Evening Star Newspaper, March 28, 1896, Page 21

“ve i THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 28, 1896-TWENTY-FOUR, PAGES. 21 “Never!” cried Bourgueil, rising with vio- Yence and throwing his napkin on the table. “Never! Do you hear me? Never!” and the old master mason paced up and down the cozy dining room, turning on his heel furiously, like a bear in a cage; whiie poor mother Bourgueil, her tearful eyes lowered on her plate, was disconsolately nibbling almonds. For two years the same dispute had been ing up between the, old couple— Just as now at the end of their evening For it was two years since they had fallen cut with their son, Edward, who, in spite of their opposition, had married a woman picked up somewhere in the Latin quarter—just when he was about to take his degree as a lawyer, too. How they had loved him and petted him, this Edward— this long wished for child, who had come after ten long years of married life, when FRAN COIS Corre, of the Freych Academy ? are carrying a bunch of box-plant that fills the air with sweet, fresh odor. Even the old cab horses have a bit of It stuck behind their ears Bourgueil, who sat up last evening at the cafe, playing cards till midnight, wakes up very late. He is in a horrible mood; and what man would not be, I should like to know? Last night, at the usual hour, he had again to listen to his wife's absurdities. She again mentioned Edward, and tried te soften him, Bourgueil! She had made inquiries, she said, and learned*that their daughter-in-law, for she was that in spite of all his anger, was not the bad woman they had first thought. A poor girl? Yes; she had worked in a store. But what of that? What were they themselves but simple werking people, even if they had becomé well off? Could they expect their son to marry some rich marquis’ daughter? And ever since Angelind—an ugly name, but it wasn’t the girl's fault after all—ever since Angelina had been his wife, no one could breathe a word against her. She was a model little wife. “Can it be that you will they had almost given up hoping for a son.| rot have pity on thi poor children?” the The happy Bourgueil, then only a simple} old mother had asked him, tearfully. “They builder, had rubbed his hands, saying to his| are poor, very poor. What do you think wife: “You know, Clemence, that smart 3 in that insurance company fellow Haussmann is improving and chang-| where he has found a place? It breaks my ing the whole of Paris, from one end to io think of it; only 200 francs a znother. Here is a good chance for me.| month! As much as you sperd on your If things go on th fortune in twelve or fifte know one thing, the won't need to climb up into scaffoidings, like his father, nor come home every night with spots of plaster all ver his gray vest, ne. We will make gentleman of him, won't we, Clem- a rei ence All Bourgueil's ambitions had been real- ized. At college Edward was a brilliant pupil, and the old peasant who had come to Paris many years ago, carrying his shoes on his back and a Hitti ied up in a cor n of seeing his son congratulated and loaded with prizes by the minister of in- struction himself. What a future the boy had before him would pgss the most —they woul: then choose an joke for him—and areer he had a faney for. hoy a geod 25,000 franes gueil would say, cheer- her Bor ithout any trouble| Prutus have relented? Of cow’ cafe end your cigars. I don’t ask you to see them; but won't you help them, just a little? We are living in plenty, while they—” and receiving no answer from Bourgueil, who was peasively turning the glass he had just emptied between his fingers, the old woman nad risen from her seat and come up to him, putting a trembling hand on his shoulder, silently pleading. Vain effort! Bourgueil, suddenly remembering that he was a Roman, had again poured forth maledictions and his formidable “never.” And on this lovely Easter morning he is than usually sad and ill-tempered— nded old mason. He feels he has cut his chin tw Oh, no; he will not be w n income to his unduitful I tell you. Would old se not. And last night he was on the point of yielding! ‘That is what comes of listening to women. They haven't energy for two sous, the wo- ren haven't. Bourgueil is firmer than ever erough to pay son. A Roman, fully, slapping i shoulder with his| in his resolutions as he puts on a white strong, broad hand. “And, saperlotte! we shirt and his gray holiday suit. He goes “YOU NEED NOT EXPECT A SOU FROM EITHER OF Us.” will make him marry right soon. It will be easy to find some pretty girl, with a good education like his, who will make him happy, and of whom we can feel proud! Ah, those lovely gone? The kind isi enough to furr their boy, that plans! where had they 1 parents had been fool- a room in town for ent. Then he met that woman, and imme- diately his studies were dropped. At twen- ty-five he had not even taken his licen- tiate” They were dreadful appointed, after having built such fine c: tles; still they cid not give up all hop: They censoled themselves saying: “He 1s so yourg! It will pass. Let him alone awhile. But cne day the imbecile had the audac- ity to inform them that he had adored stermined to make her If Bourgueil it this girl, and was G his wife. This was too much. did not fall with a stroke of apoplexy was a miracle indeed; the veins in_ hi neck were swollen like cords. He ordered his son out of the house and off his in- com: uu dare to give your name to that the old man roared, crimson with wrath, act a either of us as long as we live. But the stubborn, ungrateful bi had them to the end, and now he was to this dell of his, and living on hed clerk's y—like some ary, in a suburb of agabond! Poor old couple! How their son's conduct had made them suffer for these two horrible year: Life was a pleasure no longer, and lately the the situation was getting worse every day. It s the mother’s fault—she was too hed and she had relented at last. Her sorrow had got the better of her re- sentment, and now she was actually in- clined to forgive. One day she mustered up sufficient courage to mention the sub- ject to her husband. But he fell into a frenzy of passion. crying “Never!” with a force that shook the doors and window! out it. She had not the heart to him, and plea obey suilty son again new made a terrible scene. Their home became led the cause of the nd again. And at every attempt Bourgueil was furious and @ pur: atory. These two old people, who had notking to reproach themselves with, thirty years, became almost hostile. night at the dinner table the quar- ‘oke out anew, and it always ended with seme of those stinging thrusts that wound the heart. “Do you want e to tell you what I think, Bourgue the old woman would s You are without pit: nd you are a coward to want to give in,” the mason replied, leaving the room with a stamp of his heavy foot. Left alone in the soft light of the lamp in the comfortable parlor, the poor mother, who was still true to her peasant customs and retained her white linen caps, would quietly drop burning tears on her knitting and pray for ker boy. Bourgueil had lost all love for his home, now that he had continually a sad face to look upon. He had got into the habit of joining some friends in a cafe close by where they waited for nim for a game of manilla. In dealing out the cards the irritated mason made long and violent speeches against the pres- ent state of morals, where paternal author- ity was concerned by children. But he swcre that he, at least, would set a good example; he would be stern to the end. He could speak of nothing else, and his part- ners proclaimed him “a tiresome old fel- low,” as soon as his back was turned. In his’ presence, however, they deplored his sU-Ivck in having such a scamp of a son, and highly praised his firmness. One man in, the grovp, especially, invariably hailed the mason’s imprecations with an approv- ing word or two: “Bravo! Father Bour- guel, you are a Roman: Bourgueil_ wes from the province of Marche, and pcssessed very indistinct no- tions on antiquity. Still, he had some ink- ling of tke story of old Brutus, and felt highly flattered to be compared ‘to such a personage. Yet when he left the cafe and found himself in the cold dark night, he would say to himself—oh! very softly—that Brutus must have had a cruel, hard heart, and that it was a horribie thing to con- demn a son to death. Easter Sunday has come—a joyous, bright, happy day, merry with the chimes of bells and the promi:e of warm spring days. The city itself looks gay and coquettish. Wo- gen are coming home from church, and all ht be more independ- | “you need not expect a sou from | the pocr woman to say another | into the parlor, that cozy, pretty parlor he Was so proud of when things had still some interest for him, and looks at the clock. It is only 11 o'clock, and Boyrgueil, who has a fine appetite this morning, feels cross at the thought of eating only at 12. oon Mother Bourgueil returns from church with a large bunch of box plant. She places it | on a little side table, and suddenly the whole room is filled with jhe strong, fresh odor. Bourgucil is no poet; he has not a very re- fined nature. Yet he is impressionable for all that—like you or me—and the sight of the green branches recalls far-off memories. While the old woman is busy taking apart the twigs to decorate the rooms with them, the penetrating perfume affects his old heart. He remcmbers a certain Easter morning—ah, so long, long ago—when he was siill a workman, and his young wife a dressmaker’s apprentice. It was their hon- eymoon, for they had married a few days before Lent. Then, too, she had returned from church with a fragrant burden and | made their only room bright and festive. How pretty she looked, and how he loved her! And by a rapid effort of imagination he recalls in an instant their long years of married life; she has ever been so indus- trious, so thrifty, so devoted. And now he tortures her—this good, brave woman—he makes her suffer on account of his wicked son. But is Edward really so wicked as all that? Of course a fellow ought to honor his father and mother, and obey them;. but then, are not youth and love sufficient ex- cuses for many a fault? He watches Mother Bourgueil with moist eyes, as she gces to place a spray of box above Edward's picture on the wall—a picture of their boy in his college suit, when they felt so proud of him and of his studies. What is the matter? The old mason hard- ly knows what he is about. His head swims; it is that strong odor of the plant, doubtless. But his heart fills with some- thing tha: seems very much like mercy and pardon. He goes up to his wife, takes her hends, and, looking at the picture, mut- ters, his rough voice grown strangely soft: “Say, Clemence, shall we—forgive him?” Ah; the ery of joy that bursts from the mother's lips! And he has called her “‘Clem- ence,” just as In ‘their young days. He has rot given her that name for more than fif- teen years. And she understands that he loves her still—her husband, her old com- panion. She throws herself in his arms and kisses him frantically, all over his face, takes his head in both her hands, and whispers in his ear. The other day—she couldn't help it, really—she went to see their boy. He is so unhappy to have offended them. And if he has not come a hundred times to bez their forgiveness, it is simply because he did not dare. “You know,” she adds—and her voice becomes soft and caressing—“you know I have seen his wife, and you really cannot blame him for loving her, she is so sweet, and as fresh as a rose. She just worships our Edward—one can see that at orce; and she keeps their little home in such apple-pie order. Yes, yes, I know; her past. But if Edward loves her as she is?—And after all, we are not of the fashionable world, and in our class one is not so par- ticular.” Bourgueil feels oppressed—he {s choking. Putting a trembling finger on his wife's lips: *That will do!” he says. “Send for a_cab. Let us take some of these sprays to them in sign of peace, and bring them home with us!” . And while the old mother, stunned with joy, falls sobbing on her husband’s shoul- der, Bourgueil=the Roman, the old Brutus— begins to cry softly, like a child. ———_—_ How the Baby Looked. From Harlem Life. Young Mother (displaying the baby)—“Do you think he looks like his father, Mr. Old- boy?” “Well, yes; there is a family but it isn’t striking enough to worry about.’* ee The Reason. From the Boston Transcript. Fogg says that sometimes he is led to be- Neve that there are people in the world who are religious not because it does them any good, but because it puts them in a way to make a great many other persons uncomfortable. Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup leads all others, THE BLOCK SYSTEM a Importance of This Feature in Mod- ern Railroad Equipment. ‘PROPOSED LEGISLATION ON THE SUBJECT In Favor of the Plan of Abolish- ing Grade Crossings. PUBLIO SAFEGUARDS HE MOST EFFECT- ive railroad legisla- tion in recent years was the passage of the law requiring all railroads to equip their cars with patent couplers and side- bars. Through this law the lives of thous- ands of employes have been saved. One of the keenest members of the Penn- sylvania delegation in the lower house, while discussing railroad matters with a Star reporter, sald: “I have always been an advocate of legis- lation looking to the protection of the lives of workingmen, and will always continue on that line; but I am drawing up a bill, which I want to introduce before Congress ad- journs, that will throw safeguards around the traveling public. In the rough, Its chief features will be the compulsory establish- tent of the block signal system on all-rail- roads over a certain tonnage and the aboll- tion of grade crossings, not only in the cities, but all along the lines. “Of course, a majority of the big roads already have the block signal system in operation, but I know of several corpora- tions that can almost be classed among the first in the country that use the system only in the cities, or for a few miles out. With- out investigation, it would appear as if the entire road was being run-under this sys- tem, but when a disastrous wreck occurs then the public learns for the first time that old-fashioned methods are still in use. “State legislation won't do. The lobby employed by the railroads can do almost anything with a state representative, but here in Congress it is quite different. “The legislator that wll introduce a Dill that will wipe out grade crossings all over the country will, in time, be looked upon as one of the greatest benefactors of his race the century has brought out. No one knows better than I ao the opposition that will be developed to this measure and to the block system. As a Preventive of Accidents. “I have been watching the railroads for the past fifteen years, and noting every phase of an accident. A large percentage of the wrecks in the east occurring on railroads that have adopied the block signal system throughout their systems have been caused by carelessness,on the part of employes or the breaking down of the car equipment or the defects in roadbed. Out in the west- ern country the block signal system, if generally adopted, can_ prevent seven- eighths of the accidents. Railroads of small tonnage throughout the country are, as a rule, under tne management of a parent company that can stand the expense of the introduction of the system, and only want vigorous pushing to place the safeguards in use throughout their lines. “As to what particular system of block signaling shall be adopted, that question will be left to the common sense of each corporation. There are at present several systems in use that do the most effective work. One of the roads up in our country: has been equipping its road with the au- tomatic electric-pneumatic signal system, which may or may not be the system of the future. It is worked by the passing of a train over a certain portion of the tracks. This portion is connected with the signals by electricity, and as the locomotive passes over it a current Is made and the signal arms go up and remain up in that position until the trains have passed out of the block. “This system, so a prominent railroad manager writes me, ngj only covers one block, but the signais tell whether a train is in the adjoining block or the next one. If both signals are open then two blocks are clear. This alone gives notice to the engineer of how the tracks are for two blocks ahead. “As the only expense attached to this system is the furnishing of electricity and the cost of the apparatus for signaling, the blocks can be made considerably shorter and signals placed at more frequent inter- vals. Should this system prove to be a suc- cess a majority of the big roads of the country will adopt it, but what I want Is all the roads to be equipped in like manner. Rather Crude Then. “The more I study over railroad methods the more positive I become that the sys- tem of running will soon be almost perfect. The day was when engineers drove their great machines through the night without the glimmer of a signal light at a switch or station. It takes a man of iron nerve to be a competent engineer, but in tne old days his daring knew no limit. His ma- chine was then crude in mechanism, the roadbed was usually wretched, and precau- tions against the loss of life were so un- certain as to be of little use. The mis- placed switch was usually found at night cnly when the forward trucks of the engine left the rails. There was a wildcat system of moving trains on many of the roads, and the only warning the public had at crossings in town and country was found in a ghastly looking cross-shaped board. . “All the earlier automatic systems’ de- pended for communication between the block stations upon a wire strung upon poles, and as a train might break apart and ieave a portion of the cars obstructing the track when it had apparently cleared the block, and as by a violation of the rules the engineer of the second train might enter a section before the first train had cleared it, the track circuit was pro- posed, and proved to be highly practical. ‘By Electric Signals. “Now, in the new system, the electric current is conducted by the rails of the track and any metallic connection between the right-hand and the left-hand rails may be made to so alter the strength of an electro-magnet as to change a signal from safety to danger. The signal stands at safety so long as the current is uninter- rupted, but when a pair of wheels enters the section and affords the requisite metal- lic connection, the greater part of the cur- rent is withdrawn from the electro-magnet holding the signal in the safety position,” and it moves by the power of clockwork or ccmpressed air to the danger position. “Another system that is spoken very highly of on account of its cheapness and accuracy is one that is wholly worked by electricity. The principle on which this signal is constructed and operated is that the first wheel entering the block sets the signal at danger, and at the same time breaks an electric current in such a way that under no possible contingency can the signal again show safety until the train passes out of the block and operates the track instrument which restores the cir- cuit. The disk assumes the danger position by gravity whonever the power exerted by the electric current is withdrawn. In other words, the safety position of the signal is dependent upon an uninterrupted circuit through: the magnet of the signal irstru- ment. Jt is simply and only the attractive power of -electro-magnetism which holds the signal at safety. “An engineer wholly color blind can make no mistake in reading the signal, even if the engin is plunging through darkness at furious speed. When the signal stands at danger the center is red and the surround- ‘ing surface dark; but a color-blind person even then, it is claimed, would experience no difficulty in correctly reading the indica- tion, as he would be compelled to note the absence of white in‘the center, and only after clearly seeing white would he have a right to procied. Day and Night Systems. “I consider the arrangement for day and right signaling as being almost perfect. For the day signal reliance Is placed on the aperture and disk. Night signaling ts ac- complished by ae subsidiary aperture just above that used during the day. Behind it is placed an ordinary signal lantern, and a red glass disk raed by an extension of the same arm that supports the danger sig- nal by day providgs the means for showing the danger signal at night. “Where it is fopnd that a road has not enough tonhag2 tq warrant the adoption of the block system Jn its entirety, these elec- tric block signals might be substituted, as they do away with the cost of employing people to work them, the usual every-day track walker keeping the signals in order as he goes over the road inspecting the track. 7 “As to the aoihy, away with the grade crossing, I am satisfied seven-eighths of the people are with me. Here and there a state has adopted the necessary legislation to wipe out this bai evil, but national. leg- islation is neces: ° FOUND THE WHISKY. a The Somewhat Unusual Experience of a Revenue Officer in North Carolina. Spikeville, N. C., Corres. Phila. Times. A remarkable story has just come to light, in which ligure moonshiners, a reve- nue officer,*a beautiful mountain maid, cupid and bicycles. In the summer a suspicion which the rev- enue department had long entertained ripened into certainty that there was an illicit still somewhere in this vicinity which was producing large quantities of ‘‘Moun- tain Dew.” The local officials being well known to the inhabitants, the department sent here a young man from New York, one Zack Dickson by name, whose instructions were to ferret out such information as he could get, while apparently occupied solely in fishing, hunting and otherwise passing a month's vacation. ‘The program was duly carried out. Dick- son hunted and fished and kept his eyes open, but not even a whiff could he get of the forbidden liquor. : Naturally he had to seek his information with the utmost care, and fearful of arous- ing suspicion by direct inquiry, he confined his efforts principally to keeping his eyes open and his mouth shut. On day, nearly two weeks after his ar- rival, he took his fishing rod and journeyed in a direction not hitherto take! ‘ying many mountain streams, he caught a few fish, but his spying efforts were as vain as heretofore. Evening came on, and not knowing his whereabouts, he was delighted to succeed in getting out of the underbrush onto a wagon road. Undecided which direction to take, he paused by the roadside a moment, when an apparition darted around the bend of the road which fairly took away his breath. A bicycle in this wilderness, and, what is more, ridden by a most attractive girl! She saw him, of course, and as he admitied himself to be lost, she directed him how to reach her father’s farmhouse, extending a cordial invitation to stop, with all the free good-fellowship for which our girls hereabouts are noted. Then mounting her wheel, she sped away, while Dickson hurried behind. ‘The farmer insisted upon his staying all night, and he did so. It was a-case of love at first sight. Dickson being an expert wheelman himself, was captivated by the beautiful mountain rider, Moonshiners were forgotter: in the next few days. With- in a week he had his own wheel sent hither by express, and was more than pleased to comply with Sallie Newman's laughing or- ders that it must be kept at the farm. Every day they went out together, starting from the farm in the afternoon and riding through the leafy byways, frequently stop- ping at the residence of Sallie’s aunt in the village for supper, and then going home in the moonlight. Weeks sped away, until one day Dickson was rudely awakened from his dream of bliss by a peremptory order from Washing- ton to return home, his mission having proven fruitless. Sadly he started out with Sallie for a final ride. All unconscious of his woes, Sallie, twitted him upon his strange silence, and then challenged him to a race. Away she sped, and he was sorely tried to keep at her side. Neither noticed the fragments of a pane of window gla dropped on the read by some unlucky farm er, until too late. “Hold on,our tire ed Dickson, jumping from the great ‘horn acded, gazing wheel; spoon, what’s that, ith - he amazement at a tiny stream of liquor spurting from both front and rear tires A moment later the whole situation fell upon him. “Oh, you little moonshiner,” he murmured, and then he let his wheel fall, and sprang to catch Sal- lie, who had swooned. For six weeks the valiant Dickson had been a: ing. unawares the moonshiners by carrying whisky in his pneumatic tires, inserted at the farmhouse and deftly re- mcved by Aunt Jane in the village. Did he arrest the guilty maid? Not much. He resigned his position and married her, and the happy pair now live in Philadel: phia, where they are often seen on a tan- dem in the park. It is scarcely necessary to add the tires are now inflated solely with air. os A PARSON AND A PIG. What Was Effective in One Case Was ‘Tried in the Other. From the Sunday Magazine. A poor woman came to the parson of the parish with the request: “Please, pass'n! my ou'd sow be took cruel bad. I wish, now, you'd be so good as to come and say @ prayer over her.” “A prayer! Goodness preserve us! I can- not come and pray over a pig—a pig, my dear Sally—that is not possible.” “Her be cruel bad, groaning, and won't eat her meat. if her dies, pass'n—whativer shall _we do i’ the winter wi’out bacon sides and ham? Qh, dear! Do'y, now, pa: come and say a prayer over my old sow “I really, really must not degrade my sacred office. Sally! indeed, I must not!” “Oh, pass’n! do'y, now!” and the good creature began to sob. The parson was a tender-hearted man, and tears were too much. He agreed to go to the cottage, sce the pig, and do what he could. Accordingly, Le visited the patient, which lay groaning in the stye. The woman gazed wistfully at the pastor, and waited for the pra: ‘Then the clergy: man raised his right hand, pointed with one finger at the sow and said solemnly: “If thou livest, O pig! then thou livest. If thou diest, O pig! then thou diest.”” Singularly enough, the sow was better that same evening, and ate a little wash. She was well, and had recovered her ap- petite wholly ‘next day. Now, it happened, some months after this, that the rector fell very ill, with a quinsy that nearly choked him. He could not swal- low, he could hardly breathe. His life was in imminent danger. Sally was a visitor every day at the rec- tory, and was urgent to see the sick man. She ‘was refused admission, but pressed so vehemently that finalty she was suffered— just to see him, but she was warned not to speak to him or expect him to speak, as he was unable to utter a word. She was conducted to the sick room, and the door thrown open. ‘There she beheld the pastor lying in bed, groaning, almost in extremities. Raising her hand, she pointed at him with cne finger and “If thou livest, O pass’n! then thou livest! If thou diest, O ‘passn’t! then thou diest.” ‘The effect on ‘the sick man was—an ex- plosion of laughter that burst the quinsy, and his recovery. Se A Definition. From the Chicago Record. “What is a critic?” “He is a man wno rips things to pieces without knowing how to put them together again.” E The Light Side of Nature. From the Sketch. My new model. HUMOR OF ARTEMUS WARD. With Reminiscences of His Earlier Life in Cleveland, Ohio. From the New York Sun. In November, 1857, Charles Farrar Browne, otherwise known as Artemus Ward, went from Toledo tosCleveland to become city editor of the Plain Dealer, at that time and now the leading democratic | Journal in northern Ohio, whose proprietor, Joseph W. Gray, was a passionate friend and supporter of Stephen A. Douglas. Within, a few weeks after becoming con- nected with the Plain Dealer—an after- noon paper—Browne began his career as “Artemus Ward" by the publication of a letter dated at Pittsburg, January 27, 1857, printed in the Plain Dealer on January 30, addressed to the editor and signed by that name. “I rite to no,” said Mr. Ward, “how Is the show bisnes in Cleeveland, i have a show consisting in part of a Californy Bare 2 snaiks tame foxies &c. also wax works my wax works is hard to beat all say they is lifelike and nateral curiosities among my wax works is our Saveyet, Gen tayler and Dokter Webster in the ackt of killing Dokter Parkman. now mr editor scratch off a few lines and tel me how is the show business in yure city i shal have hanbils printed at yure offis you scratch my back and ile scratch yure back also git up a grate blow in the paper about my show.” The public reception of this short letter was an unexpected surprise to Browne. It was talked about at Cleveland; it was ex- tensively printed everywhere throughout the country, and singularly tickled the popular fancy; and when Browne, ex- tremely gratified and stimulated by the re- ception of his letter from Pittsburg, printed two or three additional letters in the same vein, equally droll and characteristic, a new figure had appeared in American hu- morous literature, which at once took the leading place, and whose name—so far as it is now possible to judge—is as perma- nently enduring as that of any writer of his time. Mr. Lincoln’s love of Browne's Yun was very keen; and certainly no his- torian, giving an account of that mem- orable meeting of his cabinet on September 22, 1862, at which final action was taken on the emancipation proclamation, can omit Mr. Lincoln’s ‘reading of Ward's let- ter entitled “A High-handed Outrage at Utica,” as preliminary to the discussion of that supreme act of his administration. During a considerable period of his resi- dence in Cleveland Browne occupied a room on the fourth floor of the post office building, on Water street, the windows of which looked out over Lake Erie and upon the beautiful country to the west of the Cuyahoga river; a majestic view, of which he was ‘extremely fond. He had this, room a little pine writing tabl or four chairs—one of which was a — and a venerable sofa. It was here that h did some of his best work; that work, at any cate, that earliest attracted the at- tention of the count His Sunday mornings were given up to visits from friends, among whom were George B. Lester, a brother-in-law of Sen- ator John P. J s of Nevada. aries E. Wilson, now cashier of the First National Bank of Litchfield, Conn.; Mr. J. F. Ryder, still resident at Cleveland, and two or three others. Browne was a delightful companion at ali times, but specially so on these Sunday morning occasions; full of fun, and oddities {not in the least easy to describe—one of which was that of always king of his mother as Caroline. Sometimés he would read what he had written for use in the Plain Dealer during the week, these read- ings being usuaily accompanied with run- ning comments that were in themselves as droll, or even more droll, because they were more free, than his written drolli- ness. He was good deal of an actor, withal, and made use of his iery with exceeding effect. a lecturer on nz ural philosophy, one sina: y, he was irresistibly ridiculous. “It is susceptible of absolute proof,” he sol- emnly declared, “that a ball will run down an inclined plane, and yet how few people there are who know it! An earthern how! dropped from the roof of a three-story house will, if it strike a stone pavement, be sha tered into many pieces! A bean pol mately used, 1s an instrument of good, if it be sharpened at one end and run through a man, it will cause, the most in- tense pain and perhaps produce contortions. The wick of an unlighted candle may s be manipulated, but if you light t and thrust your hand into the bi keep it there half an hour, a sensatior excessive and disagreeable warmth will be experienced. A dozen wrought iron nails may be dashed violently from the steeple of a large meeting house to a brick sidewalk and sustain no injury, but the same experi- ment with a dozen clay pipes will result dif- ferently. “The effect upon the sidewalk in either case, however, will be the same. You may lie down upon the ground and let a kitten walk over you with perfect safety, but if you put a heavy dray horse in the place of the kitten, you will immediately experience a disagreeable pressure. Hasty pudding and milk are a harmless diet if eaten moderate- ly, but if you eat it incessantly for six con- secutive weeks it will produce instant death. You gaze with indifference upon a bull when he is placidly eating grass in a pasture. but if the animal becomes infuriated and at- tempts to assist you over a rail fence with those horns, they immediately become ob- jects of a deep-seated disgust. On the same principle we can easily hold in our arms an infant, and experience delight in doing so, but it would be very difficult for us to pe form a similar experiment with a corpulent old gentleman who is in a state of uncon- cious inebriety, while the delight afforded by the performance in this instance would hardly be worth mentioning. AN these things seem wonderful at first blush, but science makes them clear as clear can be. These propositions, addressed to his visit- ors as “Mine Ancient Pistols,” were de- livered with a persistent serdous gravity that was wholly delicious. Some “Washington gc correspondent,” under date of January 30, 1859, was read on still another Sunday. “The capital just now,” said “our correspondent,” “is a scene of unprecedented gayety. The beau monde is quite recherche. Bal masques, sorrees dansanteg, etc.. are nightly occur- rences, to say nothing of the dancing par- ties, where—as the poet felicitously hath it, “Bright the lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.’ “Last night Mrs. De Snobbe, the lovely wife of the noble ambassador from the Lobos Islands, gave a grand ‘social.’ It was truly a recherche sorry dansante. Wit, sparkling repartee, and bon hominy crowned the golden hours. There was the stalwart and princely Snodgrass, with bright but- tons all over him, and there was his wife also, who, although she had but lately re- covered from a severe attack of embonpoint, looked quite ad infinitum. But n’importe. To return to the gay scene: Here comes the fascinating and truly beautiful Miss Smythe, daughter of the elder Smythe of Beanville. Her features are classic, but tinged with just enough bon hominy to make them au fait. Sho is dressed in gorgeous style. I asked her how much her things cost, but she, with beautiful naivete, told me’ that when I found out she wished I'd let her know—saying which she whirled her fan (which is dove-white silk covered all over with little silver spangles) around, with de- lightful abandon. Depend upon it, however, that Miss Smythe’s things cost a large sum of money. But old Smythe has lots of that article. He made a princely fortune pub- lishing a country newspaper before he was elected to Congress. But—soft, with state. ly tread, proud, defiant mien, et cetera, now comes Lord Boozle. Gold buttons fiash all over his gorgeously embroidered coat and snow-white silk stockings. He meets Count Alfred de Flatte. They smile, halt and ac- cost each other—in the original Greek. They then retire to the table d’hote. Other celebrities, male and female, pour in spark- ling, dazzling torrents past me, but I cannot describe them now. I’ cannot refrain from mentioning the fact, however, as an evidence of the wealth and intelli gence of the persons in attendance at this matinee, that the gold buttons on Count de Snoffers’ coat cost $273!!! “I am stopping at the Bunker House. The table d’hote abounds with the best the mar- ket affords, and Mrs. Bunker sees to it that everything is au fait and E Pluribus Unum. Mr. Bunker's gentlemanly clerks, Messrs. Nossle and Gossle, are princes of good fel- lows. Gossle, en passant, Is a great deal of a wag. More anon. Au reservoir. J. A.” eae FORTE About Letters, From the Yonkers Statesman. Mr. Crimsonbeak—“‘The time for a per- son to learn 1s when he is young. As a proof of this, remember that a man never forgets his letters.” Mrs. Crimsonbeak—‘He may not forget his own, but I take notice he often forgets those of his wife.” ip, from our own zai oo-__ Badinage in the Barracks. From Vanity. s First Officer—“Say, captain, what does the air do after a shot leaves a cannon?” Second Officer—‘‘Give it up.” First Officer—“Whistles ‘After the Ball.’” BANK PRESIDENT BEALS. The Great Financier Found Health in Paine’s Celery Compound, Prominent among the New Engl breins and energy have helped to make the ch and powerfal s General David T. 1 president of the U1 Bank of Kansas Successful in his max s, he lives today in a fine riansion at the corner of Inde- pendence ard V ork and of 5 ion Natiot his tired nervous system by the use celay compound. Its Invi healeh: cls justified his expectations, and showed in his own case the power of this much- discussed thoroaghly restoring strengthi “I found P: tonic znd soothing Be These are the conc istic of the for to the ne and the stagnant, the winter redu DEATH ON THE CROSS. How It Was Inflicted in the Time of the Romans, Frem the New York Herald. It was on natural that the early mediaeval Gfristians, finding the cross a ymbol of life among nations of an- tiquity, should look curiously into the Old Testament to see whetLer there were not foreshadowings in it of “the wood where- hy righteousness cometh. or was their In the %0od of the secrifice they saw pretigured beth Christ and the crcss. They saw the in Moses with arms expanded on the Mount, in the pole, with transverse bars, upon which was wreathed the brazen ser pent, in the two sticks gathered by the widow of Sarpeta. But plainest of all they read it in Ezekiel, ix, 4, 6, “Go through the midst of the city, through the midst of Je- rusalem, and set a mark upon the fo} heads of the men” that are to be sav from destruction by the sword. The wor, here rendered “mark” is in the Vulgat “signa thau.” The Thau was the old He- -rew character, shaped like a cr phic vas regarded as the sign of life, felicity ard ‘safety. Yet the cross was not always a sy of honor. Among the Phoenicians Syrians, and later among the Romans, it Jag punishment inflicted on slaves, roby bers, assassins and rebels—among which last Jesus was reckened, on accovnt of His proclaiming Himself x, or Messiah. The person sentenced to this punishm: was stripped of his clothes, except a cover ing around the loins, In a state of nudit he was beaten with whips. Such was the severity of this flegcllation that numbers died 0} was crowned with thorn: and e iz sults of this kind were not common. this iastance they were owing to the petu- lance of the Roman soldiers. The criminal, having been beaten, was ccndemned to the further suffering of c: rying the cross to the place of punishment, which was commonly a hill near the publi highway, and out of the city. The place of crucifixion at Jerusalem was a hill to the northwest of the city. The cross, sther- wise called the “post”—the unpropitious or ominous tree—consisted of a piece of wood erecte] perpendicularly, and intersected by another one at right angles, near the top. The crime fer which the culprit was inscribed on the transverse pi the top of the perpendicular one. ne mention made by the ancient writers of anything on which the feet of the crucified person rested. It is known, however, that near the base of the perpendicular beam here projected a picte of wood, on which he sat, and which answered as a support te the body—since the weight of the latter might have otherwise torn the hands by the nails driven through them. ‘The cross, when driven firmly in ground, rarely exceeded ten feet in hei The victim was elevated, and his h were bound by a rope around the tr verse beam end nailed through the palm. His fect were also nailed. He th mained fastencd until death ended his suf- ferings. While he exhibited any signs cf life he was watched by guards; but the left him when it appeared that he was dead. If there was no prospect that the victim wouid die on tne day of execution, the executioners hastened the end by kin- dling a fire at the foot of the cross, so as to suffocate him with smoke; or by letting lecse upon him wild bea or occasional- ly, when in particular haste, by breaking ary to offer the criminal, before the com- mencement of his sufferings, a medicated drink, compounded of wine and myrrh. The object of this was to produce intoxica- . and thereby to lessen the sufferi! Crucifixion was not only the most ign minious, but by far the most cruel, mode of punishment. The victim sometimes lived until the seventh day. The thieves who were executed at the same time with our Savior were broken with malicts on the same day; and in order to ascertain the condition of Jesus a lance was thrust in His side, but no signs of life appeared. Cicero says the very name of the cross should be removed afar, “not only from the body, but from the thoughts, the eyes, the ears of Roman citizens, for of all these things, not only the actual occurrence and endurance, but the very contingency and expectation, nay, the mention itself, are unworthy of a Roman citizen and a free man.” Hence the force of St. Paal’s fre- quent allusions to the humiliation which Christ endured when He suffered death upon the cross. It was precisely this Idea which made the early Christians seize upon the cross as the emblem of their faith. That which had been the symbol of shame now became their glory. The instrument of Christ’s passion, by His death upon it, became hal- lowed for all time. ——-—00e A General Experience. From Tid Bits. Lady Customer (in china shop break these sets?” Dealer—“No, madam; the purchasers’ servants usually attend to that.” “Do you and | andj antine sed itself on t weve ree that entreal, TE to Au hers W covers fron ness, debility, permanently ¢ ood again rich md build up the nervous sys and deranged. bring bavk pager. as he stopped for a minut with the man in the shabby dr a the man in the shabby dyess suit. “Now you speak of it,” said the manager, “I am reminded of the fact I never did s her at one of our danc “Qvite rm replied the man in shabby dr it with evident relief. neve attend mn.” Sui on th er hand,” continued tha floor manager, “she always attends the in- formal ente while I don’t reeail that T « y tone of them.” hat's right, too,” admit the “She | Were lacking has been rathe: We expect to apr The floor mana; man in the shal at ease, “I don't } fo: awkward, ar together agi er looked puzzled bhy dress suit eve I quite under said the floor manager at iast. “No? 0. The man in the shal) | the floor mang they couldn't “My wife | sented i jan el | one suit oh of u for afternoon teas to be repre- . “but we made Ve could only afford and she got a gown nd su w suit, and T y suit whe gown is the We must make the best of it ext Year wi me class.”” eo. j Written for The Evening Star. Cuba. Mird of Spain? amid thy flating intend to try Soon silenced by tumultuons rear, And steel that reddened at t Tleard thy faint plaint no mor But now from cut thy tropie throat, Because thou pantest to be fre ped threne ‘ond the pillared And to the Paget Sou One Tong and ps The ot TH symp: om the Louisville (Ky.) Post. A well-known Lou ile girl, whose ins have won for her the reputation of being one of the mcst brilliant women in the city, recently held a book party at her house, and the names she gave scme of her acquaintances were so ex celient that I feel it is my duty to give the public the benefit of them. | M sideration for the people named will not allow me to give their right name you can draw your own conclusions, and I dare say that the right people will ba spotted in more than one instance. “Great Expectations” is the pseudonym which h been given to a young lady who believes that she will eventually win the heart and hand of a man of birth and fortune. Unfortunat she has not yet met this. man. The “Sign of the Lyre” is the name that has been given to a well-knowm matron, for what reason I can only guess. Several well-known spinsters have bee dubbed “Plain Tales From the These ladies—or girls, as they prefer ta be called—are just chock full of storica which have become threadbare from cond stant telling. ) oo Expert Op! Fron the Boston Gazette. Gizball—“Guzler, what's your opinion of the gold cure?” Guzler—“It's simply great. I tried it 4 less than five times, and I was cured eve time.”