Evening Star Newspaper, December 12, 1896, Page 17

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1896—24 PAGES. (Copyright, for The Evening Star. (Continued from Last Saturday.) Chapter VIII. Braunt and Marsten pas: from the dimness of Rose Garden court into the bri ney of Light street, which on certain nights in the week was like one prolonged ch side d heaped-up fair, ¢ being lined w costers’ barrows, radiant with flaring gaso- Incense was being burned—evil-smell- incense—io the God of Cheapness. jes of w n, down at the heel, were bargaining with equally impecunious ven- ders—meeting and chaffering on the com- of poverty. Turning into a side street and then into a@ narrower lane, the two -nen came to a huge building where the Salvation Army held its services—a building let temporarily to the employes of Monkton & Hope for the discussion of their grievances. The place was crowded to the doors, and the latest comers had some diificulty in mak- ing their way along one side of the walls, Bearer the front platform, where they at last found room half way between the doors and the speakers. Scimmins was in the chair, looking very uneasy and out of place, not knowing ex- actly what was expected of him, smiling @ wan deprecatory smile occasionally as some of his pals in the crowd made audi- ble remarks about his elevatfa, and the mon level native dignity he brought to bear on his office. One gave it as his opinion (“if you awsked him") that Scimmins would bave looked more natural with a pint pot in his right hand instead of the maliet with which he was supposed to keep order. On a row of chairs at the back of the platform sat the members of the commit- tee, looking, most of them, quite as un- comfortable as the chairman. Several re- porters were writing at a table provided for them. Sometimes one whisp2red a question to the chairman or a member of committee, and _rec d the almost ariable answer, “lest if I know; arsk MONOWON TTS CLEGG OU THE MUTABLE MANY, BY ROBERT BARR. 1896, by Robert Barr.) WOW OWOWON, WONG We SNOW " ' y VV se) es ¢ & nae like a dog. Let's have a look at There was wild cheering at this. The fight was on, and the crowd was jubilant. | This was the kind of talk they liked to hear. Braunt smote young Marsten on the back and pushed him forward. “Take oop the challenge, lad.” he cried. “Oop wi’ ye. I'll follow ye, and give them some facts about the unemployed. We've | Sot this meeting if we work it right. Oop | wi’ ye, mate.”* Marsten went toward the platform, the | crowd making way for him. Gibbons stood for a moment apparently surprised at this ut expected opposition, then walked back to his chair at the head of the com- mittee. The good-natured gathering cheer- ed when they saw the young man standing before them. “Fellow workingmen,” he began. “Address the chair,” admonished some one in the middle of the hall, whereat there was a laugh. Scimmins himself indulged in a sickly smile. The speaker reddened slightly, and in confused haste said: “Mr. Chairman and fellow workers—” The crowd cheered lustily, and it was some moments before Marsten could again get a hearing. A fecling of despair came over him as he stood before them. It was only too evident that they all looked upon the whole proceeding as a great lark, something in the way of a music hall en- tertainment without the beer—which was a drawback, of course, but also without any charge for admission—which was an advantage, for it left so much more cash to expend in stimulants after the fun was over. He wondered, as he looked at the chaffing, jocular assemblage, whether he was taking too serious a view of the sit- uation. There flashed across his mind. a sentence he had heard in a lecture on socialism. “It 1s not the capitalist nor the government you have to conquer,” the lecturer had said, “but the workmen them- selves.” When the disorder had subsided so that his voice could be heard, Marsten went on: “Mr. Gibbons asserted that the manager had refused to consult with his employes, and I claimed that such a statement was not true. Mr. Sartwell told me himself that he was willing to receive a deputation from the men of the works. He said—” “What's that?” cried Gibbons, springing to his feet and taking a step forward Gorse) 2320) 4r™M A WORKER AND ALL I WANT IS A CHANCE TO EARN MY BREAD. Gibbons was quite palpably the man of the hour. He was or his fect by virtue of Fis position chairman of the committee and secri to the union, and was just finishing % of the committee's report as Braunt and Marsten found stand- Ing room at the side of the hall. “And finally your committee begs leave to report that Mr. Sartwell, having re- jected all overtures from your committee, refusing to confer with it either through its chairman or as a body, it was resolved that this report be drawn up and pre- d to you tn order that definite action y be taken upon it.” bons, when he had finished reading the document, placed it upon the reporters’ table for their closer inspection. He had drawn up the report himself and was natur- ally rather proud of the wording, ard he hoped to see it printed in the newspapers. He turned to his audience, after saiuting the chairman. “Now, gentlemen, you have heard the re- pert. The committee appointed by you, empowered by you, acting for you, vested ip your a-thority, has done all in its power to bring this matter to an amicable con- clvsion. It has left no stone unturned, shrunk from no honorable means, spared no trouble, to bring about an understanding fair alike to employer and employe. But, gentlemen, your committee has been met at the very threshold with a difficuliy which it could not surmount; a difficulty that has rendered ail its efforts abortive. The firm cf Monkton & Hope refers the committee to Mr. Sartwell, the manager, and Mr. Sartwell absolutely refuses to see the committee and discuss anything with it. This man, who was once a workman himself, now ‘arrogates— Here one of the reporters pulled Gibbons’ coat tail, and a whi red colloquy took pla When it was over, Gibbons contin- ued: “A gentleman of the press has asked me a question—and a very proper question it is. He asks if we threatened Mr. Sart- any way with a strike, as has been red. ntlemen, no t of any whatever have heen used.” (Cheers.) “We have appreached Mr. Sartwell with the same deference that we would have ap- ed a member of her majesty’s gov- if we had a petition to present. and sub: of the whole busi- twell absolutely refuses own men when they sum said a voice from the i their heads toward the leeful at the interrup- fveliness ahead. There fb anticipation. sharply toward e voice came. is not true?” he demanded. true that Mr. Sartwell refuses his own men.” you one of them?” Are you?” was a rustle of intense enjoyment palpable hit at Gibbon The glib speaker himself was taken aback by the t, but only for a moment. thought,” centinued the secretary, at it might have been some one sent here nterrupt this meeting. This may si!!! be the case, but we -will waive that point. We will not follow Mr. Sartwell’s exa . and if there is any friend of his t we shell be pleased to hear from R at the proper time. As I was about to say when I was int—" “I answered your cried the voice Gibbons glarced appealingly at the chair for protection, and Sctmmins rapped feebly wit the point question; answer his gavel on the table in front of him, saying, “Order, erder,” but in a tone that he apparently hoped nobody would ear. “What is your question?” asked Gibbons, with an angry ring in his voice. ou an employe of Monkton & “I am secretary of the union of which that firm's men are a part, and, I may the strongest ynion in London. I am irman of this committee, composed of hat firm's men. I did not seek the posi- tion, but was unanimously elected to it. Therefore, I claim that practically 1 am &n employe of Monkton & Hope, and that no man here has a better right to speak for those employes—aye, or to stand up for “Don’t interrupt the speaker,” shouted Braunt from the body of the hall. “He interrupted me,” roared Gibbons, now thoroughly angry. Turning to the young man, who stood there silently, wait- ing for statement and retort to cease, the secretary demanded: “When did Sartwell tell you that?” ‘On ‘Tuesday nigh “On Tuesday night!” repeated Gibbons, coming to the front of the platform. “On Tuesday night! and you have the brazen cheek to stand here and admit it.” “Why shouldn't I?” asked Marsten, with perceptible self-control, but whitening around his tightening lips. “Why shouldn't you? I'll tell you why. Because you sneaked in behind the backs of the committee you had helped to ap- point. That's why eS had no hand in appointing the com- mittee.” “Every man in the works had a hand in appointing the committee. If you didn’t vote, then you neglected your duty. If you voted against the committee you were bound by the result, just as the committee would have been bound if they had been defeated. That's trade unionism—stand to- gether or fall together. You, knowing a committee had been appointed to“deal with this very business, must go crawling to Sartwell and undermine the work of your fellow unionists.” “That's a lie,” hissed Marsten through his set teeth, in a low but intense tone of voice which was heard to the further end of the hall. The young man strode toward his antagonisi, his right hand nervously clinch- ing and unclinching. It was an electric moment—the crowd held its breath. They expected the next move would be a blow. Gibbons stoud his ground without flinch- ing. Not a muscle of his face moved ex- cept his eyellds, which partially closed over his eyes, leaving a slit through which a steely glance shot at Marsten, but his an- swer was rot so truculent as his look. “If it'e a Me,” he said, calmly, to the evi- dent disappointment of his hearers, ‘“‘then the lie is not mine. I was merely putting your own statements in a little terser lan- guage, that’s all. Braunt, who had with difficulty kept his hot temper in hand during the colloquy on the stage, now roared ut the top of his voice: “Give t' lad a chance to speak and shut your silly mouth! He’s called you a Mar like a man, and you daren’t take him oop like a man. Sit down, you fool!’ “I must reaily ask the protection of the chair,” protested the secretary, turning to Scrimmins. The latter, feeling that something was expected ‘of him, rose rather uncertainly to his feet and struck the table three or four times with his ma!- let. “Order, order!” he cried. “If there is any more disturbance down there, the man will be put out of the meeting.” “What!” shouted Braunt. “Put me out! Ezod! I'll give ‘ee th’ chance.” The big man made his way toward the platform, brushing aside from his path a few who, in the interests of law and order, endeavored to oppose him. The majority of those present, however, were manifestly of the opinion that the progress of the angry man should not be barred, so they cheered his intervention and made encour- aging remarks. , Braunt sprang upon the platform, ad- vanced to the chai, smote his clenched fist on the table, and cried: “Here I am, Scrimmins. cut! D'ye hear?” He paused for a reply, but there was rone. Scrimmins, shrinking from him, ob- viously prepared for flight if Braunt at- tempted to storm the position. The York- shireman glared about him, but those on the platform appeared to think that the time for protest had not yet arrived. Mean- while the audience was calling loudly for a speech. é “I haven't much to say, mates,” began Braunt, calming down through lack of op- position, “and I’m no man at the gab. I'm a@ worker, and all I nt is a chance to earn my bread. But I'll say this: I saw in t’ papers not so long ago that there’s 27,000 men of our trade out of. work in England today. Twenty-seven thousand men anxious for a job. “Now, what is this man Gibbons asking you to do? He’s asking you to chook up Now put me them against oppression—than I have. And I will tell the man who interrupts me—I'll teli him to his face—that I am not to be browbeaten from the path of duty by him, or by Mr. Sartwell, either, as long as I retain the confidence of the men whe put me here. I acknowledge no other masters. If you want to address this meeting come up here on the platform and face it like a man, and not stand barking your jobs and have your places taken by Some of them twenty-seven thousand. Sart- well has only to put an advertisement in the papers and he can fill the shops five times over in two days. It’s always easier to chook oop a job than to get these times. I know, because I’ve So have most of you. Take my ad go no further with this nonsense. If well, as Marsten says, is willing to Fe ii HF over grievances, then I say let us send him @ deputation of our own men, with no out- siders amo! ‘em. What's the union done for us? Taken our money every week, that’s all I can see. And now they have got so much of it they want to squander it fighting a strong man like Sartwell.” Marsten had sat down on the edge of the platform. We are always, quicker to per- ceive the mistakes of others than to recog- nize our own, and he did not like Braunt’s talk against the union. He felt that it Of All the Ornamental Appendages to This Studio, the Most Striking Was Barney's “Man.” would be unpopular; besides, he believed in the union if it were properly led. His fight was against Gibbons, not against the organization. Gibbons was in his chair, and he had rapidly taken the measure of the speaker. He saw that the address was having its effect, and that the crowd was slipping away from his control. It was a risky thing to do with such a powerful man, but he made up his mind that Braunt must be angered, when he would likely, in his vio- lence, lose all the ground he had gained. So Gibbons quietly, with his eye, gathered up his trusty henchmen, who were scattered in different parts of the hall, to give an appecrance of unanimity to the shouting when the proper time came, and these men had now gradually edged to the front dur- ing the speaking. One or two had silently ncunted the platform and held a whispered conference with the secretary, after which they and some others took their places be- hind the seated committee. When Sart- well was alluded to Gibbons arose. “Mr. Chairman,” he said, “I cannot al- low— Braunt turned on him like a raging lion. “Don't you interrupt me,” he cried, roll- ing up his sleeves, “or I'll dash you through that window.” “Order, order!” said the chairman, faintly. “Yes, an’ you atop o’ him!” shouted the infuriated man. “I've done it before.” “Respect the meeting, if you have no re- gard for the chair,” said Gibbons, calmly. “You talk to us as if we were a parcel of fcols,” cried a man in front. Braunt, like a baited bull, not knowing in which direc- tion to rush, turned his eyes, blazing with rage, upon the last speaker. He shook his clenched fist and bared arm at the audi- ence. “What else are you?” he roared, at the top of his voice. “A parcel 0’ dommed fools, all o’ ye. Led by the nose by a still bigger fool than any o' ye. Yes; a set o’ chatter- ing idiots, that's what ye are, with not enough brains among the lot o’ ye to turn a grindstone. I know ye, a beer-sodden gang, with just enough sense to see that your pint mug’s full.” By this time those in the hall were in a state of exasperation bordering on frenzy. A small door to the right of the stage, con- necting with an alley, had been opened, and a number of the more timid, seeing a storm impending, had quietly slipped out. The meeting was now a seething mob, cry- ing for the blood of the man who stood there defying them and heaping contumely upon it. Gibbons, his lips pale but firm, took a step forward. “We have had enough of this,” he said. “Get off the platform!” Braunt turned as if on a pivot and rushed at the secretary. The latter stepped nimbly back, and one of his supporters, with a running jump and hop, ola his boot squarely in Praunt’s stoma The impetus was so great and the assault so sudden and unexpected that Braunt, powefful as he was doubled up like a two-foot rule and fell backward from the platform to the floor. Instantly a dozen men pounced upon him and hustled him, in spite of his striking out right and left, through the open door into the alley. The door was closed and bolted in the twinkling of an eye—Braunt outside and his assailants within. It was all so neatly and so quickly done that the police, who had been on the alert for some time, only reached the spot when the door was bolted. The crowd, with but the vaguest general notion of what had hap- pened beyond the sudden backward col- lapse of Braunt, raised a wild cheer, for which Gibbons was thankful. He did not wish them to know that Braunt had been taken in hand by the police outside, and he had been very anxious, if an arrest were inevitable, that it should not take place in the hall, for then even Braunt’s violent tirade would not have prevented universal sympathy turning toward him. While the cheer was ringing up to the goof, Gibbons had heard a terrifie blow delivered against the door, a blow that nearly burst in the bolt and made the faces of those standing near turn pale. Another crashing hit shat- tered the panel, and gave a glimpse for one moment of bleeding knuckles. Then there was an indication of a short, sharp struggle in the alley, and all was quiet Save the reverberating”echo of the cheer. Gibbons strode to the front of the plat- form and held up his hand for silence. “I am very sorry,” he said, “that the last speaker made some remarks which ought not to have been made, but let us all re- member that hard words break no bones. However, there has been enough talk for one night, and it is time to proceed to bus- iness. Gentlemen, you have heard the re- port of the committee—what is your pleas- ure?” “I move,” said a man, rising in the mid- dle of the hall, “that we go on strike.” “I second that motion,” cried several voices. : “Put the motion,” whispered Gibbons to the bewildered chairman. Scimmins rose to his feet. “You have all heard the motio1 he said. “All in favor say aye.” A seemingly universal shout of “Aye” rose. The chairman was on the point of resuming his seat when Gibbons, in a quick aside, said: “Contrary.” ‘All to the contrar. called out the chairman, hovering between sitting and standing. Ee There was no dissent, for Marsten had left to see what had become of his friend, and the timorous men had stolen away when they detected signs of disturbance. “Motion’s carried,” said Scimmins, seat- ing himself, with every indication of relief. “Unanimously,” added Gibbons lofidiy, mete to conceal his satisfaction with the result. Chapter IX. There are streets in Chelsea practically abandoned to studios. Long, low buildings of one story, with many doors in front, and great broadsides of windows at the back, multi-paned windows, letting in from the north the light that artists love, lined these thoroughfares, which Barney in his jocular, off-hand manner called urora borealis” streets, because, as he always explained, they were*so full of “northern lights.” Such studios were all very well for the ordinary, every-day artist, who exhibited at the Royal Academy and places of that sort, but a painter with a soul, and, inci- dentally, a reliable bank account, desired something better than one of these barns; so Barney had taken a house and fitted it up to meet his requirements. Craigenput- toch House, as Barney called it, in tardy recognition of the genius of Thomas Car- lyle, was a building of three stories, stand- ing back from the street in grounds of its own. The rooms on the upper floor were allowed to remain as they were, and gave Barney bed rooms for himself and his friends, his hospitality being unique and unlimited. All the partitions on the first floor had been torn away, so that this por- tion of the house was formed into one vast apartment, with the exception of a space for a noble landing, up to which, in digni- fled manter befitting a temple of art, arose a broad flight of stone steps that replaced the ordinary wooden stairway which had contented the former occupants of the house. To afford the support necessary for the upper floor, new that the partitions, were taken away, huge beams of timber had been put fn, these gave the ceiling of the roomy studio that barn-roof appearance so necessary to the production of works of the higher art.” Barney's mother objpcied to the bare coldness of the uncoverdd stone stairs. Be- ing-inside the house, she sald, and not the steps that led to the front door, they should ave a carpet on them. Barney admitted that under ordinary “tircumstances this was so, and willingly ‘6ffered to make a certain concession should the occasion arise. If royalty visited ;him he would put down the customary red carpet which the feet of royalty were in the habit of treading. In fact, he admitted to*his mother that a roll of red ‘carpet had already been pur- chased, and was at that moment in the closet under the stair@m:to be ready at a moment's notice. But.,for everyday wear the steps should remain uncovered, be- cause the stone stairways of the Pitti Pal- ace were always bare, and as Barney in- tended ultimately to make Craigenputtoch House quite as celebrated in the world of art as the Florentine gallery, he would fol- Tow its precedent so far as stairs were con- cerned. There is nothing like beginning right. On the ground floor were dining room and kitchen; below that was a well-filled cel- lar. The hall was toned a rich Pompeiian red, and was lit by two windows of bri Mant stained glass which had been put in when the building was transformed from a residence into a studio. “Oh, yes,” Barney would say, when he was complimented on these windows, “they are all very well in their way, but not original, don’t you know; not original. No, they are simply nicely executed copies of a portion of a window in_ e Cathedral done in 1508. I placed them there temporarily, because I have been so busy that I have not had time to design anything better myself, which I shall do later on, don’t you know.” But of all the ornamental appendages to this studio, perhaps the most striking was Barney’s “man,” attired in a livery of blue, crimson and silver, which was exceedingly effective. Although Barney had not had time to de- sign a stained-glass window which would excel those of Cologne, he had been com- pelled to sketch out this livery, for it was not a thing that one could copy from abroad, and the Hope family had not been established long enough to have a recog- nized livery of its own. Nothing gives character and dignity to a place so much as a “man” sumptuously fitted out in a style that is palpably regardless of cost, and if it may be plainly seen that the “man” per- forms no needful function whatever, then is the effect heightened, for few human be- ings attain the apex of utter inutility. The great hotels of this country recognize the distinction reflected upon them by the pos- session of a creature of splendor at their doors, who grandly wafts the incoming guests with a hand wave toward the hall. But these persons of embellishment often demean themselves by opening the doors of cabs and performing other useful acts, thus detracting from their proper function, which was, Barney insisted, to content themselves with being merely beautiful. When a visitor once complained that the man at the top of the stair had refused to direct him into the studio, Barney laid his right hand in friendly brotherliness on the visitor's shoulder, and sai “He knew, dear boy, that I would dis- charge him instantly if he-so far forgot himself as to answer a question.” “Then what is he there for?’ visitor, with some indignation. see the use of him.” “Quite so, quite so,’ answered Barney, scothingly. “If you did I would have to get rid of him and engage another, and I can assure you that perfectly useless per- sons six feet two in height are not to be picked up on every street corner. No, dear boy, they are not, I "give: you my word. People are so unthinking that they will ask foolish questions. I Ytena to discourage this habit as much as possible. You want to know what he is there for? Now if I had placed a marble statue at the top of the stair you would not have been offended if it did not answer yeur query, don't you know, and you would not have asked what it was there for, don't you know. There are so many useful things in this world that something untainted with utilitarianism ought to be welcomed by every thinking man, and if this deplorably proficuoug, country is ever to be redeemed, we artists must lead the way, don't you see.” The grand individual at the head of the stair had his uses, nevertheless, for when Haldiman and another, accepting Barney's effusively cordial invitations to attend one of his “at homes,” entered the hall below and saw this magnificent »person standing like a resplendent statue before and above them, Haldiman gasped “Great heavens! and groped his way out-:en the pavement again, followed by the no less astounded other, who was an artist also struggling along in the black and white line. The two exchanged glances when at a safe distan: from the studio, pausing as they did so. ‘Their amazement was almost too great for words, yet Haldiman remarked solemnly: “I might have expected something of that sort. Imagine us dropping in there in thesé clothes. Lucky escape! I know a place on the King’s road where there are fluids to drink. Let us go there and see if we can recover from this blow. O, Barney Barney, what deeds are done in thy nam So the living statue silently warned off Barney's two Bohemian friends; who are all right in Paris, don’t you know, but not at all desirable when a man settles down to serious work and expects nobility at his re- ceptions. The calm dignity-of Barney's “man” was offset in a measure by the energetic activ- ity of the boy in buttons wha threw open the door with a flourish. “Buttons” might be likened to a torpedo boat, darting hither and thither under the shadow of a stately ironclad. While the left hand of the smail boy opened the door the right swept up to his cap fn a semi-military salute that wel- comed the coming and sped the parting guest 1t would be difficult to imagine a rcom more suitable for an artistic function like Barney’s “at homes” than Barney’s stu- dio. The apartment was large, and it con- tained many nooks and crannies that the Tottenham Court Road furnisher had taken excellent advantage of. ‘There were neat asked the “I don’t GSOOSHS DSO SOS OO OE GS OO HOSE HOG OCOSOOOOOS reached me. 4 O66 oi) little corners for two; there were secluded alcoves fitted with luxurious seats; there were most alluring divans everywhere, and on the floor were the softest of oriental rugs. Eastern lamps shed a subdued 1a- diance over retired spots that otherwise would have been dark, and wherever a cu’ tain could hang a curtain was hung. Bar- ney’s most important works, framed in gold and silver or the natural wood, were draped effectively, and to prevent the non- artistic mind from making a fool cf itself by guessing at the subject, the name of each picture stood out in black letters on the lower part of the frame. There were “Battersea Bridge at Midnight,” “Chels; in a Fog,” “Cheyne Row at Three A.M., and other notable works, while one start- ling picture of the Thames :n crimson and yellow showed Barney’s pow2r to accom- plish a feat which, if we may trust a well-known saying, has been tried by many eminent men, but has been rendered un- successful by the incombustible nature of that celebrated river. : “Barney's “afternoon” was at its height when the bell was rung by a young man who had not received a card; but “But- tons” did not know that, and he swung open the door with a florid flourish as if the visitor had been a duke. The incomer was as much taken aback by the triumph of nature and art at the head of the stair as Haldiman had been, but although he paused a moment in wonder, he did not retreat. He had a vague notion for an instant that {t might be Barney himself, but reflection routed that idea. He was entering a world unfamiliar to him, but his common sense whispered that the in- habitants of this world did -ot dress in such a fashion. “Is Mr. Barnard Hope at asked. “Yessir,” answered the boy, with a bow and a wave of his hand. “This !s his day. What name, sir?” home?” he “Marsten.”” “Mr. Marsten,” shouted the boy up the stair. The decorated sphinx at the top was uninfluenced dy the announcement, but a less resplendent menial appeared, who held back the heavy curtains as Marsien mount- ed the stair, and, when he entered, his name was flung ahead of him upon the murmur of conversation within. The sight that met Marsten’s eye as he eniered the studio was rather disconcerting to a diffi- dent man, but he was relieved to notice, after a moment's breathless pause beyend the threshold, that nobody paid the slight- est attention to him. The large room seemed bewilderingly full of people, and a row of men were standing with their backs against the wall, as if they were part of the mural decoration. Many of them held tea cups in their the general public.” 3; Our I's and Other Eyes. . Our I’s are just as strong as they were fifty years ago, when we have cause to use them. But we have less and less cause to praise ourselves, since others do the praising, and we are more than willing for you to see us through other eyes. This is how we look to S. F. Boyce, wholesale and retail druggist, Duluth, Minn., who after a quarter of a century of observation writes: .- ' “I have sold Ayer’s Sarsaparilla for more than 25 years, both at wholesale and retail, and have never heard anything but words of praise from my customers; not a single complaint has ever I believe Ayer’s Sarsaparilla to be the best blood purifier that has been introduced to This, from a man who has sold thousands of dozens of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, is strong testimony. But it only echoes popular sen- timent the world over, which has “Nothing but words of praise for Ayer’s Sarsaparilla.” Any doubt about it? Send for the “Curebook.” It kills doubts and cures doubters. Address: J. C. Ayer Co., Lowell, Mass. SSOSSSS SHS SOSSSESESSSOESE OOO hands, and allgof them looked more or less bered. The @ivans and chairs had been arranged, in rows, as for the viewing of some spectacle, and every seat w taken, mcst of the occupants being ladies. Two men servants were handing around tea and cake, while Barney himself flitted hither and thither, like a gigantic butterfly in a rose garden, scattering geniality and good bumor wherever he went. The steady hem of conversation was brightened con- stantly by silvery laughter. It was evi- dent that the gathering, with the possible exception of that part of it standing pen- sively around the walls, was enjoying itself. As the throng slowly resolved itself into urits before the gaze of young Marsten, his heart suddenly stopped, and then” went on again at increased speed, as he recog- nized Edna Sartwell sitting on one of the front chairs, smiling at some humorous remark which Barney, leaning over her, was making. A moment before Marsten had been conquering his impulse to re- treat by telling himself that all these idle persons were nothing to him, but now when he had recognized one person who was everything to him he had to quell his rising Panic with a new formula. Although out of his depth and ill at ease he knew that he would not quit the field in a fright be- fore the task he had set himself was even begun. At the back of his nature there Was a certain bulldog obstinacy, the lim- {tations of which had never yet been test- ed, although his unexpected meeting with a number of his fellow creatures in an evidently higher social station than his own put a severe strain upon his moral courage. In vain he told himself that he was as good as any of them, for in his heart he did not believe that he was, so the assurance was of little value to him. Finally, he took his courage in his hand, and spoke to the servant who held aside the curtains for him. (To be continued next Saturday.) Se HIS FOOT: WENT TO SLEEP. It. Never Waked Up and in Twenty Days the Man Was Dead. From the Kansas City Times. W. A. Fox of Argentine died yesterday in the Santa Fe Railway Hospital at Topeka, directly from the effects of his foot “going to sleep” last election day. Absolutely no possible explanation of the strange case can be given by the surgeons and physi- cians in charge of it. Nothing in medical science throws any light upon it. It is the first and only instance of the kind known to the profession, and has caused a sensa- tion among its members. W. A. Fox, who was forty-six years old, SESE SE SENS GE © eeeeoeoeeceece @ @ © @ @ @ @ @ had been an engineer on the Atchison, To- peka and Santa Fe railway for several years, running out from Argentine. He was well and favorably known there, and looked upon as a substantial citizen. ‘Dur- ing the fall, when Mayor Wiliard made his selections for election officers, he appointed Fox as one of the judges in the third ward. On November 3, election day, Fox took his place in the booth. He remained there all day. At night he began checking bal- lots. The task lasted until morning, and all this time Fox sat in one position, almost without moving. The morning of the 4th Fox went home. He claimed that sitting in the one position had caused his left foot to go to sleep. It pained him slightly, but he paid no atten- tion to it, going to bed and sleeping nearly all day and night. It was not until the morning of the 5th that the matter became serious. Then Fox was taken with sharp, Jerking pains in his left big toe. Day by day the trouble spread through his foot and up his leg, until the entire left limb was lifeless. Dr. Clopper, the Santa Fe surgeon, was called in, but could give no relie: After consultation over the strange case it was decided that the limb must neces- sarily be amputated as the only means of arresting the unknown disease. Finally Fox was removed to the road's Topeka hos- pital. The operation was to have been per- formed today, but death overtook Fox early yesterday morning, the disease hav- ing reached his heart. Dr. Clopper yesterday pronounced the case one of the strangest in the annals of the medical world. He declared that the disease was not rheumatism, although it somewhat resembled that. Neither was he prepared to designate it paralysis or blood poisoning. He could not, he said, tell what it was. Nor could any one els cee Guesses at Trath. From Harper's Bazar. Some men so exude egotism and selfish- ness that to dine with them provokes indi- gestion One of the greatest misfortunes t befall a man is to derive his chief from making money. And it & the y all greater, because he does not regard it as a misfortune Excape. From Judge. “Aren't you late in getting home Sunday school, Bobby?” “Well, I guess! There was a man thore who made an all-day speech and I thought he would never get out.” “Who was he?” “Aw, I forgot his name; but he was in escapd missionary.” From Life. HIS MISTAKE.