Evening Star Newspaper, July 17, 1897, Page 18

18 , THE EVENING STAR. SATURDAY, JULY 17, 1897-24 PAGES. MRS. HETTY GREEN] A Chat With the World’ Richest Business Woman. HOW SHE CARES FOR HER MILLIONS | Her Idea of the Best Way to Ac- cumulate a Fortune. peer eee OF COMMON SENSE >! VALUE . by Frank G. Carpenter.) ‘The Evening Star. TY, July 15, 1897. RS. HETTY GREEN was in her office tn cW YORK C M Y the Chemical Na- G4 tional Bank when I called upon her one day this week. Het- ty Green is said to be the richest wo- man in the world. Her wealth is esti- mated at from forty to fifty miltion dol- lars. At 5 per cent her income mus: be over $5,000 a day, or a minute, day and night, Her property is of investments stand s 1 year out. kinds and her more than year in ny freckles on the face of the With States. the grip of an oc- | spondence, topus her mo: embrace some of the most valuable properties of our big- gest cities between Boston and San Fran- cisco, and the dollars roll in to her from every pert of the country between Maine and Texas. In railroads and sieamboats, in m 21 and iron, In the tele- oeks cover al! gra ¥inds « nost every variety x in ater part of this vast wealth nts and she «© had been at jour when I met her li o'clock yesterday morn- 2 before she present appoint- ted for her bank. It is not for it is rely one the cash- enned up in gild- t bank- n the to this e United tes. Hetty bied from roof. At by a long wal- use for sorting nd on the opposite pace between forms the ordi- it would nning on one The desk and the stuffed with Mrs. Green's thrown ks for mil- comfort = papers 1s a box about Te and a foot « of of those in which a This of tin, a of Po nie it is M rs, t homeiy e Size a look you think ja he “Mer- Green's bex though its out- tin, I doubt not that and is bi are millions in it. A Chat With Hetty Green. I wish I could show you Mrs. Green as acted with me after her business 1 gone. She ts a far different you know in the makes me think of one Sood old mothers whom you will ¥ the dozen in almost any coun: town. a woman who has brought ups How, lly and do: ell, and who now in her fe has been a hard thy with humanity je on to the close. * woman can have a face like not have a heart prone nd love. Her eyes are biue Her mouth, though deter- about it, and a out of her every looking, and she must beautiful girl During showed me some -ta- guerreo n of herself . of the milliona ntatious way she told e life hefore her » was for. fight or her id not have motherly old bove. Her dre: goods, trimmed with ther rusty than new. a sateen of black spotted with white upon her head she wore & veil, w was sted about so as to look like Although she speaks four languag words she used were plain Anglo-Saxon, and she never hesitated io | a@ spade a spade. She has a slight Yankee accent. which comes, I suppose, from her having been raised n Vermont. There was not the slightest affectation about her. id not see an atom of the ines or of the suspicious racter usually associated with the de- seriptions of her. I found her, in f: rather modest than anything else. Where She Got Her Business Training One of my first questions was as ‘to when she first discovered that she had business ability. replied: “I don’t know that 1 have much bust- ness ability, but such business ability as I possess has been developed by the neces- sity of taking care of my fortune. You see, I was not born poor. We-have heen twenty-two rooms and two bath rooms, and my father, grandfather and greai- grandfather were rich. The first idea that I ever got of business was from my grand- father. I used to help him in his corre- and I absorbed some of his business methods. Still, I had nothing really to do with business until my father died.” “It was then that you began your fight with the lawyers, was it not?” : replied Mrs. Green. “It was that fight that has made me a business woman. You see, the lawyers tried to swallow up the estate. I let them go along for a time, but I soon saw that J could trust only myself. I was forced inte the studying up of financial matters, and I had to take everything into my own hands. I had to learn step by step, and at the same time to fight my way in the courts. I have been fighting for the last thirty years, and have not finished yet.” Inherited Money fs Oaly a Trust. “But I should think you would get tired of it, Mrs. Green? I don't see how any person can use more than the income from a million dollars. Why don’t you stop and enjoy yourself? “I don’t know,” replied the woman of mil- “TI look upon my property largely as ._I take care of it on much the same principle that you would take care of a valuable animal were it left in your charge. You see, my father had the idea that the money which one inherited should be given over undiminished to the next generation. He thought that the person who inherited it had the fuil right to the use of the in- but that he ought not to spend the ncipal. This is the way I have felt.” “Yes, Mrs. Green,” said I. “But you have greatly increased the principal. You are said to be the richest woman in America. How did you make so much money. What &re the secrets of your success?” “I do not think I am the richest woman in America.” replied Mrs. Green. “it is true I am rich. 1 have been blessed in my investments and that is all. I don’t know thet my fortune is due to any fixed prin- ciples. I only use common sense. I buy when things are low and no one wants them. I keep them until they go up and people are crazy to get them. That Is, I be- lieve, the secret of all successful business.” The Best Investment. “Yes, I suppose it is,” said I. “But the thing of it is to know when things are cheap. Where would you advise a person to invest just now to get the most out of his investment?” “I would advise him to invest in the other world,” was the quick reply. “All the other things that are offered just now are :nigtity uncertain “But You are sald great deal in Wall street ake money there.” (hat is a mistake,” replied Mrs. “I never speculate..I sometimes buy but I buy them as investments and not speculations. I never buy on a margin. you buy I suppose you use your ment, do you not?" Not alioget was the reply. “I ad- e with my friends very often. If they re all against me I hesitate a good deal before I go in. I do the same as to my law suits. If my friends and lawyers tell me there is no chance for me I would rather compromise than take the chance ef suc- ceeding by fighting.’ How One Rich Weman Lives. The conversation here turned to Mrs. Green's capacity for hard work, and I ask- ed her something as to her habits. She re- plied: “I don’t believe there is any one who works harder than I do. It takes all of time to attend to my business. I get jock in the morning and I am ntil late in the evening. r of my eatin plain feod but avoid knick sui nd butter, for I believe they do not agree with me. It is not on the grounds of economy, but of health. Why, I have just come from Chicago. While there I stopped at the best hotel in the city. I could have eaten a ton at each mea! and it would not have cost me a cent more, but I confined my best of I avoid s are such that I have to tra’ deal. I have my property to look . and every now and then I have a nit to at to. I find that things al ways go better when I am on the ground. Mer Quaker Training. ou keep very young through it all, Mrs. Green,” said I, as I looked at her bright eyes and noted the energy and vi- vacity with which she talked. “Yes, perhaps ‘I do,” was the reply. You see, I never worry about things. I am al- ways ready to fight for my rights, and I 0 the best I can every day as { go along. After I have done a thing I let the matter irop. My bu idom keeps me awake at ni I well, and, as I have told you, I eat c iy. ¥ ribute my free- dom from worry largely to the fact that I am a Quak and that my father brought me up te ng me to keep myself well in hand. He used to tell me that, if I would learn how to manage my braln I would knew how to manage my fortune. I can remember when I was a very small child and father noticed that I was out of sorts ab something he would say: ‘Hetty, er, art thee angr: If 1 replied he would answer: ‘Well, Hetty, thee t speak for fifteen minut At t the end of that time he would ask if I was sull angry, and if 1 replied yes, he would tell me not to speak for an hour. At the end of the hour 1 might be told to keep silent for three hours, and if I proved still contumacious, I was forbidden to speak Hetty Green as 2 Young Woman. until the next morning. This taught“ me self-discipline. I learned to hold myself in check, and the result is that I can now use my brains to the best advantage. I have bad much experience in courts and with lawyers. They can't make me lose my head, and their cross-questioning does not annoy me.” “I think the lawyers know that they can't worry me,” Mrs. Green continued. “You remember how Choate catechised Russell Szge about the ccst of his clothes in court not long ago. He tried to make Sage lous. I would like to have seen him attempt that with me. If he had asked me about my clothes I should have said: ‘Now, Mr. Choate, if there is anything I have on that you think Mrs. Choate wants or needs, I will go into cne of the ante- rooms here and take it off and let you have it. All that I ask is that you leave me enough so that I can.get back home without Anthony Ccmstock or the police getting after me.’ I don’t believe he would have usked the question twice. I can’t see what business it is of Choate. what I wear or what Mr. Sage wears, and it seems to me that such questions are rather im- pertinent to say the least.” America’s Heiresses. “Your fight with the lawyers has been a long one, Mrs. Green,” said L “Yes, it has,” was the reply. “I have had an awful time und no one can realize how much I have been persecuted. Why, if I were asked whether I would prefer to have my deughter go through what I have gone through or be burned at the stake over there in front of the City Hall, 1 would say: ‘Let her be burned.’ There is no place in the world where women can be persecuted as here. America’s heiresses have a worse time than the Indian wi- dows. The widows of India can burn themselves on the funeral pyres of their husbards. If they are rich they ought to be happy, for it saves them tots of trouble. As for me, I have been robbed all my Mfe. I have had my daughter so injured by the brutality of a lawyer's assistant, who threw her against a safe door, that she can never recover. I have been misrepresented and abused in the newspapers in the at- tempts to make me ovt crazy, and for thirty years I heve had to fight for every inch of my way. You have seen the stories wligh have been published about me. Many of them ere disseminated by ich for three generations. The house in which I wes born in Vermont had the lawyers. I verily believe they would kill me if they were not afraid of the law.” “Take that story cf myself and my black bag.” Mrs. Green went on. “I used to carry a bag with me, you_know, when I came down here to the office. I brought my papers in it, for I do a great deal of work at my home. The lawyers circulated the reporis that I had a great deal of Toney in that baw I have no doubt but that they thought some one might assault me in order to get possession of it. At any rate a policeman called at the bank one day and told meethat I had better give up carrying it, and I have done so.” “By the way,” Mrs. Green continued, “I got a curious present the other day from Sun Francisco.. It was just after my fight with C. P. Huntington down in Texas. I beat him in the courts there, and the peo- ple of San Francisco were delighted at my success. One of them sent me a box con- taining a 44-caliber revolver with a lot of ammunition and a belt, so that I could hang it at my waist. In the letter accom- panying the box the writer stated that this was a little buttonhole bouquet from the citizens of San Francisco and that if I came out there they would meet me at the depot 10,000 strong and we would march on together to victory against Huntington and punish him for his outrageous treat- ment of the people of the Pacific slope.” The Rich and the Poor. “What do you think about rich men, Mrs. Green? Don’t you think they are to a large extent the cause of the herd times?” “No, I do not,’. replied Mrs. Green. “I think the chief trouble comes from the men between the rich and the poor.. It ts the middle men who are causing the distress. They want to arouse a hatred of the poor against the rich in order to make money out of it. It is the middle men who organ- ize the big corporations and water the stock and get rich men to buy it. It is they also who stir up disaffection among the poor.” “Hew about the anarchists?” “I have never found the anarchists very bad,” said Mrs. Green. “I have just come from Chicago, the city of anarchists. The trouble with the anarchists is that they are misled. Most of them will do the right ape when they know what it is. You may rerfember that I had a fuss with some of the anarchists a few years ago. It was when my boy Ned was just graduating. I am trying to teach him business, you krow, and I wanted him to learn what it cost to make a building and what went in- to it. In that case he would know some- thing of what a mortgage on such a build- ing was worth. I was putting up a block in Chicago, and I told Ned there was a chance to learn all about painting and other work. So I bought a pair of over- alls for him, gave him a brush and a keg of white lead, and hired a man to teach him to paint. He was laying on the stuff, when one of the anarchists came to him and threatened to throw him into the lake for taking the bread out of the working man’s mouth. I reasoned with the man, and showed him that Ned was not getting any money for his work; that the job had already been let out by contract, and that the painters would get all that there was in it. The result was that he went away satisfied.” “What is your ambition for your son, Mrs. Green?” I asked. “I have none,” replied the woman of millions. ‘‘All that 1 can ask or hope fs that he will make an honorable and up- right man. I would like him to be able to manege his property and to make the most of himself and it.” Value of Common Sense. Mrs. Green next spoke of her daughter, who is an invalid, and whom she spends much time nursing. Mrs. Green is very proud of her abilities as a nurse. Said she: “TI can take a patient and nurse him quite as well as these trained nurses of the hos- pital. I took care of my father during his last illness. He died before we had trained nurses. I remember that I kept a record of his temperatures, the times he received nouyishment, and the times I gave him medicine just as the nurses do now. I have often nursed people in the hotels where I have been stopping, and I don’t believe that I have ever had a greater pleasure than seeing them get well under my care. The secret of good nursing is common sense just as common sense is the secret of money making. Common sense is worth more than doctor's sense. I remember a case I had which {illustrates this. It was my laundre: She had been working for me for many years, and all at once she be- came sick. She tried the doctors, but could not get better. She thought she had a worm in her stomach which crawled up at night and ate at her throat, almost choking her. “At last I said that I would come and nurse her. I first took her out on the- front perch when the sun was shining, so that IT could get a good sight at her, and look her over. I made her open her mouth wide, and on lookirg in I saw that she h very long palate, and that her ton- is were quite sore. You see, her palate had dropped down at night, and she thouht it was a worm. I told her that I thought I could kill the worm, and I sent for some alum: and a preparation of fron. I put the alum on a spoon and touched it to her palate. You know how alum acts, -it puckers your pal- ate up. I then used the iron preparation for her tonsils. Well, that night the worm did not bother her. I continued the treat- ment for several days and it made her well. “Now,” concluded Mrs. Green. “That cure was accomplished by the use of com- mon sense. Common sense I believe is the most valuable possession any one can have. Such success as I have had in life has been due to it, and to the fact that I was not afraid to use such common sense as God gave me. I believe in the Ten Command- ments and I obey them as far as I can. I try to treat every one fairly and I think it is my duty to defend myself when I am imposed upon. As to fashion, I care noth- ing for it. I live simply, because I Ike to do so, and because I believe it ts bet- ter for my health. The chief end of my ife ts not to make a show, but to do the work which seems to lie before me just as well as I can.” FRAN Skips in the Film, From the Chicago Reedrd, The failure of many of the veriscope pic- tures of the Fitzsimmons-Corbett fight brings out two points in strong rellef. The electric motor has become such a famillar device that its full usefulness is realized only when from any cause its operation is interrupted. The usual practice in the taking of veriscope pictures is to feed the long strips of film to the camera by elec- trie motors regulated to carry suffrient film past the lens for twenty-four pictures per second. On this occasion a crank turned by a man was substituted for an electric motor, and consequently the f.lm lacked regularity. There were serious de- fects in the spacing between the pictures, which will cause flashes of light to appear when the pictures are enlarged by the lan- tern for the sereen. The standard space betwaen pictures is 1-Gith of an inch; the spacing of the Carson City pictures varies from 1-64 to 1-8 As the pictures are en- larged 200 times the normal space of 3 1-8 inches is.exaggerated in many instances to 2 feet 1 inch, l.e., from a scarcely ob- servable interruption to a wide break in the continuity of the series. The reels, tco, had been freshly painted only the day be- tore the encounter, and the paint was rot dry when the film’ was put on them. The result is that the film was solashed with paint along its edges, and in parts across its face, so that many negatives had to be cut out, necessitating the cementing to- gether of the film ends, and the loss of im- portant details. Three cameras were used in the series, but never simultaneously. The first few thousand feet of film bears only the pictures of the derby hat of a spec- tator,with a penumbra of ringside incidents, end the sixth round ts obscured in import- ant parts by a fog of smoke from the cigars of the favored few inside the rails. All this goes to show that the mast sclen- tific apparatus may be made of no avail by the absence of judgment. In thig cause a fortune was lost for want of manage- ment and a little common sense. ———_+e-. Content. ¥. L. Stanton, in Atlanta Constitution, G.°CARPENTER. CAMELOTS OF PARIS Drift Wood in the Eadios of the Great French Oapital. WHEN THE HAWKER 18 IN HIS GLORY Various and Sundry Ways of Pick- ing Up a‘ Living. IN FRONT’ OF THE CAFES Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, July 5, 1807. HEN THE WARM come, when the late twilight melts slowly, at 9 o'clock ind past, into the white glim- mer of the electric lamps, through the green leaves of the trees which line the Boulevard, the hawker of things sundry and miscel- laneous is in his glory. Then all the world and his wife are seated in front of the cafes, which install their little tables along the open walk in as many rows as the tolerant police will permit. For in Paris it 4s more important that people should sit at their pleasure in the open street than that mere foot passengers should have free way. They sit and look at the many-colored show of life as It passes. And from out the show from the crowd of young men and maidens, of painted charmers and old men dreaming of their lost youth amid the pre- vailing odor of femininity—the hawkers step each raoment to recite glibly their lit- tle speech and display their wares to the idlers drinking and gazing coolly at the tables. “Latest novelty! The key of Mazas—be- hold!” The young man in worn gray sult and cap to match holds up in his hand a great rusty key that might weil be a copy of that which opens the gloomy portal of the first prison in France to be built on the “Philadelphia system’ of solitary confinement. Solitary confinement has already been practically given up, because it is useless to inflict maddening loneliness as a punishment for “For a Surprise in Society.” crime, and In another year the frowning walls of the prison itself, which are the last sight of Paris to the traveler leaving for the south and Rome, will disappear. The hawker holds up the key, and pull- ing gently at the end sets free a gay-color- ed fan, to which the key in its pasteboard imitation of rusted iron, serves as a handle. “Behold—latest novelty, fitted to the sea- son, ladies!” and he fans himself indus- triously by way of example, swinging other keys in his hand. “Only fifty centimes—ten sous!” It is the union of cheap archae- clogy with summer comfort. ‘The Paris hawkers form a class apart, about which everything 1s curious. Like Malvolio to greatness, some are born to their position, some achieve it, while others have it thrust upon them because it is their last chance of escaping from starvation. The French lump them all together under the common name of “camelots;” and the name has a singular history. | It comes from the same word as our English “cam- let,” which was a cheap and nasty kiad of cloth made out of wool and silk and cotton wastes mixed with goat's hair. Then, as these famous “articles of Paris’ were quick-made by hand, cheap, and hawked about the name of “‘camelotee” was given to them all, and the seller became a “camelot.”” Queer Newspaper Ordinance. And, finally, when civilization triumphed in the newspaper sold in the same way about the streets, Paris intrusted the sale to these same camelots. Newspaper boys there are none in the great city, but men, in their untidy gray suits and caps, pass, crying their papers with the same little speeches to draw attention. They would say more if they dared, as they do for their other wares, but the police ordinance forbids them to call-out the nature of the news they sell. “La Presse—edition of 8 e’clock!’ Later on {i will be: “Ten o'clock edition—Last debates of pariiiment!” For the session has fly-leaves as early as 5 o'clock, when only @ part of the races have been run. Now the full results are known, and the little shopkeepers who are here taking the fresh air can find out if they have won on lost on the pool tickets bought at the wine mer- chant’s or from the old woman at the news stand; and so can the butcher’s boy, and the bonne with whom he is flirting as they walk along the pave, for they all bet, or intend to do.so another day, and they keep track of the racing stables. The seller of the news from the latest race is himself a character, and has the air of a decayed bookmaker interested in kis job He must be unusually down on his luck, for hat and coat are far gone in the genetal decay. But the falling ends of the mustache and the cynical look of a man who has known the passion in bright- or days mark him out as he passes. Up to 1 in the Morning. It would be curious to know the story of these lives. Where little toys are sold, or other “articles de Paris," the vendor is often of the family of the maker. During the morning they toil at their handiwork, in which the art and wit and ingenuity of the Parts artisan have taken their last refuge in these days of machine-made uni- Full Account of the Races. formity. Then, all through the afternoon and long evening, until the electric lights go out and at 1 o'clock in the morning, they hawk their war long the Boule- yard and in front of eve frequented cafe. The sellers of literature have drifted into the employment for want of something else to do, like Longfellow’s nuns, who tried their hands at Christmas songs. “The masterpieces of art—painting and sculpture—of the selons of 1507.” It is a neatly dressed man who has been selling these albums of engravings, cheap coilec- tions of music and paper-bound panorama views for many a year. The price ranges from a franc—twenty cents—down; the regular price of the toy is only ten. Per- haps this is why his dress and air show a higher class of society—a social distinction for ten cents! And perhaps this is why the mustaches of the decayed bookmaker take on a more cynical droop, as he calls out his two-cent “complet des courses!” “The Japanese cock in parchment—blown suddenly from its own sheil and crowing— for a surprise in society—ten cents!” It is a white egg at the end of a pipe- stem, which the hawker puts to his lips, blowing vigorously. Out springs a Japanese paper cock, inflated with its bright colors and giving vent to a shrill whistle. This is several years old, but there are always children to demand it. It is followed by “the Httle north wind cigar fan,” and the good-looking young man who selis it holds out a long cigar,which suddenly discharges at you a wheel-fan, in gay-colored paper, with which he fans himself gracefully. “The marvelous ball of Robert Houdin.” This is a scientific toy, as there are so many nowadays, A red ball, like a glass taw, is blown from a pipe and kept bal- ancing In the alr. “Simple and easy: to work,” assures the smart young man who sells it. “Toothpicks, mounted in tortoise shell— two cents!” Until this summer, when trade is dull, because English and Americans are all in London to see the queen's jubilee, these toothpicks, three to one handle, were three cents—a fall in price which no pro- tective tariff will prevent. The seller is also the maker, and has beaten these pav- The Seller is ns Exotic as His Frait. ing stones, as he wanders up and down with his wares, for as long as the writer remembers Paris. Wiles of the Flower Woman. If we were not out to see the hawkers, a glance might be given to the people of the crowd in which they come and go, and which equally with them form the passing show that ts the charm of this outdoor life of the Boulevard. It is made up of young and old, all sorts and conditions = = especially of women, many of whom nace no abhor place ih which to show off their few fine feathers. But the hawkers are a sufficient study by themselves for a single evening. A bareheaded flower wo- man, with cheeks hard, like pippins, and a shrewd look, goes along, forcing her bou- quets of drooping roses on the attention of every young man who sits at a table in company with a girl She knows how easy it is to shame our weaker sex into money- spending when women are along to observe with superior eyes. “Pernuts—good to eat!" The assurance seems necessary, for every one looks .curl- o.gly into the little basket in which they are offered. After many years of Paris life it is-the first time I have seen them hawked along the streets. The seller is as exotic a3 his fruit. He is evidently a Jew from Algiers, old, bent, with a venerable gray beard and a gay red fez on his head. His mouth opens in a curve which ex- Presses how it waters at the thought of peanuts to eat. A young Frenchwoman asks him to show her how the strange thing works, and his grin broadens until all his gums are bare. He points to them, with their smooth, toothless rows, to stow why he does not eat the uta, which, however, he recommen She Jooks doubtfully and shakes her head. It weuld be the same if chewing gum had been offered her. She is prudent—she never saw the like! The oriental laughs merrily bent, worn man with a little tub of olives, to excite the thirst of a people that drink Sweetened water as a summer beverage, with Munich beer for their strong drink. Are Not Tramps. Up against a tree—red-eyed, hands in Pocket, with battered hat, and clothes the worse for wear, a man vho has nothing to sell, and clearly nothing wherewithal to buy—looks in‘turn at the vendors and at the envied rich, who are able to sit here all the long summer evening for a dis- bursement ef a few cents. Is he an an- archist, brooding over schemes of ven- geance against these class distinctions, which have left him without the sou? His nese is red, like a last rose of summer. A little boy passes with terra cotta statuettes on his head! “A tramp-locking crowd, says the American at my elbow. But the: are not tramps; are they not earning their living, except the red-nosed one? And now there comes the last of these workmen of the night—one who sells not to the rich at the cafe tables, yet lives off them. He is a sturdy figure of an old man, and he straightens himself worthily as he sees the artist catching him. With a bent pin at the end of his stick he spears the cigar butts and cigarette stumps which are thrown dowm by those who sit and smoke and listen to the hewkers’ cries. Skillfully, with the courtesy of long prac- tice, he thrusts his rod where he spies his prey, which he knows as “megots,” but which the American picturesque! ie- nates “snipe-picking.”” His capacious pock- et is distended with his spoils. They are first for his own con:umption and then for his livelihood. When he is home he will sort out and clean his motley tobacco of many brands, make it into new blends and peddle {t cauticusly round in the cafes where men like himself and the hawkers take their own ease. Some of the blends should be rich and rare, for smoke from every sort of the weed is borne into the summer air along these cafes of the rich bouleverdier. As a trade, the selling of tais refuse tobacco is a direct infringe- ment of the government monopoly. But the shipe-picker’s winnings are too modest to come often under the eyes of the detec- tives, and there is neither law nor ill will of the police to prevent his hunt along the Boulevard pave. Like the hawkers, he is one of its daily and nightly features, and the tourist who tries to see Paris here where it is most ftself will soon learn to know him. STERLING HEILIG. ——— A LITERARY WoMmAN. She Surgests an Entirely New Method for Taking Care of a Mortgage. From the New York Sun. e As the reporter stepped into a well-known lawyer's office yesterday afternoon he met a lady coming out and spoke to her. He really wished to talk to her a moment on some literary work in which she was in- terested, being a writer of some note, but there was a disturbed and uncomfortable leok in her eyes and about the corners of her mouth which decided him to wait until a more auspicious occasion. So he merely bowed and passed on into the office where he met the lawyer, who also showed signs of perturbation, “By Jove!” exclaimed the attorney with sincere emphasis. “if there is anything more than any other thing that will provoke a man in elghteen places at once, it is to have some woman or other tell him what his business is when he knows more about it in a minute than forty women know in a thousand years: and that one who just went out of here is one of them.” Of course this wiid foaming of speech rather excited the reporter's curiosity, and he asked for a few more scattering particu- lars which he might put together at his leisure. “Well, she's a lterary woman, as you know,” said the lawyer, “and as far as literature goes she's all right, ard I haven't a word to say. But what does she know about the law?” The reporter shook his head, because if the attorney didn’t know he, the reporter, did _not. “That's what I say,” continued the law- yer, “and, by Jove, she came in here to con- sult me about a mortgage she had received on a loan of four thousand and odd dol- lars that she was frightened about and insisted op my having the mortgage copy- righted so she would be protected by pre- venting the mortgagor from writing any more like it. Now what do you think of that? Copywriting a mortgage! Didn't 1 tell you she was all right in literature, but isn’t any earthly good in law? right a mortgage! the reporter got an Injunction on him in time to prevent his saying what he wanted to and might have been justified in saying. SES THE ROOTER’S MISTAKE, Mistook a Sparrow for the Ball and Became Greatly Excited. From the Hartford Times. He was a rooter, if there ever was one. His enthusiasm was at boiling heat all the time. He rooted with joy when the home team scored, and he rooted in disgust when the opposing nine added to its score. In every mcvement of either team he saw an occasion for rcoting. He knew the game ani understoed it—at least, ne thought he id. He made his comments, whether those around him liked his complaints or not. The rooter always claimed the right to be the critic of every one connected with the game. from the lordly umpire to the mas- cot who hasn't yet reached his teens, and in-luding the barefooted, ragge] urchin who gains admission to the game by r2coy- ering the ball that was baticd over the fence. Our particular rooter exercised this rignt, not bothering himself a bit waecher it was allowed or not. The resuit of the game was in doubt, and the interest was intense. The Hartfords were in the field and the opposing nine were at the bat. A batter made a “swipe” at the bail as it came iike a shot from the hand of Vickery, winding into a graceful inshoot when it reached the home ate. The bat whistled through the air, but didn’t come within hailing distance of the ball. Just then a sparrow rose from the turf and tlew toward the left field. The death- like silence was broken by the rooter shouting: “Go for it, Pettit!” Every eye was turned toward the place from which the loud bass voice of the rooter came, and every one wondered. Bob didn't obey the command of the rooter, and this made the rooter mad. He began to abuse Pettit, and for a minute Bob's reputation as a base ball player suf- fered. “What did you want to have him go for?” asked a person who was sitting near the censorious critic. “Why, the ball that was batted into left field.”” “The ball! Why, you blankety blanked —- that was a sparrow,” replied the other. ‘The rooter’s rooting ceased. ss London has added to its parks until they occupy a fourth of the city’s area. They have added to the health and prosperity of the metropolis, and the Londoners could not be persuaded to part with any of them. jon account of ; will appear in Harper's Magazi ART AND ARTISTS The work of Miss Elizabeth Nourse has become so familiar to the publle through the many specimens that have been ex- hibited in this city, and the artist has so many friends here, that news of her suc- cesses in the world of art is always wel- come. The most recent honor that has fal- len to her is the medal awarded at the Nashville exposition for her genre subject. This is the branch of art that she has chosen and followed continually, whether working in her studio in Paris or traveling in Holland, Italy or Tunis. A notable ex- ample of her work in genre painting, a canvas entitled “Mother and Children,” Was presented a few days ago to the Art Institute in Chicago. The picture is de- scribed as being flawless in composition and subtle in its effect of gight and shade, a thoroughly representative work from the artist whom a great critic has called the strongest woman painter now living. It would be hard to count the number of times that she has painted this subject in different ways, one of the private galleries here possessing an unusually good exam- ple, and she always approaches the theme with a sympathy that invests it with a peculiar charm. She at least has a full un- derstanding of what Millet meant when he said that all beauty in expression, and that if he wished to make a woman beau- tiful, it would be by the look with which she bends over her child. * ** Mr. Dunbar is comfortably fixed in his new studio, which is located on G street near the corner of 17th, only a few steps from the old work room that he occupied so long. He has recently finished the small bust cf the late Maj. Cranford, which he commenced many months ago. It ts a characteristic likeness, and the head {s modeled In a sharp, decisive way. The sculptor plans to do mainly reHef work this summer, but he has in prospect fig- ures of his two sons that he expects to execute in the round. * Mr. W. W. Christmas has finished an ex- tremely effective marine from some of the studies he made at Ocean City. No land is anywhere in sight; it is a study of a wide expanse of sea, alone, and to catch the color and movement of the waves has heen the art s chief care. The canvas shows the eastern horizon tn the late af- ternoon, when the sky has taken on a@ faint rosy tinge from the reddish glow of the sinking sun. The water has a lively opalescent coloring, Mr. Christmas has given this effect by tion of all manner of hues. Taken ther, the marine is a subject which is thoroughly pleasing and at the same time impressu one with its fidelity to nature. x ~_* Mr. George Gibbs is at present principally occupied with the important series of drawings that he has been doing for the Illustrated American of sights and scenes in Washington. His streng gouache draw- ing entitled “The Supreme Court's Stately Procession from the Robing Room to the Bench” appears in this week's issue, and he Is now at work upon an Mllustration showing a gathering on the south porch of the White House. About one-half of the series of drawings still remains to be done, and while finishing these from time to time Mr. Gibbs will aiso carry forward a set of marine illustrations. He handles uache with great skill, the grouping ana arrangement of the ficures in his composi- tions making them very telling. With ail the block and white work that he has on hand he does not neglect his color work, and he hes now upen his easel a large pas- tel called “Off the Banks,” showing a fish- ing schooner pitching in @ heavy si svn is just rising above the horizon be! the boat, and the shimmer of light upon the water and the radiance in the sky are problems well dealt with. * *** The most recent of the miniatures that Mrs. 8. M. Fasset has done ts a likeness of Mr. N. P. Fasset, a notably good speci- men of her work in this direction. The strong Whittier-like head, the benevolent brown eyes, the lips with their gentle yet resolute lines and the silvered hair and beard, all tend to make the subject an ex- tremely Inte-esting one, and Mrs. et has handled it very successfully. A life- size ofi portrait that she plans to resume before very loog is the likeness of Dr. Swormstedt. Though as yet hardly more than blocked in, it is a good likeness, a fact which promises well for the result_ when the refining touches have been placed upon it. The artist expects to remain in the city for the greater part of the summer, end has laid out for herself quite a number of things to accomplish, cne of these being | the painting of the portrait of Lincoln, which {s to be as a companion piece to her Ukeness of Grant. x* * - Miss Mary Berri Chapman has succeeded in doing quite a good deal of work during the past few months, in spite of unfavor- able circumstances, but she has been €s- pecially handicapped for a week or 80 atin ¢ divides her time about equally between literary end artistic werk, being one of those fortunate people who find equal ease of expression with the pen or with the pencil. Her la est story, entitled Fasiionable i gust. As soon as her health permits she expects to leave the city for the summer. * x * “Mr. William Haskell Coffin has just re- turned from the west, where he was busy making sketches for the setting for bis large Indian picture. It commemorates the treaty with the Pawnees, and is to be placed in the Ubrary at Nebraska City. He has studied the landscape from the actual scene, and plans by the use of Indian models to execute the piciure with all pos- sible fidelity. Mr, Coffia is now at work upon a half-length portrait of Miss Daw- son, which promises to rank with the best things he has done *n that In the first place, by catching a thoro: acteristic pose, he nas made the likeness more than usually telling, and the figure has none of the stiffness that is so com- mon in portraiture. It is well placed on the canvas, and the lines of the figure, the curve of the neck and shoulders, the sweep of the dress, give the composition a sin- uous grace. ‘The hair ts very simply and effectively managed, and the flesh tints are as true as anything he has ever done. * ~_* Today the last opportunity of the sum- mer was given to those who wished to make a final tour around the Corcoran Art Gallery before it closed for the season. It will rot be again op2a to visitors until after September 20, From the Fitegende Bintter. MALICIOUS COMPARISON.