Evening Star Newspaper, December 19, 1926, Page 96

¢ THE CHRISTMAS FOLLIES By Zona Galef} Yvonne, One of Those Martyrs, Was Through_Sacrifi s to Christmas,” sald Yvonne. | I've given to everybody T | know, .and dozens that I} don't know. Il give some | more,” if you like. But | don’t gsk be to go to Christmas tree. “Oh, come on," said Billo. *“Rationalize on that,” said Yvonne, | 2o “prove that she knew the word Because,” Billo explained, “I love | rou and a Christmas tree not a | Christmas tree without Y« ! “Isn't he foolish, Cyril”” Yvonne demanded, chin raised, hands clasped. Cyril, smoked on and said: “He's| hopeless, that bird. I'm with you on| the tree, Yvonne. The're as boring as family dinners.” “You must remember.” said Billo, “that you're mederns and I'ma regu lar. * I love 'em. - They make me feel - he regarded a fountain—'‘they | make. me feel like Christmas,” he | completed. There was nothing of Christmas in | the Toom where they sat—in the sun room of the apartment of Yvonne's aunt, Miss Caroline Claude. The floor., tiled in green, was cut by the little fountain and tropical plants and blooming boxes made Summer for the eve, as the mosaic-topped radia tors made it to the air. A blue macaw sulked on an enameled perch and on a tray of lacquer, chosen at the nforment, a tiny marmoset nibbled and made faces. “I'a rather stay here,” sald Yvonne, | “and “talk to you, Cyril. Billo, of course,* 'will go to the Oxfords to see the tree.” “I"guess I'll eall for you,” sald Billo; “and see if—made desperate by the prospect of an evening with Cyril —vou wor‘t come along.”’ “Nothing moves me:from this place tonight,’+ sald Yvonne. } The ' two- glass doors opened and Elsa appeared. Elsa was 18 and wore blue check and a white apron and carried a broom. She was Yvonne's aunt’s maid and ruled Yvonne, five vears her senior, with a pretty authority “will u_all please go somewhere else, Miss: Yvonne?” said Elsa. “I want to sweep here. And a man is golhg to wash the windows." “EMsa,” said Billo, “T'l bet you're going to a Christmas_tree tonight.” “Oh,*yes, sir,” sald Elsa, “a grand at my cousin’s new house.” Whole ‘family going to be there?” Billo inquired. “Oh; yes, sir—aunts and uncles and all Kinds of cousins,” said Elsa. “New, see!” said Billo_to Yvonne, as he:followed her to the dinning Toom. - “Have some Christmas spirit, woman. | o x. v % 'VONNE sat in a blue velvet chaise | longue and held forth. She felt that #ny “one wishing to hold forth must have, at the least, a blue velvet , “is on my calendar for other people—but I won't pretend any more. I've pretended for yéars. + I've rejoiced over gifts of books that I'd already read and even | owned; .over handkerchiefs I didn't | meed~and hose in shades I hated and doo-dabs I didn't want in the bnule.‘ Now I'm done. I've told all my | friends. All I'm doing ‘this year is| to send stuff, to the charity Christ-| magses. I will not pretend any longer. | And 1 won't go to trees. I'm done with Christmas’ trees. I'm off Christ- mas for keeps.” - | “Me, too,” said Cyril. “I've said to my.whole family, ‘If you want & tree .and all that rot. count me out.’ Tm no bambino, and I'm no greedy | grown-up either. | “Anyway,” said’ Yvonne, ‘“Aunt | Caroline is doing Christmas for the| race. She's crazy with Christmas. | T'm_not needed.” “How 4 the_day inquired Billo, common folks gorge ourselyes with & r plums?” “§'q thought of that,” said Cyril. “How would it be if you married rie on Christmas day, Yvonne—to pass | the time?” “As well,” said Yvonne, without looking at him, “on Christmas as any other time.” “Yfeaning? “1 doh't care much for tl any purpose.”’ he day for | she inquired. | Judicially. 1 by { the | g00d measure, and departed. THE SUNDAY STAR. \‘TY'ASIHI.\'GTOI\'. D. C. DECEMBER 9 e “Then,” cried Billo, with an air of jovous surprise, “marry me on one of the other days. There are so many.” Yvonne listened intently. . “Do you hear anything peculiar overhead? “In my aunt's room? inge sounds went on—tap, D, shove, and a, scrape dance,” said Cyril The shove, Like new They of the laughter and shrill Caroline toiled up duplex was cut h the graceful stair apartment. Their an_inexplicable cream. The door of Miss Claude’s room came open, and F a stood there. “Oh, M: Yvonne,” she cried, »me quick. She’s tied to the Mor- | ris_chair | She Billo tressed “Morrls” as if, as aid later, a Morris chair were the very worst kind to be tied to. It was a strange interior presented Miss Caroline Claude’s prett. ender room—drawers upside down on floor, boxes upside down on the bed, and Miss Caroline Claude . her- self bolt upright in her Morris chalr, to which her waist and her wrists | were securely tied. The telephone was ringing, with that air of weary violence assumed by the telephone which has been ringing for some time quite against its will. “Answer that telephone, please,” said Miss Caroline Claude, “‘and if they say they can't have the set | marked by tonight tell them they'll have to.” “But, Yvonne. ‘‘Please do as.I ask you,” said Miss Claude, cros S it Tell them—that's it. . Tell them . . . . Oh, they say:they will do it, don't much better.” 1 untle you, Miss ?"" inquired Cyril Burch. { Miss Claude appealed Billo. | “What do you think?" she wanted to know, with the grin which they all loved, from one corner of: her mouth. “Don’t be an idiot, Cyril,” Billo supplicated. . ““Got a knife? No? ‘Well, ‘take these embroidery scissors and loosen up her other hand.” “But, Aunt Caroline,” cried Yvonne. “Who did it? Who—" “That was Blucher, wasn't it, on he telephone?” asked Miss Caroline. ‘Elsa—is anything the matter? Elsa was sobbing. “I thought I heard something,” she related, “and I come in that door . .."” “Yes, Elsa, I was right here at the ime,” Miss Caroline reminded her. ‘Thanks' very much, and get your sweeping done, please, before lunch.” Elsa gasped, gaped, sobbed once for Aunt Caroline—" cried “Yvonne,” said her aunt, “could you go down this morning and buy two presents for me that I've overlooked?" Blllo took a firm stand. “Miss Claude,” he began, with character, "I don’t want to interrupt you, but may T call your attention to the fact that ‘ve been robbed?” “What? Oh, he didn't get any- thing.” Miss Claude assured him. “At lep.st. only that teakwood case— he made off with that. But I didn't have anything in it but some beads, and beads don’t become me. And I never did like teakwood.” “But are you sure; darling,” cried Yvonne, “that he didn’t get anything else?” i “Quite sure,” Miss Claude assured her. “I watched Hfm the whole time. He wasn't a very ‘good burglar.” “But why ‘dldn’t you scream?”: de- manded Cyril Burch. 'A% Oyl woula?" Billo completed t. * “What? Why, I was gagged or whatever they call it — disgusting word, {sn’t it?" T worked that off—the muscles of my jaws are in very good condition. Yvonne, what I want you to_get is two silver-backed—" Billo took Miss Claude by the arm. Miss Claude,” he said, as to the deaf, “you have been robbed. It is customary in such cases to call the police.” 3 She glared up at him. “Haven't T enough to do,” she inquired haught- ily, “without bringing the police into the house?” 3 Cyril Burch took a hand. “But, Miss Claude,” he said, his excitement still very little abated, “you ought to try to apprehend the thief.” Him sl favor “I have,” she said briefly, “no ap- | prehension,” and appeared to consider | the matter ended { Billo put hoth hands to his heaq. | “That word doesn’t mean that word,” | he was trying to say | “Miss Claude, really?” Cyril was af firming. “Aunt he regarded with intense dis-‘ Caroline, hadn’t T _better »u something to take?” Yvonne ng to insert. Miss Claude cut them all off sharp- ly. “Please don't all Interrupt me like this,” she begged. “I've more than I can see to. It was bad enough | to have the burglar break in on the day. Yvonne, will you do those er rands for me? Cyril, order the car, | please. Billo, hand me my work bas- | ket. I've two initials to embroider | yet, and all my things to wrap up.” Cyril made a last plea. ‘Mayn't I notify the police?” he hegged. | “No, thank you,” snapped Miss Claude. “This robbery business has | just about spoiled my morning."” | On the little stair Yvonne and Billo | burst into hysterical laughter. | “You see,” sald Yvonne, ‘“what. Christmas does. It makes raving ma- niacs of people—with no time even to be robbed.” v “It's a shame—cutting her off from pleasures like that,” Billo said—and there was still in his face a look as of those who are dazed. “Can I come shopping with you?" he retained the wit to inquire. “Don’t leave me, Billo,” sald Yvonne earnestly. “I feel as if there were bandits with shining durkees—what's that word?—where's Cyrfl?" “Let's leave him telephoning for the car and we'll take a taxi,” suggested Billo inventively. “Do we have to have him along?" he demanded. | “Why not?" asked Yvonne. i “Because,” said Billo, “I love you, and he always makes love to you, the bounder."” “Come on, both of you,". said Yvonne, “and you'll both have to came back with me for lunch, too. In:cage Aunt Caroline has been robbed again: and hasn't noticed.” ‘Wait a minute, please. Miss Caro- line!” Billo called. “Hadn't we better search the apartment?"’ Miss Claude’s voice descended brisk- “Wait till you get back,” she sald. * ok ok % VONNE In silk, idle in the Summer, of the sunroom, and Yvonne in’ the blue chaise lounge—these all did excellently well, Billo had concluded. But Yvonne, in brown velvet and fur, Christmas shopping, this was, Billo settled, a delight to the eye. “A tortolse shell fitted morocco case—yes. Blue linings, I should say —and very well fitted, certainly,” she told the salesman kindly. And while he sought for such she went on: “Why should she give her that now, whoever she is, and pay two prices for it? And why doesn’t she find out whether she has a fitted case?—she probably has at least three. Yes— that one. Oh!" sald Yvonne, “isn't that. ducky? Why, I'd like that my- sel T'll get you one for my wedding present,” sald Cyril softly. “Thanks, old man,” said Billo. 1t was the same way when it came to kimonas. . 1 ‘A kimono,” said Yvonne. “'Now, everybody on earth has twins when it comes to, kimonos. Aunt Caroline leaves the color to me-—well, there aren't enough colors—and look &t this crowd—crazy, absolutely crazy, every one of them. Isn't Christmas shop- ping enough to creaté hydrophobia? Oh, Billo! Look at this kimono. Look at it, Cyril! Did you ever see any- thing that you thought so lovely? It's like clouds in the moonlight, with some of the sunset left over—-this is how I sound when I'm maudiin. Oh, this is the one—and bless the lucky getter. That would be becoming to a letter box.” “Darling,” sald Cyril gently, “will you wear this for breakfast every morning?” \ ‘“Yes—to please Cyril when he drops in on us on his way downtown,” said Billo casually. “Isn’t it sickening to see people shop so llke mad?” said Yvonne. ‘“‘Oh, look 1y | called this morning to try | no | hon said Yvonn Elsa at the door o at those two dear people trying to cide on a doll ecar see anything more adors faces?" ping ) “It’s the most frightful bore,” said Yvonne and, Billo saw, believed that she beliaved it All this he related at lunch to Miss Caroline Claude, who went over her | list. and heard not a, word that any body said to her. <% ¢ hope you're your experience, sald_solicitously, “Oh, but I am, sured him abggitly ble than their shop jonie the worse for | ss Claude?” Cyril N Caroline as- | “Six firms I've to find a | hey kept the idea!” apartment pink mulberry lampshade. offering me blue mulberry “Shall we search the 2" Billo inquired. “First, would you three mind run ning round to the flor and picking | out my potted roses ss (laude de- | manded. “I'll need six-no, seven well, you might pick eight." “Miss Claude,” said Cyril, with the igor ot no introduction, “T have the sk you for your niece's hand th marifge. | “So have 1,” said Bitlo promptly “What?" said Miss Claude. ‘“Blue galloon—five yards—" “Love," said Billo distinctly. I love Yvonne.” “Well, I can’t help it,” sald Miss | Claude, rfsing from the table. “If you mix the sacred and profane like this, | don’t look at me. Lvonne, dear, those mirrors were to be marked by this afternoon. If you would just run | down—Oh, and those pink wadded slippers—* “Love. e Through the whole frantic after- | noon they shopped, and when, as Billo | observed, the day had turned to gray— which Cyril corrected and called turn- | ing, bluei—on which Billo held that he'd, rather turn gray than to turn bluds himself—then the three moved homeward. w*fAnd now,” sal mounted the steps, t me to g, but jpot. Gyril—then we'll search "the ‘apaftment. .1’ hope te burgldr has waftdd.” i #'They 'had tea n the sun-parior—by now scrupulously swept by Elsa, whd, still shaken and a little pale, served the tea and the cakes. “Still_out for your tree tonight, Elsa?” Billo inquired. “Launched on your wild career of peace on earth, good-will, and that sort of thing?” “What was that, sir?" asked Elsa | respectfully. | “Merry Christmas,” explained Billo | gently. . “Oh, yes, sir. Of course, sii Elsa. T wish you the same, sir. “You'd jolly well better,” said Billo severely. “You and Miss Claude and I are the only ones in this house who care anything about observing Christ- mas—and, of course, the burglar. He did his part to brighten things up.” “What was that, sir?” asked Elsa. “Bring some lemon, please, Elsa,” Billo, as they vhen we've. had | sald “Yes'm,” sald Elsa, and departed. ‘Within five seconds of time, a shrill scream—Elsa's scream—came. from the butler's pantry. And wheh, fin still ogher flve seconds; Yvnnu#ln “Billo ahd Cyrik rea the, 53 saw the closet, grasping By the wrist a frighteried mhan, shock- ingly unshaven. In the man's hand wan a_high, ugly, teakwood case. “Here he {8 cried Efsa. “Tle "ini chair, like he done Miss Claude.” ‘here’s no Morris chair in the din- ing-room,” Billo heard himseif saying. | “Who {s this man?" inquired Cyril, as one who insists on the pedigree of one's burglars. 2 “He's the window-washer.” Elsa in- troduced him without formalit: “Meet the window-washer, muttered. “I'll call *Aunt Tabnpe:. oY | ¥Dén’t interrupt her again| pleaded. “Two burglars in one day— that s, oné burglar twice in one day— well, yoy get the idea:”’: “Red’handed, with tHe teakwood case,” said Cyril. , “Let's telephone for the police. Billo Caroline,” * said | tried to | | don | put down that telephone whigh I hope vou're gging -to ask | - Blilo |’ “How you do'loVé to' teléphone.” ¥ 8 cing Herself said Billo. “It's childish, that ix | handle this thing ourselves. My dear | window-washer, what was the idea”" | The man was trembling. When he | peak his voice quite failed him, =0 Cyril went to the buffet and poured him some water. “"He's much more scared than that said Billo, eyeing the water. ‘Hov ever b | “Don't lock me up,” sald the man | queerly e got a wife and two | little folks. T done wrong. But I | done it for Christmas. “You were stealing for Christmas presents for them?” Yvonne cried I'll put it back,” said the man. | “I should think so—such a Christ mas present—an old teakwood box— | why didn’t you take something n | asked Billo absently. “I beg your par- | I didn't mean to plck ste,” “What's that, sir?” asked the man trembling. “Hush, Rillo,” Let's | on your | said Yvonne. “Cyril, Now, my friend—tell us, can't you? The man moved toward her. was young, ragged, neat T don’t earn enough,” he said, hardly to keep us in food—never to keep us in clothes. Christmas comes— my wife, she expects nothing. The | little girls—they do expect. I have nothings—nothings. I saw that box, and T saw the beads—I can tie good knots. I tied up the lady and ran with the box, I kept on working in the next room and down here. And when nobody even look for me, I can not take that box. I was trying to put it back.” “Why, my poor soul,” said Yvonne, belleve that's the truth.” “Oh, my gosh,” sald Billo, “what a rotten world!"” “I should rather think as much,” | said Cyril, interpreting the leaping pity In Yvonne's eyes. “If it mea; that we've got to start out again. “You can come with us’ sald Yvonne to the man. “We can get in most of the shops yet. “I knew it,” Cyril groaned. “Order the car, Cyril,” said Yvonne briefly. As they let themselves out the hall door Miss Claude’s voice came down to them. “Oh, Yvonne—Yvonne! T've forgot- ten two.more. Could you bring me a vanity case and a base ball mitt?”’ “Ail right, darling,” said Yvonne simply. They shopped for another hour, loaded their window-washer down, drove to his home, saw the wife and the “two little folks,” heard his broken thanks. When they dropped her at her aunt's door, Yvonne said: “You'd better come back for din- ner. I've a feeling the day is not yet done. “You're going with me to the Christ- mas tree,” Billo reminded her. “I am doing nothing of the sort, thanks,” said Yvonne Wi e T dinner Miss Claude did not ap- pear at all. “She's sewing on those five yards of galloon,” Yvonne explained. I didn’t bother her.” Flsa served coffee in the drawing | room in her best gown of red and | black, having changed when dessert was on the table. She took the cups ,;and they wished her joy of her Clrfistmas tree and her family dinner —setjat 9 o'clock, she explained, so that ‘everybody could be done with work and arrive in good time. At 10 o'clock Billo rose. “‘Come on with me to the Christmas tree,” he begged Yvonne. “I've had enough Christmas already to satlsfy anybody,” said Yvonne. “I'm not going."” “Run along, Billo,” said Cyril. “We let you ‘hang around us all day.” ““And I've got to go,” Billo informed him gloomily, “because I promised. But if ®he says she’ll marry you, while my back’s turned, I'l be the best little Christmas hater in the bunch.” Heairing the hall door close, Miss Cladde’'s volce came down: “Oh, Yvonne! If you're going out, do you think_you could get me a bottle of passable perfume at a drug store?” I've forgotten—"" In less than two minutes the apart- ment doorbell rang, and there stood He | | | | | | | 18 1926—PART 5. Billo, and with him Elsa, In her fes- tal red and black, but crying her heart out. “What's Billo been saying to you?"’ demanded Cyril promptly. “Hush,” said Billo. “Those bound- ers forgot to call for her.” “And I donno where my n-n-new house: is"’ Elsa sobbed. donno where is the party.” “But she knows wher old house,” said Billo, “and it's an apartment. Cyril, you've been dying to telephone the police all d be one. Get on the line and that apartment house.” It took an hour, during sobbed without intermission, but at the end Cyril, trying not to look pleased, jotted down the maglc num- ber. “Cyril,” sald Yvonne wearily, “or- der the car. Come on, both of you,” she added. “We're going to see this day through.” It was 10145 when the car stopped before the new cousin’s elusive num- ber. And when Cyil handed Elsa out; and she begged them to. come in, Billo leaped down beside her. “Come on,” he said to Yvonne, “we're going to see this day through.” “Dinner will be over—we might just look to make sure we've the right Dlace,” Yvonne assented. S res Tm:m-: was no dotibt about the apartment which they being the right place. Every squai inch available was covered with holly and evergreen, with red bells -and red wreaths. Even the guests seemed holly-hung and scarlet-belled. Aunts and uncles and all kinds of cousins, even as Elsa had prophesied, swarmed over the place. Though the.dinner was over, the tree ceremonies were still in full blast, and the recalcitrant cousin’s Y her cousin's which Elsa cousin somehow made his peace with | Elsa, while a scarlet Santa Claus, so | much masked that he continually groped, kept on distributing presents. Yvonne watched. Every one of these gifts was received with a shout of acclaim and applause. As Miss Caroline Claude might have regarded critically the flash .of a Christmas jewel on her finger, so the chief cousin admiringly whirred her new egg-beater, presented by a doting husband. 'As Yvonne in earlier day: might have paraded an apricot entered f { kimono, so the chief cousin himself Ishownd his new shirts. This was a | bed-rock Christmas such as Yvonne | had not known existed. | *“About enough of this, what?" said Cyril “Isn't this grand ahd glorious?” said Billo. “Oh!" said Yvonne again, and each man thought that she agreed. “Here!” somébody sald abruptly to Yvonne. She looked up Into the ruddy mask of the Santa Claus himself. He was handing her a parcel. . The chief cousin and the other cousins having held a hurried conference, this em ployer of Elsa had been voted a present, selected from the presents present, so to speak, and sacrificed by somebody on the spot. “Here!" said Santa Claus, and the hastily wrapped gift emerged: unex- pectedly from its wrappings, and in her hands Elsa held her Aunt Caro- line Claude's teakwood box. “‘Great guns,” said Santa Claus. and tore off his mask, and she looked into the eyes of the tvindow-washer. ““Miss Claude, she wouldn't take it back, ma'am,” sald Santa Claus pas- sionately. “I tried to give it to her but she says she didn't like th | o she did. And you brought it to your wife, and she's going to have it,” said Yvonne. “Is he your cousin, 100?" she asked Elsa. es'm,” sald Elsa. “I° didn't recognize 'm at first this afternoon.” “How could you, with so many cousins?" Billo murmured. “—Or I wouldn't have screamed,” Elsa concluded candidly, “Oh, ma'am,” began the window- washer earnestly, and' Yvonne kindly cut_him short with: “Put on that mask—quick! Don't you see you're spolling the fun for the children?” * K % ¥ \ the car Yvonne w: time, while Cyril the evening. <1 feel a s quiet for a went on about if I'd got you into the whole mess,” he wound up distaste- fully. “Everything would have been all right if only you had let me tele- phone for the police stralght off. “What a thundering thing vou've thought to say!” said Billo, sleepil “Come on to the Oxfords’ tree now. I'm not dressed,” Yvonne began. SAID SANTA AND TORE OFF HIS MASK, AND SHE LOOKED INTO THE EYES OF THE WINDOW- ‘WASHER. “Come along,” said Billo. “Wa'll tell | 'em we're carolers. I'm ome. The tree was over. There was to be ‘dancing’ after the tree. But as the three: went through the stately, de- serted rooms to the ballroom it was not jazz that they heard. They stood in the arch of the ball room. The tree, shorn of its gifts, rose sparkling with bulbs and colors, and on’ its summit blazed a great white star. The lights of*the room were amber and cream, the floor was spread like a quilt of smooth ice, the holly and mistletoe hung on the dark - walis. But the guests were sitting about the edges of the dancing space, and somebody had struck-an old. familiar.chord, and they were singing together, “Silent Night, Holy Night.” “Say! sald Biilo. “It's Christmas mind him,” here, too!” said Cyril. “Dance this with me “Don’t “‘He alwa. talks like that Billo. “This s mine.” “I'm not dancing,” sald Yvonne. “I'm feeling queer. 1'm going home." But when they were outside she : cried; : “Let's send away the car and walk Let's sing every step of the “T can't sing,* complained Cyril “I can,” shouted Billo. They walked through the quiet streets where candles burned in the windows. And Yvonne and Billo sang whether they knew them or they Claude’s apartment house somebody wag just emerging into the frosty glit ter of the night “Merry Christmas!" said Miss Caro- tine_Claude. “My word, is it < Isn't that over yet?" inquired Cyril. Miss Claude went over to Cyril. She took him by the arm. “Come and walk a bit with me. she said. “I've had the most glorfous time -of my life. 1 have it every year. [l tell you about it ril glanced back unhappily. But Yvonne -and Billo were unaware of him and his glances “Dear thing." s Christmas present. “All right, Bill No one was pa. would have mattered. “Has it been me all the time>” Billo wanted to know, his’English lacking. but_his face lit “Who else could Yvonne demanded. anybody who pretends to be bored by Christmas.” (Copyright, id Billo, “be m) said Yvonne. tng. Not that it 1926.) Rambler Finds Records of Executions in Old Capitol Prison Elusive HR ‘RAMBLER has found -but *+ orfe record of the execution of a death sentence at Old-Capitol “Prison. The victim was Capt. Henry Wirz, November 10, 1365. James Croggon wrote -in 1967 of Old Capitol Prison: “And here not a few executions, some by gallows and others by shooting, occurred.” I believe Mr. Croggon right, and that 1 bhave not come upon the documents in ‘which these hangings and. shoot- ings were recorded. In a beok print- ed in 1863 the author, Dennis A. Ma- honey, charged that two Old -Capitol prisoners were shot dead by guards, and he. gives the names of the men killed as Jesse W. Wharton, son of Dr.+ ‘Wharton of Prince Georges County, Md., and Henry Stewart, son of Dr: Frederick Stewart of Balti- more. Word came to me that a kind woman living in the remodeled build- ing, First and A streets northeast, which was the Old Capitol, sometimes strews flowers on graves in the gar- behind and beside the building..| ‘That graves were in the Old Capitol garden was news to me, and I thought that if graves were there they might ‘be marked, or that the kind woman who puts flowers on them might ¥now whose graves they were. The property is owned by the National Woman's Party. The front door had the sign, “Walk in.” At the desk and in the hall before it and the office behind it were several women, young, good to look at and modishly dressed. They ‘were - brisk and busy women. One was working at a ledger, one was going over mall-just hianded her, one was eoming . quickly to the desk to put a gquestion;' and one was going smartly down the hall on an errand. When the pretty blond at the office desk Yook time to notice me I said: “I'd.like to talk to the janitor.” That seemed an unusual request, and some of the ladles ‘looked up. It seems Emm the janitor does not have much | company.” “The janitor!” said the young lady in surprised soprano, as though she hadn’t quite got the ques- tion. “Yes,” said the Rambler. “I want to see him about the graves in the back yard.” “Graves in the back | yard! Graves in our back yard!” sald | several sopranos and contraltos, and | the ladies left the ledger, the mail and | the errand and came around me. “Graves in this back yard!” came in | rising tones. Ladies T had not seen before came from the parlor to take part in my reception. ““What graves?"’ sald the pretty blonde, and there was a glint in her brown ‘eyes as though they said: “Will ‘somebody please phone Dr. Hickling to bring the wagon?”’ Fair women' pressed around me. In all the years of my married life 1 never seemed so important. Subcon- sclously I felt my necktie to be sure the collar button was not showing and that the collar ends were close together. I also thought, “Gee, but 1 ought to have put on my extra pair of pants that Ellen ironed yesterday.” | WAX-MAKING INSECTS. N the border line between China and Tibet there is a native indus- try that 4 not only novel in many re- spects, but. involves .a_pllgrimage -of great lehgth each year. This indus- 1ry co “in the that raise wax. The wax is employed in various parts of China for the mak- ing of temple images and candles. ese curious insects are about the size and shape of shoe buttons. Thelr most peculiar characteristic is that they do not secrete the wax in their birthplaces. Accordingly, about May each year the natives take them from the branches of the trees where they were born and convey them many yiles across the mountains, They are carried to & part “of the country wherein grows- the' flowering ash, upon which the insects delight to feed and to depositithe wax. i It is a strange procession that pro- ceeds from the*Chien-Charig Valley every Bpring. “Fach porter carrles two bamboo baskéts fastened together with curved sticks. These fit over his shoulders, one basket being before and the other behind. The man's bur- den consists of gburds containing the insects, which are wrapped in leaves from the woodoll tree. The females eding of Insects.| are then almost ready to lay their eggs. The porters set out at night- tall, for all their traveling must be done at night. The journey is about 490 miles.. Upon the conclusion- there- o the porter immediately goes to the { his burden of goods. At once .the leafy bags are tied on the branches’of the ash trees, which are only 5 or 6 feet high. A blunt | needle is pushed through the leaves |in the bag in order that the insects may find thelr way out. Once they [ have left, they creep rapldly -up to | the leaves of the trees and begin to |feed. In a short ilme they have scat- | tered along ,the branches and soon the eggs are hatchefl and the wax is being deposited on the twigs. By Sep- tember 1 the treés look as if they were covered with snow. .. The branches are then cut off and their coating is scraped away. The wax is heated, strained and turned into the molds. In addition :to ‘the .purposes above mentioned, this wax 1s also used for {llumination, it serves as a polish for furniture and it is useful in impart- ing & gloss to silk. This industry is |said to date from the thirteenth cen Ltary. [ | “master” of the.iAdustry and delivers| “Graves in our back yard! graves?” the ladies said. “That's what I came to see the janitor about.” Really, the ladies were driv- ing the janitor from my thoughts. “Does our janitor know about graves in the back yard?” commanded a | member of the ~National Woman's | Party with a girlish figure, smart bob | and chic hat. “I came to find out what he knows about the grave: said. “Mercy!” gasped a woman. The ladies seemed to think I was a detec- tive come to arrest some one for mur- der, but I had the presence of mind | to say, “I'm the Rambler.” “The ! what?” said the ladles. 'm the | Rambler; I write those model articles | in The Star.” There was no response. The ladies had not heard of me. ‘‘And what, after all, is everlasting fame?' (Taken from the Encyclopedia of Prac- tical Quotations, indexed under “Fame.”) The ladies lost interest in me. (That is the hardest line I have ever had ‘What the best-looking member of the Na- tional Woman's Party and she said, “We rnever heard of graves in these grounds; we never heard of any wom- an laying flowers on those graves. Our janitor is a colored youth and he has been here only two years; he knows nothing about graves in' the back yard. He is out now, but his wite is downstalrs, it you want to see | hei Have you ever found any ghosts in this bullding?” asked the Rambler, trying to string out the conversation and postpone his going. She was the best-looking woman politiclan I ever saw. “Oh, certainly not!” she said “But not long ago Madame ——" | (I can’t spell the name), “the famous Russian writer, had a room upstairs, and she sald one morning that she had been kept awake by phantoms but then, you know, she is a psychic. * K Ok k D there you are! There are ghosts in the Old Capital, but it takes psychic to see them. In an| old book by Harkness the elder—the immortal Latinist and Greclan for whom, no doubt, Harkness Quadran- gle at Yale was named—I find a good deal about the word psyche, but the people of Greece gave the word to the ghost itself, and mot to the person who sees it. But T know that in our upset times a psychic is one who can see a psyche or ghost. It is fine to be a psychic, but it sometimes gives one discomfort, as in the case of the Rus- sian writer who did not get her night's sleep because she was a psychic. There are hard-boiled and material- istic persons who defy ghosts, and there are. persons of spirituality and nerves who see ghosts. Every old Washingtonian knows of houses that | are haunted. It is hard to find in | southern Maryland and tidewater Vir- | ginda @ house of decent age in whlc‘ & to write.) But I fell into a chat with | a mortal.crime has beeh done or a mortal accident taken. place which doeés not suffer from the “hants.” " Old houses whefe™eithét a~murller’ nor an aceident hdpperied are beset by ghosts, thd, “manes” of an early owner and the ‘shades of his family. It you ‘were ‘“bo'’"" In the South and -if :you had a dark purge whohag mavimied Nellie Custis, and whose husband, | Uncle Nace, had been ‘Go’geWo-shen t'n’s” body servamt, and if you played under the shade of the big walnut near the spring and the log cabin where Aunt Dilly used to tréat you to hoecake, oke” greehdv jowl and ?L you must have,learned faith in.ghpsts. ity | Dennis A. Mahoney's book, refersed | to, Is titled “The Prisoner of ‘State." | The types tell that it was printed at | New York in 1863," and fromhsenti ments the author huns at EgwiniM: Stanton; Secretary of War, I¥eel that something must have happened 'to Mahoney after publishing the book. | Mahoney was arrested at Dubugu; lowa, obviously for expressing pi | earned the unenviable distinction as jed. imperishably with the infamy of OLD, CAPITOL FROM THE NORTHWEST. put‘in Old Capitol Prison. The book is in the. Library of Congress. Here is the prefac ‘o Edwin M. of War, U. S. A “Sir: Having considered for some time to whom it was most appropriate tp ‘dedicate a work describing the kid- naping of American freemen by arbi- trary power and thelr incarceration wighiout trial or judgment of any court in military prisons, no one has occurred to my mind who has so well Stanton, Secretary yourself of having his name connect the acts of outrage, tyranny and des- potism which the book I hereby dedi- cate to.you will publish to the Ameri- can people. “You it was, sir. who after setting at liberty the victims immured at Forts Lafayette and McHenry by your predecessors in tyranny—Messrs. Cameron and Seward—and after caus- ing the great heart of the people to leap with joy that they should again be governed by the Constitution of | secession or antl-abolition thoughts. He was brought to Washington and their country and not by the will of & | partisan, you united in your persop | and your acts the treacherous tyranny of Seward and the arbitrary despot- ism of Cameron.” Farther in the book Mahoney writes: “I am one, sir, of many hun- dreds of victims of the despotism and the arbitrary power of which you have become the willing, servile and pensioned tyrant.”” As incidents of his Imprisonment in the Old Capitol he tells of the murder of two prison ers. He tells that Jesse W. Wharton, son of Dr. Wharton of Prince Georges County, was shot and killed by guard, Harrison Baker, 91st Penn | vania Regiment, and that the guard was ordered to fire by Lieut. Mulligan. Mahoney says Wharton was shot while he had his head out of dow of the prison. Mahoney tells that Henry Stewart, 23 on of Dr. Frederick Stewart of Baltimore, was killed by a sentry belonging to the 86th New York Volunteers. He writes that Stewart paid the sentry $50 to let him escape; that the sentry took the money and then Killed the | prisoner while trying to escape. Mahoney mm# = chapter on what he calls the kidnaping of John win- | pelled | Merryman of Baltimore, and says that | when Merryman was imprisoned at | Fort McHenry Chief Justice Taney | of the United States Supreme Court | issued a writ of habeas corpus that } the prisoner be brought before him. | The commandant of Fort McHenry, | Gen. George Cadwalader, refused to obey the writ, answering that the prisoner had been arrested by author- | ity of the President of the United | States. Mahoney quotes from Chief | Justice Taney’s opinion that no notice had been given to him (Taney) of the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus, and, in_his opinton, Justice Taney wrote: “I have exercised all the power which the Constitution and laws confer on me, but that power has been resisted by a force too strong for me to overcome.” Mahoney writes of the “suppression of the Maryland Legislature in Sep- tember, 1861, by the kidnaping of certain’ members of that body.” I find in this book the names of a few prisoners who were in the Old Capitol with Mahoney and they were: George W. Wilson, editor of the Marlborough | | 014 Gazette; Walter Bowie of Marl- | borough, Judge John H. Mulkey of Cairo, 1ll; Judge Andrew D. Duff of Benton, IIl; David Steward of Falr- | fleld, Jowa; J. Blanchard, Carbondale, 1L Judson D). Benedict, East Aurora, N. Y.; Joseph C. Wright, Mil ford, Pa.; John Apple, Aquila R. Allen, | John H. Wise, and Dr. Samuel H. Bunday of Marion, I; Dr. A. B. Hewitt of Chatham, Ili.. and John W. native of one of the counties nea Washington. In the Records of the Rebellion, find this inspection report on Old Cap itol Prison: “Headquarters, Military District ‘Washington, December 3, 1864 “Col. M. N. Wisewell, Commanding Military District of Washington. “Sir: I have the honor to submit the following inspection report of the con dition of the prisoners of war at this station for the week ending December 3, 1864: Conduct, good: cleanliness medium; clothing, fair; bedding, fair state of quarters. fair! state of mess house, medium; state of kitchen, me dium: food, quality, good; food, quin tity of, sufficient: water, good; sinks | ood. police of grounds, good: drain age, good: police of hespital, good: attendance on sick, regular: hospital diet, under medical direction: general health of prisoners, good; vigilance of guard, satisfactory “Remarks and suggestions: The con dition of the kitchen, Old Capitol Prison, is anything but creditable, con sidering the number of employes. The floor and tables were dirty and the walls dingy and blackened with smoke. Nothing in the culinary came up fe the mark, with the exception of the cooking utensile. In my last report 1 recommended whitewashing, and re spectfully suggest the same agaln, as it is really required. “Very respectfull; servant, A. M. RAPHALL 1 of your obedient Smith of Jacksonviile, Il1., “‘who'was a “Lieut. 6th Reg't, Vet. Res. and Inspecting Officer.” O E is quite apt to suppose that certain pests belong, in ' their deadly _perfection, . to modern times only.” But such is not the case with mosquitoes. According to a distin- guished entomologist attached to the Department of Agriculture, who fs held to be the foremost authority on what is sometimes called “The New Jersey canary,” his researches indi- cate that the inhabitants of anclent Greece were sometimes forced to abandon their dwellings to avold the attacks of mosquitoes. The citizens of Mionte, a rich city of Ionia, fled | from the ‘mosquitoes of Mileta, and Pergamo, a beautiful city in Asia Minor, was abandoned for the same reason. Sapor, King of Persla, was com- to raise the siege of Nisibis by a plague of gnats. Humboldt says that in certain regions of South Amer. ica the inhabitants pass the night burled in sand which covers them to the depth of three or four .inches, leaving out only the head, which is protected by a cloth. There is even a mosquito story which had the hardihood to attack THE MOSQUITO ROLE. tourist. Tsaac Weld, in his "Travgls Through North America,” says in ref. erence to Skenesborough, N. Y., that mosquitoes were very ferocious and plentiful there. “‘Gen. Washington told me,” he set down, ‘“‘that he was never ®o0 much annoyed by mosquitoes in any part of America as in Skenesborough ‘They used to bite through the thickest boot.” Now the boots of those days were very thick and mosquitoes were probably, 8o far as structure goes pretty much as they are tod: More over, the Father of Hi: unt; could not lie; but perhaps Mr. Weld could, or, more probably, one of the gentlemen may have tndulged a sense of humor. Store and Home in Hotel. Keepers of stores in a miilion-dallar . hotel being constructed at. Nice, France, will also have their hornes in the buflding. The plans call for Mv ing quarters in connection with the elaborately decorated salesr The Jhotel will have 600 rooms . the veracity of George Washington, or possibly th.n./ot a cotemporary baths. The ground floor will form an arcade for the stores. reached Miss Caroline