Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, July 14, 1889, Page 11

THE OMAHA DAILY BEK: SUNDAY, JULY 14, 1880-SIXTEEN PAGES. AN INDIAN TRAINING SCHOOL, | Progress of the Santee Normal Training Eshool. CIVILIZATION OF THE RED MAN. Taking a Look at the Buildings—How They Live and What They Do The Kitchen, the Farm and the Workshops. Elevating tho Indian. N1ORRARA, Neb., July 12.—[Special to Tne BEE.]—Fifty-five years ago the *‘Land of the Dakotas,” since made po- otic by the genius of Longfellow, was first visited by Dr. Thomas 8. William- gon, followed two years later by Rev. Stephen R. Riggs, D.D., with a view of establishing Protestant missions among the Sioux Indians. These fathers of a written language and education among the Sioux romained with them almost to the time of their death, rearing chil- dren in their midst, passing through the terrible Minnesota massacre of 1862, and dying in peace of mind, satisfied that their early struggles were not in vain, and that their sons and daughters were taking up the work where they left it. Situated twelvo miles east of Nio- brara, on the Nebraska bank of the Mis- souri river, is Santee agency. Located on the hillside one sees a group of eight large buildings, two of which are of modern architecture. . “WIIAT ARE THOSE BUILDINGS?” is the most natural question in the world for a stranger to ask. ‘“‘They are the buildings belonging to the Santee nor- mal training school, for the *8xclusive use of Indian children from the various ngencies,” is the reply, ‘‘and it is under the control of the American Missionary association, being its own praperiy.” This institution was founded nineteen years ago by Rev. Alfred L. Riggs, the eldest son of Rav. Stephen R. Riggs, D.D. From small beginnings it has grown into the second largest Indian trainiug school in the country, while its standard is much above any other. I want to take the readers of THE BER ON A TOUR OF INSPES ON. First we will call on Mr. Riggs at his residence, in front of which isa beauti- ful lawn. He greets the visitor with an unaffected, kindly smile, and bids him be seated in the large sitting- room, off from which is his office. He isa busy man, every little detail is under his eye, and if he has much to do he will ask to be excused until the task is finiched, while you are left to look through magazines, newspapers and books; and one wonders how he gets time to even cut the leaves of the mag- wzines, let alone read them. He is a quiet conversationalist, thoughtful and careful in expression, direct in applica- tion, plain spoken, a vein of quiet Jumor intermingling ,but always elevat- ing. The plun of living .might be termed “THE COTTAGE HOMES,” since six of the eight buildings are de- voted to sleeping {:urpvses almost ex- clusively, especially with the pupils and those without families. The Dakota Home, under the supervision of a ma- tron, is for the large girls, where is taught sewing, fancy work and ironing. The young men’s hall is similar in_pur se, while the boys’ cottage and the irds’ nest are separate buildings for the younger children. Whitney hall is a new building, built from funds donated by a gentleman in New Eng- land by that name, and is used for the more advanced boys, and as a residence for the local treasurer of the ussocia- tion. THE DINING HALL ie the largest structure of all, the main art being 42x92, three stories. Here G Am AR vaisity ¢ el Tiwith & e Lo s capacity of 200 at table, the kitchen, R T ta vy e RISt tes is for teachers and employes, and, when completed, in the third story there will be rooms for the older girls. The boys and girls have their various duties to perform here—ussistant cooks, wait- ers, dishwashers, bakers, etec., to which they are detailed for a month and relieved and placed in differ- ent_capacities. They are cheerful in their work, are fed well, though the tood is plain, and everything goesalong smcothly under perfect discipline. THE FDUCATIONAL FACILITIES of the institution are of tho very host. The ladies and gentlemen are from the enst and come among these people with & puredesire to do good. The method of teaching is" the best that educated and christian effort can bring to bear upon & race whose intellect in yet com- paratively dull. In raising the standard of higher education for the Indian their progress has necessarily boen slow. But their success in the last decade hasbeen such as to make a revolution in the In- @ian mind, and he now is anxiously sceking for educational advantages. The school b\lHdh)g is large and the work methodical. Kach boy and girl is taught a half-day in schooland a half- day in industrial_work, thus preparing them in mind and body. THE INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION, in o certcin sense, is at the very foun- dation of the work and fundamental to Mr. Riggs’ theory of education, Heo said: ‘*We beliove in it as a condition to true self-knowledge, and as the necessary uvenue to the knowledge of the world without, Industrial educa- tion does not mean merely teaching how to make a living, but rather how to enter into life; and our aim in all occu- pations, in the house. the farm or the shops, is to make all subserve thisend.” The shoemaking department display excellent work in stitching. The car- nter work is maiuly devoted to the oining of the various angles, table making, truss work, ete.,some of which is excellent. The work in the black- smith shop shows up excoptionally good, and the work done here, the superin- tondent declares, can be placed beside any blacksmith’s work in Nebraska. THE PRINTING OFFICE, of which T BeE correspondent has a selfish pride of being the first superin- tendent and laying the foundation stone of a useful art among a heathen people, is complete in every detail, having an eight-column Acmo oylinder press, a Banborn paper cutter, & Gordon jobber, roof press, ete. The Word Cuarrier Erglish), Iapi Ou{;n (Indiau), and An- Indian) are the three regular pub- mflunu while the missions ulong the Missiourl rivor and elsewhere on the reservations give 1t a good deal of jog work. It is a well-equipped ofice, un the work turned out is first-class. As compositors the Indians do woll, espe- elally i their own language, and this branch of mechanical industry 15 the only one that has been utilized, five of the boys having been kept at this branch since its start, the oldest aver- aging a thousand ems in forty-five min- utes, It isa trade they hike, A MISSIONARY SCHOOL is mmwong its prncipal features. *‘In- dians are so thoroughly controlled in all thairideas and customs by their heathen religion,” said Mr. Riggs, ‘‘that no change of life is possible except th-ough achange of religion. Their :eligious philosophy makes their idea of life so wrong that nothing but the true reli- glon can set them straight. Education ana civilizat'on are of use only as in- struraents of the gospel. Our aim, tharefore, is to brin g everything into a religious Atmosphere and make chris- tianity the ruling power of life; and we confidently expeot o ur pupils to become, in one way and ano ther, missionaries of the new life they find.” A visit to_the Suntee training school is well worth any one’s time, if within reasofinble distance, But to catch a real Indian boy. one should see him in his wild state and at this school, where the comparison of dirt and the effect of soap, trimmed hair and the garb of civ- ilization transforms the Indian youth into a respectabio human. I have seen them in nearly. all their stages—in war paint, in dance-paint, in the sun-dance and in the he athen funeral; in his teepe house. his log-house abode, in camps and in churc hes. Has he pro gressed? Is he wort h the bother, the expense, and the ann oyance? . 1f the neg ro is, if the mountain pink is, if the man in the gutter is, then why not the future of the Indian? But don’t make a fool of him. Ep A, Fry. R T The Missing Strain. Written for The Bee by Rorison Sinclair, Ifound in youth a sweet melodious strain that now is dead; 1 know not why for what accursed thing the . music fled. 1t was the solace of my wayward mood—in timo of griof Breathing the monotone of saduess with swift relief; And in the day when gladness was supreme the quickened strain Rang the rich cadences unceasingly of joy again, Of all the gifts of God I wished this mine— o be the string Where the resounding voices out of life might sigh and sing, Chanting the threnodies of grief and pain with minstrelsy, Bearing to other souls the ministries it bore to me; Shouting hosannas for the victory of truth and right As step by step the trampling host advanced toward the lignt. But He who gave hath snatched the boon away with strange disdain. So shall I mourn through all my passing years the missing strain; But this [ know, that in some other time, afar or near, It will be found, and through some other soul break loud and clear. MUSIOAL AND DRAMATIO. forth Robert Mantell began his season in ‘‘Mon- bars” at the new California theater, San Francisoco. Mrs. Langtry will begin her English provincial tour early in the autumu ut Not- tingham. Mr. Belasco desires to have it particularly understood that he will not ‘‘coach” Mrs. Leslie Carter for the stage. The theatrical season just now is in its usual summer cclipse, a great majority of the playhouses being closed. E. H. Sothern’s season has closed, and he will rest until his reappeirance at the Lyceum, New York, next month. Annic Pixley is 1n Paris looking for French comedies. She aud her husband, R. M. Fulford, are guests of Buffalo Bill. The four-act piece writteu for W, H. Crane by Brander Mattkews and George fl. Jessop will be called, **On Probation,” and 18 said to be in the nature of a farce-comedy with a strong vein of sentimental interest. The reports of Miss Mary Andcrson’s pres— ent state of health are far from satisfactory. According to last accounts sho was stayiag at Tunbridge Wells, and keeping absolutely quiet, receiving no visitors whatever, The New York public does not hanker after Chinese drama. ‘The recent attempt to popularize it ut the Windsor theater was o failure. Manager Murtha loses nothing, however, as he merely rented the house. Frederick Warde .s at his summer hoie, River Rest, Bound Brook, N. J. He intends making a featuro of “The Mountebank” next season, and will carry special scenery and properties to give it spectacular effect. The scene of Henry E, Dixey's new play, The Seven ages,” 1s laid in New York, an it is said will give Dixey a far greater chance to show nis versatile talents than was af- forded him by ‘‘Adonis.” He plays eight different characters. Surah Bernhardt forfeited £1,000 to George fidwardes in breaking her engugement to play at the London Gaiety, and straightway contracted to act ut the London Lyceum un- der the managewent of Mr. Mayer. This curious procceding is likely to end in law suits, Royal dramatists are being serious com- potitors to professioual authors. Thus the fioe ot Sweden's oneact historical play, “Castle Cronberg,” is to bo produced next season in six different citios—Stuttgart, Aix- la-Chapelle, Halle, Nuremberg, Breslau and Konisberg. Madame Franzska Ellmenreich, visited this countr, who some years ago and quickly established berself us a_favorite among German playgoers, has abandoned her position at the Hamburg Stadt-theater, and will join Herr Barnay's forces at tho Berlin theater. A now theater is to be erected for next year's “Passion Play” at. Oberammergau, which will cost. £5,000, and the now costumes and scenery will involve a further outlay of £1,500. The prince regentof Bavaria has or- dered soveral alterations to bo made 1n tho text of the play. The ['owager Lady Freake has presented Mr. Richard Mansfleld with the historica! shoc-buckles which belonged to David Gar- rick, and which Lady Froake purchased at Lady Harrington's sale—the same that she leut to Sothern when he played the part of David Gurrick in London, Miss Lydia Thompson arrived in England w fortnight ago, and returns to America in autumn with the intention of residing here for the future. Hoforc she leaves her na- tive country she will have a_farewell benefit at Drury Lano theator,which has been kindly placed ut her disposal by Mr. Harris. The example of Mr. William Terris, who formerly used to be Mr. Henry Irving's jeune premier, and who ufterwards abundoned that position in order to star at the Adelphi in melodrama, is now to be followed by Mr who will be rememvered 1610 this country of the Lyceum Theater company, adame Sarah Hernhardl will play “Lena" for the first time in London at the Lyceum in July, repeating this performance three times. Tosca” follows for three nights, then “Phodre," couvreur,” “Fedora” and “Theodors,” the n finishing on August 10. & Wost, the famous re, will dissolve part- ing amossed wealth , they have concluded Mr. Thatcher clain the right to the vriginal nawe of Lhe organ zation, and he will coutinue to keep i before the public, but Mr. Primrose asserts that ho wili take the road with & pauy under tha name of Primrose & West's min- strels, Mr. West s io the east and has not been heard from o this subject.” Life. Waiter 8. Peaslce. A littlo bano at its mother's breast, A little child with its oh b zest, A bappy youth with hie huppy bopes, A traveler ou life's wostern siopes, A gray heired man with falteriog tread Wi mourns aad longs for the dear oaes cad, . A wora, old fave tnat is white aud cold, And life 1 ended; its tale is Lold. — Went Him One Better, Kearney Enterprise: First bo;—“My a is & millionaire. He lives iu style on h; blurr!-.l’; econd Boy—*“That's nothing, My lives on bluffs. He is & lawy urq" 7 KEPT EASTER WITH RIS GOD. The Last Days of the Loper Pries of Molokai. TIRED BY A FIFTY-MILE TRAMP How a Robust North Carolinan Real- ized That He Was Growing Old— Edison Works By Musio— Beranger's Last Song. Current Anecdotes. The London Tablet in its account of the last days of Father Damien, the he- roic leper priest of Molokai, says: On the 28th he took to kis bed, andon the 30th began his direct preparation for death by a general confession and re- newal of his vows. Next day he re- ceived the holy viaticum. ‘‘You see my hands,” he said; “‘all the wounds are healing and the crust is becoming black. You know thatisa sign of death. Look at my eyes, too; I have seen so many lepers die that I can’t be mistaken. Death 18 not far off. Ishould have liked to soe the bishop againj butle bon Dieu is calling me to keep Easter with Him- selfl God be blessed!” On April 2 Father Conrardy gave him extreme unc- tion. “How good God is,” he' sad during the day. *‘The work of the lep- ers is assured, and so I’'m no longer ne- cessarv and will soon go ‘up yonder.’” “When you are up above, father, you will not forget those you leuve orphans?” “*Oh, no! If I have any credit with God I will intercede for all in the Lepro- serie.” A few days of respite, even of rally- ing and hope, followed. The good Sis- ters of Charity often visited him, Ev- erybody admired his wonderful pa- tience. ‘‘He, so ardent, so lively, so robust, was thus nailed down to his mis- erable couch, yet without much pain. He was laid on the ground on a wretched mattress, like the poorest leper. We had the greatest difficulty to get him to accept abed. A d how poorly off he was. He who had spent so much money to relieve the lepers had so far forgotten himself that he had not a_change of linen or bed- clothes.” On the 13th he had a relapse and all _hope was atan end. A iittle after midnight he received holy com- munion for the last time and began to lose consciousness. The next day he still recognized his comrades, but could not speak, though from time to time he affoctionately pressed their hands. On the 15th his agony began, and soon all was over. He died without any effort, as il going tosleep. After his death all marks of leprosy disappeared from his face and the wounds in his hands were quite dried. Straunge to say, at his own request, he was buried under a large pandanus tree. When he first landed at Molokai he had no dwelling and was obliged to sleep for several nights under the shade of this tree, antd l(})lr this reason he desired to be buried there. Every one must know that Senator Vance, of North Carolina,isa great story teller, says a Washington corre- spondent. Not that I mean by this to assert that he deviates from the truth, but he delights to recount some of the striking and humorous occurrences that come under his notice. I caught hima few nights since in a herdic on his way home to his residence on Massachusetts avenue, and remarked to him that I felt tired, us I had done a good day’s work. “‘Tired?” he said. ‘‘That reminds me of a man in North Carolina. You must know that way up in the mountains of North Carolina, in Buncombe county, there exists & man named Tom Wilson. Tom is and always has been one of my ardent friends and supporters. He is fully six feet three, magnificently built, without one ounce of superfluous flesh. He used to bea mighty R atne terror of every one who had regard for physical strength. The last time I was in North Carolina I chanced to meet Tom and I observed that he was looking very dejected. ‘Why, what is the mat- ter with you? You look as if you had not a friend on earth.’ ‘Vance,’ re- plied Tom, ‘I realize I am not long or this earth. I am getting oid. My old woman made a ‘kit’ of butter the other day; itonly weighed forty pounds. I merely had to carry it to our market town, which required me to cross *‘Mount Mitchell’ on my way there and back—a simple matter of fifty miles—and do you believe it, Vance, when I got home I was downright tired. Now,” said the genial senator, “if you have done as much work as my worthy friend Wilson did, you have a right to claim that you are tired.” As I could not do so I am afraid that the senator thought I was merely ‘‘shamming.” Thomas A, Edison, ‘‘the Wizard of Menlo Park,” arrived in Pittsburg the other day, A Dispatch reporter had a long chat with hum at his hotel, and here are some of the things he said: ‘“Yes, I am a hard worker, I hardly ever sleep more thau four hours per day, and I could keep this up for a year, Some times I sleep ten hours,but [ don’t feel well when [do. If I could sleep eight hours, as most men do, I would wake up feeling budly. My eyes would hurt me, and I would have a tough time to keep uwake. I inherit this from my father. He is a remarkable old man, eatinglittle and sleeping less. I have often known him, when I was a boy, to sit up all night talking politics with a friend or swapping etories. I eat abouta pound a day,and my food 18 very simple, consisting of some toast, a_ little potato or something of that kind. You know wheun I am work- ing on anything I keep at it night and day, sleeping a few hours with m clothes on, I never take them off; don’t even wash my face; couldn’t think of such a thing, and in this condition I take my meals. If I were to remove my clothes when I slept I would get up feeling out of shape and with no desire to go to work. ‘No. 6 is my den in the laboratory, and I shut myself in there and hustle. “I sleep from 10 to 2 o'clock in the morning, and then I jump up and go to work again as fresh as a bird. This is all the aleur I need. *‘But I tell you we have lots of fun in the laboratory. Some ‘time ago I had forty-two men working with me on the incandescent lamp in a big building. I hired a German to play an organ for us all night and we worked by the music. About 1 o’clock a farmer brought in our lunch, and we ate from a long table. At first the boys had some difficulty in keeping awake, and would go to sleep under stairways and in the corners. Wo employed “watchers to bring them out,and in time they gotused to it, After a while I didn’t need forty-two of them, and I discharged six of them, Well, do you know, I couldn't drive them away. They stayed there and worked for nothing. ‘'Oh, we enjoy this kind of life! Every now and then I hire a big schooner, and we go down the bay, my men and myself, to fish for a few days. Then we come back and buckle down to | it again,” 1 have heard au anecdote of John Gil- bert, says a writer in the Boston Post, which illustrates alike Qq. own powers of memory and the chatacteristics of an old-time Washington street dealer in dry goods on & \‘er{ limited scale. Mr, Gilbert had a cont in he intended to enact a certain parti/ibwas a suitable garment for this purpose, with the ex- ception, as a friend suggested, of the buttons, which were’ cloth of the same color. The friend’s suggestion, with which Mr. Gilbert agreed, was that a button of a mun&r hue should be used, and of a different material, The comedian then memembered that some twenty years before he had seen button of this kind'in the shop of Quincy Tufts, that quaint, old fashioned dealer who wus never known tobe ‘ot t” of any article which had ever been in his stock. So Mr. Gilbert went to Mr. Tufts’ shop—and a queer little place it was.as every old-time Bostonian knows— and instend of asking his friend, the propietor. for what he wanted, trusted to his memory to locate it. Putting his haad on an upper shelfin the band- box of the shop, he took from under a pile of clothes a package which actually contained the very buttons e was in want of. The English papers state that Mr. Gladstone, who will be eighty years old on the 29th of next December, is in the enjoyment of excellent health, and is able to fell trees for exercise with much of his former vigor. This state- ment has been copied all over the United States, as if it were something remarkable that a man who has reached Mr. Gladstone’s age should be able to indulge in any ective exercise. We have in Washington many gentlemen, sl\)\'s the Washingwon Press, who are older than the great English states- man; and who are alert, both mentally and physically. Ex-Associute Justice William Strong, of the supreme court, is one of them. Judge Strong is in his eighty-second year, but gives no indi- catioa that he 1a physically infirm. He is about five feet ten in height, and is rather slight. His hair is snow white, his eye blue, and his face cleanly shaven, with a good healthy color in it. He walks erect, and his step is as firm and elastic a8 A 'man many years ounger. Judge Strong does not imitate Mr. Gladstone in the use of the ax, but he ‘is as nqunll{ a good pedestrian, and to his love of walking he attributes very largely his good health and cheerful temperament. Booth and Barrett taught a little les- son of modesty the other night. They appeared at the Brondway theater, New York, and announced their desire to see ‘“The Oolah.” Manager Frauk San- gor found that the private boxes were all filled and that the floor was also monopolized. In despair he looked at the balcony—the plebeian balcony—and informed Messrs. Booth and Barrett that the only seats in the house at their disposal were, he was sorry 10_sav, in the balcony. “The _balcony’s good enough for me,” said Booth, with a smile. The tragedians took the places and stayed through the performunce. Later in the evening @ tolerably well known actor presented; himself at the Broadway, with his staress, and asked for a Mr. Snnger offered a balcony seat. ‘No, Frank,” was the reply. ‘I am not 80 anxious to. see your show as all that. I don’t mind staying through *The Oolah’ in a box, but l}’ll be hanged if I'll make an exhibition of myself in the gallery.” The French papers dre telling how the poet Pierre Jeau de Beranger hap- pened to write his last song. Some time after Beranger had bade active lite and his muse godd-by a cake baker called upon Bim at his villa'in Passy. The cake baker wis about to be married and he wished the poet to write a little wedding song for him. Beranger re- fused flnflg to do it. The cake baker was terribly disappointed by this re- fusal and shed four or five simple French tears as he apologized for his presump- tion in asking Beranger to write poetry about him. Four weeks later Duke N. traveled some ninety miles to impor- tune the poet to write a song for his wedding, which was to take place shortly. Beranger demurred. The duke was persistent. Eventually Be- ranger said: “I will write a song on two conditions; first, that vou give the poor of Passy 600 francs, and sec- ond, that vou give our cake baker 600 francs more for a wedding present. Ihurt the poor fellow’s feelings re- cently by refusing to write a song in honor of his marriage.” The duke re- plied that one of Beranger’s songs was dearer to him than 1,200 francs, and promised to fulfill the poet’s conditions. Beranger’s last song was sung at the duke’s wedding, and the cake baker of Passy got 600 francs the next day. The thousands of American readers of Punch will regret to hear of the se- rious illness of Mr. Charles Keene, who for over’ thirty-five years has enter- tained the admirers of that journal by his comic drawings, It is said that for many years Mr. Keene endeavored in vain'to make headway with the propri- etors of Punch, but was met at every point by the opposition of John Leech, who was at that time the most powerful member of the staffl. Young Keene versisted, however, establishing him- self in a garret for a studio, directly opposite the office of the paper. His work made its way for itself, and he lived to become one of the most famous of ull'the Punch artists. It is feared that his work will not long be seen in the columns of the journal. This en- mity of Leech’s toward Keeno was, i deed, & very unusual thing. Gentle- hearted, kind to the last degree to young artists, his steady opposition can scarcely be explained, unless attributed to jealousy, which seems hardly reason- able under the circumstances. One other cause may be suggested, however: Leech’s father was a man of humble origin, and kept a coffee house on Lud- eate Hill, but his son was well edu- cated with Thackéray, at the Charter house. It is said, h Vever&hat one time Keene good-ngturedly pbked fun at the artist, which' resented most bitterly for a time, Governor Green, of Ngw Jersey, en- gaged the services of d'‘juvenile boot- black at Trenton the other day, and as the lad plied his brushes the governor plaunntly inquired: ‘“How’s ullnesi‘ Johnme?” “Name ' din’t Johnnie,” laconically answored"t‘hz lad; ‘‘name’s Tommy,”” Slightly'“taken aback by Tommy’s indisposition “to be sociable the governor said rothing for awhile, but, finally, deciding‘to impress the youngster to a lumpl extent, he re- marked: **Well, Tol n‘i‘y. 1 iuen ou don’t know who I am, @0 you?” Yes knowed you long ago,” said Tommy. **Well, who am I¥” “Yer Bob Green’s father.” The London News tells this interest- ing anecdote in a sketch of the late Laura Bridgman: When Carlyle imper- tinently asked: *What great or noble thing has America ever done?”’ some- body replied: ‘*She has produced a girl deaf, dumb and blind from infancy, who from her own earnings has sent a barrel of flour to the starving subjects of Great Britaio in Ireland.” Russet shades are fashionable for boating and tennis. These are more serviceable than the white or gray costumes, but they are made daiuty in abpearance by white braid trimmings ‘and a blouse of White Chinese washing silk, which ean be laundried once and again, appearing fresh and new after each cleaning, T0 QFFICE SEEKERS. e Palace Offce Bu ling of Omaha THE BEE BUILDING. A Superb Court, Perfect Ventilation, Thoroughly Fire Proof. WELL LIGHTED OFFICES, HARD-WOOD FINISH, TILED CORRIDORS Fifty-Eight Vaults, ILighted by Electricity, Night@® Day Elevator Service THE BEE BUILDING, Seventeenth and Farnam, offers attractions for Professiona Men, Insurance Companies, Brokers, Real Estate Agents and Business Men, who desire elegant, commodious and fire-proof offices at reasonable terms. For particulars apply at the Counting Room, New Bee Build- mg. WITH ALL A SISTER'S LOVE, A Tender Story From the Wicked Parisian Boulevards. “AND WILL HENOT COME AGAIN?" How a Former Belle Still Waits and Watches for Her Sallor Who Went Away Thirty Years Ago. 5 Little Romances. Georges Carton-—that is not his name —came to Paris from Charleroi, and soon after his arrival here he met Mlle. Blanche Duvigne, who was from the same town. She told him that her mother had recently died, and that, all alone in the world she had come up to the capital in hope of securing asituation as governess or lady’s companion. She only had a few francs left, but some of her town friends were helping her to find a place, so she was notdiscouraged. Georges promised to see her again, and the next day he did call to take her out for a ride, and then, after a dinner at a cheap restaurant, they went to a small theater. A few weeks passed, they found that they liked each other very much, and as they could not talk of marrying, the young man not being in possession of his fortune, they, they— well, they entered into an arrangement which you can quite easily understapd. Theirs was a happy existence, for Georgos went out very little,and seldom alone, and Blanche never for a momeont doubted the future. The child they had died at the age of three years, and this was her only trouble. When Georges’ father breathed his last he went to Char- leroi totake possession of the fortunc and the wife already picked out for him by his mother and relatives. Indeed, it was the old man’s express wish that the young couple should be married, and everything had been arranged botween the two families toward that end. Nevertheless, the future bride had her doubts as to Georges’ past, and she uestioned him closely, In the prov- nces Paris does not hold a very ood reputation, and people at Char- eroi were curious to know what Georges had been doing outside of busi- uness hours in the wicked city. So what did this fiancee do but come mysteriously from her town up to Paris with an aunt to make inquiries, and very soon after her arrival she gota letter in which she was told a good deal, and was advised to go to No, — Rue Galilee, and ask for Mme, Fougere. She put on her hat, jumped into a cab, snd rode to the address given, and her heart beat violently when she went up the stairs and rang the bell, A young woman opened the door. * Blanche | “Louise ! How glad I am to see you llld,!mw good of you to Lave thought of me. Both girls had been brought up in the same convent; they knew each other well and they flew into each other’s arms. Presently Louise made known the object of her visit, and Blanche exclaimed: “Is it you, then, dear, that he is going to marry? He told me all with the cxcoption of the name.” “‘But I do not want him; marry him,” cried Louise. Blanche continued: ‘‘Listen, dear, aad bo guided byme. In that'letter were things that were quite true once, but they are not now. I was alone, without friends, no support, and I had no hope. [ met Georges; he was kind, and I gave myself up to him without conditions, I will never —_— years, but our child—the last tie that oxisted betw: us—has disappeared, for wo long since ceased to love each other as we once did. You must marry him. Marriage 1s the ouly possible career for a woman, and 8s Georges is an excellent fellov: he will make you happy.” “Yes,” replied Louise, *‘but I cannot wed & man who has kept & mis-—" *‘Ah, my darling, if it had not been for me 'perhaps he might have had sev- eral.” Well, Blanche’s advice prevailed,and they werc married; theceremony over, the couple went on the customary jour- ney, and after havin Switzerland returned and settled down in Paris. While the apartment was being prepared they lived atn hotel, and sho would not let him have any- thing to do with the arranging of it. Finally all was ready for their occupan- cy, and avening. When he got in from the store he found the table laid for three. **An old schoolmate of mine,” she said in answer to his inquiring look. **We shall need some one to look after the house, keep the linen, and regulate the accounts. Iam going to give her 2,000 francs.a year, and I am sure we will profit by it.”” The door opened and when hesaw Blanche enter he began to mumble something, but his wife stopped him, saying: “*Keep quiet; she has withheld noth- ing from me, and if I am happy with ou, it is to her I owe the happiness. éhu has her room on the second floor, and I have absolute faith in you both,” Mme. Carton had two children, butin giving birth to the second she sacrificed her own life, and it was Blanche who looked after the babies. She gave up everything for their sakes, and then she herself fell ill. Yesterday and the day before the house in the Rue Marbeuf was covered with mournful goods, and to-day there was a hourse and funeral carriages before the door. Poor Blancho is now out at Pere-la-Chase and Georges is ulone in the world with his two little girls, 1 followed her body to the grave and [ have just returned fvrmn there. A romantic story is_connected with the life of a woman who frequents the railroad station at Manchester, N. H. She is about fity years old, but now bent with care, and her long handsome tresses streaked with gray; she always curries a traveling-bag in her hand, and ae the crowds arrive she scans each pevson ocagerly ana then turns sadly away. ‘I'he woman some thirty years ago, was one of the belles of the city. courted by many, The favored lover, however, followed the sea, One du{ ho left for a voyage. Their troth had been plighted, and on his return he was to lead her to the altar, but the sailor lover never re- turued and no message came to explain his absence. The grief and disappoint- ment caused the woman a long i, When she recovered she insisted that her lover.was true, and even if he was otherwise she would remain constant, For this reason she goes to the railroad station to greet him home, and almost évery day for the last thirty years, win- ter and summer, spring and autumn, in fair weather and foul, she has been there on this errand, She is retiring fu her disposition, and nover frequents the waiting rooms or mingles with the crowd upon the platform, The best society in the exclusive resort of Cape May was astonished to learn the other evening that May Sommers, the nineteen-year-ol® daughter of one of the ‘em“nlin summer residents, had eloped with her father’s French cook, When Mr. Sommers came down the laster part of May he brought a hand- some French cook, Mr, Coguillent, with him and {nstalled him in the positon of chef, Coquillent was young and am- itious. In the leisure of the kitchen e was wont Lo regale the other servants with tales of his noble origin, and it ‘@ were together several | soon became apparent that the daughuer visited places in | they were'to dine there that | of his employer had singled him out for her especial favor. The other morning Coquillent asked for a day's lenve of ubsence in order to do some shopping in New York. An hour or two afterward Miss Sommers told her mother that she believed she would go for a short drive on the beach. That was the last seen of either. It has since been learned that both boarded an outgoing train for Camden, where they were married by u justice. Mrs. Coquillent is a tall and vivacious brunette and has been a great belle here for the last two years. She is a bold swimmer and sailor. A marriage has just occurred at Port Jorvis, N. Y., under romantic circum- stances of parties long past the serip- tarally allotted seventy year limit of human life. Joseph Conkling, the groom, ie in his cighty-fourth year, while the bride, Mrs. Maria Edwards, js in her seventy-fourti year. The marriage ceremony was performed by one Rev. S. W. Galloway, of the Metho= dist church., The groom, a tine looking and active senior, with a profusion of iron gray hair, has long resided in Binghamton, and is possessed of an ample fortune. The bride, who is well preserved and sprightly for her years, has for some time resided here. Over balf a century ago Joseph Conkling and Marina Tuttle were mneighbors and lovers, living with their parents near Batavia, N. Y. The course of true love } exorable parents. id not run smooth with them. It was the old story of the penniless suitor, cruelly frowned upon and turned awny by the maiden’s well-to-do and in- The disappointed lovers went their respective ways and found other consorts, from whom in the course of time they were purted by death. Thus bereaved aud after many years of separation the old-time lovers met again by chance,and the happy sequel is told in the announcement of their nuptials and departure on a wed- ding journey. CONNUBIALITIES, Maggie Mitchell, having relieved herself of Mr. Paddock, is now Mrs. Abbott. For an elderly lady of quict tastes Maggio is doing quite well. Now the story is that a Frenchwoman of rank and wealth hus eloped with one of Buffalo Bill's half-breeds and is on her way 10 America. Miss Florence Little, of Blacks, 8. C., ‘wha is being tried iu the court of general sessions 8t Yorkville for bigamy married two men in the same week, A Titusville paper tells of a novel wedding tour, The young man, who could not leava town, purchased §5 worth of tickets for the wmerry-go-round, and they proceeded to ride to their hearts' content. The eldest daughter of the prince of Wales, who is to marry the earl of Fufe, is taid to have but little claim to good loo! Her face is long and angular, but the e; pression is pleasing Of the three princoses the younsen is the prettiest. They ull dress alike, and are very quiet in public, but are vivacious enough when by themselves, Joseph Conkling, aged eighty-three, and Mi arin [Edwards, sged seventy-three, wi married at Port Jarvis, N, the other day. Fifty years ago they ted to wed, but the parents of the “girl” interfered because Mr. Coukling was not well off in worldly goods. Mr. Conkiing is now “‘well fixed,"” and there is no doubt of his ability wrrovlda @ home for his bride, t happencd as an odd coincidence that three intended bridegrooms who failed to make connecticns were obliged to take the way-freight iu crder to reach their destina- tions in Warsaw, Pa., vicinity, two or three days ago. During the ride dm\{/ exchanged confidences. Onc was due at arsaw a1 o'clock, but by mukln[f geod time across lots would not be over half an bour late for his nuptials. From Warasdin, in that & spi haring Dominico, aged eighty-three, Las boen led to the wated: monial alar by a tramway conductor of that disirict thirty-seven years her junior. To make the case still more 1mposing, the bride was accompanied to church by her mother, who 18 no less than one hundred and seven- teen yoars of age. The old lady s said to have been 1 un acstacy of flullgtl ot haviog been allowed to live long enough to see her ‘child” warried, tia, it is reported