Evening Star Newspaper, May 8, 1897, Page 15

HIS BURGLAR, How Reginald Was Taken in by Two of Kind. BY WILLIS BOYD ALLEN. ae (Copyright, 1807, the $. S. McClure Co.) en for The Evening Star. Was a sultry night in midsummer. wd that poured out of the Gayety Varieties expressed their appreciation of the temperature within the theater and without in diverse w The upp2r gal- lery took off its coat and was good-natur- edly profane; the family circle mopped its brows vigorously; the orchestra stalls merely sighed, the masculine portion, in- deed, going so far as to lift its hat slightly to allow the evening air to circulate under the silk brim. Mr. Reginald de Peyster, who had shared a box with a party of friends, cleared himself rather impatiently from the crowd, and lighting a cigarette, joitered across the common and public kardens toward the great empty house on the avenue where he was lodging for a couple of nights, between the Adirondacks and Bar Harber. The avenue wes deserted at that hour by all but the grizzly bearded poiiceman, who touched his hat to De Peyster r spectfully, but smiled grimly behind his back wher the young man had passed into the shadows of the next tree. “Swell to his boot heels,” reflected the guardian of the peace, “like his father before him: Good for nothing but to wear out silk hats, smoke cigarettes and help support the horse show!” Reginald flicked off a suspicion of dust Ww it The er from the aforesaid boots as he stood a moment on the broad freestore landing of his home. The parlor windows were h y broad shutters, and the state- in common with its aristo- bors, looked deserted and lone- in the flare of the street elec- ; but there was a dim light in hail, and De ter, having tted himself by a passkey, and snap- ped the the two doors, proceeded to hang up his hat and mount the stairs chamber, putting out the light by ach upon the automatic switch-button passed. His mother and sisters were Bar Harbor, and the great house had ts occupants this sultry night only the uer, who slept and smoked innumerable luxurious bachelor apar‘- top of the house. nds were accustomed to term it, with a certain element of facetiousness, FR: paid drew off his iow shoes, donned a light dressing gown of flowered silk and a pair of slipvers, and, having touched the ric bell knob, sank languidly down upor the open window. “Thomson,” said he to the butler, who the cushions of the rattan divan near rat out of breath and redolent of cut appeared at the door, “bring up a unch, will you? will you piease to ‘ave, sir?” (The elision of the aspirate w lar a week extra to Thor vated its neglect assiduously.) ‘On, I don’t care, so long as it's cold. No wine. Knock up some lemonade, witii ple of ice Ah-h-h!” And aristocrat yawned and sank back ‘as if enervated anew by the effort he had made. nks. Everything locked up? ¢ Don't smoke too much, Thoi urt your color.” ood night, sir. "Ere’s your cigarettes.” There was no touch of irony in the ser- vant's tone as he deposited the box of im- ported Turkish cigarettes beside the tray, glistening with glass, and withdrew. De Peyster roused himself enough to pour out a tumbler of lemonade from the tinkling Bokemian pitcher and sipped it. 2 he took a bit of angel cake—presum- procured from the industrial union rear by, for his especial benefit; Thomson Pot being tp to that sort of thing, though “grilling a steak” was one of his accom- plishments. Overcome by heat and the expenditure of force necessitated by an evening at the theater Reginald turned with a shudder from a dainty Dreaden platter of cold meats and having carefully dipped his “white finger tips In a bowl and wiped them with a delicate napkin, he threw himself down for the third time at full length on the divan. A breath of south wind crept In through the screened windows; the avenue was as quiet as a country lane; a faint, far-off “four-ply” locomotive whistle as the New York express passed a grade crossing, only emphasized present comfort, and the young man, not being concerned with stocks or ward politics, and having temporarily at least a fairly quiet conscience, dropped into a series of light naps, which, joining their drops, soon became a heavy sleep. “Wake up, but don’t ye move nor say a word! It was a considerably more unceremo- nious summons than that of Thomson an- nouncing the bath, to which De Peyster Was accustcmed. He obediently woke up and disregarded the hoarse, half-whispered command only so far as to turn his eyes toward the speaker. The electric lights in the room had been turned out, but the street lamps gent enough scactered rays through the dows to enable him to make out a tall figure standing beside him and holding ‘stol pointed directly at his head. mald winked involuntarily. ‘Come, reuse up—but don’t move nor call for help—and tell me where yer keep yer cash an’ whatever else’s worth takin’.” De Peyster now saw that the figure was masked. that he had a close-fitting cap pulled down low and gloves on his hands. “Why. really, you know,” began the young man— t so loud!” rasped the figure, hoarsely. ly watch is—* = e goc that.’ “Well, there's my behind you. My pocket book is in the right-hand inside pocket,” said Reginald, with conscientious definiteness. The masked figure stretched one hand behind him, aud, still keeping the weapon pointed at the other's head, threw the coat down on the divan beside him. “Take {t out and hand over.” De Peyster rummaged the pockets eag- erly, getting into the wrong one first, and, coat on that chair will you please to ve, sir?” extracting the pocket book, held it up awk- wardly in his left hand. The burglar reach- ed out for it. “Please dont—’ began Reginald, in a timid voice, his eyes on the other's pistol, which was inadvertently turned aside ever so little. “Eeplease don’t—don’t—stir or you're a dead man!” “You can shoot, but I shall fire at the same time.” rapidly. gown—no, under the big ww rose, there —is the muzzle of a revol . It is aimed, as nearly as I can calculate, at your heart. If you utter one word or move your pistol @ quarter of an inch I shall fire, whether you do or not. If you kill me and are caught, it’s murder in the first degree. If I kil) you, it’s self-defense.” and. “You fool!” suid Reginald, raising him- self slowly and the throwing the soft silken folds aside from the gleaming little “bull- dog” in his right hand, “didn’t you know any better than to give me that coat? drop your pistol on the Icunge, q There was something in the young fel- low’s tone that cowed the burglar. With an oath he dropped his weapon where the other’s daintily clad feet had rested a mo- ment before. “Now, hold your hands and back off @ bit. That'll do! I can reach you with two shots before you get to the door, and give you another on the stairs. It’s self- cocking, you know. That's right—keep them up!” He took up the pistol and backed slowly te the side of the room, keeping the ugly looking little revolver leveled at the in- truder. A sudden blaze of light from half a dozen electric burners illuminated the whole apartment. The burglar started, and swore again. De Peyster listened to his voice, and eyed him keenly from head to foot. “Not much capital for a man in your business,” said he, contemptuously. “Why, man, if I had you—” but he refrained from beasting over a fallen enemy; nor did that burglar know until lorg afterward that his intended victim had recently pulled No. 2 in a victo-ious university crew, and was the finest all-round athlete in the city club of amateurs. The burglir, on the other hand, seemed to have but little stamina. The other's ex- Perienced eye dwelt on his narrow shoul- ders, his slight form, the thin, bony wrists that showed below the extended gloves. He was breathing heavily and coughed a little as he stood there completely cowed. “ut down one hand and turn inside out all the pockets you can reach,” said De Peyster, after deliberating a minute as to the best method of dealing with his pris- orer. He would have called the butler, but he wanted to enjoy his victory first, and began to have vague notions of marching the man unaided to station 12. The burglar did as he was requested. Now, HE DROPPED THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 8, 1897-24 PAGES. 15 fore lea’ the house, Thomson again put his well-ordered Hnglish self in evi- “Hi was a-looking over your room just now, sir, and found this hunder the table. Is it hanythink you want, sir?” The absolute immobility of his broad red countenance was perfect as he handed the object to his master. It was a baby’s rattle. “No—yes—” said Reginald, hastily. “It was left—that is, I took it by mistake frcm a friend of mine. Leave it in my rcom when you go up again, will you?” And he made his escape. As 10 o'clock drew near the young lawyer— for such was his profession—sat in his office, laying rather nervously with his ruler. ‘he office clock said 9:45, but he could ‘not verify the time, as he had no watch. The burglar had inadvertently retained that ar- ticle. “Lucky I was having my repeater re- paired,” said De Peyster. “The old silver thing he teok wasn’t worth a $20 bill. But he'll bring it back, he’ll bring it back. He must be honest!” He glanced at the clock. The hand crept slowly around to 10, but no burglar ap- peared. Five minutes, ten, a quarter past. There was a knock at the door and a wo- man appeared, apparently a client—about as astonishing an apparition in his newly opened office as a burglar. “Take a seat, madam,” said Reginald, rising politely and motioning to a chair. “What can I do for you?” The woman, who was very tall and an- gular, advanced, limping slightly as she did so. She did not sit down. “Here’s some property of yours I wish to restore, sir,’’ she said. Reginald started at the sound of her voice as if he had been shot. “What—what do you mean?” he stam- mered, springing to his feet, and eyeing her in blank amaze. “I'm sorry I took it,” she went on steadi- ly, in queer, hoarse tones, laying down his watch as she spoke. ‘You didn’t know it HIS WEAPON, Nothing resulted but the appearance of three coins, a nickel and two coppers.” “H'm. Now up again and try the other. Ah, you don’t like that! Got a knife, per- haps, my friend, or another pistol!”” The man shook his head, but still hesi- tated. “Turn them out!” said De Peyster, sav- agely. “No tricks, or it'll be the worse for you! The other's left hand came down slowly anc turned the breast pocket of his short jumper wrong side out. “Empty! Well, now the other!” The thin-gloved hand shook a little as it fumbled in the trousers pocket. Then it came out, slowly withdrawing—a baby's rubber rattle! De Peyster gasped. “What on earth— Icok here, old chap, you're down on your luck, aren't you? The man nodded. “Drop your hands and sit down in that chair. Now, then, before I hand you over to the police, I want to ask one or two questions. You needn't answer unless you want to, and you needn't speak anyway. Then I shouldn't remember your voice if I didn’t want to. Is that all the money you have got about you?” pointing to the seven cents on the floor. he discomfited criminal nodded. Sot more at home, I suppose?” A decided shake of the head. “Married man?’ Arotner nod. “Children?” The guilty head nodded again, drooped a little. De Peyster reflected, and was evidently having some sort of a struggle with him- self. He was looking at the rattle, which the man still retained in his gloved hard— @ travesty upon the murderous weapon which had gleamed there a few minutes before. “Look here,” said De Peyster, a sudden thought striking him, ‘are there any more of your sort in the house just now?” The same mute denial. “I'll just turn the key, all the same, to guard against interruption,” suiting the action to the word. “Not that I doubt what you say,” he added apologetically, as he resumed hie seat. Another silence. The affair was becom- ing embarrassing. “Say, old chap,” Reginald broke out at length, glancing at the thin wrists, “‘it oc- curs to me that it’s just barely possible that you're not a regular hand at this sort of thing, and are driven into it by hard times?” A pair of dark eyes, through the mask, seemed to meet his with a pleading ex- pression, as their owner assented to his and | captor’s suggestion. “You might be even, well, say, hungry?” Another nod, more vigorous than before. “Sit right up to that table and finish off my lunch, then,” exclaimed the young man, with a rush of generous emotion he could not resist. “I'll trust you with the—well, I know you'll act on the square, won’t you?” There was no mistake about the earnest- ness of the assent this time. As the man rose and walked across the floor, De Pey- ster noticed that he limped slightly, and looked feebler than ever. “Don’t take your gloves nor your mask off if you can get along as you are,” said the host. “Luckily it’s a domino, so you can eat under the flap.” The burglar devoured the food raven- ously and in silence. “Sorry, I've got nothing up here stronger than lemonade,” continued Reginald, re- gretfully, as he poured out a glass of the lukewarm beverage. “I could have some wine brought uy) = A very decided shake of the head. “Oh, hang it, I forgot,” added the host, with ludicrous haste. “Well, had enough? Yes? Finish it right up, you know, if you want to. No? Then we'll be moving.” The featureless masked face turned to- ward him. ‘Of course, I ought to take you to the station and give you up,” said Reginald, thoughtfully, “but on the whole I think I won't. I'll give you another chance.” The gloved hands clasped each other tremulously. “I'm not going to give you any money,” said Reginald, with a vague sense of the ridiculous situation, and the hopeless laughter which would greet him should his adventure get out among the boys; “but I'll keep your pistol and the rattle—buy them cf you. That'll give you something to start with, if you really want to quit this business.” He picked up the pocket book and ex- tracied a crisp $10 bill, handed it to the burglar, whose amazement and gratitude poured through their only vents, the eye- holes of the black mask. “Now, if you please, my friend, I'll light you down stairs.” Softly the two crept down over the deep Axmingter carpets to the front door, as if they were a pair of successful burglars. “Good night, old man,” whispered Regi- d. “If anybody about your heigh' should come to my office, 16 High street, tomorrow morning at 10, I might help him about getting a situat He'd be a greet | of Bho le touk the gloved hard—it felt ke ly frail and thin in his own—for pigeons and then the tall, shambling figure imped rapidly away. Reginald could see that he paused a moment in the shadow of the first ae knew that he was removing the ia moment and the was lost to sight. ae pin ’ad such a good ti said Thomson as his Seanae a down to breakfast next morning. “I was feared you wouldn't like the meat, sir; "twas such a ‘ot night.” ‘Ah, yes, any. quite to- encugh. : As he was smoothing his silk hat just be-. | Was a woman you were treating so kindly, sir, did you?” Reginald was too taken aback to speak. He simply stared. There was no mistaking her sex now, though he could see that her tall, spare figure could be easily disguised in loose-fitting masculine attire. Her hair, too, was cut short. “I'd never have done it, sir, if it hadn't been for the children,” she went on tremu- lously. “My husband was sent up for five years last winter. I know just how he al- Ways worked, and I thoyght your house was empty, all but the° man who sleeps downstairs. Then when I saw you, and you looked smaller than I was, something put it into my head to scare you and get Some money. There was no silver in the dining room or pantry,” she added, with a momentary sly look, which, however, in- stantly disappeared, and was replaced by the former expression of gratitude and ding in the great dark eyes. gasped Reginald, “it’s all in the music room safe. And to think that you were a woman—I can’t realize it!” “I must go now, sir; thanking you a thousand times for your kindness. I'll never take to that line again. You've saved me from a life of crime, and the children had a good breakfast this morning.” “But can’t I do something to help you?” stammered Reginald, still bewildered by the sudden turn affairs had taken. “Thank you, sir; I've been out already and got some sewing to do. I've got new courage now to earn an honest living, and I can do it if I try.” m going away tomorrow for a few weeks, but if I can do anything in the fall, be sure to come to me,” said Reginald, taking her hand kindly. “Good-bye; I'm glad things turned out so well.” “Good-bye, sir. God bless you!” and she was gone. Ten days later Reginald, lounging on the Piazza of the West End, at Bar Harbor, was handed a telegram from the chief of police in his own city. It was to the effect that his house had been entered the night before, the safe forced, and valuables to the amount of $2,000 or $3,000 taken, ac- cording to the estimate of Jacob Thomson, the butler. It would be well, the chief add- ed, for Mr. de Peyster to come to town at once, to assist in taking measures for the detection of the criminals and recovery of the stolen goods. Reginald resignedly packed his valise for the evening train, and duly started for home. In his pocket he carried a letter which had been delivered to him at the West End in the afternoon mail. Its con- tents were as follows: Dere Sir—I make bold to rite you and tell you i am sory i was oblige to visit your house wunse moar, and this Time 1 had beter luck. Sue plade it well in your Offis, dident she? She got Onto my limp } and fuled you good and is a Creddit to her perfeshun. The watch was N G. i wud hav brot it to you myself, but i thot you mite go Back on yore word and hav me run in and Sue wanted to see how you luked. Menny thanks for the grub and the ten. Yores truely, Black Mask. P S-i hav took that kids rattle away agen. { picked it up in the Street, thinkin 1 cud fill it with shot and it mite cum handy. —_—_.___ She Was Terribly Frightened. From the London Da'ly Telegraph. A train at Wimbledon was just starting for London when a young woman reached the station, and simply had time to jump into the first compartment she reached and flop down on the cushioned seat. “Only then,” she writes, “did I observe that I had as a single fellow-traveler a man, young, well dressed, but of somewhat forbidding aspect. For the moment, how- ever, I did not feel in the slightest degree’ nervous, and commenced to read a paper. After the train had passed one station I happened to glance toward one end of the carriage. I observed the man to be greatly agitated, and gazing intently in my direc- tion. Then he got on his feet. A sudden overwhelming fear tcok possession of me. He was a murderer, I was certain. I thought of shrieking for help, but my’ tongue refused te move. The monster—for 80 he seemed to me—looked anxiously about him, apparently to make sure that he could not be observed from without. Then he came quite close to me, at the game time putting his right hand in his overcoat pocket. Was it a revolver he had, or a knife, or a pestle, or what? Springing to my feet, I faced him in despair. ‘What do you mean?’ I cried, half fainting as I spoke. He bent toward me, smiled grimly, and said: ‘Excuse me, madam; I offer you ten thousand apologies if I have alarmed you. _ Such a thing was the furthest re- moved from my thoughts. The fact is, I have to alight at the next station, and since you entered the train you have been sitting on my hat!’ I blushed my apol- ogies. Fortunately, the hat was a soft one.” —_——_+e+_____ ‘Too Gay for Him, ¥rom St. Nicholas, : I once spent a week on Scotland Light- ship, near the entrance to New York har- bor. The assistant keeper was in charge, and he was nearly stone deaf. He had mot been ashore for three months, even a ne STORY OF "TAMA JIM —_—+—__- The Man Who is Now Seoretary of A FRIEND OF THE AMERICAN FARMER ‘It is but Natura’, ‘for He is One Himself, = —_>-—__—. AND HAS BEEN ALWAYS BNEGATIONIS not a@ common char- acteristic of states- men; neither is it es- sentially typical of men in general. 1 have known but few Jim Bludsoes.”” So said James 4G. Blaine in one of his ruminative moments. In his limited list of supremely unselfish men he included an Iowa farmer, nick- named “Tama Jim” by his associates. As a member of Congress this Iowa farmer performed an act of abnegation, of renun- ciation, every whit as knightly and heroic as the inspired, inspiring selflessness and nerve of the grimy man in dungarees who “held her nose agin the bank till the last galoot” got ashore. It was an act that seems, strangely erough, to have forsaken the memory even of older Americans; the younger ones, many of them, know nothing of it. It was not remembered even before or after the mighty tribute of many na- tions to one of the great captains of his- tory at his final entombment in New York on Tuesday last. Yet it was the renuncia- tion of “Tama Jim” that restored to Grant the military title that he surrendered when he became the civil chief of the nation he had ‘redeemed with the sword. It happened during the Forty-eighth Con- gress, when Grant lay dying at Mt. Mc- Gregor. It was a democratic House. Car- lisle was the Speaker. A bill was introduc- ed restoring to Grant the rank of general. ‘The originators of the measure thought to pass it without opposition. But the oppo- sition appeared, strong and determined. To throttle consideration of the bill its an- tagonists resorted to filibustering tactics. “Tama Jim,” for several previous terms a representative from Iowa, now held his seat Provisionally. It was contested by Ben. reder.ck, his democratic opponent. A con- tested election case has the right of way in Congress. The pretext was seized by the opponents of the urgent measure to give back to the expiring leader his military rank. The supporters of the Grant bill, eagerly as they desired to get it through in lime, were not willing to sacrifice their-col- league from Iowa in order to gain their end, and thus they were in turn compelled to re- sort to filibustering to prevent the consider- ation of the election caSé, whith was exaci- ly what the anti-Grant party wished them to do. “Tama Jim’ had a good case, al- though, the House being democratic, what the outcome of the fight would have been is problematical. ‘The tangle became inex- tricable; neither side would yield an inch; the Grant bill was blocked, with its bene- ficiary close to death. Surrendered His Seat. Then “Tama Jim” rpse to the height of Arthur in his hall. Did he understand that the mere question as to whether he was to be permitted to retain his seat in Con- gress stood in the way of a’nation’s exhi- bition of common gratitude to Its preserv- er? Could it be possible that a.mere con- tested election case was to be the boulder on which consideration of so palpable an act of justice was to split?” “If this Is the case,” he concluded, calm- ly, amid intense silence, “as {t unquestion- ably appears io be, the obstacle is easily removed. Mr. Speaker, I hereby resign my claim to a seat in this House to my con- testant, Mr. Frederick.” The House rang. Every man in the body joined in the hoarse plaudit that followed the speech: The anti-Grant men were stupefied, and the Grant bill passed the- House amid a hurricane of cheers. It was rushed over to the Senate and immediately passed by that body; and within an hour after James Wileon, now the Secretary of Agriculture, had made way for its consider- ation by surrendering his seat in the House of Representatives the bill was signed by the President and became a law. “Tama Jim" went back to his Iowa farm. Among his old associates in Congreas Secretary Wilson is still affectionately known as “Tama Jim.”’ The nickname was conferred upon him because during his service as a congressman there was in the House another representative from Iowa Secretary Wilson. named James F. Wilson, afterward, and for many years, a senator. He died scv- eral years ago. To distinguish the two men, “Sunset” Cox -fastened upon Secre- tary Wilson the nickname of “Tama Jim,” from Tama county, in which Is situated Mr. ‘Wilson’s Iowa farm. z The settled, smocthly-running govern- mental system of the United States does not often provide an American public man with an opportunity to assist in the crea- tion of an office which he himself is af- terward destined to fil Mr. Wilson had this experience. At the very beginning of his career as a member of the lower house of Congress he was the spokesman of the agriculturists of this country in urging the erection of the bureau of agriculture, as it was then called, into a separate de- partment, with a cabinet officer at its head. His word may be taken forjt that at that time he never dreamed-that-he would him- self one day be called-upon-to assume the management of the depart: it he so zeal- ously strove to establish. e farmers of the United States are=stil] Bardening Pres- ident McKinley’s mall. with felicitations upon his selection of a Secfetary of Agri- culture. ed The Man 3 In. “I came here to work foggthe man with his coat off,” said Muf-Wigon to a Star man the other day. #&kThe with his ccat off” is a favorif figure of his; not unnaturally, for he Has been a man with his coat off himself ail his-life. His big, muscular, horny hands show it; his slow, heavy galt, as of Sinan ‘measuring the distance between fursows,'(proclaims it; so do his tall, rugged, but somewhat stoop- ed figure, his\lined, wind-swept counte- nance, his steel blue eyes, their singular brightnees eloquent of a life in the open fields, the lids habitually drawn together by a life-long evasion of the glaring bril- Hance of the harvest sun. Like the poet Burns, an Ayrshire Scotchman, he has known, a8 poor Burns knew, the grinding ‘of..the man;- but, unlike his manner, his movements, every one of Mr. Wilson’s seventy-three inches unmis- takably proclaims him a farmer; which means that he is no more like, than Hy- perion to a satyr. the caricature spread abroad by the comic weeklies of the man of the fields, engaged in the act of pur- chasing a gold brick, of abolishing his ho- tel rocm’s gaslight by the exhalation of lungs, of slumbering in an upturned fold- ing bed. Being a first-rate American farmer of the better sort, the type of mil- Hons of his kind, Mr. Wilson is a fine-lool ing, generous, sturdy-looking figure of a man who knows what the dome of heaven looks I:ke at sunrise, and who in his hot youth was perforce compelled to master meny hard lessons, among them the actual meaning of the couplet, “Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war.” For, when the torch of civil war gave forth its first red illumination, young Farmer Wilson was all for seizing a musket and rushing to the front out of hand. But the family to which he belonged was large, pcor, and needed its men, who were strap- ped to the plough; mereover, his brother Peter, an older man, wanted to go, and had the law of primogeniture, observed by ihe Scotch, on his side. The two men drew lots, and Peter went to the war, and died in it, The younger man returned to his ploccing of the fields, to be seized upon as a parliamentarian by his neighbors a few years later. An Excellent Talker. He is an absorbed and an absorbing talker. He possesses the Scotch gift of mental concentration to such a degree that only @ blaze in his office or something equally startling could serve to interrupt his fire of ready yet condensed speech when he is once launched on a favorite subject. For example: “Among the men with their coats off,” said Mr. Wilson to The Star man the other day, “are the dairymen of this country. They are just setting about to tackle one of the biggest jobs they have ever under- taken, and, if I have any kind of gift of prophecy, they're going to win. The prob- Jem is this: England is buying $65,000,000 worth of foreign butter a year. The United States supplies perhaps 1 per cent of it, or a little over $600,000 worth, while little Denmark supplies nearly $30,000,000 worth, buying American cow feed for the purpose of holding this immense business. We make the best butter in the world. Then why can’t we sell at least as much of it to the British people as a little country like Denmark? That's one of the things I am going to find out, if it takes all of the spe- cial agents in this department to get me the facts; and it will be one of the sur- prises of my life if at the end of three or four years we are not furnishing Great Britain with at least one-half the butter she imports.” Then the Secretary plunged into a disqui- sition upon ways and means of accom- plishing the task; methods of making, flavoring, salting, refrigerating, packi and shipping the butter; and became so en- wrapped in his subject that by the time he had finished his room was more than com- fortably filled with visitors nervously fum- bling with their watch chains in their anx- lety to see him. “Although I can’t remember ever having felt any disposition to shirk work,” said Mr. Wilson, when he had cleared his office of this particular relay of visitors, “I must own to an extreme weariness that has as- salled me at times lately. I am not given enough of a chance to get down to real work, which I never find wearisome, but am compelled to exhaust the larger portion of my time in what I might term ‘pre- liminary fiddling,’ which is exhausting in the extreme. Providing all of the appli- cants were of proven worth, it would de- Nght me to give an office to every man or woman who asks for one; and the genuine commiseration I feel for the literal hordes of persons whom I know to be deserving who are constantly applying for positions in this department does not contribute to the amplification of my vitality.” A Kind Heart. Then he rose from his leather desk chair to receive an exceedingly pretty and neatly dressed young woman in mourning, who had entered his room while he was speak- ing. The young woman had long, slender hands, like those of a musician; in speech and manner she exhibited every evidence of careful rearing, and yet the purpose of her visit to the Secretary of Agriculture was to obtain a position either in the dusty, busy seed division, or as a charwoman. The big envelope she carried contained ex- cellent indorsements. What she said in a low tone to the Secretary apparently touched him. “Why,” he said to the young woman, “you could not do the work of a charwo- man. You are not devised for it. Your place is out in the sunshine,” he concluded, pointing through the window to the sun. illuminated grounds, clustered with beds of flowers. The young woman smiled wearily. “One cannot live on sunshine, Mr. Secre- tary,” she sald, and Mr. Wilson was thoughtful for along time after her de- parture. A dozen similar distressing en- counters a day cannot fail to wear upon a man with a sympathetic disposition. His friends who visit him occasionally at his office and bring children along with them are compelled to endure utter neglect themselves at such times. The Secretary only has time for the children. A weli- known society woman, one of Mr. Wilson's old Washington friends, dropped in to make him a short call at his office the other day. She brought with her a little deer- eyed, pure-blooded Indian girl, six or seven years old, whom she recently adopted. The Secretary of Agriculture reached the little “papoose” In a stride and snatched her up into his arms. He rattled out chil- dren’s talk to her for ten minutes, and took her all over his office, showing her the pic- tures that line the walls, the little Indian maiden not uttering a word nor changing a feature, but simply gazing into the Sec- retary’s eye with an expression that plain- ly revealed her individual opinion that the gray-bearded man pampering her was about the most extraordinary human being she had ever met When this had been going on for some time the lady who had accompanied the child advanced to the Secretary with twinkling eyes. “Eh—good morning, Mr. Wilson,” she said, extending her hand with a’ smile. “How do you do? You didn’t see me when I came in, you know.” The humor of the situation made the Secretary a little red, but he frankly owned up that he could never see grown folks when children were about him. His Hobby. Secretary Wilson is another of the cabinet officers who puts in from nine to ten hours of work a day at his department. He be- longs to the careful, plodding type of workmen. He iikes to make the drafts in his own handwriting of the more im- portant letters and documents to which he appends his signature. Disaster be- falls him when, as often happens, his old farmer friends from lowa walk in upon him at his office, for a single visitation of this sort eats a considerable hole in lis working day; und it does not console the Secretary to be aware that it is his own fault. He will not let such visitors depart within a reasonable time, much as they protest that they fear they are trenching upon his indulgence. He lnes up on a leather sofa alongside a couple of these prosperous-looking elderly agriculturists from the west, and there ensues a can- vassing of farming matters, treated either theoretically, technically or practically, that is a peculiarly mysterious brand of voluble Sanskrit in the ears of a city- bred man..It is really funny to see the tremendously interested Secretary engaged in what appears to be a most terrific al- tercation with one of these farmer visitors on come minor point relative to the han- dling of cattle or the rotation of crops: the apparent war of words invariably wind- ing up in huge guffaws on both sides. Being a scientitic farmer, as well as a practical one, Mr. Wilson says that he feels as much compelled to keep up with the latest writings on scientific farming as the ambitious physician is obliged te fol- low the current developments in his pro- fezsicn. Hundreds of pamphlets and pub- lications of all sorts relative to matters of the farm reach him every week, and he through them all. He has one pet hebby, which, however, is an eminently practical and praiseworthy one, viz, the fostering of the sugar beet industry in the United States. should the United States pay out $100,000,000 a year ART AND ARTISTS The project for a permanent exhibition hall, which has been set on foot by the So- clety of Washington Artists, is winning new adherents daily. If the organization receives the stanch support it deserves in this praiseworthy enterprise, there seems little doubt that the plan can be brought to @ successful consummation. To those who are not already familiar with the details of the scheme a word of explanation will not be out of place. It is thought that a bulld- ing on Connecticut avenue, near L street, the rent of which has been generously placed at a nominal figure, can be secured and remodeled at a small cost into a large, well-lit gallery. The two large annual ex- hibitions could then be held here, and when not otherwise occupied the gallery could be vsed for the exhibits of individual artists and other collections. The society plans to solicit and defray the expenses of contri- butions from the very best artists from all over the country; and the educational value which such displays of pictures would have both for the public and the artists them- selves cannot be overestimated. In order to carry out its plans, the society needs funds, and has created an associate mem- bership, which entitles the holder to free access to the exhibitions and to invitations to all the receptions and entertainments the society may hold. The dues will be $10 tor one year, $50 for ten years, and $100 for a life memb>rship. All who are willing to help along the good cause by becoming as- sociate members are invited to send their rames to the secretary, Mr. W. H. Chand- lee, Evening Star office. The movement has attracted some attention in other cities, and among those who have added their names to the list are Mr. F. C. Van Horn of Boston and Mr. Thomas B. Clarke, who has one of the fine private galleries in New York, and who is well known as a patron of American art, and as the founder of the “Clarke prize.” Mr. Clarke has forwarded his check, saying, “I wish you and all those identified with the laudable plan to advance art in the nation’s capital a great measure of success.” x * Washingtonians will be interested to know that at the semi-annual exhibition, which opened recently at the Metropolitan Museum in New York, Thomas Hovenden’s painting called “The Last Moments of John Brown” appeared among the new ad- ditions to the museum. It shows John Brown with his hands bound, and attended by his guards, leaving jail on his way to execution and pausing to kiss a colored child that is held toward him by its mother. * * * Among the most attractive exhibitions of the year are those which Max Weyl and Richard N. Brooke are now holding in their studios in the Barbizon building. The dou- ble doors which connect the two rooms have been thrown open, and the studios, decorated with huge masses of lilac, present a gala appearance. The exhibits, which will remain open for another week, are well worth a visit. In Mr. Weyl's atelier a can- vas which at once attracts attention is his “Blossom Time,” a motive of which the artist never ti and .which he renders with unfailing success. In strong contrast to the delicate freshness of the color in this picture are the sober hues of his “Morning cn the Shenandoah.” There are a number of very pleasing pictures in which bright sunshine prevails, but he seems to be most fortunate in his gray day subjects, where the blue sky is partly or entirely overcast, and in his glowing twilight studies. Among his favorite themes are the scenes on the Potomac marshes and wood interiors re- vealing a glim of distance through a vista in the foliage, and he has presented these motives in a number of varying forms and with different atmospheric effects. * i + The picture which first catches the eye In Mr. Brooke's studio is the large canvas en- titled “The Home Bringing,” which hangs over the mantel. It bears the legend “Un- finished,” but even in its present state it cannot fail to impress the visitor with its forcible qualities, and it promises to be the best of all the artist's truthful portrayals of negro life. Gathered around a table fairiy loaded with good things are the rela- tives and friends of the newly married couple, who sit at one side of the festive board, paying little attention to the rest of the gathering, so absorbed are they in each other. The colored mammy who pre- sides at the end is just preparing to make a spirited attack upon the turkey which has been set down before her, browned to a turn, and a liberal supply of cider adds to the good cheer of the assembled com- pany. There is much fine study of gesture and expression in the guests ranged on both sides of the table, end the composi- tion and grouping are admirable. The pic- ture tells its simple story of darkey life clearly and well, and is very true to nature. Beneath this canvas is a large landscape, with a shepherd seen driving his fiock homeward in the twilight, and there are a number of exceptionally fine sunset effects among the pictures exhibited. * ** Mr. W. Mills Thompson, a student from this city, was one of the most active mem- bers this year of the “Society of American Fakirs,” as the group of students holding the annual mock exhibition in the New York Art League is called. This year's burlesque exhibition closed with the usual sale, and Mr. Thompson, in grotesque cos- tume, officiated as one of the auctioneers, contributing in no small degree to the mer- riment of the occasion. There is little seri- ous work done in the league just before this exhibit, which has become a regular insti- tution in the school, as most of the stu- dents are busy evolving caricatures and take-offs upon the pictures exhibited in the Spring Academy and Society. An indica- tion of the general interest taken in this strange show is found in the fact that Mr. T. S. Shaw, the well-known art patron, of- fered a small prize for the best fake this year, and his lead was followed by several others. One of the most ludicrous pictures in the show was a caricature of Mr. Nae- gle’s portrait of Mr. Shaw, painted on a couple of rough hemlock boards. Two knot- holes served for eyes, and with this foun- dation the artist created so successful a caricature that the masterpiece was eventu- ally knocked down to Mr. Shaw himself. * . x * Miss Emily Scudder, who has had a stu- dio in this city for severa! seasons past, is now in charge of the art department of the college in Santiago, Chile. She was called to that position during the winter, and has been working there for several months, endeavoring to bring the work of the school up to as high an artistic stand- ard as possible. She will probably remain there a@ number of years, but she still con- siders Washington as her home center in the United States. * * * Next week, in the main gallery at Fisch- er’s there will be an exhibition of paintings by a number of different artists, and some very fine pictures will be included in the number. There is a superb oriental scene by E. L. Weeks, showing the shrine of a Mussulman saint at Futtechppre, near Agra, the entire picture being full of the brilliant coloring for which the artist is well known. A number of notable portraits i ne E a Re WOUNDED IN THE WAR. Shot in the Abdomen at Cumber- land Gap, Blind, misc. and w Dropsical—& jon Colonel is Given Over to Die —How the Old Soldier Gave Azrael the Sip. From the News, Barboursville, Ky. In the year 1863, while in command of a Union olonel Messer, now cived a seve In a few mont wound in his abdomen, again in the saddie, but soon w go further medical treatment, and bi came #0 serious that in the winter of I83 he re- turned to his home, and was never again ft During the y jonel Messer has bee valid from the effect of his wound, and has been under the constant care of the local’ physictans, improving, but growing Worse us the pears rule on. His ‘condition eventually became deplorable Almost blind, legs swollen, so that he was unable to walk, the doctoms, who’ could do nothing to rest the progress of the disease, diagnosed it as ropes, and said covery, was impose old soldier @id not half beliey but said that since they could he would, upon an old friend . Williams’ Pink to directions, and by the time that was gone, be felt so much easier and more comfortable that xev- and he continued to swelling in bis lege flerce rheumatic red. Strangest of ai h for so many years had been use: rd. , Colonel Messer took Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills six months, and then was thoroughly cured, He now is e bealthy-looking man, rides on horse, yack, and stands as much fatigue as any man of nis we his recovery, is never tired of descanting Virtues of these pills advertisement tl is sends to some sick friend or surance that they will The high standing of him, el Messer and bis re- markable recovery make this report more than usually Interesting. and when it was received at the office of the Dr. Willlams’ Medicine Co, it was re- ferred to Messrs. Phipps & adon, the known druggists of Barboursville, Ky., for verifica- tien. We anpend th 3 BARE DR. W AM Gentlem quiring Fiat 1 Me was consider ik Pills did PHIPPS & HERNDON . in a condensed be claims Yours truly, ems’ Pink Pills Ife for troubles pe- pressions, Irregular ‘They build up the Ith to paie and 1 he glow of h Me atl whatever nature. sold in hoses (never in loose bulk) at box, om sia boxes for $2.50, and may druggists or direct by mail by addressin fas’ Medicine Company, Schenectady = ee — the school could hardly have been made, Mrs. Josepha Whitney received the hon- orable mention in The committee, co! M ng award the schola rative and industrial favor of Miss Louisa Wainwright. She possesses a great deal of originality and a strong sense of the decorative, as is shown in two of her best book cover designs, a blood root decoration for a volume of poems and a design rey’s Reliques, Miss Barnes, who was awarded the honoi able mention, did some very good work in tile designs, and her book covers for “Guenn” and the “Letters of Celia Tha: ter” were excellent, the last-mentione having quite a professional look. Special mention was made of the work of Miss Beulah Reeves, whose designs were pro- nounced artistic in the highest degree, but leaning toward the pictorial rather ‘than the decorative, and therefore less practical for industrial uses. Her book cover for “The Idylls of the King” {s artistic, and at the same time entirely practical. ‘The com- mittee also commended Miss Janney's de- signs, and spoke warmly in praise of the manner in which Miss Sallie Humphreys has conducted the class. * * * Lucien Powell's exhibition of pictures will open on Monday in the water color gallery in the basement at Fischer's, and the collection promises to be more than usually good. One of the best of his boldly painted water colors is a study of beech trees, the foliage being particularly well handled. Another large picture, somewhat similar in its motive, is a scene near Pax- son, Va. Some heavy boulders, covered with moss and lichens, are seen in the foreground, and stretching back ts a small open glade surrounded by tall trees. Mr. Powell shows a number of good marines and several street scenes, one of which, a view in Amiens, with the cathedral loom- ing up in the background, is especially pleasing. He is usually at his best in his Venetian scenes, and while there are no very large or important pictures of this character in the collection, many of the small bits are very attractive. * The collection of” cartoons by the late Mr. George Y. Coffin, which has been on view at Veerhoff's, will give place next week to a miscellaneous exhibition, con- taining pictures by a number of the local artists. ie, “Want” ads, in The Star pay because they bring answers. A Dangerous Spot. From London Answers. A short time ago an old ledy went on board Nelson's flagship, the Victory. The different objects of interest were duly shown her, and on reaching the spot where the great naval hero was wounded (which is marked by a raised brass plate) the offi- cer remarked: “Here Nelson fell.” “And no wonder!” exclaimed the old lady, “I nearly fell there myself.” SUBJECT, POND'S EXTRACT CHARACTER. NortH Campripcr, Mass , May 28, 95. Nothing can equal Pond’s Extract. I have tested others, and yours is four times as strong as the best. O. G. RANDALL, M.D. POSITION. Derrsy, Conn., April 27, 1895. For the thirty years I have prescribed Hamamelis extensively, and always designated Pond's Extract as the preparation. A. W. PHILLIPs. RESULTS. untaTa, ALA., May tr, 1895. s Pond’s Extract effectual in every case. I have used it in treating my patients. I have used it in cases of acne. cuts and bruises,and for corns, toothache and neuralgia, and I myself use it on my face after shaving, and find it a tful preparation and beneficial for disease for which itis W. A. Brown, M.D. BELuzrontaine, Miss., May 13, 189s. 1 have used Pond’s Extract, and find