Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, April 11, 1891, Page 9

i ( | | | Pages 9 to 12 OMAHA, SATURDAY APRIL 11, 1801-TWELVE PAGES. A SONG OF POLLY, Travelers' Reeord, Polly the kettle sings, "Theré's a puft of steam like fairy wings, A frogrance of Oolong stealing; Dainty china costly set, Fragilo as frailest of eggshell, yot Strong in my housewife's dealing. 1t's hiey for tonst, and ho for teal 01d reminiscences brougnt to me Over the tea with Polly; There's the frazment of song whon hearts were young, A trembling minor never sung. Hushed in tears from Polly. For Polly and T, ay, hey for toast, Ho for tho tea, 100, who can boast + Of youth and love forever! Let broken heart and hint of wrong Find cheerier note in the kettle's song, Striving with brave endeavor. Bo over the crisp brown toast for two, And tea in the old cups quaint and blue, Heigho for bygone folly ! Though yellowest hair has turned to white, Old songs to 1 yet tonight We love on, I and Polly | e THE OLD DRAWING MASTER. MacMillan's Magazie, Tt §s many years since, but T etill re- member as though it were but yester- day, the long, low, dusty room to which 1, with about a dozen other girls, went for our weekly drawing l¢sson. I think the school was chiefly patronized b - tisuns penters, decorators, desig ersin a small way, who toiled of an evening to improve themselves in some gort of drawing which might be useful in their business, We, the young ladies, certainly did not toil, neither on the whole did we greafly improve. I used to wonder how our master could go on, week aftor week, patiently correct- ing the same mistakes, cutting the blunt chalks, trying in his gentle,weary voice to impress the most elementary rules on the minds of his careless pupils. Ho was a very little man, slightly bent and twisted, with a delicate refined face and bright eyes, who spoke English with a foreign a nt. We did not know his history, or even his country,or how happened to settls in our smoky, northern town. It seemed to us that he bad lived there always, and in all his life he hud done nothing but teach,teach, teach. *“Are you ever tired of it?” one day. *Tired—yes!” he said with his habit- ual smile. “But one does not mind being tired, Miss Ellen; it is my work, you see.” “Such unrewarded work!” I could not help saying it,as 1 looked down the long row of desks, on which lay drawings in every stage of badness. His eyes fol- lowed mine with a funny twinkle in them. “Certainly, I do feel sometimes that it would be pleasant to teach those who truly wished to learn. They none of them work, those young ladies. Ah!in our old stydip iv was different. What ambition! ut—" Mr. Hirsch stopped short, shrugged his bent shoulders, and began to put away the drawings and prepare the room for the next class. I remained to finish a chalk study; T think Iwas the only one of his lady pupils who worked with zeal. Presently he came upand looked over my shoulder. “Pretty well!” ke said. “You have a feeling for form, Miss Ellen. It is a pity you do not devote more time to painting; you might, perhaps, do something.” “Do you really think so?” “Well, it might be so with time and pains,” said my master slowly. *You are rocoptive, ~If we cannot create, it is always something if we can receive and distribute. And I have, perhaps, a few secrets—I have learned n«)mot{\inu. 1 am no artist myself, but I would like, if a1t may be, to make one artist.” “But,” 1 ventured to ask, ‘‘why are you no artist, you who know so much? Why do you not yourself paint?” He spread out his hands smiling. “Tt is too late—I am too old—I have no time for painting. Once, indepd, I had my dreams—but not now.” “Ah, what a pity!” T said. “Not at all—no, when one grows old one does not cease dreaming; one’s dreams alter, that is all. I have my dream always,” said my master, still emiling, . ‘We were interrupted by a ring at the outer door. Mr. Hirsch wentand opened it. and, after ‘a short parley with some one outside, returned, carrying a huge, square parcel. As it seemed heavy, 1 went to his assistance, and between us we got it into a little inner room which he reserved for his own use. *“This is my own business,” he said. “My pupils might laugh at it,though T have no reason to be ashamed. You see 1 do whatever work comes to my hand.” As he spoke he took off the cloth that covered the parcel and disclosed a large wooden punu'l on which was faintly dis- cernable a painting, representing a swan with two necks, swimming in a very blue rivor. It was a signboard! “This poor swan looks just ready to siug his death song, or perhaps I should say songs, since e has two throats,” #aid my master; “but I am going to make him young again,” “You are going to do this!” claimed. “Oue must live,” said Mr. Hirsch cheerfully, “and one must help others to live. This picture will possess one ad- vantage; it is sure to be hung. There are many artists who would be glad if they could say as much as that of their works.” A fewdays later a note, misspelled and in a “cramped foreign hand, signed Celie Hirsch, informed me that the next drawlng lesson must be put off, as my master was il *You had better go tomorrow and in- quire for him?” said my father, *‘Tuke & bunch of grapes with you,” I had pever before been to my draw- ing master’s house; the rooms where we took our lessons were in another part of the town. The little slipshod girl who answered the bell, instead of replying to my inquiries, merely rapped at a door in tho entrance passage,callelout: “You're wanted, madume,” and disuppeared. A high-pitched voice culled out, “Come in.” Topened the door and found my- self in a tiny sitting room. By an empty grate sat o woman neatly dressed in shabby black, who rose hastily when she gaw me. “Pardon, mademoiselle!” she snid. 1 hud not' expected a visitor; forgive mo that I did not open to you. T wm lame, I walk with x\rllh'ully. and today I am tived.” She had a eruteh by her side and seemod infirm and old, nmuln._ as [afterward found, her ago could not have exceeded forty-five. She told me thut Nr. Hirsch was in bed with bronchitis, but she hoped he would soon be ablo t resume his lessons. Bhe apologized for usking weinto a cold room. ‘‘He needed tho fire upstairs.” I asked I ox- When T op ned my basket she d, “Oh, ciel!” and heid up her hands with delight. *“This is, indeed, goodness; only this morning 1 was thinking if 1 had but some grapes for my husband.” Sho took thert with o tonder touch, al: most a cavess. It is so long since I havo held grapes in my hand.” she gaid; “itisas if I was once more in France. Will mademoigolle do me the favor to it down while I take them to monsieu He will like to make you his thanks.” She spoke. slowly, with a French accent much stronger than her husband’s, While she was gone looked about me. 1 think, at that time of my life, I had nover séen so poor aroom, It had in it, with two ex- ceptions, nothing but the most abso- lutely needful furniture, and that of the homelicst. These exceptions were striking. The first was a handsomely carved and gilt f head, apparent] ning the Lof a young man sketched in ¢ The other was much more remarlkable. It was an oil painting representing a group of French peasants. rveturning from the harvest field. Iven I, ignorant as I was, could perceive that it was a work of great power and beauty. Its delicate pearl-griy tones so perfectly harmon- ized, its wender, vestrained feeling, v eted my attention. 1 was still 1 at it when Mrs, Hirsch returned “Ah,” she said, ‘“‘that painted by my first husband. He was a great ar- You never heard ot him? Itis because he died young, before he was appreciated. 1fhe had lived he would have been famous, Mr. Hirsch says so, and he knows,” she concluded, w an odd mixture of pride 1 her two hus- bands, A t.” she added turning to the char teh, *'is his son, my wn by himself.’ then, is also an artis He'is u student, He has his father’s nius; some duy he, too, will be an ar- After the first visit for some r on or another, I often went tomy drawing- master’s house. His cough hung long about him, and before he could goouthe oftered to give him and his other pupils lessons at home if we choose to come. I gladly availed mysolf of the offer. Mrs. Hirsch was usually present, busy with some fine needlework, which no doubt, helped to eke out the family income. I observed that'my master paid her a cer- tain deference und almost always ad- dressed her as madame. As both hus- band and wife were constantly occupied I could not at first understand why the were so poor. Nothing seemed to come amiss to Mr. Hirsch. Sometimes he would be painting a signboard, some- times designing a playbill, or drawing ornamental headings for tradesmen’s cireulars. Once in an out-of-the-way corner of the town, I came upon him en- gaged in freshening up the portrait of o huge salmon, which ornamerted the window of a small fishing-tackle shop. On this occasion he seemed a little em- sed and I turned quickly away and never afterwards referred to our meet- ing. Gradually T learned the meaning of all this Industry. Anatole, the young original of the chareoal portrait, was being supported as a student in Paris at the expense of his stopfather. ‘‘He will be a| t artist, I am ouve of it,” said- Mr. Hirsch tome, “It is our duty to develop his genius.” ¢ “Does he know how hard you work?” I asked. “*Would he like you to doall this for him?” “Ah—bah! It is nothing,” said Mr. Hirsch smiling. “That is what he always says,” said his wife, “but is_everything io us—to Anatole and me.” One day when Mr. Hivsch was out,she told me the story. How happy she had been with her fivst husband, the young artist just rising into fame, tili he was shot down in thestreet on that terrible 4th of December, 1851; how Mr. Hirsch, his favorite })u])ll had stood by his siae in that hopeless fight for law and liberty and had carried him back, n dying man, to the little studio which had been so full of life and hope; how she had found herself left quite alone with her little boy of three yearsold. “I wasan or- phan, I had no one, no one,” she said with failing tears. *‘I had been hurt by an accident; 1 lame, a8 you see me now, and I could get nowork.” Wenear- ly stavved all that winter, I and my boy. T had sold all that we could sell except that picture;”’ she looked toward the painting on the wall. *‘It was bis last} it broke my heart to think of parting with it; but I had made up my mind that it must go, when one day Gottlieb came and asked if he might work for me and the boy, He said he owed everything to my husband, and he would like to make some return. He had beard of some work in England as a teacher of drawing. There was only one way, mademoiselle, and I thought of my boy. We were married, and he has been the best of husbands to me. Since then we have had many strug- rles, but we have always bad enough to ive upon. Mr, Hirsch has tried ry- thing. He wished to be a painter, but no one would buy his pictures, and the boy's education has cost much money; so he has had to turn his hand to uuytf\iug that came. I have often been sorry; but then he is not a genius like my first husband and my boy.” One morning, coming early to the drawing school, I found Mr. Hirsch hard at work before o small easel. Contrary to his wont, he was so' absorbed that he did not notice the opening of the door, and I came quite close to him to him be- fore he stirred, close enough to sec that his usual air of smiling patience was ex- changed for an expreseion of intense eagerness, which made him appear at least ten years younger. When he no- ticed me he looked up like a schoolboy caught in some mischievous trick. “You find me wasting my time sadly, Miss Ellen; but I had really no work till you came, 80 I amuse myself a little.” 1 looked at the easel: on it wasasmall, half-finished oil sketch, an old woman selling flowers in the street. “Itis a little figure that Isaw,” said my master, as if apologizing for his oc- cupation, **You see, shoe is old, and she is ugly, and so is thg street she sits in, but the flowers brighten all. It pleases mo to paint them, though I do but waste my time.” “Surely it cannot be waste of time to paint like this.” “Not for a student. For a student, I might even say that this would be a good work. But for apainter it is noth- ing. Once Ithought to be a painter,but 1 began too late, and it is all'at an end now. It needs much labor, very much labor. I have not had the time," “You did not work at it long.” “Three—no, four yéar ing, it needs alifetime. I was a poor boy, a farmer’s son in the Vosges, and I used to draw many a time,when I should have been mindinl, my work. I am sorry for it now. hen I came to be a man I went to Paris and found my way 10 an artist's studio. He took mein as ba his sorvant, to mix his colors and clean his brushes and go on his errands. I was happy enough to see bim paint and 4 éars) thatis noth- | try atodd times to imitate him; but when he found out that I4oved paintin he got another lad to serve him and made me his pupil and treated me as a brother, Those were happy days, in- deed, but he died, and since then I have had o get a living for myself and family and I could not doit by art.” Now I understood why Mr. Hirsch worked o hard for hisstepson. Iunder- stood, too, that he had given the boy much more than time and labor: he had given his deavest wish, the dream of his life. After T had sury ised his_picture on the easel, Mr. Hirsch would sometimes let me look over his portfolios. They were full of sketches; some of them me- morials of his student days, some done at odd times in hi rs of tenching. Thers were also a few finished pictures which he had failed to sell. My father, who was something of a connoisseur, came and looked at them, and bought two of the pictures. “Really Mpr, Hirsch,” he said, ‘T had u were such an artist or 1 » given myself the pleasure of looking at your work sooner. 1t is a loss for our town that you do not continue painting.” A faint color came into my master’s vale and his eyes sparkled. It was fong since he had had the pleasure of tulking with one who really knew any- thing about p ctures; and then the sale of his work was a solid proof of appre- ciution. T have sometimes thought,” he sald, in a hes “sinee my son has had the good une to do ' little for himself lately, that I might venture to spend _some of my leisure in that man- ner. Your generosity, your kind words,” he added, with a low bow to my father, Sywill make it ensie A few weeks later Mr. Hirsch bgckon- ed to me mysteriously from the door of his little inner room, the same where he had repainted the two.necked swan. 1 laid down my brush and went in. He was standing before an easel, on which a picture was drawing. Thesubject was the same as the little sketch 1 had be- fore seen, an old woman with flower *This subject haunts me, he said; “the flowers which brighten dull lives, the beauty “which God sends into our dreasiest streets; I think, perhaps I might be able to Hmim it. 1t I eould put into my picture all that 1 can see in the®| face of the old woman who comes to sit to me, there should be something in it to touch the heart; but that is very hard.” All that autumn and winter Mr. Hirsch worked at his picture whenever he had auy spare time, and my father managed to sell a few sketches for Lim, 80 that he might ailow himself more leisure for this happy toil. It was won- derful to see how the return to his be- loved art transformed him. He held up his head and seemed bright and alinost young. I sometimes felt sorry when I looked at him, and saw how sanguine he was growing. In his rapt attention to his work he appeared to forget what he once had told me, that it was now too late for him to become an artist. “I shall send it to the academy,” he said one day when it_was almost done. ““That is the best. * It may not sell. but at least, people will see what I can doj it will make a beginning.” T remembel all that T had heard of pictures rejected, and wondered if he would have any chance, but it scamed unkird to damp his happy confidence. When the picture was finished he asked my father to look atit. It was really a beautiful tning, full of feeling: but, as my father saw much more plainly than L defective in many points from want of experience and long practice. “How does it strike you? Have I made any success?” asked Mr. Hirsch eagerly.. “Now the time is near, I tremble; I think I have been a fool to hope.” “We should always hope,” said my father kindly. “In'your case I would hope much. ' At length came the eventful day when the picture was screwed down in its wooden case,hopelessly beyond all reach of final touches, and dispatched to the London agent who was to send it in. All through April I thought of it con- tinually, Would it be skied? Would it, by any happy accident, find a good place, a place where some connoisseur might see and praise it? 1 had heard that a good deal depended on size, and this picture was small. Surely the hangers would be struck by its touch of poetry, its signs of patient labor, and place it where it could be seen to advan- tage. My excitement could hardly have been greater if it had been my own work. When the academy cata- logue arrived (I had it sent down on the day of publication), my hand shook so much that I could hardly open it. I turned to the list of names, but that of my old friend was not among them. I looked through all the long list of pic- tures from-beginning to end, then looked again. In vain! I could hardly beliove such & misfortune possible, and yet it was too certain. After all my master’s care and pains his picture, his dear pic- ture, into which he had put so much love and thought, was not accepted. Several days elupsed before 1 dared to visit him; at’last I screwed up my cour- age and went. To my astonishment he met me smil- ing, radiant. He held both his thin hands out tome. *‘I hoped you would come,” he said “T wanted to tell you our good news, you who will sympa- thize.” “What!” I stammered, wondering if somebody had hoaxed him with the be- lief that he was successful, or if, by happy chance, there was a mistake in the catalogue, ‘I thought, I feared—" ““T'he news is but just come,” he satd. ‘‘Had you heard he was going to try? He would not tell us, lest I should be disappointed if he did not succeed.” I looked to madame foran explanation, She sat with an open letter in her hand; her spectacles were wet, aad tears were trickling unheeded down her oheel but her lips wore a smile of perfect sat- isfaction. I was fairly bewildered. *‘flns some one got your picture hung after all?” I asked. **My pleture?” said m{ master ab- sently. “Ah, yes, it hus been rejected. I had almost forgotten. That bubble has burst; it was a silly dream; I oyght to have known better ‘than to fancy I could be an artist now. But Icannot think of disappointment on this golden day, this dn{, of joy, when all my tail is rewarded. For ‘twenty years I. have worked and hoped for this, Anatole, our Auatole, has guined the Prix de Rome!” *It is what his dear father, had most at heart,” said madame. ‘‘When first ho saw him in his little cap he said, ‘Celie, my friend, our son shall be a painter, ho shall study at Rome.’ And it is thou who hast done it, Gottlieb,” ghe added, turning to her husband; *'it is owing 0 thee, How can [ ever thauk no more,” said her husband. a, “*Has not his wish been mine for twenty years? Celie, when our Anatole is a in London that artists are appreciated. He shall have a gallery like Dore, but his picturcs will be of another sort. And I will stand at the door and show the people in, and hear when they praise him; and I shall say, *These pictures were painted by my master’s son, who is also the dear son of my hear h, what happiness,’ Madame softly echoed his words. T left the two stili smiling, weeping,laugh- ing in their dingy little room, while the sun shone in and lighted the dead paint- er’s picture, and the portrait of Anatole, and the wrinkled,happyfaces of the hus- band and wife, gazing with delight on those two precious treasures. Before the exhibition on which we had built such vain hopes was ended, my father had a severe illness, and during his slow reco' it was decided that ne must live henceforth in a milder cli- mate. Among the friends from whom we parted, I was not least sorry to leave Mr. Hirsch and his wife, and I think that our regrets were mutual, For several years we resided chiefly on the continent, and during our brief visits to England I had no opportunity of see ing our old friend in the north, Mr. Hirsch, his struggles and his sacrifices had long faded into a dim background of half forgotten memories, when I found in a Florentine hotel a copy of an Eng- lish newspaper, in which was noticed a newly opened exhibition of pictures by a young French artist, M. Anatole "The painter was mentioned with pra eritical and discrimination, such as men are the better for reading, and in one short paragraph, coupled with a fe words of fine and penetrating appr tion, the name of my old draw maste CLEVER PARODY. 1t Tennyson should write the American anthem for the world's fair—which, shades of Stakespears forbid it will probably run somewhat s, suggests the Sacra- mento Bee: Oh, the Am You who li 0 people! in the steeple Your evenlug love I've quaffed, I've quaffed, My soul to thee I waft, I waft, On wings! on wings! Oh, people! Ob, st O, thou and thix I give salaam ! I genufiect: obeisance make! Thy hearts in mine I freely take— 1 take with jam. ! Oh, thou! To thine I bow! KAILROAD MEN, - Some IRegard for Brakemen. The automatic brake and the automatic coupler for freight cars have been making great progress since the master car builders settléd upon & type. Eugincering News re- ported #9,000 freight cars equipped with the automatic couplers on the first of the year, and that railroads with 72,000 miles of tracks and 700,000 freight cars have adopted the policy of applying automatic couplers to all new equipments. Even greater progress has been made with the automatic brakes, 150,000 cars being equipped with them on the first of the year, and roads controlling &7,015 milea of track and 698,375 ears having deter- mined to put the automatic brakes on all new cars, The reform thus well started is sure to be greatly extended in the near future, and should soon begin to show its expected ef- fects in les ‘ening the namber of aceidents to froight: “traing, avd purtivularly. the Joss of) lifd suffered by brakemes, Picked Up by a Obw-Catcher. ‘A young colt had'n strange ride on the cow-catcher of a Big Fotirailroad train,near the Ohio and Indiana lirie recently, says the Cincinnati Enquirer, . A'valuable mare and colt belonging to Abisd Hayes, the stock ser, escaped from the'barnyard just as a long freight train came thundeving by. 'The colt, which was but four weeks old, ran from its mother and on to the track, in front of the rushing engine. The intefligent mare neighed hiteously, and galloped after its offspring. The colt'was picked up by the cow-catener of the engine and carried along the track un- harmed. The mare leas fences and dashed by the side of the moviug train, in her fran- tio efforts to reach the colt, all tho time neigh- ing and manifesting the most intense grief. It was full two miles before the train w: stopped, when the colt rolled from the cow- catcher and ran to its mother, without the slightest mark of injurg.after’ its perilous ride. Ventriloquist on a Train. “All out for Fifty-ninth street! rang out in an elevated train the other evening, says the New York Epoch. The people who were on their way home after a day of toil, started upand made for the door but discovered to their surprise that not the Fifty-ninth street station but only the Twenty-third street one had been reached, “ What does this mean " a chorus of voices as'ted the brakeman, aud the owners of the voices glared at the uniformed employe. “Don’t know. I never called out Fifty- ninth styeet.” The perplexed passengers returned to their seats and were soon* Lidden behnind their newspapers. When tho train pulled up at the next station at Twenty-eighth street, the announcement rang out again, “All out for Fifty-ninth street.” The conductor became enraged and looked about enxerl{ to discover the miscreant, but the people in the car, understanding then that & ventriioquist was amoug them. burst out laughing. They dropped their papers and scauned faces to find out who it was that by throwing his loud voice to the platform of the car, had succeeded 1 playing the joke. At each station the ventriloguest called out the same thing up to Fifty-ninth street where 1 got off and all that ime he remained undis- covered. Afl She was a little dream of a girl—a ymphony in brown eyes and black curls nd she knelt with ‘her mother in a front pew, right bafore the altarin the south transept. Theholy insense—per- fumed prayer—floated around and about her. She wasso near the altar that she could see the patternof the lace on the acolytes’ surplice and wonder how much it cost. In fine she was a charming lit- tle girl, and no one in the whole church wore a prettier frock or carried a lovlier meur ook. She read her prayer book ike a nun, she bowed her head at the elovation and she listened attentively when the priest int the plain gown and surplice preached the sermon. There was not a little girl ip the wholé church wore a prettier frock than she, and her mother, like herself, wore the garments of luxury and wealth, The service was over, given his benediction, And then the two—mother and daughter—sallied forth together as they had done Sunday after Sunday, ever since the little one had received her first communion. As they passed in the wake of the crowd through the body of the church, where only the poor people were, the little one ‘noticed a handsome woman with her face buried ini her hands, but dressed in silk and_wearing jewels, says the San Francisco Examiner. “Mother, dear,’” she, “who is that lady? She is 'Y, very pretty. She must be a real lgdy, but she kneels down here with all the'common people. “Don’t look gat her, child,” said the mother, “'she is bad.” Atchison Gilobe: A was no sooner finishes his prayer to be delivered from temptatious than he hunts up temptations to be delivered The priest had great man he shall como to London; it is | from. IN FAIR WOMAN'S WORLD. How Suffrage Was Obtained in Wyoming for the Weaker 8ax. DESIROUS ~ OF BEING HEROINES, Two Girls Undertake to Wreck a Train for the Money and Glory That Was in Jt—Inquisi tive Females. William H. Bright, who secured the pas- sage of the law conferring universal suffer age in Wyoming, recently received a govern- ment appointment at tho national capital. He is now a white haived man of sixty. For a long time he lived in Colorado, was o resi- dent of Leadville and worked for a while at the §Colorado fish hatchery. Neither time nor fortune has delt kindly by Bright, and he was actually in need of employment when he received his new appointment. When Wyoming was organized as o terri- tory, Bright lived at South Pass, whero he kept a saloon. There was a meeting called to select members of the legislature from there, A cheeky sort of a lawyer named Rockwell, without any practice to speak of, wanted t0 be @ representative, and at the mass meeting extoiled himself. Bright, who was present, made a humoros ch, ridl- culing the nerve of the lawyer who pre that he would be making a great sacrific serving as a logislator. Among other things he said, according to a Ch “I've considerable bar practice myself, but it's mostly behind the bar. ~ But fortunately my traae will not suffer very much during a temporary absence ahd what it suffers I'm perfectly willing to stand. 1 think I could represent you fellows in good shape in the tercitorial councit and if you want me to go you've only got tosay the worda and DIl pack my grip for Cheyenne when the time comes." This speech caught the crowd, onfessed that he Rockwell nted to o to the to the house and Bright to the council, of which he was made president. Bright's wife was a great deal better edu- cated than he was and when he wanted any writing or figuring done he always went to her to do1t. He was a great admirer of his wife, and as he suid in his speech in advoc ing the bill: *“Why shouldu't | be in favor of piving my wife the ballot! She 1s better morally than I am, she is petter educated and better qualified to judge of things—now why should 1 say that she's not entitled to the same rights that I am?" This is what influ- enced Bright. He studied the situation over v carefully and found just how every one stood on the suftrage question. Nearly évery- body was openly opposed to it. But® Bright was o good deal of a schemer and wiro puller, I‘!e made friends from the start. In the appointment of the commit- tees ho brought some under his in- fluence. To some he preached that the pass- age of the. bill would be a biz advertise- ment, and in the eves of the world would at once distinetly individualize Wyoming in the doad level of wild western states. To those s0 inclined he gave the affair a humerous tinge and spoke of the hugeness of the joke involved. To a very few, perhaps, he spoko of the justness of the cause. Many of them he won over by getting from them a private promise to give his bill a complimentary vote as a favor to him, whenover necessary sup- porting pet measures of other members as a consideration lmmvinfi‘m mise, sote- times on the ground that the darn thing couldn't pass, anyhow, but he didn’t like to see his only bill' done up so badly. Bright worked his cards very shrewdly, and to the intense surprise of everybody’ carried his bill through both houses without a dissenting te. It is said that during all the time the Brights lived in Wyoming. Mrs. Bright never exercised the rightof suffrage con- ferred on her through her husband’s pluck. Six Men Had to Walt, A woman wearing a mackintosh and carry- ing an umbrella stood at the ticket window at the Barclay street ferry “he other day says the New York Times. Six men were stand- ing behind her in line. A boat was due to leave 1n about two ininutes. “Do boats leave here for Hoboken?’ she asked, and the man inside answered ‘‘Yes.” “How long will it be before the nextone leaves " ““About a minute,”” was the reply. “Does the boat go straight to Hoboken?” asked the woman. “Yes," said the ticket seller, “How long could I wait in Hoboken before there was another boat back!” asked the woman, while the men behind her grew ner- vous rapidly. “As long as you ploase,” said_the patient. ticket seller; “‘they are going and coming all the time.” “Could T get from Hoboken to Jersey City without coming back here " ‘Yes street cars run regularly,” was the answer. “Would it be quickerto go by a car or come back aud take a ferry to Jersey City " she ased. I don’t know," was the answer, Then the ticket seller ‘asked impatiently, ‘How many?" “How many what?” seid the womax. “ickets, How many tickets do you want?" The bell was ringing for the boat to move, and the men In line were swearing. “Idon’t want any tickets,” she_ said. “My sister lives in Hoboken, and if T thought had time to go and see' her and call onmy brother's folks in Jorsey City I was going over tomorrow.” Just Like a Man, What a bonnet it was. The very band box that it came in seemed to appreciate the value and magnificence it contained —such a sub- stantial, well-varnished, responsible band- box. Up the steps the messenger carried it and rang the bell. Her husband felt a chill such as that we experience when, according to the old gossips, somebody walks over our future grave, Mrs. Frontpew tried it on in the parlor and said her husband was a duck, and gathered the family around her that they might bask in the sunlight of its glory, Ard what a bonaet of glory it was! What a creation” of creams and other soft colors! What a master work of feathers and birds and flowers? To have one such bonnet was worth living alife- time for. 3 Never was_there a husband so good and kind and with such taste. “The door-bell rang again, records the San Franosco Examiner. Another messenger boy came up. “phis is Mrs. Frontpew's bonnet,” said the messenger. *“The other one was left by mis- take. 1t should have gone to Mrs. Slyly,next door.” . With a blanched face she gave back tho bonnet and looked at her own. Bird for bird, feather for feather, flower for flower— it was the same as the other. That is why Mrs. Frontpaw was not in church on Sunday and why Frontpow has been taking supper down toivn and looks like a man upou whom great woe is fallen. How coutd he telll The milliner merely showed him a pretty head-dress and he or- dered one made up like it. But that's like a man. Wanted to be Herolnes. Laura and Flora Woolley are twin sisters who piled ties on a railroad track near Farm- ingdale, N. J., last week,and then flagged tho train hopiug to got a Jarge reward. . Thelr ruse was discovered. Laura has been great- ly agitated ever since tho matter became public and went to her bedroom and prepared 10 end her life. She tied one end of a stout ropetos Look in the wall, and with the other end she made anoose. Then she wounted a chair, placed the noose around ler neck, and propared to swing herself oft into eternity. She sprang from tho chbair and was strangling when her sister Flora rushed in at the door and rescued her. The girl 1s apparently none the worse for hor experimant, and ner friends and relutives will try to per- stfade her that there is no reason why she should uot continue to live, Astho 4:30 o'clock p from New York to Lakewood on the New Jersey Southern railroad neared o doep cut at Hendrickson's Switeh, five miles from Lakewood, a young giel ran down the track frantically waving a red flag. Engineer William Narison put on the brakes and the train stopped but a few feot from a heap of ties that nad been piled across the track. saw two men put them there and run int 0 the woods,” the girl said, apparently in great excitemeat, “and ran down to stop you. . oful passengers took up a collection that was reported at the time to amount to §105, and the maiden found hersel( a heroine. George Fitzgerald, the section boss, could not quite sce Low such a schomo could be planned in that vicinity, Tramps were not Bumerous, and the fow fanilios living in tho vicinity were well known and_above suspi- cion. ‘A littlo investigation convinced him that the ties were not placed there to wreck the train. Theso suspicions were confirmed by a fellow-employe, Levi Bradge,a cousin of the “heroine of ® day,” who obtained from her a confession that she and her sister 1 planned and carried out the scheme to enrich a slender purse, and incidentally to win a lit- tle fleeti 10w, The Misses Woolley were in a sad_predica, nt at the discovery of their plot. They hud A their father read in_the newspapers, said, of a girl who had saved a train for y, and the idea suggested itself to them that the same thing might b done for money. They had carried the ties to the track and sent their younger brother, *Budd,” to the house for & signal flag. Tho story about the men making for the woods was persisted 1n until Mr. Burdge wrung a_confession from m. express train them. Mr. Woolley, the father, was disposed to take a humorous view of the situation. He though 1s had been very foolish. He nown them to be “'so bad" be. whole matter would soon blow over. Sectionmaster Brudge was jubilant over his clever it of detective work, uts was his colloague, Pitzgorald. The mat- ter has been laid before Supervisor Michael phy of Long Branch, for his action. Rich and Generous, The poor as well as the rich enjoy the fruits of the wealth heapad up by Augustus Hem- enway and left to his widow and children, Mrs. Hemenway is supposed to be the rich- est woman in New England. Her husband went to-Boston a poor lad, began as a boy in the East India house of that noted merchant of oid, Benjamin Bangs, soon became coufi- dential clerk and then a proprietor himself. At his death he left $22,000,000, tho largest estate ever administored upon in that city. Mrs. Hemenway offeupies one of those solid old houses on Mt. Vernon street, a few steps back from the common, in that section of the city which retains its ancient fashionable dis- tinction. The Chase of Life. New York Herald. All men arc hunters. Statesmen hunt for fame: The doctor hunts for fortune and a name: Tho merchant huats for stores of gathered gold ¢ For glory’s garland hunts the warrior bold; The lawyer hunts for clients and for fees: But there's a hunt that's keener yet thau these— "Tis when the lover tries bis utmost art To hunt aud capture some fair maiden’s heart. Married fn Hed, Miss Nora Jolly was bolstered up in bed in Phillipsburg, Pa., last week, and married to Dr. 4. H. Piper of Wheeling. The bride became ill about two weeks ago with grip, which developed into typhoid fever. The wedding had been arranged to take place and mauy guests had been invited. M\M Jolly refused to have the marriage postponed. He Bore an Honored Name, Chicago Tribune. . Magistrate (to vagrant)—Why do you ob- ject, sir, to giving your name? Vagrant (dilapidated but proud)—Because, your honor, I_could not bear the suspicion that I sail under an alliance. “(Sharply)—Then give your real name, sir. . (Dejectedly) ~That's it, judge. Nobody would believe it. My name is Jon Smith. gl S A Good Deal of a Dilemma, Texras Siftings. “Why 1s it that you treat me with such disdaiu’” asked a young society beau of a married lady. “As long as you are not on good terms with mv husband, 1 cannot possibly treat vou kindly.” “Dhis is & horrible dilerma,” responded the gilded youth. “If you show me any at- tention your husband refuses to speak to mo, aud unioss he i you give me the cold shoulder. in such a fix.” Fixings Make the Dog. Four or five of us were waiting on a hotel veranda in a Georgla town for the *bus to drive up and take usto the depot, when a colored man came along drag- ging after him about one of the meanest looking dogs you ever saw,says the New York Sun. “What are you going to do with him? asked one of the group. “Kill him, sah!” “But w * N Vo good, sah,” *Then sell him,” “Can’t do it.” “Then give him away.” Nobody would dun take him,” Sl take him. Bring him right up here.” *You is foolin’, sah,” “No, I ain'ts Here, give him to me, and here’s a quarter for gou,” He tied the dog to a chair and ran over to a hardware store and bought a collar. Then he went to a dry goods store and got half a yard of red silk and a yard of blue ribbon, and in ten min- utes the dog was blanketed upand bowed up until he did look fancy. He was taken to the depot in the ’bus, and we had scarcely arrived when a white man, who sat on a box whistling, came for- ward and said: “What ye got thar, stranger?” “Chinese fox hound,” replied our riend. “Shoo! Never saw one before.” “This is the only ofie in this country,” “Cost a heap.” “Given to me by the Chinese consul at Washington, but I wished he had him back., He's so wild after game that he bothers the life out of me,” s he all right for this climute?” ), yes.” “Good-natured?"” “A perfect baby." “How much’ll buy him?" “Well—um. I never set any value on him. He's a present, and 1 suppose I ought to keep him, but as he is a fox dog and this is a fox country, some good man around here ought to h him,” *Will you take $207” “Um! ~ Make it $25.” “Can’t do it. Just got two tens heer for the dog as he stands,” ““Well, I suppose yoo'll use him well, and it will be better for the dog.”’ We rolled away on the train as the urchaser headed for home with his dog. None of us could say a word for u long, long time, It was Lim seller who finally spoke first, and he sald: “(Gentlemen, thipk it bver, and be ready to name your Wrink when we reuch Atlanta,” . UMBER 202, IN THE REALM OF SPORT, the Ball Player apd the Game, p Gossip About ALONG THE QUARTER STRETCHy Movements in Fistic Ciroles—The Wrestlers, Rowers and Shooters nd Miscellaneous Chat from All Quartors. Hoy leads off in ths batting for St. Tous. Goodell and Weckbecker have signed with Buffalo, There will b a concert at the park on opone ing day Tim Keefo is iu line at once more. Jake Beck! Jacksonville. Clarence Whistler made the first home run of the season 1n New York Fred Dunlap and Paul Hinos Joe Visner as “cap'" this “Bradder Bill" Gleason will last. He is a gianh v and his bride have arrived ab will address umpire the CincinmatiSt. Louts opeuing game at St Louis. It isno longer “the boy tw! with Rusie, Ho is now culled Hurler.” Denny Lyons made three home Sunday's pame atSt, Louis. Der beat an amateur club 14 to 8 W. 1. Harris has been installed as baseball editor of tho Mail and Express—Deacon Shephard’s Now York daily. Billy Sunday scoms lost Orator O'Rourke is now the whom their hopes are contered If Calliope Miller goes to Cincinnati George Smith will likely drift to Pittsbura. Mille would be glad 3 play with tho RRads. Alien W. Thurman’s son helped *do up' tho Boston association team. e ot d home run for the university of Virgi “Captain Cudworth of Now Haven' is the proper caper. *“Cud” is a king in New Enge lund, but he didn’t last long in St. Louls, “Honest Johu” Kelly has declinod to_nmy in the association and “Brudder Bilp! ason hias been elected to fill his shoos, tie" Keogan wants a chance to show Pat Powers that as a Bison he wul put on horns that the internationals cannot touch, Blessed are the peacomakers! 1t is well they are, for they never would be by the wars ring baseball muguates, —Frank L. Hough, “Tom McLaughlin, who played short sto for Louisville in 'Si, was married at th Falls City yesterday to Miss Lulu Steitens kamp. Kid Madden pitched just fivo games fop Boston’s brethren last year. They ave going to give him to Columbus wrapped up in blne ribhon. Dowd may cover second for the Cincinnaty assoclation team, instead of Yauk Robinson, He is a good one' and a far better hitter than “Yank." Tom Kinslow, who, with Beatin, gave Gu: Schmelz and Cincinnati the razzle dazzle when they were with Allentown, is 1 line ab Brooklyn. Laura Biggar, *Tza,” in one of the Clems encoau Case companies, is & “fan,” and s is trying to give base ball a boom in New ON Jeans by offering medals. Cincinnati fans will have one innovatione thatis & good one. Out at the league parlg scores of overy game played in the leagug will be bullotined when the Reds are of home, They don't think of Mr. Rellly qulte s6' highly in Columbus, but Pittsburg hus gone dafv on the young man. He gets maplo suga# and honey by mail every day—Cleveland Leader. The baseball maguates will get back all the money they lost last season, if the attends ance ut New Haven and the polo gron .|\$ Friday and Saturday is a criterion.—Ne; York Recorder. (@ymnasiums have ruined many a good balk er, and tho prtfessors of those instituy tions are more likely to make tho men dé waork that is injurious rather than beneficial, Tim Murnate, Eighteen inches of snow fell at Denvey Tuesday a week ago and Uncle Anson's colti were burried in the beautiful, The next time the old man_goes to Colorado to traig he'll choose Florida, Those fast-day crowds had a 2ood, healthy, well-fed look, When 13,500 _will turn out td two games of ball when' a_little contest at parchesi by the fireside would bring morg physical comfort, it is - easy to see that base hall is 0. k. Pitcher Luby has not vet reported for duty. He lingers still in_the ficlds of Sout Carolina. Secretary Hart will today decids whether to send o bloodhound ~on the ecceny tric player's trail or throw out @ grappling hook.—Chicago Herald, Just as the league had the assooiation curls, between its hands and was about to kiss th saucy creature plump on her ruby lips som naughty reporter Yohiod *Rats " That soty tied it.” Miss Association told Mr. League tq “Go away, you horrid creature.’—O. Py ‘aylor. * Tue interchange of exhivition games bes tween association and leaguo clubs is a misy take and a bad ono. How much botter il would have been today if the Boston assoola; tion dnd Boston league clubs had met! Buf no—the association seceded. after a fifteen; minute sossion! Good business men do no move so hastily.-—Mulford, “We are willing," says Mr. Von der Ahe, +to respecet the rights of the National leaguel The reserve rule is a good thing, and if the league is williag for a compromise on that point 1 would not oppose it, and they negotiate with President Kvamer, of the sociation.’—(St. Louis Globe-Democrat, Can anyoue see a pointer in that{—Timegs Star. “By next season all tho ball players in the country will be scrambling to get into the ass sociation,"—[St. Louis Sayings. Wby no$ add April 1 to that assertion{ The players i cities like Chicago, Boston, nroufl n/ and wly Amos, tho Hoosic# runs i Brown to Cin slugi innatl, ¢ upon sw York will be tramping on each’otbher's corns to get to piay in towns like Columbusi Louiavilla and Washington. Of course they will! President Young has assigned the umpire for the initial championship games v the N tional league and Western associajion as fols lows: For the Western association, April18, with T, H. Gaffney, at Kansas City, Mo.} Alonzo KKnight, at Omaha; Charles Collins at Denver, Colo,; Andre Emslie, ut Liacoln, Neb. April 22 will witness the opening games of the Nattonal league, and in the Now Yorks Boston game at the Polo grounds Thomas J, Lynch will be there. At Philadelpbia the same day Harry Wright's team will be pitted against John Ward's bridegrooms, and tha arbitrator will be Timothy Hurst, a new apy plicant for popular aporoval as an umplrna‘ the leagne. Powers and McQuade will u pire the games ut Cincinnati and Pittsbur — i Along the Quarter Stretoh, Sam Morse has changed hands once more. Meadville is to have & new kite:shapog track. v Buad Doble (2:18)¢) will be campaigned his season. Faithful has the call as the derby winner at Memphis. Jockey Doggety willride for McLewes & Co. this” year. Waymart (2:271¢), valued at $10,000, died at Rockville, Ind. Jockey Bergen has been suspended oncq more by Starter Caldwell, Weber has joined forees with Eugene Leigh and will ride Tor him this year. atitude, the brood mare, hias been trangy. torred o V.'B. Haggin's stud. \ Colonel K. P. Pepper's ofico at Fairfield d vy fire, His trotting stable, Racing will begin at Elizabeth April 11, and tho pool shods will bo nailed up. Blackd boards will be turned to the wall, but tby “hookies' will use pads and pencils and thy l mako bots, Johu Goldsmith’s eastern campaigu. Ral