The Cosmopolitan 1887-08: Vol 3 Iss 6

Page 1

THE COSMOPOLITAN. Vo . ITI. MILLIONAIRES OF THE AUGUST, 1887. PACIFIC COAST. By GEORGE H, FITcH. JALZAC, with his royal imagination, never conceived anything more dra- matic, more picturesque, or more essentially unreal than the rise to fortune of the score of men who may be classed among the great millionaires of the Pacific Coast, the enor- mously rich men who will ‘‘cut up,’’ to use an expressive phrase, for more than twenty millions. Balzac reveledin millions as a miser gloats over his golden hoard, and he endowed many of his characters with the generous hand of the novelist ; but he dealt in francs, not dollars, and the bourse specu- lators and the great financial schemes that he loved to describe pale into insignificance before the fortunes and business operations of the half-dozen men of the Pacific Coast, who, in mining and railroads, have made fortunes that would have been called royal even in the days of Cesar and Imperial Rome. Nowhere in this country, outside of the oil regions of Pennsylvania, have vast for- tunes been gained in soshort a time as in California and Nevada. The wealth of Girard, Stewart, Astor, Vanderbilt, was laboriously and slowly gathered, when com- pared with the sudden leap to fortune of the tailroad and bonanza kings of California. In its rapid development, its enormous profits, and its crushing monopoly, the Southern Pacific Company is only to be compared to the Standard Oil Company. Both have been built up by men with a genius for managing vast enterprises, but the leaders in both have no more bowels for small com- petitors than the ghost of old Marley that 26 Scrouge saw on that famous Christmas Eve. There is no standard of comparison for the Bonanza mines of the Comstock lode that within five years lifted four men above the twenty million limit and added four hundred millions to the world’s wealth. The Pacific Coast millionaires may be ar- ranged, like the geologic formations of the earth, in three ages. The primary period embraces the famous men who made the Golden State known round the world. They were the pioneers, the Argonauts, the ad- venturers who built a great State in the far West and transformed in a single decade the wretched, Spanish-American cattle-rais- ing territory into one of the richest States in the Union, with resources as varied as its climate and with all the appliances of an older civilization grafted on the vigorous life of the frontier. The most prominent of these pioneers were Harry Meigs, who sailed out of the Golden Gate one night with all his belongings, leaving behind an army of deluded creditors, and who amassed an enormous fortune as a railroad builder in Peru; Sam. Brannan, who founded his wealth on Mormon tithe-money, was the foremost citizen of San Francisco in its stormy youth, and then suddenly dropped out of sight to vegetate in Sonora and dream of another great fortune to be made out of the leagues of land granted him by the Mexican government, but now in possession of the fierce Yaqui Indians; William C. Ralston, the Napoleon of the Far West, whodid more to develop California than any score of his associates, and who died by his own hand

Page 2

346 when ruin stared him in the face; and Wil- liam T. Coleman, the leader of the old Vigi- lance Committee that saved San Francisco from the rule of gamblers and thieves and made honest government possible. The limits of this article forbid more than this allusion to the men of this period. The secondary period is the era of the railway kings, which saw the conquest of the snow-crowned Sierra Nevada and of the alkali desert that stretches away eastward from the base of the mountains to the prairies {delete ec ae Bi; wlll! ill aoe THE COSMOPOLITAN. land and speculative millionaires like Hag. gin, Tevis, Miller, Lux, Mills, Hearst, Bald- win, Luning, and others, who, are above the ten-million level. The aggregate wealth of all these Pacific Coast millionaires would make cheap and poor the riches of Monte Cristo or the treasures of ‘‘King Solomon’s Mines.” Even if it could be stated in exact figures, the average reader would have as poor a conception of it as he has of the weight or bulk of fifty thousand dollars in gold. What Ts ) Salicces: LELAND STANFORD’S RESIDENCE IN SAN FRANCISCO. of Wyoming. It includes Leland Stanford, Mark Hopkins, Collis P. Huntington, and Charles Crocker, known in negro minstrel parlance as ‘‘The Big Four,’’ whose com- bined wealth is estimated at one hundred and eighty million dollars. The tertiary period is the ageof the bonan- za kings, which saw the development of the Comstock lode in Nevada, the richest silver mines in history, the addition of over four hundred million dollars to the world’s sup- ply of the precious metals in ten years. It includes the names of Flood, O’Brien, Fair, Mackay, Sharon, and Jones. Another and a later era must embrace the will be attempted in this article is to give pen-pictures of the more prominent of the Pacific Coast millionaires, with _ brief sketches of the way they made their fortunes. It may be added that all were poor men thirty years ago, and that all would furnish good examples to add to Smiles’ collection in ‘‘Self-Help.’’ Fortune first came to them because they were shrewd, energetic, far- sighted, economical, abstemious. Their histories all show crushing losses and disap- pointments at the outset of their careers, but these disasters served only to bring out the mettle of which they were made, and to stamp them as types of the American, the

Page 3

MILLIONAIRES OF THE PACIFIC COAST. best representative to-day of the sterling qualities of the Anglo-Saxon, the world con- queror. : THE RAILWAY KINGS. THE story of one of the four founders and builders of the Central Pacific Railroad is the story of all. Of radically un- like character, they have still worked together so closely that their fortunes have been identical: but to two of the four belong the credit of leadership. Of these two— Leland Stanford and Collis P. Huntington—Stanford is the broader-minded and more liberal man, Huntington the more subtle, far-seeing, and diplomatic. Hence, in fur- thering the great railroad enterprise that hasmade them among the wealthiest men in Stanford given the practical manage- ment of the building and operation of the road on the Pacific Coast, while Hunting- ton controlled the equally difficult and important de- partment of securing govern- ment aid at Washington and the negotiation of the com- pany’s bonds here and abroad. Of the other two partners, Mark Hopkins was a skillful book-keeper and financier, while Charles Crocker had strong executive capacity and was useful to Stanford in the management of the details of railroad build- ing. The first place in my sketch of the build- ing of the Central Pacific Railroad belongs to Leland Stanford, who by character, wealth, and position was the leader in the enterprise. He came of excellent English stock, his father being a farmer near Albany, N. Y. Young Stanford, after the study of the law, went to Wisconsin, but there he suffered the disaster of the loss of his law library by fire. He came home undismayed, and while casting about for a new location, in 1852, he caught the California gold fever. He engaged in the the country, was LELAND STANFORD, general merchandise business, and ten years saw him the possessor of perhaps $100,000. In 1861 he was elected Governor of California by the Republicans, and it was in this same year that the project of spanning the conti- nent with a railroad was discussed and that the California Legislature granted a charter to a company of which Stanford was presi- dent and Huntington vice-president. Never was a great work begun under more untoward conditions. The road had to be built to Ogden in Utah, a distance of 878 miles. The rugged foot-hills, the almost in- accessible heights of the snow-capped Sierra Nevada, the desolate alkali plains of Nevada, the terror of the overland wagon trains, the cajions of Utah—all these had to beovercome. By making use of natural passes over the

Page 4

THE COSMOPOLITAN. CHARLES CROCKER. mountains the engineers finally decided that the road was feasible. Then Stanford set to work to try to gain help. The position was this: He had as associ- ates Huntington, who was a dealer in hard- ware at Sacramento, the capital city, and Mark Hopkins, Huntington’s partner. Their combined capital would not have made over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Many of the Californians had crossed the plains and climbed the Sierra in the overland emigrant trains. These pioneers scouted the idea of building a railroad, and their opinion had great weight with others. Theresult was that the projectors could get very little aid at the outset in their own State. From the general government they secured the noble land grant that was worth many millions ; but before they could use this land grant on the government bond of thirty-five thousand dollars per mile, they were required to con- struct the first fifty miles of road. It was in overcoming this difficulty, in inspiring the confidence of capitalists, that the genius of Stanford was shown. Even when govern- ment aid came it was badly handicapped, for the bonds were worth only about one-third of their face value. All through the dark days of the war the company went pluckily on with their work. Any one who lived in California at that time can recall how the bonds and stock of the struggling corpora- tion were hawked about without finding pur- chasers. They were like the bonds of the government. Few men in California were willing to buy the seven per cents, as the workers declared that they would be repudi- ated likethe old Continental bonds. It was the common opinion, both in Sacramento and San Francisco, that Stanford, Hunting- ton, and Hopkins had sunk all their own for- tunes in the railroad, and that failure would be sure to overtake them when they tried to cross the Sierra. It took the courage of great connections to overcome this public sentiment ; but Stan- ford in California and Huntington at Wash- ington and New York accomplished it. Early in 1867 the tunnel under the summit of the Sierra Nevada was. finished, and on May 20, 1869, the last spike was driven that joined the East and West. It is interesting now to read the brilliant letters of A. D. Richardson to the New York Tribune, in which he described the scenes of this ride across the continent, now grown almost as familiar to thousands of tourists as the trip across New York State or the tour of the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence. The journey from sea to sea, which then con- sumed twelve days, has been cut down to six, while the hardships of old-time railroad travel have been so eliminated that a Syba- rite might now enjoy the journey. The completion of the railroad witnessed the sudden advance of all its projectors to great wealth. Immigrants flowed into the State by thousands; the company’s lands became valuable ; the facilities of the road for transporting freight and passengers were taxed to the utmost; new territories were opened andclamored for railroad connection, so that a little more than ten years after the opening of the original road saw the build- ing of a new line through Arizona and New Mexico. The rapidity with which the Southern Pacific Road was constructed is one of the marvels of American railroad building. Since then no less than three other transcontinental lines of railroad have been built, others are still in process of con- struction, while the development of the Pacific Coast as well as of the vast interior ter- ritory, which the old school geographies used to call the ‘‘ Great American Desert,’’ has outstripped the dreams of the most sanguine Western speculator.

Page 5

MILLIONAIRES OF THE PACIFIC COAST. 349 These years have naturally witnessed great changes in the fortunes of the men that built the first Pacific railroad. All except Hop- kins are still alive, and all bid fair to enjoy many more years of life. Stanford’s health is broken, as much by the loss of his only son as by the weight of years and heavy cares. Personally, Stanford impresses one as the most sincere of the three men. He has a face which once seen is not soon forgotten. It isa massive face, with overhanging eye- brows and great ox eyes, still keen when he looks up to note the effect of what he says. He talks with extreme deliberation, selecting his words and apparently weighing every statement. His legal training, his long fa- miliarity with great enterprises as well as his association with prominent men at home and abroad have given him a breadth of mind in which his Californian associates are lacking. Stanford’s only passion is for fine horses, and this taste he has gratified on his estate at Palo Alto in the heart of the Santa Clara valley. There he has a large number of fine thoroughbred horses, and when he goes down to this country home it is his pleasure to sit in a large chair in the center of a ring and ee A ee see his favorite young flyers brought out for trial. It was while watching one of these fast trotters—an animal which had the enormous stride of twenty-three feet—that the million- aire conceived the idea that in some part of his course the horse must entirely clear the ground and have all four feet in the air. So he decided to have his horses photographed while in motion. He secured the services of a skillful photographer named Muybridge, and he arranged an ingenious system of cameras worked by electricity by which an instantaneous view of the animal was given as he passed the home line. About forty thousand dollars were spent on these experi- ments ; but they overthrew all previous no- tions on the subject, and the work which Stanford had written and published, entitled ‘*The Horse in Motion,’’ is a valuable con- tribution to science. Senator Stanford has also done more than any one else to improve the breed of horses in California, and to de- monstrate that the climate of that State is superior to Kentucky for the breeding of swift trotting and running stock. It was the hope of Senator Stanford to per- petuate his name and to hand down his wealth a CHARLES CROCKER’S RESIDENCE IN SAN FRANCISCO.

Page 6

35° THE COSMOPOLITAN. to his only son, Leland Stanford, Jr., a lad who showed marked ability in mechanics. But the boy had a weak physique, and three years ago, while in Florence, he contracted the Roman fever and died suddenly. His death aged the father more than twenty years of work and responsibility had done. It led him to devise means for leaving a memorial to his dear son in the form of a great industrial uni- versity to be established on his estate at Palo Alto. He sought distraction from griefin outlining the plans of an institution more generous in scope and endowment than any in this country. He called to his aid the best educators, and with character- istic energy he completed last year the plans for the ‘‘ Leland Stanford, Jr., University,’’ with an endowment of more than twenty millions, in lands and other property, which is sure to increase greatly in value in the next decade. This endowment JAMES .C. FLA0B, includes the Vina ranch of fifty-five thousand acres in Tehama County,on which seven thousand two hundred acres. The is the largest vineyard in the world; the total value of these three ranches is five Girdly wheat ranch in Butte County, com- million three hundred thousand dollars. prising twenty-one thousand acres; and When in California the Senator spends the Palo Alto ranch and stock farm of nearly all his leisure at his country estate. MRS. MARK HOPKINS’ RESIDENCE IN SAN FRANCISCO.

Page 7

MILLIONAIRES OF THE PACIFIC COAST. j.c. FLOOD’S KESIDENCE, SAN FRANCISCO, His town house, on the crown of what has cost, with its furnishings, not less than one million five hundred thousand dollars. It is occupied perhaps two months in the year by the owner. It is rich in wood-carv- ing and frescoes, and the art gallery con- tains the largest collection of old masters outside of a public gallery in this country. Mr. Stanford was elected United States Senator from California two years ago by a large vote. He met practically no opposi- tion in his own party, for even his enemies recognized his honesty and -his fitness for the position. When he announced himself as a candidate, the contest was settled. The Senator divides his time between Washing- ton, New York, and San Francisco, in all of which cities he has houses. He is generally accompanied by his wife, who was Miss Lathrop, of an old and well-known Albany family. She is known for her many chari- ties, the Kindergarten Schools of San Fran- cisco being specially indebted to her bounty. She has probably a larger and finer collec- tion of diamonds than any one in this coun- try, but she seldom wears them. The fortune of Stanford is estimated at fifty million dollars. been irreverently dubbed Nob Hill, Adjoining the Stanford mansion in San Francisco is the striking Norman castle of Mrs. Mark Hopkins. Her husband was the financier of the railroad company, but he wore himself out by constant application, and for several months before his death he JAMES G. FAIR.

Page 8

THE COSMOPOLITAN. JOHN W. MACKAY. had forgotten his own identity. Just before this loss of his memory, he had begun the construction of this superb residence. One day his medical attendant took him to the top of the hill, where he saw the work of building going on, when the millionaire turned to him and in a querulous tone asked, ‘‘ What infernal fool is wasting money on such a house as that?’’ He died soon after. His widow, who was a poor New England girl when Mr. Hopkins married her, inherited all his wealth. Shestill retains her shares in the road, and her adopted son is one of the rising young men in the railroad office. Her country home is at Great Barrington, Mass., where she has built a costly sum- mer residence. She is regarded as the richest woman in America, as she has a fortune of at least forty million dollars, of which she does not spend one-half the in- come. In the next block above the Stanford and Hopkins palaces is the large and pretentious residence of Charles Crocker. There is no architecture about it, but it is finely furnished, and has a large art gallery. Crocker was taken into the railroad company in 1862 with his brother, and his executive abilities were of great help in the building of the railroad. He also had charge of the build- ing of the Southern Pacific Road. In mental ability and in education, however, he is far inferior to his associates. He hasa heavy, pallid face, with no signs of mental vigor or alertness init. He is credited with great shrewdness in business affairs, and in- timate knowledge of all the details of prac- tical railroad work. He recently purchased a costly house in New York, which he will make a bridal gift to his only daughter on her approaching marriage, while he is now building a fine house on one corner of his own lot in San Francisco for a son who was lately married. It is Mr. Crocker’s custom to ride home from the railroad offices in San Francisco in the democratic street-car. Any one who sees him leaning his weary face on his large, gold-headed cane would take him for a deacon or a philanthropist, so benevolent is his expression and so immaculate his cleri- cal-looking neck-tie; but the observer would be greatly mistaken. Crocker has the reputation of being the most merciless of all the millionaires. Some idea of his character may be gained from this incident. Whenhe Cc. P. HUNTINGTON

Page 9

MILLIONAIRES OF THE PACIFIC COAST. bought the block on which his present resi- dence is built, the owner of one lot, a stub- born German, at first refused to sell. When his avarice became excited by the million- aire’s intent eagerness to buy, he gradually increased his price after each successive offer. Finally Crocker became enraged and swore a mighty oath that never while he lived would he buy that property. So he built a huge fence, twenty-five feet high, around the house and lot of the German. The latter soon had to remove his house, and the fence, somewhat reduced in height, still remains to mark the millionaire’s wrath, although the German has been in his grave for several years. Crocker is regarded as worth thirty millions, of which much is in real estate. Of the railroad millionaires C. P. Hun- tington is least known in California. For more than twenty years he has made his home in New York and Washington. In keenness of intellect and knowledge of men he ranks above Stanford., He is a great organizer, an accomplished diplomat, a manipulator of railroad shares and of rail- road legislation, second only to Jay Gould. It shows the rare combination of diverse talent among the founders of the Central Pacific Railroad that one of these four men should have possessed in supreme degree a faculty that was probably the salvation of the whole enterprise in its darkest days. Huntington was a natural trader. The stories of his early shrewdness when he did business in Otsego County, N. Y., resemble the similar tales of Gould’s precocious ability for overreaching his neighbors. He went to California in 1849, and his increase in wealth was only the natural result of the application of extreme shrewdness and economy. In partnership with Mark Hop- kins he built up the greatest hardware busi- ness in the State, and for years the firm dealt largely in miners’ supplies. When the railroad building began, they supplied much of the material for the roads, and this, with his interest in the railroad, made Hun- tington one of the great millionaires of this country. His fortune is estimated at forty millions ; but is probably beyond this, since he has spent very little on outward display. His only expensive taste is for pictures. He lives simply and quietly in New York, but like Jay Gould his hand is felt over a wide on oa 353 extent of territory. As an organizer he is probably the equal-of Gould. His latest ex- ploit—the opening up of the long line of railroad which ends at Newport News and the establishment at that port of a great wheat-shipping depot—has occupied him for the last ten years and, if sucqessful, will add materially to his vast fortune. II. THE BONANZA KINGS. OF all the bonanza millionaires James C. Flood is the most able as well as the most conservative. To him has been given the chargeofthe great banking institution in San Francisco which represents an enormous cap- ital, and he is credited with the management of the periodic stock ‘‘deals’’ in San Fran- cisco which add several millions to the ac- count of the bonanza firm and leave hundreds of small speculators wailing and gnashing their teeth over losses that they are ill able to bear. Mr. Flood isa large, well-preserved man of sixty years ; with his heavy features, gray hair, and of high color he looks more like a fox-hunting Irish squire than an American business man. But a second look at his face shows some of the secrets of his success. He has a strong nose and a power- ful, square-cut chin. ‘These facial traits are borne out in his character. American by birth, Mr. Flood seems to have inherited the shrewdness as well as the strength of consti- tution of his Irish ancestry. He was one of the pioneers who sailed around the Horn in ’49 for the new El Dorado of the Pacific. He tried mining on the Yuba River, made three thousand dollars by hard work in a placer claim, and then went back to New York to engage in business. He found his capital too small, and after a year he returned to San Francisco, formed a partnership with William S. O’Brien, and the two opened a small liquor saloon in a building that still stands as a reminder of the scene of the swiftest leap to fortune ever made in this country. This saloon was then the meeting place of local merchants, gamblers, proprietors from the mines, and adventurers. It was a com- bination of social club and business ex- change. There, many an important bargain was made, and to this place, as toa haven where they knew help was sure, came the penniless proprietor whose pockets were full

Page 10

354 of specimens of ore with millions in it. Naturally, the partners, who were generous to these old miners, shared in the news of the discovery of any rich ore, and by their aid shared also in the proceeds of its develop- ment. In 1862 they made their first lucky investment: in several of the mines on the famous Comstock lode in Nevada. Their gains, which began with thousands of dollars in a month, suddenly advanced to millions. In 1863 they took into partnership John W. Mackay, who held large interests in these silver mines, and six years later the firm was made four-sided—like the Pacific Railway organization—by the admission of James G. Fair, the most skillful practical miner on the Comstock as well as the most able mine manager. From this time on for six years the record of the bonanza firm, as it was called, is the record of the rapid accumulation of wealth that has never been equaled outside of the ‘‘ Arabian Nights’’ stories. The extraordi- nary richness of the mines led to the wildest scramble to secure stock that has been seen since the days of John Law’s South Sea bubble. The gambling passion in San Francisco infected nine-tenths of the people. It broke down all barriers of religion and moral scruples, and swept its victims into the flood which led to sudden fortune. Skeptics like the late Senator Sharon, who had declared that the Comstock was ex- hausted, rushed in to buy stock. Stocks which a few weeks before were selling for two or three dollars per share bounded up by jumps of fifty or one hundred dollars to eight hundred or nine hundred dollars a share. Regular dividends of several dollars per share were paid monthly. This country has never seen gambling excitement to equal that which prevailed in San Francisco from 1870 to 1875. A mag- nificent stock exchange was built; seats were worth forty thousand dollars ; the bro- kers were a privileged class, and did busi- ness in palatial offices, arrayed in purple and fine linen; many of their clients were ladies who came in their carriages to col- lect dividends or invest in new stocks. These brokers, whose legitimate fees fre- quently amounted to one thousand dollars a day, ate and drank of the best; they made San Francisco, like Nineveh of old, the resort of pleasure-seekers, the para- THE COSMOPOLITAN. dise of sensuality; theaters, restaurants, gilded gambling hells abounded. Mean- while a steady stream of silver poured down from the Comstock, and to the heated ima- gination of the speculator the wealth that surrounded him seemed destined to endure forever. But the collapse came over ten years ago, and the whole imposing fabric crumbled into ruin. Over four hundred million dol- lars of silver and gold were taken out of the Comstock mines, and the shares represented nearly as many millions when the ‘‘boom’’ was at its height. The shrinkage of these fictitious values was appalling to those whose whole fortune was invested in mining stocks. The lead- ing shares fell in six months from nine hundred to two hundred dollars ; then be- gan the decline that finally resulted in re- ducing the noblest of the Comstocks to the speculative gutter. The shrinkage affected materially the fortunes ofthe bonanza mil- lionaires; but they still owned the chief mines, and in all these years they have util- ized the properties for the sake of stock gambling. Periodical ‘‘deals’’ have been made, each resulting in gain to the managers and cruel losses to their dupes. Remorseless as the car of Juggernaut the assessment machine has rolled along, wresting from the hard-working people of the Pacific Coast several hundred thou- sand dollars every sixty days. Millions of dollars, which should have gone into homes for laboring people, have been thrown into the maw of the assessment machine, and have gone to swell the fortunes of the half-dozen mining millionaires. A careful estimate shows that the amount paid out in assessments in fifteen years more than equals the sum received by the owners of Comstock shares in dividends, But the gambling interest can not be crushed out, as recent events have demon- strated. Last October you could buy any of these Comstock stocks for fifty cents a share ; some were as low as a quarter of a dollar. Then the pumping out of water in the lower levels of the mines was abandoned, and every one predicted that the end of gam- bling in these shares had been reached ; but a fortnight later rumors of discoveries of rich ore were circulated, and within a month these same stocks had advanced many hun-

Page 11

MILLIONAIRES OF THE PACIFIC COAST. dred per cent. Thus Consolidated Califor- nia and Virginia, which had been quoted at fifty cents, rose to fifty dollars, while others ranged from twenty to thirty dollars. The excitement was intense. The old stock speculators crowded the once famil- iar exchanges ; once more the hard-earned gains of the poor were flung into the wheel of fortune. The singular spectacle was presented of the regular brokers, skeptical of the ‘‘boom’’ that was bring- ing them a royal revenue in commis- sions, ‘‘shorting’’ the market in anticipa- tion of atumble in prices. But the stocks continued to advance until finally the most reckless brokers could no longer endure the strain, and failure followed failure in quick succession. These depressed the prices of stocks, but they still remain at figures that represent three or four times their'real value. Personally, Mr. Flood seems to get small satisfaction from his immense wealth. He has no expensive tastes, and it is doubtless the feeling that his family should enjoy all that wealth can bring that has induced him to establish his luxurious villa in the Santa Clara valley, and the still more luxurious home on the summit of California Street, in San Francisco. For many years after he had gained millions he lived in a modest house and made no pretensions to wealth. Then, following the example of many other tich Californians, he bought a tract of land in the town of San Mateo, the home of a score of millionaires. This he converted into a garden, and built in the center what good judges regard as the handsomest coun- try house on the Pacific Coast. The archi- tecture is Italian renaissance, and the house being painted a dazzling white, its grace and lightness are brought out against the vivid green of the lawn that surrounds it, a green as perfect in this genial climate in December as in June, so that one would fancy from a little distance that he was gazing on the pleasure-house of some Italian noble of the sixteenth century. The brilliancy of the gleaming white walls is enhanced by the beautiful blue of the roof of the veran- da, and by the large blue and white Japa- nese vases that starid on either side of the door-way. The main stairway is of black marble with two Egyptian lions of the same material on either side, while a stone’s throw in front is a black marble fountain. 355 Near at hand isa great conservatory that includes hundreds of the choicest potted plants, while scattered about the lawns are many rare plants and shrubs, and in urns that line the broad driveways to the house are the beautiful fan palms, with their feath- ery leaves, looking as fresh and vigorous as though they felt the air from their native home under the burning equator. Mr. Flood’s San Francisco residence is noticeable as the only house of Connecticut brown stone in the city. It is cne hundred by one hundred and ninety feet, Roman classic in architecture, and is as severely plain and ugly as the Stewart marble palace in New York. The interior, however, is very beautiful, no expense having been spared in ornamentation and furnishing. The architect was Augustus Laver, who built the capitol at Albany, and the decora- tion wasdone by the same New York firm that embellished Tilden’s Gramercy Park palace. The building and decorations cost nearly one million five hundred thousand dollars, while the furnishings cost an additional nine hundred thousand. Several firms competed for the contract of furnishing the palace and submitted designs ; the award was made to the highest bidder, because of the superior taste displayed. This is said to be the largest single contract ever made in this country for the furnishing of a private house. Amid this luxury are now living a family that twenty years ago was contented with the simplest furniture and the plainest food. Mr. Flood has a wife and two children, ason and daughter, both unmarried. There is small prospect that either will ever be mar- ried, sothat another generation will probably see the dissipation of the Flood fortune of thirty million dollars, so rapidly piled up. Senator Fair, of Nevada, who makes his head-quarters at San Francisco, and is a citizen of the Silver State only for political purposes, is a difficult character to analyze. Of all the bonanza firm he no doubt has con- tributed the most to the great develop- ment of Comstock lode. He has mining genius, which was tested by many hard ex- periences in the early days of California. Like Flood, he worked with pick and shovel in the placer mines, but met with small suc- cess ; and it was only when he began to experiment with quartz mining that his natural aptitude was shown. When the

Page 12

356 boom first began on the now famous Com- stock, he joined the expedition of Californian miners that set out for the desolate moun- tains. His faith in the richness of the mines that were then just opened never wavered, and he put every dollar that he could com- mand into these properties. The extraordi- nary skill that he showed in overcoming the new difficulties presented in deep min- ing brought him to the front, and he was superintendent of several of the largest mines when Flood proposed the partnership that resulted in the bonanza firm. It was Fair who designed most of the heavy ma- chinery for pumping the lower bed of the mines, and for carrying on operations at a depth that would have amazed miners of a generation before. Much of the success of this mining was due to the fact that Super- intendent Fair knew intimately every detail of the work that he managed, and that he insisted upon efficiency and economy. With the diamond-tipped drill he explored all the property surrounding the rich lodes in search of other ore-bodies, and the fact that none have been uncovered is confirmation strong as proof of Holy Writ that the Com- stock is practically exhausted. Though Senator Fair was born in Ireland, he is as thorough an American as Flood or Mackay. In person he is tall, stalwart, and handsome. In his fifty-sixth year he looks to be not over forty. His iron consti- tution and his abstemious habits have pre- served him from all illness. He has none of the bluff directness of Flood in conversation. He talks slowly and hesitatingly, as though he were selecting his words with great care, in a low, soft voice. He is a master of per- suasive argument, and his faculty of prom- ising more than he cares to perform is proverbial on the Comstock, and many are the good stories told of the miners who put faith in ‘‘Slippery Jim’s’’ promises. He has the cunning of the serpent when there is any question of trade, and the singular feature of his character is, that even in small matters he shows the same desire to get the better of his neighbor. Perhaps it is his strong Celtic imagination, perhaps the desire to mystify those with whom he comesin contact; but whatever the cause, Fair has the faculty of romancing that would be worth a fortune to him had he turned his talents in the direction of fiction. THE COSMOPOLITAN. He seems to have the power of picturing himself as the central figure of every story that he hears or of every experience that be- falls others. This makes him a remarkably amusing companion ; but it forces his hear- ers to exercise some fine discrimination. In _aword, he hasa genius for those illustra- tive details that the great ‘‘Poo Bah”’ in the Mikado declares ‘‘ give verisimilitude to a bald and uninteresting narrative.” This trait was never shown to greater ad- vantage than in his journey around the world with some San Franciscans. He was constantly regaling them with adventures that they were morally certain had never happened to the Senator, and he mystified most of those whom he encountered by his marvelous tales of California. Perhaps the most striking of his improvisations was giv- en for the benefit of an Englishman who had a fine sugar plantation near Shanghai. After they had been over the estate, Fair compli- mented their host on the condition of the place, but casually remarked that he had a little sugar patch ofhis own in southern Cal- ifornia, a trifle of twenty-five thousand acres. The Englishman looked his astonishment, whereupon the ingenuous Senator began to enlarge upon the methods of sugar culture in California. He showed the minutest knowl- edge of all the processes, information that he had gathered during a vacation trip to the Sandwich Islands, and he closed a long disquisition on the subject by declaring that when he planted his hundred thousand acre tract in sugar-cane the markets of the world would begin to recognize the importance of the sugar industry in the far-Western State. When Fair had left the room the puzzled Englishman appealed to the Senator’s friends for light on this mystery of sugar-cane cul- ture in a State that was not mentioned in his books on the subject. They prudently told him that while their friend had no doubt indulged in the Western habit of ex- aggeration when he spoke of the size of his plantation, still no one could tell what varied enterprises he was engaged in, and sugar-making might be one of them, for all they knew. One of the gentlemen who traveled with him on this memorable trip declared that Fair had a Napoleonic memory for details and that nothing of importance ever escaped hiseye. He seldom read any- thing except an occasional newspaper, but

Page 13

MILLIONAIRES OF THE PACIFIC COAST. all his information was derived from people and observation. Senator Fair’s fortune is estimated at about fifteen million dollars. Years ago, when there was great depression in San Francisco prop- erty, he bought real estate there by the acre. This now represents the most substantial part of his fortune, as its value has increased in many cases ten fold. The Senator has also tried his hand as a railroad manager, having owned for several years the South Pacific Coast Railroad, which extends from San Francisco to Santa Cruz, the most pop- ular watering-place on the Pacific Coast. He is now holding this as a speculation, for the road will be valuable as the terminus of one of the great transcontinental lines. The Senator is no longer a member of the famous bonanza firm. About two years ago there was a falling out between him and Flood ; Mackay bought the Senator’s stock in the Nevada Bank, and the old part- nership was brought to an end. Until he became a millionaire Fair had a happy family life, with his wife and four children. With wealth came dissension. The general impression is that the Senator, like Griffith Gaunt, objected to the presence of a priest in the house, and that this was the primary cause of an estrangement which rapidly grew and culminated in a divorce suit by the wife and a division of the prop- erty. She received about four million five hundred thousand dollars, including a mag- nificent residence in a fashionable quarter of San Francisco. John W. Mackay, the remaining member of the bonanza firm, is far more widely known than his partners, partly because his cable projects have brought him into promi- nence, and partly because of the notoriety which his wife gained in Paris and other European cities by her entertainments, and by the marriage of her daughter to the Prince Colonna. Mackay, like Fair, is above all things a miner. I doubt whether he is ever so happy as when superintending work on the Comstock. There he dresses like the minérs ; he is plain ‘‘John”’ to all the old men now as he was twenty-five years ago, when fortune had not yet favored him ; and he takes the same kindly interest in 357 their welfare that he did when superintend- ent of a minein 859. Like Fair also he is of Irish birth, and came to this country when a mere lad. The story of his fortune is substantially the same as that of his partners. He knew the miners on the Comstock intimately ; they had some capital; the partnership formed as far back as 1863 resulted in great wealth for all. It was Mackay’s knowledge of mining, like Fair’s skill in all engineer- ing difficulties, that gave the Bonanza firm so great an advantage over their rivals. But all these were prominent qualities that would have brought them above the surface in any pursuit. Some idea of the tenacity with which they held to their plans may be gained from the fact that when they had only moderate wealth, they spent a half- million in prospecting the lower levels of the Ophir mine, while the skeptics ridiculed the attempt as the work of lunatics. For this expenditure of a half-million they received one hundred and ten million dollars in the precious metals. Mackay’s wealth is rated at twenty-five million dollars. Were it not for his gray hair Mackay would be called a man under forty. He preserves the freshness of complexion and brightness of eye which seldom endure be- yond fifty. He is well known for his kind- ness to any old Comstock miners, and his charities are many, but unostentatious. Mackay, like his partners, is too much occupied with business enterprises to have any domestic life. For years his wife has lived in Paris, where the splendor of her en- tertainments and her lavish charity have been the subject of newspaper correspond- ence. She wasa poor widow when Mackay first met her in Nevada, and her life has been as hard asthat of the millionaire. She came of good Southern stock, however, and fell naturally into the ways of wealth, so that one who saw her only a few years after her marriage would never have dreamed that she belonged to the mouveaux riches * * The portraits and sketches in this article are from photographs by Tabor of San Francisco, except those of Mr. Flood and Mr. Mackay, which are by Morse of San Francisco. [Completed in the September Number. ]

Page 14

THE RESURRECTION OF SIDDHARTA. By AUG. I, if Res aged priest Amrah returned to his home under a temperature of ninety- five degrees in the shade, and seemed to pay no attention to the intense heat. With an air of indignation, and muttering incoher- ently to himself, he traversed with short, hurried steps the highway leading from Odhipoor to Ramelah, where it curves along the southern shores of the lake. When he reached the extreme end of the promontory, he stopped suddenly and raised his head. The view was a grand one. On the right stood the city, white as milk, rising tier above tier along the lowest slopes of a hill, its cubes of masonry cut into thousands on the background of dark green mango groves. On the left the plain spread out, as far as the eye could see, its fields of sorghum ready for the sickle ; and, in the warm mists of the horizon, the flying silhouette of the peaks of Aravalli could be seen. The prom- ontory upon which Amrah stood fell per- pendicularly into the lake. On the opposite bank, white marble palaces and bathing pavilions of a thousand colors alternated with groups of date trees, fig and tamarind ; and all this charming landscape decoration was repeated inversely in the mirage of the gray waters below. Amrah’s eyes fixed themselves on a little isle, a wondrous clump of verdure and of flowers, where the slender colonnade of a palace showed through copses of lemon trees. But the old Brahman was thinking of noth- ing less than admiring it. His little eyes, glittering with covetousness, seemed to devour with their regard the enchanting island. His brows were knit frowningly, and his fingers kneaded fiercely a magnifi- cent necklace of pearls that he held in his hand. He made a gesture of vexation, and, turning to the left, disappeared in a ravine, which in a few minutes brought him to his dwelling. In the midst of rambling grounds, sus- ceptible of cultivation but left fallow to mark the sanctity of the spot, a high rec- tangular wall inclosed a kind of garden, or GLARDON. rather forest, whence the roof of a sugar. loaf-shaped pagoda pointed toward the sky. Amrah pushed open a worm-eaten door with his foot, and entered an avenue that wound between mango, fig, and banian trees, whose huge and distorted trunks dipped into thickets of herbaceous plants. Lianas as thick as pythons, rising from the bosom of masses of gigantic ferns, strained in their voluminous folds the towering monarchs of primeval growth. In the greenish twilight fluttered the wings of innumerable moths, and under the tall grass the murmuring of flowing water could be heard. After the dust of the sun-searched soil, and the dazzling glare of the open air, there was something startling in the con- trast. A feeble but never*failing spring made the fortune of this little bit of ground. It was the only one for miles around, and the popular imagination had attributed its origin to an otherwise terrible divinity, the sinister K4@li. Hence the erection of a temple, of which Amrah was at present the officiating priest. When he had arrived at the end of the long alley of verdure, the old man stopped to cast a look of contempt on the edifice that had served him as a dwelling for almost the half of a century. An artist might have uttered a cry of admiration. The pagoda was small, it is true; its roof, formed of truncated cones piled one upon the other, diminishing in size toward the top, was not much higher than the fig trees that pressed upon it almost to suffocation. But how decrepit with age and venerable the little old pagoda was! Its reddish sandstone, tinted green by the moisture of the long rains and perforated with millions of little holes, looked as though half decayed. Fromthe finely fluted pilasters set in the walls a stone had fallen here and there, and turtle-doves nested in the cavities. Plump pigeons cooed along the cornices. A black monkey with scarlet face, seated on the edge of the roof, his hands resting on his knees, seemed placed

Page 15

THE RESURRECTION OF SIDDHARTA. there expressly to personify the genius of the spot. He descended precipitately at the sight of his master, and, approaching him coaxingly, was about to rummage the folds of his girdle, where more than once before he had been taught to find toothsome delicacies meant for him. But the priest was in a bad humor. ‘Down, Hanouman ; /eith d'an diabrail leat /’’ (Go to the devil!) the reverend Brahman cried. This very uncanonical exclamation was accompanied by a gesture so terrifying that the poor animal fled incontinently with his tail in the air. ‘“‘Lalloo !”’ “ Hey, you?”’ A yawn was the answer to this appeal, and a young boy, clad ina handkerchief of Indian muslin, came out of a bamboo hut, stretching his arms. The threatening mien of his patron gave him a salutary shock, and he ran up to him murmuring the custom- ary, ‘‘Cia an nidh is dil leat?’ (What is your pleasure ?) ‘“My pleasure! My pleasure!’ replied the priest. ‘‘ You care much about it! Is this the way you guard the house during my absence? And if some faithful worshiper had come?’’ “T would have waked up, Sahib. The Deagh-Mhathair* (Good Mother) would not let me sleep.’’ “Hold your tongue, you speak nonsense. And yet, what matter?’’ The old man raised his arms to Heaven to take it to witness that his discouragement was justified. ‘“VYes,’’ he added in a doleful voice, ‘‘the good days are gone by for the Deagh- Mhathair ! Since that accursed Baboo hit upon the scheme of building a temple to Chrishna Tighearna (Lord Chrishna), the Good Mother has been abandoned ; she, the patroness of the realm. And as for us, all that is left us is to die of hunger !”’ From the depths of his rotund paunch the good man drew a profound sigh. Helooked at the necklace that he still held in his hand, and anger again took possession of him. ‘‘See,”’ said he, ‘‘that is all his majesty gave me. I demanded of him a new pagoda —_ the Brahman. in the world are vociferated Lalloo! where * Popular name of Goddess Kili. 359 and a small domain in honor of the patron goddess, and he answered me with this trifle. All the favors, all the smiles to-day, are for that ill-begotten god, who has no other merit than to be the latest comer in our good city of Odhipoor. By the belly of Brahma, what do they want me todo with three or four dozen pearls?’ He threw the necklace at Lalloo’s face, who dodged, and ran to pick up the precious ornament. “Ts it for me? Can I have it?”’’ cried he with beaming face. ‘*How, rogue! A necklace worth a thou- sand crowns, the like of which could not be Give it back quick, found in the kingdom ! or——”’ Lalloo handed the necklace to his master, but this time he did not escape the cuff that struck him full on the jaw. After this summary punishment, Amrah, his soul much relieved, directed his steps majestically toward the pagoda. The door was closed only with a latch, an old oaken door covered with filigree work of iron wrought with marvelous delicacy. He opened it, and, closing it behind him, found himself plunged in the cool obscurity of the sanctuary. * There were no windows, and it might have been pitch dark night, were it not for a little opening, skillfully effected above the door between two rough hewn stones. A thin ray of light by this means stole into the pagoda, and penetrated to the lowest re- cesses, causing the menacing image of the goddess to rise from the darkness, a statue of polished ebony, perhaps two thousand years old, and of a diabolical aspect. In its eyes, formed of large rubies circled with un- burnished silver, danced a ruddy flame. A frightful grin twisted its mouth, bringing into view two rows of pointed teeth and causing to protrude a tongue as red as blood. From its neck and arms hung strings of rich jewels, and its breast was crossed diagonally by a chaplet of little skulls in polished ivory, as big as oranges. The lower part of the body was almost hidden in darkness; but two massive and crooked legs could be vaguely perceived, resting on the carcass of a dead tiger. The priest crossed the sanctuary in order to hang the newly acquired collar on the neck of the goddess, when he stumbled in

Page 16

360 the darkness. A soft body barred his way. He stooped with an exclamation of terror, and ascertained that a man was there, pros- trate in the attitude of prayer, but insensible and cold. A corpse, a corpse in the house of God ; that was the last straw ! At this moment Lalloo entered, attracted by the unwonted cry whose echo had shaken the edifice. Aided by the Brahman, who was panting with fright, he carried the unfortu- nate into the light of day. He had come, it seemed, to expire at the feet of the goddess. ‘‘It is a fakir,’’ said he, after having ex- amined him. II. It was in truth a fakir; the naked limbs were smeared with ashes ; the breast zebraed with alternate lines of red and white, the unkempt hair, proclaimed him such. That tall, emaciated form stretched out in the sun was indeed that of an ascetic. Amrah con- sidered him in silence, asking himself if he had never before seen this personage and how it happened that he had stranded on his premises. All at once the fakir’s breast arose, then sank slowly ; a moan issued from his lips, his eyes opened. He threw around him an astonished gaze and madea sign that he was thirsty. They gave him a drink; then he arose, and, supporting himself on the shoulder of the young man, went and lay down at the foot of a banian tree. Thus far he had not spoken a word. As for the Brahman, the violent shock had struck him dumb. ‘* My brothef,’’ said he tothe fakir at last, ‘An sigh Dé Ort!’’ (God’s peace be on you!) ‘‘ You are welcome in the house of KA4li ; but who are you, pray, and why have I found you just now at the feet of the Good Mother in this miserable condition ?”’ The fakir pressed his hand on his heart and bowed with a strange smile on his face. ‘Tt was only a fainting fit,’’ he murmured. ‘‘T have been traveling five days without tasting food. Please give mea little milk. Father, am I so changed that you do not know me any more ?”’ Amrah fixed a searching regard on that face, wasted by suffering, that nevertheless smiled on him. ‘*Siddharté!’’ he cried in a hoarse voice. “No, it is not possible. You could not have changed in this way !’’ THE COSMOPOLITAN. As the fakir continued to smile, he turned toward his attendant and said to him with comical roughness : ‘*What.are you doing there? you been told to go after milk ?’’ Then he threw himself on the breast of the fakir and pressed him in his arms without saying a word ; but the tears ran down his fat cheeks. The emotion of the old priest will appear natural when it is known that Siddharta was the only son of his sister, and that this nephew brought up by him in the shade of the sanctuary he had made his heir: for he had had no children himself by the wife whom he had married before consecrating himself to the service of the Goddess KAli. In India the Brahmans are the sacerdotal caste; but all Brahmans are not priests. Those who are called by circumstances to enter into holy orders must first pass some years in the marriage state. This initiation into social life formis a part of their educa- tion. Siddhart4, consequently, had left the pagoda at the age of fifteen to get married. His uncle had married him to a daughter of one of his friends, and the young couple went to the city to live. A son having been born of this union, they waited until five years had passed ; then Siddharté said adieu forever to his wife, who from that time for- ward was compelled to live in widowhood supported by the state. He himself took his departure in the character of a fakir, or beg- ging monk, to make the tour of the holy cities of Hindostan. As for the child, his mother kept him until he had reached the age of ten years, after which she handed him over to the aged Amrah to be brought up in the shade of the sanctuary. Him we have seen under the name of Lalloo, per- forming the functions of servitor at his grand-uncle’s side, while waiting to be ini- tiated in his turn into the mysteries of life. During seven long years Siddharté had traveled through that vast country that ex- tends from the sources of the Indus to Cape Camorin, always with naked feet, sometimes on his hands and knees; for the Good Mother is a hard mistress, requiring her slaves to inflict upon themselves for her pleasure all kinds of tortures. He had passed whole months in the jungle, at times standing day after day on one foot under the burning rays of the sun, taking rest neither Haven't

Page 17

THE RESURRECTION OF SIDDHARTA. day nor night, at times seated under a fig tree meditating on the vanity of the world and absorbed in his reflections to that extent that he often remained eight days without taking nourishment. At other times he might have been found at the shrine of a pagoda at Benares or Poshkare assiduously devoting himself to the teachings of some priest renowned for wisdom, or practicing the rites of occult worship. He was of a nervous temperament, given to asceticism and mystic reveries, and little by little his love became sublimed through the prac- tice of the sacred duties of his profession, and at the same time his body deadened and hardened through his austerities and freed from all carnal passion, had become the docile instrument of a soul devoured by holi- ness and craving for spiritual power. Thus prepared to play in his own country the glorious réle of a representative of the deity, Siddhart4 had returned to Odhipoor, his head filled with ambitious dreams, little imagining the disaster that awaited him. III. THE dwelling of the priest of K4li was sit- uated at the eastern end of the garden, about a stone’s throw from the pagoda. It was an edifice of a unique form and very ancient, composed of three square structures stand- ing in a row behind a veranda, and sur- mounted by little flat domes. One of these served as sleeping room ; another was the kitchen. The third in- closed the Sacred Spring (/obar naomvtha), which issued from the ground at the bottom of acircular basin and found exit through an opening in the wall, whenceit poured its waters into irrigation trenches. Here it was comparatively cool, and the priest used it as a cellar. Each day the country people brought one or two jars of milk ; a box con- tained the sacks of corn, sorghum, and wheat. A niche hollowed in the wall was filled with earthen pans of clarified butter ; bananas hung from a beam in orderly array. And that was all. The priests of K4li are vowed to frugality. Every evening after sundown Lalloo would knead a dozen cakes, bake them on a piece of sheet-iron, cover them with melted butter, and present them with great ceremony to his master, who would eat three or four and leave the rest to him; after which they 361 would drink a couple of quarts of cold milk, swallow a few grains of roasted corn, and go to bed, the priest in his little anchorite’s cell, Lalloo on the other side of the pagoda in his bamboo hut, like a watch-dog in his kennel. Ordinarily this was the routine of their ex- istence, and was followed daily with the most perfect regularity. However, on the day of Siddharta’s arrival there was an infraction of this rule. Lalloo went to bed, but his father and his grand- uncle remained up. They had naturally many things to say to each other, for they had been parted seven long years. Seated on their heels at the opposite ends of a mat stretched on the veranda, with the moonbeams playing about them among the pillars, they smoked from the same pipe alternately, the one speaking whilst the other smoked. There was no one to hear them ; apart from Lalloo, who was sleeping with folded hands on the other side of the pagoda, they were alone in the vast in- closure. The profound silence of the night in the midst of their solitary surroundings gave a more distinct murmur to the stream. At intervals a lazy breath of air stirred the feathery crest of the date trees, giving a metallic sound. The bats flew in zigzags through the serene sky. Siddharta related the story of his pere- grinations briefly, for he was a man of few words. He ended by detailing his plans for the future, and they were truly grand. ‘You see, father, I have more than once been made to suffer when comparing the marvels of our cults at Bombay, Poonah, and Benares with the poverty of our endow- ment. The Good Mother is one of the great- est deities of ourcountry ; this pagoda is not worthy of her. That is why I say we must apply ourselves in the first place to obtain- ing money to construct one according to the plans I have brought with me. But, that’s not all. We have herea holy well ; what use have we made of it? To serve for ablutions, to irrigate the garden—it is not worth while to have holy water for that. I have seen a well at Ahmedabad not half as good as ours dedicated to Lord Vishnu. It has been surrounded with vast porticoes, and marble basins have been sunk in it, where hundreds of pilgrims can make their ablutions at the same time. The sick come to it to be cured of their maladies, sinners

Page 18

362 bathe in it and are purified. That single spring (and it is not even constant) has made the fortune of the city. It adds luster to the name of Vishnu for hundreds of leagues around. Can we say as much for ours? No, can we? Well, father, all this must change. Odhipoor is the capital of a rich and populous kingdom ; our Maharajah posses- ses immense treasures. Demand of him a dozen /acs,* and I undertake to affirm that, rebuilding our sanctuary, it will draw to it a hundred thousand pilgrims annually. We will take assistants ; we will have a college for priests and schools for children. We shall finish, perhaps, thanks to the gold that shall fall in heaps into the coffers of the Good Mother, by building hospitals as they ‘have done in Bombay and elsewhere. That will be—that will be the triumph of the sov- ereign of our hearts ; that will be the glory of Odhipoor !”’ The fakir arose. In the glow of his en- thusiasm he took a few hurried steps on the sand, embracing with his glance the heav- ens and the earth, and drawing into his lungs in long-drawn breaths, the breeze of the evening. Then he returned and seated himself again opposite the old priest, who handed him the pipe in silence. His depressed air struck Siddharta. ‘“What is the matter, would think that my project did not please father ? One you. Have you any objections tomake?’’ ‘‘Simply one,’’ answered Amrah, sadly ; ‘*but that is a weighty one. The Maharajah will never consent to the pecuniary sacrifice which you wish to impose on him.”’ ‘‘And why, pray ; has he ceased during my absence to be the generous prince that he was ?’’ ‘‘During your absence, my son, many things have happened, and more than once I would have given much to have you near me. I fear that it is too late now.”’ The fakir crossed his arms on his breast. ‘*T am listening,’’ he said briefly. The old Brahman talked a long time, glad at last of being able to confide his grievances to a discreet ear. A short time after Sid- dharta’s departure, a rich banker, who had some peccadilloes on his conscience, hit upon the idea of building a superb pagoda at his own expense in order to install there- *A lac amounts to $50,000, THE COSMOPOLITAN. in a miraculous image of Chrishna. The Rajah had deigned to honor with his pres- ence the inauguration of the edifice, and through the circumstance the popular favor was directed toward it. Was it any won- der? The worship of Chrishna, that effemi- nate and sensual semi-deity, had more at- traction for worldly minds and for women than that of a divinity certainly superior, but austere and exacting as regards morals. The Good Mother had been abandoned and her courts had become a desert. In vain the heart-broken priest had organized pro- cessions to revive the popular zeal ; the ryots alone had remained faithful to the worship of their fathers. Almost all the citizens had gone over to Chrishna Tig- hearna. Then Amrah had thought to have erected in a prominent place a pagoda that would rival in splendor that of the banker ; he had boldly demanded of the king the conces- sion of the island and the funds necessary to build it. Unfortunately the priest of Chrishna, a stranger, had known how to gain the good graces of the royal house; Amrah’s demand had been repulsed. Al- though beaten in the first encounter, the good man, nevertheless, was not discour- aged. He had sought to influence the counsels of the King through the interven- tion of the queen, who had remained faith- ful to the ancient worship. But the accur- sed Lakshman had possessed the deftness to present to the King as his mistress a crea- ture of his own, a creature of infernal beauty, malice and cunning ; and when the priest of Kali returned to the charge, they made fun of him. ‘‘For, in short,’’ said he, ‘‘ was it not a mockery to give me a necklace when I asked for a house? I tell you, my dear child, the Rajah is bewitched ; nothing can be done, nothing, unless,’’ added the poor man, hop- ing still in spite of himself, ‘‘ unless you who have studied so much can find a way to re-establish our affairs. Let us see ; speak. Do you feel in yourself the strength to strug- gle against this abettor of Chrishna, against this evil-omened Lakshman, whom the Good Mother before now ought to have crushed like a louse?’’ ‘“*T will think of it,’’ answered Siddharta, laconically. Amrah stooped forward to scrutinize the

Page 19

THE RESURRECTION OF SIDDHARTA,. countenance of his companion. Siddharté’s face had the rigidity of marble, but a furrow had hollowed itself between his brows and his eyes darted lightning. IV. THE palace of the Maharajah (Great King) occupies the summit of the hill of Odhi- poor and commands the city along its entire wall of sixty feet in height, which supports a terrace bordered by a parapet. Well, one morning on getting out of bed the king be- held on this terrace a spectacle that he did not expect: a man was sitting cross-legged on the parapet, with his face turned toward the royal apartments. ““Hey, hey!’’ said he; ‘‘there is some good fellow taking liberties. Faz go foil!’’ (Wait a little !) He called a valet de chambre, who knew nothing, and ran to get information. Noone had seen the unknown enter. He must have stolen upon the terrace at night by eluding the vigilance of the sentinels. His Majesty, Ganderrap IV., fell into a violent rage, had a half-dozen of his guards bastinadoed, and was going to order at least one of them shot, when he recollected very luckily that there was a British resident at Odhipoor, charged among other things with seeing that there shouldn’t be any more summary executions in that realm. In the mean time the major-domo, who had been sent to drive the man away, re- turned, saying that the man was a fakir. ‘“A fakir?’’ the King repeated sharply. ‘‘A fakir can’t be driven off, it is true ; but, you fool, you could beg him politely to go away.’’ ‘“May your Majesty be merciful to me,’’ answered the major-domo, bowing to the ground; ‘‘I did beg him to go away.”’ ‘‘ But he is still there, in the same place !’’ ‘‘ Sire, he made no answer.”’ To the royal recollection a like occurrence had never been heard of before. Ganderrap IV. nearly went into a fit of apoplexy. In spite of his obesity he passed rapidly through the peristyle, and advanced to the terrace : ‘‘Hey, hey! father,”’ angry tone. He stopped, dumb with astonishment. The fakir was a Shivaite, a kind of people with whom it is not healthy to crack jokes. he began in an 363 Besides he did not look at the King, did not seem even to be aware of his presence. Im- movable on the parapet, like a statue on its pedestal, he had the fixed and absorbed gaze of a man contemplating some distant object. ‘‘Father,’’ began the King again, with a shade of respect in his voice, ‘‘ you are not aware, perhaps, that this terrace is pri- vate ground. It isn’t as though I were offended at finding you here at this hour; and if you have something to ask of me?’”’ No answer, not a movement, nothing that might indicate that the fakir heard the words of the King. The latter was taken with a sort of terror. He stood there as if petrified, contemplating the man whom he thought he saw for the first time. The fakir had a tall form, broad shoulders and a deep breast. His face, with a low fore- head, was severe in profile, with regular features ; excessively thin, but of singular purity. His eyes glittered with an angry expression through the disordered clusters of his hair that fell over his countenance. One might have called it the mask of the God of retribution. After a moment the King turned on his heels and re-entered the palace in a pensive frame of mind. He couldn’t make anything of it. Perhaps all this procedure meant only the extravagant freak of a visionary. As a measure of precaution, however, he gave orders that no one should disturb the holy man}; then he took up again the rou- tine of his occupations, received his min- isters, made believe as usual to transact business with them, went out on horseback to take a bath iff the lake, and soon for- got all about the fakir. But on his return in the evening he was struck as though by an electric shock on perceiving suddenly that the man was stiil there. He revolved in his brain various thoughts. ‘*Bah !’’ said he at last, ‘‘he must fin- ish sooner or later by taking himself off.’’ And he went to bed. The Maharajah of Odhipoor slept badly that night. When he awoke, the sun, al- ready high in the heavens, bathed the ter- race in its fires. Ganderrap IV. ran to the window. The fakir was there, in the same position, bareheaded under the burning sun. An hour afterward the entire royal house-

Page 20

364 hold departed without warning on a grand hunt that lasted until night-fall. Two hun- dred coolies had beaten the fields, penetrated the bushes, tracked the game, and the Ra- jah returned home proud of having killed with his own hand a couple of antelopes and three hares. The fakir had not budged. Ganderrap IV. rested still worse than the preceding night. He got up two or three times softly to take a look at the terrace. The deepest silence reigned on it, all was asleep under the soft light of the moon, the birds and the flowers ; but the fakir was still there, and he assuredly did not sleep. The King returned and lay down again. Lugubrious thoughts floated through his brain. His past came back to him ; he felt in his conscience a vague uneasiness. In what had he been culpable? He could not say ; however, he promised himself to re- lease in the morning a poor devil whom he had kept in prison two years for having laughed in his presence. Slightly relieved after this resolution, he decided to go to sleep again. But he could not feel alone; his imagination showed him, through the walls, the fakir, immovable and rigid, brood- ing over the royal dwelling with his fixed and flaming eyes. And at moments as he listened it seemed to him that the fakir had moved; he heard him coming and sat up suddenly in his bed to be ready to receive him. Finally his distress became se great that he called a servant and had his couch car- ried into a room opening toward the west, under the pretext that the rising sun—but, in fact, a king has no ne€d of pretexts. The third morning came. Ganderrap IV. felt completely broken down. He refused his breakfast and walked furiously through the palace at hap-hazard under the weight of an obsession which began to affect all his sur- roundings. The fakir was the theme of conversation around him ; he ascended into the observatory: a new spectacle awaited him. Everywhere on the terraced roofs of the city were standing groups of curious citizens, pointing their fingers at the fakir. The wretch had chosen his post only too well; he could be seen from every direc- tion as he sat on the parapet of the castle yonder. By dint of thinking of it the Rajah had THE COSMOPOLITAN. ended by suspecting the design of the fakir, Shiva, whose marks this man bore, was the husband of K4li; and, as his conscience was not without reproach as regards the Good Mother, he asked himself if he ought not to appeal to the priest of K4li to have this enigma unriddled. But his pride not allow- ing him to make up his mind to this, he sent for his new friend and counselor, the priest of Chrishna, and led him tothe terrace where no living soul had dared to show himself during three days. Lakshman questioned the fakir, who made no answer ; his nostrils only became dilated, and a convulsive tremor took possession of him as if the presence of his adversary annoyed him. The priest of Chrishna was not a very scrupulous man, yet he did not dare to per- sist in his interrogatories for fear of creating scandal, and fearing also, perhaps, the anger of the goddess K4li’s partisans. The King, as he led him back, asked his advice : ‘* Shall I send for Amrah?’’ ‘““Nil go deimh en”’ (by no means), “ your Majesty. There is a conspiracy here to ex- tort money from you.”’ ‘*What shall I do with this man, then ?”’ ‘*Leave him alone ; he will finish by get- ting enough of it.’’ Another day (the fourth) passed without bringing any change in the fakir; the man must be of bronze. Then the King decided to send for Amrah. The priest of K4li did not condescend to answer this appeal in person; the young man, his servitor, made his appearance at the palace instead. Ganderrap IV. knit his brows, but swallowed the humiliation with- out saying a word. The representative of the divinity took a high tone: ‘*Sire,’’ said he, ‘‘ the Good Mother is en- raged at your refusal of her legitimate de- mands. That is why her divine spouse has sent to you one of his servants.”’ ‘‘And what does this servant of Shiva cal- culate to do?”’ ‘**To wait.”’ ‘“To wait—for what? Until when? And, in short, what does he want ?’’ ‘“A pagoda,’’ laconically answered the young Brahman, who sustained, without flinching, the angry gaze of the King. There was silence. Ganderrap IV. twisted nervously in his fingers the fringed extremi- ties of his sash. '

Page 21

THE RESURRECTION OF SIDDHARTA. ‘IT suppose the Good Mother wants, at the least, five or six acs of rupees? ”’ ‘“*Ten,’’ * answered Lalloo. “Ten! Ten dacs / where does the Good Mother expect me to find ten /acs for her ser- vice ?”’ For all the answer Lalloo seated himself on the ground and began to finger his rosary, repeating his prayers in a low voice, as if resigned to a long stay. The King, much astonished, looked at him in silence ; such assurance made him smile. ‘*Come,’’ said he, in a paternal voice, ‘‘ we will say eight /acs. I will give eight /acs to the Good Mother, and you shall pray her to grant me her favor.’’ Lalloo was too absorbed to listen ; he made no answer. ‘‘Well,’’ continued the King, a little ashamed of chaffering with the divinity, ‘‘I will give a piece of ground to build on, and another piece for a garden. Eight /acs anda grant of land is indeed no trifling present.”’ ‘*Sire,’’ said the young man, interrupting his devotions with an effort, ‘‘the earth be- longs to God, who can do with it what he pleases.”’ Then he put himself to counting his beads again. yanderrap IV. felt a nervous twitching in his arms ; he would have liked to strangle this impudent extortionist. However, he re- frained from taking him by the collar; he knew that such an offense would outlaw him at a blow, and, king as he was, his subjects would turn from him as from the veriest pa- riah. As to having him thrown out doors, that wouldn’t work any better. There was not one of his guards who would have dared to touch this individual with his finger. He contented himself with taking a few turns around the hall, sighing several times ; then all at once, without looking at his interloc- utor : ‘“Well,’’ said he, bitterly, ‘‘I see we shall have to let that pass. Go and tell the lord fakir that his demand is granted.”’ We SrppHARTA had given the King a month to execute his agreement ; that gave him time to breathe. The first days were replete with the happiness he felt of being freed from a terrible nightmare. Ganderrap’s sleep and * $500, 00x 365 appetite were restored ; he felt himself a new man. Excursions on the water, with fire- works at night, coursing and still-hunting, the dancing of bayadéres and gorgeous fétes succeeded each other in agreeable variety. When, however, the King made known to his ministers the goddess K4li’s demand, they protested unanimously against such an extortion. They gave various weighty rea- sons for their view of the case. The Minis- ter of the Exchequer declared that he would rather hand in his resignation. Ganderrap IV. felt the sudden desire come over him to have him beheaded ; in the first impulse of the moment he always forgot Her Britannic Majesty’s resident. However, his anger subsided quickly, for, at bottom, he partook of his first minister’s repugnance to useless expenditure. But he had given his word, and dreaded to break faith with the tutelary divinity of the kingdom. What was to be done? It is sometimes permitted to make use of sharp practice when dealing with the immor- tals; perhaps a way could be found; but what way? Happily the priest of Chrishna was a man of resources. With his advice, the King sent for Siddharta. He did not receive him on the terrace ; that place was ill-omened: nor in the interior of the palace ; who knows what charms the fakir might cast on its walls? The inter- view took place in the middle of a lawn in front of the western facade of the palace. The King, who did not wish for a private interview, and who besides wanted witnesses, was surrounded by his ministers, among whom, as soon as he arrived, Siddharté noticed the author of the conspiracy, the abhorred priest of Chrishna. And it was even he who spoke in the King’s name. The entire company were seated in a semi- circle, on carpets, on the right and left of his majesty, who sat enthroned on a velvet divan. Siddharté and Lakshman remained standing. ‘* Brother,’’ said this last, after a preamble, “the great King finds the request of the Good Mother legitimate and proper. He is ready to fulfill his promise ; but as the ques- tion of a considerable sum of money is in- volved, and as the interests of the state are at stake, it has seemed fitting to him to sur- round himself with all possible guarantees.

Page 22

366 Now if, as we are assured, the divine Shiva takes this affair in hand himself, means will not be lacking to his messenger to cause himself to be recognized as such.”’ In speaking these words, Lakshman turned to the ministers who murmured their appro- bation. He continued : , ‘*The King demands a sign, my brother. Are you prepared to give it?”’ Siddharta cast a look of disdain on the man who had made himself the instrument of a diabolical machination, and bowing be- before the King, ‘* Sire,’”’ said he, ‘‘I shall do in the name of my master and in his service all that is just and reasonable.”’ ‘Very well,’ replied Lakshman, whose eyes sparkled with joy. ‘‘ What sign, then, shall we demand of the servant of a great and dreadful God ? The Lord Shiva, every- body knows, is the sovereign dispenser of life; he it is who destroys and who con- structs, who gives death and who revivi- fies. Priest of Shiva, the sign that His Majesty demands is that you give up your life. What could be more just and reason- able? Ifthe spouse of K4li is with you, you can die ; he will find the means to resuscitate you. Then His Majesty will be glad to exe- cute his promise.”’ Lakshman with a graceful but ironical gesture stretched out his hand toward the King, who smiled and said : “T pledge myself thereto by my kingly word !’’ There was a moment of agitation in the assembly. They exchanged glances, pass- ing mutual felicitations in a low voice: but sonn the attention of all was fixed on Sid- dhartéa, whom they looked upon as lost. Strange: now when he knew the conditions imposed by his adversaries he seeemed re- lieved. A smile parted his lips. In the midst of a profound silence, he said to the King : ‘Sire, you have sworn ; my master has heard you. He shall give the sign you exact. Iask eight days to prepare myself for death.”’ His assurance was marvelous. Had they a charlatan to deal with, orafool? A kind of dumb astonishment took possession of the lookers-on. Each of them gazed at the man, trying to fathom his meaning. Lakshman was lost in musing. THE COSMOPOLITAN. ‘* Sire,’’ said he, of a sudden, ‘‘ theservant of Shiva Tighearna is a man of honor, and none among us doubts that he will come forth triumphant from the test that Your Majesty’s wisdom has imposed. But in order that no one may suspect a trick, it is fitting that this test be made in public and under rigorous conditions. If Your Majesty permits’’ (the King made a gesture of as- sent), ‘‘I shall demand that the tomb of the fakir be dug in this very spot, and that he issue from it only at the end of a month.”’ The eyes of all were instantly fixed on Sid- dharta ; and the King asked him : ‘*My father, the conditions are severe. Is it in your power to accept them? Be careful what you answer. I declare to you that I shall see to the strict execution of the compact. In this very spot I shall have a grave dug where you will have to pass an entire month. The opening shall be sealed with my seal, and sentinels shall be placed around it to guard it. If you hold to life, you are free to forego the trial. If, haply, you accept the challenge, and Shiva gives you power to issue living from the tomb, not only the ten /acs that you have demanded shall be at your service, but we will render you all the honors your soul can desire. Speak ; what is your decision ?”’ A feeling of admiration and pity awoke in the breast of the King. It was plain from the tremulous fervor of his voice that he would have liked to save the fakir. He did not keep them waiting foran answer. Turn- ing alternately toward the King and toward the priest of Chrishna, he expressed himself, with emotion, as follows: ‘‘Sire, it is in the power of the divine Shiva, and of his celestial spouse, to bring to naught the malignity of men. In eight days I shall be here ; in your presence I shall enter the mysterious avenues of death, and you shall have me laid inthe tomb. What need is there for your seal and guards? Have barley planted on my grave ; when it shall have ripened, the priest of the Good Mother will come to bring me back to life, in your presence. I have said.”’ When he finished speaking, Siddhartaé bowed; then he turned on his heels and walked slowly away without looking behind him. A tremor ran through the assembly, and every individual sprang up with a bound.

Page 23

THE RESURRECTION OF SIDDHAR TA. They surrounded the priest of Chrishna and questionedhim. Heshrugged hisshoulders : ‘‘To pretend to issue living from the tomb, after three months, is the idea of an impostor ora fool. In the first case, he will leave the country ; in the second, he is a dead man. Believe me, whatever happens, we shall hear no more of the demands of the Good Mother.”’ The King shook his head, and several of his ministers shook theirs after him. Who knows how far-reaching may be the power of Shiva? VI. THE incredible news traveled through the city in a few hours, and caused great excite- ment. The worshipers of K4li ran in crowds to the pagoda, bearing presents and asking explanations. Amrah, whom this revival of popularity made twenty years younger, went and came in the sanctuary with a gra- cious word for each; but if he deigned to accept the presents, on the other hand, he refused all explanation. The fakir was in- visible ; he was preparing himself in solitude for the great trial. They had to content themselves with offering sacrifices in his favor, and addressing their prayers to the all-powerful deity that she would protect him against the evil spells of the Devil. The tidings reached the dwelling of Colonel Blake, députy commissioner of the Queen, at Odhipoor. At first he felt rather embar- rassed ; he had been directed to respect the religious usages of the people, but to op- pose formally any sacrifices of human life, of which the Hindoos were at all times ex- tremely prodigal. Now, Siddharta was evi- dently one of those fanatics who would not recoil even before suicide. As for admitting the hypothesis of a resurrection, such an absurdity never entered the Colonel’s head. He sent for his physician, Doctor Simpson, and that worthy savant shrugged his shoul- ders. ‘*Let them alone,’’ said he; ‘‘I believe neither in the death nor resurrection of the fakir. These people understand much better than we the secrets of hypnotism.”’ The Colonel rejected equally this hypoth- esis. All the secrets of hypnotism would not bring a man to life again after resting three months in the tomb. ‘‘How do you know ?’’ the doctor replied. ‘Has it not been proven that even under ordinary conditions men have been able to 367 support a fast of forty days? It is quite a different thing in the cataleptic state. Isaw at Belfast a case of coma where the subject passed two months apparently dead, without swallowing even a drop of beef-tea.”’ ‘*A case of coma, yes. But here you have a man in full health whom they are going deliberately to put to death, with hasheesh or opium, I suppose.”’ ‘‘Not at all, not at all. He must take his own life. And you may be sure that he has his little receipt, both to kill and resuscitate. There will be neither poison employed nor blood spilt, I promise you. Unless Jesus Christ, no one has passed or will ever pass living from the tomb with a wound six inches deep in his side. In a word, if you wish, I will take the entire responsibility of the affair.’’ ‘*Allright,’’ answered the Colonel. ‘‘ But I wash my hands of the whole transaction, you know.”’ On the day agreed upon, toward five o’clock in the evening, the whole city emp- tied itself into the royal gardens. Gander- rap IV., fearing the crowd, had his guards doubled. But the guards were pressed back and overwhelmed. The citizens passed over the walls and through the hedges. The trees were !:den down with bronzed and turbaned fruitage. It was impossible to re- sist the current. They had to be satisfied with keeping free, by means of a cordon of ‘Sepoys, the lawn where the drama was to be enacted. The entire court was present. The balco- nies, the roofs on the terrace of the palace, were garnished with fair spectators wrapped in shawls. Colonel Blake, fearing to make himself ridiculous, was not there ; but Simp- son occupied a seat of honor atthe side of the Maharajah. In the center of the lawn a grave had been dug whose inner sides were covered with a coating of stucco a half-inch thick. A frame of masonry formed the top, built around the rim of the grave. The stone slab destined to fit into this frame as a cover for the cavity lay on the ground. An officer of the King’s chamber, girded with a blue, gold-tasseled sash, stood ready to seal the tomb with His Majesty’s signet. The rays of the setting sun touching the summits of the date trees shed a glow of blood-red splendor on the walls of the pal- ace. It was the month of October, after the

Page 24

368 rains, when the atmosphere possesses an ex- traordinary transparency, and the lush ver- dure in all its glory shines as though spread with varnish. The jessamine and orange trees sent forth, in exquisite exhalation, from their millions of flowers abundance of perfume. The paroquets flew hither and thither in hurrying swarms, sparkling in the air like gems. Nature had robed herself in her festal dress to see the fakir die. A little before six o’clock a movement was seen in the crowd near the gate of en- trance. The ranks opened and Siddharté ap- peared accompanied by the priest of K4li and the young Lalloo. The people cast them- selves on their faces along his passage and many enthusiasts pressed their lips to the prints of his feet in the sod. He appeared to see no one; he advanced calm, resolute, all his lineaments breathing serenity and peace, his eyes alone betraying through their glitter the exaltation of his spirit. He made obeisance before the King, and with- out speaking a word seated himself, cross- legged, on a pall that had been spread near the grave. Profound silence reigned around him. He was seen to draw into his lungs in deep respiration large volumes of air ; then he stopped breathing. His gaze was fixed before him. A few minutes passed. Suddenly a trembling seized him, his limbs stiffened, and his gaze became dead and changeless. Amrah stooped over him. He closed his eyes gently; then he stuffed his nostrils with pledgets of cotton steeped in wax. “It is done,’’ said he ; ‘‘the soul of Sid- dhart4 has taken its flight to Shiva Tig- hearna.”’ The doctor approached. ‘‘One moment,”’ said he, shortly, seeing that the two priests were about to wrap their companion in the winding-sheet. He raised one of his eye- lids and closed it again, felt the pulse, and assured himselfthat the limbs had taken the rigidity of iron. The crowd began to murmur ; he returned to the Rajah, saying to himself under his breath : ‘‘Just as I thought, a state of catalepsy. But three months ! Well, we shall see. It will be interesting, all the same.’’ When he returned to his place, Amrah and Lalloo drew the cloth over Siddharta’s head and knotted it firmly. Then, lifting THE COSMOPOLITAN. him like a sack of wheat, they inclosed him in a box which the chamberlain sealed with his signet. At a sign from Amrah, some coolies approached ; the box was lowered into the grave, the opening was sealed, the slab covered with earth, and immediately a gardener sowed barley over it, as had been agreed upon. Then the excitement broke forth. As soon as the Rajah retired to his apartments, the crowd precipitated itself on the lawn: they surrounded the place of sepulture and gave themselves up to delirious cries, excla- mations, and invocations to Shiva Nile- chumhashtach (Omnipotent Shiva). They drew still nearer, falling prostrate and kiss- ing the holy ground. They called on Sid- dharta and improvised then and there relig- ious worship in his honor. Amrah had disappeared, but certain officious persons ran after him, brought him back in triumph and compelled him to consecrate with a li- bation of oil and with prayer a block of stone torn from an artificial grotto and which they erected at the head of the tomb as an altar. Twenty-four young men vol- unteered to watch in turn, at the sepulcher, each three hours at a time, until the day of resurrection. And every evening, after the labors of the day were over, artisans, citi- zens, and husbandmen of the neighborhood assembled there to pass a few moments and to see if the barley had sprouted, adding their prayers to those of their brethren in favor of him who slept under the green covering of the lawn. The Rajah would have gladly dispensed with the perpetual coming and going through his park ; he took care not to wit- ness it. A religious terror took possession ofhim. Gloomy and preoccupied, he gave himself up to fasting and penance in secret, renouncing his customary recreations. And strange phenomenon, at which he was him- self amazed, after having so ardently wished for the eternal disappearance of Siddharta with his disagreeable request, he was now desirous of seeing this miracle accomplished, which would cost him at least a million rupees. Sometimes he descended to the lawn at sunrise and stood contemplating long with dreamy gaze that tiny field of barley whose ears were beginning to turn yellow. Wasit possible that under this mantle of verdure a

Page 25

THE RESURRECTION OF SIDDHARTA. 369 human being was now reposing who was des- tined still to play his part on the world’s stage? The thought terrified him ; and if, peradventure, the breeze of the morning happened to sway the ears, he trembled and fled. VII. Axsout five o'clock of a morning in Janu- ary the venerable priest of K4li issued from his cell, looked at the sky that was growing white with the dawn, and yawningly stretched his limbs. His eyes were red and blinking. It could be seen that he had not slept, and the cause of his sleeplessness was that the great day had arrived. The sacred pigeons, eager for their morn- ing repast, flitted about him, grazing him with their wings. He scattered the flock with a gesture, repulsed the monkey as he came pressing his snout softly into his mas- ter’s hand, and directed his steps to the bath-room, where he remained a long time engaged in his ablutions. Then he went and aroused the boy, who could easily have slept from morning to evening without any trouble in the world. ‘‘Lalloo,’’ said he, pushing him with his foot, ‘‘can you sleep on a day like this?”’ Lalloo arose nimbly and gazed with as- tonishment on the melancholy face of his patron. ‘‘T am ready ; what is the matter, father ? Is not this the day of our triumph?’’ ‘“Ofourtriumph? Yes, or of our disaster perhaps, who knows ?”’ ‘* Are you afraid ?”’ “‘T am not afraid,’’ interrupted the old man. ‘‘I know the Lord is mighty, and your father ‘‘ My father will triumph !”’ ‘Yes, yes, without doubt. He knew bet- ter than anybody what he had to do—only— you see—three months under ground—at least we must scrupulously do our duty. Your father directed us to use water from the spring. Did he give any other direc- tions ?”’ ‘“We had nothing else to do,’’ answered the young man with importance, ‘‘ but to take along an amphora of the sacred water and to have a phial of palm-oil to——”’ Amrah took his head between his hands. ‘True, true; I had forgotten the palm-oil. Bi truagh agad le dho shean-oglach, a Thigh- 25 earna!’’ (Lord, have pity on thy old ser- vant.) Lalloo brought from the temple a large, narrow-necked vase, which he filled with limpid water, and putting it on his shoulder, said he was ready to start. The old man had already a phial of oil in his hand. And they began their journey without looking behind them. At the garden gate a pleasant surprise awaited the servantsofthe pagoda. Achariot to which two oxen were yoked, and covered with a silken canopy, had been sent by the Rajah to convey them over the mile anda half of ground that separated them from the palace. Four officials on horseback were sent to escort them, and the chamberlain was there also pompously stalking behind his heavy mass of chased silver. Several hundreds of the faithful, their arms and necks laden with garlands of flowers, were waiting until the chariot should advance, to follow singing sacred hymns. It was the first-fruits of a triumph. Amrah trembled with joy and terror, his mind divided be- tween the delight of an unprecedented ova- tion and the fearful doubt that tortured his heart. He seated himself worthily and sol- emnly on the velvet cushions, with Lalloo on his left, and the procession took its way with measured pace toward the city, a part of whose streets it was necessary to traverse before reaching the palace. Amrah was astonished to find the streets completely deserted, merely a few old old people and children here and there around the wells. This unwonted sight was soon explained to him. When they arrived in the upper portion of the city on the great square where the avenue of date trees begins that runs in front of the park, the chariot was stopped a long time ; the entire popula- tion of Odhipoor massed in the neighbor- hood of the palace had blocked the way. A detachment of mounted guards came up at last, and, pushing back the multitude, made an avenue for the priests of K4li, who entered the precincts of the royal gardens. The Rajah was at his post surrounded, as three months before, by his ministers, among whom could be distinguished the priest of Chrishna and the English physician, recog- nizable at a distance by his big felt helmet. ‘*Lalloo,’’ said the old priest in a low voice, ‘‘do you speak in the name of the re TEE SP LIE OBE

Page 26

37° Good Mcther ; I feel myself too agitated to speak.”’ The young man nodded assent, and his confident air, together with the manly ex- pression of his face, showed him equal to the task. ‘*Sire,”’ said he, in vibrating accents (bowing before the King), ‘‘ Shiva’s hour has sounded ; would Your Majesty please to have opened Siddharta’s tomb ?’’ At a sign from the King, two men armed with silver sickles cut down the plot of barley and deposited the sheaf at the foot of the throne. Ganderrap IV. then spoke, pointing his hand at the golden ears that littered the ground. ‘* Whatever,’’ said he, ‘‘ may be the out- come of this ordeal to which the son of K4li has submitted, our royal will is that no one ever shall eat of that grain. But if the fakir, Siddhart4, issues living from the sepulcher in which his remains have lain during three months, I pledge myself to give to the Good Mother a pearl for every one of these ears.”’ ‘*Sire,’’ answered Lalloo, in his silvery voice that sounded like a clarion, ‘‘ the pro- duce of the field of death belongs to him who has caused it tosprout from the earth’s bosom. The Lord Shiva commands that the grain be distributed among his disciples as the assured pledge of rich harvests. But,’’ add- ed he, stooping to gather some ears, ‘‘it is fitting that Your Majesty receive the first fruits of this treasure.’’ He presented the ears to the King, who took them, trembling, and handed them im- mediately to his chamberlain. Then the work of the grave-diggers began, and the box was brought tothe light of day. The seal was intact. The grave-clothes were un- tied and Siddhart4 appeared before the eyes of all. He had preserved the same position with his legs doubled up under him ; only his head was bowed, hanging over on one shoulder. His entire body was wrinkled and dried up, and Dr. Simpson ascertained that there was in this sample of mummified mortality neither perceptible pulse nor heart- beat. However, -Amrah had the sacred water boiled on a chafing-dish ; he poured some of it several times on the fakir’s naked skull. Then, assisted by his nephew, he THE COSMOPOLITAN. rubbed the body with a napkin, anointed him with oil and withdrew the plugs of cot- ton from his nostrils. He separated the rigid jaws and sought with his finger care- fully for the tongue, the end of which, folded back, rested on the larynx. The tongue was dry and hard. He rubbed it with oil. Then came the turn of the eyeballs, and these he anointed and moved up and down several times. A half an hour had passed since he began his ministrations, and thus far no signs of the return of life were perceptible. Laksh- man dissimulated his joy with difficulty. Amrah began again his ablutions of warm water and frictions. At last the first mani- festations of awakening showed themselves. A tremor passed over the stiffened limbs, the nostrils expanded, the pulse returned. Once more he opened the patient’s mouth and lubricated his tongue and palate. A sigh issued from the depths of his bosom—a sigh of immense relief, for Siddharta opened his eyes. The sun had just risen in the distance, behind the rosy hills, and mounted into heaven, chasing before it light, fleecy clouds that vanished in the blue. A gust of wind passed along the crests of the date trees, whose long palm branches waved in honor of the fakir’s triumph. In the crowd assembled around the lawn not a human being stirred ; each one held his breath, waiting to see what would hap- pen. Siddharté had the uncertain gaze of a sleeper who awakes after protracted slum- ber. He seemed to make an effort to col- lect his ideas. Then his eyes settled on the Rajah’s face, and a smile rippled about the corners of his mouth. ‘*Sire,’’ said he, in a voice that was but a breath, though everybody heard it, ‘‘do you believe in me now?”’ Ganderrap IV., for his only answer, threw himself at the fakir’s feet and kissed them repeatedly. The charm was broken; the aged Amrah, who had supported during that critical hour an extraordinary mental strain, began to sob in a loud voice. The ministers quitted their seats, threw them- selves on their faces on the ground, and adored the great divinity in the person of his resuscitated servant, while all the peo- ple shouted, wept, and uttered exclamations

Page 27

MY FRIEND AND MY BOOKS. of joy. The priest of Chrishna withdrew discreetly. On the evening of the same day the mem- bers of the court and high dignitaries of the realm met together at a banquet in the palace. The British commissioner and his physician were present, but the place of honor had been reserved for Siddharté. A robe of silk enveloped his emaciated limbs and he was covered with jewels from head to foot like an idol. He looked tired but con- tented, and received with innate dignity the homage of which he was the object. Toward the conclusion of the repast the King arose and, opening a casket, drew from it a piece of paper adorned with the royal seal, and laid it at the feet of the fakir. He seized it with trembling hand and devoured it with hiseyes. It was an order on the treasury for ten /acsofrupees. Heslidit quietly between the folds of his girdle, saying, with a smile: ‘* Believe me, ‘sire, the Good Mother will recompense you.’’ And that was all. Before leaving the hall Dr. Simpson found means of having a private conversation with the henceforth all-powerful fakir. After hav- ing complimented him warmly on his tri- umph : ‘Tell me,’’ said he, with a sly air, ‘‘ this is not the first time, is it, that you have passed several weeks in the cataleptic state?”’ Siddharté did not answer immediately ; he looked attentively at the doctor and seemed to reflect. MY FRIEND AND 371 “It is very possible,’’ said he, finally, ‘that my Master has ere this caused me to die and resuscitated me. Who knows how many existences I have already passed through, and how many I shall pass through yet before being judged worthy to enter into the Nirvana of God ?”’ ‘*Oh!’’ answered the doctor, ‘‘I am not speaking of metempsychosis, but of that lethargic sleep into which you had volun- tarily plunged yourself. I declare that in the interests of science——’’ ‘Dear doctor,’’ interrupted Siddharté, with a candid air, ‘‘ have you the intention of becoming a disciple of Shiva?’’ ‘*No, not exactly ; but——’’ ‘‘Then I have nothing to tell you. There are mysteries to which an adept alone can penetrate.’’ ; Simpson could not get any more out of him, and he went away cursing the ped- antry that deprived science of so much curi- ous knowledge. The old pagoda has been torn down, and Amrah does not despair of living long enough to preside at the dedication of the magnificent edifice that is to take its place. The work is being pushed forward actively under the supervision of an English archi- tect. The ten /acs of rupees will not be enough, but gifts flow in from all the prov- inces of the kingdom, and the story gocs that Her Britannic Majesty’s representative has subscribed a large sum. MY BOOKS. By WILLIAM C. RICHARDS. I BID my friend, the more that friend I love, Into my reading-room and by my side, Glad, if some happy hours he may abide, Nor he norI take heed how swift they move : This is, I wot, true friendship’s charm to prove, When two kinned hearts, in mutual faith allied, Mingle their thoughts and words in one warm tide, That flows all doubts and jealousies above ! In fellowship so dear, one fault I own— Discourtesy to friends, my guests before : And till se came, enough for my delight ; Left now, alas! in disrespectful plight, And mute, nor with reproachful look or tone, Prone on their face and tossed upon the floor !

Page 28

CHURCH OF STE. ANNE DE BEAUPRE, PILGRIMS AND SHRINES IN CANADA. By J. MACDONALD OXLEY. HE vast and wonderful church whose center is fixed in the Eternal City upon the Seven Hills, but whose circumference embraces the utmost ends of the earth, has no more faithful, fervent, and docile daughter than the Canadian Province of Quebec. From the earliest days of French occupation the cross had gone side by side with the sword (or even preceded it) in the conquest of the country, and Church and State had been so inextricably intermingled that it is little wonder, seeing how compara- tively slight are the changes the centuries have wrought, if the Aaditant of our day, like the colonist of Champlain’s, scarce recog- nizes in them two distinct fountains of au- thority. It may be said with truth that it was hardly so much France as Rome that perpetuated herself in this portion of the New World, ‘* Nerved by disaster, springing with renewed vitality from ashes and corruption, and ranging the earth to reconquer abroad what she had lost at home,’’ to quote Park- man’s stately phrase, the Church found in New France unfettered scope for her most ambitious schemes. In her name and under her holy auspices was the work of conquest carried on. All who opposed her were re- garded as being inspired by the great adver- sary of mankind himself, and treated ac- cordingly. The black-robed Jesuit formed a never-absent figure in camp and fort, and priestly vestments went hand in hand with plumed helmets to the dens and fastnesses of aboriginal barbarism.

Page 29

PILGRIMS AND SHRINES IN CANADA. The transference of New France to the British Crown but slightly diminished the power and influence of the Church. By the Treaty of Paris and the Quebec Act she was leftin undisturbed enjoyment of her immense possessions, her special privileges, and her tithes. Since then there has been no check in her career or cloud upon her fortunes : and so universal, deep-seated, and ardent are the feelings borne toward her by the vast 373 bulk of the inhabitants of Quebec, that were His Holiness to be driven out from the Vati- can, Avignon being no longer available, he could hardly hope to find a more favorable place wherein to re-establish his spiritual throne than in this portion of the Canadian Dominion. The traveler whose happy lot it is to take a summer voyage upon the lower St. Law- rence can not fail to be struck by a feature INTERIOR OF THE CHTRCH.

Page 30

374 that distinguishes the landscape all the way from Montreal, where this glorious river nar- rows to quite commonplace proportions, to Grand Metis, where it spreads out until the _ farther bank is lost in azure haze ; and that is the many little groups of white-walled, red-roofed cottages gathered so close around a great stone church as to suggest irresist- ibly the idea of a hen brooding over her callow fledgelings. Looking upon these huge edifices with their massive stone walls, tall tin-tiled towers, and attendant buildings of corresponding importance, and turning from them to the tiny cottages, the narrow strips of farms, well-nig h de-fertilized by persistence in unwise methods, and the evident absence of general prosperity, they seem strangely disproportioned both in size and in cost to the congregation for whose spiritual needs they have been provided. That their cost: has been excessive and acruel tax upon the people there is no doubt ; but they are not so much too large for the community they serve as a view from the water would make one think, because in that part of Canada all the rallying points of the population are on the river-bank, and there is a wide swath of country extending inland, the inhabitants of which tend toward the St. Lawrence, whether their goal be the church or the market. So that, big as the church appears, it is not a whit too commodious on the Sundays and Saints’ days, when the wor- shipers gather from far and near. That a province whose people have always been loyal adherents of a church with whom the intercessory power of the saints is a most precious and important tenet should rejoice in shrines where those saints may have fit homage done them by pious pilgrims seems altogether necessary. According- ly, we are not surprised to find such shrines imparting an atmos- phere of peculiar sanctity to more than one favored locality. Seeing that the patron saint of New France was properly St. Joseph, it is not easy to understand why the honor of a shrine should never have been conferred upon him, but almost exclusively reserved for Saint Anne, whom good Catho- lics reverence as the Mother of the Holy Virgin. Neither have THE COSMOPOLITAN. I been able to discover any explanation of this somewhat curious fact, not even the erudite Abbé Casgrain throwing any light upon the matter in his interesting brochure, to which I am indebted for much assistance in the historical portion of this articie. Whatever the reason be, Sainte Anne has been abundantly honored ; as, witness the names : Ste. Anne de Restigouche, de Port- neuf, des Monts, du Saguenay, de la Poca- tiére, de la Perade, de Yamachiche, de Saint- Hyacinthe, des Plaines, names that, through their delicious blending of the mellifiuous Indian and sharp, clear French tongues, obtain a romantic beauty that makes our ordinary English appellations seem insuffer- ably prosaic. At many of these places there are shrines or sanctuaries to which pilgrims resort in search of divine assistance; and besides them, there are four others that have long been recognized as enjoying an especial share of saintly favor. These are the shrines of Ste. Anne du Bout-de-l’Isle, du Détroit, de la Beauce, and de Varennes. The first named owed its origin, no doubt, to the hardy voyageurs who every year adventured far toward the West in quest of fur, and who were wont, before attempting the as- cent of the dangerous rapids near Montreal, to kneel upon the river-bank and commit themselves to the protection of their patron saint. Then, on their safe return, they would naturally kneel at the same spot, and render thanks to her whose gracious hand, they be- lieved, had brought them safe through the countless dangers of flood and forest. ORIGINAL CHAPEL.

Page 31

PILGRIMS AND SHRINES IN CANADA. SUNDAY MORNING. (The large building is the Souvenir Chapel.) The shrine at Varennes is distinguished by the possession of a miracle-working pict- ure of Ste. Anne, that attracts great crowds of pilgrims. Varennes has been a place of pious resort since 1692, and a beautiful church stands there, from which every year a solemn and stately procession, bearing the precious picture, sets forth, and, passing up and down the village street, makes glad the hearts of thousands assembled to do it honor. One other subsidiary place of pilgrimage yet awaits mention ; and this time it is not the mother of Mary, but the Holy Virgin herself, who is honored thereby, to wit, at the lovely little hamlet of 1’Ange Gardien, just below the Falls of Montmorenci, where there is a consecrated shrine of Notre Dame de Lourdes, having a statue of Our Lady, before which a perpetually burning light serves to symbolize her unwearying interces- sion on behalf of those who put their trust in her. But, however deeply these shrines may be venerated, and however successful may be the prayers properly presented at them, they pale their ineffectual fires before that of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, the oldest and most re- nowned of them all, known par excellence as la Grande Sainte Anne, because of the sur- passing number and brilliance of the mira- cles that have been wrought thereat, or as la bonne Sainte Anne, in token of the high place it holds in the affections of the people. Ste. Anne de Beaupré is most picturesquely situated on the northern bank of the St. Lawrence, a little more than twenty miles below Quebec. In front the mighty river rolls its vast flood onward to the sea, and behind Mont Ste. Anne rises nearly three thousand feet cloudward, its sloping sides checkered with farms and wrinkled with rail-fences; while on either hand a rich agricultural district stretches away into the distance, solid, white-walled cottages, gray, weather-beaten barns, and high, glistening church spires following so close on one an- -other as to betoken a population that must put no small strain upon the resources of the land to make due provision for its needs. The village itself is just the ordinary cluster of habitant cottages, with the addition of a number of maisons de pension, whose pro- prietors find profitable employment in pro- viding for the wants of the pilgrims flock- ing thither all summer long. It must be confessed that it is in some respects the least attractive in appearance of the long line of villages that brighten the river-bank, ed i ESA TEES i pe aa

Page 32

376 for the multitude of hotels, restaurants, and boarding-houses imparts an unpleasantly prosaic, modern air to the picture ; and this effect is deepened by the obtrusively new and garish look of the great church that forms the central point. It does not seem to be very clear just how Petit Cap, that being the primitive name of the locality, came to be indicated as the spot that Ste. Anne would delight to honor by her special blessing. According to one le- gend, in the early days of the Canadian 1S LU Wij Wd LU iia is ~ THE COSMOPULITAN. more substantial and more wisely situated edifice of stone. The other and probably more authentic version is, that in the year 1658 a certain Etienne de Lessart, one of the colonists who had settled at Petit Cap, being moved there- to possibly by a suggestion from the saint herself, offered to M. de Queylus, parish priest at Quebec, a fine lot of land with a frontage of two acres, and a depth of a league and a half, on condition that arrangements were made without delay for the erection of INTERIOR OF MAISON DE PENSION, STE. ANNE DE BEAUPRE. colony some Breton sailors, being overtaken by a terrible storm whilst ascending the river, made a vow to Ste. Anne that, if she’ would rescue them from their present peril, they would erect a chapel in her honor on the first spot where they touched land. Scarcely had they made their vow when the wind fell, the waves sank to rest, the heav- ens shone blue above them, and presently they were safe on shore at Petit Cap. In fulfillment of their promise, they built a little wooden chapel, which, being too close to the river-bank, speedily fell a victim to the floods, and was thereupon replaced by a achurch thereon. The offer and condition were readily accepted, and work begun with the utmost promptness, the first stone being laid by no less important a personage than the Governor General of New France, M. d’Aillebout. The church was dedicated to Sainte Anne, in memory, no doubt, of the famous shrine of Sainte Anne d’Auray, in that beloved land from which the builders had exiled themselves in the hope of making the New World redress the balance of the Old. So eager was the patron saint to manifest her gracious powers, that she did not even

Page 33

PILGRIMS AND SHRINES IN CANADA. await the completion of the building erected in her honor. While the foundation was being laid, a dweller in la Céte de Beaupré, named Louis Guimont, for many years a sufferer from a disease in the loins that bent him double, inspired by a religious fervor that enabled him to rise superior to his suf- ferings, managed to place with his own hands three large stones upon the growing walls ; and lo! the third stone had scarcely been adjusted to its own niche, when there passed through the pain-racked toiler a strange feeling of exultation and strength ; and standing erect for the first time in many years he shouted aloud in wonder and joy at the miracle that had been wrought. The report of this marvel quickly spread. All the little world of that primitive community fell to talking about it, and among those to whom it brought a mighty hope was Marie- Esther Ramage, the wife of Elie Godin. She, poor soul, had been bowed down for a lonz time under an affliction that compelled her to drag herself painfully along by dint of crutches, and seemed beyond the power of human aid to alleviate. Hearing from her husband of how Louis Guimont had been blessed, she determined to seek relief from the same source. Forthwith she repaired to the holy spot and invoked Ste. Anne’s inter- cession on her behalf. Her prayer was granted. Her infirmities departed from her, and she went back to her home rejoicing. These miracles were followed by many others, not less remarkable, whose reputa- tion, spreading abroad, ere long made the little stone chapel the most celebrated place of pilgrimage in Canada. That strange compound of mysticism and practical piety, Marie de 1’ Incarnation, writing to her son in September, 1665, speaks thus of the prodi- gies which had been accomplished at this new shrine: ‘‘ About seven leagues from here (Quebec) is a village called Petit Cap, where there is a church dedicated to Ste. Anne, in which our Lord has been pleased to do great marvels for the sake of that holy Saint, the mother of the thrice-holy Virgin. There the paralytics may be seen’ to walk, the blind to receive their sight, and the sick of every sort to be made well again.”’ Twelve years after the erection of the church it became the treasury of one of the most precious relics the Catholic Church in Canada possesses; namely, a part of the 29 377. bone of one finger of, Sainte Anne herself. Sent in 1668 to Bishop Laval by the Chapter at Carcassone, it was confided to the care of Henri Nouvel, one of the Jesuit missionaries in New France, and first solemnly exhibited to the adoring congregation in the Chapel of Ste. Anne de Beaupré on the 12th March, 1670. The history of this inestimable trea- sure is thus told by Abbé Casgrain : ‘‘During the reign of Marcus Aurelius the infidels invaded the Holy Land and de- stroyed all the monuments, public or pri- vate, together with the.coffins they en- tombed. One coffin, however, escaped this sacrilegious treatment. The infidel icono- clasts could neither break it open nor harm it; and in their rage they cast it into the sea. But, strange to say, although of a prodigious weight, the coffin, instead of «sinking to the bottom, floated lightly upon the waves until it found a resting-place in the sands near the town of Apt, in Provence. Here it lay hidden for a long time. One day some fishermen from the town caught in their net a fish so large that they had to dis- embark in order to drag it toland. When they had, after tremendous efforts, got the monster on shore, he took to leaping and throwing himself about with such energy and purpose as to dig a deep hole in the beach, and thereby bring to light the buried coffin. Forthwith the people gathered and sought to open it, but again it defied all efforts, and accordingly was, by the bishop’s direction, deposited in a crypt which was then walled up, a burning lamp having first been placed inside. ‘“‘The centuries slipped away unevent- fully until Charlemagne came to Apt as conqueror of Provence. He took up his quarters with the Baron Cazeneuve, who had a son deaf and dumb from his birth. Charlemagne, no less renowned for his Chris- tian faith than for his martial prowess, ordered a purification of the church, which had, through the neglect of the people, be- come the abode of the owls and the bats. On the day appointed, all Provence assem- bled for the ceremony. In the very midst of the solemnities the deaf-mute, forcing his way through the throng, indicated to Charle- magne, by eager gesticulations, that he should cause a certain ancient wall to be torn down. Charlemagne not only gave orders accordingly, but with his kingly

Page 34

378 hands assisted in the work. The long-for- gotten crypt was opened, and there, still burning brightly, stood the lamp lit many centuries before. The first to enter the crypt was young Cazeneuve, and scarcely had he set foot within it, when he cried with a loud voice that filled the whole neighborhood : ‘In this sacred place reposes the body of the thrice-glorious Anne, mother of the Virgin Mary.’ The king, accompanied by the arch- bishop, then went down into the crypt, and after having made obeisance, opened the coffin without any difficulty, finding therein a perfect body with this inscription : ‘ This, is the body of Sainte Anne, mother of the Virgin Mary.’ ”’ Besides the precious relic, whose wonder- ful history has just been outlined, the church at Ste. Anne has been enriched by a costly chasuble from Queen Anne of Austria, who worked upon it with her own royal hands, by a splendid silver crucifix from one of the viceroys of New France, and more recently by a fragment of the true cross upon which the Saviour of mankind fulfilled his work, and a bit of stone from the foundation of the house in which Sainte Anne lived during the days of her earthly sojourning. The present church is the third (or if the legend of the grateful sailors erecting a little wooden chapel be accepted, the fourth) that has stood at Ste. Anne. The first stone structure was thoughtlessly placed so near the river’s edge that at very high tides it was frequently flooded, and much damage there- by occasioned. Accordingly, in 1676, M. Filion, then curé at Ste. Anne, began the construction of another building on a more advantageous site and imposing scale, which continued to be the resort of pilgrims for nearly two centuries, when it, too, fella prey to the tooth of time and the relentless severity of Canadian winters. The walls began to show such ominous signs of crack- ing, and the roof of falling in, that a new church was deemed absolutely necessary. As one looks upon the present edifice, so uncompromisingly modern, and, in fact, garish in both its outward and inward ap- pearance, one can not help regretting that some means were not found of preserving the quaint old structure that had been hal- lowed with the prayers and praises of many generations of worshipers. Antiquities having a direct relation with ourselves are THE COSMOPOLITAN. all too few on this Western Continent ; and even two centuries suffice to impart a flavor of age which is very grateful to those who are wearied with the universal newness of th'ags. By such, indeed, a slight soupcon of comfort may be obtained at Ste. Anne from a tiny chapel standing a little to the left of the big barn-like church, and wearing a look of age in spite of its modern architect- ure, that is somewhat puzzling, until we are informed that it was built out of the ruins of the ancient sanctuary. I have already shown that the fame of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, although it may be said to have obtained its full proportions only within recent days, was well estab- lished from the earliest period of its history. Not content with seeking to inspire in their own countrymen that devotion to the patron saint they felt to be her due, the missionaries -of those proselytizing times were equally anxious that their dusky converts should possess like precious faith, and they spread abroad her praises with such good effect that year after year the Christianized Indians flocked in increasing numbers to worship at her shrine. Could we but call up to our view one of the féte-days of the long ago, we might see two long lines of bark canoes, the one as- cending, the other descending, the river, converging toward /a bonne Ste. Anne, their erstwhile savage occupants chanting holy songs as they plied their vigorous paddles. From the leafy wilderness of the West, from sea-girt Gaspésie and the farthest capes of the St. Lawrence Gulf, from the barren shores of Hudson’s Bay and the fertile bor- ders of the Great Lakes, the red men came, drawn thither by the wonders they had heard, until ofttimes they even outnumbered their pale-face brethren. The gatherings that assemble at Ste. Anne to-day are of a far different character. The poetry and picturesqueness of buckler and breast-plate, feathered head-gear and painted face are gone. The people with few excep- tions look as modern as ourselves; and though we may not perhaps be very clear in our understanding of their French patois, it constitutes about the only marked distinc- tion between us andthem. The pilgrimage season opens with the féte-day of the patron saint, which falls on the 26th of July, and continues all summer long. There are two

Page 35

PILGRIMS AND SHRINES IN CANADA. ways of reaching Ste. Anne from Quebec. You may go either by boat or by carriage. Each route can boast of attractions in which the other does not share. Going by land, you pass through the oldest and fairest por- tion of the Province of Quebec, the far- famed Céte de Beaupré, concerning which Abbé Ferland avers: ‘‘If you have never visited the Céte de Beaupré, you know neither Canada nor the Canadians.’”’ ‘ All that is lovely in landscape is to be found there,’’ says J. G. A. Creighton, in ‘‘ Pictur- esque Canada.’’ ‘‘ The broad sweep of the great river of Canada between the ramparts of Cape Diamond and the forest-crowned crest of Cape Tourmente is fringed with rich meadows rising in terraces of verdure, slope after slope, to the foot of the somber hills that wall in the vast amphitheater. In the foreground the north channel, hemmed in by the bold cliffs of the Island of Orleans, sparkles in the sun. Far away across the Traverse, as you look between the tonsured head of Petit Cap and the point of Orleans, a cluster of low islands breaks the broad ex- panse of the main stream, the brilliant blue of which melts on the distant horizon into the hardly purer azure of the sky. ‘Quaint batteaux with swelling canvas make their slow way along, or, lying high on the flats, await theircargo. Statelyships glide down with the favoring tide. The marshes are studded with hay-makers gath- ering in the abundant yield, or are dotted with cattle. Inland, stiff poplars and bushy elms trace out the long brown ribbons of the roads. Here and there the white cot- tages group closer together, and the spire of the overshadowing church, topping the trees, marks the center of a parish. Rich pastures, waving grain, orchards, and maple groves lead the eye back among their softly blending tints to the dark masses of purple and green with which the forests clothe the mountains. Huge rifts, in which sunlight and shadow work rare effects, reveal where imprisoned streams burst their way through the Laurentian rocksin a succession of mag- nificent cascades. As the sun gets low, one perchance catches the flash reflected from some of the lovely lakes that lie among the hills.’’ In going down by stream you, of course, miss much of this beauty from the lowness of your point of vision ; but you have recom- 379 pense in the refreshing coolness and comfort of the voyage, and in the magnificent view of the Montmorenci Falls as the vast volume of water hurls itself headlong over the lofty cliff which forms the river-bank, in its mad haste to join its forces with the mighty cur- rent sweeping by. The distance is but twenty-one miles either way, and three hours at most suffice for its accomplishment. In- deed, to the majority of pilgrims their visit to Ste. Anne falls within the compass of a single day. They leave Quebec by boat in the early morning, reach the village in time for breakfast, go first to confession, then to mass, and then to the communion, pay due reverence to the shrine and its sacred sur- roundings, and return in the afternoon, hav- ing first had dinner in one of the numerous inns, where an excellent meal can always be obtained at most reasonable charges. It is estimated that no less than one hun- dred thousand pilgrims seek the gracious offices of Sainte Anne every year. From north, south, east, and west, from all parts of the United States, as well as from the Canadian Provinces, the halt, maimed, blind, and dumb, ay, and those whose trou- bles lie deeper than the mere miseries of the flesh, gather in pathetic crowds, at the sight of which one is strangely stirred, not only with natural sympathy for their sufferings, but because of the suggestion of those days when ‘‘they brought unto Him all sick peo- ple that were taken with divers diseases, and torments.”’ Throughout the long day the church is crowded with relays of worshipers, the most of whom are there in a spirit of unques- tioning faith and trustful expectation, al- though the ubiquitous tourist who has come to see, if not to scoff, may often be observed gazing about him with a half-puzzled, half- pitying air. For such there are many inter- esting objects in the church besides the de- vout congregation. Over the chief altar is a famous painting by Lebrun, representing two pilgrims, one of either sex, kneeling in supplication at Ste. Anne’s feet. Above the side-doors hang much less artistic ex vofo representations of marvelous escapes from ‘perils by waters ;’’ at the side-altars are other paintings by the Franciscan monk Le- francois, who laid down his brush so far back as 1685. But towering high above all the rest, and commanding attention not only

Page 36

380 by their imposing appearance but by their deep suggestiveness, stand two pyramids of sticks and crutches, rising tier above tier, and containing hundreds of proofs that Ste. Anne’s intercession had availed for the happy ones who, by visiting her shrine, were enabled to cast aside these artificial and unnatural aids to locomotion. It is not my purpose to enter into any dis- cussion as to the credibility of miracles, whether wrought at Ste. Anne de Beaupré, or by one of the innumerable host of faith- healers that nowadays would fain persuade us to throw physic and physicians to the dogs. Neither do I feel called upon to ex- press my own opinion in the premises. I have sought to tell the story of Ste. Anne with such fullness and accuracy as might be attainable, and, having cited some of the most noted wonders that are claimed to have been done there, I would leave the whole matter to my readers, inviting them to form their own conclusions thereupon. In 1662, as Abbé Casgrain tells us, a young man named Nicholas Drouin, from the parish of Chateau Richer, who was tormented with a very grievous form of epilepsy, obtained complete and permanent relief, as the result of a meuvaine, or nine days’ mass, at Ste. Anne. Two years later, one Marguerite Bird, whose leg had been badly broken, on being carried: to the sacred spot, was there made whole and strong again. Elie Godin, brought almost to the grave with an incur- able dropsy, while receiving the eucharist felt his sickness depart from him, and sprang up shouting, ‘‘I am healed.’’ To Jean Adam was the precious privilege of sight restored after many years’ darkness. In 1841 Dame Geneviéve Boudrault, having long endured the horrors of epilepsy and convulsions, had herself borne to the shrine, and there, whilst praying before the main altar, the ineffable sensation of returning health stole sweetly upon her, and she went forth praising God for her deliverance. About two years ago, a lad of sixteen, named Fiset, from Springfield, Massachu- setts, came to Ste. Anne. For seven years his whole body had been covered with horri- ble sores, which defied all efforts to heal them. Moreover, his right leg was so dis- THE COSMOPOLITAN. torted that he could not move without crutches. Kneeling before the altar, he was permitted not only to kiss the saint’s relic, but to press it to his breast. Instantly an extraordinarily delicious tremor thrilled through his frame. A kind of ecstasy seized upon him, and in that supreme mo- ment his sores began to heal, his crooked limb straightened out, and he went away with joyful steps, leaving his crutches at the altar. A month later a young girl from Glen’s Falls, New York, received her sight whilst standing, in rapt adoration, before the statue of Ste. Anne, whither she had been led by sympathizing friends. The following incident I have upon the testimony of one of the most intelligent and well-informed French Canadians I have ever met, who witnessed it with his own eyes, and related it to me. Three years ago a well-to-do farmer, living about ten miles above Quebec, who had been dumb, but not deaf, from his birth, determined to try if Ste. Anne would vouchsafe him relief. Ac- cordingly, bare-footed, bare-headed, coatless, and fasting, he walked the entire distance to her shrine. Fainting, but full of faith, he wrote out his confession upon the slate he always carried, attended mass, received the communion, and then lay down to rest. Next morning he was one of the first at the communion service. The church was crowded with reverent worshipers. Sud- denly the service was broken in upon bya strange, half-articulate shout that startled every one. All eyes were turned toward the spot whence it came, and there, with countenance whose exultant brightness transcended all expression, stood the mute, a mute no longer, giving vent to his emo- tions in joyful ejaculations that filled the edifice. Thenceforward he spoke freely, and, with tears streaming down his cheeks, said to my informant : ‘‘ Ah, sir, won’t my boys be glad to hear my voice !’’ With these and a hundred like marvels to kindle and sustain their faith, one can readily conceive with what sincerity the myriad pilgrims, scorning the logic of unim- pressionable rationalism, chant their can- ticles in honor of their patron saint.

Page 37

THE HARD MONEY. By KATHARINE B. Foor. T was an evening in late September in a cottage by the sea-shore. The wind howled in weird and sudden blasts about the house and round the windows. The rain came in slaps and dashes against the panes, and over all other sounds came the regular boom and roar of the surf on the beach be- low the bluff. It was a cold storm, too, and the family and their visiters were glad to sit round the bright wood fire, which sent glancing gleams into all corners, and seemed playing hide and seek in the shadows. They had a pile of splinters from an oil-soaked log from an old whaler, andthe children amused themselves by throwing on one bit at a time into the hottest of the flames, watching with delight the beautiful colors that flashed into the flames, green and red, and the most exqui- site violet shades. One of the men said pres- ently, after long staring at the fire in silence: ‘‘T never sit in such real home comfort as this without thinking of the dreadful days and nights when I was a prisoner at the South. It seems so strange to me to know that I am alive when I think of it all.’’ ‘“Ah! tell us about it,’’ said all at once two or three of the younger ones. “IT can’t,’’ he said, shaking his head. ‘‘ It was too dreadful. You tell them your expe- rience, Will,’’ he said, turning to his brother. ‘‘ Not I, for I feel as youdo. But, children, get Aunt Velma to tell you the story of her hard money. You have never told it to them, have you, Velma?’’ he queried, turning toa pretty woman near him. ‘‘No,’’ she replied, ‘‘I never did, and it’s strange, too: and yet it isn’t so strange, either,’’ she said, in a musing tone; ‘‘ for all I suffered was so real to me that for years I couldn’t speak of it, and then, too, until this rage for war memories came up, no one want- ed to hear it.’’ ‘‘ Well, tell it now, Aunt Velma,’’ they all begged. She leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair, and with her hand partially over her forehead and eyes, looked into the fire and be- gan her story : ‘*T was a girl of seventeen in the fall of 1860. So far as I know, I had just two relatives older than I in all the world, an aunt with whom I lived in a town inthe Berkshire hills, andan uncle who lived with his three little mother- less children near Columbia, South Carolina. I was very fond of both my Aunt Lucy and my Uncle Robert, and I and the care of my money had been left tothem when my father —who was their brother—died. My mother had been dead two years then. : “Uncle Robert married a Southern girl when he was about forty years old ; he had long been practicing medicine in Columbia, and he settled down in the home, which was his wife’s property, just outside the city. When his wife died in 1859, he begged Aunt Lucy and me to go to live with him, as his wife had left no female relatives that could go to him and keep house and look after the chil- dren. But Aunt Lucy wouldn’t go. She loved herown home too well, and she hada great many violent prejudices against the Southern people and their ways. She said she saw trouble brewing, and preferred to stay where she was. During that last year of her life she talked to me a great deal about the slavery question, and explained to me much about the great questions of the day that I should have known nothing of, if it hadn’t been for her. ‘*In the fall of 1860she died and I was left all alone in the big old house that seemed sad and dreary enough. Uncle Robert came on and advised me to let the house for a year, and go home with him; and I was glad enough to do as he wanted me-to. My money had been left in trust to him and Aunt Lucy and to a lawyer in Boston, but the lawyer had all the care of my affairs, and Uncle Robert hardly appeared at all. ‘*Mr. Denny came to see me before I left, and he laughed very much when I told him I wanted five hundred dollars in twenty- dollar gold pieces to take with me, and when I told him I was going to wear it always in a belt round my waist, he laughed still more, and told me I was 4 goose, and that I'd better have bank-bills, and that it would

Page 38

382 be dreadfully heavy and a care to me, and he used a great many other arguments ; but I would have my own way. ‘“*T had made of leather a most remarkable belt, which buckled and which had twelve little bags hanging to it, and each bag held one or more gold pieces. It was rather heavy when I first put it on, but I soon got used to it and forgot it, except when I took it off or put it on, and I always wore it all day and kept it under my pillow at night. ‘* To this day I have never been able to de- cide why I was so determined to have that money in gold; for I had always had all the money I needed, and I had never had any bills that wouldn’t pass. So it must have ‘been a prophetic inspiration. ‘* Of our journey down to Uncle Robert’s I needn’t tell you anything. All was very new and strange to me, as I had never been south of New York before. I felt as if I had been suddenly set down in another world when we got to Columbia, for the weather was bright and warm, and flowers were in bloom. Only a few days before I had left our Berkshire garden where everything had long been withered, and cold dreary Novem- ber weather had come to us. “Uncle Robert was a practicing physician. He lived in a fine old house a little way out of the city, perhaps a mile and a half, and drove in every morning to his office in town and outevery night. The house, as I have said, was an old one, very large and ram- bling and a good one in its way, a real Southern homestead of the best class. Great galleries ran round three sides, and it seem- ed to me that doors opened outdoors every- where. There was asmall farm, pasture, and garden. The grounds sloped down to the river, and the quarters were near it and some distance from the house. The cotton planta- tion that belonged to the property was some miles further up country, and therethe most of the slaves lived ; so at Lawnview we had only house servants and a few farm hands. There were some horses and a few cows, and plenty of pigs and chickens and ducks. The house itself stood quite near the main road. ‘*T tell you all this that you may have in your mind a picture of the place and of all that happened there. ‘* Before I got to Columbia, Uncle Robert gave me a most solemn and emphatic warn- ing to be very careful of what I said about THE COSMOPOLITAN. politics ; in fact, he told me never to mention them at all, and explained to me that he feared trouble, and that he, as a Northern man, was looked upon with some suspicion, and that, as all his property was there, he could not be too careful. ‘*Well ! the war came, almost like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky, even to people in South Carolina, where every one was sup- posed to be eager for it. I shall never forget Uncle Robert’s face when he came home and told me that Sumter had been fired on. He sat so quietly in his chair, and looked so sad and solemn when he said : ** “Yes ; it’s been fired on, and I must stay here and see it out.’ ‘‘ At first we talked a little together about my going North; but the only home I could have gone to was the old house in Berkshire, and that was let, as I said before, and even if it hadn’t been, I couldn’t have lived there all alone; for Uncle Robert wouldn’t have sent his children, and sotime passed while I was undecided, and I didn't go. But the time soon came when I couldn't go at all, or only with great difficulty, and I was needed where Iwas. So I stayed. ‘*Uncle Robert was really at heart a Union man, but he was placed in the same position in which many other men of Northern birth who were settled in the South found them- selves. He loved his friends and his family ; his property and all his interests were there and couldn’t be moved. What could he do but stand by them ? ‘* At first I was an object of suspicion to my neighbors, and what I bore from the women about me no tongue can ever tell. But for Uncle Robert’s sake I held my tongue ; that is, partially for his sake, and for the rest because I was of a peaceable disposition. I saw no use in a war of words, and soon my neighbors looked upon me as one of their own people. ‘‘Then, too, many of these women didn’t know what they were talking about. They were, it is true, educated in their way, but were quite unfamiliar with the great ques- tions of the day. They read no newspapers except their own little provincial sheet, and hardly that, and the result was—well, just what might have been expected—a lot of women who in daily speech breathed fire and smoke; who would, had they found the chance, have made faces at Union soldiers ;

Page 39

THE HARD MONEY. who would have walked a mile around rather than pass under a Union flag ; and who said they would shoot a wounded man on the battle-field. But when the time came, they were far different ; they worked night and day to care for wounded men on either side. Sometimes they sheltered prisoners. They bore with bravery and courage the downfall of their homes and the death of their friends, and acted out their real characters, impetu- ous, warm-hearted, and partisan to the last degree. ‘* At first the war didn’t make much differ- ence, except that our young men all went away, and then Uncle Robert had to go. He came home one day and called me into a room alone, and he shut all the windows and doors. I shall never forget his face. ‘«* Velma,’ he said, ‘there is no help for it. I have only a minuteto tell you. They threatened me to-day if I didn’t enlist, and I’ve enlisted.’ ‘** Uncle Robert !’ was all I could say. ‘“‘ He held up his hand. “**T had to; don’t cry out. I have been made an officer, but they will be glad to make me only a surgeon before long. I shall be a blundering soldier.. Only one word more. Don’t,trust the darkies, except Patty and Joe. Do the best you can, and whatever comes, stay here ; remember that. I’ll come home when I can.’ ‘‘He was gone in fifteen minutes. We didn’t see him again for months, and then he came home for a week, so brown, so thin, so changed, and so glad to see us all. ‘‘The next time he was gone nearly a year, and he looked worse than before when he came—ragged and dirty. Uncle Robert, whose clothes had always been spotless ! ‘He said very little about his experience, except once, when he had been sitting a long time looking straight before him at nothing at all. Then he said suddenly : ‘** In our last battle we drove the Federals out of their camps early one morning, and they had to leave everything, and I went into an officer’s tent. To get in I had to step acrossa body. I looked, and saw that it was Fred Mitchell. He was my chum at home in Hilltops. We used to be in every scrape together. I saw him when I went up for you, Velma, and we laughed over one Fourth of July then. And to meet him so!’ ‘* He sat still a long time, and then he said : 383 ‘** Tt is dreadful, dreadful !’ ‘* Before he came again we began to be very much pinched for almost everything. A few blockade runners did get through, but almost all they brought was gobbled up in the sea-ports, and we had little chance. Everything was sold at enormous prices, and money was almost impossible to get, even for people who supposed they had plenty. It was then that I first began to use my hard money. ‘*Up to 1864 none of our hands had run away, but then two or three field hands were missing one morning, and after that one by one they disappeared. Parts of the Confederate Army had been several times near us, and our cattle and horses had all been taken, except one poor horse that was old and lame and of no use to them, and so they left him. “* After a while only four servants were left on the place—Joe and Patty, who were old, and Ned and Jane, who were young. Patty had been the nurse of Uncle Robert's wife, and she had always taken care of the three children, Angie, who was ten, Elinor, who was eight, and a boy of five, whom we called Bob. Joe was asort of gardener, Jane was a housemaid, and Ned had been the coach- man when we had horses, and when they went he was of no use at all ; for he didn’t know how to do any other work, and wouldn’t try to. One cook had disappeared, and so Patty and I tried to do her work, and it was hard enough. I was always afraid of Ned and Jane. They were very light mulat- toes, and old Patty expressed my feelings ex- actly one day when a large piece of bacon disappeared most mysteriously, and no one knew anything about it : ‘**Dose pale niggers is no ’count, Miss Velma, dey’s nex do’ to po’ white trash.’ ‘‘Well, I began to spend my money ; one day I took out a gold piece, and I got ready to go into town. It was in the spring of ’64, and we needed everything—shoes, clothes, food, and medicine, particularly quinine, which was fearfully expensive and very hard to get. But there was a great deal of malarial fever among us that dread- ful year, and quinine was the only thing for it. ‘‘Ned drove me into town, if such a halting progress as we made can be called driving, and I took Angie and Elinor. I went first

Page 40

384 to a drug-store, and when I offered my gold piece to pay for it, the man, who had once studied with Uncle Robert, took it quickly and hid it in the palm of his hand. He then leaned over the counter and whispered : ‘** Miss Velma, if you’ve any hard money, you must be careful. I believe any of the niggers would murder you for it.’ ‘I shall never forget how I felt. A cold shiver shook me from head to foot, and I gave a quick glance around. I saw what turned me cold: Ned’s face looking in at the door, and with such a look onit! He had seen my money. Mr. Simpson—that was the clerk—saw him too, and he said out loud : ‘“* Miss Velma, this old medal of the doc- tor’s isn’t good for money ; I can’t pass it. Haven't you gotany bills?’ ‘** Oh, yes,’ I said, stammering and open- ing my purse; but I had nothing there. ‘*** Give me that piece of paper quick,’ he whispered, and I handed him a memoran- dum. ‘** Ah! yes, the doctor’s check,’ he said aloud ; ‘certainly, Miss Velma;’ and he went to his safe and counted out a handful of bills, which he brought to me. ‘‘A quick glance showed us Ned still lounging in the doorway. ‘***Ts the medal really worth nothing?’ I asked. ‘** Well, about a Yankee dollar ; no more,’ he said. ‘‘T appeared to think a minute. Indeed, I really was thinking very hard what to say. I wanted to put Ned off the track, to give him the idea that I had no money, and I didn’t see my way out at all. The clerk helped me out unexpectedly. *“*T'll give you a dollar for the medal, Miss Velma, if you choose,’ he said, look- ing down at his hand; ‘or if the doctor values it, you had better take it back.’ ‘*T had a happy thought : ‘** Wouldn’t you put it in your safe, please ? —and I'll bring you the others to-morrow. Uncle Robert does value those old medals, and I am sure they are worth a good deal up North, and the next stragglers may take them.’ ‘** With pleasure, Miss Velma,’ he said ; ‘it’s a very safe precaution.’ ‘‘T had luckily remembered an old case of medals in one of Uncle Robert’s drawers in THE COSMOPOLITAN. his desk, and only hoped and prayed that Ned might be deceived into supposing that I had been trying to spend one of those. But he was a ’cute darky, and I didn’t feel at all easy about it. ‘*T should have been afraid to go back with him if I hadn’t had the children, and the road so well traveled a one. As soon as we got back, I flew into the house and into Uncle Robert’s study and found the case of medals: and I took one out and hid it, and then I put the case under the lid of his desk, and pur- posely left my key hanging in the lock when I went to bed. It was not unusual for me to do that, for I never could remember that I must turn a key on all things portable, if I wanted to keep them. ‘* That evening we had an unexpected arri- val. After tea I was sitting out on the gallery with the children, when about the most forlorn old carriage I ever saw, drawn by a worn-out old mule, stopped at our gate. A very small colored boy, barefooted and in a very ragged suit of clothes, and a scare- crow of a palmetto hat, tumbled off the front seat, and holding tight on to his reins, as if he anticipated immediate flight on the part of his racer, tugged at the carriage door, out of which looked a little pale face that I didn’t know. At first glance I wasn't sure whether the face belonged to an old child or to an old woman, but I soon found out. ‘““*Are you Miss Velma Harrison!’ a feeble, highly-pitched voice inquired, and be- fore I could answer, added, ‘Is this Dr. Robert Harrison’s house, that married my niece, Angie Lewis?’ ‘** Yes,’ said. ‘Are you Angie’s aunt?’ ‘** Ves, Iam; her aunt from Savannah, and our relatives there thought I’d better come up here where the Yankees couldn’t come. I knew I was free of Angie’s house, and Dr. Robert sent a letter to you.’ ‘‘ By this time she had with my help dis- interred herself from the carriage, and the children and I and old Joe, who just then appeared, got her and her various belong- ings into the house. ‘I can give you no idea of the state of my feelings when I found that old Miss Rhett had come to stay. She was a feeble little creature, about sixty years old and helpless ; as nearly as I knew, penniless; and as I knew her afterward to be, suspicious and

Page 41

THE HARD MONEY. ANGIE’S AUNT. jealous, and as rabid a hater of the North as l ever saw in the shape of a woman. “Even then I felt appalled. I already had three children to care for, but they were tolerably obedient, and I saw this old lady was going to be more than I could manage. I was afraid of Ned and Jane,—and Joe and Patty, although kind, and good, and faithful, were old and scarcely to be leaned upon. It was upon me that the care of all had to come. ‘‘T made old Miss Rhett as comfortable as I could, as Uncle Robert’s note asked me to do. Icould see by its whole tone that he had been compelled to put this added trial upon me, and he gave me all the warning he could when he said : ‘** Miss Rhett is a Southern woman, every inch of her. You are loyal to the good cause, and will help her all you can.’ ‘He didn’t say what cause, and she never dreamed what he meant. 30 ‘*When we went to bed that night, the old lady was in a great state of mind when she found that we had no servant in the house, either man or woman. Patty had once slept in the house, but old Joe had various ail- ments, and she had begged a long time be- fore to sleep in her own cabin to look after him, and I felt much safer with Ned and Jane out of the house than in it. ‘*But Miss Rhett would have her own little darky sleep somewhere in the house. So I gave him some old rugs, and he curled up in a corner in the hall, and was fast asleep in two minutes. ‘‘In the excitement of the arrival I had really forgotten my keys, and I went to bed and went sound to sleep. Two of the chil- dren slept in a room just off mine, and one oftheminmy room. In the very dead of the night we were all waked up by a succession of the most ear-splitting yells from down-

Page 42

386 stairs. I jumped out of bed and ran fora light, upset all the matches in my hurry, and couldn’t find one on the floor for what seemed ten minutes. It was about ten seconds I suppose, and by the time I had lighted the match and found the candle and lighted that, all the children were scream- ing, and old Miss Rhett with the funniest nightcap on—I saw even then how funny it all was, a great bobbing ruffle over her thin little face—was shrieking : ‘**Oh! what is it! Is it Yankees? thieves? Oh, I wish I hadn’t come.’ ‘*The yells had stopped, and I heard only a piteous, frightened moaning. ‘‘ With all the children hanging on to me and Miss Rhett following behind, I finally got to the head of the stairs. I held my light out at arm’s length, and tried to peer down into the darkness. Presently I saw a pair of rolling eyeballs, and then after a second, two feet kicking in the air. ‘**Oh, Missy ! oh, Missy! I’se witched ! I'se witched !’ came in a feeble, husky voice. ‘*I shook myself free of the children and ran down-stairs. Such a comical sight I never saw before nor since. There lay Nim, the little darky, only his head and feet visible, the rest of him huddled in a heap under the rags, his wool full of flour and dabs of it all over his face, and his rolling eyes and expression of abject terror—it was irresistibly funny. ‘** What on earth is the matter, Nim?’ I said. ‘What do you mean by yelling so?’ ‘**Oh, Missy,’ he moaned, ‘I dunno. I was a sleepin’, an’ the fust t’ing I know, I yeard a big noise, an’ I hollered, an’ den whoop! In my moufde witches frow dus’. An’ he voice say, ‘‘ You’se witched, you is,”’ an’ den I hollers agin’.’ ‘** Witches !’ I said ; ‘nonsense. If there were witches about, they wouldn’t leave doors open. Here’s the back door wide open.’ ‘* Well, the upshot of it all was that some- body,—and I felt pretty sure who it was,—had stolen the medals. It was, of course, either Ned or Jane, for no stranger would have known either of the medals being in my pos- session, or where they were kept, or have known that little Nim was in the house, and have provided themselves with flour to throw at him, and scare him to death with the favorite bug a boo of the negroes,—witches. Is it THE COSMOPOLITAN. ‘‘The summer came and went, and times grew harder and harder with us. Being just outside the town and with no man to protect us, we were a prey to all stragglers, and these began to be many. Constant detach- ments of the Confederate Army passed by us, and they stole all they could lay their hands on that was eatable, and no one could blame them, for they were nearly starved to death. ‘‘T spent my money very cautiously and very carefully. I never went into Columbia except with some of the neighbors. The nearest ones were a quarter of a mile off. I waited until Isawthem going past, and then asked to join them. I had a good excuse; for our old horse had died, and I had no way of riding into town any longer. ‘*Mr. Simpson was a very good friend. He took my money and gave me bills—Confede- rate bills—for my gold, so that he was the only person that really knew I had hard money. SoIbecame more and more afraid of Ned and Jane. I believe I have forgot- ten to tell you that they were married. I felt sure that they were getting ready to run away, and did not mean to go until they could get some money to help them on in the world. They knew I had money some- where, for I spent it and they knew it, and after a while I felt that I was being closely watched. ‘* Patty, too, warned me. One day I went out to see poor old Joe, who was all doubled with rheumatism, and Patty, with mysterious beckonings, called me inside the cabin. ‘**Miss Velma,’ she whispered, ‘has you got any hard money, chile?’ ‘** Ves,’ I said, ‘I have, Aunt Patty.’ ‘«*Dat’s jus’ what I s’pected. Now you be mighty keerful. Don’ you trus’ nobody.’ ‘«* Why?’ I said, and I was really fright- ened. ‘ What is the matter, Aunt Patty?’ ‘** Miss Velma,’ she said, putting her hand on my neck and bending my head so that she could whisper in my ear, ‘I heerd dem low down niggers whisperin’ an’ whisperin’ t’oder night out in de kitchen. Dey tought I was abed an’ sleep long afore ; but de ole man had de gripes, an’ I was goin’ up sof’ like for some mus’ard, w’en I hears um talk- in’, and Ned he say, ‘‘ Well, it aint goin’ to mek no diffunce wedder dat money’s 4 buckled roun’ her or not, I’se a goin to get it,’ an Jane she ‘lowed she’d help. Now, honey, don’ you wear dat belt no mo’.’

Page 43

THE HARD MONEY. **A cold chill ran all over me from head to foot. ‘** What shall I do?’ I said. ‘Jane must have watched me some time when I was dressing.’ ““*T dunno, chile,’ she said ; ‘ you might bery ’um whar you put the silver pots.’ «Then I couldn’t spend it, Aunt Patty.’ ‘“*Dat’s so. Well, I dunno, Miss Velma, on’ don’ you wear dat belt no mo’.’ ‘‘She laid her hand on my arm with an entreating gesture, and looked up at me with her honest old eyes full of earnestness. ‘‘Long before that, Joe and Patty and I had buried all the family silver under Aunt Patty’s cabin, by taking upa board in the floor. Wedid it one day when I had sent Ned and Jane to town on purpose to get rid 387 of them. But that was before they had be- gun to watch me. I never managed to get them both at once off the place after that. They always had some excusethat kept them from going, and I was too much afraid of them to insist. They had missed the silver at once when they got home that day, but I was sure they never knew what became of it. ‘‘That very afternoon we had aterrific rain storm, and I was caught out in it some dis- tance up the road where I was coming home from our nearest neighbors, and. was wet through. As soon as I got in, I went to change my clothes, and I very hastily pulled off my wet things and threw them on the floor. I wore my belt just under my dress skirt, and when I took it up to put it on again HIDING THE MONEY IN THE ASHES.

Page 44

388 a sudden impulse came upon me to take out all the money. There were only about eight pieces left, and I held them in my hand and wondered what I should do with them, when my eyes fell on a queer old metal snuff-box that I kept on my dressing-table for a hair- pin box. I put the gold in it and shut it to- gether. It had a curious snapping clasp, and I dropped it into my pocket. ‘The belt I left on the floor for a minute, lying on the heap of wet clothes, while I went into another room fora clean collar. When I came back, J noticed instantly that wet tracks reached from the gallery window to my clothes, and the belt lay deside and not om them, where I had droppedit. I ran like a flash to the window, but could see no one ; but I knew it was Jane who had been there, for it couldn’t have been any one else. ‘*T felt quite sure that she had been watch- ing me; but not fora long enough time to have seen me empty the belt and put the gold in the snuff-box, or she wouldn’t have touched the belt. So I really felt a little safer than I had before. I even gave the belt to the children to play with, that Ned and Jane might both see it. ‘*But what to do with the money I didn’t know. I couldn’t keep it in my pocket, it was too heavy, and I couldn’t think of a safe hiding place, and for several days that money made me perfectly wretched. I was so afraid of Ned and Jane that I no longer dared to sleep in my own room with the children, and so, under pretense of finding my room damp from a leak in the roof, I moved all our beds into Miss Rhett’s large room, and there, with all the doors locked, I felt a little safer. ‘** About this time,’ as the old farmers’ almanac used to say, we were overrun with stragglers from the Southern Army, and idle negroes. Refugees were pouring into Columbia as being the last final stronghold that the Yankees could not penetrate. Even the very necessaries of life could only be ob- tained in small quantities and for immense prices. Prisoners from Charleston were moved to a wretched place near the city, which I af _.ward knew they called Camp Sorghum, and they had for shelter only holes they dug in the earth. How my blood boiled when I knew it; yet I could not speak of it to a soul, and the care of the money I had left—and all we had to depend THE COSMOPOLITAN. upon—weighed heavily in my pocket and was a never-ending worry. ‘**One day I was in Aunt Patty’s cabin when little Nim rushed in, calling, ‘ Lot o’ dem soger mens coming,’ and rushed away again. ‘I involuntarily clapped my hand over my pocket and said : ‘“**Oh! what shall I do?’ For a few days before, some stragglers had searched every nook and corner in a neighbor’s house, and had even made her empty her pockets. ‘**Ts your money dere, Miss Velma?’ said Patty. ‘Gib it to me, quick !’ ‘*T handed it to her in sheer despair. Quick as thought she raked a hole in the great pile of ashes in her fireplace, dropped the box in it, raked them back, threw on some light-wood, and just as it blazed up and in one second more two villainous-looking men walked in. They were rough and insolent, but they found nothing and soon went off. I could trust Aunt Patty perfectly ; so I left my money there in the ashes, and went off with a lighter heart, because I had a lighter pocket, which isn’t often the case. ‘‘That night I heard for the first time in my life the awful bay of a bloodhound in pursuit of a man. I didn’t know at first what it was ; but Miss Rhett did, and scream- ed : ‘** Oh, dogs ! they’re after somebody.’ “Tt was an awful sound; but it went on by usup theroad. Afterthat, we heard them several times, and we knew that they were on the track of some poor prisoner. ‘* One day, about a week after, Aunt Patty came upstairs to the room where we were all sitting, about an hour after dark. Assoon as I looked at her I knew that something dread- ful was the matter. She had the peculiar look that comes over the dark skin in times of terror or distress. It’s a dreadful look, more than extreme pallor in white skins. ‘** My ole man,’ she said in a half whisper ; ‘he’s took drefful bad !’ ‘‘*What is it?’ I said. Patty? I'll come right off.’ ‘*** Has you got some spirits, Miss Velma? He’s drefful bad.’ ‘* I did have one precious bottle of brandy, and I took it and threw a shawl over my shoulders. It was in January, and I ran with Patty beside me as fast as I could down ‘Cramps, Aunt

Page 45

THE HARD MONEY. “MY GOD, SAM, to the quarters. Half-way down, Patty put her hand out. We were ina clear space with no trees near us, and could see that we were alone by the light that came from my win- dows. ‘** Miss Velma,’ she whispered in my ear, ‘my ole man’s all right; it’s a poor man from yonder,’ she said, pointing over her shoulder to the grounds of the Insane Asy- lum, where the Union prisoners had been lately moved. ‘““*T wuz sittin’ by the fire, an’ I heerd a tap, tap on de do’, an’ w’en I opens it still, I sees him down on de groun’; an’ he say: “For God’s sake take me in, an’ hide me. I’sea prisoner got away. I’m just out de ribber and de dogs has los’ de scent.’’ An’ den he craw] in all drippin’, an’ he fell down on de flo’ dead like.’ Is THAT you?” ‘* Here was a complication—a Union pris- oner that the dogs were after, and Miss Rhett in the house, and the children, and Ned and Jane, who couldn’t betrusted. All this went through me like a flash, but I ran on. ‘‘ When I got to the cabin, I found that Joe had got him on to their bed and was rubbing his hands and feet. He was either dead or in a dead faint ; at first I couldn’t tell which ; but after a few moments he opened his eyes. I put a little brandy between his lips, and he revived a little, and presently he spoke feebly, and I could just make out that he said, ‘I’m starving.’ We hadn’t much to give him, and so, in place of the good beef tea he ought to have had, we gave him some egg- nog, which Joe could make to perfection. ‘*Then, as he dropped asleep again, still in his wet clothes, we deliberated what to do

Page 46

390 and how to do it. We couldn’t leave him where he was. Finally we got him up off the bed and pushed and pulled him up the ladder to a loft above, where they made him up a sort of bed on the floor. ‘‘Then Patty and I went back to the house, and I got a suit of Uncle Robert’s, and some underclothes and a couple of blankets, and we carried them down. It was such hard work not to let Miss Rhett know what we were doing ; but I told her several awful lies, and among other things, that Patty’s bed- clothes had all been stolen by the last strag- glers, and that Joe had just had a bad attack of cramps. The clothes had to be kept utterly out of sight, and fortunately for me, I was able to manage it. Between them the two good old creatures got the poor man into dry clothes, and I looked through his pockets to see if he had any valuables, and found nothing at all. All we knew, then, was that he wore a captain’s uniform, and we care- fully hid away that night every trace of his presence. Joe was told that he must go to bed, and stay there during every minute of daylight to arrest suspicion, and then, with Aunt Patty for escort, I crept home as softly as possible in the dense darkness. I shivered and shook with excitement and terror when I found myself safein my room. To have the man discovered on our premises would mean all sorts of miseries, and not to keep him was impossible. ‘* The next day, as soon after breakfast as I dared to go, I went down to the cabin. Patty carefully fastened the door after me, and I climbed up the ladder. I knew something of illness, and I came to the conclusion that the prisoner, whom I thought looked like a gentleman, had malarial fever in the worst form, and was nearly starved to death be- sides. He was very slightly delirious, and needed medicine at once, quinine especially, and good food. Aunt Patty looked at me when I came down the ladder. ‘**Shall I rake out de box, honey ?’ ‘** Ves,’ I said, and she raked it out, chuck- ling, ‘dat’s a mighty safe bank.’ ‘IT couldn’t help laughing, miserable and anxious as I was, for the old bank of ashes was worth more to me just then than all the money I had in the banks at the North. I took one gold piece, and went over to our nearest neighbors, and they took me into town, and violent South Carolina Confeder- THE* COSMOPOLITAN. ates that they were, they, without meaning to do so, helped to give aid and comfort to the poor prisoner, and even then I enjoyed the joke. ‘* While in town we heard the news of the occupation of Savannah, and I wanted to scream for joy ; but I couldn’t, and felt as if I was suffocating because I couldn’t. But when I got home again, I told Aunt Patty and Joe, who rejoiced, and my soldier, who only half-understood, but who looked pleased and repeated over and over, ‘ They’ve got Savannah.’ ‘* Thad to be very careful about going to see the poor man, for the others watched me all the time. Luckily, I had long been in the habit of going often to Patty’s cabin, and as Joe was really sick, he did so much groan- ing for himself that the occasional added moans of my soldier didn’t attract attention. ‘* One day, when I had to get some money from Aunt Patty, and she had just raked out the box from the ashes, I was sure I heard a strange sound at the door and I suddenly opened it. I stood close behind it and Ned fell headforemost into the room. Aunt Patty and I both screamed, and Joe yelled from his bed—we were all so startled—and Ned picked himself up and muttered some- thing about coming to look for Miss Velma and ‘trippin’ on de do’ sill.’ Nothing could be said, except to tell him he was very careless, and to let him go, saying that I would go at once tothe house. _I knew he had seen Patty rake open the bed of ashes; for she had turned, poker in hand, when he fell in, and the tell-tale hole in the bank was there, and what to do with my money I couldn’t imagine. But I put the box again into my pocket. ‘That night, after long thought, I put it under a plaster image of an infant Samuel, a hideous thing that had stood for years ona pedestal in the corner of the upper hall. I had to put the box up inside the figure, which fortunately was hollow, and there I kept it for several days. One day one of the children, just for sheer mischief, took a soft black pencil from among the remnants of my sketching materials, and blacked the eyebrows of the image, and gave him pupils to his eyeballs, and the result, as I came upon it without warning in the early twi- light, was a start, for his expression was anything except pious and devotional, and

Page 47

THE HARD MONEY. looked to me really malicious and miserly; yet Icouldn’t help laughing, worried as I was. ‘“ Every day we heard that the Yankees that I so hoped for, and the Yankees that every one else so dreaded, were drawing nearer and nearer. Such a thing as the actual invasion of Columbia by the Yankees had never been supposed to be a possible thing ; but it began to look extremely prob- able. The captain—for he told me he was a captain, and he told me his name, too, which is of no consequence now—grew better slowly, and he developed an appetite that would have been hard to satisfy even in the old days of plenty ; but in our poverty and with the danger of discovery, it was out of the question to get him all he wanted to eat. No inquiry had been made for him that I even knew of. Prisoners had escaped from the camp from time to time, and some had been recaptured and some had been found dead. He was very anxious to let his family know that he was alive; he told me of the girl he hoped one day to marry, and together we wondered if any plan could be devised by which I could get a letter through the lines that would tell his family the news and wouldn’t tell the rebel authorities. ‘It had then been a long time since I had tried to get a letter through to my friends in Berkshire. I had to be so guarded, and could only send four lines, and even by stretching the lines from the upper left-hand to the lower right-hand corner of a sheet of foolscap I couldn’t get much in, and I could only tell them, without the risk of having the letter stopped, that I was alive. But I com- forted the captain with the hope that the Union troops would soon come, and we waited for the end with what patience we could, and the store of hard money in the recess of the infant Samuel grew less and less. ‘“ At last came a day, the 16th of Febru- ary, 1865, when we knew the Union army was near. My soldier was just able to sit up; he could walk a few steps, but only with help, and I went to tell him on that evening that the soldiers were surely com- ing soon. He wasa man; but he had been dreadfully ill, he had gone through awful suffering, had been hunted with dogs, and hidden like a criminal, and deliverance was near at hand, and hecried like a baby when I told him. 391 ‘‘T did not sleep at all that night. We could see the watch-fires on the crest of the hill across the river, and all night long there was constant firing from the rebel side. In the morning, soon after daylight, the shells began to scream over us fired by the Union men. It was an awful sound, and we were all terrified, and Miss Rhett and the children were nearly frantic. Ned and Jane cowered with terror one minute, and the next walked about with an insolence of manner fully displayed for the first time. ‘* About nine o’clock little Nim rushed in followed by a little darky from the next house. ‘** Oh ! missy,’ he screamed, ‘de marse Yankees is done come, an’ dey’s smashin’ all de t’ings up yonder.’ ‘Then came one of our own little girls, screaming : ‘** Cousin Velma, here is Mrs. Prentiss running up the road with the baby in her arms.’ ‘‘In a second more the poor terrified woman stood in the doorway. I begged her to go upstairs and stay with Miss Rhett, and I went up too, not to stay, but to get my money. Mrs. Prentiss said : ‘““*Qh! those dreadful men; they’re Sherman’s bummers at last. They’re smash- ing everything in the house, just from pure malice, and they would have killed me, I believe, but Iran. And the children! oh! the children.’ And she wrung her hands. ‘ Where are the children ?’ ‘*T left her with Miss Rhett and ran for my money. In my haste I turned over the image, and it was smashed into a thousand pieces. The frightened women thought the soldiers had come, and both screamed and the children too ; butI paid no attention to them. I flew downstairs again, intent on saving my money and one or two valuable rings I had. I pulled them off and shut them in the box and threw it in the fire, which was low, and raked the ashes over it. ‘* Just as I did it, I looked round and saw Ned peering in at the window, and soldiers coming in at the front gate. Ned ran to- ward them, and I knew well enough that it was to tell them where my money was. Hard money was as great a boon to the soldiers as to us, and the negroes all through the South tried to ingratiate themselves with the Union soldiers, whenever they occupied a town, by

Page 48

392 telling them—if they knew—where the fam- ily treasures had been hidden, hoping, usually in vain, to share the spoil. I dragged out the box, looked round in despair, and had a brilliant thought. ‘One day, long before, I was sitting in Uncle Robert’s big leather arm-chair, and I idly slipped my hand down between the seat and the back and felt something. I pulled it out and it proved to be a paper-cut- ter that had disappeared. I had thought then how well it had been hidden. I snatched all the money except one piece out of the box, and my rings, and pushed them down in the chair, which happened to stand right behind me, threw the box back in the ashes and was just sweeping them up over it when Ned and two soldiers came in, Ned saying : ‘** Do’n, I tell you, Marse Yankees? See de young Miss brush ’em dere now.’ ‘‘IT threw myself in the chair as if ex- hausted with fright, and sat there while they raked out my box and got it open. They all looked astonished and disgusted when they found but one gold piece, and the men turned furiously upon Ned, saying : ‘** Here, you nig, you told us there was lots o’ gold here, and here’s one piece!’ ‘*Ned looked astonished and frightened. I sat still and looked at them. ‘** Well, you’re a cool one!’ one of the men said, staring at me. *“*T’m a Northern woman and a Union woman,’ I said. ‘Ididn’t expect that when the Union troops came I should be robbed ; even starving rebels were content with food.’ ‘* They all laughed insultingly. ‘** That’s a bully good chair you're sit- ting in,’ said one. ‘Come, dust out of it. We'll take this for Uncle Billy’s house, boys. We'll have your doors and windows too; they’ll come handy.’ ‘“** T won’t stir,’ Isaid, and I was perfectly determined not to. ‘ This is my chair, and one of the few comfortable and decent pieces of furniture we have left, and you sha’n’t haveit.’ ‘*T don’t know how I ever had pluck enough to sit there and answer those men, except that I was desperate ; I couldn’t lose my money. ‘** All right,’ said one, ‘catch a hold, Jim, an’ we'll take the chair an’ the gal too.’ ‘*IT knew I gave one terrified shriek, but THE COSMOPOLITAN. I held on fast to the chair, and never budged an inch. The men lifted it off the floor, and I felt myself slipping, slipping, when a voice behind cried, ‘Stop!’ and in sheer amazement, the men did stop. I looked round and saw my soldier, thin and white. and shaking with excitement and weakness. I made one jump toward him, and helped him to the chair, with Patty’s help. She had helped him to the house all alone. He fell down into it and said: ‘**T am an escaped prisoner, and this young lady kept me and saved my life.’ ‘The men were just saying something, I never knew what, when an officer appeared at the door. He stopped short and then made a jump. ‘* “My God, Sam, is that you?’ ‘‘ And he and my preserver hugged each other and laughed and cried all at once. Then, without stopping to explain, the offi- cer ran to the door and shouted, and pres- ently several more men, who jumped off their horses at the gate, came tearing in, and they all shook hands and acted like mad men over my captain. I stood over in acorner, and the darkies and soldiers stood about and looked on as I did. ‘* Presently my captain said, ‘ Wait, friends,’ and he tried to get up, but was too weak. ‘Miss Velma, will you come here, please?’ And he took my hand and said something about my having saved him from a dreadful death, and I felt very red in the face and ready to cry, when another officer came to the door and I heard some one call, ‘ Velma, is that you?’ andI had hardly time to look up when I found myself in the arms of my good, kind old friend, Mr. Denny, only he was Colonel Denny then. Then he turned and exclaimed, ‘Sam!’ as the other officer had, and hugged my prisoner, who turned out to be Mr. Denny’s nephew, and the other officer was my captain’s brother. Such a time of rejoicing as it was! They had heard of the prisoner’s escape, and feared that all sorts of dreadful things had happened to him. After we had quieted down a little and the men had all been sent away, I got my gold pieces back. First, though, we heard a few explanations all round. ‘* * Tt’s very strange,’ said Colonel Denny, ‘that you didn’t know that Sam Monroe was my nephew.’

Page 49

THE CYCLONE. 303 ““* How should I know?’ I said. ‘ He didn’t have your name, and he didn’t men- tion vours.’ “* Ah. true!’ said the colonel. ‘I knew it so well myself, you see. And it’s strange that Fred here didn’t know that I was hur- rying to the front as fast as I could just to find this house, and put a guard round it, for I have been here before with your Uncle Robert.’ ‘** But how should I know that, pray? You never mentioned any names. You said, ‘‘the house of an old friend of mine,’’ and that was all.’ ‘** Well, of course, you know,’ said the colonel with delightful inconsistency, ‘I couldn’t be guilty of mentioning a lady’s name in a promiscuous sort of way.’ ‘We all laughed heartily. But the colo- nel had his turn of laughing, although his eyes were dim, too, when he heard the story of my hard money and how my obstinacy in taking it South with me had saved several lives. To get what was left of it out of the chair was ‘ no fool of a job,’ as my captain’s brother said, and the only reason that I did not always regret that I hadn’t thought of such a good place before was, that I couldn’t have got it out when I wanted to spend it. ‘* When Colonel Denny had to go on with his regiment, he left my captain’s brother with two soldiers to take care of us, and as soon as Captain Monroe was able he went to Savannah and was sent North to his friends. ‘After the war was over and Uncle Robert had come back again, we all came North, and here we have been ever since. Much to my relief, Nedand Jane disappeared with the army when they left Columbia, and were never heard of again, and Miss Rhett went back to her home and her friends, and the prisoner married the girl that had near- ly mourned herself to death when she be- lieved him to be dead, and——’’ ‘*T can tell you the rest,’’ said a pretty girl of seventeen, ‘‘and you, Mamma Velma, married the prisoner’s brother, and here he is now,’’ and she slipped her hand into her father’s. ‘‘ But to have had a proper ending for a story, you ought to have married the prisoner.”’ ‘*T had a word to say about that,’’ said a merry voice from the other side of the fire. ‘* Ah !’’ said her mother, ‘‘ then we didn’t realize that we were a story ; but even if we had, I think it would have ended as it has.”’ And after amoment she added: ‘‘ And noth- ing about it all seems stranger or harder to believe than that we who came of that gener- ation, who are even now not old, and who once hated each other so cordially have now buried it all. There has been nothing like it before in all history, and I hope there never will be again.’’ And presently the fire died down to pale ashes and the sounds of the wind and rain ceased and a pale and watery moon looked in at the windows and saw an empty room. THE CYCLONE. By WILLIAM H. HAYNE. A BLACK cloud edged with saffron flame Above the hushed horizon came. A sword of lightning cut the cloud, Then burst the thunder’s triumph loud, And mad wind-forces thus set free Reveled in ruin o’er land and sea. Se ee ad

Page 50

THE DOMESTIC MONEY QUESTION. By GaIL HAMILTON. HERE are many women, sensible, large- hearted, happily married ; devoted, and, on the whole, contented wives and mothers, who are yet not in entirely easy relations with the husband regarding money. It is not a question of more or less money to spend ; it is that the manner and mofive of supply and expenditure have never been smoothly adjusted, and, therefore, never sat- isfactorily settled. It is not necessary that the husband be churlish and grudging, or the wife selfish and extravagant, to make the chariot-wheels drive heavily. Niggardliness, prodigality, greed of gain, love of frivolity are matters of individual, if total, depravity ; and while they affect, they do not constitute the do- mestic problem. A man devoted and gener- ous may cause, a wife thrifty and clever may feel, the unpleasant consciousness of ask- ing for money. Her cheek tingles in soli- tude over the reflection that she seems to be in a position of inferiority and not of primacy ; a position of one receiving and not of one owning ; the position—she feels in ex- treme moments—of a pauper and not of a proprietor. She hesitates about gifts, char- ities, ornaments, prettinesses, indulgences, even conveniences, where she would not hesitate a moment with the same amount of money if she had earned or heiredit. Many and many a happy wife has said, and many another has doubtless thought, that the pos- session in her own right, at marriage, of never so small a sum would have been a boon quite apart from its market value. Many a mother has evolved from experience the reso- lution that Aer daughters shall go to their husbands with a certain fund which they can command, as the lawyers say, without recourse. J After a fashion perhaps, yes. If that is really the best she can do—yes. If she is young, timid, preoccupied with man’s work, if for any reason she has not yet fully en- tered into, still less if she has not yet clearly conceived of, her kingdom, I suppose it must be yes ; but only a partial, a temporary, a conditional yes at best ; a yes of make- shifts, not of principles. It is better to bail the boat than go to the bottom. It is better to rig up a sail from a silk mantle than not to get into port. But it remains that the chief and ultimate thing is to build the yacht on a right model, trim and staunch, to sail with God the seas, and make port not only safely but proudly. The fundamental remedy for financial friction is not separate purses but a better understanding of the one purse; a more complete comprehension of the unity that underlies the relation of man and wife, and of which the financial is but a single phase. With all our higher education of women, with all their actual mental stir and their elevated social status, even our American women have, in general, but a faint and frag- mentary notion of woman’s true position asa factor in the problem of humanity. Women do not generally discern the existence or the nature of their real superiority to man. Neither do men. In this country, which—I judge from a somewhat limited observation, it is true, but an observation helped out by care and interest—has advanced further in the right direction, which is the only real advance, than any other ;—in this country woman is set on a pedestal above the com- mon earth. It is not that men have put her there, but she is somehow—by the Power out- side ourselves that makes for righteousness —there. Men concede the position half in jest; women accept .it half in earnest ; neither understand that it is a stage in the eternal order of progress, in the majestic de- velopment of humanity. Happily it is not necessary that this should be understood. Happily we can be in harmony with laws of the universe of which we know nothing. Women can, women do, stand in their own place and rule their kingdom beneficently, unaware that they have a place or a king- dom ; living only their sweet, full life of impulse, integrity, and affection; right- thinking, right-acting by inward divine revelation. To nearly every woman, so nearly that one may say with no more than rhetorical exag-

Page 51

THE DOMESTIC MONEY QUESTION geration, to every woman, there comes once - in life—and often it is “Once and for one only ’— a short sway, a few years, months, moments when her spiritual scepter is potent, her su- premacy not only unquestioned, not only ac- cepted, but craved as the boon of life, trium- phantly worn as the prize and crown of all earthly endeavor. It is a short supremacy ; custom stales its novelty, and careseat away the leisure for its delight ; and, more fatal than all else, limited earthly nature falters under the long draught upon its spiritual strength and responds feebly and fitfully ; but while it lasts there is no financial ques- tion. Love, living and active, makes no count, but lavishes. Love does not pay bills, or furnish funds, or provide support. Allis incense, offering, sacrifice, the costlier the sweeter, since so, more fully, is love and worship expressed. I am not unaware that many will consider this, still more what follows, as mere senti- mental high-flying ; I do not deny that it is. But it is also a truth of the spiritual world as simple, as fundamental as gravitation in the material world ; a truth which to ignore or defy is to invite disaster. High-flying is here the only safe flying. It is low-flying that makes life murky. The ordinary way is to treat this brief and generally youthful period of exaltation with an indulgent, regretful sympathy, as a pleas- ing, almost a playful incident, a tuneful prelude to pretty sober prose, a flowery path- way to work-a-day fields ; universal but in- significant ; to be prudently, promptly, cheer- fully relinquished and practically forgotten. Young people, young women especially, are forewarned not to wreck their own and their husbands’ happiness by laying too much stress on the blandishments of courtship, and foolishly sighing over their submergence in the solid friendship of marriage. They are warmly enjoined not to be disappointed and distressed when they reassume exist- ence, as needs must, no longer divinities adored, enshrined, but women, with faults and limitations and duties ; to be occupied, judged, perhaps censured. If a wife is re- spected, consulted, honored, and trusted, she is advised that she is very well off, and would be only foolish to expect those con- stant looks and words of affection that be- seem the uncertain period of love, and mark 395: only its pursuit. The man having gained his prize, can no longer be alert, but is tran- quil and careless in possession. That is all. With that she must comfort herself. But that is not all; in fact, it is nothing at all. It does not touch the depths of the question. Whoever has tried to feed on it has found it what it is—husks; and none the less will it be husks, though it should be fed out a thousand years for corn. When a woman whose heart has been won from her by the innumerable fascinations of love begins to feel the deadly chill of its with- drawal, nothing can be more idle than to tell her that it is the way of the world. It is not the way of her world. In her world, her silent, cherished, ideal inner world, which only the touch of love can open, and only the foot of love can tread, love grows. day by day in beauty, and stature, and strength, knowing no abatement of novelty, falling into no stupor of coldness, sounding never the harsh note of retreat. It is not in a woman to live and love and not suffer martyrdom when love begins to hibernate, however pride and instinct may school her to silence. I never see even two idiots in a railway train, idiotically revealing their love to all the world—and I think love can never appear to greater disadvantage—without an honest, sympathetic pang for the disillusion —there is no such word in the dictionary, but there ought to be-;which is sure to come, and which will be swift and violent and vulgar in proportion to the correspond- ing qualities of its display. How to say to them and to all the world that it is the disillusion that is delusion ? The illusion is the high-water mark of truth. This short exceptional state of exaltation, glamour, delirium, is the real level, the ulti- mate goal of life. Love is the revealer. Love raises for one transfiguring moment the dull, heavy, shrouding curtain, and shows the soul in its supreme but attain- able moment. What man and woman are to each other in that inward illumination, this is their real relation. The mark of the beast is deeply on us all ; the curtain drags down again full soon; care and cark come in to make us sad-hearted, absent-minded, for- getful of days and tokens and the inter- change that once was essential. Absorbed in gain, strenuous in the never-ending fight for life, weighted under the never-lifting

Page 52

396 burden of sorrow, we permit ourselves to grow commonplace and uninteresting ; but none the less has the curtain once been drawn aside, and the man and woman have seen each other glorified. This idealization—ideal, not in the sense of being unreal, but of being the realization of the ideal—continues exactly in propor- tion to the ability of the character to sustain it. The loftiest nature feeds longest the flame of love. In this, the highest regard, woman is unquestionably the superior. Man and woman together form the human unit, and of that unit man is the part most close- ly akin to earth; woman is the part more nearly allied to heaven. The old story of the creation in Eden frames this in a primi- tive picture, whose details are brought out with infinite minuteness and accuracy all along the way of human history. Many men are nobler than many women. Many wives are coarser than many husbands. But the essential fact remains that womanhood is a diviner, a more spiritual and hidden substance, than manhood. Young, eager, forceful, man’s love is kin- died at a torch that is only half from heaven ; but it carries all before it. While it burns it devours obstacles, defies fate, conquers death, absorbs woman. The man is Lord and Mas- ter. The woman’s soul opens more slowly, never spontaneously ; must always be won open by persistent and imperious assurance. Love is shy, timorous, reluctant. The faint flame fears to shine, flickers, and is ready to die at an uncareful breath ; but once steadily alight, it burns with an everlasting radiance. Thus the recognized fact that women love more, and live by love more, and live in their love more, than men, has its origin not in weakness but in strength. Women are not to be exhorted to expect less love than they give as the proper ratio; to put up with half-heartedness as their final award. What they are to do is to use their divine gift of love-power to bring men up to whole- heartedness. Love was never invented for the fun of it. Love was never created for in- dulgence alone. Not alone for its softness to the tread, however sweet the softness ; not alone for the breath of its fragrance, how- ever exquisite the bloom, was that garden of enchantment spread around the fountain of life. In the realm of God every fact has ‘its soul. THE COSMOPOLITAN. Nothing is insignificant. Least of all can the universal be insignificant. Love gives not only the radiant aureole of happiness ; it is the white glow in which character is fused and fashioned. Here, woman is the chief artificer. What- ever ranks of beings may be in other worlds, in this world none outranks woman for pos- sessing the mind of Christ, the divine in the human—divine in the hiding of her power, divine in her inexhaustible patience, divine in her eternal love. The literal fact of motherhood is but the outward and visible sign of the inward and spiritual grace of motherliness. Some of the truest mothers have been childless. Sometimes, but seldomer, women have held their own children in their arms without ever tasting the sweet or reading the secret of motherhood. And so, by short and easy and natural stages, we come to the household purse. For woman is the mother element of hu- manity. Woman is the mother, the brood- ing, living, patient, constant former of her husband’s character just as truly as of that of her children. Her love is to continue the mother’s work and build up the man’s spirit- ual being. All the allurements of love were to lead her to that holy and arduous office, to bind her therein with life-long devotion. Her business is to train the imperfect, but loving, and therefore willing ; the beloved, and therefore possible, man into the fullness of the stature of the perfect man in Christ Jesus. What he showed himself to her under the glamour of ‘‘extraordinary gen- erous seeking,’’ that she must see that he abide in the searching and steady sunlight. Where he installed her on the day of their espousals, there she must stand till the end of the days, even though she have to fight for foothold! The delicate, sensitive spirit would often, perhaps, choose rather to yield everything ; to withdraw within itself as aforetime ; but that is denied her. That would be selfishness. Once having ad- mitted him to the inner sanctuary, she has forfeited the right to exclude him, except from utter hopelessness to eternal darkness ; but of this do not speak; not of the bad men, the vile and vulgar, who have not yet emerged from beasthood far enough to count as spiritual beings ; who only by some fatal and inexplicable mistake are ever mated

Page 53

THE DOMESTIC MONEY QUESTION. with the daughters of God. None but their Maker can deal with them, and to Him it seems sane and sanitary that they should be promptly remitted. I speak of men most dear, well, and wor- thily beloved, who do the best they know how, and who yet will sometimes grieve, not to say enrage, the women for whom they would nobly die, because they do not know any better. If such an one his wife finds less delicate, thoughtful, tactful, tender than she found the lover, it should be the business of her life to restore him, or, if need be, to lead him to his right mind, not abandon him to continuous decadence. But if, also, when such an one begins to be forgetful and indifferent, begins not to notice, begins to take things for granted, begins to fall back into, or, for the first time, to show symptoms. of, exclusive ownership of himself, his wife would be saved much sorrow if she could find it in her heart to dis- cern the truth, that it is not necessarily a matter personal to herself or to him, but common to his department of the race. It is the flicker and failure of the inferior spirit, unable to mate the steady glow of the superior spirit. The intellect may be vast and commanding, but character is greater than intellect. The moral nature outranks the intellectual nature. It is true that his faltering zs the way of the world, but only to the extent that it is not a mat- ter for solitary dismay, surprise, grief. But still more, on the other hand, is it not for surrender. Her stronger soul must gird itself to its heavenly task, and keep down the base in man, and teach high thought, and hold him to the highest possibilities. If he forgets her position, if he succumbs to his strong earth-nature and looks ppon him- self as the final arbiter, looks upon money that he has earned as his rather than hers, because he earned it, instead of looking upon it as hers rather than his, because it is for her he earned it, because it is she who must give it true value by transmuting it into home, art, character—then she must vig- ilantly keep her lamp trimmed and burning to light him into the right path. If he falls into the error of fancying that his work is the more important because it makes the most noise, insures the most fame, is most easily seen and measured, she must show him that those are the infallible signs of 397 secondary, human work, of this world’s work ; while the very silence, the impon- derance, impalpability, and immeasurabil- ity of her work by this world’s standards, are the signs by which she reads her title clear to mansions in the skies; and if he would dwell by her side in those mansions, he must serve her loyally in these. A woman should never suffer herself to forget that it is her duty to bring her hus- band to his better mind, nor herself to sur- render to his worse. It may almost be said that it is not his fault if he does not fully understand their relative situations, does not understand her delicacy regarding the money question ; does not understand that money is the sign of her spiritual credit in her household, just as it is the sign of his commercial credit in the world. He was born into a lower stratum, a denser atmos- phere. He was born a man. He can not help that. He can not, at a single jump, vault into the empyrean forever, where a woman naturally dwells. ‘‘ Through love’s divine omnipotence’’ he soared thither for one brief period and filled his lungs with the divine afflatus ; but that single experi- ence could not furnish him for a sustained, an illimitable flight. The wife should teach her husband that the prize is not won simply because it is in his hand. A horse, a house, a housekeeper can hardly be so secured ; how much less a living spirit. To have her is but a part of the quest ; the real entity is to hold her. The old marriage ceremony formulates all my sentimentalism: ‘‘ to have and to hold,”’ said the tough old fathers of the Prayer- book, building better than they knew, if they did not mean to build my sanctuary. When a man has gathered into the fold of home the girl he loves, all that he has secured is his opportunity ; opportunity to grow in grace, to command her happy alle- giance, to crown her queen of all that is; opportunity to organize around one blessed hearthstone the Kingdom of Heaven. How vain, and trivial, and cheap, and vul- gar seem the lust of clothes and carpets, the ostentations and rivalries of petty ma- terialism beside this Holy Light, offspring of Heaven, first-born, and of the Eternal, co-eternal beam ! The relation of money is but one of the many relations that should feel the benign

Page 54

398 and shaping touch of woman. It is chiefly important because of its ministering power, because it is servant of servants to its breth- ren. It is not to be disposed of by setting up a separate purse, any more than by set- ting up a separate child. If aman counts a woman fit to be the mother of his children, it is little that she should be fit to expend money for their rearing. If a man is gentle and soft enough to come into tender contact with his little children, he must be malleable enough to be shaped aright in regard to the money that they and their mother require. Of course, if the man is over-brutal, and the woman over-silly, there must be disaster, whether there be one purse or twenty, or none. There may well be women who have no sense about money, just as there are women who do not know how to bring up children. It is a defect of character. Such women are a failure in proportion to their defects, and their defective work, it can not be denied, is evil. But if both husband and wife are of the common type, honest, sin- cere, devoted, and fairly sensible, a patient, continuous, and not unlovely process of con- sultation and conciliation and compromise will bring them eventually into a clear un- derstanding of relative values. A not unlovely process? Certainly not. On the contrary, it is a loving and comfort- ing process. A man needs to be comforted for being a man, needs often to be long and lovingly labored with before he can be made aware that he needs consolation for being a man! He should be well assured that though a lowly, he is still a necessary, min- ister at the shrine of humanity. His wife should caressingly convince him that though he has the rough work to do, it is work that must be done before she can do hers. He must make a frame for her picture or she would have to go into cabinet-making herself, and by so much abandon her true artistic work. His lot has been appointed him to delve and dig, to preach and plead, THE COSMOPOLITAN. to brave wind and sun and storm. He must work like a horse, and he is less strong than ahorse. He must live as a spirit, and he is not so pure a spirit as his wife. It zs hard lines for the poor man, and his wife must hold a most careful and cherishing hand to encourage him as a man, and not to discour- age him as a—well, as a horse. When he makes his little unholy lurches into arrogance, as may not unnaturally be expected in his cruder stages, and enforces, or even assumes his hundred-horse-power as the effective and standard power, it is not for her to weep in silent heart-break and despair, or to take refuge in United States bonds of her own; or rudely to make his ignorant .life a burden to him by her dis- pleasure. It is with sweetness, as well as light, to suffuse his soul till his conviction becomes a constitutional instinct, that hers is the immediate, his but the mediate hand, in establishing the kingdom of Heaven on earth ; that he supplies, and she applies, the exquisite tools for its eternal workmanship ; that he is the brawny servitor to bring gifts to the altar, and she the high-priestess before the Holiest of Holies, where foot of men never penetrated. He may buy and bring and bruise the frankincense and myrrh, but she alone swings the solemn censer when the smoke of their common offering ascends to Heaven. I am sure this theory needs only to be suggested to be adopted; and its adoption means smooth sailing henceforth forever more. Women will take their true posi- tion, if only they can be certain it is theirs. Men will come promptly into line when they know that the procession moves Heaven- ward. Happy pen, to which has been given to establish such peace on earth! Happy earth, in that I may now, after the man- ner of Browning, and with the good-wiil of all men, ‘“‘hush and bless myself with silence’’ !

Page 55

MONTE CARLO: ITS GAMES AND GAMESTERS.* By CHARLES C. WELMAN. F \ JHEN the servant opens the Venetian shutters of his bedroom window on the morning after his arrival at Monte Carlo, the traveler, say, from the British Isles, who sees the sunlight pouring in can hardly believe that a few hours can have brought him intoa ‘climate so different from the cold and gloomy one in which the Anglo-Saxons are con- demned to pass too many months a year. It is the end of November; but the sky is cloud- less, the air is balmy, the flowers and orange blossoms send their fragrance into the room, and the sun tempts him out into the bal- cony. So, putting on a dressing-gown, not so much to keep him warm as to fit him for society, he takes the tray, on which is se- ductively arranged ux café complet, places it on the balustrade, and looks out upon the Mediterranean. Luxuriously enjoying his fragrant coffee and the little twisted rolls, which, with a wafer of delicious butter, make his early breakfast, he can not but ad- mit that, under certain circumstances, life zs worth living, after all. He is in no hurry ; one never need be at Monte Carlo ; and, whilst dressing, returns again and again into the balcony to sun himself, and gaze upon the lovely view. After writing his letters, he is free for the day. As hestickson the last postage stamp, he dismisses from his mind all the worries and cares of life, and gives himself up—it is easy to do so under such conditions—to the full enjoyment of the present. As he intends to ‘‘have a look in’’ at the tables, he arms himself with his letter of credit, and saunters out to find the bank. He discovers that there is no establishment of the kind in the whole of the principality ! Curiously enough, the Prince of Monaco, although countenancing the presence of the gaming tables, will not tolerate that of a bank. But he can stroll into France—it is only a The first part of this article was published in the July umber, few yards away—and he is presently across the frontier, and in the little bank of the Veuve Lacroix. The next thing is to buy a white umbrella to keep off the sun, to find out a barber—one is too comfortably indolent to shave himself at Monte Carlo—and to complete the toilet with a button-hole. It is impossible to enter the flower shop without buying more flowers than all the button- holes in one’s coat would carry ; so a box of roses, lilies of the valley, heliotrope, and carnations is soon on its way to England, and the purchaser leaves the shop with a conviction that he has done his duty, and is entitled to all the amusement hecan get. It is a comfort to sit down to breakfast and dinner without thetrouble of ordering dishes in advance. When the British waiter inquires what he would like, the visitor often finds it difficult to think of anything but chops or steaks, and as the waiter is never ready with ad- vice, beyond perhaps a muttered ‘‘ nice fowl, sir,’’ he probably orders one of these dishes, which, in most country hotels throughout England, seem to be looked upon as “ the means whereby he lives.’’ The /able-a’héte system is a great relief, certainly ; it is coming to us, but how slowly! When shall we get good coffee? When will the refreshments at our English railway stations cease to deprive us of our appetites by their very appearance? When will a bowl of clear soup be obtainable, that ‘‘tasse de bouillon’’ which is the comfort of the traveler abroad ? The conversation at the /adle a’hdte dé- jeuner is full of references to the luck expe- rienced by players on the previous day ; sys- tems and martingales and runs of luck in- sist on monopolizing it, like ‘‘ golf’’ at St. Andrews or ‘‘ hunting ’’ at Melton Mowbray. After breakfast, the Monte Carlo world makes its way to the Casino, where, morning after morning, from year’s end to year’s end, a crowd of players awaits the opening of the doors. A strange and motley crowd it is! Its constituent parts may change from day to

Page 56

400 day, but its characteristic features remain, a kaleidoscopic jumble of representatives of ‘*all sorts and conditions of men,’’ and wo- men, and of every nation under the sun. Here we have multitudes met to do the same thing, but in many different ways, and with objects altogether dissimilar. Some spend their lives in the room, content to make each day a certain small sum, which they look upon as the interest of the money they are prepared to risk ; these are the old hands, the cautious players, but they are certain to have their ‘‘dark hour’’ sooner or later. Others seem to prefer ‘‘a short life and a merry one;’’ they will not remain long in the room, but, whilst there, play recklessly, as the fancy of the moment leads them. No systems for these! They despise them all ! Their motto is, ‘‘ Luck and luck only.”’ Then, again, there are the worshipers of systems ; they have been preparing for the attack for nionths, and at home and on paper have done wonderful things, or they would not be here; but in most cases the system employed comes to this : that they can not be beaten unless some combination or run takes place, against which the odds are very great. These may be successful for a long time, but it is easy to calculate the odds against that run or combination, and it is certain to confront them sooner or later, and will prob- ably, when it once makes its appearance, prove the truth of the proverb, ‘‘ Misfortunes never come singly,’ by quickly appearing again. There are the superstitious players, who back the number of their room at the hotel ; of the railway carriage in which they traveled from Nice or Mentone; of the day of the month ; of azynumber they may happen to hear of, dream of, read of ! Once in thirty- seven times (on an average) they naturally win, the betting being only thirty-six to one against them, and this sets them off anew ; they whisper the wonderful -news to a friend and set Aim off, for they forget to mention the number of times they failed, and so the game goes on. Then we come to the ‘‘ plasterers.’’ These are generally ladies whose supplies are drawn from other pocket-books than their own. Attended by the gentleman for whom she is about to ‘“‘ plunge,’’ and who stands modestly in the background with a roll of notes in his hand, the plasterer covers the table with gold. Following her ‘“‘inspira- THE. COSMOPOLITAN. tion,’’ she piles the louis here and there, on every kind of event and in a sort of frenzy, up to the last moment that the ball continues to spin. This is not a bad sort of gambling (when the money is not one’s own), for, after all, one is as likely to win as to lose: in the former event, ‘‘one participates;’’ in the latter, one does nothing of the kind. ‘‘/’7ze lejeu/” Besides these classes, there is the amusing one of those who hover round a five-franc piece and dance with excitement as the num- ber is called out. They are probably the richest people in the room. For the contemplation of human nature Monte Carlo is a splendid studio. You ad- mire the calmness with which a maximum is lost or won by a player, whose face betrays noemotion, whatever may happen, and smile contemptuously at the petulance of another, who loses a couple of louis and his temper at the same coup. You make a note on the subject, resolving to imitate the former, but find it not quite so easy to do so as a pile of your own bright gold is harvested in a mat- ter of fact way, provoking in itself. II. DURING the season the Roulette tables are surrounded by so great a throng that the players who manage to obtain seats are hardly to be envied. Those standing behind them—in rows often two or three deep—think nothing, in the excitement of the moment, of leaning over the occupants of chairs and pushing against them to an exasperating extent. Altogether, what with the excite- ment of play, the heat of the room, and the pushing alluded to, it is well not to remain at the tables for more than an hour or two at atime, and a stroll in the entrance hall, in the soothing company of a cigar, is a good preparation for the enjoyment of the concert which is given at three o’clock. In the magnificent theater, the seats, which are free to all, are roomy and luxurious, and the exquisite music charms the loser into in- difference and calms the excitement of the winner, The concert over, a couple of hours may well be devoted to walking or driving, and the soft air, the sunny skies, and lovely scenery invite one to forget the voice of the croupier, and to turn from the spell of his magic rake. The gardens fringing the sum-

Page 57

\ “he 1 - =~ t t LES. || aa: L372 ¥ \ a * ep > = hyd After a painting by Ludwig Bokelman. SCENE IN THE SALON-DE-JEU

Page 58

402 mit of the rock of Monaco are within a short drive, and in these it is a delight to lounge. They are not nearly so formal as those sur- rounding the Casino. Through paths»bor- dered by scarlet geraniums, ten feet high, and shaded by cypress and ilex, one arrives con- tinually at points of view from which he looks down into the clear water far below, and away, on either hand, along the bold in- dented coast line. Of ships there are few to be seen in thespring, but, on a clear day, the snowy mountain tops of Corsica may be viewed ‘‘ fringing the southern sky.’’ Here and there the idea of fortification is kept up by an obsolete gun, sometimes dismounted, and a crumbling embrasure ; but these give an expression of profoundest peace. There is an army somewhere about the rock, principally in the sentry-boxes at the palace gate, and a veteran officer with long, white mustache may occasionally be seen sunning himself in the square. With what calm indifference may he peruse the paper, and read of wars and ruinors of wars! No doubt he has done good duty somewhere in days gone by; but now he is at rest. The Prince of Monaco is liberal and open- handed, and does not forget to devote to char- ity and religion a portion of the large in- come which the advent of the gaming tables has incidentally brought him. A very hand- some and richly built cathedral at Monaco and a beautiful church at Monte Carlo have lately been opened, and testify to his zeal and devotion. It must be confessed that there is no great choice of roads in making an excursion from Monte Carlo. It is only possible to go south in a boat, or north in the character of an Al- pine climber, as the mountains and the sea hem the little territory in; but the main road, running east and west, offers the at- traction of such glorious views that it is im- possible to tire of it. A visit to Roguebrune, on the road toward Mentone, takes one back at once into the Middle Ages. The little town can not have changed very much during several centuries. The ancient tower, with its fortified court- yard, and the houses clustering in pictur- esque confusion round the rocky summit which it crowns, must have seen men come and go and still remained the same them- selves through many a long year, and, as the visitor, leaning over the rampart wall, THE COSMOPOLITAN. looks down over the mountain slopes where the peasants are watching their flocks as their ancestors did in days of old, and sces the bright cupolas of the Casino glittering in the distance, it is difficult for him to be- lieve that he is close to such a busy, restless world. The peasants lead a hard, dull life, exist- ing from day to day, but rarely bettering the position in which they were born. There is no capital amongst them, no great employ- ers of labor, nothing to stimulate energy ; and, if peasant proprietorship is, as it may be elsewhere, a blessing to the community at large, it would be unwise to point to the Riviera as an illustration of its advantages. Even the peasants, however, share in the prosperity that the advent of the gaming tables has brought to the entire district, and find aready market for ten times the amount of garden and farm produce for which there was formerly a demand. On the other side of Monaco, that is to say, on the way to Nice, there nestles at the bases of the hills a lovely little cluster of houses, hardly more than this at present, known as Beaulieu. It is, perhaps, the most sheltered spot along the coast, almost tropi- cal in its vegetation, and a fairy land of love- liness. People are beginning to find this out, and it is to be hoped that the beautiful little place will not be over-built in conse- quence. For a carriage and pair to Roguebrune and back the fare is twelve francs ; to Beaulieu and back, thirteen ; to Mentone and back, fourteen ; to Villefranche and back, sixteen; to Nice and back, twenty-five francs. This will give an idea of the relative distances, and it may be mentioned that in each case the payment of these fares includes the right of staying a proportionate time at the places mentioned. For instance, an hourand a half at Mentone, three hours at Nice, and so on. When the important hour of dinner ar- rives, the visitor can have his choice of many different places at which to dine, and it is very amusing to make the round of the vari- ous hotels and try the fade a’hdte provided ateach. Those at the Hotel de Paris, Hétel Victoria, Grand Hétel, Hétel de Russie, and Hétel des Anglais are all excellent, but the choice is not 1timited to these ; Monte Carlo is a town of hotels, there being about thirty in the little place.

Page 59

MONTE CARLO: There are also restaurants at many of these, and that at the Grand Hotel is to be highly recommended ; its rooms are beauti- fully furnished, and charmingly lit with shaded lamps and candles, and if a player desires the consolation of a perfect dinner, he may stroll in here with the greatest con- fidence. At Monte Carlo, of all places, the excuse for ordering a particularly sly and satisfactory dinner never seems to be want- ing. After a successful morning at the tables, it appears well to commemorate the occa- sion ; and if ill luck has attended the player, he naturally requires to be cheered up. Then again, after piles of louis and rolls of notes have been before his eyes all day, and very likely passing through his fingers, he is tempted to forget the value of money, and a louis more or less appears of little conse- quence. Cheered and refreshed, and further soothed by a cigar and cup of coffee, he makes his way once more to the Casino, plays his little game, and enjoys, perhaps for the second time, the concert which is given in the thea- teratnineo’clock. The tables close at eleven, after which a cigar at the Café de Paris, in- cluding something to moisten it with, anda stroll to the hotel, bring the day to a close. Such is life at Monte Carlo. III. WHEN M. Blanc, the proprietor of the tables, retired, a company was formed in or- der to carry on the concern, and there was no difficulty in raising the necessary capital. The shares are now at a premium ; but it is said that investors, although receiving good interest for their money, do not clear extra- ordinary profits, the daily expenses being so enormous. Everything is done, of course, in the most liberal manner, and no pains or expense are spared to make the place attrac- tive. Should any player lose all the money he has brought, he has only to go to the bureau, in order to be at once furnished with sufficient money to take hin home, no matter in what quarter of the world he may live. Butit is given as a loan; the name and description of the borrower are entered on the books, and he is not allowed to pass through the doors of the Casino, much less to piay at the tables, until the loan has been repaid. ITS GAMES AND GAMESTERS. 403 The sum employed in maintaining so splendid an orchestra must be enormous, artists being engaged regardless of all ex- pense. In the summer the concerts are con- ducted on the terrace, where it is delightful indeed to pace the well-kept walks, or to linger in the fragrant gardens listening to the soft strains of music beneath a star-lit sky, as the fire-flies fitfully glimmer close at hand, and the lights of Monaco are re- flected in the peafeful water of the interven- ing bay. On the feast of St. Charles, the great day at Monaco and Monte Carlo, the gardens and terraces are splendidly illumi- nated, and at the former place there is a grand display of fireworks. Besides the set pieces, which are very elaborate and costly, rockets innumerable, singly or in dozens, or in hundreds, rush up into the sky, and, re- flected in the dark water, seem to plunge into the depths below, until, in a bouquet of five hundred of these discharged at once, the display terminates, a display unrivaled even by the once famous Girandola of Rome. Immediately below the Casino, and just across the railway line, is the plot of ground devoted to pigeon-shooting. Here the in- ternational cup is competed for, and many other valuable prizes, and it is needless to say that a good deal of heavy betting takes place. Not long after the international match was established, the cup was won, curiously enough, two years in succession by two brothers—Englishmen—Captain H. B. Pat- ton and Captain Aubrey Patton, and for some time the English pigeon shots had a good deal the best of it ; but Americans and sportsmen of other nations have gone in for the amusement now, and quite hold their own atit. The ground is not considered an easy one, as the birds fly toward -the sea, and, if once allowed to rise, have for their background the deep blue water, instead of the green turf, and are in consequence diffi- cult to see. At such a place as Monte Carlo innumer- able stories are in circulation, as might well be supposed, of the luck of various players. The few examples of these that follow are well authenticated, and most of them are within the knowledge of the writer. Two gentlemen who had been working at a sys- tem at home went out to try it. At home it had worked to perfection, and they had made large fortunes in counters. Their

Page 60

404 capital was sufficiently large to stand a long run against them, but if the opposite color to that on which they were playing ap- peared sixteen times in succession, that would beat them ! Well, the odds against a run of sixteen are exactly sixty-five thousand five hundred and thirty-five to one, and as the average number of spins given at a Roulette board each day is something over six hundred, roughly speaking, twenty thousand spins a month, a run of sixteen, though certain to take place sooner or later, would hardly, they thought, be mean enough to make its appearance before they had won enough to meet it with comparative indifference. But they encountered a run of exactly that length the first evening they played, and went home next day! They were cer- tainly not only unlucky, but very foolish. To risk a large sum on the chance of an event zof occurring, which you know does, and even must, occur on an average about four times a year on every table in the room, is to play a game which you deserve to lose. Four players, not long ago, elaborated a system proof against azy long run and any combination, exceptone. It wascomplicated but ingenious ; they played systematically, having thoroughly drilled themselves before leaving home, and two playing at atrial (one to make the necessary calculations, the other to manipulate the stakes), they opposed the bank successfully for some weeks, win- ning about one thousand francs each hour they played, just as they had calculated they should. But one afternoon ‘he objection- able combination made its appearance, and ceprived them of ten thousand dollars in twenty minutes. Now, in this case, the odds against that combination continuing long enough to in- jure them were no doubt easy of calculation, and it would not have required a prophet to foretell in how many spins, on an average, they were certain to be confronted by it. There would be times, of course, when it would not be met with during double or treble this number of spins, and it was proba- bly chosen because it actually had been absent during thetrialsmade at home. The mistake made was that of supposing that a Roulette board or (in the case of Trente et Quarante) a pack of cards has a fundamental objection to any possible combination or pattern tak- THE COSMOPOLITAN. ing place as often as—according to the odis against it—it is due. There is, however, nothing morecertain than this, that at gam.s of chance all the proper averages will work out, and be duly maintained zz the long run. But one hears more of the winners than of the losers at Monte Carlo. People are not fond of proclaiming that the pet system has broken down, whereas it is pleasant to speak of a success. A large sum was won years ago by a small company of players in the following man- ner: An ingenious mechanic having come to the conclusion that it was impossible to maintain a cylinder in such perfect work- ing order that it should not tend a little to one side or another, and thus favor certain numbers more than others, haunted the rooms for months, and was rewarded by finding that his conclusions were right, and that certain numbers, at certain tables, ap- peared in the registers he kept, with undue frequency. These numbers the members of his company set to work to back, and with such success that they had won very largely indeed before the proprietors dis- covered their secret. It is said that after a quarrel amongst themselves, one of the party gave information as to their mode of procedure ; but, be this as it may, the cylin- der of every Roulette board is now removed and tested after each day’s play, and no more money is to be made in the manner described. The luck of players for a time is sometimes overwhelming. It would be a mistake to call it extraordinary, for it is merely a mat- ter of averages being worked out. An aver- age can only be maintained in one of two ways—by perfect regularity, or by cluster- ing. As games of chance are not remark- able for regularity, clustering must inevi- tably take place. For instance, there are thirty-seven numbers including the zero; take any number you please, and you will find that in any large number of spins it will appear once in thirty-seven spins, not every thirty-seventh spin, however ; it does not appear with regularity, but at times shows itself with undue frequency, at others refuses to appear at all. This is just the case with players. A player will win on a number once in thirty-seven times, taking the whole year through ; but he will do this by having quite a cluster of louis at times,

Page 61

MONTE CARLO: and by being unable to touch a winning number at others. The great mistake made by the major- ity of players is that of supposing, or, by their mode of playing, appearing tosuppose, that because they have been exceedingly lucky for a time, that luck is iikely to con- tinue. A lady, on one occasion, walked up to the table as the ball was spinning, and threw down a note, telling the croupier to put ‘‘all that was possible’’ on thirty-two. The croupier had just time to call out ‘“‘¢a@ va, madame,’ when the ball rolled into 32, and she won a maximum. As she was gathering up her notes and gold, and whilst the ball was again spinning, she threw an- other note on 17. She had hardly done so before that number made its appearance— another maximum! That same evening at a different table she placed six louis on 32, and won (two hundred and ten louis)! and the next morning she won another very large stake on that number again. Az? she did not appear to understand that such luck was uncommon, or that the betting was, after all, thirty-six to one against her ; for she went on persistently for several days backing 32, whilst that number as persis- tently refused to appear! and that is how she got rid of hey winnings ! Before the tables had been banished from Germany a student from Frankfort, who had just received a parental visit, and a tip for one thousand francs, rushed over to Hom- burg as soon as his fond parent had left him and hurried to the tables. He was very lucky, and before dinner had won a consid- erable sum. Encouraged by the best of din- ners and plenty of champagne, he returned to the attack, and before eleven o’clock had won no less than fifty thousand dollars ; but the proprietor, aware of what was going on, and knowing that such luck was un- likely to last, engaged a special train back to Frankfort, and just before eleven informed the players that the tables that night would remain open till twelve. Before that time, the tide turned, and the student lost all that he had won, which was no doubt a very good thing for him, if he could only have ITS GAMES AND. GAMESTERS. 405 looked at it in the proper light. Now if he had been playing on even chances, and won largely on the Red, he would not in all probability have insisted on continuing to back that color after Black had begun to assert itself, because he would have known that the latter color was as likely to win as the former, and had, so to speak, arrears to make up; and yet after being enormously successful at first, he con- tinued to back himself after luck had de- parted, quite forgetting that a player loses, in the long run, as often as he wins, and that he had arrears of losses to make up. To the lookers-on, it is easy to see when the moment arrives for a player who has had extraordinary success to button up his pockets and go; but the player himself too often fails to perceive what is so apparent to the rest. This induced M. Blanc to remark that, ‘‘If players only knew when to leave them, the tables would soon have to be closed.’’ There are instances, of course, of a success- ful player carrying his money safely away. An officer who had taken out four thousand dollars lost it almost all, and determined to leave ; he paid his bill at the hotel, packed up his things, and took his ticket. He had two hours to spare, and a few louis in his pocket ; so he went back to the tables. He left the room with four thousand five hundred dollars, and caught his train / At Roulette, enormous sums may be won in a very short time, even if the player has hardly any capital to start with. It is pos- sible, for instance, for a single five-franc piece to produce six thousand four hundred and seventy-five francs in two spins ; for if it be placed on a winning number, the player receives one hundred and seventy-five francs, and if that sum, together with the original five-franc piece, be placed on a number, and the player is again successful, he receives six thousand three hundred more, making in ‘all the sum mentioned. The betting is only one thousand three hundred and thirty- two to one against him !

Page 62

CHARLES SUMNER.—I. RECOLLECTIONS BY ARNOLD BURGES JOHNSON. R. SUMNER stood six feet two inches high without his shoes, and he was so well built that his height was only notice- able when he was near a person of ordinary size. Butthere was a manner about him, a free swing of the arm, a stride, a pose of his shaggy head, a sway of his broad shoulders, that gave to those who knew him best the idea that he was of heroic size. Then, too, there was something in the intent look of his deep-set eye, his corrugated brow, the frown born of intense thought, and his large head, made to seem yet larger by its crown of thick, heavy, longish gray hair, all of which gave the idea of physical greatness ; but with his frequent smile the set frown passed, his whole appearance changed, and his face beamed like a dark lantern suddenly lighted. His smile effected a wonderful transforma- tion in his whole appearance, and it set up a peculiar sympathy between himself and its recipient. For one of his sedentary habits, he had extraordinary strength, and yet he was not an athlete. While in Washington his only exercise was walking, and as he believed that it was the pace rather than the distance which tells, when opportunity offered he would go ata rate that amazed beholders. Some persons attempting to join and keep up with him only succeeded by taking an occasional hop, skip, and jump, such as children practice when walking with their parents. Upto the time of his injuries he walked much in Washington, for, as he said, he could outwalk omnibuses, and give them long odds. He was hardly aware of his enormous strength, it was so seldom called into exer- cise. His books were packed in large boxes at the end of each session and sent from his rooms to the Capitol, only to be returned at the beginning of the next session. These boxes weighed nearly five hundred pounds each, and were difficult to handle in passages and stairways, and so were accompanied by four men. Once when he was living at the Rev. Dr. Sampson’s, one of these heavy boxes got stuck in the stairway. It could be extricated without damage tothe walls only by lifting it.over the banister. The four men failed to apply their strength to the most advantage, for they got in each other’s way, and thus failed to move the box. The Senator, hatted and gloved, ready to go out, came to the stairs. ‘“Why don’t you lift it over the rail ?’’ said he. ‘*How can we?’’ answered one. have no idea of its weight.”’ ‘*Let me try,’’ said the Senator, and lean- ing over the rail he seized the rope becket at the end of the box and lifted the latter clear of its entanglements by one sure pull, split- ting his glove, however, across the back. The men were amazed ; and he, a little em- barrassed, said, ‘‘I didn’t mean to lift it, only to try its weight ;’’ and then went back for fresh gloves. When he lived at Mr. Cammack’s on F Street, the adjoining fra:ne building caught fire, and after a time there was danger to the house where he lived and kept his books and papers. He came to the front door in dress- ing-gown and slippers, and watched the efforts of the firemen. The hook and ladder company were trying to fix a huge hook at the end of a heavy pole into the shanty to pull down the structure. Three times they thrust this heavy spar into the flames with- out result. ‘“Why don’t you hook on to that beam ?”’ asked the Senator. ‘“‘T’d like to see you do it,’’ was the retort. ‘Here, give me your stick,”’ he cried, and placing the spar on his shoulder, he thrust it so vigorously and with so good an aim that the hook caught in the kingbeam, the firemen tailed on to the hauling line, and in an instant the whole structure was leveled to the ground, and the fire was soon extin- guished. The Senator meantime was step- ping around, daintily on the toes of his slippers, to save his feet from the wet, hold- ing the skirts of his long dressing-gown as a lady might her train, assuring himself that the work was well done. The firemen gave him three cheers, and it was even proposed ** You

Page 63

CHARLES SUMNER to make him an honorary member of their organization. When, in the spring of ’56, Brooks as- saulted Sumner, the Senator was sitting at his desk in the Senate with his eyes quite near the letter, or whatever he was writing, and his knees well under the desk. The heavy oak chair in which he sat was so placed that he could not readily extricate himself. The four legs of the desk were fas- tened to the floor by angle irons screwed both to the legs and to the hard-pine boards. Brooks approached him without being seen, and spoke and struck at the same instant. The Senator was partially stunned by the first blow, but dazed as he was, he sprang up at his antagonist with such force that he tore the desk from its fastenings, sending the chair far back from him. The force exerted was with the muscles of his loins and back. Could he have grappled with Brooks, there would have been no question as to the result, except that Keitt and Ed- monston stood ready, as they said, to pre- vent interference. One effect of his injuries was that afterwards in walking he generally had to carry his hand at the small of his back, and at times he leaned heavily on his thick cane. His digestion was good up to the last. Before his injuries he used to pride himself on this; nothing hurt him. He always breakfasted quite lightly and never took lunch. After he became an invalid, he learned his limitations and respected them. But before, while he lived plainly as a rule, the late and heavy dinners that he attended, as he used to say, ‘‘in his official capacity,”’ never troubled him. He had a child-like love for sweets, and often bought chocolate creams, and the like. Indeed, I rather came to look for the share he often poured on my desk from a paper cone of confectionery pur- chased on his way home from the Senate. He seemed somewhat sensitive as to this taste, ifone might judge from the pains he sometimes took to defend it. He hoped he would never outgrow his sweet tooth, for so long as it remained he was sure of his digestion. But this was his only dissipation. He did not smoke—not that he couldn’t, but ather that he wouldn’t. Still, when he ave or was present at dinners, and cigars ne on with the wine after the removal of 407 the cloth, he would light up with the others rather than to be a spoil-sport, but I doubt if he ever smoked a whole cigar. Nobody smoked in his rooms except Governor Sew- ard. While he was Secretary of* State he would often drop into Sumner’s quarters, and he seemed unable to talk at his ease without the aidof the weed. If he didn’t happen to have a cigar in his pocket, he would hunt on the mantel for one, and move around in an absent-minded way until the Senator, who knew that I smoked, would ask if I hadn’t a cigar for the Secretary. Indeed, Mr. Seward would sometimes open my desk to find one, and as the quality of my cigars suited my pocket rather than my taste, the Senator once asked if I had no better to offer, when Mr. Seward said that he was anxious for quan- tity rather than quality ; and again when I feared he would find a cigar he had taken from my desk rather poor, he amused the Senator by saying that no cigars were bad, but all were good, some were better, and a few were best. While Sumner had a critical taste in wines, he took wine only at meals, and then in moderation. He didn’t know spirits by their taste. Once when he found that one of his clerks had a flask of whisky in his valise, provided for the journey on which he was about to start, he asked a morsel as a curiosity, and after choking himself with a swallow taken neat, said it was the first time he had ever tasted whisky, and he rather thought it would be the last. On hearing that Bayard Taylor measured a man’s capacity for continuous literary work by his ability for continuous smoking, Sum- ner replied that he fancied that what was actually meant was, that a good stomach was the real requisite, as much smoking could not be done without injury except by those who could eat heartily and digest well. But Sumner prided himself upon his ability to eat well with no such aid to digestion. While he tolerated smoking, he abominated chewing, and would not permit the pres- ence of a cuspidor in his house—much to the disgruntlement of some statesmen who familiarly visited him; and he spoke with disgust of the conduct of one of our Virginia ministers to the Court of St. Cloud, wiao had to deposit a quid of tobacco in one of the great vases at the Tuileries when about to be presented to the Emperor, and the unsa-

Page 64

A1YPIAA S$ PRISPT Yuva mosf uvrissimssg Ag pargor ‘AGOLS §,4aNWOS SHINVHD

Page 65

CHARLES vory remembrances in which he was held among the diplomats at that Court in con- sequence. It should go without saying that Charles Sumner was never guilty of profanity. Yet he was tolerant of those of his assoctates who, like Senator Wade, when righteously indignant, would drop with great vigor into the vernacular ofhis early days. Once when the Senator from Ohio had made the air sul- phurous and lurid with his picturesque pro- fanity over a peculiarly exasperating and disastrous performance in negrophobia of one of our generals, a milk-and-water sort of person who sneered, in his absence, at old Ben’s language, was checked by Sumner's stare, and by his saying : ‘*Could you have given a better expression of our opinion ?”’ ‘* But the oaths,’’ was the reply. ‘* Still if it had to be done,’’ said the Sen- ator, ‘‘ you will admit that it was well done.”’ ‘* But the oaths,’’ reiterated the dilettante. ‘* Ah,’’ said Sumner, ‘‘they are of the kind that my Uncle Toby said the Recording Angel will blot out with atear.’’ And then he added reflectively: ‘‘But in old Ben’s case it will be rather hard on the lachrymal glands.’’ In philosophizing on the matter, the Sena- tor admitted that in all countries and in all ages mankind seemed to feel the need of expletives. The classics were full of in- stances. But he drew the line at ‘‘ the devil,’’ as did another, who intensified his exclama- tion by multiplication, as ‘‘ten devils, fifty devils,’’ or under peculiar stress, ‘‘a million devils.’ The Senator abhorred swearing in the abstract as ‘‘neither brave, polite, nor wise.”’ It was a maxim with him to say nothing but good of the absent and dead. Not that he would fail to criticise men as well as measures, but he was an absolute enemy to scandal and gossip; and he would often go to the verge of indorsement in defending the absent. ‘* But, Senator,’’ a friend once said, when thus put on the defensive, ‘‘I’ve heard you say as much to his face.”’ ‘‘To his face, yes !’’ was the reply. Sometimes, when others in his presence would fall into a gossiping vein, he opposed the protest of absolute silence to the tone the talk had taken. It was curious to note the 33 SUMNER. 409 wet-blanket effect his attitude would have on the conversation. He would not change the subject; he simply stared at the speaker and left him to say the next word. His capacity for silence was often his de- fense. While he was a favorite among the newspaper men, giving them ‘ points’’ on being questioned and often voluntarily, they could get nothing from him he did not choose to give. His answer would often be, ‘‘I can’t speak of that ;’’ and if the questioner per- severed, he got no answer. Remarks, con- jectures, statements of what others said on the subject, were all treated in the same way, so that nothing could be inferred from his silence. And if the speaker persisted, the Senator fixed him with his stony stare, and only spoke again when the subject was entirely changed. He often terminated an interview by opposing silence to loqua- city. He was absolutely of a clean, pure mind. Emerson said, ‘‘He has the whitest soul I ever knew.’”’ So far as I am aware, no one ventured to tell a risqué story in his pres- ence. It is said of him that at a dinner table he quenched a raconteur who began some- thing by saying, ‘‘I will venture to tell you a good story, as there are no ladies present,”’ by saying ‘“ But, sir, there are gentlemen present.”’ Besides Greek and Latin, the Senator read German, Spanish, Italian, and French, not counting Romaic, as he held that to be simply modern Greek. He spoke French fluently, so well in fact that many of his foreign visitors preferred to talk with him in that language. The vari- ous members of the diplomatic corps used to frequent his rooms not only for social but for business purposes, as, next to the Secre- tary of State, he was, as Chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs, the representative, at least to them, of this coun- try. As a rule, when one of them entered his library, the Senator welcomed him in his own language, but as a phrase or two of compliment would exhaust his vocabulary of the Russian or Scandinavian tongues, the talk would lapse into French, the language of diplomacy, which the Senator's private secretary, who was often at work in the room, was not supposed to understand. German, Italian, and Spanish he read with ease, but he spoke and understood them with more or

Page 66

410 less difficulty. He could write and speak in French almost as readily as in English. Italian he had studied while at Rome, where he worked faithfully, often twelve hours daily, mastering the tongue and read- ing its historians and poets. There he roamed about the Vatican and the palaces of the Eternal City with the sculptor Crawford as his guide. He spent days among the monasteries of Northern Italy, browsing among the illuminated missals and old MSS. of the fathers. Many a time the monks were astonished at his familiarity with the treasures of their libraries, some of which they hardly knew existed. The good bishop who, in Rome, tried to convert him to the true faith, assured him that if he would only read the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas he would surely yield him his assent, was somewhat amazed when the Senator replied that he had read in the original every word ‘‘the Angelic Doctor’’ had written, and that he had become Catholic enough to ad- mit that the great intellect of the saintly father had thoroughly impressed itself on the theological literature of his age. Senator Sumner had gathered many rare and valuable books, not merely Elzevirs and Aldines, but highly illuminated missals, Books of Hours with beautiful illustrations in colors, on vellum, coming down from the Middle Ages ; MSS. in heavy carved oak covers, with the chains still hanging to them by which they have been attached to THE COSMOPOLITAN. readi1ig-desks in the times when the title. papers of an estate were left as security for the return of a borrowed MSS; and old maps made in the time of Christopher Co- lumbus, on which new continents were pos- tulated. Among these rarities, interesting to visitors, was Bunyan’s Bible, the one he had with him in prison while writing the ‘‘ Pilgrim’s Progress.’’ It is bound in old calf, and is rebacked with brass corners, center pieces, and bands down the back, and has the old dreamer’s autograph on the title-page of the New Testament. A por- trait of Bunyan is also inserted, together with a wood-cut showing the cottage in which the second part of the ‘ Pilgrim’s Progress ’’ was written. There, too, was the Album Amicorum of Camillus Cardoyn, a Neapolitan nobleman, who, from 1608 to 1640, lived in Geneva. In it he had been accustomed to ask those who had partaken of his:-hospitality to inscribe a signed sentiment. As Geneva was on the direct route to Italy, many of the noted Englishmen making the grand tour stopped at this great house and left evidences of their visits in this volume. Among the many is an inscription by Thomas Wentworth, the great Earl of Strafford, and another by the author of ‘‘ Paradise Lost.’’ Milton wrote in this album two lines from his ‘‘ Comus,”’ and signed them Johannes Miltonius. The following is a /fac-simile of the lines and signature : if Vertue feeble Were Barven # Se WOK d Sloope to ber ee a bs) eae anink mube de Frans marge Cerro Annes Mipons ) of a Vaear4 ff _—_—————- Angie AUTOGRAPH OF JOHN MILTON.

Page 67

CHARLES SUMNER. The pedigree of this prize made its authen- ticity incontestable. It is now at Harvard, with the rest of Sumner’s literary treasures, and is described at length on pages four and five of Bulletin No. 6, issued by the Library of Harvard University, a pamphlet of twenty-eight pages, which gives a cata- logue vazsonné of such books and MSS. be- queathed by Sumner to the university ‘‘ as have bibliographical or other curious in- terest.’’ ‘ One of the folios the Senator delighted in showing appreciative visitors was the Sum- ma de Articulis Fidei et Ecclesiae Sacramentis. It was dated 1460 in the title, and was prob- ably printed by Gutenberg himself. The volume was bound in green crushed levant, lined with red morocco richly gilt. It had come from the library of that great collector, the Marquis de Morante, and had been sold for five hundred francs. It is now to be seen in the Sumner Collection in the Harvard Library, where it is accompanied by the usual evidences of authenticity. Though he had a platonic sort of love for music, he had little if any power of produ- cing it. He often hummed harmonies, but never a tune. He sometimes whistled over his work, but no approach to a namable melody could be recognized. He often at- tended the Thomas Concerts or those of others who were actual masters in music. Certain of the grand operas would excite his enthusiasm ; but Mozart seemed to have more power over him than others, and when “Don Giovanni’’ was sung in Baltimore, he would run over for the performance, if he could do so without neglecting a sitting of the Senate. Certain of his friends re- member the surprised tone in which he asked if they actually preferred Meyerbeer to Mozart. But it was not that he valued others less, but Mozart more. This is shown by the pains he took to acquire the MSS. of other composers. He used to show to those whom he felt would value them the first and the last pieces of Bellini in auto- graph, duly certified as authentic. He also had a part of Haydn’s opera of ‘‘ Armida,”’ the first score of which was in the author's own handwriting and a twenty-six page MS. of ‘‘ Solféges a deux voix égales,’’ by Jean Jacques Rousseau, in autograph, on the last page of which were the initials of the author. 411 But his study, or work room, as he was wont to call it, was as rich in engravings as in books and manuscripts. It was a large room on the second floor, with three windows looking out on Vermont Avenue, one of the widest in that part of the city, perhaps the most beautiful in Washington. At one end was his own huge desk full of drawers and pigeon-holes, with its long, wide, flat top always cumbered with papers. At the other end was his clerk’s desk. In the center of the room was another long, flat table. In corners were other tables of lesser size. And there, too, were a lounge and many chairs of different kinds. But all were loaded with books, letters, Congressional bills, docu- ments, and manuscripts. To seat a guest, it was often necessary to empty a chair by dumping its contents on the floor. He was systematic in his disorder,and could always find the paper or book he wanted, provided it had not been misplaced by another person. He even knew the stratum it occupied. Engravings covered the entire wall-space not taken by book-cases. They even hung on the door panels, and generally one or more leaned against a chair or table. The great reclining chair he used for reading stood by the center table with a swinging leaf attached for writing ; but he sat more often at his desk in a revolving chair, from which he could reach the books he called his tools on the movable book-case which was ranged behind him. He was wont to say that the pictures on the walls of this room were suggestions and inspirations. There were six, around which, as around centers, other pictures hung as if to define or illustrate them. Suyderhoef’s engraving of Terburg’s paint- ing of the ‘‘ Second Treaty of Westphalia,’ or the Peace of Miinster, hung in a prominent place. It shows the plenipotentiaries of Holland, Spain, and Austria uniting in the great treaty at the close of the Thirty Years’ War which settled the future policy of the Catholics and the Protestants and consti- tuted an epoch in the laws of nations. It represents the actual moment of the oath, and it gives the portraits of the people in the dress of the seventeenth century ; the dress of each person is the dress worn by the people of hisown country. The adherents of one faith swear with the three uplifted fingers, and those of the other bow the head and swear

Page 68

THE COSMOPOLITAN. on the book. Over the picture of the treaty hung that of the cathedral, and around it the portraits of several of the greatest of the people of that age, and pictures of the times, such as that of the ‘‘ Embarkation of the Pilgrims’’ and the old engraving en- titled ‘‘ Miseres de la Guerre,’’ after-Tennier. Over the Senator’s desk hung Godefroy’s engraving of ‘‘The Congress of Vienna,”’ showing the room in the Sch6nbrunn Palace where, in 1815, Napoleon was placed under the ban of the Empire. Every face is a portrait, and every portrait is of a man famous in war, diplomacy, or both. Nes- selrode speaks with Wellington, Metternich points to the full-length portrait of Maria Theresa, and through the open door is seen the bust of Kaunitz, the Bismarck of his time. This picture of the ‘Treaty of Vienna’’ is surrounded by pictures of various buildings, and is surmounted by that of the cathedral, all illustrating the architecture of the time, and on either side were pictures of Grotius and his wife. Blanchard’s engraving of Dubufe’s paint- ing of the ‘‘ Congress of Paris’’ hung over the mantel. There and then the map of Europe was remade after the fall of Sebastopol, and there and then was decreed the neutrality of the Black Sea. Then for the first time in history the Turk sat in solemn council with the Christian. Cavour, who had united into one the several countries of Italy, the Rus- sians Gortschakoff and Orloff, the wily Palmerston, with Clarendon, Walewski and Morny for France, appear in this picture, all in full costume, ail in action, all with face and expression well given. Perhaps one reason why Sumner took pains to procure an early copy of the en- graving of the ‘‘ Treaty of Paris’’ was his admiration for Cavour, who has such a prom- inent place in the picture. The Senator had met the great Italian when abroad seeking health in 1859, and he writes of him and the then perilous condition of affairs in one of the few letters I received from him during that absence, in such terms that an extract from it in the Senator’s handwriting is sub- joined. There also were Jazet’s engraving of Trum- bull’s painting of our own ‘‘ Declaration of Independence.’’ Near it hung Hall’s en- sraving of West’s painting of ‘‘Penn’s f'reaty with the Indians.’’ Here also was Jazet’s engraving of David's painting of the ‘* Jue de Paumme,’’ or the oath in the Tennis Court of 1789 at Versailles. And there were in other spaces other pictures of like value and like nature. No wonder the astute Turkish minister, who had represented the Porte at most of the courts of Europe, de- clared that, to enjoy an hour in the cadinet de travail of the Chairman of the Senate’s Committee on Foreign Affairs, he must be thoroughly versed in the ‘history of Euro- pean aswell as American diplomacy. When the Republican Party came into power in 1861, Mr. Sumner became Chair- man of the Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs, a position for which he was well fitted by his knowledge of the language, the history, and the literature of diplomacy, and by his personal acquaintance with many of those who controlled the affairs of state in other countries. As Chairman of the Com- mittee he was entitled to name the clerk, who was expected to act also as his private secretary, for as chairman he had the larger part of the committee work to do himself. There were many applicants for the clerk- ship, but the one whom the Senator felt most inclined to select was Major Ben: Per- ley Poore, the author and journalist, who was quite familiar with the French lan- guage, and having spent some time abroad, was well able to perform the duties of the position ; but before giving the Major the place he took means to assure himself that the applicant would not be objectionable to the other members of the committee, and Senators Breckinridge and Douglas were specially consulted in the matter. This con- sideration toward those who were politically in the minority was noticeable ; and it was especially so in Sumner, whose views in most matters, while he was in the minority, were entirely ignored. But Sumner took the line of quiet courtesy toward all members of his committee, and while he enforced parliamentary usage in session, treated all alike, and worked each member in committee matters to the extent of his ability. One of the first things he did was not only to expel the demijohns, bottles, and cigar-boxes kept in the committee room, but also to turn out the piece of furni- ture that served as a sideboard, and to re- place it with an additional work table, and quietly to give it to be understood that the

Page 69

Page 70

414 committee room could only be used as a working room by its members—truly a new order of things. Major Poore fully justified the Senator’s faith in him, making a model clerk both to the Committee and the Chairman, and win- ning golden opinions from all; but when he was ill in Georgetown, Sumner was the only one of all the Committee who cheered him by his personal presence. In those days there were no horse cars, and each trip took two hours of his time. Major Poore, after some years of service with Mr. Sum- ner, was promoted to a more lucrative posi- tion, but his relations with the Senator, though strained at times, were always those of warm friendship. He was the first it occurred to me to send for when the Sena- tor lay dying. * Perhaps something of the Senator’s kind- ness of heart may be well shown by his treat- ment of his succeeding clerks.when they were ill. One of them was suffering from an attack of fever and ague. He occupied a room in the Senator’s,house. The shakes were followed by a fever that had drenched the poor fellow in perspiration and left him exhausted. He had no knowledge of the peculiar nature of the disease, and thought himself very ill; but the Senator, who had seen him from time to time, pooh-poohed the idea, and urged him to rise, dress, and dine with him when he would meet some pleasant people. He tried to rise, but was too weak. The Senator said he would soon putstrength into him, and bringing a bottle of rare old Burgundy and a goblet of cracked ice, filled the glass; then raising the poor fellow’s head on his knee, he held the glass while the clerk drank the contents. Its effect was magical; it was a draft upon his latent strength, and he was enabled to appear at dinner and play his part well with his knife and fork, and to assist really in entertaining the guests present. Afterward, another of his clerks was tem- porarily ill, but so much so that he was forced to keep his bed. He had brought his wife and child with him, and they were liv- ing in such rooms as it was possible to ob- tain in Washington during the war. While they answered their purpose, they were not exactly fitted for the reception of visitors. * And he himself has passed away since the foregoing was written. THE COSMOPOLITAN. One day the lady was surprised and embar- rassed by finding the Senator at her door, smilingly demanding to see his sick friend. The clerk got well rapidly, and was soon able to attend to his business again, and he felt that the call was‘made in all kindness and sympathy. At one time his private secretary became quite ill and remained so for some weeks. The Senator kept himself well informed as to his condition, and when he began to get bet- ter, arranged for him a long trip into health- giving regions; and finding that financial reasons precluded the taking of the pre- scribed journey, he sent him a check as an advance payment for future services. The invalid was as much encouraged by the Sen- ator’s evident belief that he would certainly be able to resume his functions as by the trip itself; at any rate, between the two he recovered his strength, and his family attri- buted his recovery largely to the Senator's kindness. He not only visited the sick, but those also who were in prison. The New Bedford schooner called the ‘‘Pearl,’’ sailed for the North in 1848 from Washington with sev- enty-six escaping slaves on board. She was pursued and brought back, the slaves were sent to their owners, and the captain, Mr. Drayton, with the mate, Mr. Sayres, were imprisoned in the Washington City jail for having the negroes on board of their vessel. Mr. Sumner often visited these poor men, and he also did what he could for their comfort. He often visited Messrs. White and Ramsdell,* of the New York 7ribune, who were imprisoned on the order of the Sen- ate for having obtained and published in their paper a treaty with England, known as the Washington Treaty, which was still under consideration in Executive session. He paid numerous visits to Thaddeus Hyatt, who was imprisoned for months in the Wash- ington jail for refusing to answer the ques- tions of the Committee of which Jefferson Davis, then a Senator, was chairman, rela- tive to John Brown's raid on Harper’s Ferry. He often visited others who also in his opin- ion were improperly incarcerated. He had little time for mere social calls; and the time came finally when his own strength left him to such an extent that he availed *Homer J. Ramsdell died in Washington since this paper was written.

Page 71

CHARLES himself of the privilege of the oldest member of the Senate—Pater Senatus he was called— and he seldom returned a call, and hardly made one except from time to time upon a sick friend, or when the exigencies of eti- quette made it extremely necessary. Speaking of Drayton and Sayres recalls Mr. Sumner's energetic and successful efforts in their behalf. They had been held under no less than one hundred and fifteen. indict- ments. Despite the efforts of Horace Mann, then a Representative from Massachusetts, who defended them in court, they had re- ceived the extreme penalty of the law, and had been sentenced to what was practically imprisonment for life. Though they were objects of much sympathy at the North, they received no mercy at the hands of their jailors. Mr. Sumner gave their case the ben- efit of his practical mind. Hedid not further inflame local public opinion against them by the presentation to Congress of the peti- tion signed by the leading Abolitionists of the North, including Wendell Phillips, which was sent him for that purpose ; but he ap- pealed to President Fillmore to pardon them, and laid before him at his request (the President having asked for more light on the subject) such a paper on the President's power in the matter that Attorney-General Crittenden, to whom it was referred, gave an opinion affirming the power of the President, adding, however, ‘‘ Whether the power shall be exercised is another and very different question.”’ This opinion was dated August 4, 1852, and shortly after the pardon was granted. Drayton and Sayres had then remained in prison—and oh, what a prison !—more than four years, and there was reason to be- lieve that an attempt would be made to re-arrest them on warrants issued by the Governor of Virginia. In fact, Sumner had received information that the Marshal of the District of Columbia would be served with warrants for them as soon as they were released from his custody. The then marshal, Dick Wallach, as he was famil- iarly called. an old Whig, with a big heart, while he was in full sympathy with slave- holders, was without sympathy for slave- drivers. He thought these men had been sufficiently punished, and he did not propose to lend himself to their further persecution. In some way he and Sumner came to an SUMNER. 415 understanding upon the subject, and the result was, that when the prisoners were released, they were furnished with clothing which, while not a disguise, certainly would not betray them ; and it was arranged that they should be provided with a carriage which was to take them to a station outside the city where they could board the train. While they were waiting for the carriage, word came, as is now believed, from Mar- shal Wallach himself, that the stratagem had been discovered and that officers with warrants were on the watch to apprehend them at Bladensburg, where they were to take the cars. Thereupon the Senator took steps to procure a hack which should take them all the way to Baltimore, about forty miles, and he found a man, now a well-known wealthy citizen of Washington, then a young struggling clerk of the National Era news- paper, who mounted the hack with the driver, ostensibly to show him the way, but really to keep him. in it, which he did, but not without the help of a revolver, and these men were taken at the Senator’s expense to Baltimore and shipped by different railroads to their eastern homes, which they ulti- mately reached in safety. Dr. Holland, in summing up Sumner’s character in an article evidently intended to be appreciative and friendly, wrote: ‘‘ He was arrogant, dictatorial,imperious. . . The North had been browbeaten by a band of accustomed legislators, who understood the use of arrogance. To this Mr. Sumner had the privilege and power to oppose a nature and temper so wonderfully self-as- sured and self-sufficient that no headway could be made against him.’’ This may have beentrue at times and in places. While he was in a hopeless minority, he had been habituated to think and decide for himself. He had known nothing of the difficulty of determining between the right and the expedient. During his early days in the Senate the expedient to him was seldom right. When his party came into power, what was at first a custom had become a habit. He carefully thought out his course, then announced it, and then followed it without consultation, and with- out reference to his party. His party— why, for many years, he himself was his party and for that matter he still was. If he was a leader, it was because others fol-

Page 72

416 lowed. If his following was large, he was glad that so many were convinced of the right; if small, he was sad accordingly; but he still went straight on. That the Republican Party preferred the expedient did not change his position. His constant attitude was that he was right, and that those who disagreed with him were wrong. He would argue to convince so long as the question was, as to whether his course was or was not right, but when the abstract question was granted, and the ques- tion of policy was raised, he would rage like a wounded lion, and he seemed to consider that he had received a personal insult. ‘‘What ! palter with conscience, with the right ; do you appreciate the infamy of what you propose?’’ he has said. ‘‘ But,’’ would be the reply, ‘‘ I propose to you nothing but postponement. This is not the time for such action, it would be inexpedient now.”’ And he would break in, ‘‘ If it is right to do it, it is wrong to refrain from doing it,’’ or “It is always expedient to do right ;’’ or ‘‘I have never habituated myself to consider the safety of right-doing.’’ I have heard him reply to party leaders in a tone that would make my blood chill ; it seemed to me as if it must sever their personal relations ; it was a tone that was positively painful to hear ; but they knew him so well that they. did not let it affect them. Then, too, he had a way of treating con- gressmen, his familiar friends, with a seem- ing lack of common courtesy when they would break in on him as he was work- ing against time. He would eliminate from the conversation all the time-wasting con- ventionalities, but would answer their ques- tions with great cordiality of manner ; still he would at times let them go without greeting or farewell. But to others, often strangers, he was all courtesy, kindness, and consideration, often at the expense of valuable time. He would deny himself to no one, holding that a public man should always be accessible to the public. He would admit people up to two o’clock in the morning, or as long as he was out of bed ; but he made many who came to him idly feel that they had not done well to come at all. He has been styled impracticable, and this has been a source of complaint against him _ by party managers. THE COSMOPOLITAN. His party ties sat loosely upon him, and it has been said that he was often more hinderance than help to mere politicians. But the fact is, that he was a law unto himself, and would not ac- cept of dictation from others. He would ranSack all the authorities in every accessi- ble language. He would consult, and con- sult, and consult anybody and everybody, however high or low, whom he thought could throw any light on the subject he was studying. He weighed conflicting testi- mony with anxious care, often tabulating it in parallel columns and striking out what could be eliminated, till he could almost il- lustrate his ideas by diagram. But when he had thus slowly worked out his position, and had taken it, he could not be moved. He was adamant. But he was never an irrational enthusiast. While he was con- stantly dominated by his high moral senti- ment, he was never a mere idealist. He had a hearty contempt for subordinating great principles to supposed party exigen- cies, but he always took into account what was wise, timely, and practicable. He was a statesman rather than a politician, and yet few equaled him in the sphere of high politics. And withal Sumner was eminently prac- tical. By many he has not been so con- sidered. But that is mainly because he put the success of his principles before per- sonal success. He was content to suggest a measure and leave to others its formu- lation. It was his custom to advance his standard at the beginning of a session by offering a series of resolutions, proposing measures so far in the advance of public opinion that they sometimes appeared chi- merical. Frequently the session would pass without reference to one of them. But he was content to let them take time, as he once said, to soak into the public mind. And if some one else would present his thought in different shape, he would never invite op- position to it by claiming it as his own, especially when he was in the minority. He was not persistent as to details. He did not adhere to the maxim that half a loaf is better than no bread, but rather to that other saying, that it is the first step that costs, and especially to the idea that revolutions never go backward.

Page 73

‘‘A DOOR MUST BE EITHER OPEN OR SHUT.” A DRAWING-ROOM COMEDY. By BERR DE TURIQUE. CHARACTERS: MONSIEUR AND MADAME. | .Wonsieur is about twenty-eight, and Madame twenty. Monsieur may be light or dark, fall or short, ugly or handsome, at the dis- cretion of the reader. It is stipulated, how- ever, that he must have an agreeable smile, a stylish appearance, and an easy manner that invites confidence and sympathy. Madame may also be either blonde or brunette, tall or short, but she must be pretty. The draw- ing-room where the action takes place may be furnished in any style the reader pleases, or in no Style at all, but must be provided with at least two chairs. Between the chairs there must be a table of violet-ebony, or mahogany, or plain wood, and upon which a copy of the ‘‘ Proverbs”’ of Alfred de Musset must be seen lying.| ball costume). Eleven o’clock! I am certain Emma is not dressed yet. Dress—that overpowering, everlasting subject of a woman’s medita- tions. (Anocks at the door of his wife’s room.) Are you ready yet, my dear? (Liséens.) No? not yet? Well! make haste. It has just struck eleven, and at twelve you know the Minister always retires to his private apartments and leaves his attachés to receive the guests who come after that hour. Now I must shake hands with him, and besides, I want especially to present you to him. (Turns the door-knob.) You don’t want me to come in? Why not? (ZLéstens.) You want to surprise me? How nice! I like to be surprised. I am sure you must look charming in a ball dress. (Listens.) You are sure of it? Well! so much the better. (After a pause.) You have no idea, Emma, how excited I am. (ZListens.) Why? you want to kuow why? Because I am about to take you to your first ball. We have now been married six months, and this is the first ball we have attended together. (Listens.) You say that you are not excited? Well! it’s quite natural that you should not MONSIEUR (entering in be. All through life men and women look at the same things from different points of view, and I dare say——_(Lis¢ens.) You wish I wouldn’t talk so much? (Léstens again.) My chatter disconcerts your maid, who is sticking pins in your shoulders instead of your corsage. Poor corsage——no, pardon, I mean poor shoulders! (Léstens.) You wish I would go sit down? Well! I’ll go, but don’t keep me waiting long. (He looks through the key-hole.) 1 am looking through the key-hole. Don’t do it? Oh! I didn’t see anything. Justine was in the way. (He sits down.) It will take her a good half- hour yet, and meantime I can amuse my- self as best I may. Oh, women! Oh, gowns! Oh, pins! Oh, hair-dressers! Oh, the tediousness of waiting! There is noth- ing like the preparations for a ball to put one out of humor. If I did not deem it necessary to be seen at this reception of the Minister’s—if it were not impera- tive that I should not allow him to for- get me—I would stay quietly at home with Emma. MADAME (entering in a dress cut very low, with curls on her forehead, and a smile on her lips). Here I am! Now, sir, look at me, con- template me. Are you not proud of your wife? Didn’t I say I was going to surprise you? MONSIEUR (rises and is going toward Ma- dame, but stops short in the utmost astonish- ment). Why, you are outrageously décolletée. It’s simply shocking. MADAME. Shocking? I don’t think so. MONSIEUR. But you’re not dressed. MADAME. I am overdressed. MonsieEvr. Is it the fashion to expose yourself like that ? MADAME. My dress is not cut any lower than all the other dresses. I don’t know what youmean. Perhaps you’ve never been to a ball. MonsIEUR. How absurd! Yes, madame, I have been, and frequently. You don’t seem to remember that the first time I met

Page 74

418 you was at a ball ; and you were not so gen- erous in exhibiting your charms then. MADAME. No, monsieur. I was not so dé- colletée, that is true, since I was then a young girl, and young girls do not dress like mar- ried women. If you talk that way, perhaps I had better remove the diamonds from my ears. I had only two little pearl clusters be- fore I met you. MONSIEUR. Let your ears alone. MADAME. Do you think I propose throw- ing them in your face? ° MonsiEurR. Oh! if you are going to be witty. MADAME. Then I had better conceal every- thing—my wit as well as my shoulders. MonslIEvrR. A truce to jesting. I assure you, my dear, that your dress is cut too low. MADAME. From what point of view? MONSIEUR. From the point of view of your shoulders—and from the point of view—the point of—of—view—— MADAME. I have met many married wom- en at balls, and I do not believe that I am dressed any differently from them. I am sure, in fact, that I am dressed precisely like them. Look at me and try to recollect what you have seen. front. MONSIEUR. Emma, dome a favor. a different corsage. MADAME. Mon ami, what you ask of me is impossible. MONSIEUR. How so? MADAME. Because I have no other that suits me as well as this one. MONSIEUR. Well, then, put on one that doesn’t suit you so well. MADAME. Frédéric, I assure you you an- noy me. And I was so glad to be able to go to the ball to show this very corsage, and I thought you’d think me charming. MONSIEUR. Well, you were quiteright. I do think you charming—too charming. That is precisely what frightens me. MADAME. I kept saying to myself, ‘‘ How he will admire it !’’ MoNnsIEvR. I certainly do admire it, and the only criticism I make is, that there is not enough of it. MADAME. But you can’t persuade me that my dress-maker don’t know her business. She makes gowns for Mme. de Fantillane and Mme. de Kampodas. A dress must be open in Put on THE COSMOPOLITAN. MONSIEUR. I won’t deny it. MADAME. Well, she said to me no longer ago than yesterday : ‘‘ Madame, your corsage is just perfect.”’ MonsIEvur. Oh! she told you so? MADAME. ‘‘I have never succeeded better with a corsage. It hasn't a single fault. It’s perfect. If anything, though, the ‘cuirass’ might be criticised a trifle.’’ Monsieur. ‘‘Cuirass!’’ What queer ex- pressions your dress-maker uses. MapaMmeE. “ That is the sloping down. If you would have allowed, Madame, I would have had the waist cut still lower.”’ MONSIEUR (sarcastically). Oh! then you didn’t allow her? MADAME. No, and I see now that I was wrong. (Looking at herself in a glass.) Iam not quitedécolletée enough. Another “‘line”’ would have been about right. I am sure that Mme. de Fantillane will have at least four ‘‘ lines’’ more, to say nothing about the ‘‘ruching ;’’ for I’m sure she won’t have any ‘‘ruching.”’ MONSIEUR (indifferently). Possibly. MADAME. As to Mme. de Kampodas, I won’t say anything about her, she always exaggerates so. That, however, doesn’t pre- vent her having the pick of all the good dan- cers. MonsIeEvr. I can quite believe that. MADAME. During the six months that we have been married, you have had an oppor- tunity to judge of me at your leisure. You know very well that I am not a coquette; that I do not strive after the applause of the fashionable world, and that, above and be- yond all, I do not seek to win it by eccen- tricity in dress. Rest assured, then, that if I had the slightest fear that my corsage would expose me to ridicule, I should not wear it. MonsIEuUR (goes to Madame and takes her hand). I implore you, Emma, change this dress. MADAME It’s a persecution, then. Monsieur. No, only a petition. MADAME. Well! I might have saved all the trouble I took in thinking about my dress three weeks beforehand. You talked of nothing but this ball. ‘‘I want people to admire you,”’ you kept saying. ‘‘ When I told the Minister that I was married,’’ you said, ‘*he seemed to think that I was too young ; I want to prove to him that if I married young, I had a good reason for it. Make

Page 75

“A DOOR MUST BE EITHER OPEN OR SHUT.” yourself very handsome.’’ You added, ‘ As handsome as possible.’’ I obeyed you; I did. all I could to show off my good looks, and now you areangry. Ah! mon ami, you are trying to pick a quarrel with me. Iam afraid this corsage is only a pretext, and that behind it there is some other reason that I do not even suspect—a reason—a reason that——-! Ah! mon ami, you vex me more than you can tell—more than you can tell ! (Madame drops intoa chair and wipes her eves with a lace handkerchief.) MONSIEUR (kneeling before her and taking her hands). Come, Emma. MADAME (greatly moved). No, you must admit that I am not outrageously décolletée. MONSIEUR (somewhat penitent). I admit it. MADAME (gradually becoming more af- fected). You must admit, too, that it is not as ‘‘shocking’’ as you said it was. MONSIEUR (more and more penitent). I ad- mit it. MADAME (rising and suddenly recovering her equanimity). Let us start, then. MONSIEUR (thunderstruck). But—— MADAME. Since you admit that you were wrong, let us go; we are already very late. MONSIEUR. Emma—— MADAME. What, again? MONSIEUR (approaching her and putting his arm around her waist). I love you. MADAME. I know it, but we are late and the Minister retires early. MONSIEUR (keeping his arm around her waist and following out his train of thought). I love you, and when one loves, one is jeal- ous. MADAME. I don’t understand. MonsIEuR. Yes, I know very well that you are not outrageously décolletée—on the contrary ; and that it is not as shocking as I said—quite otherwise. The simple truth is, I am—am jealous ! MADAME. You don’t seem so. MONSIEUR. Since our marriage we have lived in a seclusion that nothing has dis- turbed; no one has come between us. I adore you—Heaven alone knows how much ! And if I am right in adoring you, Heaven alone knows why. Now, when we received the invitation for this ball, I confess that I had not thought much about it. I only re- flected how pleasant it would be to show you to people, on my arm, like a miser who, proud of his hoard, in a moment of weakness, 419 permits himself to allow it to be seen. But this evening you appeared to me so much more charming, so much more beautiful, than usual, that the miser has recovered his senses, he fears lest his gold may tempt some robber, and—closes his strong-box ! MADAME. I don’t understand. MonsI!IeEvr. Do you not understand that in the salons where I was about to present you for the first time, all eyes would be fixed upon you? Do you not understand that you would be ogled, discussed, judged, weighed in the balances of social opinion, gauged, and that all this frightens me? All the dancers, all the attachés of the embassy would stare at you, and, if you’ll pardon the expression, pick you to pieces. To-morrow your name would go the rounds of Paris. MADAME. Well? MonsIevr. I can imagine the talk of these budding diplomatists. ‘‘Did you see de Briol’s wife at the ball yesterday ?’’ ‘‘ Yes.’’ ‘‘ What did youthinkofher?’’ ‘Oh! very chic/’’ ‘**Did you notice her shoulders ?’’ ‘“‘A dream !’’ ‘‘And her arms?’’ ‘‘ Won- derful!’’ ‘‘Andherneck?’’ ‘Perfection !”’ MADAME. You don’t wish them to say that my shoulders are ‘‘a dream,’’ my arms ‘* wonderful,’ and my neck ‘‘ perfection ’’ ? MonsIEvuR. No, Idon’t. Say that I am stu- pid, foolish, mad, if you will. Declare that my jealousy is puerile and my fears ridicu- lous, laugh and sneer at me if you like, but admit that if I offend it is through excess of love and—grant my request. MADAME. Then you are afraid I shall be too highly complimented? Monsieur. Iam afraid they will think you too well dressed. If I am proud of being the husband of a woman whois acknowledged to be beautiful, I am afraid of being the hus- band of a woman who has the reputation of resorting to artifices to heighten her beauty. I deem your dress too extravagant, too ec- centric. I wouldn’t for the world have you spoken of as ‘‘a professional beauty,’’ nor myself referred to as ‘‘the husband of the beautiful Madame So and So.’’ On a young wife’s first appearance in society and on the manner in which she conducts herself, de- pends the entire current of opinion that will be formed regarding her, and which can hot subsequently be changed; besides, public opinion about women will sometimes bé de- cided by so slight a thing as a dress buttoned

Page 76

420 too high or a corsage cut too low. The mat- ter is decided—no resource—no appeal ! Madame is a coquette, and that ends it. In vain she worships her husband, shows her- self to be one of the most modest of women. She is set down as a coquette, and will always be one in the public esteem, while Monsieur will always be—the husband of a coquette! The promotion that he may re- ceive by dint of hard work and intelligence will be due to his wife in the opinion of the public, and he will not have the slightest suc- cess in life, nor ever turn up the king at écarté, without some one’s whispering, ‘‘ Par- bleu! it’s the husband of the beautiful Madame So and So.’”’ I entreat you, Emma, to change that corsage. }:ADAME. You are a great baby, but I won't vex you. (Goes out.) MonsrieEvR. (A/one.) I may be wrong. Per- haps she was not too décolletée. The fact is, that if I had not been her husband, I would not have thought her too décolletée. Still, I fancied that the corsage was somewhat exag- gerated, and exaggeration in that direction I ought not as a husband to tolerate. How- ever charming my wife may be, I don’t care to have her talked about. A wife’s beauty is for her husband, and doesn’t concern the pub- lic. At the same time, I don’t want Emma to look like a fright, nor be less well-dressed than her neighbors. My wife is pretty, and though I don’t care to hear people say, ‘* How handsome she is !’’ neither do I care to hear them exclaim, ‘‘Oh! how plain.’’ (Sits down.) MADAME (veturning after having put on a dark gown not at all décolletée, and with her hair dressed plainly). Does this suit you bet- ter? MONSIEUR (rising and going toward her, but suddenly stopping). Why, you are not décolletée at all now ! MADAME. Of course not. MonsIeEvuR. Your dress is buttoned up to the chin. MADAME. Isn’t that far enough, or must I hide the chin as well ? MONSIEUR. Now you are laughing at me. MADAME. God forbid, mon ami/ But what do you wish? I have not thirty-six corsages of different styles. You did not want my dress to be open, so I have put on one that is high in the neck. THE COSMOPOLITAN. MonsIEvR. But is there no middle course between the two extremes? MADAME. No. Dresses are like doors— they must be either open or shut. When only ajar, people can see through, and they admit draughts. Since you are so much afraid that my shoulders, my arms, and my neck should become the subjects of not over- respectful remarks, I have taken care to put them out of sight. MonsIEur. In other words, you have re- placed the jewel in its casket. MADAME. Why, I did not think you could be so complimentary this evening. MONSIEUR. But you are making yourself ridiculous. MADAME. How so? MonsIEvuR. The idea of a young married woman not wearing a low-neck dress at a ball. MADAME. They may think that I have very good reasons for not being décolletée ; but what do you care about that? You know very well what inference will be drawn. MONSIEUR (impatiently). Oh! nonsense. MADAME. It isn’t nonsense at all. You are quite well aware how they will whisper and chatter and make ill-natured observa- tions about my lack of physical attractions, which deficiency, they will say, compels me to wear high-neck dresses ; but you will have the consolation of knowing that the dandy attachés will not burst forth in exclamations of admiration. No one will say: ‘‘Oh, a dream ! oh, wonderful! oh, perfection !”’ They’ll be more likely to exclaim : ‘‘ Well! well!! well!!!’’ or rather, ‘‘ That is amaz- ing,’’ or still more probably : ‘‘ Poor man !”’ But of what importance are such trifling criticisms ? MONSIEUR. I assure you, Emma, that you can not go to the ball in this dress. MADAME. Still I must go! and I have only two corsages. The one I put on first dis- pleased you; so this one should, in conse- quence, be to your liking. MONSIEUR. But—— MADAME, What do you care about people’s criticisms? It’s only compliments that you are afraid of. MONSIEUR. Come, now, Emma—— MADAME. Remember what you said: ‘‘I am not afraid that they will compliment you too much, but that they will consider you too well dressed.’’

Page 77

‘‘4 DOOR MUST BE EITHER OPEN OR SHUT.” MonsIEuR (greatly embarrassed). But—— MADAME (continuing in the same tone). ‘‘ If I am proud of being the husband of a woman who is acknowledged to be beautiful, I am afraid of being the husband of a woman who has the reputation of resorting to artifices to heighten her beauty.’’ Make yourself easy ; no one will ever imagine that I callin the aid of art to assist nature. Monsieur. This is pure obstinacy. MADAME. ‘‘I deem your dress too extrav- agant, too eccentric.’’ You see the one I have on is neither extravagant nor eccentric. MONSIEUR (nerving himself to a desperate vesolution). Emma, put your other corsage on again. MADAME. You don’t mean it? Are you not afraid of my becoming known as ‘‘a profes- sional beauty,’’ and you yourself gaining the sobriquet of ‘‘ the husband of the handsome Mme. Soand So’’? And the gossip that would not fail to be bandied about from lip to lip, and the circumstances in which you would be referred to as ‘‘ the husband of a coquette’’ ? Remember that then you could not obtain the slightest advancement in your profession as a government official, or take all the tricks at whist, without some one whispering behind her fan : ‘‘ Pardleu / It’s the husband of the beautiful Madame So and So!’’ On the other hand, dressed as I am now, no one would doubt but that I am al- most deformed, and on the occurrence of each lucky event in your career the general opin- ion would be that, with such a wife, you were fairly entitled to all the gifts the gods might send you. MONSIEUR (furiously.) And they will add that I married you not because I loved you, but on account of your dowry. MADAME. Ah! you admit it! And then see what an immense advantage. No one will trouble themselves to hang around me, as they do sometimes when young married women are passably good-looking. They will leave me quietly in my corner, and the general verdict will be: ‘‘ A pleasing face—but better not go into particulars.’’ But don’t pity me. IfIam not considered fit for a sculptor’s model, I shall, by common consent, be endowed with all sorts of mental and moral good qualities. MonsIEuR. Emma, I beg of you, put on your other dress. This one is frightful ; it makes you look seventy years old. 421 MADAME (wth decision). Impossible. Monsieur (still more decidedly). Put on your other dress. I will have it. I insist on it. MADAME (/eigning to be greatly moved). You wish it? You insist on it? Oh! I understand ! You propose objecting here- after to everything I may happen to wear. You are trying your best to vex me. Ah! mon ami, I am very unhappy. (Madame sinks into the same chair, and wipes her eves with the same lace handkerchief as before.) MonsIEUR (aside). Here she is crying again. (Falls on his knees before Madame and takes her hands.) MADAME (apparently very much affected). No, you must admit that my dress is not so frightful as you try to make out. MONSIEUR (fenitent). I admit it. MADAME (apparently becoming more and more affected). You must admit, too, that it doesn’t make me look as if I were seventy. MonsikEuR (sti/l more penitent). I ad- mit it. MADAME (recovering her eyguanimity with wonderful celerity). Well, then, let us start! MonsIEUR (dumbfounded). But—— MADAME. Since for the second time you admit that you are altogether in the wrong, let us go. Weare certainly late enough. MonsI!EuR (who is quite hors de combat). Still—— MADAME. We must make haste, for we are very late. You seem to forget that the Minister retires early. (A clock is heard striking midnight.) MONSIEUR. You may add that at this very moment he is on the point of taking leave of his guests. MADAME. Then we shall not see him. Monsieur. Certainly not. And if you agree with me, since we have been disap- pointed in the object for which we were going—— MADAME. We had better remain at home, you are going to say. MONSIEUR (very tenderly). Yes, I wish you would do me that favor. MADAME. Would it please you? Monsieur. I should be delighted! What an agreeable ending for an evening not begun in the pleasantest way imaginable. (Aside.) And the debate on the corsage question would stand adjourned. MapDaME. I yield to your request this

Page 78

422 time, but you know that Mme. Kampodas gives a ball next week. I wish to have it understood that you now admit that I know how to dress myself in a becoming manner. MonsIeEur. I admit it most utreservedly. THE COSMOPOLITAN. remind you of your admission later on. Meantime, go take off your dress-coat. MonsieEvR. That is just what I was going to do, my dear. (Goes to the door, returns to Madame, kisses her hands, and says, laugh- MADAME. Well! that is settled. I will <czg/y,) Emma, take off that dress ! YO’ MAM. By B. ZIM. Yo’ mammy, chil’, w’en she laid down ’er knitt’n’, In de cornde’ obe’ da’ wuz a-humm’n’ ’n a-sitt’n’— A-sitt’n’ ’n a-knitt’n’ ’n a-say’n’— "N she say: ‘‘ Dese socks dey’s a-gwine t’ be wa’m ; good ’n wa’m. De groun’ et am col’ ’N you’s grow’n’ ole ’’— Sez yo’ mam w’en she laid down ’er knitt’n’. She jes’ drap off jes’ like she wuz a-think’n’ ’T wuz time t’ shet ’er eyes ’n stop ’m a-blink’n’— A-sitt’n ’n a-knitt’n’ ’n a-say’n’— A-say’n’: ‘‘ Dese socks dey’s a-gwine t’ be wa’m ; good ’n wa’m. De groun’ et am col’ ’N you’s grow’n’ ole’’ — Sez yo’ mam w’en she laid down ’er knitt’n’. I’se wore’d dem socks t’ de meet’n’ ’n de pray’n’, ’N hea’d dat v’ice—’n nuth’n’ else—a-say’n’— Yo’ mam a-knitt’n’ ’n a-say’n’— A-say’n’: ‘‘Dese socks dey’s a-gwine t’ be wa’m ; good ’n wa’m. De groun’ et am col’ "N you’s grow’n’ ole’’ — Sez yo’ mam w’en she laid down 'er knitt’n’. Et mek no diffunce—en de highe’ low fedde’ I see ’er a-sitt’n’— en all kin’ a-wedde’— A-sitt’n’ en de cornde’ ’n a-say’n’— A-say’n’: ‘‘Dese socks dey’s a-gwine t’ be wa’m ; good 'n wa’m. De groun’ et am col’ ’N you’s grow’n’ ole’’— Sez yo’ mam w’en she laid down ’er knitt’n’. Chile! chile! dey’s a-mos’ played out—dey’s ole ’n po’ ’n hole-y ; ’N so’s de ole man,—he’s a-feel’n’ ve’y poo’ly. (A-sitt'n’ 'n a-knitt'n’ ’n a-sayn'’— A-say'n’: ‘‘Dese socks dey’s a-gwine t’ be wa’m ; good ’n wa’m. De groun’ et am col’ ’"N you's grow’n’ ole’'— Sez yo’ mam w’en she laid down ’erknitt’n’.)

Page 79

THE YOUNG FOLKS. THE LAPLANDER’S WEALTH. By Mrs. S. L. CLAYEs. M ANY of my readers know, I dare say, A a good deal about the reindeer, upon which the Laplander depends in such various ways. It is far more valuable than any other species of deer, and is the only one that has been domesticated and made ser- viceable by man. It is a native of far northern countries, where any other gram- inivorous animal would fail to find suf- ficient food to preserve its life. The rein- deer, however, not only subsists, but thrives, while feeding upon one or two kinds of moss or lichens, and the buds of certain species of Arctic plants. When full grown, the males are from four and a half to five feet high, with slender, branching antlers, which are flattened at the ends and often more than four feet long. Their feet are marked immediately above the hoofs by a band of white, but the hoof itself is broad, black, and cloven. The two halves, spreading apart when the weight of the animal falls upon them, prevent it from sinking in the snow. When lifted, they strike against each other with a loud click that can be heard at a considerable distance. These animals are the Laplander’s only wealth, his riches being counted by the number of reindeer he possesses. If he owns a thousand, he is a very wealthy man; with two or three hundred, he is independent, if his family is not too large ; but if he has no more than one hundred, he is considered poor. He uses every part of the animal. Its skin forms his clothing, and no garments could be found better fitted to resist the ter- rible cold of an Arctic winter than those made of reindeer fur. One naturalist tells us: ‘‘The hairs composing their coat are in- deed so thick that it is hardly possible by separating them in any way to discover the least portion of the naked hide.’’ Another says that a suit of clothing made of deer- skin, with the fur on it, is ‘‘so impervious to the cold that, with the addition of a blanket of the same material, a person may bivouac on the snow with safety in the most intense cold of an Arctic winter’s night.’’ In color their coat is of a dusky brown above, and grayish white beneath. It is always of a deeper hue in summer than in winter ; and the little fawns are darker than the full-grown deer. Indeed, the fur becomes gray as the reindeer grows old, and some- times becomes quite white at the last. The hair on the under side of the neck is much longer than that of any other part of the animal, making something that answers as a sort of mane, although it does not grow in quite the right place. The Laplanders use the tendons of the animal for thread; and the flesh, which is excellent, forms their principal food. Just underneath the skin, upon the back of the male, is a thick layer of fat, and the flesh and fat are often eatenraw. Like our cows, these useful creatures furnish their owners with milk, and, though each doe yields but a small quantity, it is of a wonderful rich- ness. A herd at milking time is said to be a pretty sight. The girls run about among them with their milking-pails, going from one doe to another, while the men keep each quiet as it is milked, by means of a bark halter thrown around the antlers. The little fawns, which are very weak and helpless at their birth, when feeding upon this rich milk of their mothers, gain in strength so rapidly as to become capable of following the herd and caring for themselves by the time they are four weeks old. The Laplanders have still another use for their reindeer, harnessing them, as we do our horses, to sledges, in which they draw their owner or his possessions over the snow. They are very fleet, and, although they are capable of performing long journeys without rest, they are always permitted, if it be pos- sible, when going any considerable distance, to stop and graze from time to time upon the moss that forms their principal food. Their sense of smell is so keen that they can detect its odor, even through the deepest snow,

Page 80

424 which they will scrape away with horn, hoof, and snout, eating the scanty growth beneath with the greatest apparent relish. As nature has kindly covered their feet, foreheads, and noses with an unusually tough skin, they are able to remove this frozen snow and ice without injury to themselves. Like every other part of the animal, this thick skin is utilized by the Laplander, who finds in it an almost fabulously durable material for a cov- ering for his feet. Reindeer are always driven in pairs, and are remarkably quiet in harness. With two yoked together before his sledge, a Lap- lander, it is claimed, will travel more than one hundred English miles ina day. M. Pictet, a French gentleman, made some ex- periments to ascertain the speed that rein- deer were capable of. In these trials they were driven only short distances, and the highest rate attained was that of a little less than nineteen miles per hour. However, at the Palace of Drotingholm in Sweden, there is a finely painted portrait of a rein-, deer, which is said to have once drawn an officer carrying important dispatches the in- credible distance of eight hundred English miles in forty-eight hours, dropping down dead upon its arrival at the end of the journey. Reindeer are excellent swimmers. Their bodies are extremely buoyant in water; THE WATCHING THE COSMOPOLITAN. this, with the great size of their feet, enables them to swim easily andto make rapid way even across strong currents. Like the buffalo of our plains, they vanish at the approach of civilized man, and are useful only to the more savage tribes. They are endowed by nature with an acute sense of hearing, as well as smell; this, with their great speed and activity, enables them to escape from many of their larger enemies. When attacked by wolves, they defend them- selves by kicking furiously, and very seldom fail to conquer when assailed by a single wolf. There are, however, insect enemies, from whose persecutions they suffer much in the summer season. One of these is more troublesome, and perhaps even more dan- gerous, to the reindeer than any of its foes of larger growth. This is a kind of gad-fly, which penetrates the skin of the deer, under- neath which it lays its eggs. A painful in- flammation follows. After the larve are hatched, they remain feeding upon the flesh of the poor animal until they become perfect insects with wings, when at last they con- sent to fly away. Reindeer have a great dread of this insect, and often migrate to the woods and mountains in summer to escape its attacks. Indeed, it is said that the mere sound of its hum is sufficient to put a whole herd to flight. OF THE FALCON. THE END OF AN OLD TALE. By CLARA F. GUERNSEY. PART II. i the opening of the wall rose a long, nar- row staircase of black stone, up which Olof bounded three steps at atime. At the top was a small circular room, lined with precious marbles, and on the opposite side was a lofty door-way, from which hung a curtain wrought in silk and gold. ‘*Is she in there ?”’ whispered Olof to the falcon, suddenly stopping short and twisting his yellow mustache. ‘‘I can’t go rushing in upon her like this. She'll think I’m a savage.”’ ** Well, I declare !"’ said the falcon, for be- ing a hen falcon she understood the case in a second. ‘‘ Not scared by a demon, and afraid of a young lady.”’ ‘‘A demon is one thing and a young lady is another,’’ said Olof, coloring. ‘*Go ahead, I tell you,’”’ said the falcon, imperiously. ‘‘He’ll carry her off if you don’t hurry.”’ Thus urged on, Olof lifted the curtain softly. Before him was a room more mag- nificent than anything the Sea King had ever seen, all shining with silk and gold, precious stones, metals, and jewels ; but Olof had eyes for nothing but a couch beneath a lofty window of colored glass, where a lady

Page 81

THE WATCHING OF THE FALCON. lay, as it seemed, in deep sleep. A long robe of pale green silk fell about her slender shape, beneath which peeped one little gold sandaled foot. Her face was turned from him, but falling over the couch to the floor floated her long yellow hair. ‘‘Hurry!’’ said the falcon; ‘for those two doors across there lead into the future and the past, and that ivory portal in the corner to the land of dreams ; and if sheslips away through any of them, you’ll have hard work to follow.”’ Reverently and softly the Norseman drew near, but the falcon, knowing how little time there was for ceremony, flew circling over the lady’s head and screamed : ‘“Wake up! Wake up, quick !”’ Waked thus suddenly, the lady sprang to her feet, and throwing back her long hair gazed at the Sea King with wide-open gray eyes, her lips parted in wonder and alarm. She was fairer than any daughter of man Olof had ever seen, and his whole heart and soul went out to her, not only because of her wondrous beauty, but because on her sweet face he read deep sadness and hopelessness, and he longed to coinfort her and bring her into light and life. ‘* Are you ademon ?”’ said the lady, trem- bling, and laying her white hands on her heart, as if to still its beating. ‘*No, lady,’’ said Olof, finding his voice with some trouble. ‘‘I am a Norseman, Olof Hacon’s son of Ormswick.’’ ‘‘Rash, unhappy -nan!”’ said the lady, sadly. ‘‘ How did you come here to your destruction ?”’ ‘*T don’t think it will be my destruction,”’ said Olof, gathering courage, and more and more in love every minute. ‘‘I heard of thee, lady, and loved thee, and have come to ask thee to be my bride.”’ The fair lady was so overcome with Olof's audacity that she dropped to a seat on the couch, and could not find words to express her amazement. ‘* Sweet one,’’ said Olof, drawing a step nearer, ‘‘ by thy golden hair and thine eyes like the sea I know thee to be like myself— a child of the Aesir and Vanir—and to a cer- tainty not one of Freya’s daughters is fairer. I am the youngest of seven brethren, Vi- kings all. I am thecaptain over three long ships and many brave warriors, and I have won wealth anda name. If thou wilt come 34 425 with me, I will get myself land and lordship where thou shalt choose, for neither king nor emperor dare refuse what I and my six brethren ask. I will love thee and be faith- ful to thee all my days, for I am no rover, and till now I never loved woman. Wilt thou come ?’’ “Oh! oh!’’ cried the fay lady, coloring deeply. ‘‘I have been here eight hundred years, and nobody—zobody—ever talked like this to me before. Nop, never!’’ : ‘** Mistress,’’ said the falcon, ‘‘ that is be- cause nobody like him ever was here before. There are no directions about him in the book of spells. And, indeed, he doesn’t seem to care a copper for spells. You'll have to make up your mind without a precedent, but for my part I advise you to have him.”’ ‘“You faithless bird!’’ said the lady. ‘* How could you bring him here ?”’ ‘‘T didn’t; he brought me,’’ returned the falcon, justifying herself. ‘‘And he said he’d wring my neck if I didn’t come,’’ she added, making her story as big as she could, ‘‘and he broke down the door with his ax, and if the guardian Afreet had not scuttled into its hole, he would have stepped on it and scrunched it flat——’’ ‘*Audacious man!’’ said the fay lady. ‘‘Why didst thou not keep the watch as others have done?’’ ‘* Because, lady,’’ said Olof, ‘‘ from all I can find out, all the men who did that have come to grief. Besides, in the town by the sea I left my men, and they are a wild lot and need their captain’s hand, and I fear if Iam away too long, some of them may get drunk and burn the town, and so bring dis- honor on my word. Besides, it beseems bet- ter that I should wait on thee than to make thee come to me.”’ ‘* Dost thou not know,”’ said the lady, rais- ing her eyes, ‘‘that I am no earthly, but a ghostly, thing ?’’ But as she spoke the color ran over her face. ‘* That art thou not ?’’ said Olof, smiling. ‘*T have seen many a ghost, and their eyes do not shine and melt, nor their color come and go like thine. He who holds thee here may have told thee so, but believe me, thou arta woman of my race, a real thing, and no phantom.”’ ‘* Alas !’’ said the lady, ‘‘ hast thou never heard of the king of this land, and how I was compelled to be his ruin?”’

Page 82

426 ““ Lady,’’ said Olof, ‘‘ believe me, that king was a poor stick of a man to give up a bride like thee ataword. He was no lover, nor fit mate for thee. It is no wonder that he was beaten and driven out, for he never was cut out to be a leader, and he would have come to ruin if he had never seen thee.’’ ‘*But Iam under a spell,’’ said the lady, making no effort to defend the King of Ar- menia. “If by a spell you mean a rune,’’ said Olof. ‘‘ I know lots of them myself, and sing them sometimes when I work at the forge for fun ; but I put more trust in my g& and sword, and in the Allfather who has given me strength to wield them.”’ “‘IT must grant thee any boon thou canst name,’’ said the lady, timidly. ‘*T want naught but thine own sweet self, of thine own sweet will.’’ ‘‘T can teach thee great wisdom.”’ ‘Thou shalt teach me what thou wilt when thou art my wife. My brother Eric’s wife has taught him to read and write the Romantongue. Theyare as happy as doves together, and she never saw him in her life till the hour he wedded her. A fair woman she is, but not to compare with thee.’’ ‘I can give thee the treasures of Solo- ” mon. ‘‘T have plenty ; and if I come short, I dare say I can make Solomon pay me trib- ute if I try,’’ said the Norseman, who was not well read in Shemitic history ; ‘‘ and be- sides, I would rather give my wife riches than take them from her.”’ ‘‘T can make thee powerful over men.”’ ‘*T am that already, as thou wilt find when thou comest with me.’’ ‘* But I can’t go with you, you great stupid, obstinate creature,’’ said the lady, stamping her little foot, much more like an earthly than a ghostly thing. ‘‘ Don’t you know I am bound here by enchantment and can’t step over the threshold?”’ ‘*Thou shalt not need, for I will pick thee up and carry thee in one hand and my ax in the other. Come, put thy dear little hands in mine, and be my wife in all honor, and I will risk the enchantment,”’’ said Olof, holding out his own hands towards her. But at that instant, a low, rushing sound as of a great wind far away, was heard in the distance ; the hawk screamed, ‘‘He’s com- ing! He’s coming!’’ and danced wildly up THE COSMOPOLITAN. and down on her perch, and the fay lady, I suppose, lost her presence of mind ; for in- stead of escaping by any of the three magic doors that opened into her room, she threw herself into Olof’s arms and clung to him like a scared kitten. ‘‘He is coming !’’ she cried, ‘‘ save thy- self and—me too.’’ She added, ‘‘ If you can, but alas! I shall be thy ruin, too.”’ ‘*Not thou,’’ said Olof, as he kissed her. ‘‘Stand behind me, and leave my arm free, and thou shalt see whether or not thou hast chosen a man.’’ The lady obeyed him and stood silent with clasped hands, while the rushing noise as of huge wings swelled and grew louder every minute. ‘*He’s here,’’ screeched the falcon, and the next instant the solid wall flew open and then shut with a clang, as the demon rushed through. And now, young people, I can give you no idea of what a dreadful creature this myste- rious being was. If he was any shape at all, he was something like a cross between a bat and a cuttlefish, standing upright on two dragon legs with brazen scales. Lofty as was the ceiling, his head touched the gilded rafters. Every rib of his great bat’s wings terminated in sharp claws, and long feelers, with poison fangs coming out in all direc- tions from his shapeless body, writhing and clutching to catch and destroy ; and in the midst of these feelers was a hideous, hairless head with fiery eyes and grinning teeth. This horrid thing flung itself between Olof and the door leading outward, and the Vi- king turned and faced it, still keeping the lady at his back. ‘*Die, rash mortal !’’ screamed the demon, in a voice like a thousand saws. ‘‘Not to please you,’’ said Olof, heaving up his great war ax. ‘‘ Stand back and give way to my bride and me.”’’ ‘* Audacious man,’’ said the demon, in an awful tone. ‘‘ Know you not that if I speak one dreadful word of power, you will wither to ashes ?’’ ‘* Speak away !”’ said Olof, ‘‘ for all Icare.”’ ‘I'll tear you limb from limb,’’ screamed the demon, but it did not escape Olof’s notice that, though the creature brandished its claws about in the most threatening and aw- ful manner, it took very good care to keep out of the range of the ax.

Page 83

THE WATCHING OF THE FALCON. ‘*Go, or when I have counted three I shall speak the spell,’’ said the demon, flapping its wings wildly and throwing down a great deal of decorative bric-a-brac in the room with the wind thus raised. **Get out, you ugly brute!’’ said Olof, striking a mighty blow at the demon who dodged it, and in a great hurry began to chant in deep sepulchral tones its awful spell of power. Now this was the way the spell ran: ‘‘In- try, mintry, cutrey, corn—’’ but he never finished ; for Olof, in a fury, closed with him. There was a dreadful noise for a minute. The demon howled, the falcon screamed and struck at him with beak and talon whenever she could find a chance; the ax blows re- sounded, but the fay lady stood silent with white lips and clasped hands ; only in her heart she prayed to Odin, of whom she knew nothing except what she had heard from Olof. At last, with a fortunate stroke Olof brought the creature to the ground and set his foot upon it, but, lo and behold, as he raised the ax for the last blow, there seemed to be nothing under his foot, but a little wisp of something soft that in a weak little voice cried ‘‘ Quee, quee, queek !”’ Olof was too wary to take up his foot, but he bent and picked up between his finger and thumb a little withered-looking thing about four inches long, that looked like a bit of cucumber vine after the frost, with little mites of paws that waggled helplessly about and a head not so big as a mouse’s. ‘‘ Quee- e-quee-e !’’ it said, and while the Norseman hesitated whether to give it a final squeeze or throw it away, the falcon pounced, snatched it, and bolted it in a second. ‘‘Dear me !'’ said the falcon, wiping her bill, ‘‘he was much better in death than in life. I have not had anything so good for centuries, uh!’’ continued the bird with a sentimental air. ‘‘ What lovely fat mice our dear parents used to bring us when we were nestlings! Come away, O friends, for I long immensely to go a mousing.”’ But Olof and the lady neither heard nor heeded, for they were too much taken up with each other, and because with all that she had gone through and the new experiences that were rushing in upon her like a flood, the poor lady was trembling so that she could not stand. Olof lifted her slight form on his 427 left arm and with his ax in his right hand, lest other dangers might lie in wait, he car- ried her down the stairs and through the hall and out of that dark castle, where all the gates now stood wide open, into the free air. The falcon flew beside them, and nothing hin- dered theirway. They passed the lofty portal just as the sun was rising over the mountain, but as they turned to look once more upon the place, a mist began to rise from the cas- tle’s battlements, and in less than five min- utes the whole fabric had melted away into thin air, and the lake, before so black and still, rolled in golden ripples under the sun- shine. I leave you to imagine with what joy and wonder the old Armenian doctor and the page received Olof and his bride, and how the Sea King’s men cheered and shouted when their leader returned to them victori- ous with his prize. They madea great wed- ding feast, and offered due rite and sacrifice upon the sea shore to the gods of the North, and then they sailed away, taking with them the falcon (who took most of the credit of the victory to herself), and the old Armenian, who had no ties in his own land. Now, because Olof loved the sea and its winds and waves, his lady, who had no par- ticular country of her own, learned to love them too, and Olof won for himself a sov- reignty over the Western Isles that men now call the Hebrides. He ruled wisely and well, and men gathered beneath his banner, and he did them right and justice. The Armenian doctor lived with them till he died at a great age, and he told Olof’s boys so many tales of dreadful things that had overtaken young men who would leave their homes to go a roving, that their father had the greatest difficulty in keeping them beside him till they were sixteen. As for the falcon, she took to herself a mate, whom she henpecked extremely, as is the fashion of all the birds of prey, and of her came the race of Peregrine or pilgrim falcons. Now as for Olof and his wife, they loved each other more and more every year, but when and how they ended their days I know not ; nor whether they died like other mor- tals, or they passed into that border-land where dwell King Arthur, and Ogier the Dane, and Thomas the Rhymer ; but so long as they lived no evil spell or charm had power over them or theirs.

Page 84

VERY SOUR GRAPES: A STORY OF MALTA, By Davip KER HERE were few sharper fellows in the Maltese port of Valetta, and there were certainly very few greater rogues, than old Jacopo Feroni, who was a boatman, a guide, an interpreter, and a fruit-seller. Jacopo’s enemies used to say that he found fruit- selling the most profitable of all, and it was undoubtedly the one for which he ap- peared to be naturally fitted. His long, skinny fingers seemed made on purpose to slide into other people’s pockets, or through half-open doors and windows; and his one eye had the look of being always on the watch for a chance of playing some cun- ning trick upon every one whom he met. As one might expect, Jacopo had plenty of ill-wishers, who, having suffered from his rogueries, would have liked nothing better than to see him punished. But to trap such a sly old fellow was no easy matter. Now, it happened that one morning a British transport steamer came into Valetta harbor, bringing home a number of sick and wounded soldiers from the Black Sea, this being the time of the Crimean War. Of course she was instantly surrounded with a swarm of shore boats, and among the first to run alongside was our friend Jacopo Fe- roni, who never lost a chance of turning a penny or of stealing one. On her way westward, the transport had touched at one of the Greek islands to take in some fruit for the sick men, and the head steward had bought a large stock of grapes to refresh the invalids when they were thirsty. Unluckily, some of the finest grapes were not quite ripe when he got them, so he had kept them hanging in the sun ever since, just inside the porthole of his pantry. “You'd better shift those grapes some- where else, Harris,’’ said the first officer, asthe steamer glided intothe harbor. ‘‘ The gang- way runs up just outside, and some of these Maltese rascals are certain to spy the fruit and reach in for it as they come up the ladder.’’ ‘*It’ll be ‘sour grapes’ on ’em, if they do, sir,’’ answered the steward, with a grin. ‘‘I wouldn’t put my hand into that basket, not if you was to give me a shilling for it.”’ ‘* Why, what is it? Let me see.”’ ‘* Bless you, sir, don’t you touch it, un- less you want to give the doctor a job,” cried Mr. Harris, catching his arm. ‘‘ Look here!’’ He cautiously lifted the topmost bunch of grapes, and displayed a large rat-trap, with the spring set. ‘*Not a bad idea,’’ chuckled the officer ; ‘*your trap’s nicely baited, and I’ll be bound you’ll soon find some game in it.”’ And so it proved. The tempting fruit did not escape Master Jacopo’s keen eye, and in a moment his long, lean, supple hand slipped like an eel through the porthole and into the basket. Instantly a frightful yell was heard, which made everybody rush to the spot ; but when they saw Jacopo Feroni capering and screeching like a madman, with his arm thrust through the porthole, they easily guessed what had happened. ‘* Hollo, old chap !’’ shouted a sailor, look- ‘*Has your ing over the ship’s side at him. fist grown too big for the porthole all of a sudden? ’’ ‘“Hadn’t you better cut off your hand, Uncle Jacopo ?”’ cried a big Italian boatman from below. ‘‘I’ll lend you my knife with pleasure, if you haven’t got one.’’ ‘*Squeeze your body in through the hole, if you can’t get your hand out,’’ hallooed a fruit-seller, whose basket had suffered more than once from Feroni’s light fingers. The news of Jacopo’s misfortune spread like wildfire. The deck above and the wa- ters below were all alive with grinning faces, and the jeers and laughter grew louder and louder every moment, till it seemed to poor old Jacopo as if the whole population of Malta had assembled to make merry over his punishment, which he had certainly well deserved. At last the head steward took pity upon him, and opened the trap, when our luckless hero, binding up his bleeding fingers as well as he could, slunk away amid a roar of laughter that seemed to shake the very air. But the mishap taught hima very good lesson, and there was not much heard of his thieving after that.

Page 85

Page 86

CAISS AOLPEEMPIE TAIT LL SLU a e

Page 87

A

Page 88

| send direct wide substitute for the GENUINE H. TT. MARSHALL'S! SHORE SpppNirs Race. Congicib. A Congress that will not draw the fpot. A Lace Boorthat |. Price, including one extra byes. ¢ wheel ‘$1 OO,:. needs no lacing in patting on or off. It combines we merits of bath, and is an improvement gn either shoe. N.# fiat "ing licensed others to make this Shocand use my Patent Stamp Sfrap, 7 wish to be held responsible only for those Shoes having my Name Stamped ow the Bottoms, all of which I guarantee ba | satisfactory, 77: Nassau Street, N. A THE LEADING | : 3 po ma 300 Washington Street, Boston. LAW Pi la Is ~ | 119 South 4th St., Philadelphia... ~ - , 206' La Salle Street, Chicago. if your dealer / . 215 Chestnut Street, St. Louis. | [caet ere . : 128 Walnut St., Cincinnati. them for you, ¢ | 617 Seventh St., N. W., Washington. 15 North Charlés” Street, Baltimore. i,’ ¢F. MARSHALL. 443 Wood Street, Pittsbur h. Also manufacturet_of Mén’s, Boys’, and Youth's Fine Boots and Shoes, I 58 Public Square, Cc eveland, oO. i the Best J-awn Tennls Shoe maile for Ladies’ and Gent's wear. | BROCKTON, MASS. Send for Catalogue and Price List. The) Manh attan Life Ins surance Co. } OF NEW YORK. Nos. 150 AND 152 BROADWAY. ‘ ® JAMES M. McLEAN, President. |. L. HALSEY,-zs¢ Vice-Pres. H. Y. WEMPLE, Secretary, H. B. STOKES, ad Vice-Pres. S. N. STEBBINS, Actwary. -. INVESTMENT BOND. Your attention is called to the Investment Bond issied by the Manhattan’ Life Ins. Co,, whereby i certain amount is secured, payable at the end of twenty yéars, or previously incase of death. Unlike other first-class investments the principal sum is not required at once, but is payable in ten equal dnnual installments. To a man of 40 years of age the annual cost fora Bond of $10,000, increased by profits to $11,607.00, vould bt $796.89, and in case of death during the first ten_years,the profit over the amount invested uld be 4s follows, viz..: If death should occur In 1st year, ; ‘ : $10,810 20 6th year, é ‘ 4 $6,826 20 In, 2d yéar, + . . 10,013 40 7th year, : F 6,029 40 In 3d year, ; : 5 9,216 60 8th year, : F 5,232 60 In 4th-year, ‘ . ; 8,419 80 oth year, ‘ 4,435 80 In. Sth year, - > ‘ 7,623 00 roth year, : 7 3,639 00 At the end: of the period,*the profit is about forty-five per cent. omtbe total money paid in, Full information as to this new plan of investment, showing the amount of atinual deposit required to | be paid at each age fo secure'similar results, will be promptly furnished by the C mepeny or by any of its | ag rents on application to them. ri

Page 89

oP ew ot

Page 90

Page 91

THE COSMOPOLITAN. CONTENTS, AUGUST, 1887. Charles Sumner Engraved, By H. VELTEN. Millionaires of the Pacific Coast GEORGE H. FITCH Tilustrations from Photographs. By E. J. MEEK- ER and K. F. GLAESSER. The “™esurrection of Siddharta )”, Friend and My Books Pilgrims and Shrines in Canada...... J. MACDONALD OXLEY Illustrated. By E, J. MEEKER from original draw- ing by L. FENNINGS TAYLOR. The Hard Money Lilustrated. By W. E. KEMBLE. The (---lone da ‘> Money Question wsonte Carlo: Its Games and Game- CHARLES C. WELMAN L/!utented, Engraving. By J. CLEMENT. Charie. Sumner. Recollections by....ARNOLD BURGES JOHNSON.... Illustrated. By H. C. Brown, A Door Must be Either Open or Shut. BERR DE TURIQUE THE YOUNG FOLKS. The Laplander’s Wealth The Watching of the Falcon. Second | Sour Grapes: 20 CENTS PER COPY, $2.00 PER YEAR. SCHLICHT & FIELD CO., PUBLISHERS. 29 PARK ROW, NEW YORK. » Entered at the New York Post-Office as Second Class matter. Copyright, 1887, by Schlicht & Field Co.

Page 92

THE COSMOPOLITAN. ‘ These are Nolid Facts: (BUT ARE FRESH EVERY MONTH. RoseERnuD INDIAN Ac’cy, Dak., Dec. 30, 1883. Package of R1IDGE’s Foon re- ceived. It did excellent service in the case of two infants suffer- ing from bowel complaint. * * I feel from my last summer's experience that I can heartily recommend it. ForpDYcE GRINNELL, CuHIcaGo, ILL., Aug. 28, ’86. Messrs. WOOLRICH & Co., Palmer, Mass. Send me pamphlet entitled “Healthful Hints,” as advertised in Chicago Her- ald. Having been feeding RipGe’s Foop for the past week to an infant whose life was almost despaired of from Agency Physician. | cholera infantum; to-day, I am pleased to say, the babe is so much improved that it cries but very little, and is, apparently, in the best of health, as it sleeps from early evening until day- light. My wife has been unable CHAPMAN’S QUARRIES, Pa., June 29, 1886. Please send one large can ($1.75) of RipGe’s Foop. The sample you sent worked most satisfactorily; the child refusing | ‘0 nurse the child at all. We its mother’s milk after being fed | tried several foods before using with Ripcr’s Foop. Enclose | R1DGk’s. bill and will forward check. Cuas, H. Ort, M.D. FOUR SIZES 35 .65 1.26 1.75 é @. : ONEVERY LABEL. Cyn it is undoubtedly true that more children have been successfully reared by the use of Ridge’s Food than by the use of all the other foods combined, Do not experiment with your child, but take the food that has stood the test of time. Yours truly, M. G. RICHARDs. Send to Woolrich & Co,, Palmer, Mass., for pamphlet entitled ‘‘ Healthful Hints,’’ sent FREE to any address, Mention ‘‘Cosmopolitan,’’ You CANT AFF ORD not set y like the old style Glue; my nn ‘our times the strength. ALWAYS READY FOR USE—NO HEATING. These Glues are used in the Smithsonian Institute at Washington for all its works of mounting specimens, by the Government Arsenals and Department Buildings, by the Pullman Palace Car Co., Mason & Hamlin Organ and Piano Co., and by thousands of first-class manufacturers and mechanics throughout the world, for all kinds of fine work. Pronounced STRONG er 2 DHESIVE KNOWN. Sold in tin cans for s, and in bottles for family use. The total quantity sold betwecn Jan., 1880'and 1887, in all the world, amounted to over FOR TY-SEVEN MIL iON bottles ied ine buying the various Liquid Glues which are Don’t be — being put on the market ; some with high sounding names; others | | Suse marks a and name as near as they dare ; their only cry i Just as as LePage's.” It is the best recommendation that ‘the RK U babe) CEM CO, could have of the merits of their glues. Labels of our CANS are black and yellow ; BOTTLES, red, yellow, green, and black, with a line of blue. Nate 4 GLUES THE Its strength is not {approached by te ordinary mucilage. The shape of the bottle wil! of every count- ing-room, as it will not eed over easily, vas the neck is so shaped that wiping the brush need not clog ond, gum the édges, and its price is within the reach To the Trade LePage’ 's Mucilage is packed in dozens ; dozen in a case. Be sure and get the GENUINE LePAGE’S, Made only by the RUSSIA CEMENT CO., Gloucester, Mass. 4QDE BY RUSS 9 Seer Sample by mail 20 cents (stamps). Mention this wes & three c OUCESTER. tv MASS.

Page 93

AMERICAN REPRINT. ~ COPYRIGHTED, 1887, BY SLAG oe “ t TEN CENTS A COPY ILLUSTRATED NEWS COMPANY. PE SE, OFS ee WITH SUPPLEMENT. THE NEW RACING YACHT THISTLE, BUILT ON THE CLYDE. THE FINEST ILLUSTRATED PAPER PUBLISHED. For Sale by all Newsdealers.

Page 94

4 >... CHE COSMOPOLITAN. Thirty Thousand Buttonholes ! SEWING MACHINE COMPLETE AT LAST.

Simplest in Construction. Largest Steaming Capacity. ‘Greatest Economy ’in Fuel. Mention ‘ Cosmopolitan,” 3 : 3 3 5 a z

is the number which a skillful dr ker esti d she makes in one year, on her Sewing Machine, with our ‘‘Pamily” Buttonhole Attachment, which can be applied toany two-thread Sewing Machine, without alteration, and an elegant and durable buttonhole produced in half a minute. The Sewing Machine is now complete For work of every kind, With trained and willing feet, It for all mankind. GOOD STEAM HEATING SAVES YOUR HEALTH. apted to any kind of Fuel and any Climate. labor is required Agents wanted everywhere, DUPLEX STEAM HEATER CoO., And genius now with patient hand, Manufacturers, under Fiske’s Patents, No. 10 BARCLAY STREET, NEW YORK. Its motion so contro! That yielding to its firm demand, It makes good buttonholes. The hands that toil for aaly bread, hrough — so and dreary, No more shall tire with looping thread, With fingers worn and weary. Price within reach of all. Send two-cent stamp, mention Cosmopo.itan, and full iculars, testimonials, and sample of work will be sent. Address or call on THE SMITH & EGGE M’F'’G 16 East rath Street, New York, a ; where they can be seen in practical operation. < all night warm house.

Our Heater gives an

S@ SEND For New ILivstratep CATALOGUE AND REFERENCES.

“Oh, father! Here’s Lundborg’s EDENIA in this London store, It makes me feel quite at home!”’ “Yes, child. Edenia is a popular perfume the world over.” LUNDBORC’S “EDENIA.’’ LUNDBORG’S “RHENISH COLOGNE.” If you cannot obtain LUNDBORG’S PERFUMES AND RHENISH COLOGNE in your vicinit send your name and address for Price List to the. manufacturers, YOUNG, LADD & COFFIN. @4 Barclay Street, New York,

Page 95

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. 5 METCALF’S COCA WINE. From FRESH Coca Leaves, A Pleasant Tonic and_ Invigorator. The NEW RESTORATIVE NERVE TONIC and Remedy for SLEEPLESSNESS. Made from the Erythroxylon Coca or Peruvian Coca Leaves. OR fatigue of mind and body, weakness after long ill- \ ness, neuralgia, loss of appetite, general debility, and sleeplessness from nervous exhaustion it is unrivaled, and what is most particular, perfectly harmless, and may be given to children and delicate persons for a long time without the slightest un- pleasant after-effect. Public Speakers, Sing- ers, and Actors have found Wine of Coca (Metcalf’s) to be a valuable tonic to ¥ the vocal cords, and also a sedative, allaying nervous fright without perceptible after-effect. It is agreeable to the taste, and can be prescrib- ed for children or conva- lescents. Athletes, Pedes- ae trians, and Base-Ball Play- cy ers have found by practi- cal experience that a steady course of Coca, taken both before \ and after any trial of strength or endur- a *) DOSE OF WINE OF ance, will impart energy to every move- CSGA : ment, and prevent fatigue and waste from 26 to | wineglassful three the system. Elderly people have found it oapery a reliable aphrodisiac, superior to any other drug. Price: Dozen Pints, $10.00; 1-Gal. Demijohns, $5.00; 1-Gal. Bottles, $5.00. Packed for Shipping. TO MEDICAL MEN AND CLERGYMEN.—The proprietors will forward, on receipt of pro- fessional card and one dollar, a Sample Bottle of their Wine, express prepaid. ESTABLISHED 18387. THEODORE METCALF & CO., 39 Tremont Street, Boston, Mass. E. FOUCERA & CO., 30 North William Street, NEW YORK.

Page 96

6 THE COSMOPOLITAN. 4-ERGAN'S

; f { Vy ZE/ J . ; © / | , ; hj Z 4 i iW 4 / , } i s jit net: ne = \ / y “ io liz Le Y a Af WA |/ 4a - 4 | ff sis *) iis ks My 3 U7 f Of Pg k WS i. ASN), iV) ( ’. a Ld VAY: Gg \ < y y , 4 ; i ) _ x) Wd i, / J)" } if \ ? f , d } as Zi Y, ‘A vod 3 LIQUID ”4 ih NEeOmMPLEXION

Page 97

| At 95 It is hard to bring one’s thoughts to furnace heat- ing, but now is the time to get the best work and at the /owest prices. For Firry YEARs we have been manufacturing HOT AIR FURNACES, Ranges; and Parlor Stoves, and in these fifty years we have perfected the largest | - =

complete line of Wrought, Cast Iron, and Steel Ae ‘ Plate Furnaces and Ranges in the world. SSAUTY AN D RAGRAN ct Send for Illustrated Catalogue and prices. ARE COMMUNICATED TO THE MOUTH BY Estimates furnished upon application. O ZO D O N T. 230 Water Street, New York, | which renders the teet WHITE, the gums Rosy AE Cato < “ } and the breath sweet. It thoroughly removes 56 Union Street, Boston. | tartar from the teeth and prevents decay. PROVIDENCE, R.1 SOLD BY DRUGGISTs. Common Sense Chairs, Settees and Rockers. STRONG, DURABLE, COMFORTABLE. No light, trashy stuff, but good, honest home comforts, Special discount to clergymen. Send stamp for catalogue to F, A, SINCLAIR, Mottville, Onondaga Co., N. Y. Closer, closer let us knit Hearts and hands together, — = Srerie comiees ” sits “ eside Comfort.” In the coldest weather. ne ae Oh! they wander wide who roam For the joys of life from home, ** The Common Sense chairs and settees of Mr. Sinclair are not surpassed by any other class of goods, and parties furnishing country houses, and desiring inexpensive, comfortable, and durable furniture will do well to write to Mr. F. A. Sinclair. at Mottville, N. Y., for a copy of his handbook, which contains illustrations of the various articles he manufactures, with a schedu'e of prices.” —Screntific American.

For Two,

Send immediately for a Bottle of ; de ONOGRAPHY S COME OFF! F HONETIC SHORT HAND Ww d d Painl “taugh end for Catalog. Add — ‘Cusle — QI =x The Vescouranlie tastuank Cincinnati. CORNS! ~ by all druggists, or omy ({ ostpaid, on ¥ poy Eng pa on receipt of price, Z DENTOLIO MANUFACTURING 0©0., Rochester, N.Y. | Cottage Portfolio. Dr. HEBRA’s wonderful cure fo Dyspepsia, In- ENTIRELY WEW. Size 10x12 in. digestion, and Constipation. A speedy and Positive Contains 12 designs of New, Modern, | Cure guaranteed. The most marvelous remedy in E Low Cost Homes, 43 illustrations, | the market. It renews and purifies the blood, re- showing floor plans, views, elevations, op “gar descriptions, and cost. Many ofthese | stores tone and activity to the muscles, and re-invig- im designs are ahead in new artistic ideas, anes : Seal ened ender ad op ee wd orates the nervous system. Sent postpaid on oh Pestuction for one containing SO receipt of price, $1.00, by H THAT IS NEW. Sent poe at for $1.00. Address D. S. HOP- I. K. COOK & CO., Grand Rapids, Mich. 7 Barclay Street, New York.

INS, Architect,

Page 98

‘THE COSMOPOLITAN. WHITE MOUNTAINS .AND BAR HARBOR PROVIDENCE LINE To PROVIDENCE Direct. Palace Steamers RHODE ISLAND and Massa- CHUSETTS leave Pier 29, N. R. (Foot of Warren St.), daily, at 5.00 P.M. (Sundays excepted), con- necting with White Mt and Bar Harbor Ex- a, with through Parlor Car from Steamers’ harf to all points in New England. Send to P.O, Box 3011 for Summer Excursion Book. > J, W. MILLER, W.R,BABCOCK, 0. H, BRIGGS, Gen’! M’g’r. Asst. G. P. A G.P.A

Capital Paid- a Jarvis-Conklin Mortgage Trust Co. | [eti%Gdcrence runa,” .” .” - "22888:888 rs its SIX PER CENT. Debenture Bonds of $500, $1,000, and $5,000, running ten years, to TRUSTEES, GUARDIANS, and IND"- Offe: 1 Estat rth on times the amount of the bonds. Secured also by th VIDUAL INVESTOR?. _ Secured by, First Mortgages on ResrEED S IX PE CENT. first mortgages on improved farms in Kansas and ARANTEED SI entire ro rey copttal of of Bi sek fat cere CAR CO , 239 Seabener New York; 27 Custom House Street, Providence, R. I.; Mi 144 S. 4th St., Vailadeiphia ; 95 Gresham St., London, England. INVITATIONS, EDUCATE i, RECEPTION ano VISITING CARDS, oo S & g q

wae 1 Outf " | aes . hich iST MAGIC LANTERNS TO BEST STEREO! t ~ Pee po a MAGIC LANTERNS an ads ces Rubber Stam stamps, Sten Stencils: Agte’ Novelties, Bc. NX ND'VIEW S & CO. ROCHESTER, N, Y, FOR AN ENGRAVED PLATF AND 50 CARDS, per NGRAVED CARDS BY MAIL {1.00 mail Sample sheet on a ewe. ROBERT SNEIDER, Engraver, 96-98 Fulton St., New York. i Our Engraving Department offers unequaled facilities for Wedding and Visiting Cards. Engraved PA f N TS. FRANKLIN H. HOUGH, plate and so cards $1.00, Send for sample sheet. Washington, D. C. WM. H. HOSKINS CoO., 7 N ntil patent is obtained. sfally given. ° Leading Stationers, 927 Arch Street, h Street, Philadelphia Pa. atonatinth cheerfully given. Correspondence invited. : THE “MIKADO” Braided Rattan BUSTLES ARE THE LIGHTEST AND MOST DUR- ABLE MADE. NO METAL BEING USED IN THEIR CONSTRUCTION, THEY ARE ABSOLUTELY NON-CORROSIVE. 2, 3, and 4 Rows. Plain or Covered.

OPTICAL, MUSICAL ELEC Blo a ié nierns an ( ANEKGHO ORCAN CO. 800 Filbe:

. (ERAIDED RATTAN? SUE OUNTLE ene SITES PRO AAND PGA FOR SALE EVERYWHERE.

Page 99

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. Remington Standard Typewriter. Attention is called to the increased excellence of this incomparable machine, WE GUARANTEE ITS SUPERIORITY. Buy it, with the privilege of returning it unbroken at any time within 30 days, C.O.7 ., for full price paid, if not absolutely satis- factory in ever ect. - We furnish the finest grades of Linen Paper and Typewriter Remington Typewriter, No. 2. supplies of every kind. Iliustrated pamphlet upon application, Wyckoff, Seamans & Benedict, 339 Broadway, New York. “THIS INVENTION IS A REAL LITTLE TREASURE.” [Phila, Public Ledger.] Philadelphia Cooking School, ¥\ 7 Chestnut St t. W The Henis 52 %203,. «us. Dear Sir- A few days ago some one left one of your patent Fruit and Vegetable Presses at my school on trial. I used it to-day for the first, and find it the best thing of the kind I have ever used, Would you be kind enough to Z| write me where they can be purchased ? Respectfully you (Mrs,) S. L. RORER, 4 22,84. Principal, For Mashing Potatoes, Straining Cranberries, Ap- ple Sauce, Pumpkins, Starch, and in pressing the Juice from Grapes, Currants, and other Fruits for Jellies. Housekeepers will find it the Handiest - oe = Kitchen Utensil ever made. For sale by dealers in Hardware and House Furnishing Goods. Price, Fifty Cents. ped ate dealer does not keep them, the Press will be sent, by mail, to any address on receipt of Sixty Cents. Manufactured omy hy CHARLES F. HENIS CO., 148 North Seventh Street, Philadelphia, Pa. $8.00. The World Type Writer. $8.00. RAPID, THE ONLY PRACTICAL AND CHEAP SIMPLE, — oan Soa ‘ = a hay DURABLE.g 3 weupnnn, (G Ba 73) Onn ——]————— . TYPE WRITER. SE SS ) CAN BE ; OPERATED EXPERIENCE. . . AT ONCE. DOES THE WORK OF A MACHINE COSTING TEN TIMES ITS PRICE. SEND For CircuLar. , GEO. BECKER & CO., Sole Agents, 30 Great Jones St., New York. REQUIRES NO EXCELLENT CORNETS AT $10. Old furniture and the varnished Violins, Flutes, Clarionets and Piccolos HOW T0 MAK wood work in your house look hke At prices to suit everybody. new. Send 2scentsto The Bridgeport Wood Fin- Send fer Catalogue BENJ. B. DALE, ishing Co., New Milford, Conn., for a bottle of » AnD (Formerly with Gilmore’s Band,) Easton’s Polish, delivered free to any part of the United States, Mention this Paper. 86 Liberty St., N, ¥. at THE BLOTTER BATH AND RAPID COPYING PROCESS. Patented April 13, 1875, May 20, June 24, 1879, and February 9, 1886. Acknowledged by the thousands using it to be the most perfect and practical device for letter copying which has ever been brought into public use. We furnish pads made of paper stock specially adapted to the purpose, and Provided with our patent edge protector, making a strong and durable pad when wet. We also furnish cloth pads and Rubber sheets when desired, but nothing can equal our special paper pads for, ® perfect copying. + Circulars mailed when desired, giving full particulars. Address The B B. Hill Man’fg Co., 1020 New Market St., Philadelphia, Pa.

Page 100

THE COSMOPOLITAN.

tae is a most excellent article for Cleansing and Preserving the Teeth. It hardens the gums, sweetens the breath, and beautifies the teeth. It contains no acid or harsh, gritty substance—nothing that can injure the enamel in the slightest degree. By its constant use teeth retain their efficiency and beauty even to the extreme duration of life. It is put up in bot- tles, which prevents its being spoiled by exposure to the atmos- phere, Pit ruey Bag originalcombination of partsanditsdelicious flavor. At Fancy Drug Stores and Druggists, Family size Bottles $1.00.

The oalahinced BLAI R’S PI LLS. : Great English Remedy for Gout, For preserving, re- storing, and beau- ( tifymg the com- gh plaints, sure, prompt, and effective. | — Oval box, 34 pills. Round, 14 - Sold » hy = pills. At all Druggists, and : Ww a8 EN FU N.w* Goh teen. aay 224 William St., New York.

A Skin of Beauty is a Joy Forever. Sapam ke taiyet DR. T. FELIX GOURAUD’S ntal Cream, or Magical Beantifier. Removes Tan, Pim- : \ wl ge pe Bn y atches, Rash and Sk n ; a \¥* Diseases, and every ; i THE HAIR. fm blemish on beauty, and { Be defies detection. It has : The Oldest and the stood the test of 30 ' i ae ears, and is so harm- Best. ess “ taste it to be x sure the preparation 1s > 8 geoperly made, Accent fi Exquisitely perfumed. no counterfeit of simi- | Removes all impurities from the scalp, prevents larname. The distin- . . uished Dr. L. A. | baldness and gray hair, and causes the hair to grow yre said to a lady of ; : i . r dhs Rood fon taguntonn): Thick, Soft, and Beautiful. Beware of base imitations. $1,000 Reward for arrest and proof of any one WANTED Ladies ak Misses to do Crochet Work at i) tle ox No other cosmetic PURIFIES AS WELL AS Beautifies the Skin

selling the same. home, city ra cuaeey, andy ——- on 218 STATE Sr., CHICAGO, Ti.

Agents coin money with my new Ladies’ L A DY Specialty. Immense success. | pace $S! Write for terms. sample Corset fre y C. Mrs. H. F. LITTLE, C. 332, Chicago, Ill. LEWIS SCHIELE & CO., 892 Broadway, N. Y.

————— *BEAUT Yx ee 4\ 7S but skin deep. Thousands of ladies would be . beautiful were it not for a poor complexion. ‘o all such we say “DR. HEBRA’S VIOLA CREAM” will cure all imperfections, leaving the skin soft, clearand white. It is not a cosmetic to cover up defects, but a remedy to cure. We willsend a box of Dr. Hebra’s Viola Cream securely packed on re- ceipt of 50 cents in stamps, silver or postal note, or six boxes for $2.50. Be sure and mention the “ Cosmo tan. " @. C. BITTNER & CO., 200 Huron St., TOLEDO, OHIO.

Page 101

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. Gurney Hot Water Heating Apparatus. Warm your dwellings by this system. Advantages A Hot Water Ap- paratus will heat with a low fire, while with a Steam Heat- ing Apparatus no heat is given off un- til you have generat- ed steam,the amount It insures a warm house day and night, and a saving in fuel of 30 per cent. over other methods. of coal c din first raising steam bein practically wasted as far as heating the building is concerned. A Steam Apparatus requires constant at- tention, for should the fire be neglected and the temperature of the water in the boiler fall below 212° Fah., Steam Radia- tors will cool in- stantly, although the fire may be burning and the fuel wasting, whereas the Hot Water System will continue to give out The greatest with Steam Heating is the ina- bility to keep down the temperature in mild weather when but little heat is re- quired. A Hot Water Ap- —- can be regu- ated to meet the requirements of the external tempera- ture; for instance, on a chilly day in Spring or Fall, when there is a desire fora little heat, you can et it from a Hot ater Apparatus at a temperature of the water say 110° to 120°, whereas with Steam Heat you have to raise the water to 212° ‘Fah., and gen- erate steam, and in a very short time our rooms are over- un- Equality of tem- perature in all parts of the building, the heat being mild and pleasant. Advantages It is noiseless in steam. It is abso- lutely safe ; no dan- of explosi as Svcapparatus isopen to the atmosphere. The heat is condu- cive to health, as it free from noxious 4 and | the air being slowly w , is soft, not from chest or lung troubles. c from an article by J. Drysd and ee £>- : a hip. of England published in He dad Comfort in say: roc: the healthfulness of Hot Water Heat, we may notice that one of us who had li four years in a house heated by the Hot Water System is a practitioner of medicine, which involves being fre- quently called out at = bo of the day and night, no in- coapeel tiabality » cold or de! —~ *- ii any kind has observed ; ; on the whereas, when bronchitis and quin- sy, he has never | | aed Gaease Fa A living in his hous, and a member of his family who had previously to spend several win- SIters in a warm cli- mate is now able to remain at home and go on it in the open air ‘or prevention of disease, we hold such a house a most important auxil- MANUFACTURED BY THE GURNEY HOT WATER HEATER CO., No. 237 Franklin St, Boston, Mass. SELLING AGENTS: eh ane eget ir 5 on ata et mr eam Shree M. H. JoHNson, 140 Centre St., New York. OHN A. FISH Works at Rice & WHITACRE MFc. Co., : ; ' East Boston. j 42 and 44 West Monroe St., Chicago. Managing Director. Send for descriptive catalogue and testimonials. Mention this magazine. Aug, 987.

Page 102

THE COSMOPOLITAN. 12 2 ; Send ‘for Illustrated DRESS Catalogue. Mrs. A. FLETCHER, 6 East 14th Street, N. Y. City. |" MARLIN MAGAZINE RIFLE 1h Best In The VW orlida ls ° | forks é OF small game—32 calibre, 40 grains reer: 38 cal. 85 6r-5 | gr.; 45 cal. ant TE. The strongest shooting rifle mad +h Pert fect alae 4 guarauteed and the only cbeolutely safe rifle on toe mar- ket. Pri Gallery, Sporting and Tar- worl’ renowned, The standard for target shooting, hunting, and shooting SSteries. All calibres from 22 to 45. Made in fourteen different styles, prices from $15.00 up. Send for illustrated catalogue. MARLIN FIRE ARMS CO., = New Haven, Conn. rgets made with one of our 22 calibre rifles, twenty consecutive shots at oixt pad feet, after fifty shots had already been fired and no cleaning during the entire seventy shots. ese guns ca off nearly all the prizes at target because they are always accurate and reliable, for Union Soldiers, and for their | widows and children. MILO B. STEVENS & CO., Washington, Cleveland, Detroit, and Chicago. BP PSS GRATEFUL—COMFORTINC. COCOA “HAVE A E 9) YoU A If not, you can grow one without [bs ith Beard Vigor. Also grows Sheba and hair on bald h Ps Perfectly harmless, and SuCCESS {ere nteed, . Package by a for 50 cen EEMER & CO, Box 798, NEW AVEN, CONN. THOROUGH FRENCH AND ENGLISH HOME SCHOOL, Under the chorge of Mme. Henriette Clerc and Miss Marion L. Pecke. Frenc orsanged to be et in two years. Terms, $3 goat. Address Mme. H. CLER’ ilade! phia, Pa. TEW ENGLAND CONSERVATORY MUSIC, FINE ARTS, ORATORY, Literature, English Branches, French, German, Italian, ete. LARGEST and Best Equipped in the Wests 100 Instructors, 2186 Students laut veer: Board and Room with Steam Heat and Electric Light. Fall Term begins Sept. 8, 1887. Ill'd Calendar free. Ad- dress E. TOURJEE, Dir., Franklin Sq., Boston, Mass. 4313 and 4315 Walnut St., AGENTS “‘ MONEY Piven ‘and Receipt Book, dition y > al Thousand sold in one month. Large com- ees ek. A. Ww “TA MILTON, Ann Arbor, Mich. AGENTS NOTICE!!! OR the best and Most recent exponent of the truths of the “HOLY BIBLE,” and for all information on EGYPT and PALESTINE, people turn at once to the NEW BOOK BURIED CITIES RECOVERED OR, EXPLORATIONS IN BIBLE LANDS, By Rev. F.S. DeHASS, D.D. (late Consul at Jerusalem.) Ministers of the Gospel and Teachers of Sunday-schools are adding much W& their paasaae by their friends, Canvassers s coin money, For particu- lars write to BRADLEY & 00. 663. 4th St Philada.. Pa. 100 FANCY SCRAP PICTURES and Beautiful Sample Card Outfit, 4c. AETNA PRINT CO., Northford, Conn. To take the agency of WANTED MA = zeten size 28x 18x18 inches; weight 500 lbs.; il p rice $35; arare chance to create a Seemanenl business in his own city or locality. These safes meet a demand never before suppiled by cay | safe com peniee. 8 we are not governed bbs he Safe Ad ALPIN® sAFE COMPANY, 8 Ohio. and HAY FEV™=r: can be ewred only by Dr. Hair’s System. 64 Page Treatise sent Free. Dr, W. B. Hair. Cincinnati, o Officer’s pay, ay A Lo cured ; deserters relieved 9 21 years’ practice. Success or no fee. Write for circulars ane new laws. A. W. McCormick & Son, Washi D.C. 1, “JOHN HASTINGS= JOS=TRIPP. VPresit. “A=R=HART= Prest. GenManager, j 22 ILLUSTRATIVE AND ADVERTISING URP@SES | BRANCH CN*AT 728: repre STi GO S9 PHIEADELPHIA - Pap

Page 103

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. MEDICATED ELECTRICITY — TO EVERY PART OF THE SYSTEM. AN I INSTANT RELIEF AND CURE FOR HEADACHE, CATARRH, HAY-FEVER, NEURALGIA, COLD IN THE HEAD, ASTHMA. PRICE, $1.00 FOR SALE BY ALL LEADING DRUGGISTS. LIBERAL TERMS TO AGENTS AND DRUGGISTS. SENT BY MAIL ON RECEIPT OF PRICE. TRUESDALE M’F’GCO.,22 PARK PLACE, NEW YORK A POTENT REMEDY FOR Indigestion, Acute and Atonic Dyspepsia, Chronic and Gastro-Intestinal Catarrh, Vomiting in Pregnancy, Cholera Infantum, and in convalescence from Acute Diseases. Over 5,000 Physicians have sent to us the most FLATTERING OPINIONS upon DIGESTYLIN as a REMEDY for all diseases arising from improper digestion. For 20 years we have manufactured the DIGESTIVE FERMENTS expressly for Physicians’ use, and for the past year DIGESTYLIN has been by them exten- sively prescribed, and to-day it stands without a rival It is not a secret remedy, but a scientific preparation, the formula of which is plainly printed on each bottle. Its great DIGES- TIVE POWER is created by a careful and proper treatment of the ferments in manufacture. It is very agreeable to the taste, and acceptable to the most delicate stomach. For the reliability of our statements, we would respectfully refer to the WHOLESALE and RETAIL DRUGGISTS of the country,and PHYSICIANS generally. Sold by Druggists, or WM. F. KIODER & CO , 83 John St., N. Y. as a digestive agent.

Page 104

THE COSMOPOLITAN. BAUSCH & LOMB OPTICAL CO. MANUFACTURERS OF THE Leading American Microscopes, OBJECTIVES and ACCESSORIES, New American Pcteneanibie Lenses, ~ Universal” GUARANTEED EQUAL TO THE VERY BEST OF THE EUROPEAN. Ask Stockdealers of Photographic Supplies for descriptive circulars and prices, or send to us. FACTORY AND MAIN OFFICE : ROCHESTER, N. Y.—531-539 North St. Paul Street. P. O. Box 354. Branch Office: NEW YORK— 48 and 50 Maiden Lane. P. O. Box 432.

Page 105

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. 15 THE TUXEDO SUIT LADIES AND MISSES. This complete cos- tume of original de- sign, novel, elegant, and graceful—con- sisting of Cap, Blouse, Skirt, and Sash—is knitted of the finest worsted materials, in patterns to match throughout. It is made in a _ varied assortment of colors and in sizes for 12 ears and upwards, TUX From its texture it is especially adapt- ed for Lawn Tennis, Yachting, Rowing, Gymnasium. EDO From its texture it is especially adapt- ed for Mountain and Seashore Wear, and all Athletic and Out- door Sports. Illustrated Catalogue | Sent on Application. FOR SALE ONLY BY JAMES McCREERY & CO., Broadway and Eleventh Street, NEW YORK. WATERLOO ORGANS are noted for an quality of tone, superior finish, and design of cases hey pump one-half easier than any other “BEST IN THE WORLD. In localities where we have no agents, will sell direct to public at wholesale prices. For prices and catalogues, ad- dress MALCOLM LOVE & CO., Waterloo, N. Y. Briggs Pianos. Graceful in Design, Thorough in Construction, Matchless in Tone, Beautiful in Finish. INDORSED BY OUR BEST ARTISTS. Catalogue mailed on application, C. C. BRIGGS CoO., No, 5 Appleton St., Op, No, 440 Tremont 8&t., BOSTON, MASS. OPIUM Morphine Higpte Cured in in 8 Dr. J. fi Uf Ohio. __DRESSING

Page 106

THE COSMOPOLITAN. A RELIABLE WINE OF COCA What Dr. WM. A. HAMMOND says. Before the New York Neurological Society, on Tuesday evening, November 2, Dr. William A. Hammond called at- tention to the impurities existing iri most of the preparations of wine of coca, which vitiated their value : “I therefore asked a well-known gentleman of this city if he could not prepare a wine of coca which should consist of a good wine and the pure alkaloid. He has succeeded in making such a preparation. “* A wineglassful of this tonic, taken when one is exhausted and worn out, acts as a most excellent restorative ; it gives a feeling of rest and relief, and there is no reaction and no sub- sequent depression. A general feeling of pleasantness is the result. I have discarded other wines of coca, and use this alone. i is Thurber, Whyland & Co.'s preparation.” (/talics ours.) “This wine of coca may be taken by the wineglassful, the same as an ordinary wine; there is no disagreeable taste; in fact, it tastes like a good Burgundy or Port wine. Taken three times a day before meals, or whenever needed, it has a remarkably tonic effect, and there is no reaction. The article pretness excellent results in cases of depression of spirits; in ysteria, headache, and in nervous troubles generally, it works admirably. It isa simple remedy, yet efficacious and remarkable in its results,” Ask for Tuurser, WHyLtanp & Co.’s RESTORATIVE WINE OF COCA. If you cannot procure it elsewhere, write to Thurber, Whyland & Co. NEW YORK. CUSTOM MADE PANTS $3. Vests to Match for $2.25. Also, FULL SUITS at Popular Prices urement, and other partic- ulars, showing how we can make to measure, a pair of The Celebrated Bay State Pants, For $3. We give excellent value for . the money incredible as it mayseem. Satisfaction guar- i —S-. Retersoae” American Express Co. Boston. Address. ; Mass. BAY STATE PANTS CO., 32 Hawley St., Boston. THE F. P. ROBINSON CO. CLEANFAST Black Stockings. The only dye ever in- vented that positively will not STAIN or FADE. Soap can be used freely in wash- ing them; it gives them a luster. All of our goods warranted as represented, None genuine without our label on every pair. A com- 4 plete assortment of Ladies’, j' Men’s and Children’s Cotton ’ and Lisle Thread for sale by ¥ = the CLteanrast Hosigry Co. res, = 7 Broadway, New York Trade Mar ity; 49 West Street, Bos- ton, Mass.; 107 S. State St., Chicago, Ill. Send for Price ist. Darning Cotton of our Dye, BEPTORED YOU BvuUY A N and REVOL PLA GUNS taken in Hxchange, Dialogues, Tableaux, Speak: for S8chool,Club & Parlor. Bestout Cate: logue free. T. 8. Denison, Chicago, LL THE FAIRY TRICYCLE. Coonp, Heakhfel. Graceful. E ’ Best tor girls, adults, and invalids. Only ical machine for cripple nd For circulars s to run by . ress Fay Manufacturing Co., Elyria, 0. iE AMERICAN CYCLES DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE hell Box, and sen for 20 cents. Address 70 SOuUvER carps with name written on, enclosed in " ACME CO., Clintonville, Conn. THE CINCINNATI SAFE AND LOCK Co, «+ MANUFACTURERS OF —“—— ((( BANK LOCKS and VAULT WORK, @._ Office and Factory, 41, 43, 45, 47 and 49 Elm Street, 9 5» CINCINNATI, O.

Page 107

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. 17 HEALTH, COMFORT, AND ECONOMY. — ASK YOUR DEALERS FOR—— Hough & Ford's Perfect Fitting Shoes. AA LADIES’, MISSES’, CHILDREN’S, BOYS’ AND ‘YOUTHS’ SHOES MANUFACTURED AT OUR FACTORY, ROCHESTER, N. Y. (@¥ Ladies desiring stylish dress shoes, with faultless fit, should buy our Shoes. A size once fitted to the foot can always be relied on to fit afterward. Send a postal card to our address for the name of the dealer in your place selling our shoes. New York Office, 125 Duane St. HOUGH & FORD, Rochester, N. Y. INVALID ROLLING CHAIR. AGENTS WANTED, “ENCENOMES, Somehine (RECLINING) « entirely new and complete mo- noi nopoly, Sure sales and large profits. Send stamp for full descrip- A Priceless Boon to tion and terms. E. W. RIDER. Racine, Wis. those who are unable to walk. Largest Factory ’ aa sae and BEST CHAIRS in ARNES’ POPULAR HISTORY OF THE U. 5. the World, Send for circular to only manufacturers of re- eee aka, ata pao and ; clining rolling chairs. REST CHAIR CO., New Haven, Ct. For young and old in every family. : Price, $13.50. Agents fj wanted. A. S. BARNES & CO., 111 William St., N. Y. QYMENT GOOD SALARY AND .— —— —— ——— ALL EXPENSES PAID At home or to travel; state which preferred alsosalary wanted. SLOAN & CO.Manufacturers & Dealers, 294 George 8t., Cincinnati, O. t Wholesale 46 Tue Best Cure in THE Wor-p for coughs, colds, and 99 = “ NEW PATTERNS! consumption is Cutler Bros. & Co.'s Well-known Boston . Vegetable Pulmonary Balsam, | Send for Illustrated Circulars, to ~~ Be) A.M. LESLIE SURCICAL INST. CO, — St. Louis, Miao. Mention THE COSMOPOLITAN. aril MADE EASY, by using Carbutt’s Key- stone Dry Pilates for Views, Portraits, and ‘Transparencies, The most popular Dry Plate with Amateurs, and the easiest to obtain success with. Send for Descrip- DS 2 A ~ tive Circular to me DIES ? JOH CARRUTE ware Keystont Dry PLate Works, f L ive K | N > Wayne Junction, Philadelphia, Pa. HABIT Cured without suffering. No Rest al luster and finish to the shoe. Only OPI U y tilleured, O.S. SARGENT, M.D eomchen Walk ok reoiees a Polish without shrink- ee Taasemnens Park, Boston. a cracking, or ni g aed i its contains Souble the quenth of other dress- . Gold M received at New | ; 1000 gefiy overall ther. Your Shoe Dealer has it. Manuf. SEE HERE ! Morne wert stalogue, Big GEO. H. WOOD & CO. BOSTON. pay to Agents, CHICAGO SCALE Co., Chicago,

Page 108

18 THE COSMOPOLITAN. LABOR-SAVING DEVICES FOR MERCANTILE AND PUBLIC OFFICES. CONSISTING OF The Shannon File and Filing Cabinet, with Transfer Cases and Indexes, FOR FLAT PAPERS. The United States Document Files and Filing Cabinets, IN IRON OR WOOD, FOR FOLDED PAPERS. Iron Roller Book-Shelves, FOR PUBLIC OFFICES. Automatic Adjustable Iron Shelving, FOR ALL PURPOSES. Schlicht’s Standard Indexes, TABULAR FORM, FOR PUBLIC OFFICES HAVING FROM TWENTY THOUSAND TO ONE MILLION OR MORE NAMES. SIDE-CUTTINGS FORM, FOR SAVINGS BANKS AND MERCANTILE OFFICES HAVING FROM TWELVE HUNDRED TO FIFTY THOUSAND OR MORE NAMES. Rapid Roller Damp-Leaf Copier, FOR THE EXPEDITIOUS COPYING OF ALL PAPERS. The Shannon Standard and Single Arch Files. The Shannon Sheet Music and Pamphiet Binders. The Eagle Board Clips, MADE OF STEEL, WITH DOUBLE SPRINGS. SOME OF OUR REPRESENTATIVES: New YorK FILE AND INDeEx Co., Limited, - 52 and 54 Reade Street, New York. PENNSYLVANIA FILE AND INDEx Co., Limited, 30 South Third Street, Philadelphia, Pa, WESTERN FILE AND INDEx Co., - - - 10g Wabash Avenue, Chicago, III. WESTERN FILE AND INDEx Co. (Southwestern Office), Opera House Bldg., Dallas, Tex. WESTERN FILE AnD Inpex Co. (Northw’n Office), 1 Hennepin Blk., Minneapolis, Minn. Tue Scauicut & Fievtp Co., Limited, - - 31 Adelaide St., E., Toronto, Ontario. Scuiicut & FIEtD Co., - - - 622 F Street, N. W., Washington, D. C. Geo. H. RicHter & Co. - - - - 171 Devonshire Street,’ Boston, Mass. SHANNON FILE Co,, Limited, North Street, Moorfields, London, E. C., England. SHANNON REGISTRATOR Co.,- - - Charlottenstrasse, 67, Berlin, W., Germany. SHANNON CLASSEUR CIE.,- - - - - - - - - Paris, France. Also, Agencies in other principal cities throughout the world. SEND FOR CATALOGUE. SCHLICHT & FIELD CO., - - ROCHESTER, N. Y.

Page 109

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. 19 MERSON’S ALBUMENOID FOOD is rapidly taking x 5 the place of all other food preparations. The results _ P prep G WEE Z IL 72 4) obtained by its use often seem wonderful, but, when it is under- stood what innumerable disorders have their origin in the stomach and digestive organs, and that EMERSON’S FOOD UJ M E N is soothing and healing to these organs, and at the same time is a powerful and invigorating nutriment, which the feeblest baby’s stomach will digest, it is not at all wonderful. It is nevertheless strictly a food, and contains no drug, medicine, stimulant, or artificial aid to digestion, nor has it been treated with any so-called predigestive, It is pure and wholesome food, and benefits because it amply nourishes but does not consume vital force in the process of digestion. To feed an infant on a- poor, weak, innutritious diet is worse than folly. If you would have your child strong and wish to lay the foundation of a good constitution, pure, whole- some, and nutritious food must be given. EMERSON’S ALBUMENOID FOOD is, therefore, the best food for WEANING INFANTS and as a regular diet. For CHOLERA INFANTUM, CHOLERA MORBUS, and CHOLERA it is indispensable) For NURSING MOTIIERS, WEAK and EN- FEEBLED INFANTS AND CHILDREN, the AGED and INFIRM, the OVERWORKED and EXHAUSTED, it is the most STRENGTHENING and INVIGORATING food that one can possibly obtain. For DYSPEPSIA, CONSTIPATION, WEAK or DISORDERED STOMACHS it is a per- fect cure. For NAUSEA, even SEA SICKNESS, it is QUIETING and STRENGTHENING. For FEVERS it is valuable because not heating, yet very nutritious. Physicians heartily endorse and recom- mendit. IT WILL BENEFIT ANY ONE WHO TAKES IT, and may often be profitably sub- stituted for the ordinary meal. EVERY ONE OUGHT TO KEEP IT IN THE HOUSE READY FOR USE IN CASE OF . NEED. For sale by PARK & TILFORD, ACKER, MERRALL & CONDIT, and GROCERS and DRUGGISTS generally. EMERSON MANUFACTURING CO., 43 Park Place, New York. WM. SCHWARZWAELDER & CO. Roll Top Desks and General Office Furniture, 259 PEARL STREET, NEW YORK CITY. i SEND FOR CATALOGUE AND PRICE LISTS. (Mention Tue CosMoPoLitAN.)

Page 110

THE COSMOPOLITAN. For nearly half a Century LOWELL CARPETS HAVE BEEN ACKNOWLEDGED The word “LOWELL” APPEARS IN CAP- ITAL LETTERS in the back of Lowell, Wilton, and Body Brusselsat every re- peat of the pattern. LOOK CAREFULLY to the trade-marks, and be sure you get the genuine LOWELL Carpets. THE LOWELL INGRAINS are wound upon a hollow stick, which the U. S. Court decided to be a valid trade-mark, * The stick is in two solid pieces with the name of the LOWELL CO. stamped within. BEWARE OF iM- TATIONS. BY ALL TO BE THE These goods are invariably full width, and may be had in a large variety of designs, which for technique and coloring are unequaled, rendering them especially appropriate for artistic homes. The grade has never been lowered, and the Company un- hesitatingly challenge comparison with the production of any manufacturer in the world. For sale at attractive prices by First-class Dealers. THEE JACKSON CORSE WAIST Great Success. ComBINATION WalIsT Corser. Pat. Feb, 23, 1886. Made Price List. Button or Steel front, in Sateen, Silesia, The most sensible. As shapely as a corset. Gives perfect support to the back. Asa Health garment it stands pre-eminent, The rapid increase in sales is a sure guarantee to each lady of its merits, not satisfactory, the money will be re- funded. Ask your Merchants for them, or send the JACKSON CORSET CO., Jackson, Mich., $1.25 for Sample and Flannel, and Gauze. Canvassers Wanted, BE DRESS STAYS. Soft, Pliable, and absolutely Unbreakable. Standard Quality, 15 cents per yard. Cloth covered, 20 cents. Satin covered, 25 cents. For sale everywhere. Try IT! OUR NIAGARA “rit'wever FREEZE. FORGE PUMP or introduction in your pet name dealers’ prices for single FI ump. State depth of LD FORCE PUMP 'c 0., Lockport, N.Y. OPIUM “3 cured A new method. C. HOFFMAN, Jefferson, Wisconsin. form Quarterly. After a week’s trial, if MRS. E. M. VAN BRUNT’S Dress Reform Parlors, No. 39 E, 19th St., New York. Hygienic and Artistic UNDERWEAR Fer Women and Children. Sole Agent for Miss C. Bates’ Dress Reform Garments. JERSEY-FITTING Undergarments. In Silk, Wool, Merino, and Lisle, in Stock or Made to Order. Av ALL Times A Futt Line or Ferris Bros. CELEBRATED Good Sense Waists. CORDED WAISTS for ail ages, ‘‘ Breakfast Cor- sets,”” Dress Forms, Stocking : Supporters, Abdominal Band- ages, Sanitary Towels, Bustle~ etc., made of best material. Corsets for Corselettes for Bathers. Send for Dress Re- Mailed free. Orders by Mail a Specialty. Equestriennes, Sea Shore Bates’ Waist. MAIL CHUTES. (Patented.) U. —— By authority of the Post Office De- partment this modern convenience is now being supplied to Office Buildings in the leading cities by the sole makers, THE CUTLER MANUFACTURING CO., Rochester, N. Y. By zeoure mail. Full i} Doceeinsion Moody’s New Tallor 8: Cutting. MOODY & CO.. Cincinnati, 0 TRAIN UP A CHILD Coop SENSE m, FITS ALL AGES—Infants to Adults. sav> CEA fe RETAILERS ‘j stamped “GOOD 8S NSE.” “Take ne other. Send for =~ ‘ad circular. p FERRIS BROS. Sa ome MARSHALL FIELD & ti. “CHICAGO,

Page 111

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. - JUDGE’S SERIALS—No. 1. THE MAN WHO TALKS A New Book from the Office of “Judge,” Tastefully Printed and Bound in Convenient Shape for the Pocket, and Fully ILLUSTRATED BY JUDGE'S ARTISTS. 48 Pages. Price, 10 Cents. HUMOROUS, LAUGHABLE, AND INVIGORATING. A WELL-TOLD TALE. A VERITABLE HOT-WEATHER BOOK. FULL OF ADVENTURE AND VERACITY. “The Man Who Talks” is a well-known individual whom you have all met and sworn at. He has talked to you before, but this is the first time he has been given “leave to print.” His little adventures and romances are now placed before you in an attractive and graphic style—and a chrome yellow cover— all for the modest consideration of ten cents. If you are in search of a book that will drive away despondency, and permit you to enjoy life at your summer abiding place, you need look no further. It is here. If you feel lonely, heartsick, and weary, and want something to help you pull on the sheet ropes and go off on another tack, the ‘ ‘something” is on deck at the present moment ready and anxious to pull. If you are a man or woman struggling for wealth and the necessaries of life at the seashore; if you are killing time and mosquitoes on an interior farm; if you are anathematizing fate and the brass lined rooster in the back yard in the mountains; or if you are traveling on the rail for pleasure, recreation, and profit, and incidentally for the house you represent, “The Man Who Talks” will help you grasp the situation by the business end, and turn its somber-hued side up towards the sunlight of hilarity. In short, it is just the book you want. Ask any Newsdealer or Train Boy for it, or send ro cents to THE JUDGE PUBLISHING CO., 38 PARK ROW, NEW YORK.

Page 112

THE COSMOPOLITAN. Have You Care P Read OUTING, the superbly illustrated magazine of recreation, and discover how to lighten it. Is Life a Perpetual Grind ? Learn how to find time for proper recreation, and discover the mean- ing of recreation in its broadest and best sense by reading how other people let in the sunshine upon their lives. oO uling Aside from the enjoyment afforded by the perusal of its bright pages, it is worth ten times its price in the mere saving of doctors’ bills. The New York 7Zribune says: ‘‘OUTING is as wholesome in its spirit as the breath of a pine forest, and a constant inspirer of a love of nature.” It is recognized as the handsomest magazine in the world wholly devoted to out of doors; and the quality of its literature and its art place it on a par, in these particulars at Tost, with the greatest and best mage- zines. Each issue contains literature, art, information, discussion, and humor, covering the use of the bicycle and tricycle, the yacht, the canoe, the tennis racquet, the amateur photographic camera, the rod, the gun, the bow and arrow, as well as the field of travel, pleasure resorts, the study of nature, physical culture, and the recreations of home. WHAT THE CRITICS SAY: “* The finest in the world.”—Portland Transcript. “A very readable and handsome magazine.”—NMew York Nation. *“* Live editors and bright contributors.” — The Congregationalist. “Invaluable to any one loving outdoor life.”— Boston Herald. “OUTING is a visitor whose welcome never fails, and whose good qualities become more apparent with every issue.”—New York Tribune. **It is difficult to determine how a magazine devoted to the same specialties could be more fully or successfully conducted.”—7roy (N.Y.) Budget. ‘OUTING is in some respects the freshest and most ine, of our magazines. It has a distinct place to fill, and it proves itself adequate to the occasion.”—New York World. *‘It is winning its way into popular favor, and should, for it aims to encourage the whol and cx dable in outdoor exercises and amusements.” — The Lutheran Visitor. “OUTING is doing a great work in upholding legitimate out- door sport, and its constant growth shows how its efforts are appre- ciated.” —Lowell (Mass.) Courter. “OUTING isa publication of the highest character, devoted to honorable and manly sports, and as such merits the generous support of all lovers of innocent and healthful recreation.”"—Albany Yournad. “OUTING, a brilliant, newsy magazine, printed in New York, gives more fresh information on all reputable open-air sports and recreations, in attractive style, than any other journal ever printed in this country, and it makes use of good English.”—Cincinnati Trap and Trigger. SUBSCRIBE NOW. $3.00 a Year. Single Copies, 25 Cents. Outing 140 Nassau St., New York.

Page 113

ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT. 23 The Great Rural Publishing House of the World. OUR SEPTEMBER BULLETIN OF PUBLICATIONS. Practical Floriculture, ; . vation of Florists’ Plants. larged. By PETER HENDERSON. Cloth, 12mo. Gardening for Profit,. ‘ ? : $2.00 By Peter HENDERSON. A new, entirely re- written, and greatly enlarged edition of this well-known standard work. The best book on market and family gardening. Fully illustrated. Cloth, 12mo. The Propagation of Plants, . $1.50 By ANDREW S. FULLER, Describing the pro- cesses of hybrydizing and crossing species and varieties, and also of the many different modes by which cultivated plants may be propagated and multiplied. Illustrated with numerous engravings. Cloth, 12mo, Every Man His Own Veterinarian, $2.50 By Geo. S. HeaTLey. A Practical Manual of the Diseases of Domestic Animals, with their Remedies. . $1.50 | A Guide to the successful Propagation and Culti- | Re-written and En- | Through the Yellowstone Park on Horseback, Fourth Edition, ° ° : - $1.50 By Gen, Gro. W. WINGATE, the noted rifleman, and one of the founders of Creedmoor. Most rofusely illustrated by Forbes, Cary, and eos: Cloth, r2mo, The Pleasures of a Pigeon Fancier, By Rev. J. Lucas. Plates. Fly-Fishing and Fly-Making for Trout, etc., $1.50 Illustrated with Colored 1.50 By J. HARRINGTON KEENE, Fully illustrated, and with Plates of the Actual Material for making Flies of every variety. Cloth, beveled boards, 12mo. The Bridle Bits, ; ‘ - . $1.00 A Treatise on Practical Horsemanship. By Col. J. C. BaTrerssy. Cloth, r2mo. How to Handle and Educate Vicious Horses, $0.50 By Oscar R. GLEASON. Cloth, 12mo. STANDARD PUBLICATIONS. Profits in Poultry. Useful and Ornamental Breeds, 4 : ‘ i . $1.00 The cheapest and most valuable publication ever issued on this industry. Contains the combined experience of practical men in all the depart- ments of Poultry Raising. Edited by WELD, Jacoss, and Ferris. Over roo illustrations. Cloth, 12mo. The Dogs of Great Britain, America, and other Countries, : . . $2.00 New and enlarged edition, brought down to date. roo illustrations. Household Conveniences, With over 200 Engravings. ‘ ° -pI.50 A most useful Bs mg filled with valuable Hints and Suggestions for doing all kinds of work in the Household. $1.25 Finely illustrated. Eggleston’s Hoosier School-Master, By Epwarp EGGLESTON. Cloth, r2mo. Eggleston's End of the World, $1.50 A Love Story. By EDWARD EGGLESTON, 32 fine illustrations. Cloth, 12mo. Eggleston’s Mystery of Metropolisville, $1.50 Wonderfully graphic, intensely vivid, and thor- oughly human. By EDWARD EGGLEsTON. Finely illustrated. Cloth, r2mo. Field Notes on Apple Culture, $0.75 By Frof. L. H. BAILey, Jr., of the Agricultural College of Michigan. The Law of Field Sports, ; $1.00 By GEO. PUTNAM SMITH. Rules of Law Affectin American Sportsmen, embracing the Laws of 1887. Cloth, 12mo. Long’s Ornamental Gardening for Americans, 2.00 A Treatise on Beautifying Homes, Rural Districts and Cemeteries. A plain and practical work at a moderate price, with numerous illustrations, and instructions so plain that they may be readily followed. By Exias A. Lone, Land- scape Architect. Illustrated. Cloth, r2mo. Barry’s Fruit Garden, : é 2 $2.00 A standard work on Fruit and Fruit Trees; the author having had over 30 years’ practical experience at the head of one of the largest nurseries in this country. New edition, revised up to date—Invaluable to all Fruit growers. By P. Barry. Illustrated, Cloth, r2mo. Heinrich’s Window Flower Garden, $0.75 By Jutius J. Hemnricu. The author is a practical Florist, and this rece a na volume embodies his personal experiences in Window Gardening during a long period. With more than 7o illus- trations. Cloth,rz2mo New and revised ed, The AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, or September, Volume 46, is the most superb number of this periodical ever issued. It contains nearly roo original illustrations pertaining to the Farm, Garden, and Household, and contributions from the leading writers in the country. (a8 AW books sent postpaid on receipt of published price. SPORTSMAN’S COMPANION.—New Edition.—Most elegantly and beautifully illustrated. Forty pages of descriptions of standard books for Sportsmen. Sent on receipt of 5 cents for mailing. SENT FREE.—New Edition.—Our beautifully illustrated, 32mo Catalogue, containing descriptions of 300 of our different publications on Out-door Life, will be sent free to any one forwarding by postal card his address to us, the Publishers, 751 Broadway, New York. O. JUDD CO., DAVID W. JUDD, Pres., Publishers and Importers of all Works Pertaining to Rural Life, 751 BROADWAY, - NEW YORK.

Page 114

THE COSMOPOLITAN. ‘INDURATED FIORE WARE. ®eeee ce SEAMLESS e @ @ @ @ ®@ PAILS TUBS — ASINS———— Water Coolers— MILK PANS—— KEELERS ——SPITTOONS Umbrella Stands ——SLOP JARS Etc., Etc. EVERY ARTICLE WARRANTED. "T|OULDED in one piece from wood pulp. Treated chemically, giving great strength and durability, and at same time making the ware IMPER- (dik) ~=NNOUS to liquids, hot or cold. Being neither painted nor varnished, it wil not Impart taste to anything put In It, and will not further absorb tiquid or odor so as to become heavier or foul. Is very light. Has no hoops to drop or rust off. Warranted absolutely seamless and unaffected by extremes of weather. Ask your grocer or hardware dealer to show you these goods. If he does not keep them send us his name, PORTLAND, ME. WATERTOWN, MASS. t FACTORIES: MECHANICVILLE, N. Y. OSWECO, N. Y. LOCKPORT, N. Y. WINONA, MINN. UNION INDURATED FIBRE CoO., escera't 110 Chambers St., New York. 39 Wabash Ave., Chicago.

Page 115

> * . : : a . on } . Ai ; ° . oe ‘ : . F nN ° E *

Page 116

a oe spiel

Page 117

For Forty Years Used and Endorsed by Eminent Physicians, Surgeons, Hospitals, and the People throughout Europe ahd America. Invaluable for Piles, Sores, Wounds, Siunbarna, Chafings, Stings, Inflamed Eyes, Sore Throat; Sore Feet, Toothache, Brnises,.Scalds, Burns, and all Pain. THE BEST RECOMMENDED and Best-known Remédy in Use. The Pulpit, . the Bar, the Bench, the Army, the Navy, and distinguished people in all the ranks of life unite in praising it. f we See Trade-mark on Bottle above.. Name on every bottle. Beware of Imitations. POND’S EXTRACT, PRICE, 50 Cents, $1.00, and $1.75: FOR SALE EVERYWHERE, Send for History. of POND’S EXTRACT CO.’S Preparations ; sent free on application to POND’S EXTRACT CO.,°76 Fifth Avenue, New York. PROVERBIAL Saget at Ae “BE PATIENT and you will have patient children.” Don't free | about your house-cleaning ; it sensibly with You'll “ wonder at your auld shoon when you hae gottes your new If you'll use SAPOLIO igstead of other meana for scouring. The old ruts and old methods are not the easiest by far. Many people travel them because they have not tried the better way. It is a relief from a sort of slavery to break away from old fashioned methods and adopt the labor- saving and strength-sparing inventions of modern times, | Get out ef old ruts and into new ways by using a cake of SAPOLIO in your house-cleaning. No, 31. SAPOLIO. Married. life is mado of many.trials and | troubles, not the least of which is how % keep your house clean snd neat. Saporzo is a boon to | women. With it she can clean her housein half | the time and with half the trouble, Time, trouble and money can be saved by using @aro.io. Teach your children how to use it,too. If you don’t, you will neglect their education. If you do, they will bless you when they become wives for ha’ taught them the use of Saroiio, No.

Page 118

a est LIFE POLICY AM Claims a = BATTERSON,, Pres a Orit | Acelient. 6 = Ps Specs Best oti Life Companies. - ACCIDENT. POLICIES, nercaen a se PAD POLICY-HOLDERS $13,406,000. paid witheut on receipt of Satisfi 4 Aisots, $9, 111,000. Surplus, $2,129,000. _. JOHN EB. MORRIS, Ass’t See. OH LO rng Ne ors Peat in in . the Market * falta, Non-F ‘orfeitable, + World-Wide. Diacount, and immediately ‘actory Proofs. RODNEY DENNIS, Sec. ah 7 OPPOSITE. Crand Central Depot, NEW YORK crry. : j rrivi ‘Grand Central Depot save cartise .7 Hire ool Bate a by ont ne at this Hotel. B00 ROOMS, | gx. oo PER “DAY> and upwards. ) EUROPRAN PLAN. First-Class Rabeiichnts at Moderate Prices. « A ee ) Baggage to and from Grand Central Depot” Free, Send 2-cent postage stamp for128-page book, entitled “* How tw Know New York.”” “Phe bestgitide to the city ever gotten With Complete Map. W.D, GARRISON, Maxscen ap Grand Union Hotel “SHADELAND’ _ PURE-BRED LIVE STOCK ESTABLISHMENT, IN. THE, WORLD; NEW IMPORTATIONS | artiving from. time to tins: Rare individual excel- lence and choicest : Clydesdale Forse | Petcheron , eee French Draft-Horses, Ehbpglish Draft-Horses, Standard-Bred ‘Trotters, Cleveland Bays and French Coachers; Saddiers and Carriage Horses, .- Iceland and Shetland Ponies; . Holstein-Friesian and Devon Cattle, Our eters have dg atom a of odr masty years’ n breeding Tmport: ior quadity, ea kane ndlitec te mo ity of . cont lange-watle paring “in ‘breeds 7" and low prices e of our unegquajed facilities, extent of business, ad low rates of mo, a lai No othef establishment in the world offerssuch advantages" tothe purchaser, a ES. LOW! “TERMS EASY! | Visitérs. welcome. a, Circulars Free: “POWELL BROS., SPRINGBORO, CRAWFORD CO., PA, oe MON “3S plz “a Be :STUOOIOIEA, © a O A. N O.L A, | Ah AE ad { aoud oy s0yunb-suo 9% BupSz0-odid jo souoy oy) TY “go3sSOg Se juowlss y 20 *9Un} JO HO Jonou—‘wellzo-odid: 9yj -ayyuN ‘Ss NOCY DISAN When.you ve wention Tux Vecidpiewedns : ay} jo OS wosy sutTePS osoy) Buyutzyues uoesydde uo srepnonD "eIqdjapenyg oa os sm fri CROSBY'S VITALIZED PHOSPHITES: Strengthens the lok tt, Builds Lost Functions, © s all W pees oo, _ 56 West; RELATE. REA Sd * Da cas, ye B WorwOat Nerves, Promotes Good Digests Rest Has been tyeictnan fer: ervousness. used You. For sale by Draggists, GAMES LE Seer et et i alle by mail, $1.¢

Page 119