The evening world. Newspaper, July 21, 1903, Page 11

» w THE » EVENING » WORLD ab ae | tl A Tale of the Third Generation (Copyright, 1902, by Lothrop Publishing Co.) Savoy Theatre, New York GYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS. PP} Bines, heir of Daniel J. Bines, a multi-millionaire owner and railway promoter, his mother and his ing nan siitnpla"t ants nae fle Th warn and attem) 10, society, Ss Avice Milbre er of an old New York family ai it monayless. ‘Sho is urged by her family. to irs. Josephine Dremler, who 1s in society, un- marry Psydhe to Hon. Cecil E. H. Mauburn, an ‘him. | At who expects a title, but has no money. CHAPTER Iv. aereres Bite of Tragedy. was mid-October. The two saddle horses and a team for ‘carriage use had been shipped ahead. In the private car the Mttle party was beginning its own journey eastward. Fwom the rear platform they had watched tho tall figure of ‘Uncle Peter Bines standing in tho bright autumn sun aloof from the band of kerchief-waving friends, the droop of his head anf shoulders showing the dejection he felt at seeing them go. He had resisted all entreaties to accompany them, His last injunotion to Perclval had been to marry early. “I kndw your stock and I know you,” he eald, “and you got no cail to be rangin’ them pastures without @ brand, You never was meant fur a maverick. Only don't let the first woman that comes ridin’ herd get her {ron on you. No man koows much about the critters, of course, but I've no- ticed a few things in-my time. You pick one that's full- Ghested, that's got a fairish-sized nose and ‘that likes cats. ‘The full chest means she's healthy, the nose means she ain't finicky, and likin’ cats means she's kind and honest and un- selfish. Ever notice some women when a cat's around? ‘They pretend to like ‘em and say ‘Nice kitty!’ but you can mee they're viewin’ ‘em with bitter hate and suspicion. If they have to stroke ‘em, they do ot gingerly, and you can eee ‘em shudderin' inside ifke. It means they're catty them- selves. But when one grabs a cat up as if she was goin’ to entiit and ouddies it in her neck and talks baby-talk to St, you play her for bein’ sound and true. Pass up the others, son. “And speakin’ o: the fair sex,” he added as he and Percival ‘were alone for a moment, “that enterprisin’ lady we set- tled awith is goin’ to do one thing you'll approve of. ‘She's goin’,"" he continued, in answer to Perclval’s look of dnquiry, “to take her bank-roll to New York. She says ft’s the only place fur folks with money, jest like you say. She tells Coplen that there wa'n't any fit society out here at all—no advantages fur a lady of capacity and ambitione. As the train started Peter swung, himself off with a sad little “Be good to yourself!" “Thank the Lord, we're under way at last!" cried Percival fervently when the group at 'the station had been shut from view. Now other matters are forward. We may next over- ‘take ‘two people who loiter on thjs' bracing October day Gown a@ leaf.ztrown afsie in Central Park. = the girl of the pair, “ieast of all men, can ac- cue me of ‘lacking hear! “You are cold to me now." “But look, think! What did I offer? You've had my trust— everything I could bring myself to give you. Look what 1 would have sacrificed at your call. Think how I waited and longed for that call," “You know how helpless I was."* “Yes, if you wanted more than my bare eelf. I should have been helpless, too, tf I had wanted more ‘than—than you." “It would have been folly—madness—that way.” “Folly—madness? Do you remember the ‘Sonnet of Revolt’ you sent me? Sit down on this bench; I wish to say it over to you very slowly; I want you to hear it while you keep your later attitude in mind: Lite—what {a life? To do without avall ‘The decent onlered tasks of every day; alk with the sober, ‘oln the solemn play Tell for the hundredth time the self-same tale Told by our grandsires In the eelf-same vale Where the sun acto with even, level rey, And nights, eternally the same, make way For hueless dawns, intolorably pale— “But I know the verse.’ “No; hear (t out. Hear what you sent me: And this ts 11f6? T would rather ese The man who solls his soul in eome wild cause; ‘The fool who spurns, for momentary bilss, All that wes and all he thought to be; All that he was and al he thought to be; God's own mad lover—dying on @ kise! She had completed the verse with the hint of a sneer In her tones. “Yes, truly, I remember it; but some day you'll thank me tor saving you. Of course it would have been regular in a way but people here never really forget those things; and we'd have been helpless. Some day you'll thank me for thinking for you. “Why do you belleve I'm not thanking you already?" “Hang it all! that’s what you made me think yesterday when I met you.” “And 80 you called me heartless? Now, tell me just what you expect a woman in my poaltion to do. I offered to go to you when you were ready. Surely that showed my spirit —and you hayn't known me these years without knowing it would have to be, that or nothing." “Well, hang it, it wasn’t like the last time, and you know é; you're not Icind any longer. You can’ be kind, can't you?” Her lip showed faintly the curl of scorn. “No, I can’t be kind any longer. Oh, I eee you've known your own mind 80 little; there's been so little depth to tt all; you couldn't dare. It was foolish to think I could show you my mind.” “But you still care for me?” “No, no, I don't. You should have no reason to think so if did. When I heard you'd made it up I hated you, and I think I'hate you now. Let us go back. No, no, please don't touch me—ever again.” Further downtown én ‘the cozy drawing-room of a house in & side etreet, east of the avenue, two other persons were talking. A florid and profusely freckled young Wnglshman spoke protestingly from the hearth-rug to a woman who had the alr of knowing emphatically’ better, ‘But, my dear Mis, Drelmer, you know, really, I can’t take a curate with me, you know, and send up word won't the be good enough to come downstairs and marry me dl- rectly—not when I've not seen her, you know!" “‘Nongense!" replied the fady, unimpressed. “You can do oedrly that way, if you'll listen to me, Those Westerners quite in that manner, I assure you, They call it fms f ‘me!’ (indeed, Wearyoul’ And another thing, I want you te fofedtall that Milbroy youth, and you may be eure he's ne further away than Tuxedo or Meadow Brook. Now, tney arrived yesterday; they'll be unpacking to-day and settling to-morrow; Tl'oall the day after, and you shall be with me." Lat tis follow the gcornfal gtr! we saw in the park. “Tell Ore, Van Geist if she can't come down I'll run up to her.” ' "Yes, Mize Qfilbrey. WMrs. ‘Ven Geist entered a moment later, “VWiiy, Avice, child, you're glowing, aren't you?” “must be, I euppose—I've just walked down from Fifty- ninth stréet, and before that I walked in the park. Feel how. cold my cheeks are, Mutterohen."’ “Come back: where the fire is, dear; the tea has just been Drought. “There, take the big chair." _“Dt always feele Uke you—like your arms, (Mutterchen— ‘ahd T am tired. "And throw off that coat. afraid of cream." ‘Tt wish T weren't afraid of anything but cream.” “You told me you weren't afraid of that—that cad—any more.” i 4 i "I'm not—I just told him #0. But I'm afraid of {t all; 1'm Hot to drift—tired trying not to try, and Ured Oh, Ager—aqunda We i doona't, ‘There's the lemon, if you're By Harry Leon Wilson Author of “The Lions of the (Printed in Evening World by Permission of Lothrop Pub. Co.) This Successful Novel Has Been Dramatized by E. E. Rose for Charles Frohman, Who Will Present William H. Crane, the Comedian, in the Role of Peter Bines at the City, the Coming Season. % 1t? Have you any one to-night? No? I think I must stay with you till morning. Send some one home to say I'll be here. I can always think so much better here—and you, dear old thing, to mother me!” | “What's the latest?” ‘ “Papa was on the verge of collapse this morning, and yet he was striving €o bravely and nobly to bear up. No one knows what that man suffers; it makes him gloomy all the time about everything. Just before I left he was saying that, when one conaiders the number of American homes in which a green salad is never served one must be appalled. Are You appalled, auntie? But that dan’t It." . “Poor Horace! Whatever are you going to do? | “Well, dearte, as for me, ft doesn't look as tf T could do | anything but one thing. And here is my ardent young | Croesus coming out of the Wont.’ i | “You ovjled him your ‘athletic Bayard’ once." “The other's more to the point at preernt. And what else can I do? Oh, if some one would just be brave enough live tho raw, quivering life with me I could do it, I give you my word. I oowld let everything go by the board—but | am 80 alone and so ‘helpless and no man is equal to It nowadays, All of us here seem t ‘be content to order a ‘half portion’ ife. “Child, those dreams are beautiful, but they're Ilke those flying machines that are conetantly being tested by the ¢redulous inventors. A wheel or a pinion goes wrong, and | down the silly thing comes tumbling.” “Very well: then I shall be wise—I suppose I shall bo—and | I'll do tt quickly. ‘This fortune of good gold shall propose marriage to me at once and be accepted—so that I shall be able to look my denr old father in the face again—and then, atter I'm married—well, don't blame me for anything that “Tm sure you'll de -haj notions. He's in love with you." “That makes mo hesitate, He really js a man—I like him— see this lotter—a Jong review from the Arcady Lyre of the ‘poem’ he wrotc—a poem oomgisting of ‘Avice Milbrey Tho reviewer has been quite enthuslastic over it, too—writ- ten from some awful place in Montana. “What moro could you ask? Me'H be kin “You don't understand, Mutterchen. He seems too decent fo marry that way—and ‘yet it's the only way I could marry him, And after he found me out—oh, think of what mar- riage in—he'd have ti find it, out—I couldn't act long—toubt- less he wouldn't even be kind to me then,” ‘You are morhid, child." ‘But I wtll do it; I #hatl; I will be @ credit to my train- ing—and T ehall tearn to hate him and he will have to learn | well, a great deal that he doesn't know about women." pry with bim—It's only your silly at) stared Into the fire and attied, after a moment's | silence: “Oh. 1f a man only could live up to the verses he cuts out of magazines e pleasant. ‘The hearts of our host and hostess beat high with a new hope. For thé fair and sometimes uncertain daughter of the house of Milbrey, after many ominous mutterings, de- | lays and frank rebellions, has declared at last her readiness to be a credit to her training by conferring her family pre: tye, distinction of manner and charms of person upon one | equfpped for their sultable maintenan | Already her imaginative father 1s ravishing in fancy the mouldiest wine-cellars of Continental Burope. Already the | fond mother has idealized a house in Millionaires’ Row, east of the park, where there shall be twenty servants in- stead of three. | ‘The young woman herself entertains privately a state of mind jrhich she has no Intention of making public. Her | gown to-night Is of orchard green, trimmed with apple-blos- | soms, a single pink spray of them cavght in her hair. The rounding, gatin grace of her slender arms, sloping to the | opal-tipped fingers, the exquisite line from ear to shoulder | strap, the melting ripeness of her chin and throat, the tender pink and white of her fine skin, the capricious, inciting wit of her small head, the dainty lift of her smail nose—these allurements she has inventoried with a calculating and satisfied eye, She is gind to believe that there is every reason why it will soon be over. And now we shall sit at table with pr only maancr said to be worth possessing—It we except, in- (eed, the visiting tribe of Bines, who may de relied upon, however, ty behave at least unobtrusively. If we be forced to wait for another guest of note, it Is more than her due, for Mra, Gwilt-Athelstan {9 truly. r . and the best people on more than one continent fo not become unduly proovked at belng made to wait for her. Those less than the very best frankly esteem jt a privi- Yet the great lady ts not careless of engagements, and wait Is never prolonged. Mrs. Milbrey has time to say to es, we think it’s going; and really, It wili do 1, you Know, Tho gir! has had some nonsense in her —none of us can tell what—but now she y sensible, and she's promised to accept when ap proposes."” But there is time for no more gossip. The belated guest arrives, enveloped in a vast cloak, and accompanied by her two nephews, whom Percival Bines rec- ognixes for the gclemu and taciturn young men he had met 2 Shepler’s party at the mine. What about these Western people?” she asked Oldaker after a littl “Decent, unpretentious folks, somewhat new, but with loads of money. heard how the breed's stormin' New York in droves; CHAPTER V. ‘The Patricians Pntertain. VERS for fomrteen are now laid with correct and taste- ful quietness at the sophisticated board of that fine old New York family, the Milbre; ‘Shated candles leave all but the giowing table in a gloom disoreetly | le born to the “T've but they tell mo some of us need the money.” “I dined with one last night, a sugar-cured ham magnate from Chicago.” “Well, my grandfather made the pst barrels in New York, and ['m' mother-in-law of a chap whose ancestors for three hundred and fifty years haven't done a stroke of work; but he’s the Duke of Hlanchmore, and I hopa our friends ‘here will come as near gettin’ the worth of their money as we did. nd i that chap (she glanced at Percival) marries a certain ‘oung woman he'll never get a dull moment, I'd vouch for Ghat. I'm quite sure she's the devil in her.” ng Ana !f the yellow-halred girl marries the fellow next er" — “Ho might do worse," “Yes, but might she? He's already doing worse, and he'll koep on doing it, even if he does marry her.” “Nonsense—about that, you know; all rot! What oan you expect of these chaps? So does the Duke do worse, but you'll never hear Xitty coniplain so long as he lets her alone and sho can wedr the strawberry leaves. I fancy I'll have those young ones down to the Hills for Hallowe'en and the week- end. Might as well hep ‘em along.” Miss Bines and young Milbrey were already on excellent terms, Percival arid Mise Milbrey, on the other hand, were doing badly. Some disturbing element seemed to have put them aloot, Miss Milbrey wondered somewhat; but her mind was exsy, for her resolution had been taken. Mrs, Gwilt-Athelstan extended Rer Invitation to the young people, who necepted joyfully, x “Come down and camp with us. and help Phim keep the vatteries of his autos run out. You know they deteriorate when they're left half-charged, and It's one of the cares of his life to see to the whole aix of ‘em when they come in. He gets in one and the men get in the others, and he leads a Solemn parade arcund the stables until they've been run out. Tell me the lolsure ciass isn’t a hard-workin' class, now.” Over coffee and chartreuse In the drawing-room there was moro general talk of money and marriage, and of one for the other. Here, too, was earned by Mra, Hines a reputation for wit that she was never able quite to destroy, There had heen talk of a banquet to a visiting celebrity the night before, for which the menu was one of undsual costiiness. Mr. Milbrey had dwelt with feeling upon certain af {ts eminent excellences, such as loin of young bear ala Granville, and the boned quail, stuffed wii goose-livers. “Really,” he concluded, “from an artistic, standpoint, al- though latge dinners are’ apt to de slurred ‘and slighted, it was a creation of undoubted worth.” ‘And the orchestra,” spoke up Mrs, Hines, who had read of the banquet, “played ‘Hall to the Chef!" The laughter at this sally was all It should have been, even the host Joining in it. Only two of those present knew that the good woman had been warned not to catl chef" “chief.” The fact that nelther should “chief” be called “chef” was im- pressed upon her later, ina way to make her resolve ever again to eschew hoth of the ¢rotib!esome words. When the guests had gone Miss Milbrey recelved the praise of both parents for her blameless attitude toward young ines. “IU wiil be fixed when we come back from Wheatly,"’ sald that knowing young woman, “and now don't worry any more about !t.” “And, Fred,” said the mother, “do keep straight down there, She's a commonplace girl, with lots afmannerleme to Unjearn, but she's pretty and sweet and teachable." “And’ she'll learn a lot from ‘Fred that she doesn't know now,” finished that young man's sister from the foot of the stairway. Back at their hotel Psyche Bines was saying: “Inn't {tc qucer about Mra. Gwilt-Athelstan? We've read so much about her in the papers, I thought sho must be some one awful to meet—L was that scared—and, Instead, she's ike iy one. and real chummy bestdes: and, actually, ma, dont you think her dreas was dowdy—all excopt the diamonds? T Suppose that comes from living In England so much. And hasn't Mrs. Milbrey twice as grand a manner, and the son— he's a preclovs—he knows everything and everybody. 1 shall ke him.” Her brother, who had flung himself Into a cushioned corner, | spoke with the alr of one who had reluctantly consented to be Interviewed, and who war anxious to be quoted correctly: “Mrs. Gwilt-Atheistan {# all right. She reminds me of what Uncle Peter writes about that new herd of shorthorns:. “Thin breed has a good disposition. 1s a good feeder, and produces | a fine quality of flesh.’ But' I'l) tell yoy one thing, sis" he toncluded with sudden emphaste, ‘with all this talk about ying for money 'm beginning to feol ax if vou and | fn couple of white rabbits out In the ¥ Fome lawe ott" Aah le To Be Continues COMPLE SRF COOL, agreeable, inviting, A forta’le room. ‘The room of a good, square and agreeablo woman, no mistake about It No supertiuous or meaningless at- tempts at decoratton—save the word. ‘And here she comes, a great, big- hearted smiling girl, with twinkling ‘lue eyes and the welcome of an old frlend in voice and gesture The same Marie Cahill, with the same | straightforward, honest voice, with Its characteristic lttle strain of wistfulness | one second, of quaint suppressed merri- ment the next. ‘The volce with the peculiar little win-| ning childitke note In ft; you respond to {t and you are touched by it, captivated by it. “Well,” sald Miss Cahill, ‘how glad I am that I put on this coo! white gown." She didn't add “pretty and be- coming,” but it was 2 white muslin affair, with baby blue ribbons and lib-}| eral sleeves showing small, rounded, | snow-white arms and a white neck above com- ‘S wt HOME .¢ MAGAZINE “NANCY BROWN” AT HOME. an open-throated bodice that would have delighted even a Mrs, Osborn, and good- ness knows there is a modiste who de- mands superlative excellence in throats cut, high-necked orders are ‘Miss Cahill,” I satd with ingen- enthusiasm, "you were In the chorus and you forged your way out in & season or two to the centre of tho stage lime light at a Broadway theatre with your name blazing at the front door and all the rest of It. “Lots of girls waiting with bated breath to hear how you did It—How did yout” “Well, of all the ridiculous yarns," said Miss Nancy Brown, sitting up A STYLIS HIS pretty and attractive waist ts ad the separate blouse and Includea on {n vogue. The model ts made of whi T H WAIST. Japted alike to the entire gown and to of the yoke collars thi. 80 much (e louisine sile with yoke i nd trimmings of heavy lace, but the design suits all materials sufMctently pliable to allow of tucking. The waist Is made over a fitted back. The sleeves can be mado with th bishop style, as preferret. The quantity sino is 4 Hoing and closes Inyisibly at the centre he full puffs as iMustrated or in plain y of material required for the medium -4 yards 31, 4 yards 27 or 32 or 21-4 yards 44 inches wide, with 3-4 yard of all-over lace for the yoko and %1-2 yards of applique to trim as illustrated ‘The pattern 4.467 in sizes for a &, 34, 36, 83 and 40 inches bust measure mailed for 10 cents. Send money to “Cashier, T! City, bg ‘he World, Pulltser Buliding, New York straight In her turn. “Well, for merey's sake, don't you kuow I've been on the stage for years, ever since I was a Nettle girl? “In the name of goodness, didn’t I do a dance in Mrs. Lesile Carter's play of ‘Miss Helyett’ a dozen years ago? ‘Straight out of the chorus to Broad- way as star.’ Now, honest, can you beat it for a yarn out of whole cloth — “How did I arrive? “Just by hand work, My father and mother were nice, simple, ingenuous, deeply reiigious folk. There's my dear, blessed mother now in the dining-roam —just a quaint, lovely, old-fashioned Mttle Irish woman, “When I announced my determination to go on the stage how shocked and surprised they were! ““Mary 1s stage struck, my dear,’ fa- ther said to my poor, distracted mother, ‘Now, if we oppose her, she will run away, perhaps.’ “You see, father had had some ex- pertence with obstinate Mary; he knew this Jaw of mine had to be considered, 80 hé coaxed mother to take his view of the situation,” @ won't throw a straw in her ‘On the contrary, we will way,’ he said. heip her.’ “When she finds out how hard the work Is she'll be glad to give it up. “Bo I was sent to a teacher of diction and I studied elocution, mind you, I wag determined to play tragedy. Can you see me with this face of mine? But it's all true. I nearly die laughing when I remember how I used to prac- Uce Juliet—oh, yes, Jullet, Ophelia, Lady Macbeth—all the big ones! I know them fall, and Camille, Well, I guess you have never seen the real thing in that line. Marie Cahili's Camille is the mit’? And Miss Canill laughed her delicious Nancy Browa laugh. “Well,” said Miss Cahill, "I had an lawful time with tragedy. Then I studied night and day for months melodrama roles. ‘Give me back me cheelld’ stuft, you know.’ “Then my foxy father suggested that to be all-r nd equipped I ought to be an expert dancer, I was nearly dead | getting ready to aston'sh the world as a tragedienne, but I didn't propose to| miss any tricks, To be graceful was of course essential, So I went in for dancing. Well, I studied and studied. I elocuted and worked at stage busi- ness and danced about ernteen hours a day for two years. 1 grew pare ana shaky, but 1 never .or @ moment weax- ened.” * ally I started to get an engage- ment. Oh, that was the time little Mary Ht had the conceit Knocked out of | “AM the manag a was to look at | me—this face of mine did the business. | | No, they weren't looking for Ophelias; on my plan—not at all, Well, after a Jong time I captured a Job, the smallest in the chorus—me, life; you are tn it to get into the middle that stage with the your brow—if it takes years and your of heart's "God be thanked! come true—those dreams—that determ!- nation to get there. that during all these years I have never had a week's vacation? | @ vacation in my life. I've worked every day, summer and winter. Harriet Hubbard Ayer Interwiews Marie Cahill, Umelight on blood. It has in a measure But, do you know, I've never had TUESDAY EVENIOM JULY 21, 1903, ; 5 “It'a been nothing but work day. aml night for me. Don't let any one for @ moment think I have fallen into teoog- nition by chance or luck, The public has been kind to me, beautifully kind, but I have tried to deserve a little bit of all the commendation they have be- stowed. “The one thing I should like to’ say. to a beginner would be: “Make up.your mind to win out on the equare.’ : Influs ence, pull may get you your opportunity, but only earnest, hard, incessant Work day and night, and you must love it, mind, and you will bring success. “It is the girl with one purpose thet gets there finally. The girl that ‘sub- ordinates everything to that purpose, concentrates on and consecrates herself to that one purpose. That allows no pursuit and no claim, no demand to ine terfere with her determination to win the goal by the incessant labor that | must be her price, gladly given, that is ‘bound to win. “Oh, I tell you, when I found’ thet, Nancy Brown was all right, that she had lamded on her feet, don't you Jknow, at the Bijou, I just went down om my. knees and thanked God, and od harder than ever that I might aot thon through any fault of mine my plabe im thie esteem of She pune. and L tell I've done some tall praying. We're old-fashioned, go to mass every mora ing—Catholics, you know. A NEW SENSATION. Naren English Royal Relish Mustard Sauce MEATS, RAREBITS, SANDWICHES, FISH, ETC, At you Grocer’s. 150. PER POT. Ready for the table. /I'sCoolatPROCTOR'S i200 St.) ‘Bib Ave} BBth St Sato, {25th St.; Amusements. TO-DAY, 25¢., 80c. TO-NIGHT, Res. 78¢, Sontinuous Vaudeville, “A Pair of Boots,” by Jullue Chambers, Reta Amonakco., Kennedyeirant, ote Kindred Soule. ADELAIDE KEIM, WALLACE BRSKINE & All Btock udevilie. Continuous BDNA ARCHER ROBERT OUM- Souvenirs Mats, MY SWEETHEART. BELLE GOLD, WELLARD BLACKMORE, AMS ritea. Big Vaudor "| Favorites. Big { HUMBUG. RVERY DAY. 1. N MAJBST 27TH WEEKan 3 souvbn ins, it PAUSTC: HALL PRpauhh ; FLOATING ROOF GARDEN. | TERRACE GARDEN GRAND CIRCLE, Biway & 59th By Mais, Wet Sat, 2 Wed, Mat, $1.00. Eves. and Satuntay, RD OF 02) Matinee, $1.50, ED A. STONE es the Scarecrow. Amusements. * MANHATTAN BEACH TO-DAY. io SHANNON'S gkar. ToT | PAIN'SPOMPEIN GRAND at |. LAST WEEK O » |LEW DOCKSTADER ‘Sreit (Minstrel Company. GREAT MATINBE SATURDAY AT 4————» NBXT WEEK———————. A Chinese Honeymoon. MADISON aQuARs GARDEN, Bree. 6. 8TH WEEK: aie EN ect THD ‘The onuse of Bi ihe amie “Venice in New York” General Adm, 50c, | “tre ARADISE ROOF GARDEN. 12 s88%;, VAUDEVILLE NATIONAL OSLEBRITINS, incl. The Mysterious AGA, ani Extravagatza and Ballet—7S People: Pastor’s: 33 Gallagher & Barrett, Grace La Rus & Picks and FRANK MAYNE in THE TIPSTBR, CASINO. Mat.Sat.,2.15. To-nigdt 8.15. JOHNSTOWN FLOOD, CONEY ISLAND, Grand Japanese Fire- works This Wednes- ay Afternoon, 1. CARNIVAL OF NATIONS. BLLOUS SPROTACLES CONEY ISLAND Continuous Modern mn Best | High Class Vaudeville. 7 W. 284 8.90; Bal : it Pri ROCKAWAY BEAC LEA FOX, YEAMANS. UR YHTs WEEK, 1 FLOREN 68d & Gorn Bem, ) Near Lax. Av “THE BOHEMIAN GIRL.” | KBITH’ ATLANTIC ‘Chas. Robinson, Lavece # Oroas, Fisher oe Fontelle, Margaret Goott, Bechert’s MADISON ROOF GARDEN—S0e, Japan by Night 2srsseee,, OTOYO Bots and BOSTON'S LADTES' 0) sear Sea nhattan=. ime EARL OF PAWTUCKET, ~ Gpstal Gardens, At 9,46— DARLING OF THE GALI Ned Wayburn's Minstrel there ts—a co Ophelia-Juliet-Camille-Cahiil, In the fourth row of the chorus. “Oh, but it was hard, But I said to myself: | “Mary Cantl, you are in this game for IBOSTOCKS| EDE, mv CONEY’S | REST. |WORLD IN WAX, apa CINEMA TOGR | xera “attractions,