Evening Star Newspaper, March 20, 1897, Page 17

THE EVENIL NG STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 20, 1897-24 PAGES. THE MUTABLE MANY, BY ROBERT BARR. by Robert Barr.) directors natural power on ear other hand mists of the any given pro! If to fol- | suffers from the win a big wheel, Oo against the em- ying to fill his shops. If a cog is useless by ftself it must not be for- gotten that the wheel ts also useless unuil It is easy for an em- that he is me t this truism tells a! the cog is replaced. us iS a | pleyer to supply the place of a single cog, but when the whole wheel is cogless, nine- ty-nine cogs are of no avail if the hun- dredth ne ‘ary to complete the circle cannot be found. It was here that Sartwell had the first of his opponent's quality, and his was lost in admiration for the youag hrewdness and knowledge of the iness. The fight had been conducted so ietly that no one in the neighborhood would have known, from any sign of dis- turbance, that war was in progress. Mar de no attempt to buy off the new who came and went from the works ed by the pickets. Marsten some- talked with the strahgers, telling of the strike and asking where they came from; advising them to get work where, but never making any attempt either to coerce or to bribe them. Sartweli wondered at this, and hoped Marsten would continue such a mild and harmless war- | fare; nevertheless, its very mildness made him anxious, and he cautioned his new employes to give no information to the strikers, though he was well aware of the lessness of trying to inculcate secrecy— | fer men will talk. In fact, Marsten kept himself well informed of what was going | on Inside the works, and saw that the man- ager was quite shrewdly concentrating his | attention to one branch of a department instead of trying to fill the whole factory | at one time. He was gradually collecting | his hundred cogs from all points of the | com and by and by would have one big wh and pinfon, out of the many wheels and pinions, revolving. One day at | noon. when the men came out. Marsten, rapidly running his eye over them, saw a new man, and at once he recognized that here at last was the hundredth cog. “You're a new comer?” he said, accost- ing him. Yes," morning.” d like to have a word with you,” sald keeping step with him. ivs no use. I know there's a strike. I'm here to work, and I don’t give a hang for the union!" Well, it will do no harm to talk the r over.” It'll do no good. I didn’t come out to alk; I came out for my dinrer.” ‘Of course. I'm on the same lay myself; [come with me. We can talk and eat.” IT can pay for my own dinner.” rtainly; I'm not offering to pay for I don't suppose I get a tenth part of touch nswered the man, “I came this Wages you do; I can see by the look of yeu that you are a good workman. I'm secreta of the union, and I get but a few shillings a week. I would tell you hew few, but you probably wouldn't be- | eve me, for I could get much more at my tri ‘The more fool you, then, for working fer less.” “Perhaps. I want to raise the wages of men all! over the Kingdom, so I'm conten: | to work for little if I can do that. Where you come from? I’m a Bolton man. ‘s that to you, I'd like to know good deal to all of us, because it that you are not sure of your situ- | “It shows nothing of the kind. | anteed my situation.” “Guaranteed! What &varantee amount to? this s Tm guar- does a_ master’s We're going to win ke, and then where will you new comers be? You know what happens when he men go back. Not one of you will be eft in the shops. Suppose you do not get wages for a few weeks, what will be the benefit in the end? A permanent situation at even lower wages would be bett»: | “Who says it wouldn't? But I have: permanent situation, you see.” “Now you are talking sense. Are you a ber of the union?” "t the { was. I had a row with the foreman, and he gave the sack.” “In whose shop was that?” “At Smighden’s.” “I don’t know it. gettting the Thirty shillings a week.” Do you know Markham, of Bolten?” What wages were you Sarbury & “Would you be satisfied with thirty shil- lings a week there?” if I could be sure of getting tt.” n be sure of it. I will telegraph reman this minute, and we'll have answer before we finish eating. He has | promised to find me places for three men, end I haven't sent him one yet. But don't £6y a word to any one here, for I want to keep the other two places for Bolton men they com “I'M not go back to the shop at all if I an of a place in Bolton.” Anc it came about that Sartwell lost | his hundredth cog, and the cog never | thought lat it worth his while to give his ter even a word of explanation. the first train for Mancnester. i of thing happened several times I fully realized the method 's action. He thought at first rsten had been merely lucky in 4& man at the very time when would block all progreas, pulling the linchpin from one axles of a wagon. The manager wrote to his fellow managers in different parts of the country, and warned them r foremen were giving places to from the works of Monkton & . and he received answers saying they | would do all they could to prevent. such anting; but, as it was difficult to “where a man went, when so few of ern were deported, the warning came to thin if a wholesale exodus had been pted Sartwell, with the aid of his anagers, might have done some- £ to prevent its success, out the very ypathic nature of Marsten’s remedy it difficult to cope with. By this the feeling that he was a beaten man o creep over Sartwell, aad although } nothing and sought sympathy from ‘no one, it aged him more tha had done. His daughter, m school, now saw with help}-ss was ploughing in his rug- nome rief the sten’s quiet but ef- which convinced so far- a inan as Sartwell that they e ly to be successful, had the very ite effect on the Strikers themselves. {1 not understand the game, and saw with increasing uneasiness that ks were apparently filling up while ve to prevent it. Mars- vt call meetings and enthus now hand with an outburst of as had been the habit with Gib- men thought he was doing noth- because he was saying nothing, Marsten'’s own friends began to lublous about the result. ‘There was of giving in on the part of the mas- ‘aw every day an increased of men come out of the gates. In f Marsten’s prohibition, the strikers ) gather about the gates, hooting mployes when they came out; for id grcans seemed to accomplish nething, and were at least a relief to the ‘ings of the idle men. Marsten signs of revolt with uneasiness, fut he thought, as the men this time were hot Starving, end as they knew the union was stil in ample funds, he could keep the strikers in hand until’ a decisive blow would show Monkton & Hope the futility of further resistance. He had quietly pre- ‘pared such a blow, and he expected that when it fell the strike would triumphantly end etion of the strikers, headed by waited on him, and demanded that tings should be held—as had al- | Ways been done before—so that the men might be kept informed of the proguess of a uggle that vitally affected their in- terests, Gibbons spoke strongly and feelingly on the subject, as one who speaks from the heart, aud the deputation was correspond- ingly impressed. It was not right, Gibbons | held, that they should grope longer tn the dark; they wanted to know where they were, and what measures were being taken to bring Sartwell to terms. “But, dou’t you see,” protested Marsten, “that any information I give publicly to my friends at once becomes known to the ene- my? I never knew anything to be accom- plished by talk. There is generally too much of it In a contest of this kind.” “I quite agree with you,” said the glib Gibbons, “but in the absence of talk we would like to have some evidence of ac-. tion. This sort of thing cannot be kept up forever. Sartwell is gradually filling up the factory, and we are all getting a little restive. We must know what is going on, for it wili be no consolation to be told in a week—or two—or three—that you find you have no chance of succeeding, and that we must make the best terms we can. You must remember that although you lose no situation, we do. Will you call a meeting and explain to the men what the chances of success are?” = “I will do nothing of the sort. A general does not call his army together and explain to them what he intends to do next. I am leader of this strike, and I am going to lead it my own way or not at all. You say the factory Is filling up, but I tell you that not a stroke of work has been done since the strike began. All I will promise to do is to let you krow two weeks before we come to the end of our funds; then, if you do not think we will succeed, you will have time to make what arrangements you please, and depose me.” “Oh, that kind of high-handed business does not do in this age. You are not an autocrat, remember. The men have every right to demand an account of what you are doing with them and their money.” “When you were leader, Gibbons, they were at the end of their funds before you let them know anything about it. There was talk enough in those days and precious little information went into it. I won't conduct a strike with my mouth, and I won't stand any interference.” “You are our servant, I beg you to re- member, and it is no interference when we simply ask to know what is being done and what you intend to do. Now, you will either call a méeting of the men at the Salvation Hall, or we will. Which is it to be?” “I shall not call a meeting. If you call one, then you take the responsibility of meddling in a matter you don’t understand. It 1s quite possible that you may be able to embarrass, or perhaps defeat me; but if you do, the time will come when the men will curse you for your intervention. I tell you we are bound to win this strike if you keep your hands off. Calling a meeting will merely show Sartwell that we are get- ting anxious, and his whole hope is center- ed in a division among us. He was frark enough to tell me so himself.” “When did he tell you that?” “Before the strike began.’” Gibbons looked significantly at the depu- tation, and one or two of the members nodded sadly, as much as to say they wouldn't have believed it, but it was now only too evident, from their secretagy’s own admission, that he had secret com- munications with the enemy. “I think,” said Gibbons, solemnly, “that after what you have said, there is all the more reason why you should call the men together, and explain to them how you came to be discussing with Sartwell the probable failure of the strike even before it began. You knew that was a_ tender point with us long since, and if Sartwell is your enemy, as you said he was, I can't see for the life of me why—" “Oh, there is no need of any secrecy about it, Gibbons. In fact, there is litte mystery about anything we do, and tat is one reason I don’t want io call a public meeting.” “Things are bad enough as they are. I have found that Sartwell generally knows what we are about to do before many of us know it ourselves. I went to Sartweil because he asked me to go. He knew this strike was coming on, although I had imagined it had only been discussed be- tween myself and some of the others. He offered me the assistant managership of the works if 1 would resign my postition as ecretary. I refused, and he told me this strike was bound to fail because the men would not be true to me. You can give the men the whole particulars of my taik with Sartwell, but there is no need of caliing a meeting to discuss it.” “That may all be true, but I confess it sounds rather fishy. I doubt if Sartwell is so much afraid of you as that comes to. Anyhow, there is no harm in finding out just where we stand. I will do my best to calm the apprehensions of the men, but I give you warning that if nothing more en- couraging than we have had lately turns up within a week, there will he trouble. ‘tne men wiil call a meeting themselves if you don't.” “If nothing happens within a week, 1 will call a meeting and give them an ac- count of what has been done so far; but 1 don't approve of meetings, and I shali call one practically under compulsion. You are fercing my hand, Gibbons, and you promised me fair pla “It seems to me you have had a good run for your money, and I think we are very patient in consenting to wait a week when we are being led we don’t know where. The deputation then withdrew, and Mar- sten paced up and down the room, wonder- ing if the directors were giving Sartwell as uneasy a time as the men were giving him. As was the case during the former strike, the Salvation Hall had been placed at the disposal of the men. Marsten had called no meetings except the one that had ushered in the strike. He made his head- quarters, however, in a room that opened upon the platform, and which also com- municated with a narrow lane that led along the outside of the hall to the stre Here his pickets reported to him, and here the work made necessary by the strike—the bookkeeping and the correspondence—was done. Here aiso letters and telegrams were received. It was a bare room with only two or three chairs and a rough table as its furnishing. Several religious and moral mottoes were tacked on the boards that formed the walls. “Love one another” was the sentence that met Marsien’s eye when- ever he looked up from his seat at the table. He sometimes smiled sadly as he gazed at it. Marsten paused in his walk, and sat down at the table on hearing a knock at the outside door. A telegraph messenger entered and handed him an en- velope. Marsten tore it open, and read the single word “Stopped.” The word had come from the other side of the earth, traveling from Sydney, New South Wales, to London. A gleam of savage joy lit up the eyes of the young man, and, to the amazement of the messenger, he brought his fist down heavily on the deal table. “There is no answer,” he sald to the boy, suddenly recollecting that he was not alone; “and,” he added to himself, “there will be no answer but one from Monkton & Hop Once more he paced the room up and down, his frame quivering with the delight of battle and the foreknowledge of victory. The motto, “Love one another,” shone peacefully but unnoticed on the wall. Chapter XXXVI. When the two years’ educational course at Eastbourne was finished Edna Sartwell returned to Wimbledon and again took up her position in her father’s house. As time went on, Sartwell was quietly pleased to see that there was an absence of that fric- tlon between his womenfolk which had been his ostensible reason for sending Edna away. He had had but faint hope that the interval of two years would soften his wife's only partially concealed dislike for the girl, but, now that peace reigned over the household, he did not inquire too close- ly into the cause of the welcome change. He did not know his daughter now bore uncompleiningly what she had before re- belled agairst. Mrs. Sartwell’s attitude to- ward education in gentral was one cal- culated to discourage the friends of learn- ing. She looked upon a course in school as a sinful waste of time and money. The apostles, she held, had never even gone to a boarding school, and who among pres- ent-day people were to be compared with the apostles? Education was merely a pamperer of that deplorable pride which was already too great a characteristic of this conceited nation. She had many texts at her command which went to prove that too much learning was a dangerous thing, and these quotations she frequently pre- sented to Edna, in the hope that many repetitions of them would mitigate, in some measure, the evil that was sure to follow @ period spent at a fashionable and ex- pensive school. Overweening pride was Mrs. Sartwell’s especial bugbear; it, more than anything else, was driving modern nations rapidly to peraffigh. She told Edna, sorrowfully, that sh iced an unwel- come change in her manner since her re- turn from Eastbourne. he pride which aped humility was ever the most baneful variety of that detestable fault, and Edna’s silence in the face of $06d counsel showed that her pride had assymed the sullen type which is so difficult fdr3@ good woman to deal with. It was only when Mrs. Sartwell —offended by absence of-retort and cheated out of her just due of argument by the silence of her adversaypithreateneé to lay before her husband t&ej‘appalling results of overeducation upon an already haughty nature, that some glimmer of the old re- bellion’ flashed out between them; vet the rebelliousness, like the hauteur, had been changed by the two years’ residence at Eastbourne. That ae was angry at this proposed appealj te, her father wag evident; still there was a reserve and re- straint in her indignation which Mrs. Sart- well could not fathom. The girl stood for a moment looking at her, then said very quietly: “My father has enough to worry him without Leing bothered by our small af- fairs. He thinks my two years’ absence has made you like me better than you did before I went away, and I wish him to continue thinking so.” “Like you better? My poor child, it is the love I have for you that causes me to endeavor in my humble way—praying that my efforts may be blessed by a higher power—to correct those faults that will be your undoing some day.” “I am speaking of what my father thinks. The moment he finds things are just as bad as they ever were, then ell your hold over me is gone. I am now trying to bear patiently and uncomplainingly all I have to put up with in this hovse, and I do so for no other reason than to save my father unnecessary trouble. You say I am proud, resentful, stubborn and all that. I am far worse than even you have any idea of. It makes me shudder to think of the kind of woman I shall become if I am much longer under your swa: “I feel like a hypo when 1 remain silent under your taunts, for I think sucn things that if I were to put them in words— well, we won't talk of that. If you imagine that I have learned meekness because I have lived in a really Christian family for two years, you are very much mistaken: but I have learned that true Christianity does not consist in nagging, with a text at the end of every exasperating sentence. Now, being a women, I understand you very much better than my father does. You said once that, if he chose ine to be mistress of this house, you would lay down your keys and depart without a murmur. You would do nothing of the kind. You would fight for your place. Therefore, I want you to understand thoroughly what you may expect if you appeal to my father. The moment you complain of me in any Way or lead him to think there is the least friction, I shall go to him and say that I must be mistress here. What will happen then?—you know as well as I do. So long as he is not troubled with our affairs 1 shall say nothing, and will try to be as dutiful and obedient as if I were your own daughter.” Mrs. Sartwell sat down, buried her face in her hands and wept softly, as one does whose tenderest feelings are’ wounded. It was hard that after having a lifelong con- test with one stubborn person, resulting in a most uncertain and unsatisfactory vi tory—if it could be called a victory at she should be called upon to face the problem-over again. She knew that if Ed- na appealed to her father anything might happen. He would bé brute enough to take another house somewhere and live in peace with his daughter. The man was capable of anything, in spite of All the precepis ske had flung away upon hjm,. However, there was still the consolation, that she might save the girl by earnest and devoted p+r- sistence in well-doing, 4nd she knew Edna would not protest so long as her father ¥ as unmolested; so Mrs. Starfwell agreed that her husband should not ‘be made the referee between them, and peace once more folded her white wings over tht happy home. Edna had developed iutg a beautiful wo- man; more beautiful, indeed, than she her- self had any idea of. She.was more sedate and reserved than when she had left home, and more prone to sit thoughtfully, chin in hand, and ponder, with her dreamy cyes trying to peer into the, future, Resolutely as she had set herself to put Marsten for- ever cut of her thoughts she never suc- cceded, and his vibrant, deep-toned voice often came back to: hers; Although she had been brought up in a democratic way, and theoretically held that one person’ was technically as good as arfother, yet she lived in a country where a grocer’s daughter con- siders it quite beneath her dignity to be seen in company with a green grocer's daughter, while the daughter of a draper, from her serene sogial altitude, would have some difficulty in distinguishing the rela- tive status of the other two, although she would be well aware that the adject “green” carried comparative degradation with it. Edna was the daughter of a man who had been a workman; yet, when she thought over the proposal she had received in the school garden, she was =lightly shocked to think that a workman should aspire to the hand of his master’s daughter. She had conversed with Marsten, and dis- cussed the problems that had interested them both, yet never for a moment had the thought of equality between them entered her mind. He was merely a workman, and when that was said a gulf yawned. But love levels all ranks, as a distinguished men has sung, and, the young woman meditated on the subject tn ail its bearings, the social barriers seemed to become less and less tangible. She remembered that no thought of social inequality had ever oc- curred to her while in his presence. She got no further in the understanding of her own feelings than the conclusion that she liked him very much indeed, and had a strong admiration for his manliness and his determination to succeed. When the strike came on, and she knew that her father and lover were opponents, her state of mind was one of great perplex- ity. It was hard that one or the other must be defeated, and she sighed when she thought of the relentlessne of fate in bringing into savage opposition the two men who were now dearer to her than all the world beside. As the cont father bending perceptibly day and mere silent, him grew stron went on and she saw her under the storm, aging by day, becoming more her strong affection for er; she yearned toward him, wishing she could comfort him, yet knowing she was _ helple Sometimes a fierce resentment against Marsten would spring suddenly up in her heart. He had all the world to fight again yet he must checse as his antagonist, out of the many millions, her father. It disconcerted her to perceive that tis resentment never last- ed Icng; that she found herself sympathiz- ing, too, with the younger of the com- batants and making excuses for him. A parusan has an casy time of it in this world compared with one who sees that all the good or all the bad rarely rests with one side solely, but is interwoven hke the cotton and the wool in a piece of cloth. Sartwell and Marsten each belicved he was fighting for the right; but Edna saw wrong on both sides and right on both sides, although—cnce the fight was started —she had not the courage to say this to her father. But, as war goes on, the original right or wrong almost invariably sinks out of sight, and we choose oug.gide from other considerations than those which appeal in times of peace to thinking. beings. He who holds aloof 1s branded asa traitor; and yet man, with his maryg@laus capacity for self-esteem, flatters himgelf that he is a reasoning animal. ASS Sartwell generally came heme late, some- times returning by the Jast train. It had come to be recognized thaj,it was Edna’s privilege to sit up for hing and, although he faintly protested onge;or twice when he found her there after guldnight, it was quite evident that her presence was a com- fort to him. She had a sgothing, restful way with her, moving silently about the room, anticipating a tipe@ man's needs without unnecessary fusg, and with no ir- ritating questions to ask; yet she was a sympathetic and "eeeptiy seal stener if there was anything to be toldy, In the wake of some women inanimatejpature seems to clas! doors bang, plates fall, cups and saucers clatter, and chairs upset, jangling nerves sensitive to souad,, but Edna could deftly set out a supper without so much as a chink of china. She knew the value of trivialities—the setting of the armchair at just the right angle so,that the light fell over the shoulder as it should, the placing of the slippers where the stockinged feet fell into them without effort; and, when her father was too mueh fatigued to care for the formality of sitting up to the festive board late at night, a small gipsy table, covered with spotless linen, and some dainty that might tempt the appetite of a Lucullus, would appear at his right elbow as if they had come noigelessly up through the floor. All this came ynder the general head of “pampering” jn,-Mrs,. Sartwell’s vocabulary, and the good woman, finding that her example was af no effect in put- ting a stop to it, retired early to rest, so that she might not countenance such pro- ceedings by her presence. There was a time to eat and a time to drink, and if a man presumed to be hi at midnight, it was a sin that should be punished by Gyspepsia in this world and goodness knows what in the next. In spite of the compact between them, Sartwell told his daughter little about the progress cf the strike; and she, seeing him indisposed to speak. forbore io question him, feeling that no suggestion she might have to offer could be of any value to him, contenting herself with protecting him frcm annoyance at home, and cheering him as much as possible whenever she had him to herself. But {t wrung her heart to see him fail- ing perceptibly day after day, his step, which she eagerly listened for, losing more and more its self-reliant tread. One night she sat in his arm chair wait- ing for him, thinking deeply. She looked sucdenly up with a start, and saw her Marsten Tore It Open and Read the Single Word “Stopped.” father standing beside the down at her. His face was and haggard, and the gloom of his counte- nance was deenened rather than relieved by the somber smile that parted his lips as he regarded her. He seemed like a man on the verge of a serious illness, ana so startled was the girl that for a moment she looked at him with .wide-onen eyes fearing that an apparition Stood before he “Father,” she cried at last, springing io her feet, “what has happened “Nothing, my girl, except that you been asleep in the chair when you shovld have been in bed long ago.” “I don't think I have be didn’t hear you open the are ill” “I'm right enough. A little tired, that’ No, I won't have anything to eat, 4 you. table gazing white, gaunt, n asleep. y door. But nk 's after closing hours, I know: but I'm a traveler, and I'll have something to drink, if you don’t mind. He tried to laugh a little over this at- tempted pleasantry, but his laugh sounded dismal, and it frightened the girl still more, instead of reassuring her, as was his inten- tion. The neck of the decanter clattered against the glass like chattering teeth. which seemed to annoy Sartwell, for he muttered something, and shot a ne his daughter to see if she had noticed his unusual nervousness. Then he grasped the vessel more firmly, pouring the liquor with a steadier hand, but the effort made hi tighten his lips. He drank off the liq! and set down the empty glass. Edna stood opposite him; he looked up at her with a wan smile on his lips. “Well, my girl,” he said, “the gam Has the strike ended, father?” she a: her voice quavering. “Actually, no; practically, yes. The firm will give in tomorrow, and i shall resign. Sorry?” “Iam sorry ff you are, father,” Edna, kneeling beside him. “I am not sorry that the tension has ended, for I think any thing is better than the anxiety you have been undergoing for the past few weeks. And you look positively ill tonight “Yes. A man hates to be beaten. Well. I'm fairly knocked out, and if there is ans comfort in a decisive beating, I have it. “What has happened?” “You see, Edna, in the pictures of a ba’ tle we always have the horses gallopin| the men firing, or being shot, or cutting down their enemies with the sword, but w rarely get a view of the background, ar so people sometimes do not know that i exists; yet the picture merely shows the front of the fight, as it were, while battles are often won by perfect arrangements in said the rear—the supply of ammunition, the food-and water carriers, and all that sort of thing. Well, a strike is like a batue: there are other things to consider than the actual fighting, and these things often decide the day. The direct loss in a struggle of this kind is nothing to the indirect loss. We see trade slipping away from us and going to our bitterest rivals. Some of our cus- tomers may come back; others won't. Then we are unable to fulfill contracts we have made, and, as a strike can hardly be called an act of God, we are liable to have dam- ages awarded against us where no strike clause has been inserted in the agreement. All this I have had to fight, as well as the strikers themselves. Then there is great difficulty in filling up the shops—much more than I expected. During the last week I have been slowly losing ground with the directors. They haven't said yery much, but I have felt it. “It was in the air somehow that we were fighting a losing battle, and so things have been on the balance, and the only reasor the directors did not give in a week ago was that they knew I would resign if the: did so. It only required a straw to turn the scales against me. Some time before the strike began a steamer sailed for Sydney, New South Wales. It had a large quantity of our goods on board. Today I receiv notice from the owners that the ship lay there and could not be unloaded because of our strike. They propose to hold us re- sponsible for the delay, and that will mean an expensive lawsult, whichever way the verdict goes. This is serious enough in it- self, but the fact that we have been struck from the remotest ends of the earth while being paralyzed in London will make the directors give in at once. So, my girl, I'm a beaten man.” “But might you not have been beaten in any case?” No; another week would have seen the men back—I am sure of it. They are seeth- ing with discontent, and have called a meeting for tomorrow night, in spite of the protests of Marsten. There is sure to be a split, and all I need is a slight defection to set the works going again.” “Why need you resign, father? You have done your best, and the directors know it.” “Ah, my girl, you are sleepy; I can see that, or you wouldn’t ask such a question. But now you know all about it, so off you go.” (To be continued.) ees Bitter and Sweet. The apple that grows the highest is the best upon the tree; The rose that 1s most fragrant always has the sharpest thorn; ‘The pearl that is the purest Mes within the deep- est sea, And the deeds that live the longest are of hard- est efforts born! The love that’s won too lightly is not treasured as a gem; The words that flow too freely never have the greatest weight; Man appreciates his ‘blessings if he has to strive for them, But he never knows their value if they're pasned up on a plate! —Cleveland Leader. St. Paul.. Mar. St. Paul../Apr. COMPAGNIE | GENERALE. ¥ A‘ Paris, §80 and upwaed, including Paris, parlor cor scat, and landing ond-ciass *o Paris, Agent, GW! Mo: Painless Extracting, 50c. Best teeth, $8. Fillings, Crowns, I at corresponding prices. Each departin harge of au expert specialist of long _ EDUCATIONAL. u IN WASHINGTON, MANDOLIN VIOLIN—GUITAR. (Special rates), 20 lessons fi ARTHER hE Banjo and Man Instruction b KINGHAM ef pup mhi7- 1802 19th st. Painting sani Lawrence Schooi\" of Music Ge. ¥. Layrence, gratis, Low Washington Hgts. School, |, as ; oe 59 Wyoming ave. Home and Day Sch 1 for « for _papil ering for short Un nuttin Chevy Chase FRENCH AND ENGLISH BOARDING AND DAY School for Young Ladie: hour feom Washingtos, D. C., by electrle each the language of the house. . 1896. Address. Mile. M. LOULIGNY Im PLO. Stati Was 2D. NCH PHRASES WILL ris exposition: no Interpret rates address Mine. Martine, St uiees at Arlington. Music also tanght A Business Education. None better. $25 a ve Ixy Institute Business Colle Sth and K nw, “HOOL OF 23 PHONE only $0 lessons to. pr new term: French well. ad and. understan method. Mile. oi PRUIYHOMME, 307 D st. Gaillard School. :sm raat lessens. Daily classes. of Languages, '« verde as hi Gunston Institute von cms, 1212 AND 1214 14TH ST. N.W Mr. ana Mrs. B. R. MASON, Priocipals, WASHINGTON CONSERVATORY OF MUSIC luth st. nw. Piano, organ, and mandolin, that to yipils. 0. BL BULLARD, bu THE Meno! 1 FOR GIRLS, 1624 Mass. : st.. 1623 N st Thorough primary and arators de Fi rtmen! in E acced classes ish, Modern ALD, M.S. Principal . Preceptress. sates in positions. jazs-2m" Shorthand ,.2i.0 Ut ‘“Drillery.” 504 11th st., Ist floor. S BALCIVS CIVIL SERVICE 1 siness College—1311 11th st for examinations. of the greate: 1,809 persons pre- phography, taught. xperts In Washington, nos CORNER M AND ELEVENTH TS. English and French Boarding and Day School for Girls. Reopens after the Christmas vacation January each, Mrs. ELIZABETH J. SOMERS, Principal. ADELIA GATES HENSLEY, Associate Prin. 4 3 ping ever taught easy to learn fascinating. Try our full commer. cial course, and your money will be rel are uot satistied. Berlitz School of Languages 23 14TH ST. NW, Private and class lessoas in G uish and Itallan, taught only , also Latin and Greek lessons. ily. Trial lessons free. werican and Eus WM. N MUMA COLUMBIA COLL + enth street northwest, C.K. URNER, A.M, ©. leading school of busine: attainable grade of inst Fry ‘thon at _mod- s nol7-tt THAND, PIT metho 3; CIVIL SERVI Experienced teachers. High erate cost. Situations for gradual WARD C. TOWNSEND, MISS ADA LOUISE TOWSSEND, Elocntion, Voice Culture, Grace, Expression, 1317 13th st. n.w. ‘TRAVEL, HOLLAND-AMERICA LINE Prom New York to Rotterdam and Austerdam via 3% hours from Paris or London, -Mareh 27, 10 AM April 3.10 AM 3 second ed 1 Passen, OCEA} to G. W. Mos ave, and ington,D.C. PRESS ST “Havel. 1 pr. Gt CHERBOUL z every Wednesday. 4, 100 am (St. Louis. . Ap BI 192 10 90 1A 18am St ed Star ‘New York Ma -/Apr. N GEO. W. 4 921 Penn. ave. French Line. pet pri 10, 10 at. New’ York to y fare to res. FORGET, Bowliag € v2l Penna. ave., Washingt: 75. A. neral Office, No. jal9-1y DENTISTRY. ‘o students. AI work guaranteed. ? Jad-10tt . Sie: aS FREE DENTAL INFIRMARY.—DENTAL DEPART- ment of Columbian University, 1325 H st. n.w. All operations upon the teeth at cost of material used. Extracting free. Hours from 1 to 5 p.m. 0e20-tf Out of Order. From the Detroit Fr2e Press. “Do you mean to say,” asked the visitor, in horror, “that the gentleman was shot for simply rising and making a motion during a meeting of your debating sc- ciety?” “Sut'inly,” said the colonel, “but you must remembah, sah, that the motion he was called down on was made in the direction of his hip-pocket, sah.” ————-+ e+ Forced to Do It. From the Chicago Record. “Things are looking up.”” ‘How so?” “Some fellow pas invented a cash register for married men’s trousers pockets.” soe Wise Economy. From the Philadelphia North American. “I see Billings has remarried his di- vorced wife.” “Yes; he says it’s cheaper to support her than it is to pay her alimony.” + His Proposal. From the Chicago Record. “They say people who live together get to look alike.” “Is that so? Well, just in the interest of | © % ABBOTT. acience, let's try it.” ‘WM. L. FORD, FOR ALEXANDRIA.—6:40, 7:05, 7:35 “Dally. z FoR MOUNT VERS! z STATIONS.—*6:40, eh ‘Dally. FOR ARLINGTON, Dally. 8:00, 9:00, 10:05, 11:00, : % ATTORNEYS, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, tf 620 F st. nw. House, 1309 Q st a nw. CAMPBELL CARRINGTON, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, Webster Law building, 5% D st. ..w., Washing: ton, D. ©. Residence. "No. 3 Mount Vernon Flats, New York ave. and 9ta st. nw. sels RAILROADS. WASHINGTON, ALEXANDRIA AND MT. VERNON RalLway. From Station, 13% st. aud Penna. ave, In effect “July 20. 200, 8:30 ex., 9:50, °10:05 ex. x 30, *1:15, Barpage checked tree for pasetioeca Selah frat class fickeis at station. 25 cents each, GEO. R. PHILLIPS, . Pas. Agt. 100 104 THROUGH Ti ITUTE AND t MT. VERNON SEMINARY, | i Fapress 11 t 5 Ringer static dury with bar a Augurtive. Also Pullman New Savannah and Jacksuuville, and New York to Mess phis, via Birmingham; ION jane beens _m. ex Sais for Mound Hill: day, for Leesburg, and 6:25 p.m. daily . Returning, arrive at lp 8:26 a. p.m. daily ‘from Round Hill, 7:08 a.m. daily, cx cept Sundas, from Herndon, 8:84 a.m. daily, PENNSYLVANIA NEK OF SIXTH STUEETS. s. PITTSBURG EXPRESS Cars Haretst Pirteburg, AM to Ha Car and 1 nat ning C3 SOUTH man Sleep llurisbarg to St cinnatiy. Di 4 for Kw Magara Falls AM - now dally, except ¥. For Lock Maven week days and Wil sport Sundays, 3.40 PM Butalo and Roches or, Tut- Sleeping Car Wash- Willatasport ra Falls dail; Washing ter, rd sien PM. for Eri W YORK AND TIE LIMITED.” daily, x Car from Haltimore. ar), S30, DM, 10 ar from Wil 10.00 9nd > Express. 1. For Boston, witho ays, and 215 PM, all River Brids Limited), 1049 and 10-0), AM. at daily, except: Sur For Annapolis, AM.. 1245 and 4-20 PM. daily Sindays, 9:0) AM. d's 3 rial” for Jack- M. week Gays, nd poluts om Atlanti> ¢ 246 PM. daily i Week days; Atlanta fal. via Seat Air 440 PM. fon for Q AM. k days i s, corner Fifteenth king of baggage to id residences, 3. R. Woon. General Passenger Agent. OHIO RAILWAY. GRANDEST SCENERY OF AMERICA, ALL TRAIN v ELECTRIC LIGHTED, . ALL MEALS SERVED IN DINING CARS. STAs TION SIATH AND B STREETS. dule in effect February 22, 1897. Louls Spe- ullmai sleepere exington, Mudianaajy Louts without change. Parlor care Cun AILY—F. F. V. Limited Solid train Pallman shee compartinent ear to ¥ ia Met Springs. Tuesdays, Thu sand n for the Spor and St. Loui DAILY. For Gordonsville, on and fo da ané Ole we, 1110 ations and tickets at Chesapeak s, S18 and 1421 Pennsylvania ave eet northwest, aud at the 6! fe23-38a eral Passenger Agent. Old Point Comfort WITHOUT CHANGE OF CA 54 Hours from Washington Via Penna. Ro FL & P., and Chesapeake and Ohio Rys. Sebedul February %, 1807: WASHING PoINT's > 4:20 pam. Thursdays, aud Saturdass. Solid vestibuled, lighted, steam-beated in, with « mich, parlor ear, dining hr without 7 a nada Washington Richwmowd to Old Point Kichwond, 2:45 p.m; Old Polpt, ster at Richiond. offices Pennsylvania, srvations at RR. at station, formation fell-2m ascencer Agt. LTIMORE AND OHIO RAILK edule in effect 3 1 corner of New stre e Washington fr avenue and » uid Northwest, Vesttbuled Limited tre a.m., p.n. Cinet , St. Loatx aud Indianapolis, Ex- ss, 1 Vestibuled Limited 3:40 pan, pm. snd Cleveland, express daily 10:00 pam. nd Detroit Winchester aad rie 11:25 p.m. stations, 10:00 a.m, his, Birmingham, Chat aud Koanoke, 9:00 p.m, and way points, », RAS, 430, 4:38, Sandays, 9:00 "a tm., 1:15, ‘on Junction and way points, pu., week days. 1:15 p.m. Sun- NEW YORK AND ° trvins for Phila. Luo, daily, S09 p.m, day trains 12:00 noon, ad nays, For Cape Mas FExcept Sunda, s Sunday only, os traigs. Razeage c: Wd checked from hotels and SOUTHE Schedule to AN trains tN RAILWAY, ect January 18, 189% rive and leave at Pouusy! Daily. 3. Cc ure I ia pase S00 AM. Local for Dunville, Charlotte ames for Stra daily Norfolk and rapeake aud Obie Lexington ) STATES PAST w York Salis per for “Asheville and H. and Chatta: v ‘ashington ullnan Kioxvilie Birvuingbam aod n to New Orleans with- set Persnally Conducted ‘Tourist h Sleeper ou this train every Sat- cisco without chaug Local for Front Royal, Stew S except Sanday” eily. Local for Charlottesville. y except Sundays. NEW YORK MITED, Paliman Vestibuled ars, “Observation and Com. ork with connection AND SOUTH. ESTIBULED LIMITED, composed of Yoptated Sleepers. Dining: Cars ‘and Day Tullman Sleepers New York to Nastivile, via Asheville, Knoxville and Chatta ork ‘to Tampa, via Charlotte, Columbia, w York to New Montgomery. Vestibuled Day Southern Iatlway Atlanta # ‘SON W. Sunday, from L % Through trains from the seuth arrive at Ws —. 42 am. y 9: m. ex day Front Gharsttesel ‘avi. ickets, ‘Car reservation and informa- tion Toe Bag S11 and 1300 Pennsylvania avenue, and at Pennsylvania railroad passenger station. W. H. GREEN. General Supt. |. BM. CULP. Traffic Manager. . A. TURK. Gen. Pass. — 18 §6L. S. BROWN, Gen. Agent Dept.