Evening Star Newspaper, March 13, 1897, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 13, 1897—24 PAGES. — Written for The Evening Star. Continued from last Saturday's Star.) Chapter XXXII. It was Barney's hebit, now that money flowed fn upon him, to deal Mberally with his cabmen. He wuld hand to the man two or three sovereigns, or even a five- pound note if there happened to be one loose in his waistcoat pocket, and say to him Now, I may need you only twenty min- utes, or I may need you all the afternoon, but I want you to feel happy while you're driving me, don’t you know, so here's all I'm going to give you, and I wish to have no dispute about fares at the end of the jou: There never was any dispute, and Barney Was extremely popular with the driving fraternity When ihe date of the wedding was fixed, Barney, on his return to London, took a pounds in honor of the forth- vent. He said to himself that he give less and retain his self-re- as he intended using the cab in com- ting the necessary arrangements for the He drove first to the residence of the clergyman who was in charge of St. Martyrs-in-the-East, for he had determined that the marriage should take place in this h, was the nearest sacred building to his father’s works, and was sur- inded by a population largely in the em- of the firm, directly or indirectly. Be- des this, Barney took a particular delight in the thought that all the newspapers would be compeled to send representatives to this unfashionable locality, for the wed- ding would be “a notable one, and he was famous that should he marry or in the most unknown spot in the Brit- cab at te ming couldn't spect because it now doing so would forever be- st on on the place. P enial old clergyman was undeniably i by the fact that so celebrated a St. Martyrs for such an import- “J shall two to assist you, and lesser dignitaries. If you give me the names of any you If into communica- perhaps 4 will j prefer. I with the You mean of course, that I shall assist the bishop,” protested the reverend nitle- ma “His lordship, as, of course yor takes precedence.” vou'll arrange among yourselves. i don't understand these mat- ters. you know, I was never married be- fore. and fk every detail in the hands of those experienced. What I wish is to everything well done, regardless of If you will allow me, I would end you a check for a thousand to be distributed among the poor, know. and that sort of thing, in ie occasion. I suppose it can be all be very grateful, indeed, for A plethgra of money has never been » of the obstacles with which we have ontend in this parish.” n that’s all right. Now, have you your organist latel What's his It has slipped my memory for the 1 am sorry to say he has not 4il well lately. Not ill, exactly, for he has been able to attend to his duti but still far from well. I think he needs some one to look after him. He is an ab- minded man—a dreamer—and I fear he eglects himself.” “| have tried to help him,” said Barney, mat “but he shrinks from assistance of any kind as if it were infectious. He never will call en me, and I have had so many demands on my time lately that I have not looked him up, as I intended to do. Could you give me his address? I had it once, but fd it. : ives In wretched quarters—No. 3 rden court, off Light street. 1 he would like you to call upon aki be better to write. It is very ed him, on ot well, T could see that -omposed him.” d to speak to you about helping -tly. You all appreciate his abil- hearing my prese: 1 wan him indir ities of course “Oh, yes.” “And yet, as you say, you are not a rich parish. Now here is a check for a hundred pounds. | would make it more, but that would arouse his suspicion, very likely. Wonld you take this, and Increase his sala- ry ar at the that much yearly?—1 will send a heek once a year—and put !t to him crease is because of the general admiration there is felt for—well, you know what | mean. So that he will be encour- n't you know.” generous of you, Mr. Hope. e that your wishes are car- the interview with the kindly vicar was finished Barney jumped into his han- drove to Light street. It was im- possible to take the cab into Rose Garden court f the so Barney umerous stairs curing as a guide one ragged urchins who place, made his way up the and knocked at Langly’s ty door. A faint voice from within told him > enter » going in Barney saw the rganist sitting on the bed. Langly had tly at been lying down, and now, with fficulty, sat up to greet his un- visitor. Thin as he had Barr w him last, notice expe: wher thi he was still r now, and a ghastly pallor over- spread his face. I say, old man!” cried Barney, stopping ort. “You're not looking first-rate, don't you know. Have you been tll?” Uve not been well, but I'm better now, thank you.” replied Langly, a shadow that would have been a flush in a healthy m: coming over his cheeks. Clearly he did not ke the intrusion: and Barney, remember- ing the viear's words, saw that. Now. Langly.” he said, “you mustn't ind my coming In this unceremontous . because I'm here to beg a great favor y I'm the most dependent man on my friends that there ts In all London—I am, for a fact. It seems to me I spend al my time getting other fellows to do things for me, and they do them, too, by Jove! in the most kindiy way. This is a very ac- “Any pair of fools can be married to Mendelssohn.” commodating, indulgent world, don't you know. Now you just lie down again—I see Yve disturbed you—I'm always disturbing somebody—and let me talk to you like a favorite um I'm going to be married, L.angly!—what do you think of that? And ru bet you @ sixpence you can't tell wher: Langly, who still sat om the edge of his been | THE MUTABLE MANY, fi We oe, S| bed, ignoring Barney's command, smiled wanly ard shook his head. “I kaew you couldn't. Well, the cere- mony 1s to be performed with great eclat as the papers say, at St. Martyrs-in-the- East. First time old St. Marts has ever seen a fashionable wedding, I venture to say. I have just been to see the vicar, ar- ranging all the details. What a nice old man h2 is!—and I say, Langly, you ought to have heard him praise you and your music! It’s very pleasing to be appreciat- | ed—I like it myself.” Langly, in spite of his pallor, actually | blushed at this, but said nothing. “Now, that brings us to the music on the wedding day—and that’s why I'm here. You will play the organ, of course.” “JT shall do my best,” murmured Langly. “There is nothing better than that. But here is what I want, and I know it’s a great favor I'm asking. I want you to compose a wedding march for us. I'll have it published afterward, and I know, when you see the bride, you won't need | any begging from me to get you to dedi-| cate it to her.” i'm afraid——" began the organist. “Oh, no, you're not,” interrupted [sarne: ‘ou are such a modest fellow, Langl: I knew you'd be full of excuses not going to let you off. I've set my heart on having a special wedding march. pair of fools can be married t sohn, don’t you know; but we {soft beginning, breathless fear at his shaking hands ho- vering over the keys; but when he touched them he heard the sweet, pure, liquid, low notes come firm and sustained, like tones from @ mellow flute, and his whole being thrilled when he became conscious of the instantaneous hush that fell on the vast assemblage, as though all had stmultane- ously ceased to breathe, fearing to miss a single golden thread of melody, or the en- chanting mingling of them into the dl- vinest, most subdued harmony, as if a choir of nightingales were singing far off, almost, but not quite, beyond hearing dis- tance. When the music, swelling from its rose toward its climax, Langly knew he was master of the instru- ment as he had never been before. All fear left him, and a wild exultation took its place. It mattered nothing whether one or a thousand listened. As he gazed upward, with rapt ecstatic face, it seemed to him that the sounds took the form of an innumerable host of angels, fiying about the beetling cliff of pipes that towered above him, and his own sould floated there also. Marveling at this aerial vision, he yet played with his almost miraculous skill to the end; and as the last notes died away he saw the angels drop their wings one by one and fade into the empty air. He pushed in the stop that shut off the bel- lows motor, and for a moment his nerve~ less fingers touched the silent manual from which the breath of life had depart- ed. A mist lowered before his eyes, his head sank slowly forward, and Death pil- lowed it gently on the soundless keys. Chapter XXXHI. The building erected on the site of the wing destroyed by fire was larger than the one it replaced, and its plan was so well thought out that its convenience far ex- celled that of its companion factory, and increased the output of the firm by a much greater preportion than its greater size seemed to warrant. “All we need now,” said Sartwell to little Mr. Hope, “is the other wing to burn down; then we covld have a model establish- ment.’ 4 Mr. Hope looked up at Sartwell in alarm, as if he expected to see his manager epply the torch to the old building. He never NO. MY WEAKNESS IS Gi thing all our own. It isn't as if a fellow were married every day, you kno “I was going to say that I feel hardly equal—I don’t think I could do justice— but there is a march I composed about a year ago—it has never been played cr heard of by any one but myself. If you liked it——" “Of course very thing.” “i would compose one for you, but I am sure I could do nothing so good as that, and I want to give you my hes’ | I'm sure you do. So that’s all settled. | Now, Langly, here comes the uncle talk. | I told you I was going to talk to you like | ar uncle, you know. You must get out | of this hole, and you must get out now. | It's enough to kill the strongest man to | I'll like it. That will be the | stay in this place. I've got a hanxom wait- | ing in the street; so come with ine, and we will look up a decent pair of rooms | with a motherly old woman to look aiter Langly was plainly embarrassed. At lest he stammered: } I can’t afford a better place than this. 1 know it may not seem very comfortable to you, but it’s all I really need. “Afford it. Of course you can afford a better place. Oh, I had forgotten. ‘They haven't told you, then?” “Told me what?" “Well, I don’t know that I should men- tion it. The fact is (it all came out quite ineldentally when I was talking to the viear—I told you he was saying rice things about you), I imagine they‘re preparing a little surprise for you; so never say 1 spoke of it, but I don't like surprises m self. I always tell the boys that if they've any surprises for me, to let me know in advance, so that I may prepare the proper | expression. What I don’t like about a surprise is to have it sprung on me with- out being told of {t beforehand. Well, as I said, 1 shouldn't mention this, but’ the church wardens and the vicar and a num- ber of the parishioners have recolved to m- crease your salary by one hundred pounds @ year. I was very glad to hear it, and I said so. ‘To show our appreciation of his music,’ were the exact words of the Ficar, Splendid old chap, the vicar—1 lke im. Barney walked up and down tne room 23 he talked, never glancing at his listener. Langly’s eyes filled with tears: he tried te speak, but he could not. Then he lay dewn on the bed and buried his face in the pillow. His visitor chattered on, pac- ing to and fro, taking no notice of the other's emotion, until Langly, recovering himself, said gratefully: It is very, very good of them. They have always been exceedingly kind to i ne. ‘Oh, it’s merely a matter of business. They don‘t want some other church to lure you away. Trust a church ward He's always up you ri Brace up, old man, and come along Faintly protesting, but in his weakness makirg no resistance, Langly staggered down to Light street, leaning on Barney's arm. In about half an hour a comfortable eomicile was found near the church, and a porter was sent back to Rose Gardea court to fetch the musician's belongings. The wedding ceremony was pill that the best friends uf the happy pair could wish. Never had old St. Martyrs seen such a brilliant assemblage. The splendid wedding march was a triumph, filling the resonant church with its jubilant, entrancing har. monies, and it was played as no march bad ever been played before. Barney stole a moment or two, while friends were pressing around the bride, and drew Betson, the chief press man present, into a corner. ow Betson,” he said, “you heard that music?” “It was glorious!" replied the journalist. “Of course {t was, and prepared Specially for this occasion, remember. You may abuse me in the papers, if you like, Be son; if there's anything wrong—although I don’t think there fs—lay the blame on me; but one thing I beg of you, and please tell the other fellows this, won't you? give a line or two of deserved praise to the organist and the music. Do, if you love me, Betson! The man’s a genius!—I'm not the only one who says so, although 1 was the first to recognize the fact. You'll put in something nice about him, won't you? and give the others the tip to do the same. then I can do a but remember he's very shy, and if he suspects your purpose you won't get anything out of him. He's a recluse. Talk to him about organs and music, and let him think you're merely a feliow enthusiast.” “Never fear. I'll manage him.” For a week Langly had feared he would not be equal to the ordeal that faced him. He was anxious, for Barney's sake, to ac- quit himsif well; but he was scarcely able to totter to. the church and back to his rooms, although, when once seated before the banks of keys, renewed life seemed to animate his emaciated frame; but when the enthusiasm of playing passed away he was left more deeply depressed than ever. Music was now a stimulant to him, and the longer the intoxication of sound lasted the greater the reaction after. His wtole frame trembled when he saw bow large an audience was to listen on the wedding day, and he prayed that strength might be given him to perform his part flawlessly. When at last the su- preme moment came he looked with \ they know It. BBONS AND HIS GANG. quite fathomed Sartwell’s somewhat grim style of humor. The four houses that had been leased, to form a temporary annex to the works during the erection of the new wing, were kept on, and never In the long history of the firm was so much profitable business done nor so large a dividend declared as during the months that followed the com- pletion of the new building. The firm had good cause to be grateful to its manager. Both Monkton and Hope recognized that their constantly increasing prosperity was due to this resolute, self-reliant man, and they rewarded him as capitalists usually reward those who serve them well. Not only was his already large salary increased, without any demand on his part, but, when the business was formed Into a private limited-liability company, they allotted him a block of stock of the nominal value of a thousand pounds, the income from which, should the welfare of the company con- tnue at its then level, would be sufficient to make Sartwell independent for life; and at tie first meeting of the new board he was made managing director. This meeting took place a little more than a year after the new wing had been open- ed, and Sartwell, addressing his fellow directors, said: “I am not good at returning thanks—by words, at least; but, as you know, I shall try to make the stock you have given me a good investment for the new company. It might seem, under the circumstances, that I ought to be well content; yet human nature ts herd to satisfy, and I am about to ask for further powers. I want an un- cerstanding that I am to have a free hand | in case we should have another strike. I also want the power of increasing the wages of the men—not to exceed, say, 10 per cent—at any time, without the neces- sity of consulting the board. “Why?” asked Moykton. be convered at any moment.” “AS a matter of fact it cannot. By your articles of association there must be seven days’ clear notice, and the object of the meeting must be stated when the call is made. Now, it may become necessary to act at once, and I want the power to do he board can there is no Said Mr. Hope anxiously. men had such a severe leeson—" “A lesson lasts the workingman just so long as his belly ‘s empty, and rarely in- fluences him after his first full meal. The unton 1s already working up to a demand for increased wages. Times are good, and We must face an increase danger of another “The of wages, and I want that increase to come voluntarily from the company, and not under compulsion. You may depend upon me to do nothing rash, but I want the power to announce such increase at any moment.” The power to act promptly was given him, and he was assured that, in the event of another strike, the whole strength of the company would be behind him, but he was besought by Mr. Hope to avold trouble if It were possible to do 80. After the meeting Sartwell went down to Eastbourne, and, with his daughter, took a long walk on the breezy downs. “Well, girlie,” ie said, after telling her of the firm's generosity, “you are an hetr- ess now on a small scale. I have made over that thousand pounds to you, and, as it is really worth ten thousand, I think it is a good deal of money for a little girl like you to accumulate before she comes of age. “But I'm not going to accept it, father!” cried Edna; “I'll make it all over to you again.” “Then we shall play battledore and shut- tlecock with the stock. I generally have my own way, Edna, so you may as, well give ir gracefully to the inevitable’ Be- sides, this comes as a sort of windfall; I didn’t reckon on it, so you don’t leave me A perny poorer ¢ I was a month ago. I've laid by a bit of money in my time, and have at last got rid of a fear that has haunted me all my life—the fear of a pov- erty-stricken old age. That's why I draw such deep, satisfying breaths of this splen- did air from the sea. Gray hair came, Ed- na, before the goal was in sight, but it’s in sight now, my girl.” “I'm so glad, father,” she said, drawing down his head and kissing him. “Then you will take the windfall, Edna?” “I will take it on one condition, father.” nd what is the one condition?” “That if I ever do anything you disap- prove of you will let me give it back to you.” The girl was gazing @ar out at the line where the blue sky and the bluer sea met. Her father glanced at her sharply; for a moment. “Put into English, what does that mean, Edna “You never can tell what a woman will do, you know.” “Granted, my Gear. But you're not a woman; you're merely my little girl.” The little girl sighed. “I feel very much grown up, and very old sometimes.” “Oh, we all do at teen. Walt cll you're forty; then you know what real youth ts, If you were a boy now, instead of being a@ girl, you would have serious doubts about the existence of the Deity and the most gloomy ideas regarding man- ie oenewalls- atid should I disapprove of anything you we “Oh, 1 don't know. Mother always pre- dicts that our stubborn wills will cross Bie See Ls, course, course. x ets shall arise. Don’t !et that trouble you, Edna. If our wills become sertously op- pesed we will come here io the downs and talk it alavyer. I'l warrant we'll hit on a compromise,¢ “But suppgse a compromise were not pos- le?” ‘Dear mye;;Edne, what's on your mind? You are- in generalities and think- ing tn qulars. What is it, my girl?’ Edna her head. “I don’t, why it is,” she said at last, “but I feel afraid of the future. It seems so tfnortain, and I should never like anything to come between us.” “Nonsense, Edna. What should come be- tween us?, All that is merely a little touch of the pessimtsm of youth, accentuated by the dolefiil fact that you are now a wo- mar. of itdependent means. Suppose our stubborn wills come into coilision, as you fear, do ypu know what will happen?” “What? “Well—if's,an awful thing for a father to say to @ daughter—bul ill give way. Think of that! What a humiliating con- fession for me to make!—a man who has refused to badge an inch before the united demands of some hundreds of men, back- ed by the pathetic entreaties of my own employers. If that isn’t a victory for a small girl, what is?” “Oh, no,” cried Edna, ler eyes quickly filling. “I'll give way—I'll give way—even if it breaks my heart. Her father stopped in his walk and grasped her by the shoulders. The girl's head drooped and che put one hand over her eyes. “Ah, Edna, Edna, there's something at the back of all this; i won't ask you what it is, my pet, but some day you'll tell me, perhaps.” He drew her to is breast, and, pushing aside hat, caressei her fair hair lov- ingly. “If your mother were alive, dear- est, we—well, there is little use of cither grieving or wishing. We must make the best of things as they are. But don't bother about the stubborn wills, Hdna; we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. You sce, we are both competing to see who shall give way first, and ther. noth- ing very stubborn about that. Now, my girl, I've disarranged that pri hat, and a stranger who didn’t know night think you had been crying. This will never Jo. Let us taik sensibly, for I imagine that before long I'll have all the fighting I need to keep me in: form without having a con- do you mean, f: “Oh, there's the usual ferment amonz the men. They are seething and foaming and vaporing, and I feel it in my bones that we'll have another strike before long.” “Led by Mr. Marsten ‘By him, of course. But I'll beat him. I'll crumple him up so that he will wonder why he ever started the fight. It’s a pity to see him waste his energy and his brains in a hopeless struggle. He’s clever and in- defatigable, but a visionary and an en- thusiast, and when he stops dreaming of impossibilities he will be a most valuable ma “What impossibilities, father?” asked the girl, almost in a whisper, gazing at the ground, “The impossibility of men hanging to- wether on any one s' abject for more than a Week. ‘The impossibility of warding off treachery within the ranks. The impossi- bility of ng down the jealousy which | they always toward a man who is their evident superior in education and ability. Howe he got them, Marsten has the manner and instincts of a gentleman. The men are not going to stand that sort of thing, you know, and they will fail him when it comes to a pinch.”” “If you think so well of him, why don’t you offer him a good position in the works and let him turn his ability toward help- ing you?” “My dear girl, you hav ed one of the cards that is up my sleeve. [ intend to make Marsten my assistant manager—but not now. He will be a valuable man when he awakes, but not while he is dreaming. He must hé taught his lesson first, and only hard knocks can teach him that. The hoy thinks he is going to be a leader of men, whegwas he is merely serving his ap- prenticeship to become assistant manager of Monkton ’& Hope, Limited. “But suppese he succeeds? Suppose the fext strike does not fail? The men held together more than a week last time.” “That was ‘because they were led by a demagogué ‘bf like caliber to themselves. There is @ iarge faction among them who hate Marsten, and Gibbons is their leader. I have fought Gibbons, beaten him, in- sulted hint\"trampled him under foot, yet, today, Gtbbons leathes Marsten while he respects me, as such. a man always re- spects ong who has knocked him down. ‘ow you will be surprised to hear that I have takeh ‘Gibbons into my employ, and am giving hit better wages than he ever received in hjs life beforg.., More than that, when he recommenda a man, I promote that man, and it is getting to be generally understood that Gibbons has much influ- ence with the manager. . This strengthens his hold on his ‘faction.” “And what will be the result?” “That we cannot tell, but {t is always good politics to promote a split in the ranks of the enemy. I am playing a game, and I move the pawns about to sult my board. There is a sharp line now cleft between the two factions, and the gap will widen as soon as the trouble begins. Gibbons will likely go out with his crowd if a strike is ordered; but they will be a source of weak- ness rather than of strength to Marsten, and the moment he makes a false move— which he is reasonably certain to make, not being infallible—there will be a defec- tion.” ‘Have you a secret understanding with ibbons, then “Oh, bless you, no. One doesn’t have a discussion on moves with a pawn. The pawn produces certain effects merely be- cause it is placed in a given position, and not through any will of its own. Now Marsten is quite well aware of Gibbons’ supposed influence with me, and will likely commit the error of thinking I have some arrangement with the ex-secretary. In the heat of a discussion he may give voice to his belief, and that will be an error, for no man is so righteously indignant at’ such a charge as the virtuous individual who would have sold himself if he could. It’s going to be an interesting struggle, Edna.” “Poor Marsten,” sighed the girl. “Yes, I am sorry for Marsten myself, but the lesson will do him a world of good. He is thoroughly unselfish, and Gibbons is as thoroughly selfish. The unselfish man al- most invariably goes to the wall in this self-seeking world. Now let us get back, my girl. I think your old father has set- tled the whole universe to his satisfaction, so there's no more to be sai Chapter XXXIV. The year’s work had been most encour- aging to Marsten. He had come to a cor- dial understanding with many of the unions, not only at home, but in America and the colonies, and had formed an act- ive alliance with several societies of work- ingmen in the United Kingdom. Times were good, business brisk, and compara- tively few men were out of employment. All this inspired confidence in the success of a strike, for the demands of men are more certain to be lstened to with atten- tion when the market is rising than when it is falling. There would now be much difficulty in filling shops with competent hands, as employment was more general throughout the country than had been the case for years before. Marsten kad been secretary of the union for eighteen months before he made up ‘his mind to begin the contest. He resolved to make a démbind for a 10 per cent increase of wages all round, and, if tt were refused, to call outithe men at once. The commit- tee met in swcret session, and the demand was formulated. A gathering of the men was orderelefor Saturday night, but the subject to be discussed was not stated. Marsten impressed on his committee the necessity for secrecy, although Gibbons, who was one of the members, said he falled to see the object of this, as their desire was to objgin the Increase, and that desire caulé not {tained except openly. How- ever, he Sided, Marstén was conducting the cam and it was but right he should be, ed to ‘conduct it in his own way: t itobons merely stated his objection, \ig® dtd not tustst upon it. & dep was appointed to seek an interview. the directors and make the di idgn_ Saturday afternoon. After their cong they were to draw up a r to at_ to the meeting of the = 3 On ‘twell gathered his em- ployes” and ‘anhounced to them that, In vieW of the state of business, the conc pbny had voluntarily come to the con- cl ‘that an: increase of wages to the extent of 10 per it should be given, add- ing that, he hoped the amicable relations betwegn jemplo; and employed at the worka would continue. This ~an- nounce! it was Béceived with cheers, and the wi rs, wha knew nothing of the meeting g, the committce, dispersed, well satisfied With the outlook. t rascgeatate ‘t@ countermand the gath- Saturday night, and when it. took same inkling of what had pened Was spread abroad, the gen- eral opinion being that in some way Mar- sten had been too clever by half, and had met with an une; ted check. The young man, however, faced the meet- ing in good fettle, and congratulated them on the increase offered. The men were in jubilant humor, and they cheered every- thing that was said with the utmest im- partiality. Marsten told them frankly why the meeting had been called, and he ex- ulted in the fact that the recent unex- ected turn of events had made any dis- cussion unnecessary. “I have heard it hinted,” he continued, “that I have been outgeneraled by Mr. Sartwell, but we can stand a lot of beating on these lines. Mr. Sartwell is evidently afraid of the union now. If the mere ru- mor that we were about to make a demand induces so stiffnecked a man as the man- ager to capitulate before a gun is fired, it goes to show the tremendous influence we‘ can wield by all standing firmly together. It is said that the misplacing of a comma in an act of parliament once cost the coun try a hundred thgusand pounds. The on word “now,” spoken quite unthinkingly by Marsten, made Gibbons grind his teeth in helpless rage. He saw Marsten triumphant and his own administration discredited. He determined to make that small word of three letters cost Marsten dear, if an oppertunity of upsetting the confident young man offered itself. However, Gib- bons said nothing, and the meeting dis- persed with cheers, Sartwell had no delusion tegarding th= advance he had made the men. He knew he had merely postpened the fight, but he wanted to be in a position to show the directors that he had done everything pos- sible to avoid a conflict. Six months later Sartwell called the directors together. “I desire to place before you,” he said, “certain information I have received. There is reason to believe that a further demand of 10 per cent will be made. If you are going to grant it, I would like to know; if we are going to make a stand, I would like to know. I will then arrange my plans accordingly ° “If we grant it.” said Mr. Hope, “what do you think will be the result? Will it avert trouble, or will it be made the basis of fresh exactions? We cannot go on mak- ing concessions indefinitely.” “Giving the increase will probably post- pone the trouble for another six months. I am certain that Marsten wants to force on a fight; he has been preparing for more than two years. What I want to impress on you is that the struggle, when it comes, is going to be a severe one, and if you en- ter upon it you must do so with your eyes open, resolved to fight it to the very end. You may go on conceding until wages are doubled, and every fresh concession will merely make an ultimate fight the more inevitable.” “Then you think we had better make a stand now?” “Yes; if, having made the stand, you refuse to capitulate on any term: “But if we find, when the strike has Jasted a few weeks, that we cannot hold out, it would be folly to continue.” exactly. You know your own resources, 1 I know the resources of the men. You are, therefore, in as good a position to make up your minds now as two weeks hence, or a month, or a year. If we enter into a contest we must win, or I must re- sign.” It is a most perplexing situation,” sighed Mr. Hop “Oh, the situation is simple enough. You either give in or you don’t. Which is it?” “What are the chances of filling the works with new men, should it prove im- possible to come to terms with our present employes? “They are not so good as they wer could do it gradually, but it would be s time before we were in full force again. “That would mean the refusal of new orders, and perhaps the canceling of many now on hand.’ “Undoubtedly. That is the cost of war st face it if we fight. We might be for six months to come.” That is very serious. Is no compromi: Could you not confer with Mar- sten and find out what he wants?” “I know what he wants. And you think compromise impossible?” Frankly, I do.” ‘Have you the same objection to mee Marsten that you had to meeting Gib- bons?” “As a matter of principle, I object to dis- cussing our business with any outsider. Marsten has never raised that point. When it was necessary to confer with me he al- ways sent a deputation of our own men. He is a much more dangerous opponent than Gibbons was.” “Would you be willing, then, in the in- terests of peace, to arrange a conference with Marsten, talk the maucr over and come to an understanding, if that be pos- sible?” “Yes. I will send for him at once, but I don’t think it will be of the slightest use, and it forms a bad precedent.” It was unanimously agreed that such an action on Sartwell’s part would strengthen his hands, and that the fight, if it proved Inevitable, could be gone into with greater spirit when all knew that everything pos- sible had been done to avoid hostilities. Sartwell invited Mar3tea to meet him at his office at 7 o'clock in the evening. When the young man entered his first words were: “You told me I was not to set foot in this office unless I was ordered to do so; I must apologize, therefore, for coming on a mere invitation.” “Ah, you haven't forgotten that yet!" said Sartwell, with a laugh. eet eu do forget, apparently, that you were here on invitazion before—during the strike, you know.” “Yes, so I was. “Now, Marsten, to begin with, have you any personal ill-feeling against me for your summary dismissal?” Not the slightest. I should probably have acted as you did under the same cir- cumstances.” “It is generous of you to say that, but I doubt ifyou would. However, not attemp:- ge to excuse myself at all, I may say that e event did not quite turn out as | ex- pected. 1 hoped that you would cal! on me, and that we would—well, arrange an armistice, as it were. “f thought you knew me bettcr than that.” “I didn’t, you see.. But let the dead past bury its dead. Let us give our attention to the present and to the future, and I shall begin by asking if you have any suspicion that you are a fool?” ‘A most diplomatic and soothing begin- ning, Mr. Sartwell. However, I suppose we are all more or less tinged with folly, so we won't quarrel about terms; but we seem to see the defects of others rather clearer than we see our own.” “That is undoubtedly true. It strikes me, then, that you are wasting your life, and I would like to convince you of that before it is too late.” “Yes?” “Yes. I want an assistant manager. He must be a man of ability and a man I can trust. I am getting on in years and will soon siand uside. My assistant, if he has the right stuff in him, will take my place, and the future will belong to him. 1 offer you the position.”” “I cannot accept it.” “Why?” “Because I have de@sted my life to the men.” “But you will have an opportunity of co- ing more for the men in that position than you can possibly do for them in your pres- ent office, where they grudgingly pay you barely enough to keep body and soul to- gether.” “I don’t mean the men in these works, but all workingmen everywhere.” “Rather a large order, Marsten.” P “I know it is, but I feel equal to filling “I don’t suppose you imagine I make you this offer because I am afraid of you as secretary of the union.” “Oh, no. I am well aware that you want to avoid a fight, and I know you are afraid of nothing except that your directors will not back you through to a finish.” “Do you imagine that your own backers are as adamant?” “No. My weakness is Gibbons and his gang. Yours is the board of directors. One. neutralizes the other, so it will be an in- teresting fight.” “Make no mistake, my boy; a capitalist will back his man ten times as long as a worker will his.” “I haven't your intense admiration for the capitalist. Mr. Hope promised me, almost with tears in his eyes, to look after my future when he found I was workirg to settle the other strike which so terrorized him. I and my friends succeeded in break- ing up the strike, yet you discharged me a week after, and I doubt if Mr. Hope ever gave a thought to his promise from that Gay to this. Your capitalist is notoriously timid and thoroughly selfish. The working- tegehee vou are determined to fight, Mars- en’ a “Oh, no. Not if you give in.” “How often shall we have to give in?” “Until such time as the compensation ART AND ARTISTS. rooms for the students of the art school are so arranged that with one exception they may be entirely shut off fom the gallery proper. the antique classes. It is Nghted by win- dows on the west side of the building, and is divided into three compartments by large screens. As is the case in all the other class rooms, the walls are hung with @ gray fabric, which, on account of its neutral tone, forms an excellent back- ground for the casts. Passing through the decr leading into that part of the building which is devoted entirely to the school, one finds two important rooms on the basement floor. One of these, which is inadequately lighted in the day time, is for the men’s life class at night. Over the model stand is a fine adjustable lighting apparatus with a reflector, and electric lights for the students are set at intervals in the ceiling. Every class room in the school has been fitted up with a special electric ghting arrangement, so that any one of them might be used at night should it prove necessary. The room on the base- ment floor beneath the hemicycle will prob- ably not be called into use at present, though it may be used later on as a room for modeling. To the right of the hallway on the floor above is the office, part of which is to be used by the workers in water color, and to the left is the audito- rium to be used as a jecture hall. The well- lighted room on the second floor directiy above the office is to be used by the wo- men’s life class in the morning, and by the painting or portrait class in the after- noon. On the third floor fs still another class room, but it will not be fitted up until the growing needs of the school shall require add'tional space. - * * * The portrait of Representative Wheeler which Mr. Carl Gutherz has recently com- pleted is now on exhibition at Veerhoi’s. is a small cauvas, showing the head ‘, and the artist's main effort has been to obtain a striking resemblanee. He has succeeded very well in this respect, and his handling ef the flesh tints merits no little praise. * ** After some months of hard Andrews has now about figure of Wat Tyler, perhaps the most important composition that he has un- dertaken for a long time. The sturdy a:m- orer, clad in a leathern apron and with his heimet resting in the bend of his left work Prof. completed his arm, stands beside his anvil. The feet planted a short nee apart, and the firm, erect carriage give the figure a stub- bern, aggressive air that is in thorough keeping with the character of the man. Bebind aim is the blazing forge with the dark recess of the chimney, end everywhere upon the walls of th smithy are picces of armor, sword: halberds and all manner of warlike implements. The wealth of detail ren- ders the setting for the figure unusually interestirg, but the objects have been painted with such accura to val that they resolve themselves into the b ground, and are not obtru: The terior of the smithy is illumined with a bluish uerthern light, but the cool effect of by thessunny golden ti that brightens the winding irwa the extreme left of the composition. One ot the most noticeable things about the ture is the careful and painstaking fin- of every part. * ad Mrs. Andrews will probably send her large half-length portrait of Prof. Andrews to the spring exhibition if she finishes it in time. It differes materially from the usual run of portraits in arrangement, the figure being placed well over to the right hand side of the canvas, and the composi- tton balanced by the introduction of a carved cabinei, a jar containing brushes and other artistic accessories. A tine old piece of tapestry serves as a background for the figure. Mrs. Andrews has just completed a vi effective water-color sketch of a good-natured old colored mam- my. ** * Several fine paintings of the Barbizon school are now at Fischer's, and will shortly be placed on exhibition. Of all the men of 1830, as the artists of this famous school are commonly called, Dau- Wigny kept in the closest touch with na- ture. In the “Botin,” which was the name his floating studio went by, he explored the picturesque French rivers, and depicted their beauties with directness and truth. If his paintings have not usually the com- plete harmony and unity of those by Rous- seau, the sincerity and intimate knowledge of nature which they display is an ample compensation. The Daubigny at Fischer's is a particularly fine specimen, and is by ali odds the best of the small collection of pictures there. There is little or no dis- tance in the painting, as a wall of trees rising almost in the foreground shuts off the view. The foliage is managed with marvelous skill, and a sense of the depth of the forest is given. A peasant woman ts spreading clothes to dry upon the short, thick grass, which, like a carpet, covers the open space in the foreground. The other pictures at Fischer’s are a mysterious tw! light effect by Rousseau, an animal sub- ject by Troyon and 2 landscape by Corot. ‘The latter is painted i@ the extremely quiet key which characterizes the artist's work, and is rather typical aiso in its compo- sition. In addition to these pictures of the Barbizon school there is at the gal- lery a small Inness and a Venetian scene by Ziem. * * * At the recent meeting of the Water Color Club the following officers were elected: Mr. Parker Mann, president; Mrs. Andrews, vice president; Mr. Weller, treasurer; Miss Lillian, Cook, secretary. Mr. George Gibbs resigred his position as chairman of the executive committee, much to the regret of the members of the club, as they have ing but praise for the efficient work which he did at the first exhibition of the organization. Mr. L. S. Brumidi was elected to fill his place, the other two mem- bers of the committee being Miss Perrie and Mr. Gibbs. The executive committee, together with the officers previously men- tioned, form the board of control. Seven new members were elected at the meeting— Miss Sara Bartle, Miss Critcher, Miss Wil- loughby, Miss Mattingly and Messrs. W. F. Curtis, W. H. Chandlee and Dantel Rose. * * Mr. Uht will propably send to the spring exhibition a motive which he obtained years ago, but never carried out until now. ‘The picture is a moonlit view of the beach at Dieppe, with the chalk cliffs rising a short distance from the water's edge. Mr. Uhl has endeavored to give the water the phosphorescent appearance that it often has, and has striven with no small degree of success to depict the glow of the waves as they break upon the beach. He is now busy with two portraits, one of Dr. Rich and the other of Dr. James Rodman, the latter being especially interesting on ac- count of the strong individual personality of the man. Sometimes when an artist starts out to make the quickest and most unpretentious kind of a sketch he turns out a veritable gem. This is true of the small head which Mr. Uhl laid in with no very definite aim upon an oval canvas, and it is seldom that he has delineated so sweet and winsome a face. One of the pictures tnat Mr. Uhl has recently paint- ed is a pleasure party of two out in a small skiff that riaes buoyantly upon the surface of the lake. * * Miss Ina Chase Steele, a graduate of the Washington Central High School, class cf °95, had three original designs in historic ornament accepted at the recent Arcnitec- tural League exhibition in New York. mys submitted by the Woman's School Applted Design of that city, where Miss Steele has been a pupil for nearly two years. Her work in 1896, although her first year at this school, received the highest mark of merit, the “gold seal” of that in- stitution. = = ‘ + * Mr. Edgar Nye plans to send a landscape or two to the spring exhibition, and is now at work upon a good-sized canvas. It isa wood interior, with the grass In the new Corcoran Gallery the class The exception is the long basement room designed for the use of . Dectors Diagnosed the Case as Heart Disease and Cossumption—Bat the Symptoms Were Duc Watery Blood Alone, and Disappeadead When Blood Was Enriched. (From Presbsterian Journal, Phiindviphia, Pay After years of patient and intense suffering. Mise Gertrude Gilbert has recovered ber lost health, and . is today a rosy and blooming specimen of young Wwomanbood. Miss Gilbert's Hliness, which was of several years’ duration, was due mainly to a lack of bled. ‘Teday her rosy cheeks and healthy ap- pearance denote the grateful change from a life of M-health to one of freedom from all Muess. When & reporter called on ber at ber home, No. 1919 wood avenne, Philadelphia, the young leds ran, lightly down the steps with all the elasticity of youth, “L could not have done that eight m she said, as she seated herself in a big armchair “At that time,” she continued, * ~n as [did a few moments ago, I would have, With ber eyes sparkling, and a vivaciou flurry in Ler manner, Miss Gilbert asked visit. Upon being would cheerfal been so Wouderfully benefited that w eight wonths I have grown from a mere ake to what you now see. [had ick for a hen a friend urged m try Dr. Williams® erious to this three lis for Pale People. had treated “So little bi sears were al transparent nost “It was at this time th: PHis were recommended Before I had timished tr Gt of my bealth 1 began a sy regulations on th sufticient my veins, breath and etter quality relieved of | Chai heart action wh chief troubl petite returned, enabled to do my daily. du which T had never be “Several weeks ago T stappe: and, while T feet confident 1 in such ill-health, T always, a box of Dr. Wilita are all they are repr that to th tion to he Dr. <° Pink Williams’ Pink Pitts « and ery ar cullar to females, thes and all forms blood, and reste sallow cheeks. im all cases arising fron worry or “excesses of wh Pink” Pitis a soll in boxe x se ents f ail or direct mapas checkered with patches of sunlight and . and a bit of open seen beyond the died with a good d m, and has the pl quality that is seldom want- ing in Mr. Nye’s work * ** Mr. Dunbar has just started a bus: of Spencer Nichols, which will probably be che of his contributions to the exhibit of the society likeness is already quite good, espectally about the upper part of the head * * * On Tuesday evening the So: of Wash ington Artists held a meeting at Mr. I bar's studio. Miss Margaret Tomes admitted to membership, and the so discussed a number of business ma: The executive commiitee was authorized to confer with the board of Water Color Club on the question of the pictures to be sent to the women’s expo sition of the Carolinas. Works in oil pastel will be selected from the exhibi to be held at the Cosmos Club, an colcrs will be sent im to be pass: by the joint committer. In their control of the and on water niention to make the ex: hibit the leading feature. They agree to bear the expenses of transportation to and from Charlotic, > where the exposi tion is to be held, and agree to carry in- surance upon the pictures while they are on exhibition. Tae exposition opens on the Ist of May and closes one month later. Ten days after the opening three diplomas will be awarded in each of the Several departments—oll, *water color and paste! art * -_s The statue of Poetry by J. Q. A. Ward that has recently been placed in position in the rotunda of the new Congressional Library completes the number of stucco figures that stand at the heads of the piers. The figure is clad in classic drapery and holds a scroll in one hand. On either side of it, standing upon the balustrade of the gallery, are the statues of Homer and Skakespeare by Louis St. Gaudens and Mac Morries, chosen as typical poets. —— “They Say.” “They say" ab! well, suppose they do; But can they ve the aoe ’ rect, Suspicion may arise for naught, Bar mali theaght Why count yourself among the “they” Who whisper what ther dare not say “They say.” Rut why the tale rehearse And belp to make the matter worse? good can possibly accrae om telling what inay be antrue; nd is it wet a noble plan ‘To speak of all the best you can? “They say.” Well, if it should be sa Why need you tell the tale of woe? Will tt the bitter wrong redress, Or make one pang of sorrow less? Will it the erring one restore Henceforth to “gu and sin no “Ther say" Oh? pause and look within; See how your heart inclines to si, Wateb! lest in dark temtations hour . too, should sink beneath its power. Puy the frail, woep o'er their fall, Bui speak of good, “or not at all.” New Haven Register, eee Color im Dress, From London Figaro. Hitherto one of the canons of good dress. ing has been the harmony of color in eyes and gown. We have always been taught to believe that no woman can make a fals« step as regards suitability of tone so long as she essays to match in some way the color of her eyes. But a French woman, whose exquisite dressing is the envy of all the belles of Paris, now declares this to be @ complete mistake, and that nothing is more fatal for a brown-eyed woman than to herself in brown or a blue-eyed woman to dress herself in blue. The rea- son she gives for arriving at this conclu- sion ts that an artificial dyed color placed in proximity to a natural color has the inevitable result of injuring the latter. Her theory is that there is one color, or one shade of color, or one combination of color, which suits each individual woman, and ti is this which must be sought for and dili- gently adhered to when found. ore”? deaf in one ear, and part of the bone in wash erpr hegre ‘The best physicians treated fm vain, and she used various applicdticas of sprays end washes to mo avail. Fourteen ~ bottles of 8. SS. promptly reached the seat of the disease and curefl her sound and well. 8. SS. never fails to + ephnggengeeckend is the only remedy which reaches deep teed purely vegetatne. Books free; address ‘Swift Specific Co., Atlanta, Ga.