Evening Star Newspaper, January 23, 1897, Page 20

~ THE EVEN NG STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 1897-24 PAGES, THE MUTABLE MANY, (Copyright, 1896, by Robert Barr.) Written fer The Evening looked at him with wide-open eyes, at his vehemence; then she eto win | in After all, I although I t make rash promises again, I'll think | tall over, and ff. tis the use | of sifs? I shall father tonight at yu came to see him, and that I talked you about the stri hat wouldn't he true.-Miss Sartwell. didn’t come to see him; I came to see you. » his young man w the girl taking of Sartwell in} Ivantage ment with | self, as res, by “Yes. and you would have to tell him I fool to lose a | ©Umbed the wall. You can't go in for half tn his hand to, UUths. vou know, and we haven't talked much about the strike, have w h, but you came for that, didn’t you?” at Sartwe! had | ard Hope, | ; pay e, O8 Yes. of course. Nothing to have | DUt you see, it wouldn't do to say any uite willing to have | 3 thagt my 4 j thing about this to your father unle: marry the of nis em-/ you told him everything. He would want If Marsten he this the | to know why I came over the wall.” 1 you? I am sure you might come through the Edna Sartwell It would have be: Pe n much MS] “I will next time I com at he} the there, and I over it going to be idiot out making any promise. I beg of to say nothing about it to Mr | he wil! want all sorts of | I Gon’t quite see how I ca | “Well, then, I won't. Oh, angle risk of park fen. the t he a nch of an overhanging l himself up to the top, chanc- down among the He listened was no “OH, FATHER, girl to her father, although he thought at the time he had taken a manly and straightforward course. Had he been less impulsive, and tried to win still further the confidence of Sartwell, he might per- haps have ultimately gained a footing in his chief's house, and then who knows what might have happened! He had drawn upon the bank of confidence, and his check had heen dishonored; he could not risk a second mistake of that kind. “I don’t like your word ‘managed,’ said Edna at last, a little wrinkle of displeasure on her fair brow. “Your visits here do. not need to be managed. You can come as any other friend of my father comes, and we shali have plenty of opportunities for talk. You persist in thinking that my father has some feeling against you, when I assure you such is not the case.” Before Marsten could answer the silence was sharply broken by the emphatic click of the gate, and the young man was dum- founded by seeing Sartwell enter, stride up the path leading to the house, stop, turn his head toward the spot where they sat, then cross the lawn directly to them. Mar- sten sprang. to his feet; the girl arose more slowly, a roguish twinkle in her eye. Here was the solution of the preblem right to her hand, at precisely the proper moment. The expression of the three fa have interested a student of physiognomy Anger, delight, confusion were reflected from the countenances of Sartwell, Edna and Marsten, respectively, but the elder man was the first to control his emotion, and, as he approached, his face became an impassive mask, revealing nothing of the passion within. He cast a brief, quick glance at Marsten, who stood there pale, in the attitude of one who has been trap- ped, and who sees no avenue of escape. A longer, more searching look at his daugh- ter showed him at once that she had noth- ing to conceal. Her evident undisguised pleasure at his coming was too palpable to be misunderstood. He drew a deep breath of relief, but recognized instinctively that the situation required very delicate hand- ling if the girl’s ignorance was to be main- tained. Here the fates fought on his side, for each man, frcm directly opposite mo- lives, desired the same thing; neither wish: ed to have a conflict in Edna’s presence; neither could run the risk of full knowledge iM SU G coming to her at that time. Luckily Edna's rough the open Seen “ine | Promise, isn't {t? And I protested I had talked with ker the cay | Wouldn’t. 1 suppose you'll think that it is o one was there. caught | Just hke a woman. But Til ath as he saw a red silk scarf hang- | YOU another promise—never. the back of one of the chairs. She don't say that, M h at lea hought of him. romise Very well. the unused signal a py t father you were he ee ee ene ce ns cane |e Tlie aicil laughed weliensatiense se Tike aie ntly intended to throw the | comfiture when she so prompuy proken glass, otherwise why | 4t his word. 4 titto their rendezvous: but. | here.” she cried, gleefully, “ ven the signal agreed | You didn’t mean what you ro be danger that her| Believe you are afraid of my fathe: “IT am. “That's very funny. I should like to tell him that. The young man knit pondered on what explana- his brow tion he : were dis- : I can't imagine any one being canten ot = afraid of him.” Masatert hack bait nd to re-| _ ““Perha u have never seea him when n by the way he he saw | he ts angry approaching se. The ‘Oh, yes. I have; but I just sit quiet and girl hela ber E ha smile | Say nothing. He is never violent when to his he . but her words were | 4Mgry, as some men are, but his cyes half that ssu ing was watching for you.” you would not come ing I woul close, and his lips are set tight, and he do t care to be spoken to just then; so why I don’t speak.. He ou that night, was he not What night, Miss Sartwell? Marsten, almost holding his breath. “The night at the office when I came in. The first time you ever spoke to me. Don't you remember?” |. ‘‘Lshall never forget it she said, “hop- echoed ismay in re ashamed of. Now Marsten said in we may sh much good, talk-| a hushed voice. a but we are certainly | “Oh, you take things too much to heart, doing any er of us would fear | I can see tha You shouldn't mind a little world your know. There is | disappointment, nor think my father hard because he refused you. I spoke up for you at the time, as 1 told you yesterday, and | Im afraid I didn't further your interests by doing so, for father thinks women shouldn't interfere in businese.” They were seated opposite each other, the girl bending forward in friendly, con- | fidential attitude, the young man unable to take his eyes from her, lstening, like one in a dream, to the entrancing murmur er speech. ou spoke up for me?” soliloquizing. “Yes, and father said— The girl paused, embarrassed, remember- ing that what had been said had not been promise did | complimentary to her Istener. door eried the girl eagerly. ther all about mention yes- not ng of the | alarm- t you, that | being here | !f he repeated, as my | “What did he say?” asked Marsten Did you tell Mr. Sartweil I had} breathlessly. . | “Well, you know, he thought you too nd I didn't: but | young and inexperienced for a responsible diy guilty when | pesition, and you are not very old, are it. What I mean| you? But by and by, when you have more | experience, I am sure he will listen to you. | The great thing 1s to gain his confide . and after all, if T had | at least, that is what I should try to do. you see that? No.! “Yes, I should like to win his confidence,” promise in al! said Marsten dolefully. “Oh, it’s not difficult. jl that is required to do your duty. I think it’s nothing gainst a young man that he is ambitious. fhat ought to be in his favor, especially h Al-| with a man like my father. because he has for the mo-| always been very ambitious himself; and I : If| think the great drawback with working- yesterday—"| men is that they do not seem to care » my promise about | whether they better their positions or not. ¥ 4 word about | You can’t de anything for a man who visit I shall tell| won't help himself; and you are ambitious, ren’t you?” arsten seriously, | WH othe cires: why your father | tions hare fa come on aga! ew I was here to ki } one | base | course. is a man like Napoleon, and thoroughly and wicked. No perhaps you these things? i ‘Miss Sartwell, I would rather have your | advice than any one e in the world, and I will follow it to the letter.” t ou do take things too serlously. What Then it's wrong, of » if you want my advice—but hink I know nothing about weight of responsibility you would place | upon my shoulders! No, you must hear the advice first, and then judge whether it is st to follow it or not. J think you should rk along quietly for your very b | sible. Fathe year or two, doing Ing as little as pos- n who does things, 5 a things. He i r e much in talk, Th hen ju see he trusts you implicitly, perhaps that time he will offer you the situation; if he doesn’t, you let me know, and I | will speak to him about it. Oh, I shall ap- proach the sabject very diplomatically. I { shall begin by asking how you are getting | on at the works, and if he speaks well of | I will suggest that you be given a ter position than the one you are in. dG you like ian?” pian j} cit is an admirable one, —but—" | “But what? Where is the objection to Is no oi are you not much so, it I could see you 1 again, I—well—wonldn't become or despondent, you see. If that » managed in her chair, and looked view. es: Marsten, burdened by that he was not dealing her, yet afraid to awaken rematurely to the realities of the Was as confused as most single- sons are when ved in a false from which there ts no escape risking disaster. moment there arose in his fast- eart a herolc determination to with omises, last what w night you ‘had | ; so guilty cep anything a, that | make ho more promises to | he knew of them and there o feel guilty. I am sure he yt alved unles or beating cast all caution to the winds, and cry out, a i hi been glad to know we had! “I love you, my girl. I love you; I am talked about the strike, and were trying to| poor, and your father has forbidden me to help him: yet all because of that foolish | see you,” but he feared a repulse from the Pfomise 7 dared not say 2 werd. I think | girl, more fatal to his hopes than the check f you knew what I suffered, you would| he had received from her father. He -bent not ask me to keep anything from him.” “Dear Miss Sartwell,” cried Marsten, with more of his affection for the girl in his Yoice than he was aware of, “I would not his gaze upon the ground and curbed his impatience. He realized that honesty had not been the best policy when he had inop- Portunely confessed his affection for the eyes were all for her father and she gave no look to the young man, in whose face j 2nd attitude were undeniably stamped both guilt end discomfiture. to speak. “Oh, father, I am so glad were just speaking of you. “Yes, Edna, there are one or two adages bearing on the subject — complimentary and the reverse.” Edna laughed brightly. ‘We have been trying to settle the strike, and Mr. Marsten thought you would be angry if you knew he had been here— thought you might call it interference. 1 told him that was all nonsense, but I could see he was not convinced; so you come at the proper moment to solve the problem finally.” “I see I came just in time. I am only too glad to have assistance in unraveling this perplexing tangle, and I welcome help from any quarter.” “There!” cried the girl triumphantly, turning to her lover, who had by this time partially recovered his composure. “Isn't that just what I said?” “Mr. Hope told me an hour ago, Marsten, that you had visited him yesterday, and had done me the honor to call at Wimble- don afterward; so I came home, fearing I might miss a second visit. Mr. Hope spoke very highly of you, and I do not wish to be less cordial than he in expressing my own opinion of your most disinterested devotion to the welfare of your fellow-workman.” Marsten moistened his dry lips, but made no attempt at reply. Timorous little Mr. Hope had not kept faith with him, then, and after counseling him to silence, had blurted out all the particulars as soon as he came again under the influence of his masterful servant, and thus had precipitat- ed this deplorable encounter. Edna looked from one to the other, a slight shade of ap- prehension on her face. The words of her father were all that she could ask, their tone was unexceptionable and it—yet—there was frost in the air. She spoke with less buoyancy than before, still with confidence that all was as it should be. “That was one of the very points which troubled us. Mr. Hope asked Mr. Marsten to say nothing about the Surbiton visit, while I felt sure you wouldn’t mind.” “You did quite right, Marsten, in saying rothing about it when Mr. Hope asked you not to mention it, but Edna is right also in stating that it would have made no differ- ence to me.” “Now,” said Edna to the young man, “you see how groundless all your fears were, and how a few simple words of ex- planation clear away all difficulties. I hope you will visit us whenever you want to talk to my father—you would be pleased to have him come, wouldn't you, father? Mr. Marsten has done his best to settle the strike, even though he failed.” - “I quite appreciate that, Marsten, and my house is always open to you.” Edna glanced with a smile at Marsten; his eyes were fixed intently on Sartwei e who continued suavely: “However, it 1s only right that I should let you know there will be no more need to discuss the strike. I have been played with long enough. It is now my turn to strike. On Monday the works will be going again. I have on file four times as many applica- Uons for work as I have vacancies to fill. My clerks are at this moment writing out some hundreds of telegrams, asking the re- ceivers to report for duty on Monday morn- ing. shall have no more traffic with the union. “Oh!” cried the girl in dismay. “Won't you give me another chance with the men?” asked Marsten, speaking for the first time. “There were only a few votes against us at the last meeting.” “You have from now until Friday night. I give you up to the latest moment, and that is why I pay six times as much and use the telegraph rather than the post. Letters would do quite as well mailed on Friday. The works open on Monday, with or without you, so you see you have Ittle time to lose.’” “I shall at once go to London and call a meeting of the men. May I see you at your ce tomorrow?” “Ceriainly. My office is always open; but remember, it 1s an unconditional surrender now. I'll have no more parleying.” “Good-bye,” said Marsten briefly, turning on his heel and hurrying to the gate, father and daughter watching him until he dis- appeared. Sartwell sank down in one of the chairs, murmuring as he did so: “Thank God!” Why do you say that, father?” jay whal? Oh! Because a certain ten- sion has been relaxed. I have seen Hope and Monkton off together for Germany this morning, and they will be gone for at least a fortnight. This leaves me a clear field, and I will crush this strike as I would ane shell.” rtwell nervously clenched his ri hand, as if the egg shell were within ie “I am sorry for the men, father.”* “So am I, my dear, if they stand out, but it will be their own fauit. Experience is sald to teach a Specified class of individuals and they are preparing for themsel: bitter dose of 1b" ne “Will you not take him back, eye: they hold out?” en “Him? Whom? Oh! Marsten. If they do not come back in a body, I will never allow another union man to set foot in the works again. But never mind the men; I want to talk about yourself.” “About me?” “Yes. About the situation here at home. It is not exactly what I wish it to be, and I intend to try an experiment.” “Do you mean what happened yesterday between mother and me?” *Z mean the whole situation, What hap- She was the first you came; we pened yesterday was merely an indication of the tendency—I don't know just how to put it, but it isn’t satisfactory.” “I was at fault, father, as I said last night; I was worried and anxious—that is no excuse, of course—and then I said things I shouldn't have said. I was sorry at once, but Iam more sorry now when I see I have troubled you. won't happen again. I shall be very casa in the future, and I am sure if you thiAR nq more about it I shall do better,” “My dear Edna, T the least, nor do I —that 1s, not entire! not blaming you in fk you were at fault I ayn not censuring any one; we are as @od made us, and there are differences of* temperament which gometimes cause fftétion. You are not having a fair chan st now. I care very little about your er’s friends, and I have few friends mygé@lf; thus you have no companicns of your wn age whom you can have here, andyqwhose visits you can return, as is right @md proper. You are thrown too much on Your mother and me for your friendship, and I am not sure that either of us fs suitable. You are at an im- pressionable time of life, and I want to do my best for you; so I think I shall send you to some school’ where you will meet nice girls and form friendships that you will enjoy. Then you have a decided talent for music, which will be developed, and—there are many reasons for. such a step. i uu mean that I shall have to leave asked Edna with a tremor in her voice. “I think that will be best. In a year or two you will look upon life with perhaps more philosophy. year or two!” spoke of eternity. Her father smiled. ‘The time will- pass very quickly,” he sai “In a year or two, when you come home, both your mother and you will be glad to meet each other. We sometimes grow to think kindly of the absent.” The girl buried her face in ker hands. “Tut, tut, Edna, my own little girl!” cried her father, placing his chair beside hers and taking her almost in his arms. ‘One would think you were being sent off to Africa. I imagined you would be glad.” “It isn’t that,” she sobbed. “It shows how dreadfully wicked you must think me when you are compelled to send me away. eried Edna, as if she ‘Nonsense, Edna! It shows nothing of the kind. I'can’t send your stepmother to boarding school, can I? Well, then! I don’t think you wicked at 1. I have not the slightest doubt but you said just what you were provoked to saying. There now what a hopeless admission that is to make to a rebellious daughter. No, no. I am not blaming you in the least. As I said be- fore, am blaming nobody. We are driven by circumstances, that's all. ‘And am IJ never to see you except when I come home?” My darling girl, that is the delightful part of it. You will see me and I will see you practically more often than we do now. What do you think of that? I shall select some excellent school, situated in a bracing spot near the sea. I believe it will be cheap- er for me to take a season ticket on the railyway there, [ shall go so often. We will take long walks on the downs entirely alone and talk of everything. We will have delightful little dinners at the wayside inns we discover, and now and then a grand luncheon at some very expensive place with a window that looks over the chan- nel. Edna, it will be the rejuvenating of your old father. He rarely gets a sniff of ozone as things are now, but then—” Edna, with a cry of joy, flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, father,” she ered, to be true! When can I go? “This very week, I hope. how view. hat is too good You see now verything depentis on the point of Chapter NIX. With the words “starved to death” ring- ing in his ears, Langley walked to Chelsea. Bitterly he accused himself for his stupid blindness; all this had been going on for days, and he had had’ no suspicion of it. She had from the first undoubtedly stinted herself so that her father might not go hungry, and when, at last, the real pinch came, she was too weak to resist it. Her father, isolated by his temper from any friends who might have seen what was happening and given warning in time, had also been unconscious of what was passing before his eyes. His gruff independence had slowly famished his own daughter. “Starved to death!” in the richest city in the world—the granary of the nations, in- to whose ample lap pours the golden wheat from every eountry under the sun that ripens it. " At last Langley reached the studio and might have known, had he been: conversant with the habits of the great world, that a notable function was in progress thereabout by the numerous carriages, with fine horses and resplendent coacpmen and footmen, that waited near by. "In his earlier days Langley had hoped for pupils to instruct and thus increase his scanty income. He had cards printed—‘Albert Langley” in the center, and “Teacher of Music” in smaller type in the corner. These were never used, Langley not having the courage to push his inquiries for pupils and secure them. He, knowing Barney to be a fashionable man, had put some of these cards in his pocket, and. when the boy in buttons swung open the door the bit of pasteboard was handed to him. The boy glanced at the card, dropped it into the receptacle that contained many others, and shouted the name up his stair- way, wafting its ascent with a wave of his hand. The man who held aside the heavy drapery which covered the doorway bawled the name into the room, from which a con- fused murmur of conversation came, min- gled now and then with a pleasing ripple of laughter. The ornamental living statue at the top of the stair gazed dreamily over Langley’s head as he mounted. Taking another card the organist gave it to the man at the door. “I have not come to the ‘at home,’ he said. ‘Would you give this to Mr. Hope and ask if he will see me for a moment. Tell him I called last night, and could not come earlier today.” The man took the card and disappeared behind the curtains. In an incredibly short time Barney came out, and his reception of the musician was bewilderingly effusive. “My dear fellow,” he cried, placing a hand on each shoulder of Langley, ‘can you play the piano? Of course you can. What a foolish question to ask! I always light on my feet. Providence has dropped you down here, my boy, don’t you know. Here we have just sent out to scour Chelsea for a pianist, and here you drop down from the skies, don’t you know. This is luck. Want to see me? Of course you do, and what's more to the point, I want to see you, don’t you know! Now come right in. I've got the finest grand piano you ever fingered in your life—magnificent instrument case de- Signed by myself—told ’em to spare no ex- pense, and they didn’t, don’t you know. Trust ‘em for that. Now come in, come in. ‘Mr. Hope, I did not come to play. in no condition for playing.” “Of course you didn’t come to That's the beauty of it. You want thing from me, now don’t you?” “Yes, and if you will give me a mo- ment——" “A thousand of ‘em, my boy; a thousand of ’em, but not just now. Listen to me. You want something I've got, and I want something you've got. Very well. All Eng- land’s prosperity is based on just that po- sition of things. Our commerce is founded on it. Our mutual country is great merely because she knows what she wants, and because she has something the other fellow wants, don’t you know. Now, I want a man who can play dance music and I want him now—not tomorrow, or day after, or next week. You see.what I mean. Good. You come in and poligh, us off some waltzes on the new piano; then, when it is all over, I'll let you have what you want, if it’s half my kingdom, as the story books say. Then we will both be happy, don’t you know.” “I am organist at St. Martyr’s Church. I can’t—” “That's all right. Don't apologize. You can play the piano as well as the organ—1 know that by the look of you. Come in, come in.” + Barney triumphantly dragged the reluc- tant musician after him. “I’ve got him,” he cried, at which there was a clatter of applause and laughter. ‘Now, there,” said Barney, jubilantly, seating’ Langléy before the grand piano, with its great Hd lke a dragon's wing propped up, “there's all the sheet music any reasonable man can want; but if you prefer anything else I'll send’ out for it; and there's the piano—Come, let us hear its tone,’ as the poet says.” ‘The rugs which usually covered the waxed floor had been cleared away; the chairs had been shoved into corners and against the wall. There was much laugh- ter and many protestations that they had not come prepared for a dance, but all were quite noticeably eager for the fun to Iam play. some- (To be continued next Saturday.) FOR INDIGESTION Use Horsford’s Acid Phosphate. Dr. 8. P. PEOK, Hinton, W. Va., say: % have used it iu indigestion aud 1¢ bas no’ eq ed President. as Little Then in the Way of Lavish Display. THE OATH OF ——_+ Written for The Evening Star. figure of A.D. to the second in their order these figures, and it will read A.D. 1789, 1897 what we would now consider a western territory. Picture in all es broad canvas spread before our view today. This embryo nation was waiting with anx- jety, and yet with strong faith, the com- pletion of the organization of the federal body by the inauguration of George Was! ington as the first President of the United States, which event the honest men of the whole country contemplated with feelings of singular felicity, for they believed that it meant the commencement of good gov- ernment—the best of blessings—under fa- vorable auspices. But in one particular there is a most striking contrast between the two pictures. Now the papers of the national capital are, and have been for the past month, filled with accounts of the preparations for the various ceremonies which are to attend the inauguration of our next President, but one must search with all diligence to find any notice in the papers of New York even so short a time as three weeks before, cf any preparation for the first inaugaral ceremonies, and when this first notice is found it states in few words that his ex- (Boston) town’’—had lately received an el gant suit of American broadcloth, mano- factured at Hartford, Conn., in oh he Was to make his appearance as Vice Pres- Ident of the United States. This note appeared on the same day on which the votes for President were counted in the Senate chamber by his excellence: John Langdon of New Hampshire, who had been chosen president pro tem. of the Sen- ate, while at the same hour in the House of Representatives Mr. Madison of Vir- ginia was offering his resolution from the House as a ccmmittce of the whole, “That the following duties ought to be levied on goods, wares 2nd_merchandise imported into the United States;” rum, all other spirituous liquors, teas, sugars, etc.” And two days later Mr. Smith appeared before this committee of the whole with a petition from the trade: men, manufacturers and others of the town of Baltimore, praying the attention of Congress to American manufactures. Nothing further is heard cf any prepara- tion for the inaugural ceremonies until April 15, when the House committee to whom had been referred the matter of the proper ceremonial of receiving the Presi- dent and Vice President reported that Mr. Osgood, the proprietor of the house which had been lately occupied by the President of Congress, should be requested to put the said house and the furniture therein in proper condition for the use of the Pres!- dent of the United States, to provide for his “temporary accommodation” at the ex- pense of the government. And that a com- mittee of three members of the Senate and five members of the ouse skould receive the President at such place as he should embark from the New Jersey shore for New York, and should conduct him with- out form: or ceremony to the house ap- pointed, and that at a time conventent to himself both houses of Congress should receive him, In the matter of the reception of the Vice President the same committee re- ported that a committee of two members from the Senate and three from the House should wait upon the Vice President of the United States as soon as he arrived in the city and congratulate him upon his safe arrival. To Receive the President. On April 20, only ten days before the date | of the inauguraticn of this, the first Pres- ident of the new republic, the governor of New York and the principal officers of the state and city of New York met and agreed upen the arrangements for the part they were to take in the. reception of the President and Vice President. The descrip- tion of these arrangements in full would rot cover a quarter of a colurrn of one of our daily papers, and on the very same day the mayor and city troop of horse went out to Kingsbridge to meet the Vice President and escort him to the house of John Jay, where his arrival was announced by the discharge of cannon. A little later Mr. Adams was introduced to the Senate by the President pro tem., and conducted to the chair, from which he immediately arcse to make his address as first President of the Senate of the United States. ‘A clipping from a New York paper of April 24, 1789, says: “There arrived in the City yesterday the Illustrious Georg: Washington, President of the United States, amidst the joyful acclamation of every party and every description of citi- *Washington was received at Elizabeth- town, N.J., by the committees from the Sen- ate, the House of Representatives and the state and city, with whom he embarked in a barge built for the purpose of wafting his excellency across the bay, and rowed by thirteen pilots of the harbor, dressed in white uniforms; immediately in the train of the barge followed a long line of barges, |A SIMPLE CEREMONY Toauguration of Washington as First CONTRAST 10 THE COMING EVENT OFFICE HANGE THE LAST place of and back we go 108 small Yet this reversal of the telescope shows a ential points much like the cellency, John Adams—“the glory of our | and ort. All Newsdealers. me Singic copies 10 cents. te 3 os vessel boats from New York, while from the good sh and trom the Battery roared a salute of thirteen guns. On the New York side he was received at the steps leading :p ‘om | the water's edge by the governor of New York, the state and city officials, (he French and Spanish ambassador: 1 the various military organizations of the cl and was escorted by them, foilowel by a large concourse of citizens, to the house fitted up for him on Cherry stree:. April 25 the House received a leites from the Vice President requesting tha: a com- mittee be appointed by the Hous: th a committee of the « ime, place and mann should be adminis’ t, whereupon the Hous> res elf into a committee of the whole fo the consideration of the momentous ques- tion, and a bill was passed 2nd sent to "he ate on April 28, and was at once passed | by the Senate. Agreeable to the joint resolution of both houses of Congress, the ceremoay auguration took place on Apr: a.m. the church bells rang, and of the different denominations 4 | their congregations and offered pra the safety and honor of the Presid confer The Inaugural Parade. At 12 m. the two houses of Congress as- sembled in their respective chambers and the members of the House, headed by the Speaker, immediately proceeded to the Sen- ate, there to await the coming of the Presi- dent, who at the same hour left his house on Cherry street with an escort arranged as follow Col. Lewis, supported by two officers. Capt. Stakes, with the Troop of Horse. Artillery. Maj. Van Horne. Grenadiers, under Capt. Harfin. German Grenadiers, under Capt. ri Maj. Bicker. The infantry of the brigade. Maj. Christie. Sheriff. The committee of the Senate. The President and suite. The committee of the House. The Hon. Mr. Jay, Gen. Knox, Chancellor Livingstone and several other gentlemen of: distinction. On the arrival of the procession at Federal Hall, Washington at once pro- ceeded to the Senate chamber, where he was received by the Vice President, the Sp er and the members of both houses rising. The central chair on the dais had been left for the President, and the ar- rangements had been made so that the Vice President was seated on the right, with the Senators occupying seats on the same side of the chamber, while the Speak- er sat on the President's left with the members of the House in front of him. Seats had also been provided for the late President of Congress, the governor of the “western territory,” the five persons at the head of the three great departments, the French and_ Spani ambassador chaplains of Congress, persons in the Pres- ident’s suite, and also for the governor, lieutenant governor, chancellor, chief jus- tice, other judges of the Supreme Court and the mayor of the city. After the President had taken his seat the Vice President announced to him that this assembly was ready to accompany him to the outer gallery of the Senate chamker, where in the presence of the peo- ple who crowded the street below, he re- ceived the cath of office at the hands of Robert R. Livingstone, chancellor of New York. Gen. Jacob Morton, marshal of the day, was at this time master of St. Jonn’s Lodge, the oldest Masonie body of New York city, and had brought from the altar of his lodge the Bible with its cushion of red velvet, upon which the chancellor, who was grand master of the Grand Lodge of New York, administered the oath. After the ceremonies were over Gen. Morton SON GNCNCN GM A Journal for Gentlewomen —1897 gentlewomen. different from and as far advance of other magasines of to-day as these are better than the ones of two decades ago— years, and lo! our ay 4 great nation has 8 aoe dwindled to thirteen (asa states hugging the Py Atlantic coast, with ey) an uncertain hold cn (E53 ts in pace with 1897 ideas and vicu's on all subjects relating to society, education, literature The pens and the brushes of Jamous writers and artists combine to make THE PURITAN a magnificent symposium of fine reading and beautiful pictures. iption price $1 a yeer. | 111 Fifth A: ROPERS OR oat N Sew | States, on jot t Totally 7 women's FRANK A. MUNSEY, Publisher. » New York. es LANNE aS Han and was answered en guns and the people. In the midst of the President, accompanied by of Congress, returned to the Senate cham- ber. wh e delivered his inaugural dress, after which, attended by t President he went to St d the mem! Paul's ¢ prvice was conduc 3 New York, who was also ch gress. Ther> had been muc > the danger of an illum of fireworks in the eve auspicious day, but the people to hav read that c in the evening b very splendid show of fireworks.” Thus was in augurated the first President of the Uni States. A New York paper of May 2. commen the ceremonies attend this inauguration, said: “We feel a faction in adding to the account given in yesterday’s paper of the inauguration of the President that his exe: occasion was dressed in a of elegant broadcloth of the of his country. There Are Others, From the Boston Courier. Mrs. Meek—“Of course T am worried lency on t complete manufactu’ folded the leaf on which Washington's hand had rested and returned the Bible to its place on the altar of St. Jobn's Lodge, where it has ever since remained, except when it was borne in the procession of Masonic brethren met to pay funeral hon- ors to the deceased brother, George Wash- ington, in December, 1799. As soon as Washington had received the oath the chancellor, turning to the people, proclaimed him President of the United Golf has become all the rage —_ here,”"—Dispatch from As a dutiful wife I can’t help fecling for I am sure that my husband is keeping something from me, and I shan’t be con- tent until I know what it Is Mrs. Freak—"“My husband is keeping something from me, too, and I am worrieg because I know what it Mrs. Meek—“Indeed! What is it?” Freak—“It's money.” ———— ee He Agreed With Her. From the Beston Courier, “I am convinced,” said the philo housekeeper, “that this world deal older than it is said to be “If inere had ever been any doubt in my mind on that point.” replied the profession- al boarder, “these eggs would have di pelled it.” is a great —--s0- The Best Arrangement. From German Exchange, Judge (to a couple sentenced for fighting) —“Have you anything to say? Male Defendant would like my wi to commence her t in prison after Iam released.” — Bad for Them. . From Life, Benny Bloobumper—“Islands don't agree with volcanoes, do they, pa?” Mr. Bloobumper—“What do you mean, Benny?” “I read in a newspaper that the volcano of Bogoslov, on the Alaska coast is con stantly throwing up new islands, +]0¢ — Did as He Was Bid. v From the Detroit Journal, ‘Now, Thomas,” said the teacher, “write me a sentence in which the words ‘pine’ and ‘butternut’ are used.” And Thomas wrote: “The fellow felt al- mighty tough, when him his best girl cut: first he thought he'd pine away, and then he thought he'd butternut. ———--+0e-- The Retort Courteous. ' From Odds and Ends. yson—What is your business, may I From Tid-Bit Hostess (entertaining two lady friends to herself)—"Oh, dear, I do wish one would £0 —I have so mu about the other! ch to tell either of them Central Africa.—Life.