Evening Star Newspaper, November 20, 1897, Page 23

QUAINT OLD HOUSES Homewood, the Shakespearean Village Near New York. COTTAGES LIKE THOSE AT STRATFORD Modern Improvements to Which the Pcet Was a Stranger. IDEAL SUBURBAN VILLAGE geen From the New York Commercial-Advertiser. There is a Shakespearean village of over sixty houses rapidly taking form over in the great borough of Brooklyn. It is the most original and interesting thing in the ‘way of architecture and construction in or around New York today. To be exact, sixty-four houses are nearly finished, and sixty of them are sold to families who are to occupy them on the ist of December. And this is only the beginning of the vil- lage, which will go on growing as fast as the builders can build, until a plot of 530 lots shall have been covered with houses. Homewood is the name of the village, a name that was given to it by the projectors and proprietary company, the City and Suburban Homes Company. This corpora- tion has been heard of before, but chiefly as the projector of an extensive system of improved tenements in the more densely settled sections of New York. The hand of the philanthropist is seen in all its works, and yet there is no word used in a description of its work which it so dislikes to see or hear as that word philanthropy. There are over 450 stockholders in all, per cent of whom own $1,000 or less of the stock and 45 per cent of whom own $100 or less. The shares are issued in denomina- tions of $10 and there are many provident working people among the owners of one, two to ten or more shares. The company pays dividends of 5 per cent on these shares. and calculates to earn 6 per cent, so as to allow of 1 per cent for an annual con- tribution to its reserve. All the stock save a few hundreds of dollars is already issued and earning dividends, but the company expects to issue another. million in the spring, with which to extend its operations into new fields. The company announces as its object the “building of good homes for people of modest means in the Greater About a year ago the company purchasea & tract of 580 lots in the thirtieth ward of Brooklyn. The tract is nearly level, on an elevation which slopes gently toward the southwest. It had for generations been under cultivation as a farm. The forma- tion is all that could be desired for a model Village such as Homewood 1s destined to be. A top layer of sandy clay and vege- table mold of from eighteen inches to three feet rests upon a stratum of coarse gravel, under which is a deep stratum of clean sand. This insures a dry soil at all times. Old English Architecture. Having the entire plot to improve, the company was able to do something that has never before been undértaken in this Vicinity—improve it upon a harmonious architectural plan. In adopting the old English style of cottage house for his gen- eral plan, the architect has given to the city a most delightful example of the pos- sibilities of variety in individual design, with harmony in general plan. The result promises to. be an exceedingly select and picturesque settlement. At first glance at the settlement there appear to be no two houses exactly alike. They vary im size and ih external details in the most pleasing way, yet all are easily seen to be of the same general style of architecture. For the most part the first stories are of brick, the second of timbered framing. with walls finished in stucco; the roofs all of slate, the chimneys all finished with terra cotta flues. Every house has a veranda and most have bays in front or rear. The streets, which are permanently fin- ished. on grade, are sixty feet wide, thirty feet of which is roadway, with fifteen feet on each side for sidewalks and park areas. The streets are macadamized in the very best and most permanent manner, with granite bleck gutters and bluestone curbs. The sidewalks are made with a deep layer of ders, topped out with fine broken stone. Between the sidewalks and the curbs will be broad grass plots, in which shade trees are to be set in rows. The houses are all built fifteen feet back from the street, and are nearly all detached. There are but two double or semi-detached houses among the sixty-four now nearly finished; all the rest are detached houses, each on its individual plot. Instead of fences, hedges are to be planted to define the lot lines. Between the houses the hedges will come out only to the front line, leaving the fifteen-foot space between the houses and the building line for grass areas, shrubbery and flower plots. Conveniences. = The workmanship upon the houses is not excelled In house construction anywhere in New York, Nothing is wasted in ginger- bread work or mere plastic ornamentation. The art and beauty of the building are ex- pressed in the design alone, but that is quite sufficient. The foundations are of brick, twenty-four inches:thick, laid up in cement mortar. The cellars are all con- creted. The framing and floor beams and girders are of selected timber, and strong enough for a warehouse. The plastering is of a kind seldom seen in houses that are built on contract, being of adamant plaster, hard and thick. The trim in all the houses ts of cypress, plain and neat. The upper stories are sheathed with expanded metal lath, upon which a thick coat of ce- ment plaster, or stucco, is laid and worked out perfectly smooth. No other finish ts attempted. but this is preferable in many important respects to a finish of shingle or clap-boarding. » It is tighter‘and more dura- bie, in the first place, impervious to wind or weather, and therefore insures a warm house. It may be whitewashed, but need not be. and requires: no painting or other expensive treatment to keep it from decay. The exposed woodwork 1s all treated with creosote and requires no painting. in general, the Houses are intended to be heaied by furnaces, but there are a few of the larger ones in which the hot water or Steam system of heating will be used. The kitchens are furnished with ranges and porcelain-lined sinks. The laundry tubs will for the most part in the cellars. Every house has a tiled bath room, with porcelain-lined tub, ceramic closet and washstand. The plumbing is of the most substantial character, in keeping with the high class of materials and workmanship throughout all the houses. And features that are seldom seen In New York houses ure the deep windows and wide window shelves common to all the houses. They Suggest many bright pictures of domestic comfort, such as flowers and plants, books, magazines and papers, sewing baskets and fine needlework, and faces expressive of contentment and happiness. Terms of Sale. There are thirty-five different plans of houses to choose from, ranging in size from five rooms and bath to eleven rooms and bath, the first on a twenty-five-foot lot, the last on 60 feet by 100, and in price from $2,400 to $5,100. It is safe to say that if the same houses were attempted to be sold under any other auspices they would cost the buyer from 25 to 331-3 per cent more. ‘The price includes all the cost of street and sidewaik improvement and the laying of water and gas. ‘The company sells these houses from the Plans, to approved applicants, upon a cash payment of 10 per cent and deferred month- ly Payments running through periods of ten, fifteen or twenty years. it recom- mends the longer period. The deferred payments for the twenty-year period, cov- ering Interest and principal, amount to 87.17 per month for each $1,000 of the pur- chase price. Then the buyer is required to carry a life insurance policy equal to the gmount of his purchase, but the company has arranced for a very low rate with once -of the strong New York companies. Of course there is a speculative feature in this sort of house buying, but the company has provided as strongly against speculation in its houses as possible in the form of its contract of sale. Among the sixty buyers who are to take ion of these houses on the first of next month are fourteen letter carriers, five ¢lerks, three policemen, three wo superintendents, two foremen, two po- Mce sergeants, one Heutenant fireman, and an editer, a lawyer, a physician, a proof- reader, a draughtsman, a printer, a type- setter, a cutter, a detective, a +8 pilot, a » @ secretary, a fireman and a widow. This is essentially a co-operative enter- prise. The company which is promoting it has a motive, of course, beyond the mere earning of 5 per cent dividends on its stuck. That it is a noble, humanitarian and com- mendable motive should attract both kinds of patronage—that of subscribers to its shares and that of purchasers of its houses. Its motive is to individualize the homes of the provident industrial masses—to help them who are trying to help themselves. They believe that domestic peace, tranquil- ity and happiness are best assured “where the privacy and sanctity of the home are preserved, amid pleasant. and eongenial surroundings. oo * ETON NO PLACE FOR SNOBS. They Take the Starck Out of. Lord- lings at the English School. | From Frank Leslie's Weekly. : The recent presentation to,Queen. .Vic- toria of the five youngest boys of Eton, of whom Master Cecil “F.°°A. “Walker, twelve years old, -is..the junior, has .set Englishmen now in this country to tell- ing stories of their Eton days, ‘which put ‘a new light on the institution, ~ The general impression is that an Eton boy, coming, as ‘ne does, “almost “exclu- sively from the aristgcratic, classes..of-En- gland, is a rather snobbish person. ~Per- raps he is until it is “taken: out of Aim” in his earlicr days, but “taken out” it surely is. Some of the stories of the reforming Frocesses are very funny. There’s one apocryphal tale that is said to be thor- cvghly characteristic: If not ‘true, it might be. A new boy, a boy of great dignity of manner, :s obrerved wandering about alone. Some older boys, having eyed him from a d:stance, advance. “Who are you?” they ask. “I'm Lord Blark. I've just come.” “Well, who else are you?” “My sister is Lady: Blank.” “Go on.” “My father is the earl of Blank.” “Go on.” “My grandfather is the duke of Blank.” “Ge on” “Go on? What more do you want?" “No more!” they shout, and straight- way they set upon him and skillfully kick him across the playground. “There's one kick for you, that’s a lord!” they cry as they go. “And two for your sister, that’s a lady! There's three for your father, who's an earl, and four for your grandfather, who is a duke; and if you ever put on any more airs around here you'll get it all over again. Do you under- stand?” The present Sir Walter Scott tells the story himself of how he fell into disgrace when he first arrived at Eton. It seems that he was very fond of his grandfather, the old duke of Buccleugh, and used to talk about him a great deai. He was not even sophisticated enough to take warning from the ominous silence that greeted every mention of the ald gentleman's name, but prattled on. Finaily one day the beys. arose en masse. They were at tne top of a long hill when Sir Walter lifted up “his voice in: innocent praise of “my grandfather, the duke.” The first he knew the air was full of fiends who were kicking him down the. hill, screaming at him: “Take that for your grandfather, the duke! Take that for your grandfather, the duke!” é “They kept it up,” he. says, “‘ugtil.I came to my senses enough to cry for mercy. Then they stopped. ‘Did you have enough?’ they satd. ‘All you wanted? I said I had. ‘Well. young fellow, bear it.in mind that it isn’t half of what you'll get if you ever mention your grandfather, ‘the duke, as jong as you're in Eton! This is a boys’ school. It isn’t a schddl for gnobs.’ ———+e+ No Good Map of Cuba From the New York Times. Any landsman who tries. to, buy..a,. good map of Cuba will learn the surprising fact that no such map has ever ‘been matie, and that even its coasts are for the. most part either uncharted at all or charted so’ care- lessly and incorrectly that the captains of vessels in approaching zny except a few of the island’s most important ‘harbors are ferced to rely almest exclusively, on. such information as their own eyes and sounding lines will supply. This may not seem like a very important matter, especially to those who ar accustomed to think of Cuba as an cut-of-the-way part of the wor!d, in which many characteristics of a new and unex- plored region are pardonable. In_ reality, however, this lack of maps and charts shows the quality of the Spanish rule as ciearly as do the murders of non-combat- ants or the wholesale misappropriation of public funds about which every correspond- ent has so much to say. As couatries in the new world go, Cuba is very old. The Spaniards began to explore it in 1492, and since 1511, except for a single year, they have kad uninterrupted possession of it. And in four hundred years they have not had time enough to spare from the task of raining the island’s resources even to sur- vey its coast. The idea of adding Cuba to the civilized world never cecurred to them. The only thought was to establish at Hav- ana and in a few cther places great fort- resses, by which the island could be, not gcverned, but controlled, end anything that would help general commerce was care- fully left undone. ——__-e-_____ Even Princes. Must Be Orderly. From the Boston Journal. ; I see that that admirable nursery law, which vensible American mothers insist upon, of a child picking up its own toys after the day’s play is over, is also en- forced by the nurse’ in the’ royal house of York, in deference to the wishes. of the duchess. The little princes are made to col- lect all their toys, while nursey stands by and directs this first lesson in law and or- der. But the other day all the Yorklngs were at Balmoral, and little Bdward, who was spending the morning with his great- grandmother, was having a lovely time with his bricks and lead soldiers when the door opened and nursey appeared ‘to take him off to his dinner. She glanced at the toys and then at the child, but Prince Ed- ward was not inclined,.to pick them: un. This, he thought, would be a fine time to break the hateful-rules,'and-he stodd tr- resolute, looking first at the playthings and then at granny. .At last, a- happy. thought struck him, and, pointing to the stout, in- firm queen, he exelaimed;-in a-tone haif of entreaty, half of command, “You help me pick them up.” THere is no“donbt but her majesty would have aided her great-grand- son if she could have stooped, for the youngster is the apple of her eye; but, un- der the circumstances, Master Edward was obliged to do it all himself, receiving a lit- tle lecture on “duty,” meanwhile. re Architecture and the Sky-Scrapers. S. H. Capper in the Engineering Magazine. Perhaps to most of those who are suf- ficiently interested, tn. architecture to take heed of contemporary work, the “tall buildings” of New ¥York~and “other cities embody America’s. chief. contribution, to modern architectural advance. They have led te new and ccmplicated problems of construction, solved doubtless with all the energy, the boldness, and the address char- acteristic of Amertean engineering. They w#ls> present esthetic problems of consider- able importance. The problem asking for solution is an eminently modern one. Architecture can- not, on pain of proying untrue to her tra- ditions is a living art,..refuse to entertain it, to grapple with it, a=d eventually to reach a satisfactory solution. We must, I hold, put definitely aside the criticism ‘so often heard: “These tall monstrosities are rot architecture at all; they are only en- sineering, with a stone veneer.” They are buildings of our modern city streets; and, if these be not erchitecture, where, indeed, is modern architecture to find.her place? She is hound to find her own solutions for novel problems, however difficult, and. to achieve a harmony between the require- ments of today and the accepted canons. of artistic sense. It is essentially in respond- ing to the needs of modern, complex life, in interpreting and meting them, that the ‘art itself is modern and living. “ “George Windrig is an enigma to me. Being a preacher’s son that i THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1897-24 PAGES. WIT OF THE WOODS The Wild Turkey Gradually Growing More Scarce. The Cock Feigns Lameness and the Young Ones Pretend to Be Dead —Keen Hearing. From the Chicago Times-Herald. Indians call the. wild turkey the “wit of the woods.” It is the most difficult of game to approach. The most scientitic method of killing it is by “‘calling””—imitat- ing its cry. This is mest efficacious in the spring, when the gobblers call to the hens incessantly in the early morning and at intervals all through the day. The sound may be either a love note or a challenge to @ male. .In either case if well done by the hunter it will prove effective in bringing the bird near to its hidden foe. The best turkey call is made of the wing bone. Sometimes it consists only of a bit of slate and a smoothed twig. The twig when drawn across the slate gives a wonderful imitaticn of the bird’s “cheep.” To call successfully réquires long practice. Some men become so expert that they need only a broad leaf held between the thumbs and applied to the lips. The “challenge call” is made in this way. The gobbler tries hard to prevent the hen nesting. He wants all of her time and attention. He must have an audience for his strutting. After many attempts to escape and more than one beating she will suddenly go violently lame, with a broken wing and a queer leg. This is a favorite trick of gallinaceous females. The quail dces it often to ‘ure marau from her young. The gobbler has no use at all for a lame wife. After prancing around her for a little while and savagely striking her with his wing, he hies himself away into deepest woods, heart whole ani happy. His patient spouse then makes her nest in peace. Her foes are active and she reeds all of her wonderful power of secre- tiveness. Crows and snakes are fond of her eggs. The crow, if he discovers the .est, will wait until the mother vacates :t in search of water and food and then carry away the eggs one at a time. While nest- ing the hens many times fall victims to foxes, wild cats, leopard cats, lynxes or coyotes. The brood when hatched mvust be guarded first of all from the parent gobbler. If he finds it he will decapitate the chicks one after another with his strong beak. This is jealousy. Caught in an open space by a hovering hawk the chicks, at the sound of a peculiar cluck, will stretch themselves upon the ground as if dead, while the mother flees to the undergrowth. The hawk will not eat flesh that he thinks ts carrion. At a signal from the hidden mother the little ones rise and ee to her. The hawk is then out of sight. Some of the things a wild turkey does smack of the reasoning faculty. For {n- stance, a hen will never tread upon the same ground in approaching her nest. She fears to make a path. The ability of the birds to discover danger can hardly be due wholly to sight, phenomenal as it is. Pos- sibly they have a sixth sense. A turkey will detect the movement of a finger 100 yards away. Perfect stillness is the hunt- er’s only chance. Some of them declare that they are afraid to wink one eyelash. As a table bird the wild turkey is much su- perior to its domesticated brother, especial- ly when baked in the ground and steamed all night in its own royal juices. Largest, most beautiful and wariest of our feathered game, he is not, like the quail, a bird of civilization. In’‘all of tie northern and eastern states that were once his home he is becoming scarcer and more scarce. He must have vast stretches of primeval woods for his habitat. When the trees are felled he Beaten back, as the Indifin was beaten back, by the advancing waves of. white men, he has retreated further and further to the south of west. He is still ptentiful in some portions of the Pacific slope, but much of that land Is too bare to suit him. The turkey is not averse to mountains, but prefers the plains. I believe that of all parts of this country where he may still be found in moderate numbers he ts, more com- von in the Rio Grande region. Even there | he is being hunted too much and counties: fiocks have been driven across the river into the wilder parts of Mexico. It is characteristic of the turkey that he can rise for flight when hard pressed only three times in succession. His first flight will probably take him a quarter of a mile, and when he hits the ground the pony and rider will be not more than 150 yards be- hind him, if so far. The next time he will fly not more than 100 yards, and the next not more than forty. He makes two or three spasmodic hops after that, but is barely able to rise from the earth, and then trusts to his legs. Southern negro¢s shoot wild turkeys from V-shaped blinds. The point of the V is to- ward a trenca dug twenty yards away, and in this trench parched corn has been scat- tered. A trail of corn leads up to it. When the flock finds it the heads of the birds be- come interlaced in their greed, and a sin- gle shot sometimes results in the death of a dozen of them. This is not tolerated in Texas. There no man is considered a sportsman who shoots a turkey with any- thing other than a rifle. The log trap is another method of capture. Singularly enough, no member of the gallinaceous family, except the tame chicken, will look down in an attempt to escape from an in- clesure. The turkeys are “tolled” inside of the pen by means of corn. They enter through a passageway cut in the ground under the bottom log. Finding themselves imprisoned, they rush madly round and round until exhausted, looking always for an opening at the top. Quail and grouse may be captured in the same fashion. ——___+e+—____ Kept an Engagement Beok. From the Chicago Times-Herald. In a Chicago book store a new clerk is employed to whom everything is a source of wonder, he being recently transplanted from a prairie home. However, he fs learn- ing, but some of the lessons he receives are applied in an unusual way. For instance: A young woman recently entered the store and asked for an “engagement book.” “Do they have engagement books in Chi- cago?” asked Mr. Innocent, agape with surprise. : “I do,” answered the young woman, “be- cause I have so many engagements that I could not possibly remember them all.” The young man leaned across the counter and asked in a sad and subdued voice: “Do you think it is right? Excuse me, miss, L am new to the ways of Chicago, but isn’t it wicked to trifle with affairs of the heart? Isn't an engagement as solemn as @ marriage?” ‘When the clerk had finished his oration the customer explained as well as she could for laughing the difference between the kind of engagement book he meant and the one she wanted, and a load was lifted from the mind of the conscientious youth who was unused to the ways of Chicago. ——__—_—_—_-e-___ Sunlight Destroys Bacteria. From Popular Selence Monthly. In view of the destructive effect of sun- light, especially of the blue to the ultra- violet rays, upon bacteria in water, Prof. H. Marshall Ward would explain the com- parative freedom of river waters under the blazing hot summer sun from bacteria, as against the more abundant infection of the same waters in winter. Pasteur and Miguel found that the germs floating in the air are, for the most part, dead—killed, the author holds, by the sun. Yeasts which normally vegetate on the exterior of ripen- ing grapes are destroyed, according to Mar- tinaud, if the heat be very intense; and Guinti_ has observed that the of sunlight hinders acetic fermentation. When the typhoid bacillus falls into turbid, dirty water in summer, it finds a congenial prop- agating place. The dirt furnishes it food, absorbs heat to increase the warmth, and keeps off the hostile blue and violet rays. ee New Law Needed. , From the Chicago Evening Post. ‘The bicyclist. was. limping. dies or goes away. | 23 RANDOM VERSE. oul The Slaughter’ o} the Innocents. Written for The Evenfhg Siar, oT EL How strangely love of ornament misleads ‘The fairer, better, Hoftion of our race, ‘Till conscience ofp, to-vanity gives place, Thoughtless accomplfde in what’ barbarous couvy deeds! woh ti a Alas, how many ,-#. harmless wild-bird . ne 9 That its bright spoils may female dress disgrace, [145 While charity im®ain bewails its case, And science for itd;cause as vainly pleads! Ladies, reflect, nbr'more yourselves de- ~ base a: With that which only thoughts of pity breeds; *Gainst cruelty arm-with frowns each love- . ly, face, 4 5 it And’ save the warblers of the woods an oe meads! ’ , ‘Better than of whole species. leave no trace, Go unadorned, or wear a bunch of weeds. il: The wings or stuffed skin of a little bird, I feel“indignant, and I fain would gird At the vain creaturé, in a scornful sonnet. Much marveling how she brings herself to don it; : I muse how.far from true taste. she has erred, And from fine hufnan feeling—in a word, How eyes humane can look with patience on it. *Tis said, a fair though foul Parisian sin- ner For such false garniture first felt a pas- sion— I mean *mong folks who boast. of civili- zation; From love of show methinks there naught could win her; But our fair dames should hold such heartless fashion, Based on the waste of life, in detesta- tion. —W. L. SHOEMAKER. ——___ Au Contraire. Written for The Evening Star, 1. Now the turquoise haze of these autumn days Streams from the wood as a veil Over stubble fields whence the ample yields Have gone to the swinging flail. On the old rail fence in his indolence The lizard sleeps in the sun, And the dead vines swing in a crimson’ string Where the saucy squirrels run. The air ts atune with the mellow croon Of mated doves in their nest, And the pine-cones toss on the velyet moss In the cool breeze from: the west. Where the poplars stark stand up from the park And against the orange sky, ‘There the huddling: Sheep on the upland sleep ¢ While the new moon gleams on high. Ti “Tis the dying year, and the plaints we hear Of the sadness of it all Would make one think 6f the grive's sheer brink Z And the'dead weight”pt a pall. For the rhymester sings in his maunder- ings A dirge for the closing scene, Ad hears but a gtéan, or a stified ‘moan In the thrush’s song at t’en. “Ah, not so!” say'T,'ag the days speed by Arg the months ‘aye; running through, For the new year's'ijéy¥ has its own alloy Aid, methinks, a sadness too. ~ * For with it will comé fie plumber to plum’ And the carpenter tovcarp, - And your last year’s wheel is passe you oun feel ’ : In pangs that are deep and sharp. The calendar crank and the note in bank And the New Year's dues end bills, Also “the la grippe’. with the blizzard’s nip And an hundred other ills. i “Nay, nay!” then say I, as the fall days die And the old year’s beard turns gray, “There are dreary times to woo my own rhymes, But they lie some weeks away.” —SAM R. IRELAND. The Charge of Dargai Gap. Bulldogs, hark! Did your courage fail? Bulldogs, hark! Did your glory pale? What of the slander that says “Decayeda!” And “Gone to the dogs since the Light Bri- gade!” S For the blood and bone*that humbled Nap, “Twas there again, boys, in the Dargai Gap! Did you hear the swish of the flying shot? The roll of the drum and the rattle pot? ‘Phe music that rose clear o'er that yell And fhrilled thro’ the ranks and stirred up ell? Come, Highland laddle, head up, step forth! A crown of glory! “Cock of the North!” You “Cock of the North,” aye, pipe away! With both stumps gone, and you won the ja; day! coe You'may lean your backs against comrades ROWS 4; i aa They'll moisten your lips and they'll: kiss - =your -brow, = For they fought like men, and a man may "weep When he lays a man. to his last long sleep. Bulldogs who-sleep on the Dargat Ridge, Fali.in! Quick, march! and over the bridge! The'piper's atiead, arid the same old atr, Po pipe you to heaven and veterans there! And’ you'll tell’ the pullies who humbled 1 Naps. The glorious story of Dargai Gap. ~~~ RICHARD MANSFIEED, =o 4&- Song to the Men Who Lose. Brom: the Boston Traveller, : Here's to the men who lose! What though their work be e'er’ sé nobly Planned, z ri And watched with zeafous care, nN, Fe an halo .crownsg,,,their efforts ana grand: Contempt. is fatlure’s share, Here's to the men who lose! if triumph’s easy Smile our Bie BTR Forno ty gay > Courage is easy thgn3, 4 ‘The king is he who, after ficrce-defeat, Can up and fight aghtn | struggles Here's 'to the men’ Wwhé lose! The'ready plaudits'bY y fawning world. Ring sweet in vict éars; 7The “vanquished” Martters never’ are un- furled— For them there soujd ii} cheers. * Hrere's'to the men wh %0 ‘The touchstone of true worth is not suc- There is a nigher tést=2" ough tate may. gatkdy frown, ohward vig: $0. KOSS, .. “in Be : 2 And bravely do one's best. "tg the vacuuibierptaies that sing e vanqui ses thay And this is the toasf-L ¢hoose: i “A hard-fought is a noble thing; 0 dose." ae Song. THE LIGHT BRIGADE The Famous Oharge at Balaclava Described by a Participant. Thrilling Account of an Officer’s Re- peated Escapes From Death—Sur- wivors Celebrate Anniversary. From the Lonécn Times. Lord Tredegar—the Captain Godfrey Morgar who found himself in charge of the 17th Lancers at Balaclava when all his senior officers were either killed or wound- ed in the famous charge of the Light Bri- gade—has been induced by the Western Mall tc describe what he did and saw on that memorable day. His lordship’s narra- tive, which is publishéd today (the forty- third anniversary of ‘the battle of Bala- clava), is as follows: My first recollection on the eventful morning of October 25, 1854, was turning out before dawn very cold and uncomfort- When I.see flaunting.on a woman's.bonnet | able, but soon after forming up in front of our camp unusual movements were cbserv- ed in the redoubts held by the Turks on the rising ground cn our left front, a it was not long before we felt that something out of the common was going to happen cn that side of Balaclava. We had not long to wait, as we saw shots striking the redoubts from an invisible enemy the other side of the hill. Soon after this the lances of the Cossacks or other Russian cavalry appeared over the brow surrounding the redoubts, out of which the Turks came running, leaving them in the possession of the Russians. I then saw the Highlanders forming into line in front of Balaclava, and almost immediately they were attack- ed, but they stood their ground, and the Russians did not get very near. At the same time a large body of Russian cavalry came down the hill at the charge, und the heavy cavalry brigade formed at once in line and advanced to meet them. It was a curious sight. They had hardly time to get up a trot when they met the Russians coming down hill. There was a kind of shock as they met, and then the heavens appeared through them. A hand-to-hand fight con- tinued, and then the Russians turned and galloped back. At that moment Captain Morris, who was in command of the 17th said or shouted: “Now is our v’ and then he suggested, I think to Lord Cardigan, our chief, who was just in front of us, that “we ought to follow up the success and complete the recut.” He was told it was not his business, or words to that effect. Captain Morris then turned to the 17th and said: “The 17th shall do it themselves. Seventeenth Lan- cers, advance!” We advanced about a hundred yards, when Lord Cardigan gal- joped up and ordered us_ back into line. We were shortly afterward moved up over the hill and formed up at the head of the valley. When we got there we saw the army, which we afterward knew was that of Liprandi’s masses, at the head of the valley and on its hills to right and left. Some of them were ‘at the redoubts vaca- ted by the Turks. About 11 o'clock an or- der came to Lord Lucan to prevent the enemy carrying off the guns. While stand- ing in position I remarked to poor Webb: “We are in range of them now from that battery on our left.” At that moment we were ordered to ad- vance, and a puff of smoke from the bat- tery alluded to told me that the Russians ought as I did. That first shell burst in the air about 100 yards in front of us. The next one dropped in front of Nolan’s horse and exploded on touching the ground. He uttered a wild yell as his horse turned round, and, with his arms extended, the reins dropped on the animal's neck, he trotted toward us, but in a few yards dropped dead off his horse. I do not im- agine that anybody except those in the front line of the 17th Lancers (3th Light Dragoons) saw what had happened. We went on. When we got about two or three hundred yards the battery of the Russian Horse Artillery opened fire. I do not rec- ollect, hearing a word from anybody as we | }eradually broke from a trot to a canter, though the noise of the striking of mea “nd horses by grape and round shot was deafening, whilst the dust and gravel struck up by the round shot that fell short was almost blinding, and irritated my horse so that I could scarcely hold him at all, But as we came nearer I could see plainly enough, especially when I was «bout a hundred yards from the guns. I appeared to be riding straight on to the muzzle of one of the guns, and I distinct- ly saw the gunner apply his fuse. I shut my eyes then, for I thought that settled the question as far as I was concerned. But the shot just missed me and struck the man on my right full in the chest. In another minute I was on the gun, and the leading Russian’s gray horse, shot, I suppose, with a. pistol by somebody on my right, fell across,my horse, dragging it over with him and pinning me in between the gun and himself. A Russian gunner cn foot at once covered ine with his car- bine. He was just within reach of my word, and I struck him acruss his neck. The blow did not do him much harm, but it disconcerted his aim. At the same time a mounted gunner struck my horse on the forehead with his saber. Spurring “Sir Briggs,” he half jumped, half blundered, over the fallen horses, and then for a short time bolted with ine. I only remember finding myself alone amongst the Russians trying to get out as best I could. This, by some chance, I did, in spite of the at- tempts of the Russians to cut me down. When clear again of the guns I saw two or three of my mer making their way back, and as the fire from both flanks was stili heavy it’was a matter of running the gauntlet again. I have not sufficient rec- ollection of minor incidents to describe them, us probably not two men who were in that charge would describe it in the same way. When I was back pretty near- ly where we started from I found that 1 was the senior officer of those not wounded, and, consequently, in command, there be- ing only two others, both juniors to me, in the same position—Lieutenant Wombwell and Cornet Cleveland (afterward killed at Inkerman). We remained formed up until the evening, when, as the enemy made no further attempt to advance, we returned to our tents, not very far off. The dinner given annually by the Bala- clava Society ‘in commemoration of the charge of the Light Brigade was held at St. James’ Hall op Monday, Mr. H. Her- bert, the president of the society, befhg in the chair. The company, numbering 120, included sixty cf the survivors of the Bala- clava Light Brigade charge The chair- man, in proposing “The Friends of the Light Brigade,” mentioned that Mr. T. H. Roberts had instituted a fund for the re lief of the survivors, many of whom were in extreme old «ge, and were without means of support. Mr. Roberts, in re- sponse, said that the subscriptions to the fund which he had inaugurated now amounted to over £500, and 20 of the sur- vivers were at present in receipt of week- iy allowances. He thought it would be a ‘| national disgrace to allow men who had taken part in such a glorious charge to remain in want. —_——_-o-—____ DREYFUS CANNOT LIVE LONG. He is an Old Man and His Chances * for Release Are Small. Poultney Bigelow in the New York World. There was dining recently at a military | club in London an officer of the German general staff, whose department gave him a-knowledge of the secret service in France. There were English officers pres- ent at this dinner, one of whom asked him if he considered Dreyfus guilty. The Ger- man answered deliberately: “If Dreyfus oad sent any information to the German government I should heard of it. On my word of ports on the way. When they arrive they die off like Now, it appears that Dreyfus is confined ia @ cage even after reaching the island. eor, on St. Helena, walked free, though the island was patrolled by ships of war. He lived the iife of a country gen- 5 horses, servants, attend- ants, secretaries and a physician. He had all the comforts of home, but the ships lay in the offing and the island was patrolied; that was all. in Dreyfus’ case the island is guarded, of course, but even his place of habitation is never free from surveillance. He lives per- petually in the sight of old comrades in arms now turned into jailers. He Is watched night and day, sleeping or waking, by a guard of veterans of the French army, with loaded carbines, and he never leaves his narrow quarters. At first Dreyfus was kept in a hut near the middle of the island, and three others Were built near by for the housing of his watchers. Now a great iron cage has been built entirely about this hut as an addi- tional precaution, for there were rumors of an expected attempt to rescue him. There were people who had an interest in getting him out. It cost $12,000 to build this cage in that out-of-the-way corner of the earth. But having it does not mean any relaxation of the severity of his prison discipline. Day and night one of the soldiers paces about it with shouldered rifle. At frequent inter- vals he is relieved. Sometimes Dreyfvs fs allowed to walk about the island. At such times he can be plainly seen from any part of it, as well as from the Ile Royale and St. Joseph. He is permitted to wear only white clothing, so that he may be more conspicuous. At night he is alwayg in h‘s cage. There are six guards and a corporal. Each of the six patrols four hours out of the twenty-four, in two watches of two hours each. He has plenty of time to rest. He has good pay and his term is short. If he were to stay long on the pestilential island he would die. One man of this guard did go insane after a@ year of it. The man on watch is never permitted’ to sit down. He must literally stand his watch. Dreyfus’ term will be short, too. He ts failing in health. If he were to attem: escape he would be shot imstantly. Man; wouid like to have that happen. They wait for the climate to kill the man. He was placed on the island in 1895. The island where he is incarcerated is so un- healthy that the goats which were once kept there have been removed to another. He looks already like an old man, with bent form, white hair and deep-lined face. No guard ever speaks with him, but he gets books, clothing and delicacies from hi: wite, but mental troubie is doing quite as much to kill him as physical disease. An effort was made sume time ago to have Dreyfus’ wife share his island prison. She is devoted to him. The governor of Guiana refused him this consolation. The devoted woman would gladly have shared his living death. She believes him inno- cent. ———+ee—____ HELPED HIM GET HIS PAY. President Lincoln's Ki; enn to a Tired and Lost Soldier. From the New York Independent. One day in November, of the year re- ferred to President Lincoin had been at the office of the Secretary of War, and was traversing the long halls at the War and Navy building, sedate, unassuming and unattended, when he met a worn soldier, a tattered uniform of blue, evidently at a loss among the many doors along the corridor. For a moment he watched the man as he wandered uncertainly from reint to point, and then accosted him. “My good man, whom do you wish to see?” The soldier looked at his questioner and, noting the kindly interest in his face, re- piied that he was just from the army of the Potomac, having been discharged the day before, upon the expiration of his three Year term of service, that he wished to go to his home in Verment, but that he had been obliged to stop in Washington to get the money that was due him, as the regi- mental paymaster had given him an order for the money, payable in Washington. For hours he had been wandering about the city ard the public buildings, looking for the “officer to whom his order was di- rected, but as yet he had been unable to find him. He had been told that the pay- master general was in this building, and he was now looking for his office. The President’s face beamed. He knew that the paymaster general was not the person who actually paid the individual soldier, and he did not know where the proper officer was to be found, but he did know that through his assistance this tronzed and ragged private, who exempli- fled the great self-sacrificing loyalty of the nation, could be paid, and taking a blink card from his pocket, he held it against the wall and with a short pencil ¥rote upon it as follows: . “This poor seldier is in distress because he can get no pay. Will paymaster gen- eral please have him put on the right track to get his pay. “Nov. 9th, 1864. A. LINCOLN.” Handing this message to the veteran, he directed him where to find the office of the paymaster general and instructed him to present the card at the door. It is unnecessary to state that the sol- dier promptiy obtained his pay and left the capital for his Green mountain home. The Cigarette in Diplomacy. From the Ilustrated American. An attache of one of the legations in Washington said to me the other day: “Diplomacy coukin’t get along without the cigarette. For hundreds of years am- btassadors used the snuff box as a dis- courager of tmpulsiveness and temper. You can’t think of Talleyrand, for in- stance, without his precious snuff box. Recall the paintings and prints of the picturesque old fellow; he seemed to be always offering a pinch of snuff to some other smirking chap. When passions be- came strained, or things that ought not to be said were likely to be forced out by a sly remark of one’s adversary, or an unexpected situation developed, the passing of snuff always gained time. The cigarette does the same business now. The cigar is too big ant too heavy, for many men, but the cigarette is dainty and harmless, and if it does anything,-it steadies the nerve for the time. It is a graceful thing to of- fer: it affords a chance for a polite smile; it helps a fellow to get an impassive face: and most of all It makes him careful in speech. Why the world never will know how often even war has been averted by the cigarette. There is always a war of diplomats Lefore the open war of nations, and that little roll of tobacco has again ard again during the last ten years been a spell of pcace among..ambassadors when irritation had got the better of them and any moment might ‘hear the irrevocable words which would precipitate war. All the sensitiver ess ofa whole nation is some- times tingling in the person of its one am- bassador during a Sritical interview, and I coula teil you strange stories, were I at Uberty, which I have gathered the aiplomatic corps of,.various capitals of how international anger has been soothed by the smoke of.a cigarette.” Chicago will ‘not see the beautiful Cleo de Merode: ‘She has flitted back to Paris because the Americans “have no appre- EMERSON AT HOME Senator Hoar Reveals Some Interest- ing Views of the Philosopher. HEWAS ALWAYS THOROUGHLY HUMAN To His Neighbors He Was Invaria- bly Full of Sympathy. FRIEND OF DANIEL WEBSTER From the New York Tribune. A copy of an article upon. Ralph Waldo Emerson, clipped from the Journal of Edu- cation, a periodical published jn Boston and Chicage, October 14, has been sent to me. Mr. Emerson once said of a sketch of him by a pretty well-known writer, who at- tempted to give the detail of his life and family, that he should think the article had been written by some cook who had listened at the keyhole. That production, however, was at least good-natured. But for this recent one it is hard to find terms adequate to describe its ignorance and ab- surdity. The writer cays: From 1821 to 1832 were the shiftless years of Emerson's life. He drifted and w out of his element in thought and action. Lafayette visited the country in 1824 and al the land was ablaze with en- thusiasm, but Emerson was unmoved by it. Adams, Clay and Jackson made heroic efforts to become President of the United States, but he did not care. Webster made the great speeches of his life in those years, but they affected him not. Thomas Je! ferson aad John Adams died on the Fourth of July, but he mourned not. He Studied Nature. The writer goes on to say that few writers have known so little of nature as he. He never wandered into field or for- est, never plucked flower or twig, never worshiped at the shrine of anything in nature. The only interest he ever had in the soil or its products was in mort- Sages at good interest on scores of farms. He farmed by proxy, and took his inter- est regardless of drouth or insect pests. And so on. Emerson is almost as well known to his countrymen Washington, and it would be as true to say that Washington was un- patriotic, was a coward, took no interest in the old war with France and was an undutiful son and a selfish, grasping cred- itor whose soul was. in bis money bags, as to say what this writer has sald of Emerson. If this journal is to retain the respect of any decent. people, the article will be disavowed and its slanae contradicted. Emerson was, Ithink, as learned’ a natur- alist as we had in Massachusetts in his time. He took his datly rambles in the extensive woods about Concord, most of them alone, though rarely some special favorite was admitted to his. companion- ship, as, for instance, James Russell Low in one walk to the cliffs, which he de- scribes. Compared With ‘Thorenu. He knew the names, habits and baun of all our birds, and was familiar with all cur plants, not only as an obsefver of their growth, but with great scientific pre- cision. I think he was a much better naturatist, so far as scientific knowledge is concerned, than Thoreau. As was his fashion with all his varied knowledge, he used what he needed for the purpdses of his. poetry or his philosophy, and made no further display. To say that Webster's speeches affected him not is specially absurd. They were cn terms of very cordial friendship. Mr. Webster was a guest at his house on one occasion, which 1 remember very distinctly, in my boyhood. Mr. Webster had a great regard for him. I remember that in my childhood Mr. Webster lent Emerson his autobiography in his own handwriting, which in turn Mr. Emerson lent to my sister, who brought it and read it aloud to my father’s household Emerson's brother Charles studied law with Webster, who was exceedingly fond of him, predicted a great success for him, and said, when he was consulted as to where Charles should settle, that it made no difference; if he went io the backwoods of Maine the clients would throng after him. Admiration for Webster. Certainly the writer never read the noble passage about Webster in Emerson's Phi Beta poem of 1834: One portrait—fact or fancy—we may dra A form which Nature cast in the hero’ mold Of them who rescued liberty of old; He, when the rising storm of panty roared, Brought his great forehead to the council board. There, while hotheads perplexed with fear the state, Calm as the morn ihe manly patriot sate; med, when at last his clarion accents broke, 5 As if the conscience of the country spoke. Not on its base. Mpnadnoc surer stood, Than he to common sense and common good. He surely never read the terrible indict- ment, or rather''the terrible judgment, which Emersen rendered after the 7th of March speech. ' rey ears : The writer says that Lafayette’s visit inspired no enthnsti#m Yn’'Kmerson. Has he forgotten the exquisite verse in the hymn entitled “Boston?” wre! O bounteous ‘seas that never fail; O day remembered yet; © happy port that spied the sail Which wafted Lafayette. The writer says that twenty-five years earlier Emerson. would have been worse than a failure, and that he was no greater success in the-pulpit than. in the school room. He was a famous and noble preacher when he left-the- pulpit. :d.myself remem- ber, though I was but a child, the stir in the congregation when he. ed. I can almost hear the rich tones of his voice as be delivered the impressive sermon from the text, “How old art thou?” Ne Money to ‘Lena: Emerson was already becoming one of the famous preachers of his time when he left the pulpit for a wider audience, and the writing of sermons for a -profounder philosephy and a deeper thought. The story of his lending money at inter- est is as absurd as.if it had been told about rill i