Evening Star Newspaper, February 20, 1897, Page 20

20 THE EVENING sTaR, SattRDay; FEBRUARY 20, 1897-24 PAGES. AN AFTERNOON AT MR, PEALE’ ABtory of the Painting of the Portrait of Washington. (Copsright, 1807, by Clinton Ross.) Mr. Peale bent lovingly over his favorite subject, putting a touch here, there, and | standing back to note the effect. In the shadow of the rear of the room Don Juan Mirialles, the unaccredited representative of his Spanish maf nodded approval: yet made the very remark of Washingt Irving, a generation after, “No ar his best loo! M. Mirialles, said Mr. Peale; “that H, I like it,” said the don, wagging his head wisely. “I must have my copy in a hurry It’s ke ping pace with the original; and, al itself. Th behind the s¢ . is almost an oj against the wall, are nearly alike, are ‘ jd the don, criti tel the difference, I il they hardly “Wal Peale in un may be f in ‘73, w hre f the Custis children were don: and then that bust stuc at tw the corner.» Since, > Steely “AND I HATE YOUR EXCELLENCY.” “I don’t know that he will.” At the moment Burton announced, “Gen. Washington.” The painter ran the situation over hur- rledly; but another glance at his visitor ie — conquered; yet he expostulated this far: “You know he comes here as a favor to me. I only have this day, He leaves Philadelphia jomorrow.* this is a favor to me,” she said, turning the fire of her blue eyes on him. Her reddish hair at one side had escaped from its fastening, the low broad fore- head, the thin flushed face, the small meuth, the graceful figure in a fitting gown, left him no alternative. “Well? Show his excellency—here at once,” he ended to Burton, and turned to his palette, not looking again at her, until presently were heard footfalls and the beat of his excellency’s spur. “Well, Peale, I found time. to thank me” “That I do, indeed, your excellency, you may believe.” ‘Sitting for a portrait has become almost a second nature. I sit, and then tomorrow I shall be back to duty, endless dut. said the painter. the general saw the You ought the moment young lady who was in the shadow. He stepped back embarrassed, and rather an- did Peale mean by having around? Then he remembered ers, and bowed courteously. he said, “Mi: Ronald's daughter. You remember me, your excellency,”’ said the young lady, giving her hand. “It is good of you.” Ah, how could I forget you,” sald he. “It is against Mr. Peale’s request that am here, sir,” she said, bending her don’t blame Peale. sure ye I want “And the nity.” Ronald, Stuyve- I am very glad, I d to see you so much,” she said. emed to be no other opportu- said he, suspecting. true that—that Captain Jermyn condemned’"—her voice caught— ye it has been to die?” e looked at her quickly. You are a friend of Sir Henry’s cap- seemed to have deserted him, and that hour's sitting was altogether unsatisfac- tery. When his sitter had gone he decided to take a turn in the air to see if that might put this mood away, Not Knowing What She Did, She Seiz- ed a Brush and Made a Daub Over the Face. 4An hour after Burton asked by Miss Ronald if Mr. Peale were in. No. Might she not see the portrait again? Burton did not hesitate, and left her In the studio. Did she wish to ask of that face how she might bright the original to her purpose? The figure stood firm, the hand on the can- non. The boy and the horse of the right, the iing of soldiery of the background, the two officers at the left, but brought out the forcefulness of that one personality. So he dominated all in this war. He appeared to Eleanor Ronald of pitiless strength. What had led her here to look at it, after that interview? She could not have told. She had said it was the wish to apologize to Mr. Peale. But, finding him out, she had asked to » portrait. Now, looking at it, her h s full of despairful passion. Everything had been tried for Capt. Jer- myn, and last of all she had made her appeal and had failed. The portrait seemed to take the place of the original. She hated it as fiercely as she did him; as much as she loved John Jermyn. One of those in- tense natures that give all, she could be everything that is exquisite in woman, could be honest and faithful to the last, and yet, when it was the pefil of one she loved, she could be a mad woman. And now it was madness for the moment. ‘The afternoon sunshine fell over the figure, bringing out the details. Yes, its mocking strength appalled and shocked. Not knowing what she did, she seized a brush and made a daub over the face that eral has given sittings in ‘76 and again in "78, But he changes,” the artist went on. “The spirit acts on the face,” said the other, sympathetically. “Yes,” Mr. Peale said. “And perhaps you have to see a bit into a man's heart to paint him properiy, and the heart of a man of action never beats two years alike.” “Don't forget that In my copy, monsteur. I suppose I can't cajole the council to let me have this. But I don’t know that I wish it; mine will be almost as good.’ “You may believe I do what I may said the painter, remembering how generous @ patron was this nobleman. The visitor was sure that Mr. Peale tainly had, and would, in view of the fact | that his Spanish majesty wished to look on the face of that wonderful general of whom the world was now talking. Mr. Peale’s black servant, Burton, brought in wine and cakes, when Don Mirialle’s | enthusiasm tncreased. Unfortunately, he went on In the vein of explanation, he must act !n America through the French minis- ter, but that would not be always. When he returned to Madrid he would make them understand that the King of Spain should | recognize the United States. Now he rose, and bade Mr. Peale a cour- teous good-day. He had a round of visits to make. Alone, the painter touched the cannon on whi ‘3 hand rested S was to be done on the face, but his v had frightened the mood. Perha last sitting would give the impr lacked When Burton announced Miss Ronald, he sizt and threw his brush down petu- For a moment he could see every | f Eleanor Ronald's charming figure. ait had been a labor of such devo- tion as the artist may give to a subject ap- pealing to his temper. : of » Show her here,” he said ed his coat into some ers through his hair. i a laughing voice. face did not laugh. He saw how serious this delightful person began, clu across to t azing at it with ¢ h- stion- she asked. Everybo has an portra said she, tha’ did: * sald he. you deiigh t say you : ner gloves with her fingers > faced hii You told me he would be here ” she said. ‘Ab, I dia” * “II went to see ; “I beg your pardon, but Iam afraid he would not like it.” he said bluntly. “You must have seen him often.” Yes—yes—that isn I wish to see him when he is not thinking of duty. He's in town but for two days. I might go to his quarters and find he was too busy just to meet « girl after- + Ronaid. “He ts—my betrothed,” she sald. “Ah, I didn't know that,” said he. “I didn’t know it.” “It is not known,” said she, hoarsely. “You understand now why I wished to see you?” “Yes, yes,” said he, losing his self-con- trol. “I know, and I am sorry—so sorry, Miss Ronald, believe me. He is a charm_ ing young gentleman.” “Ye: said she. But the evidence is against him, Miss What was he doing disguised in our lines w the plans of the fort in his pocket? The court has decided, and—1 can’t give my influence against {t. How can I? Is he better than Captain Hale?” “Yes, he is,” said she. “Ok, I know, Miss Ronald. It is hor- ribly hard for you, and I am sorry. But I must say what I said at the opening of the war when my own good friend, Col. Webb, asked me to have him immediately exchanged. It would give me pleasure. to render you any service in my power, but it is impossible for me to comply with your request without violating the principles of justice and incurring the charge of par- He wondered if she would sob. He hated to think of her tears, and again he mut- tered low at Peale’s tactlessness. The art- ist stood fidgeting in the background. But she did not sob. She only turned on him with dry, flashing eyes. “Sir, you have spoken as I thoacht you weuld. Captain Jermyn was but doing the duty assigned him. If he and his half cozen men were in citizens’ clothes it was because he had that order from his gen- eral. As for the plans of Fort Clinton, these were given him by another, whose he will not utter—” “If he would? “But he won't.” o, I wouldn't !f I were in his place.” d yet,” she went on» gathering an- xer, “your excellency will not wurn a finger to save him, when you could. Her voice sank to helplessness, and she caug rself in a sob. “What good does his life do you?” “The xample,” said he. “Don't you see know, poor girl. nd I hate your excellency. She rushed past him, not sobbing then, and they heard the swish of her skirt in the hall. And all was still for a moment, Vashington sald: Peale, I am ready.” your excellency will forgive me.” e's very—yes, very pretty. I have blame for you. She almost made me what she wanted me to.” You are very good,” said the artist. ‘Oh, don't be bothered,” said the fling. “Do go on.” Yet Mr. Peale's cunning of eyes and hand no suddenly became leering. Turning with a low cry hurried out through the hall to the waiting coach, and, in a tone trem- bling so that the man stared, gave the or- der. What had she done? she asked. She knew only too well: and she had but hurt Mr. Peale. That calmly strong figure was as much out of reach as ever. Self-loath- ing left her ill and gasping, as the coach drew to her door. So pale and listless she reached her room. On the desk was a let- ter, and she started, noting the hand and the seal. Tearing it open, she reac “Dear Nell: I got away. I will explain later. But I am unhurt and in New York. I just have reported to Sir Henry, and now hasten to apprise you of the fact. Y'r's, dear, Jack Jermyn. A few moments after, all dead in her heart save the passion of self-abasement, she ordered her coach. But one course was clear. She must go directly to Mr. Peale, whom she had hurt. Yet, when started, she knew she could not. She confessed she was weak. It was easier to go to the gen- eral, whom an hour before she had so hated. Yes, his excelleney chanced to be in that moment, the orderly said at the acor. Some minutes after he was free to this undeniably handsome young lady, who gazed at him with sad, staring eyes. He watched her, courteous and bowing. “I am glad for you, Miss Ronald—and pri- vately for myself—to tell you that Captain Jermyn is out of our jurisdiction through a most daring escape.” “I know,” said she. He stared, wondering why she expressed so little elation. “He wrote you?” es, he has written me.” “I thought that might be the case—” he began. “Don’t speak to me kindly,” she broke cut, almost flercely. “I can’t bear it, for I am beneath contempt. Oh, sir, I have been mad. * said he, soothingly, “how you must have felt.” “And what did I do? I hated you. I could have killed you. I went back to Mr. Peale to apologize to him, and, not finding him, I went in—I don’t know what prompted me—to look at the portrait. I wanted to study you, I think; to find how I might move you.” “Yes, said he. har “You did—horribly hard. Well, the sight of that face—your painted face—maddened me—and—and—I took a brush 1 found and daubed it.” He looked at her in astonishment. ‘And you only hurt Mr. Peale.” “God forgive me, I only hurt Mr. Peale.” He walked up and down. This was worse than before Trenton. Yet, she did not seem the least hysterical. His heart stirre for she was very pretty and in distress. “My dear young lady,” he said soothing- ly, “don’t feel so badly. Come with me to Mr. Peale. I will explain all, and put the blame on myself.” “But you did not daub the portrait. “Ah, yes, by proxy; I made you do it.” A smile broke through the tears that would come. ‘Oh, sir, if you would help me that much. I should go alone, and tell him, but with you—I shall be braver.” “Then I am not so bad after all?’ “Do not talk of being bad—after my ex- ample,” she cried. “But I know your provocation—your highly nervous state over Capt. Jermyn. That explains the whole situation to me, and it must to Mr. Peale. Come, I will go now, and, despite matters, I will wait lone enough tomorrow to give him another sit- ting. That ought to be enough after the number of times he has tried his hand on me. Giving an order, he led her to-her waiting ccach, and staring folk on the street saw the great man driving with Miss Ronald, and guessed and gossiped. “You are the greatest man in—in the world,” she was saying. “Next to Capt. Jermyn,” he said, smiling. “Yes, after Capt. Jermyn,” she said. “You know that the easiest way to make a woman think you are a great man is to try to please her. “I wish Congress were a woman, then,’” soe he. * : “But, oh, your excellency, how e Mr. Peale?” ance ‘Don’t mind,” said he. “I must have seemed “We will—to- gether. I don’t belfeve’ he can be worse than the king’s men_at Long Island. At the door Burton met them, and stared suspiciously at the young lady. Of course he knew, she said to herself; and thvolun- tarily she caught her escort’s arm; and-so clin, ee to the general she entered the studio. t Mr. Peale looked around from the can- vas on the easel. If Hie started at first, his face fell into courteous indifference. “Mr. Peale,” she began, anticipating the se ‘2 we at.” or er voice, her bowed head declared self- abasement. ke What?” said he. °! “Let me explain,” the general interrupted. “You heard the conversation when Miss Ronald asked my faver for Capt. Jermyn?” “Yea.” “Returning here to'apologize to you for having forced herself’ on my presence in your studio; she saw: the picture, and for- getting that it was not the original, daubed it.”” She listened with, beating heart, and heard Mr. Peale say, easily: hoe the portrait is untouched. There She raised her head, and saw in wonder the full-length of the general. And then I dreamed it?” she cried. “Yes, think you dreamed it. And don’t be bothered, please,” Mr. Peale went on. <>. “I know how you were wrought up about | @ \ Capt. Jermyn. I understood perfectly.” “I did it, then?” she asked abjectly. THE PRESS OF PARIS Jeading French Dailies and Some of Their Enterprises. JOURNALISM VS. AMERICAN SCHOOL Permanency of the Favorite Liter- ary Departments. LACKING NOTHING BUT NEWS Sees Special Correspondence of The Evening Star, PARIS, February 2, 1897. HE ENTERPRISE | of Parisian journal- N ism is not ours; yet \ there are phenomena “Oh, it will only make but a. little of the past two years trouble.” which point flatter- “I am 80, so sorry. And yet it is there, Ingly to the influ- untouched,” she added, staring at the por- ence of American trait. “I don't see what you mean, Peale,” the general himself said. “You have fixed it methods. The Figaro has come out with up again.” six pages daily—“the “No,” said Mr. Peale, looking at her un- first in France to easily. “The fact is, 1 had replaced the tempt the experi- original on the easel by a copy 1 was mak- ing for Don Juan Mirialles.” “You dear, dear Mr. Peale,” she eried; space is Aareely etree and, stepping up to him, to his embar-|©Ver to le grand reportage. The Gaulois rassed delight, she kissed him; which Capt. | has enlarged its page—“‘le plus grand jour- somya ee when, long after, she con- | nal du matin!""—to the advantage of a “real ‘essed it.” estate ence”—and the new department,” so excruciatingly Undone by a: by His Double. een in enterprise as to be unknown Brent cies Uhieigy “Rdcaa! in America as yet, unless I err. The Temp: or Times, has made its Petit Temps, or Little Times, a permanent instead of an oc- casional latest-telegraphic-news supple- ment delivered from house to house be- tween 9 and 10 p.m. And the Debats—the French London Times—a paper which, {n 1898, rose to the height of progress in at- taining two complete and separate editions daily—night and morning—1 although obliged to amalgamate them, settled down into twenty-four very American-looking columns, with their full dispatches, ‘This tendency, however, reaches its full strength only in the Matin, the most American of all the Paris dailies. The Yankee Matin. The Matin fs frankly “Yankee, persist in saying over here. It Is tireles in declaring that its founders “borrowe their principal qualities from la presse Americaine, conclliating them with the s cial taste of the French public, alway amoureux de beau style et de methode. Reporting is its great atfair—reporting with a literary smirk, a bit didactic also—it is in the atmosphere and cannot be avoided— and its other glory is the telegraphic ser- vice. The Matin was the first Paris dail: to use special wires; one of its first bea’ was the assassination of Stambouloff, at Sofla; and, more recently, it was the only morning paper to record the sudden death of Prince Lobanoff, taking ‘place, as it did, the night before at a late hour, in an ob- scure railway station on the Austrian-Rus- sian frontier. To Farnish the News. The Eclair 1s another morning paper along thes Mnes. “For too long a time in France,” its thesis runs, “the newspaper has given its readers ready-made opinions. It sought to relleve them of the task of thinking; it thought for them. But the practice of universal suffrage and the inde- pendence of action which distinguishes modern life call on each one of us to use his owa free judgment. ‘The fortune of the Hclair—born of a study of American ideals— is founded in this new conception of the aay, of modern journalism; it imposes only 2 Wh ‘acts upon its readers. Inthe program of oe gotld Mrs.Davis, carelesslyy:'‘I-} such, a journal everything must ve sacri- should say like almost. ¢hy old clodhopping- | ficed to ‘I'information;’ that 1s to say, re- looking farmer—onevef thé kind, you know, | porting. Who is better able to inform the who patronizes theigold-brick industry and | reader than the actors in aifairs them- blows out the gas. «© | selves? ‘The Eclair seeks only to put the The curtain went up on the next act then, | personages and their circumstances in view and Mr. Wiistach’ sat in silent and de-| and allow them to speak for thelr own ac. pressed pain, and no one in all that box | count. In this way all the world Lecomes perty had a tender word of sympathy for | the editor of the Belair, and it becomes a im. tribute accessible to all the world!” Brave words! When you have been complimented—or When you think you have been compliment- ed—once, about the best thing to do about it is to let it go at that and not try to make a serial story of it. Paul Wilstach of the Columbia Theater staff was taught this at one time in his life. Mr. Wilstach was entertaining a the- atrical friend and his wife—two persons whose latest venture had led them into the southwest. One day in the course of the visit Mr. Wilstach and the masculine guest —ca!l him Mr. Davis for short—were con- yersing about famous western characters. The talk touched upon Frank James. “I know Frank James yery well,” said Mr. Davis. e's quite a fellow, as you ps know. es, I rather imagine he must be con- sidered ae one of the stars of southwestern life,” said Wilstach admiringly. “It must be a great thing to be a famous man even if your fame is of a peculiar sort. By the way, I don’t remember ever having seen a picture ef Frank James. What does he look like, anyway?” “Well, do you krow,” Mr. Davis replied, “I don’t believe I ever saw one man who resembled ancther so closely as you your- self resemble him. I have noticed it fre- quently and have intended to speak to you about it.” Mr. Wilstach was delighted. To be the double of a man known probably ail over the continent was some distinction. But he could not be content to rest in his delight. He must press‘the limit of it. He wanted other people'to know about it. For of what use 1s it to look like a famed char- acter unless the fact is gencrally known? There was to be a theater party of friends of the Wilstach’s and Davises that night, and before the patty: ‘had reached their bexes the proud Mr Wilstach had succeed- ed in conveying the story of his resem- blance to all the membérs, with the excep- tion of Mrs. Davis, wife of the man who kad originally told him of it. Watching his chance when he was sure of attention of all his friends, Wilstach said: “Oh, Mrs. Davis, you know Frank James, the eminent western ex-bandit,! rather well, do you not?" Mrs. Davis eonceded that she did. “Tell me what sort of a looking inan he is? Whom would’ you say he resembles?” ' | 2+ —_____ Bringing the Men to Terms. From the Chicago Post. The revolutionary character of such a The car was crowded when-the two| Manifesto is best realized by a glance at women entered, and several men were al- | One of the opinion makers, one of the good ready standing up However, that did rot | Shepherds, the reliable and solemn Temps, seem to worry the women. They were well |" evening paper for Parisians, but the dressed and pretty, and a combination: of | 8Teat morning monitor of republican that sort will secure a seat almost any| France. As every fact it publishes re- time. ceives exactly the right governmental tint But on this particular occasion every man | before submitted to the world, its title to in the ear appeared to be either tired or | “reliability” must have rather a technicai preoccupied. At any rate, none of them Shankinersel meaning. It is the Bose of oved or betrayed thi % the Temps—in a recent summing up of the moved oF betrayed’ the slightest inclination |e. gens 1a chance nets aomane Ee se similis sui! “As a political journal it has The two women stood by the door first, | struggled against all anti-patriotic mani- smiling in that calm, confident way that} festations; against the understanding of women do when they feel that things are | revolutionary socialism with the radical bound to come their way. They smiled{ party, in power during the few early upon every man in their immediate vicin- ] months of the year; against the attacks on ity in turn, but there was no appreciable | the senate; and against the progressive effect. Not a man moved; in fact, not a|income tax project of the Minister Bour- man even looked up to get either of the | geoise.” smiles. Its very antithesis, the Intransigeant of One of the women moved down to the} Henri Rochefort, is actuated by the very center of the car. The smile was gone now, | same spirit, the only difference being in a and a cold, hard, haughty look had settled | different understanding of the true, the down on her face. good and the beautiful. “The Intransi- “Come down here,” she said to the other. | geant is the organ of the weak, the disin- “The floor is a little softer.” herited, the oppressed and the humble. The little bald-headed man in the far|* * * It is thus that at the moment when corner was seen to smile behind his paper, | the Carmaux strike seemed to be termi- but that was the only sign that the shot | nating because of the discouragement of had hit anywhere. the glass-workers, Rochefort, by handing “After all,” said the woman who had first | over to them 100,000 francs in a lump, put spoken, determined not to be baffled, “it is | into his hands by a generous sympathizer, proper that men should have the seats in a | Mme. Dembour, agsured them victory, and ear.” the founding of the Workingmen’s Glass Her companion looked surprised. Works of Albi.” And— “Do you really think so?” she asked. “Often an article by Henri Rochefort has “Oh, yes. Not all men, of course, but | exercised a decisive influence of the most those who usually get them and hold them. | important events; and more than once the It 1s really quite fitting and proper. Why, | attitude of the Intransigeant has com- you must have noticed that the men who | pletely modified the political situation.” object to having to stand around for women | Undoubtedly, this is still the French—and in_a street car’— European—ideal of a daily paper; and the She paused to see that she had the at-|tentatives of the Hclair and the Matin, tention of most of the veople in the car] however brilliant and successful, are only and to make her remark a little more em- | emerging from the category of experiments into that of settled practice. It is in the “——are the ones who have to stand | fact that the old-fashioned journals have around for women when they are at home.” | been forced In competition to take on this “Madam,” said elght men at once, “won't | or that special feature of Matin and Eclair you take this seat?” journalism that the promise of the future Opinion Makers. ——_—_+e-+ Nes for “news.” Today the theatrical Beaten, critic finds it = aes his duty to describe the costumes of the actresses, even to the From the Detroit Journal. point of interviewing Doucet, Carlier or “Those traders look very weather-| Felix, as to estimate the wit of the dia- beaten?” logue and the novelty of the plot and sit- uations. Perhaps it is in this grand reportage that the tendency is most marked. ‘The other savage frowned gloomily. “An optical illusion; I fancy,” he re- jcined. “They are pretty hard to beat.” According to the French mania for class- There was a suggestion of pique in his | ification, all the diverse features of a manner, and he nervously fingered the | morning paper are given their proper brass watch he vtaken in barter for | names and importance. There is, first, the three and a half tons, of ivory and two | directeur, oftenest the owner or represen- bushels of gold dug}. 3 tative of the controlling share holders; he From Harper's Bazar. “The t charming young lady in Phil- a said the gallant Mr. Peale, apologize for hig bluntness. ‘Oh, you needn't say that,” she said 4 I am the most misera Her eyes ‘ilied with tears. Poor Mr. glad, but I am fearful he will ‘charming as you always are. sume way could not resist that he saw in the face Ah, had he not studied its every line. Perhaps, since her painter, he thovght that today she looked old. As a matter of fact, he knew she was twen: six. No one of the adm'red of that town ever had more adorers. She was said to be heartless, as.men and their women friends think this of women whom they admire much, and who may be rather disdainful. Buitors by the score had charged and re- treated; for more than her personal at- tractiveness was that of her being a great hetrers of Pennsylvania. But the personal for tse ak was blurring Mr. Peale’s ju want just this favor of you,” she went on; “to be here when hé comes in. He will not think that strange.” She looked at him fixedly. And he in | Ewaens ; - = = =a No Trousers to Be Seen at Lakewood, Only Golf Breeches, Stockings, Enormous, Thick-Soled Russet Brogans. Man With an No Cigars. No Cigarettes, but Every ™ nglish Pipe-0 | @ictates the policy of the paper. The re- dacteur en chef, however, is the tangible and visible “boss,” receiving inspiration from the directeur; and this he transmits to the classified departments: (1) the polit- ical service: (2) “the service of informa- tions;” (8) “the reportage:” (4) the feuille- ton; () the chronicle (chronique); and (6) the partie theatrale. The Real City Editor. But the map would still be incomplete without the “secretary de redaction,” the modestest and yet most useful worker, who begins his day by reading all the other dailies. He informs the redacteur en chef himself of likely facts for development; it is really he who starts out the reporters on each wild career; he supplies the bril- Mant writers of " chronique—unworldl crack-brained litterateurs and “instrument- ists of the verb"—with subjects: and it is he to whom all turn for names, dates, fig- ures and all other data. The Matin, always progressive, has had the bright idea to give this admirable sec- retaire u half page to himself. Under the rubric of “Third Edition, appearing at 7 o'clock a.m.,” he publishes a valuable re- sume, not only of the chief news in each other morning paper, but the argument of each prominent editorial. The value of such a page must lie, naturally, in its com- pleteness and permanency. One must be able to depend on it, to feei sure that, in buying the Matin, an epitome of the wkole Paris press will be spread before him, as an index for further selection and reading. Reporting. The reportage is made up of two distinct services in each principal Paris daily: There is the “great reporting,” charged with the handling of great events, like presidential trips, world-agitating catas- trophes, interviews and travel matter, and there ts the “little reporting,” given over to the “Faits-Diversiers”—“‘divers-facts- men.” These poor chaps, by the way, count for so little in a proud profession that they Ps make their es Parisiens” is made up of now a French word by adoption, and reporters only; it has at n them the advantage of unite e being all but agement of ihe Gaulois counts Jules Claretie, Paul Bourget Henri -Meilhac, Ludovie Halevy, Anatol France, Francisque Sarcey, Henri Fouquie’ to mention orly the most famous. Its pc- litical questions—being a royalist sheet- are treated by six men who have written for lack of a better designation of r gentility—among whom, best kno are Cornely, Louis Teste and Robegt Mite ell. For short stories and chronique there are men like Octave Mirbeau, Rene Maiz- ‘, Ernest Blum, Alexandre Hepp a mile Faguet. The army has its interests defended by the General du Barail, the marine by Admiral Dupont. Pure literaturc FACTS WITH POINTS. EVERY ONE OF THESE STATEMENTS ABSO- LUTELY TRUE. 61 Prospect street, Indian- ¥ me to write letely cured Dyspepsia, from which I had suf- fered for the last four years. T bad tried many remedies without results, but am now cared and have gained in flesh, p well and h none but words of praise for Stuart's Tablets. Mre. Sarah A. Skeels, Lynnvitte. lowa: it haw been six months since T took Stuart's Dyspepsia Tablets and am fally cored. Have not had a particle of distress or difficulty «ince. This is fo the face of the fact that I had suffered from stom- ach trouble for twenty-five and wes pro- . says: “Two art's Dyspepeia Tablets aid remedy Thad ever be was cured of dy weight afte works « A TRAMP IN LUCK, But He Was Only an Amateur and the Lady Soon Saw His Game. From the Detrott Free Press. Boely is a man who never had to work fcr a living, buf he’s always pursu seme frd, p indulging som. when friends we with smoke, he “Twenty hing caprice ome li The other nigh helping him fill his libra- id this one I read of years ag two rich by which they have been able | 7CUn& English ean eae Ps ramps xy whic! ey ve been able | 7 U2 a smaecoie : to overcome the various threaten’ in order to study the 5p ught “agencies for suppiying local new my fancy and I under sa expert- breaking up the business of reporting. | ment. A thotgand-~Mttte ts Driven to herd by themselves, the “report- | might be recalled, but there was se work bravely on, “intent on bringing | changed the whole current of me lk “flair” to their prose and enterprise to th Ono evening,.ghaptglusheT nou working day: each spurred on by the hope | the back se ah gene of winning, some time, that which is the | swered by a stately, noble looking greatest spur to the Parisian writer—the ye ey — ability to sign h Sic a mutuai love=the love of name al v of deep t public. And fruitless eff here that * as understood dae a by Freach journalism, shows itself. T was wondering if for example,” the lois, though two years before had ‘Temps, the Dei e such a state, while I was in- the Gil Blas, the Echo,a earth for not y evel s 1. swallow me the G ’ chronique, feuilleton and pi ‘py ae tie t outa splendid list of ia merry meal together, n name: : 2 girl turned up ber and. refused Noted Writers, point blank to wait on ‘sich a lookin’ erit- Among its regular essay writers the | tei “The face of my hostess beamed beca I was net the wreck she kad thought m I caught her on the rebound : cepted, long hair, unsheven face, ble cl hing and 1. he swee that she must have been mi ing I had m in she had n suspected in m “a know why she often calls me her dear old tramp.” —__—» jaintaining the Court’s Dignity. From the TaylorsrMe (Ky.) Couric Judge J. C. Wickliffe is fo: and although he never excr athlet now, is represented by Edouard Rod, and the | can tell of the days when he was a terror chepin, Armand Silvestre, Eamond | among the boys. The judge has been a pens oe cfc oak vigorous man in his time, and the story is mand and Lonis Legendre. ere is an q Sanicc cuca os artistic critic, a musical critic, a dramatic | '0!d of him that, while holliag circuit wos critic and an “exposer of foreign ideas,” | at Lebanon shortly after the war, there the latter being the Count Rzewuski. being a millitary garrison at that place cecupied by a regiment of Ohio troops, tS esi owes out twenty of these were drunk and on As evidences of this sort of literary ne the warpath and had collected in front of paper enterprise, the various featur of |] the courthouse and w making things last year they were “enriched”—the edi- | WiiS one and the Yankee sli pigs tor’s own word—by a new rubric, “Th World of. Literature,” under which are signaled and estimated all important new books. Its “Theatrical Chrericle,” handled by Francisque Sarcey himself, is made more important than—say—the cable news frcm the United States of America. To be exact, it is given more space in one day than the accumulated American cable- grams of a year. AS a newspaper the ‘Temps lacks only—news. STERLING HEILIG. ——— DRUNK WITHOUT DRINKING. The Old Man Found Out the Ad age of the Side Door System. From the Cleveland Leader. Recently there have been performed in this city two operations, which, if not con- sidered rare trom the standpoiat of a ph; sician, are at least considered interesting from the standpoint of the public, who takes grest enjoyment in hearing tales taken from the novel side of life. The first of these operations was perform- ed in one of the hospitals. An old man had a cancer in his aesophagus which grew to such dimensions that it was impossible for him to swallow his food. They cut into the left side of the abdomen, directly over the stomach, and succeeded in putting a tut into the patient’s stomach. Before this the man was slowly starving to death. The surgeons poured food down the tube and into the man’s stomach. He immediately began to gain strength, and within a few days he was able to sit up in bed. Within a week he was able to feed him- self without the aid of an attendant. Of course his every want was attended to, yet he did not require so much care as formerly. Part of the nourishment given the man was a little sherry. He soon became able to watch the clock, and at the proper mo- ment pour down the tube a quantity of the invigorating fluid, for it was that kind of fluid to him. His cleverness led to fnisfortune. The pa- tient had some friends who were more zeal- ous than wise. Sceing that he was allowed wine, they thought they were doing some- thing neighborly when they sent him two bottles of beer. The nurse at the hospital thought she would humor the old man, and she took the two bottles of beer to his bedside and then went about other duties. The old man surveyed the two bottles of beer for some time with a smile upon his face. Then he looked slyly around the room to see that no one was looking (he did not notice another patient lying in the opposite corner), and the next moment he had ar- ranged a new funnel in the tube, and, after taking another glance around the room, slowly poured the sherry out of the bottle into the tube. With a gleeful look upon his face he next proceeded t2 uncork the beer bottles. He slowly poured the contents of both botties into the tube and then rested quietly. Shortly after this there was a great noise heard in his room, and in rushed the at- tendants. The old man had an empty beer bottle in each hand, and he was challeng- ing imaginary enemies and the patient on the bed to meet him in fair and open con- flict. The surgeon appreciated the situation at once, and in stern tones commanded his patient to remain quiet. The patient liked the surgeon and at once became quiet. “What's the matter with you?” asked the surgeon, sternly. “Nuthin’s matter ’th me,” said the pa- tient, in a_highly hilarious manner. “Was'h th’ matter "th you? Sa’, more zat stuff. Whoop!” —_+ e+ —____ Canada’s Mother-in-Law. From Leslie’s Weekly. The late Monsignor Fabre, bishop of Montreal, was a thorough Gaul in tem- Perament and sympathies, and did not hesi- tate to express the latter in pungent bon mots, some of which have become legend- ary. Dining one day at the table of the gimme su’ time was of the bitterest type. Judge Wicklie ordered the sheriff to disperse the riotcus soldiers. The officers proceeded to execute the or- der; but they were unable to move the stubborn soldiery and so reporced to the judge. He at once adjourned court, walked coolly to where the crowd had collected, and ordered them to at once dispers which they still refused. The fudge wac into them in grand style, and in less time that it takes to tell it ae had eight of them lying on the pavement and the rest scamp- ering in every dire> It is sald the judge never leveled his arm on a man but he sent him to the grousd. g os Bass Violin Puzzied Him. From. Musical Anecdotes. The company of one of the opera house: at the close of a London season, had @ rived at Liverpool to embark for a contt- nental tour. The musical instruments were being shipped with the re: and among them was the double bass, or “big fidd as it is also called, not cased, as usual, this member of the string family will s a Mitte rough treatment. : It soon attracted the attention Jack tars, three or four of whom round seru’ a in By the order y soon dis persed, but afterward anothe ly watch- ing it with wondering eyes. He was asked his reason for standing thus idl “ “Well, yer know,” said Jack, m just waiting for to see the length of the bloke's arm that can play that there fiddle. > Where He Worked. From Tid-Bits. Applicant—“No, I didn't wages where I was last.” Business Man—"Were you discharced?” Applicant—“Yes, sir; I expected to be there five years, but they discharged me at of the not long bluff seaman was discovere get no fixed the end of three years and nine months for bein’ good.” Business Man—“That’s strange. Where did you work Applicant—“In prisom. The old- fashioned savings- bank was often @ stocking hid in the chim. ney, but now. a-days people who want safety put their money behind burglar-and fire- proof walls. A wo- man who thinks her life and health is worth saving won't tisk it with incom. petent persons. If ghe has any disease or weakness incident ta T sex, she obtains the services of an edu. tated, experienced physician. One of the most eminent of Siving spe- clalists in women’s diseases is Dr. R. V. Pierce, of Buffalo, N. Y., chief consulting physician of the famous Invalids’ Hotel and Surgical Institute, of that city. He has devoted a life time to the study and cure of femitine disorders. His ‘Favorite Pre- scription ” is the most perfect eure for such complaints ever known. It isthe only truly scientific remedy which teaches the inner source of trouble and See ed heals, strengthens and tones both the special or- gans and the entire nervous system. It is the only medicine for women, invented a regularly graduated physician, a skill and experienced practitioner. compounded byan Purst or any other unskilled, unscientific experimenter. . The SG sade paca ‘Sense Medical governor general of the dominion, he re-| Adviser a thousand. volume prepared ferred in course of conversation to “France, Dr. Pierce and his staff of i our mother.” “France, your mother!” over thi hundred engravi broke in the governor; “what, then, is Eng. colored Plates (real 8 medical cyclopedia land to" ‘you?” The bishop smilingly | §m one volume), will be sent Paper. bound shrugged his shoulders and replied: “Our| absolutely free on receipt of twenty-one mother-in-law. cents in one-cent stamps to pay cost of —— —cee—____ mailing only. Address, World's Dipes- No Mistaking the Likeness. sary Association, No. 663 Main eee ig Buffalo, N.Y, If French cloth. Photographer—“¥our son ordered pound embossed i se keness trom me. Gost only of this hendeosa einai certainly very much like him. Has he paid for it?” * Father— is sti’ more lke him.”