Evening Star Newspaper, November 20, 1897, Page 14

Written for fhe Evening Star. “It would be interesting r to a Star reporter, “if some one id an old the- ater-g¢ would prepare zn article on the early the- aters of Washington. If it is not done soon much of the material will be lost, for the very old theater-goers are rapidly passing away. Mr. Jefferson's remark, last week, that he first played Caleb Plummer in the “Cricket on the Hearth” in this city rs ago brought to my mind the at I saw him in the very perform- he spoke of. It was in the old Washington Theater, at the corner of 11th and C, which has been modernized into the Lyceum. I also saw Mr. Jefferson play the same character in what was known as Walker's Winter Circus, over forty years ago. Walker's Circus ran for several sea- sons. It was in what is now a livery stable on C street between 4% and 6th streets, in the rear and to the east of the National Hotel. His father and mother were both engaged there, his father being the stage manager. The performance was not strict- ly a theatrical one, for between the acts or at intervals during the plays there che stage was moved away and a regular cir- | cus performance took place in the ring. The Jeffersons also played in a theater at the corner of Louisiana avenue and 4% street, which is now and has been for over thirty-five years known as the Bradley law building. he theater was small, but it accommodated all who desired to attend. The Washington Theater was burned in 183), and it was not rebuilt for nearly ten ye Building I refer to at the corner of Louls- jana avenue and 41% streets was used. A history of the old Canterbury on Louisiana avenue between 4% and 6th streets would be of great interest. The building was originally a headquarters for a military or- ganization and was transformed into a theater by Col.'Wm. E. Sinn. The per- formances there were of the variety order, now known as vaudeville, though man; dramas entire were produced there. 1, at the corne 414 street and Penn- sylvania avenue, w: one time a theater, t was principally used for minstrel ies. The original Christy Minstrels in this hall, as they did another season in what was then know Iron sylvania avenue between 9th streets, afterward known as Hall. This was a favorite hall trel performances. also w s Hall, avenu® neg on the south n Emerson first ance as a r very well. § lery on Market s way was at Odd Fellows’ Hall at a be: perf e. Lremember that Mr. Coombs J me that he paid 73 cents for the ir of red-spangled pants that Emer- er wore on any stage. Metropolitan ably took in more money of the war thar. any other ment in the was on - of the avenue, next to the office the site of the new ling. At the Metropolitan, as 3 of all ki rece sing the 2 n it was torn down, Wh Metropolitan Hall had chai its name to the Globe Tkeater. Another place of amuse- whi 1a great deal of busin a few doors be sav: s der, though now a drama produced ther » seems:to hav entirely for- 10x. office a plac t Hall in notice, for I and perform- audevill ly good play s and f the nds 0 pund u present © of many fer there were mi during the first three time ing was destroyed by fire. circus was located there for one entire si played a Tom King’ prope: ct were y a matter ¢ of early Mue memory, fi , that to the typewriter ittorne to a Star rer E > mant a to get such a good hoid aut it difficult to There s in the air now, however, year a break-will octur im the combination prices ter which will the 5 bicycle. Only two years ago, you remember, the bicyc rpora- n official edict that, let come there w usiness reasons r wontd le nd never could be prices. Notwithstand- ge of prices for e fifty per cent, and top. Even the bicyele manufac age to get three good me or turke on Sund 5 Out a typewriter is A dropped ¢ where it wili ed prices Is cost of turni ot larg: cle by d but the id rate $100 the lec type- a combi nas far 1. One of the le: ¢ $100 to and to reach tho ose of smalier given notice of its inten- rawing out of the combination TY next. If this oc and it uch” more prot did the +k in the bicycle business, the price of sriters will drop even more than fifty cent, as did the cles. If a break ‘ takes place in the typewriter com- Nnstion. the lower price will be reached much aire ; rapidly than followed in the Dicy cle. episodes-@f course, this break will be denied ever more strenuously than was that in the case “of the bicycle, but the Same rexsons will bring it about. The users of typewriters have got an inkling of what 1s to take place, typewriters for the falien Wai rewa ud the tles 0} ve e ey are k, and they will be * * “Di weddings are about the most painful experiences that a clergyman has to go through,” remarked a well- known church pasier.to a Star reporter; “and though, happily, they do not occur frequentlythey now afid then take place. In my experience I have had several, and they left strong impressions on me. One ot them that 4 spectally ¥émember waz the case of a young Jacy in.East Washinton, who had Invited me to solemnize her mar- riage. The man in the“tase was a former army officer, who resided in Natick. Mass., but who had done duty a long time in San INGS HEARD It was during this time that the | a {to wv as that of turning out a first -rate | AND “SEEN Francisco. I had not the stightest idea but that everything would transpire as ar- rarged until I reached the house of the father of the lady, where the ceremony Was to take place. When I arrived there the larger part of the company invited was already in the parlors. The expectant bri¢e was upstairs in her room, and was being aitired for the occasion, assisted by several of her lady friends. Soon after I got in the house one of the gentlemen in the room told me quietly that he had good reasons for believing that there would be a disappointment in the wedding, for the reason that he did not think the groom ould put in an appearance. He also told me that he would forbid the bans should the man arrive, for he personally knew that the man was married, and that his wife was living. He showed me a letter from the man’s wife, of a very recent dat Tue wife was in San Francisco, and had written to him for a loan of money with hich she could come east. In the letter ¢ spoke of the terrible treatment she had received from her husband and of his ras- cality in general. Under the circumstances, I asked to see the bride expectant, and plainly told her what I had been told. She said in reply that she had every confidence | that the statements her expectant husband had de to her were true, and that the woman in question who had written the letter was not his wife. “I told her that I regarded the informa- tion as reliable and if the bans of marriage were forbidden, under the circumstances, I would decline to proceed. for I was assured by two gentlemen in the house, both of whom I knew to be responsible, that the man had a wife living and that there had been no @fvorce proceedings. She begge of me not to arrive at any conclusions un- til I had had a talk with the captain, for that was his military title. Thinking that possibly I might have rade a mistake In my judgment, I went down into the parlor, and with the remainder of the company waited for the appointed hour, 8 o'clock, rather nervously. The man did not appear, and after waiting a half hour, the company was dispersed. Three days afterward the man called on me and admitted that his wife was living. He said he could not un- derstand why he had ever promised to marry the young lady, but his looks and conduct satisfied me that he was an adven- turer. Now, listen to the ending of the case. The lady has never been married since, and was glad she escaped so fortu- nately. It was different with the captain, however. In less than six weeks he was married to a widow, the owner of a large boarding house in an eastern city. The gentleman who told me about him heard of it and wrote to the woman. asking if it was true, informing her of all the facts in | the case, and giving her the address of the | original wife. so that she could get any further infurmation she desired on thé subject. She did get further information and conclusive information that she had been imposed upon. By this time, how- ever, some of her property had been signed | over to him. but he had not disposed of it, and she determined he should not. Soon | afterward T was told the captain, instead of | waking up one morning, in the words of | Dion Bouicicault, ‘found himself dead.’ | There was a suspicion that the woman who } had been imposed upon had given him poison in his coffee. There was a kind of an investigation into the case, but a con- ; clusion was reached that it was suicide. Anyhow, he had not disposed of any of the | Widow's property, and she was as well off firancially as if she had not met the cap- in, other than the expense of boarding him four weeks before the marriage and | for six weeks afterward.” * OK “While up in St. "s, Canada, re- volunteered a merchant to a Star teporter, “I ran acrcss-quite a colony of colored people, the parents of whom, some of them still living. were originally resi- dents of this city. Inquirirg into the mat- ter from one of them, I learned that they were originally sl ‘s here, and ran away to Canada to secure freedom. One of the men, Wm. Thempson, said he belonged to a Col. Hill, whose farm was located where Highland Terrace now is, corner of Massa- chusetts avenue and 4th street. An- ether belonged to the late Capt. John B. Blake, who was superintendent of public buildings and grounds for many years, or {to some one connected with his family. Three of the men cscaped together,- being aided by a Dr. Breed of this city and the late Mr. Lewis Clephane. On arriving there they were joined by three other slaves from Alexandria, and one or two from Rich- mond. Financially, they seemed to have Frospered remarkably well. The man I talked to, Thompson, though now very old, is quite active, and owns and runs three or fcur large wagons, which are used in cart- ing coal from th ailread depot to the town of St. Catherine's and to the adjoin- ing country. His children, one of his daugh- ters being a school teacher and the son 2 Prosperous barber, I met.- Another daugh- ter has raised a mily near by. He said he attended the Methodist Church at Ist nd B streets southw t the foot of the ons of the Tin- Ambushes, Cookcs, and especially the r of them, Rev. John Cooke, who founded the Fifteenth Street Presbyterian | Church; the Joneses of Georgetown,Tolberts others. The old man said he had al- been anxious to get another look at | hington, but had always been kept so busy that he did not get a chance. He however, he had promised he would ake one daughter and two or three of the grandchildren down to Washington during the coming Christmas times, if coal haul- ing didn’t prevent. His son, he said, and the other daughter had constantly declined it Washington, though he had often them to do so.” — A Matter of Wonder. Two men were walking along G strect at a quiet time of the day, and a man was walking only a short distance in front of | them. Presently, in line with their talk, one of the men remarked: “Well, she is one of the cantank<rousesi | females I ever knew.” The man in front whirled around sud- dent) “What do you mean by talking about my wife, sir?” he exclaimed excitedly. “What the deuce do you mean by jump- | sa asked ing at me lke that?” snorted the startled | man in the rear, going back on his pastern | joints. “What did you say, sir?” 1 merely said that a lady of my ac- avaintance was the most cantankerous ;temale I ever met.” ir, what do you mean by saying | “But you were speaking of my wif |. “I was doing nothing of the kind. | know your wife, any more than I | you.” | The man seemed to have been struck by |a ray of revelation. He stopped, stepped | back. rubbed his head, bowed and smiled an smile. “I beg your pardon,” he said, with a sweet submissive gentleness. “I' thought | there was only one like her in all the world. You have my sympathy. Good morning.” And with never a word as to who he was or whence he came, he hurried away and was lost among thé passers on the streets. don’t | know T Flora (who has aspirations)="Tidn't you think women can do a great deal to elevate the stnget ew ee L—“It wouldn't neéessary if they'd lower their hats.” = After the day's racing at the Be D track the other evering a number of horse- a were swapping hard luck stories,’ id Bili Jones chipped in one. = “Th’ toughest luck in me life that I ever run up ag’inst was long "bout th’ of '& or 83, I think It was. ‘Thet_year ‘I had some four or five in trainin’, an’ while they was all good enough, somethin’ nuther was all th’ time throwin’ me down. When th’ horse was fit th’ jock treated me to a pull, aa’ when th’ boy tried all right th’ horse would quit an’ ehuck it up. An” when th’ jock was givin’ me a ride an’ the horse was fit, there was always one or two. in th’ field a leetle fitter. That's th’ way things went ‘long ’til "bout th’ close of th’ season, when I was ‘bout all out an’ a, long, hard winter starin’ in me face. “Well, as you may ‘spose, 1 was "bout desperate like, an’ was undecided whether to sell out an’ quit th’ game or part with:| th’ top of me nead by means of a shot- gun, when "long comes some of th’ boys one day, an’ proposes to give me a pull-off. There was a steeplechase on the card for the next day, an’ they tells me to put old Skinflint in, an’ they’d lay down td him. We talked the thing over, an’ when th’ en- tries clesed there was five horses in fer. that race next day. Old Skinflint wasn’t much, but th’ others were all right, and on paper th’ race looked like to be a great one. “Of course, we kept th’ deal dead quiet, an’ when th’ odds went up th’ bookies chuckled when they wrote 100 to 1 ag’inst old Skinflint. But they didn’t chuckle half as much as me an’ th’ other fellows. Th’ race was cooked an’ dried all right, th" understandin’ bein’ thet th’ other four would pull out an’ go wrong or th’ jocks fall off, an’ let old Skinflint finish ‘lone. Well, th’ boys sends into th’ ring a few dollars on me horse, an’ I rakes together a hundred, th’ bookies givin’ me th’ laugh as they takes me stuff, an’ then makes it 200 to 1 aginst old Skinflint. * “They never tumbled to it, of corse, ‘specially as I hed a sort of crazy stable boy on me horse, an’ wid me tickets callin’ fur $10,000, I hed visions thet ain't to be hed outside a pipe joint. Well, off they started, old Skinflint trailin’ fifteen lengths behind, an’ after clearin’ th’ second jump th’ two in front was pulled outside th’ flags so far thet they couldn't git back in time, an’ at th’ next jump th’ leader bolted all right, th’ jock slippin’ off an’ lettin’ his horse go. Thet left only old Skinflint an’ th’ fourth horse in th’ race, an’ with only one more jump to git over, th’ remainin’ one ag’inst me was pulled so thet he went wrong by an eighth of a mile. “Old Skinflint got over thet last jump all right, an’, when he struck ‘into th’ stretch, th’ horse next to him was a quarter of a mile behind. Seein’ thet, me boy pulled him down an’ walked him in, an’ was just leavin’ th’ scales when th’ next horse fin- ished, followed some forty or fifty lengths back by th’ other two thet hed pulled up an’ then gore th’ right course. I was doin’ th’ chucklin’ act then meself, although I was a leetle uneasy "bout th’ slowness of runnin’ th’ numbers up, an’ I almost ted a stroke of paralysis when th’ numbers did finally go up an’ I seen they hedn’t put my number up ‘tall. ‘Jedzes,’ says I, callin’ their attention to th’ mistake, ‘they’ve got th’ wrong num- be up. I win, you know.” ; ‘Not at all,’ says the jedges; ‘th’ num- bers is all rizht. Thet horse of yourn didn’t finish. ‘ell, gentlemen, you could hev struck me dead an’ I wculdn’t have knowed it; but they was right, all right; fur durn me ef me stable boy jock hedn’t pulled up an’ dismounted afore he crossed th’ wire.’ =o Ee THE FIRST TROTTER. The Gentleman From the Home of the Horse Promulgates a Few Facts. “One reason,” remarked the colonel to a company of interested listeners, “that we raise better horses in Kentucky than are raised anywhere else on earth is that we not only have the water that makes bone because of the lime that is in it, and the finest grass in the world, but we have all over the Blue Grass region, where the great horses come from, an elevation of a thousand feet and more above the sea, which gives just the right kind of air for a horse to breathe to become the right kind of a horse. Did you ever hear of a really great horse bred and born at sea Tevel? “And speaking of horses,” continued the cotoncl, “how many of you know when the first trotting horses—that’s the kind I take to market—made their appearance in this country, or in any country for that mat- ter? Of course, there have always been trotting horses, for that is the animal's natural . but I mean trained trotting horses. li, the father of trotting horses Ww in the United States, and generally, for the trotting horse may be said to have orig- inated in the United States, was Messen- ger, a thoroughbred, imported from Eng- land in 1788 at the age of eight years, and for twenty years thereafter at the stud in the neighborhood of Philadelphia and New York. He was a gray horse with a long pedigree, which included some of the best English ‘strains as well as Arabian, from which he probably took his color. He had a numerous progeny by thoroughbreds and cold-bloods, and almost invariably these latter produced horses which sowed the trotting instinct, and strangely, too, the sons of his thoroughbred sons showed the same trotting quality. It took some time, however, for the trotter to get off of the road and divide turf attraction with the thoroughbred, but it was bound to come, and in the year 1818, ten years after Mes- senger’s death, the first public trotting race of which ‘there is any record in the United States took place, when the gray gelding Boston Blue was matched to trot a mile in three minutes, a feat deemed at that time to be impossible. All the same, the gelding went the mile in less than three, though what the figures were no- body knows, as records were not kept tnen as they are now. sek eS LESSON IN COURTESY. A Woman Who Found It Did Not Pay to Be Rude. A lady who read the story in last Satur- day's Star entitled “Making Life a Bur- den,” relative to the annoyance given households by persistent peddlers, tells a story which serves to illustrate the fact that it is always best to be certain thut the person ringing the doorbell is really. a peddler before he ts treated as such. A number of -years ago, she says, an inci- dent happened which impressed this on. her thoroughly. A friend of hers was going to attend a swell reception one night, and Was very anxious that her silk waist, which she was to wear on the occasion, should be finished and delivered to her ‘in time. As it happened, that afternoon it began raining heavily. The dressmaker became anxious, as she had promised to have the waist at the place in time and did not know at first what to do about it. Her father, who had been in the canvassing business, took the waist in his canvassing, Valise to the house, wrapped up earefully so that it would nox get wet. He arrived. at the house, rang the doorbell; a window in the second story went up and a head vas stuck out. The person to whom the head belonged stated that a number. of peddlers had visited the house during the day, and she had been greatly bothercd by them. “We don’t want to buy anything,” said the lady at the window, “so you had better go away. There have been too many peo- ple here already today who wanted to sell things, and we are sick of them.” Another lady who appeared at the window echoed the same sentiments. As the rain was dripping down on him, the old gentleman felt his dander rise at this, and bracing himself up, said: “Well, madam, I have the silk waist which my daughter has just finished in this valise. I am no canvasser. She sent it, fearing the rain would continue, as che did not wish to disappoint you.” With that he marched down the steps, not waiting for the admonition from above to wait and deliver the goods, and marched straight back to the dressmaker’s with it. The owner of the waist was forted to scnd for it later on, and no doubt learned a les- son that it is better to treat. everybody with courtesy. ——_.—__ “I wish you would be more explicit when you're moralizing to. the children,” said the good wife to her husband. “You told Jimmie last that he must never put shines off til tomorrow. ¥es.”” “Well, the little imp went to bed with Press. ‘wing to the animal’ house look- at the eollection of alligators, when je Profe began to lecture. He ex- that. giligators were like seme peo- le, aber pped down in one position and stay re for maybe twenty-four hours’ wit winking» an eye,“ but all the same they kept a close, watch on the discards 2 the time. Pee There 1§ my! friend Miehael’ Dulin as an example. “Your Michael gators. ttavk. He 4s about eleven feet long anf is ‘anywhere. . ce seventy té"ninety yeal old. Those allfgatore reach- 2 thelr present. positions. bysydifferent leans. Some of them were sent up here m Florida straight.teahe Zao.\Then a good man¥-peop!e when they come north ing a itfle alligatewsfor a pet. They | keep hinraround for a while until he gets “big: enough toy, le ‘out of #he bowl in which theys.xeep him, and Be, step — are féet a few times whet they usually decide that don’t gare ‘mieh about ‘raising an alligator, anyway, and send nim to the Zoo. Mr. 4 uirne kéeps these young outcasts by (es until. they get some size and then they go in the main tank with the otters: Sometimes a miscalcula- tion is made as to the size of a young one, and then there is a mysterious disappear- ance. “You wilt notice that Miehael Dulin at ‘prest? Jooks a little ‘ swelled’ dut and has a rather pensive air. Last night a ycung alligator graduated from the kinder- garten and was pieced in the tank. This morning he was nowhere to be found. That middle-sized lady-gator. oyer ‘there discov- ered the loss. She is a_ sister of Michael Dulin, znd her name is Maria. This morn- ing she looked around and then shrieked: “Where js little Petey?’ “Petey! Pete? Petey? Little Petey who?’ said Michael. Dulin. | “> “Petey, Petey, Petey? Little Petey who?” ed Marla. “Don’t you know that little ‘gator who came in here last night was your own nephew. son of Archibald, your brother, by his second wife, his wife hav- ing been made-up tnto pocket books and hand satchels. That boy was right over beside you tast night, Michael Dulin, and now where in the world can he have got- ten to?” Michael Dulin did not stir for four hours, and then he was heard to murmur sorrow- fully, “My! My! Poor little Petey. My own rephew. Now, why in blazes didn’t that kid tell me his name was Petey Dulin?” Michael Dulin has been in the Zoo sev- eral years now. He was brought up here at the time of the Grand Army encamp- ment by « couple of speculators, who thonght there was money in him. The Grand Army visitors were too busy to waste any time on an alligator, and Michael Dulin Was transferred to Schmid, the bird man, in return for two tickets for Florida. Besides keeping birds, Schmid keeps billy goats, dogs and rabbits. One day Michael Dulin was caught in the act of swallow- ing a small billy goat. Then. Schmid sent him out to the Zoo, asking them to keep him for a few days. Schmid“took a cen- sus of -his stock and found three setter dogs and eight rabbits missing, and then he sent word to the Zoo that they could have Michael Dulin for keeps. You will notice Michael Dulin has only one eye. This is the story that Michael Dulin tells of how he lost his eye: “One day I was lying out on a sand bar in a lagoon ‘down in Florida, when a boat came along with two men and a woman in it. I didp’t..pay much attention to the boat. as I see they didn't have any gun, till just beyond me I see the boat go plunk into a sharp rock, stave her bow in and sink onto*# sand bar in about a foot of water. I knowed there was deep water all around tyat.sand bar, and I swam down then to see if, there wasn’t something in this for me. The three pecple wére stand- ing up and “sHouting all together, but it didn’t do ‘them a particlé of good, a8 there wasn’t any wouse within two miles. Then one of the men got out and started as if he was going to wade or swim, ashore. Then, as Inck would have ft, he ‘saw me and got rightback in the boates” £ + “Those people stayed in that boat ay night, and I. stayed right by them. One of,the men was the ‘woman's husband and the other, was her brother. The next day they. reached the’ coficlision that their “‘only chance was for one of the men to try ta get ashore. “If he could get by “me, all right; if not, he would divert my attention so the other\one would succeed. “Then those men-argued the question of who shculd make the trial. The husband was opposed to going because he was a family man with a wife to support. The brother said he couldn't go because he had a note to meet the next week. The husband said he would mect the note himself, but the brother said when he promised to meet a note he did not leave it to somebody else to meet for him. They argued and argued for two hours, and then somebody suggest- ed that the question be left to the woman. I don't remember who made this proposi tion, but I remember that the husband jumped at it like a fish at a fly and that the brother took it as if he was not half hungry. “The woman, after thinking the matter over for ‘awhile, seid that under all the circumstances she had decided that, with the help of a Divine Providence and the life insurance policy, she might get her- self another husband, but that her parents being dead she could never get another brother, ang that therefore, painful as it might be, she had to decide that her hus- band was elected. “The husband didn’t even say bood-bye to his wife, but took a knife and started for shore. I lost my eye in that fracas, but the husband didn’t reach the bank.” The Philosopher told his class that all this ‘showed that with women husbands are not always ace high, nor brothers deuce low. es 271,560 Miles on a Street € Trem the St. Louls Republic. * Mike Dooley, a St. Louis car driver, has traveled 271,560 miles in thirty-one years, all on one street. Practically’ his entire working life has been passed in this way. Sixty days’ absence because of sickness constitutes the only interim in a long, mo- rotonous career on the front platform. For one other day he was laid off because he was caught.smoking a cigar-while on duty. He holds the record among the s{reet car Grivers of the country .for longest un- broken service. He has worked 265 days in @ year,.and has averaged:twenty-faur miles a day, or 8,670 miles a year. His hours have been +sometimes. all) day’ and’ some- times all night. Just now he is driying an “owl ear, going on duty at midfight. He likes this work ‘and wouldn’t exchange it for that of any street car iman in St. Louis. He has never. regelyed but one price for his labor—$2 a’ day.’ He has therefore received from the, Mistouri Rail- road Company Auris thirty-one “years the sum of $22,650, He has traveled far enough to have completed the circuit of the earth eleven times and a half. : powuis v Her Ruse, o >. From Harper's: Baza “Well,” sald Miss Twittgy: safe now °° inn ‘Safe fiirh WHat?” asked Miss. Kittish. ‘Burglats.”” 1° You {i danger rroiti' burgiars?” J Was. Everybody ig, more or na especially an’ unprotected lady in a big house. I've been, afraid of burglars ever #ince John and his wife went west and,left me by. myself.” 5 “What jpave.you done to insure safety?” have bought four men's hats, of differ- ent styles.and-sizes, and I have hung them on the hat-ack in the hall. When Mr. Burglar. surveys. the array, he will decide that there are|too many men in that house to make bis exploit as safe as he might wish, and@ he, will go on to some otier house. I rather flatter myself that this is @ pretty good:plan. Don’t you think so’ think I am yher had several..of. his fol- tothe Zco the other day. They deserted them for an instant. The govern- as her lover gives her a last kiss. the princess was seen to dry her eyes fro- quently and appeared deeply moved. Did this scene remind her of what the future might have in store?” ess went back alone, and the princess and. her lover fied from Italy and sought a- new hoine lu the domain of Uncle Sam, and at last accounts Don Carlos was not worry- ing himself about his da Twickenhams’ next door and@ left TOO MUCH GRAND OPERA “If the play house which hes been giv- ing nightly performances next to my boarding house is not moved pretty soon, for prohibited, I will have to move my toothbrush and slippers. elsewhere. That's all” The speaker was a young man about town, who looked as if he needed sleep ard rest. The Star reporter to whom he made the statement regarding the play house was surprised: “Why, I thought you were still at the place on J street, between 9th and 10th,’ saic the reporter, knowing that there was no theater in that locality. “I have never left it,” said the young man with the tired expression, “but the play house is there all right. If you oc- c.pied the second-story back room, as I do, you would realize it. Over in an adjoining “back yard is the flat roof of a chicken house, or something of the sort, with a fence around it, the top of the inclosing fence coming flush with the roof. “It makes one of the finest cat theaters you ever saw, and they hold nightly per- formances there, which for all around bum ging and acting would eclinse a band of the Hoota Hoota natives, on a tot of half-night stands through the Upper Congo district, with bread fruit for admis- sion tickets. The performers are hard workers all night, and when they get start- ed on the flat roof of that chicken house, it would take nothing less than an earth- quake to move the performers and audi- ence. Every one of them is a star per- former—right out in the open, you know— and they have lusty voices, which would make the heartiest female baritone sick with envy. “I used to pride myself on the lot of bric- a-brac and knick knacks I had in my room. It loooks now like an empty garret in a deserted tenement. The only thing left, I believe is a giided horse shoe above the door. This, by the way, is securely nailed to the top of the door. The em. bessed inscription ‘Home, Sweet Home, worked by my little sister, and framed for her sake, went out the window long ago, to pay tribute to the voices of the furred Thespians in the adgoining back yard. “The first night a performance was given by the cats I remember I was dreaming that I was up in the Klondike, picking up nuggets on a mountain side. Suddenly I imagined there was an avalanche, and then that I was on a railroad track, with an engine whistling at me fiendishly, only a few feet away. From this I glided into another dream, which was that I was present at the Centenary Concert of the Steam Whistles of the World. “When I became more fully awake I thought that all of the victims of Jack the Ripper had come to life, and he was killing them over again, and they were rehears- ing their shrieks. Murder was being com- mitted, I was certain, but it was only a murder of melodious sound: “The cats had begun their season of grand opera on the roof, and, judging from the number which lined the top of the fence about the roof, it must have been ‘a large and appreciative audience.” The leading tenor was a large black cat, who constantly occupied the cente. of the stage, and lifted up his voice without fear or favor. A bootjack never phased this feline James Owen O'Connor, with the high- pitched voice, and dumb bells, far from making him stop, did not cause him even to hesitate. Occasionally other members of the company would sing their part and the audience wculd join in with a buzz- saw effect, which caused the stone deaf roomer above me to rise and knock at my door to know if gas was not somewhere about the ho: not hear the sounds, taste them. “The only thing I can hope for is that the grand opera may not have a long run, the performers may be taken with a fatal epi- demic, cr the play house burns down. It’s no use to try and drive them away. I have a nice landlady, and like the location of my rooms, but grand cpera every night in seaping se. While he could ne could smell and the week, Sunday not excepted, would wear out the strongest.” INTERESTING, IF PRUE. A Spanish Princess Said to Be Work- ing in Washington. El Tiempo, a newspaper published at Caracas, Venezuela, recently printed a Somewhat sensational account of the al- leged flight to America of a daughter of Don Carlos, the pretender to the Spanish throne, and of her finding final refuge in a millinery store in this city. The fact that the high-born senorita has not yet been found out and interviewed by some Ami can reporter is proof enough that she is not here. Neverthe! El Tiempo man- ages to tell a pretty good story, of which the following is a translaticn “Some days ago we gave an account of the fate which has befallen the Princess Elvira of Bourbon, daughter of Don Carlo: in consequence cf her infatuation for the is now working as a painter Folchi. Sh milliner in Washington, and her patrician fingers are busy putting ribbons, feathers and flowers on the hats ot Yankee ladies. The paper then proceeds to cull, from Italian journals, the following particulars concerning ‘the origin and development of the passion of the Princess de Bourbon for this poor painter. whose skill in his art Was not great enough to secure their sup- port, or prevent his Elvira from being forced to carn her living by working for daily wages in a millin store, “Robert, Duke of Parma, Italy, possesses three magnificent pieces of tapestry, which he inherited from his grandfather, Charl Luis, Duke of Lucca, which he desired to transfer to C le Schwarzen, his Austrian estate. The laws of Italy, however, do not permit the removal of such works of art from that country, and the duke had to content himself with having painted copies made of the tapestri For this undertak- ing he engaged the services of a painter named Folchi, a man of pious and tem- perate disposition, married, and the father of childrea—a person, indeed, well suited to the austere silence of the ducal palace. “Folcht was soon imstalled at his work in the palace, where, by reason of the duke’s continued absence, he enjoyed the greatest freedom. At first he painted faith- fully, but soon he let fall the brushes and engaged in the more agreeable position of walking about the grounds. “On an estate adjoining that of the duke were sojourning the daughters of Dona the Princesses Elvira, Beatrice and » who had gone there in order to be removed as far as possible from their father, whose marriage to Marie de Rohan had greatly incensed them against him. Don Carlos, cn nis part, took not the slightest interest in their doings. “Folchi, the painter, while strolling around that vicinity one day, met them. Prircess Elvira, a girl of exalted and ro- mantic ideas, an admirer of the art of painting, and an incessant reader of poetry Was the one who was most deeply im: pressed by’Folch!, who, in spite of his deep piety of soul, is a very insinuating young man the good Princess Mar- “Her mother, garita, died in 1893, and her father passed his time in Venice, devoted to his new wife and receiving the homage‘ of the Carlists, who went ihere to kiss his hand. “Now began an amorous romance, which filled with pride the young. painter, who was better qualified to feed the flame of a growing passion than to wield the brush of an artist. Thenceforward he never walked alone, but was always accompanied by the princess in his rambles. This naturally caused no end of gossip among the domestics, but the two lovers cared nothing for that. “Meanwhile the Duke of Parma was won- dering when the copies of his tapestries would be ready for Castle Schwarzen. “One evening Princess Elvira and her governess went to Lucca to witness a per- fcrmance of the weil-known opera, ‘Bo- hemian Life.’ Folchi followed, and never ess did not relish his company, but she. was threatened with instant dismissal by her mistress if she raised further objection. “During the scene in the opera in which Mimi, the heroine, dies in a miserable hut To make a long story short, the govern- ughter’s esca) having a good time in- a imgae > Uniers Al Signa Fatt, but was “The expressman has just called at the a foot ball, a wheel, two base ball bats a pack- age of sweaters, a pair.of spoon oars and a bundle of golf stockings. “Then their daughter must be home from college and her education finished.” come?" “Oi argued it out wid meself.” Mr. Dolan arose with a handful of crack- ers, which he proceeded to feed to a par- 2 | rot in the corner. Seen the stormy days an’ fa'r? Had my share o° joy and care; Troubles, as I look again, Don't seem big, like they did then. Things that wouldn't fret me now, Worried lots. I "member how I would stare an’ wish fur day When mother tcok the light eway. Wouldn't let her hear me cry. Waited till she wasn’t nigh. Done the very best I knew . To keep tcars from squeezin’ through. Though they told me nothin’ near Gave a real cause fur fear, How I'd watch the fadin’ ray When mothér took the Light away! “Young man,” remarked Farmer Corn- tessel to hts relative from the city, who hat been atring bis scientific reading, “I don’: undertake (o say yur wrong. But I do sa® as how these fellers that write books, half the time has their minds made up to us- tcnish yer before they start in, an’ I ain't a-goin’ to put my opinion back in the sha fur their'n on a subjeck which a to make no difference in the mart: 0” grain nor the amount o” taxes we “But there are things which they reasoned out, you know.” “Of course. An’ it’s more’n likely tb erect. But it makes me melancholy agree weth ‘em and I ain't goia’ to—not less Igit into a fury-box or some p) like that where what I think about i n't goin price » ha re to on- e is ’Pears that jes’ what you kin bear In the way o' grief’s your share. Knowin’ better now can't make Up fur how I'd lay awake. Wisht I'm heard ‘em tellin’ me “Boyhood’s days is light an’ free,” While I shuddered in dismay When mother teck the light away! Often, when a fond hope dies, Like the light in western skies, In the darkness, though I know Other days will dawn an’ glow, Sorrow seems to come with such A familiar, old-time touch! Seems like helplessly I lay, An’ mother’d took the light away! x A Goslanss Averton. “It's a long toime since ye'’ve been around Rafferty!’ exclaimed Mr. Dolan as his neighbor pushed open the back door entered the kitchen. “It's glad Oi am ee ye!” ty “There's satisfaction welcome,” was the reply with a gravity that was almost morose. “An’ who towld ye ye wouldn't be wel- in knowing Of'm “It's a greddeal iv affection ye hov ty b Mr. Rafferty con- “Oi hope ye foind "is society agree- shtow an thot burd,’ tinued. able “Is it the parrot ye'’re jealous of “Oh, Oi'm jealous iv nothin’ an’ nobod: Only afther seeing’ essary conthradiction ty heart two or three toira Oi wasn’t a bit surprised to rn thot ye made fr’ wid a Poll parrot, who havi ho moind to its own, could be taught ty a swer ye in yer own way whiniver y phoke. That’s how Oi argued it out ty me- self.” ho, thot’s how ye argued it out ty y is it?” “It seemed no more than raysonable.” Raffert in’ to celebrate nksgivin’ this dh, year? is’ OF ate a bit iv turkey, as is proper!” Who towld yez "twor right an’ proper to | ate turkey an’ Thanksgivin?” “It shtards ty rayson. Iverybody doos that way. “Sit down, Rafferty, over here an’ make | frinds wid the parrot an’ let me tell ye somethin’. Don't go ty raysonin’ onless “re prepared ty go ty Some pains ty git at the facts In the case. Raysonin’ widout | plenty tv facts is loike chasin’ Mrs, Mul- | vaney's pig. There's no tellin’ where ‘twill land ye. Whiniver a man comes ty me! tellin’. me somethin’ shtan’s ty rayson he’s li'ble ty lose a vote thin an’ there onless he kin be moighty quick about showin’ me x Raf- rayson..why it shtands ty rayson. ferty, wor ye asleep lasht neight?” ‘Oi wor.” “Oi say ye wor not.” “Oi say ‘Ol wor. ve ain’t sure fv it.” Di kin thrust me own sinses.” Whin ye go ty slape ye lose conscious- ness, don’t ye?” “Iv coorse. “Well, thin; havin’ losht consciousness, how kin ye be conscious iy bein’ une: jous—an’ there's raysonin’ tur ye. Now ty come back. ty the parrot. Ye notice the color iv "im." “Y¥is.”” “4h, Rafferty, no wonder ye got jealous! Ye kin ate:turkey by rayson, next Thank givin’ if ye want; mebbe Oi'll do the sami by way iv a’soide dish. But none-the-less, Orll. go an fattenin’ ‘im an’ thot green burd ‘li be proudly iyin’ in the cinter iv the table an” we'll say it’s geod, if it chokes us!” “ x An Unnoted Martyr. Sing if you will in blithe measures rhetori- cal, Griefs. that. were felt in the far away day: Sorrows “whose bigness has made them historical, But blame not the man who grows tired \ of your lays, Think you that woe in its absclute purity Perfect in quality, and of full weight Never gets ’round to the folk of obscurity? Think you its use is confined to the great? Who couldn’t struggle ‘gainst fortune’s as- perity Knowing a watching world bade him be strong, And rise to eloquence, sure that posterity Waited upon him with story and song? People who know that the books educa- tional : Wil some day award them all talents that be, Moral and martial, likewise educational, Ought to face trouble with positive glee. Greater than Dido, whose fate was con- vertional— Jilted was she by a traveling man— Then Cassius and Brutus in wrath unin- tentional; Or Sampson when shorn by a woman's dread plan, Seen by far, is that man who is grovel- . Close to the coal bin, nor counting the cost, : And finds that the furnace Is covered with frost. _ $ 3 on goin’ to make a whole lot o° difference.” “But the evidence in favor of evolution, for instance, is remarkably strong.” pxounk man, dye see that there hoss?” Rin that there hired man Tes. ‘Well, that hoss’ll work six days a week an’ never murmur. He takes whut's ve him to eat an’ never complains. You ceuidn’t git him inside of a saioo: an’ if you brought somethin’ out of it te drink be wouldn't touch it. He never gits riled in his disposition an’ he wouldn't think o° chewin’ tobacker, or playin’ old sledge fur money. Mebbe the scientists is righ!: neb- be they xin prove all they say, but I don’t krow about our comm’ from (he lower ani- mals, an’ I don’t want to hear it. When I think of anythin’ with as noble an’ ful a character as that of a hoss down into a hired man, it gives m- blues an’ I don't believe in bein’ about nothin’ I can’t help.” * the unhappy * x The One Reservation An elderly business man who is a keen ob- servé@ of human nature and who ts noted for his good-natured oddities, had commended a young man to a friend who needed an employe. He borrow- a lead percif in order to write his address. I hope you will sive him an oppor- tunity to show wh: he can do,” he said, putting the pencil in his pocket. “I think you will like him. He capa- is thoroughly 1 take him back now if you don’t need him He is one of the most competent men in his 1 that I know of.” What I am most 1 a word against it.” is he trustwerthy?” ‘d let him carry a book full of blank ‘ks with my signature on them.” sut you Know how men sometimes di appoint you:'men upon whom you felt sis ari ers which we r garded as “That's true. adamantine kno But he has one of the most natures T ev T have vn him for years an@ I can vouch for which > to appropriate afraid I can't go as far as tha was the hesitating answer. “He's only h man. Before I'd be willing to give 1 ied assurances as to his honesty , him tested with a borrowed —— ROUGH ON THE BIRDS, The St Bae of an Old Man Who Had Luck Raising Peafow!s, ‘0 ma’m,” said the huckster at the ley gate to the lady of the house, who h come out the to ask him a question, “no, ma’am, I haven't got a peafowl on the place, and I don’t think I ever will have.” “I thought you had a large flock,” said the lady, apologetically. “That was two years ago, ma’am. You see, I had bad luck with them. A iittle worst luck I ever had with any poultry I ever raised, and it was so rough on the peacocks, ma'am, seeing as how the pea- such a proud and haughty bird. I know peacocks, ma'am, and I am willing to testify that the American eagle bird is poor white trash compared with the pea- cocks I had on my pia They were bean- tics, too, I can teH you, ma'am, and they had tails on them that would fade a fresh rainbow. ‘They were as long as the trail of one of your best silk dres and drag- ged the ground behind them like the wake of a ship. That was the kind of loo loo birds they were, and I was as proud ot them as they were proud of themselves, ma'am. “But one-night in the late winter of “04 the blow fell that done for my bir and give me @-#et-back in peacock raising that I guess I'll never get over. Me and wife uscd to always take cave of the cocks, and one day in February w to town, expecting to gct home by 4 o'c in the evening, for there wasn’t anyb« there to! look after things, except a h my witted darkey boy we kept to do chores. It was a nice, warm kind of a morning, but by noon it had taken a_ turn like the weather Is apt to do at that on, and there was a cold rain ing that hae turned to driving steet by 2 o'clock. At 3, when we,staried to go home, the streets were so slick our horse coukin't stand up, and by 4 the thermometer had dr: away down below freezing, and it was ting colder eve ute. I left my w in town with her sister, and, putting the horse, 1 went home by train walk of two miles from the station. “When I got home I was that near froze I could hardly stand up, but the boy had a big fire geing, and as soon as I got the chill off I went out to see about the fowls and animals on the pl Everything was up and a locking pretty. well, and there was no harm done until I got back to the yard, and there I fcund my whole ficck of fourteen kpread over the ground like as if a lot of trozen rainbows had been dumped into the y: 2. ¥. had caught the birds. as they stood around waiting for somebody to drive them into shelter, and as it fell upon their long ana beautiful tails it trickled off and froze the feathers to the ground. That done for the birds, ma’am. They couldn't move after that, and when I got to them every proud bird was froze to the ground, and too dead to skin, Do you wonder now, ma‘am, that I have gone out of the peacock business?” and the huckster wiped a tear from his eye. = Fashion Item From Harper's Bazar.