Evening Star Newspaper, February 5, 1898, Page 16

B Written for The Evening St CHAPTER XXV—Co ani even more, the tone in end the significant glance red his meaning. The bi I knew of I need not betray nued. His words, nor denounce till he fulfilled it. When would he fulfill He would not empty his bas- ket, but still have scmetling to give when he dealt with the King of France. I won- dered thit he shculd speak to me so open- ly; he knew that I wendered, yet, though ile was bitter, he smiled still. I bowed to him and answered: “I am no talker, sir, of matters too great for me.” “That's well. man of gr. I know you for a gentle- at discretion, and I desire to serve yon. You have something to ask of me, Mr. Dale?" “The smatiest thing in the world for your majesty. and the greatest for me.” “A pactern, thea, that I wish all requests follow. Let me hear it.”* ne more than your majesty’s favor fforts to win the woman whom I oad “It i for my love.” He started a little. and for the first time in all the conversation ceased to fondle the little dog. “The an whom you love? Well, sir, and doe love you?” ‘She has told me so, sir. “Then, at least, she wished you to believe it. Do I know this lady?” vi I answered in a mighty significant tone. He was very visibly perturbed. A man come to his years will see a ready rival in every youth, however little other attraction there may be. But perhaps I had treated him too freely already, and now he used me well. i would keep up the jest no longer. “Once. sir.” I said, “for a while I loved 2 e king loved, even as I drank of But you say once.” he exclaimed, abruptly. he is a great comedian, sir, but I feat conded her efforts badly did not answer for a moment, but be- gan again to play with the dog. Then rais- ing his eyes to mime he said: “You ar well enough; she played divine- d for life, sir.” poor Nel! loves me. ad been cruel to her. y vou with my affair said he softly But I won’ What would ress Gwyn, sir, has been very kind remarked the king. s Ss now and has been I'm glad to hear it. as ¢ was there.” I mean the other, her whom I hom I now woo. I mean Mis- Quinton, joked down and frowned. He he looked up again, frown- 1 a queer smile bent his lips, Py ANTHONY .HOPE COPYRIGHT, 1051 sD OY ANHAWKINS profit to cut it off. That was done once, you remember—" “And here is your majesty on the throne,” interposed Rochester, with a most loyal bow. “James,” said the king, “our friend Mr. Dale desires to wed Mistress Barbara Quin- ton.” Monmouth started violently and turned red. “His admiration for that lady,” continued the king, “has been shared by such high and honorable persons that I cannot doubt it to be well founded. Shall he not then be her husband?” Monmouth’s eyes were fixed on me. I met his glance with an easy smile. Again I felt that I, who had worsted M. de Per- rencourt, need not fear for the Duke of Monmouth. “If there be any man,” observed Roches- ter, “who would love a lady who is not a wife and yet is fit to be his wife, let him take her, in heaven's name. For he might voyage as far in search of another like her as M. de Fontelles must in his search for a perfect king.”” “Shall he not have her, James?” asked the king of his son. : Monmouth understood that the game was lost. “Aye, sir, let him have her,” he answered, mustering a smile. ‘And I hope soon to see your court graced by her presence.”” Well, at this I, most advertently, and by an error in demeanor which I now deplore sincerely, burst into a short, sharp laugh. The king turned to me with raised eye- brows. “Pray, let us hear the jest, Mr. Dale,” said hi “Why, sir,” I answered, “there is no jest. I don't know why I laughed, and I pray your pardon humbly.” “Yet there was something in your mind,” the king insisted. “Then, sir, if I must say it, it was no more than this, if I would not be married in. Calais, neither will Whitehall.” There was a moment's silence. n by Rochester. ‘T am dull,” said he. “TI dor that observation of Mr. Dale’: “That may well be, my lord,” said Charies, and he turned to Monmouth, smil- ing maliciously as he asked, “Are you as I be married in It was "t understand » said in a voice which was most all his smile: remember M. de Perrencourt?” “[ remember M. de Perrencourt very well, sir.” “It was by his choice, not mine, Mr. Dale, that you set out for Calais.” 0 I understood at the time, sir.” “And he is believed, both by himself and others, io choose his men—perhaps you will allow me to say his instruments, Mr. n Christen- tress Quin- uur station.” n any prince ii would ir, she but she is above your station,” he | smiling at my retort, but’ con- ceiving that it needed no answei he's not above your maijesty’s persua- | sion, or, rather, her father ia not. She | ne n in modesty, Mr. Dale.” sir, I, who have drunk of ; but was si- I was conscious on us in wonder t while. 3 were with him, in specul; usiness might be, and th gained me . - , for I fe thoughts of the I had won him to 1 d only leave to lead ith her whom I loved, tting nd nee to my ambition and to the plans which he had ma¢ rning her. I believe that I mi ave claime hold over him, but I would not. n may net levy hush m r the coins seem in his eye: that he might suspect m. k of you or not, and wheth- what I ask of you or not I am if your majesty will not grant it yet in all things that I may be, I am your loyal subjec To all this—perhaps it rang too solemn, as the words of a young ma‘ the moments when his heart are apt to at “MY GOSPEL IS THE EVENING’ STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1898-24 PAGES. head. I bowed, turned again and was gone. Since then I have not seen him, for the paths that crossed diverged again. Yet, as all men know, he carried out his gospel. ‘There he sat till his life’s erd, whether by God's grace or the devil’s help I know not. But there he sat, and never did he empty his basket lest, having given all, ‘he should have nothing to carry to market. It is not for me to judge him now; yet then, when I had the choice set before me, there in his own palace, I had passed my verdict. I do not repent it. For good or evil, in wisdom or in foily, in mere honesty or the exiravagance of sentiment, I had made my choice. I was of the mind of M. de Fon- telles, and I went forth to wait till there should be a king whom a gentleman could serve. Yet to this day I am sorry that he made me tell him of my choice. CHAPTER XXVI. I Come Hom I have written the foregoing for my chil- dren's sake, that they may know that once their. father played some part in great affairs, and rubbing shoulder to shoulder with folk of high degree, bore himself, as I venture to hope, without disgrace, and even with that credit which a ready brain and hand bring to their possessor. Here, then, I might well come to an end and deny myself the pleasure of a last few words indited for my own comfort and to please a greedy recollection. The chil- dren, if they read, will laugh.. Have you rot Seen the mirthful wonder that spreads on a girl’s face when she comes by chance on some relic of her father’s wooing, a faded wreath that he has given her mother or a nosegay tied with a ribbon and a poem attached thereto? She will look in her father’s face and thence to where her mother sits at her needlework just where she has sat at her needlework these twenty years, with her old kind smile and comfort- able ,eyes. The girl loves her, loves her well, but—how. came father to write those words? Fdr mother, though the dearest creature in the world, is not slim nor daz- zling, nor a queen, nor is she Venus her- self, decked in colors of the rainbow, nor a goddess come from heaven to men, nor TO SIT HERE.” dull as my lord here, James, or do you un- derstand what Mr. Dale would say?’ Monmouth’s mood hung in th balance between anger and amusement. I had crossed and thwarted his fancy, but it was not more than a fancy. And I had crossed and thwarted M. de Perr2ncourt’s also, that was balm to his wounds. I do not know that he could have done me harm, and it.was as much from a pure liking for him as froia apprehension of his dis- favor that I re ced when I saw his kindly thoughts triumph and smile come on his li Plague take the fellow,” derstand him. On my life, hi I bowed low to him, i for your und is wearisome,” said he. “Shall we shall walk,” said the a word for Mr. Dale.” s they went he turned to me and said: “Yet will you leave us? I could find work | for you h2re."" 1 did not know what to answer him. He not be emptied,” said he, in a low and cautious voice. “It will be emptied neither for M. de Perrencourt nor the King of Franc2. You look very hard at me, Mr. Dale, but you needn't are ‘o closely. I will tell you t you desire to know. I have had my price, but I do not empty my basket.” Hav- ing said this, he sat leaning his head on his hands, with his ey2s cast up at me from under his swarthy, bushy brows. There was a long silence then between us. For myself, I do not deny that youth- ful ambition again eried to me to take his is moved—he . but, looking up with a said: how swered nothin; whimsical . mn do you love this ‘inton?”" fell suddenly into a great fit nd bashful embarrassment. The * that I had gained at court for- and I was tongue-tied as any On this don't know,” I stammered. es » but I grow old. Pray teil me, Mr. Dale.” he urged, beginning to laugh at my pert tion For my life I could not. that the It seems to me more a man feels a thing the harder it is for him to utter it. Sacred are secret, and the hymn must not rd save by the Deity. king suddenly bent Roch was now Duke of Mon- approach I bowed to the urmed my salute most cava- «4 small reason to be pleased and his brow was puckered. The ned to find h amusement in Pe but he made no remark ng himself to Roches- forward and ter passing by; ing gentleman ely and most what this love fails—and, be- t In case he doesn’t t it is that he feels, I pray you k him ter looked at me with an tronical “Am I to tell what love is?” he asked. “Aye, and with your utmost eloquence,’ d the king, laughing still and zh S ears. face into a grimace lingly at the king. scape; today I am a ty- said the king. g r, then, youths,”" said Rochester, and moothed in a pensive and his « expr gentle sion. “Love is madness and the only sanity, delirium and the only truth. blindness and the only vision, folly and the only wisdom. It is—" He broke off and cried impatiently, “I have forgotten my lord, you never knew what it the king. “Alone of us here, Mr. ws, and since he cannot teil us, the ‘ledge is lost to the world. James, have = any news of my friend, M. de uch news as your majesty has,” an- swered Monmouth. “And I hear that my Lord Carford will not die.” “Let us be as thankful as is fitting for tha id the king. “M. de Fontelles sent me very uncivil message; he is leaving England, and goes, he tells me, to seek a King whom a gentleman may serve.” “ts the gentieman about to kill himself?” asked Rochester, with an affected air of grave concern. “He's an insolent rascal,” cried Mon- mouth angrily. “Will he go back to France?” “Why, yes, in the end, when he has tried the rest of my brethren in Europe. A man’s king is like his nose;-the hose may mot be handsome, James, but it’s small offer, while pride told me that even at Whitehail 1 could guard my honor and all that was mine. 1 could serve him. Since he told me his secrets, he must and would save me. And he had in the end dealt fairly and kindly with me. ‘The king struck his right hand on the arm of his chair suddenly and forcibly. “T sit here,” said he. “It is my work to sit here. My brother has a conscience; how long will he sit her>? James 1s a fool; how long would he sit here? They laugh at me or suarl at me, but here I sit, and here I will sit till my life’s end, by God’s grace or tue devil's help. My gospel is to sit here.” I had never before seen him thus moved, and never had so plain a glimpse of his heart, nor of the resolve which lay beneath his lightness and frivolity. Whence cam2 that one unswerving resolution I know not, yet I do not think that it stood on nothing better than his indolence and a hatred for gcing again on his travels. There was more than that in it; perhaps he se>med to himself to hold a fort, and considered | all stratagems and devices well justified against the enemy. I made him no answer, | but continued to look at him. His passion passed as quickly as it had com>, and he was smiling again, with his ironical smile, as he said to me: “But my gospel need not be yours. Our peths have crossed. They need not run side by side. Come, man, I have spoken to you plainly. Speak plainly to me.” He paused, and then, leaning forward, sald: “Perhaps you are of M. de Fontelles’ mind? Will you join him in his search? Abandon it! You had best go to your home and wait. Heaven may one day send you what you desire. Answer sir: Are you of the Frenchman's mind?" His vo? e now had the ring of command an it, and I could not but answer. And when I cume to answer there was but one thirg to say. He had told me the terms of my service. What was it to me that he sat there, if honor and the kingdom's great- ness, and all that makes a crown worth the wearing must go in order to his sitting there? There rose in me at once an inclina- tion toward him, and a loathing for the gospel that he preached; the last was stronger, and, with a bow, I said: “Aye, sir, I am of M. de Fontelles’ mind.” He heard me lying back in the chatr. He | said nothing, but sighed slightly, puckered his brow an instant, and smiled. Then he held out his hand to me, and I bent and kkiesed it. “Good-bye, Mr. Dale,” said he. “I don’t know how long you'll have to wait, I'm hale and—so’s my brother.” He moved his hand in dismissal, and hav- I turned and ing withdrawn some walked awa! me ispers who I was, why the king had talked so lorg to me and to what service or high office I was destined. salu- the desire of all the world, nor aught else that father calls her in the poem, Indeed, what father wrote is something akin to what the squire slipped into her own hand last night, but ft is a strange strain in which to’ write to mother, the dearest creature in the world, but no, not Venus in her glory, nor the queen of the nymphs. But though the maiden laughs her fathor is not ashamed. He sees still her to whom. he wrote, and when she smiles across the rocm at him and smiles again to see her daughter's wonder, all the years fade from the picture’s face, and the vision stands as once it was, though my young mis- tress’ merry eyes have not the power to see it. Let her laugh. - God forbid that I should grudge it of her. Soon enough shall she sit sewing and another laugh. Carford was gone, well-nigh healed of his wound, healed also of his love, I trust, at least headed off from it. M. de Fontelles Was gone also on that quest of his which made my Lord Rochester so merry. In- deed, I fear that in this case the scoffer had the best of it, for he whom I have call- ed M. de Perrencourt was certainly served cs n by his indignant subject, and that most brilliantly. Well, had I been a French- man I could have forgiven King Louis much, and I suppose that, although an Englishman, I do not hate him greatly, since his ring is often on my wife's finger and I see it there without pain. It was the day before my wedding should take place, for my lord, on being informed of all that had passed, had sworn roundly that since there was one honest man who scught his daughter, he would not refuse her, lest while he waited for better things worse should come. And he proceeded to “We Walked in Silence.” pay me many a compliment, which I could repeat, despite of modesty, if it chanced that I remembered them. But in truth, my head was so full of his daughter that there was no space for his praises, and his well- turned eulogy—for my lord had a pretty flow of words—was as sadly wasted as though he had spoken it to the statue of Apollo on his terrace. I had been ig dinner with the vicar, and since it was not yet time to pay my evening yisit to the manor, I sat with him awhile after our meal, telling him, for his entertainment, how I had talked with the king at Whitehall; what-the king had said and what I, and how my Lord Rochester had talked finely of the devil, and tried, but failed, to talk of love. He drank in all with eager ears, weighing the wit in a bal- ance and trying to see, t! my recol- oe the Ere, cnet the srene and the men that were so res and so familiar to his dreams. = “You don’t appear very indignant, sir,” I ventured to observe, with a smile. We were in the porch, and for answer ta what I said he pointed ae ee eee ee TAME alate ak i alate Rael Headed kali you are indignant.?They- have not crawled ‘over me,-and EF anticertons.” | * “But, sir, will you atlow a man no dis- interested moral effiottos?* “As much 4s he Will, #ad he shall be cool at the end of It,” sintled the vicar. ‘Now, if tiey took my béenefied from me 7 “T dis; “You did not quit:the court without some regret, Simon,” he.iremtnded me. I could make not®ing of him in this mood and was about to leave! him when I per- ceived my lord afta Barbara approaching the house. Springing ‘wp, I ran to meet them; they received me2with a grave air, and, in the ready apprehension: of evil born of a happines# that seems too great, cried out to know if there were bad tid- ings. x “There’s nothing that touches us nearly,” said my lord, “but very pitiful news is ecme from France.” ‘The vicar had followed me and now stood by me; I looked up and saw that the ugly creature was still in his hand. “It concerns madame, Simon,” said Bar- bara. “She is dead, and all the town de- clares that she had poison given to her in a eup-of chicory water. Is it not pitiful?” Indeed, the tidings came as a shock to me, for I remembered the winning grace and wit of the unhappy lady. “But who has done it?” I cried. “I don’t know,” ‘said my lord. “It is set down to her husband, rightly or wrongly, who knows?” A sflence ensued ‘for a few moments. The vicar stopped and set his captive free to crawl away on the path. “God has crushed one of them, Simon,” gaid he. “Are you content?” “Nay, I try not to believe it of her,” said In a graver mood we began to walk, and presently, as the thing chanced, Barbara and I distanced the slow steps of our elders and fcund ourselves at the manor gates alene. “I am very sorry for madame,” said she, sighing heavily. Yet presently, because by the mercy of Providence our cwn joy out- weighs others’ grief, and thus we can pass through the world with unbroken hearts, she looked up at me with a smile, and, pessing her arm through mine, drew her- self close to me. “Aye, be merry, tonight at- least be merry, my sweet,” said I. “For we have come through a forest of troubles, and are here safe out on the other side.” “Saf2 and together,” said ‘she. ‘i “Without the second, where would be the rst?” “Yet,” said Barbara, “I fear you'll make a bad husband; for here at the very begin- ning—nay, I mean before ‘the beginning— ycu have deceived me.” “I protest—!" I cried. “For it was from my father only that I reard of a visit that you paid in London.” I bent my head and looked at her. “I would not trouble you with it,” said I. “It_was no more than a due of civility.” “Simon, I don’t grudge it to her. For I am here in the country with you and she is there in London without you.” “And in truth,” said I, “I believe that ycu are both best pleased.” “For her,” sald Barbara, speak.” For a long while then we walked in silence, while the afterncon grew full and waned again. They mock at lovers’ talk; let them, say I with all my heart, so that they leave our silerce sacred. But at iast Barbara turned to me and said with a lit- tle laugh: “Art glad to have come home, Simon?” Verily I was glad. In body I had wander- ed some way, in mind and heart further, through many dark ways, turning and twisting here and thers, leading I knew not whither, seemifg to leave no track by which I might regain my starting point. Yet, although I felt it not, the thread was in my hand, the gajden thread spun here in Hatchstead when, my days were young. At length the hold, of it had tightened and I, perceiving it, had turned and followed. Thus it had brougnt me home, no better in purse or station than I, went and poorer by the loss of certain dreams that haunted me, yet,:as I hope, sound in heart and soul. I looked and in the dark eyes that were set on me as though there were their refug2, joy and life; she clung to me as though even still L might leave her. But the last fear fled, the last doubt faded away and a smile game in radiant serenity on the lips I loved as, bending dcwn, I whispered: ( “Aye, Tam glad jto haye come home.” But, there was cne thing more that 1 must ‘say. Her téad Te on my shoulder as shemurmured: “And you have utterly forgotten her?” Her eyes were safely hidden. I smiled as I answered, “Utterly.” See how I stood! Wilt thou forgive me, Nelly? For a man may be very happy as he is and still not forget the things which have been. “What are you thinking of, Simon my wife asks sometimes when I lean back in my chair and smile. “Of nothing, sweet,” say I. And in truth I am nct thinking; it is only that a low laugh echves distantly in my ear. Faithful and loyal am I, but—should sueh as Nell leave naught behind her? THE END. — ART AND ARTISTS. There are only two works in sculpture that are yet to arrive at the Congressional Library, the group of figures for the clock in the reading room and the statue of Michael Angelo. The latter has been nodeled by Paul W. Bartlett, whose strik- ing figure of Columbus was placed not long ago on the railing of the rotunda bal- cory. The nymph mounted upon a sea horse, which completes the fountain group by Roland Hinton Perry, has just been placed in position, and the group may now be seen in its entirely. The nymph is quite similar to the one which was placed in front of the right-hand niche some time ago, and both nerefd and sea horse are splendid in action and movement. Prep- arations are being made to put in place the bronze doors, which arrived recently. They were modeled by Herbert Adams, the sub- “I cannot ject being “Writing,” one of the three principal ways in which knowledge has been disseminated. * * Ok On Wednesday afternoon an informal re- ception was held at the studio of Miss Aline Solomons and Miss Bertha Perrie, in order that Mr. Thomas Nelson Page and the members of the Art Students’ League might become better acquainted. The af- fair proved very enjoyable and a more in- timate footing was established between the students and Mr, Page, who was elect- ed an associate member of the organization at a recent meeting. A meeting of the league was held on Tuesday afternoon, but aside from the election of Mrs. Mueller ‘to membership little was accomplished save the regular routine of business, x «_* The sale of the Stewart collection in New York this week 1§' the‘ most notable art event cf the winter, and collectors have flocked to the metropolis from all parts of the country. The larg¢ number of Wash- ington collectors wHo went on to New York to attend the salé’ gives ground for the hope that several padntipgs trom this splen- did array of masterpieces may find a per- manent resting place inthis city. The col- lection was particyfarly strong in examples of the so-called ROmay-Spanish school, of which Fortuny. wag,the,Jeader, and includ- ed no less than tmentysfive pictures from the brush of thaty;b nt painter. Rico, Zamacois, Boldini and ‘azo, artists be- longing to the same, school, were also strongly represented, ugh Mr. Stewart showed his catholicity in his collection Troyon, Decamps, it, Daubigny, Ror seau, Harpignies, ibovk, Gerome, Bonnat,. Raudry, Menzel, Alme Tadema and many others. S s * = For several years the Washington public instructive value to students be overestimated. Loverp’ of [ irgs and en indifferent illustration in cray- on. From the of these orig- inals few would gain adequate idea of the strength and of his unerring boldness draughtsmanship. The wash drawings by Irving R. Wiles are equally instructive from a technical int, and special note should be taken of the Mexican street Scene and the view in an opera box. Smed- jey’s American types will claim many mirers, and the clever though more man- nered work of A. B. Wenzell will also find favor. The work of Alice Barber Stephens forms a very attractive feature of the dis- play, by reason of its naturalness and lack of affectation, as well as by the. happy union of breadth and delicacy in the treat- tent. Some of her illustrations are in full color and show a good deal of ability in that direction. The collection includes work by Howard Pyle, Thulstrup, Robert Reid, Abbey, Blum and a number of others. a xe Next Monday Mr. Lucien Powell will place on view at Veerhoff’s gallery an at- tractive coll2ction of water colors of wide- ly varying subjects. The walls will be hung principally with landscapes and marines, but there will also be several street scenes, a class of subjects which the artist shows to very good advantage. Th: market scerte which he exhibited ‘in Nash- ville deserves especial attention, as it is one of the most carefully studi2d pictures that has 2ver come from his easel. The treatment of the receding line of irregu- larly built houses is noticeably good and there are some delightful passages of cool color in this painting. Mr. Powell's strong color sense is evident in all his work, and he ts thoroughly in his element when paint- ing the brilliant hues of a Venetian scene or the rich coloring of an autumn land- scape. His work is never lacking in breadth, but on th2 contrary he often pushes freedom of handling to the extreme, so that in a contemplation of the picture the brush work is unduly apparent. In his storm scenes he rarely fails to give a good sens> of movement, and in one motive which he will exhibit the trees bending ‘before the wind and the threatening cloud masses behind are very suggestive. * * Mr. Carl Rohl Smith, ths Chicago sculp- tor, is at work in the studio he has fitted up on Brightwood avenue, and is busy with the modeling of the bas reliefs for the pedestal of the Sherman statue. He will not commence work on G2n. Sherman and his steed until spring, and he will then be- gin operations in the temporary studio that has been erected just back of the treas- ry, near the spot where the statue is to stand. In the construction of this spacious studio, arrangements were made so that the model may be rolled, from time to time, out into the open air and seen under ths changing effects of sunlight and in the setting that the completed statue is to ave. x * x The bust of Professor Alexander Melville Bell, which Mr. Carl Heber has just com- pleted, has lost none of the fore> and vigor which it possessed in the early stages of the work, for the young sculptor has not weakened the general breadth of treat- ment in adding the refining touches. Every line and wrinkle plays its part in bringing out the character of the head, and the ex- pression is given in the simplest and most direct way. So admirable a subject might well be inspiration for any sculptor, and Mr. Heber is at his best in the modeling of just such strong types. Occasionally he appears to equally good advantage in work of a more subtle delicat> nature, such as the suavely modeled profile of a friend which he finished not long ago. In his sttdio a weil-constructed figure study which he has under way also testifies to his ability. Mr. Heber comes to Washing- ton to assist Mr. Carl Rohl Smith in his work on the Sherman statue, and while a ccmparative stranger here, his work is fevorably known in his hom? city—Chi- cago. * * x Miss S. W. Kelly has upon her easel a charming flower study,which shows that she has a special gift for subjects of that kind. The flowers are drawn with delicacy and precision and are very true in color. The vase of Venetian glass which is introduced inthe study is especially well rendered in its. appearance of semi-transparency. Miss Kelly’s work has been very much inter- rupted this winter, but she expects to hold an exhibition before long, in which she will stow what little work she has done in the Past three or four months and also the many water colors that she made during the summers Several of these are sepia drawings made near Sligo, but the best of her work was done in the neighborhood of Harper's Ferry. One of these sketches, showing a dilapidated negro cabin overhung with the spreading branches of an old tree, is, in its streng effect of sunlight, one of the best thirgs that Miss Kelly has in her studio. * Ok Mr. U. S. J. Dunbar has finished the bust of Mr. Isherwood, which he has been mod- eling in New York, and his work has re- ceived much praise there. Mr. Dunbar will return to Washington as secon as he has fl hed some cther business there, and ne is expected about the last of next week. * * Miss Katherine Chipman, who has been working in New York during the early part of the winter, plans to come to Washington during the first part of this month. She has just finished a very successful por- trait of Mrs. Donald McLean, regent of the New York city chapter of the Daughters of the Revoluticn. Mrs. McLean is much in the public eye at present, as she is ex- pected to be tke next president general of the society. Miss Chipman’s portrait has been highly spoken of in New York, and those who remember her pleasing water color work can easily understand her suc- cess. Z 5 * * ‘The latest product of a Washington laboratory whose gold ware has already brought !t fame is now attracting wide at- tention in New York. It is a small violet holder of royal Worcester ware, whose diminutive surface reflects all the colors and brilliancy of a fire opal. In the dark, it flashes with phosphorent beauty. It is the choice pizce, a museum piece, connois- seurs declare, of a large output of the ware that was sent to New York by the Misses Healey of Washington just before Christmas. It was valued then at $25. It is valu2d now at $100, though it has been withdrawn from sale, and is to be mounted. Miss Emily Healey, while working in her laboratory a few months ago, discovered the process which gives to ner gold ware this iridescent effsct. Like the process for the production of the gold ware, this, of course, is a secret, and doubly valuable, as it has the distinction, it is claimed, of be- ing actually something new. An indisputable proof of its metallic sur- face, as distinguish>d from the glazed sur- faces of other wares is its opacity. Held to the light, no ray penetrates it, whereas in the glazed wares, the light filters through at least in spots. Two hundred cards ar: out to artists and connoisseurs, inviting them, on Monday and Tuesday afternoons, to a view of a number of beautiful pieces of the ware that are now ready for shipment. = See “Alfonso,” said Mrs. Midas, heading in this paper that says ‘Had One ‘Wife Too Many.’ The rest of the article is torn off. How many wives do you think the brute had?” “One, probably,” was Midas’ prompt re- ply.—Detroit Free Press. - here is a THE HOUSE OF LORDS Points of Resemblance Between It and the Senate. HOW A NEW PEER TAKES HIS SEAT Curious Ceremonies of England's Hereditary Chamber. AS A COURT OF APPEAL Written for The Evening Star. Mr. Alexander MacDonnell, clerk of the house of lords, London, has just returned home after a visit of several weeks to this country. In the course of his trip Mr. Mac- Donnell visited Washington and was thus enabled to make a comparison between the methods of our own Senate and the august body with which he is officially connected. “How do the methods of conducting bust- ness in the house of lords compare with those of the American Senate?” he was asked. “Well, in reality,” said the clerk to the British peers, “there isn't as much differ- ence as you would imagine. It doubtless will surprise most Americans, as I know it would most Englishmen, to know that the two houses get through their work in the same way to a large extent. “I will confess that I was a little disap- pointed in your Senate. I expected to find fire, eloquence, animated debate, and I didn’t get it. Perhaps it was because there was no great question on for consideration at the time of my visit. As I saw it, the chamber was certainly very quiet, and there was no lack of dignity and decorum in its conduct. I did not see any drawn revolvers, bowie knives or fist fights such as we have sometimes heard about in Eng- land. Perhaps some of those were myths. Rather a Disappointment. “I have admitted that I didn’t find the American Senate altogether as I had fan- cied it, and I dare say that you would be even more disappointed when you came to look into the house of lords.” “But isn’t there much more ceremony in the work of the peers?” ‘Ordinarily, no; on certain occasions, yes,” replied Mr. MacDonnell. * ihere seems to be a notion more or less preva- lent over here that the members of the lords sit about on separate thrones, clad in robes of state, and with coronets on their heads. In reality the peers usually sit in morning dress, and not always very cor- rect dress at that. The members wear | their hats in the chamber, though nobody | else is permitted to remain covered there. | Most of the regular attendants are buried | in papers, and they speak, as your sena-, tors do, like barristers, trying to bring out | their points clearly, rather than with any attempt at eloquence. The numbers in at- tendance seem to be very nearly the same, though of course the membership of the house of lords is much greater. There are about 550 eligible voters now, but the larg- est vote that has been recorded in recent years was about 330, I think. That was on Mr. Gladstone's home rule measure, | which was summarily thrown out by a) great majority. The Queen’s Assent. “Of course the peers have certain of- fices and certain formal functions which are inherited, and some of these require a great deal of ceremony. For example, the fcrmal notification of the royal assent is one of these, and when the assent of the crown to any list of measures is to be for- mally expressed the lord commissioners at- tend the chamber in state—that is to say, in their robes—ané sit together at one side of the room. The speaker of the commons and his attendants are also present in the ace reserved for them. At a table mid- way between these two groups are the clerk of parliament and the clerk of the crown. The latter holds in his hand a list of bills, and before reading each title he bows first to one and then the other of these groups, so that if his list is a long one he gets a good bit of exercise out of the perform- ance. After each title he repeats the | words, ‘Le reyne le veult’ (the que | sents). The F | ceremony in the fir “Two years ago an to modify this ceremor of having the words pronounced in glish, but it was not done, and the sen- tence is still spoken in its Norman-French form. “Another occasion which is attended rial ceremony is the creating of eer. The new member is con- ducted iato the chamber, clad in his and preceded by the garter king-a if a.baron, he sits down on what is known as the baron’ ch, if a viscount at the viscount’s bench, and so on. After a mo- ment he rises and bows to the lord chan- cellor, who returns the bow, removing the cocked hat which he wears for the occa- sion. The distinction between the various benches, by the way, is kept up only on the introduction of new members; at other times the peers sit wherever is most con- venient, except the lords spiritual, who still occupy a particular section, as they have from time immemorial. How the Peers Do Business. “There are certain peculiarities in the manner of conducting debate in the house of lords not found in most legislative chambers. For instance, a member on rising to speak does not address the chair, but invariably begins,‘My lords.’ Thus, if two members wish to speak at the same time, the lord chancelior does not decide which shall have the floor. One gives way of his own accord, or else some other member calls out which shall continue. In a body like the commons or your own Congress this arrangement might not work well, but among the peers there is never eny difliculty over it. “Another peculiarity of the lords is that the sittings are very brief compared with those of other houses. The peers do not. convene till 4:15 in the afternoon and rise in time for dinner at 6. This is because the lords have a smal] amount of business to consider compared with the vast bulk that passes through the hands of the com- mons. “When the lord chancellor himself wishes to speak he steps aside from his accus- tomed place during his address. There is a curious reason for this. It is that the woolsack fs technically considered as out- side the house of lords. It has happened on one or two occasionas that it has been occupied by one who was not a peer.” The Woolsack. “what is the woolsack?” “The woolsack is the name given to the lord chancellor's seat. It is a crimson cushion, with no side or back support, and c hardship, depriva- tion or overwork, unless he takes the right remedy to reinforce na- ture. The average man when he in good health eats too much, When he gets a little aut of sorts he pays no eed and keeps right on “making a hog of himself In some instances he gets thin and em- aciated. In others he gets grossly cor- pulent, and weighted di wit In the first instance he dys ia and nervous prostration. In the ae | for kidney trouble or heart failure. Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery en- ables the average man to undergo a great deal of hardship, deprivation and over- work, in spite of the life he leads. It causes the food to be properly assimilated. It builds firm, healtiry flesh, but does not make corpulent people more fat. It cures dys- pepsia, nervous troubles, kidney disease and 8 percent. of all cases of consumption. It prevents weakness in any organ of the body. and three of * Pleasant Pellets.” I am now able to do my work and eat many things that I could mot touch before I took these medicines.” An inactive liver and constipated bowels are promptly cured by Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets. They never gripe. not especially comfortable to sit upon. The name comes from the fact that the longest and most finely combed fleece in England as once used for its covering. There ere several other terms peculiar to the house of lords which are not generally under- stood. For instance, the painted champer is not a picture gallery. It is the room where the peers and commons ere sup- posed to meet when they come together in conference. As these conferences have been dispensed with it is not used for that row. It takes its name from its rich f; eces and paintings, and is called the painted room in contrast with the chamber in which busines: the peers transact their regular The latter is known as the “gild- ed room,” on account of its gold decora- tions. Pitt was accustomed to speak of the hovse of lords as ‘the tapestry,’ referring to the many rich tapestries with which the chambers are hung.” “The house of lords is also the supreme court of England, is it not?” “The law lords sit as a court of appeal. This court includes not only the life peers created from the judicial ranks, but any of the members who have held high ju- dicial position. It is presided over by the lord chancellor and sits as a court four days in the week when there is busine: for it to consider. The lord chancellor do not sit on the woolsack on these occasions except when he delivers judgment, when he resumes that place.” Talk Like Senators. “Do the peers have any rule for closing debate, or are they, like our own senators at Washington, allowed to talk as long they please?” “There is nothing to prevent a peer from talking just as long cs he pleases, except the considerable one of the lack of an audienc . if he makes himself a bore, But the peers usually show a clear majority one Way or another on any question that comes before them, and there is little inducement to the members to pose of obstruction.” “Then you do not ¢ alk for the mere pur- ider the house of lords an antiquated institution?” “Not at all, unless by antiquated you mean old in point of years. The prevail- ing atmosphere of the chamber is one of pusin and it does the work that comes to it with reasonable dispatch and, of those acq it will with inteltigenc 1 suppose that t e house of peers is an as- semblage of old men. It is being constant- recruited by young men, and a m: ajority of Its members are still in their prime.” LONDON'S UNDERGROUND RAILWAY. How the Rondbed ix Used to Start and Stop Trains. In designing the new London under- ground railroad ‘the engineers have hit upon a new scheme which may be adopted hereafter on surface roads. There are no grades in the tunnel, but at various points the roadbed itself has been inclined so that it can be used as a brake or as a speed accelerator for trains. On cach side of each station is a 3 per cent gradient, rising on the approaching side and fall- ing again to the level of the road on the departing side. This unique method gives a retarding effect to all trains approach- ing the stations equivalent to the applica- tion of considerable additional brake pow- er, while materially aiding in the accel ation of all trains as they leave the plat- forms. Furthermore, the saving in power necessary to secure the requisite rapid ac- celeration is by the adoption of this plan calculated to amount to about 38 per cent. This is a point in modern railway practice which might well be adopted by surface roads. The new London underground fol- lows the line of greatest traffic in the city. It runs from Liverpool street due west, under Holburn, High Holburn, Oxford street and past Hyde Park as far as Shep- herds Bush. The road will peceive passengers from the great underground central depot, now in course of construction by the Central London Railway Company, between the Bank of ag ope and the Royal Exchange, brought in by the main lines of the Lon- don and Northwestern, Midland and Lon- don and Southwestern railroads. It is es- pecially at this point in the city that cross- ing streets is a perilous task, and the rafl- road-company is now engaged in construct- ing a series of subways immediately below the surface for the convenience of pedes- trians and as approaches to its own station below. From this central depot will radiate not less than five underground tunnels, some 85 feet below the surface, each feed- ing a separate and equally populous dis- trict of the great agglomeration known as London. —— Hibson—“How much did Daubre get for his Academy canvas?” Garner—“Don’t know. Three years would be about right.”—Tit-Bits. “A Good Start for a Good Dinner.” Blue Label Chickea Chicken Gumbo Priatanier Tomato Beet Oxtatl Bontilon Groce Partio. Clam Chowder the nineteen varieties of ‘‘ Blue Label ” The rare and eli quell of. any one of