WEEKLY HERALD: PLATiSLlOUTH, NEBRASKA, OCTOBER g 1890.
THE OCTOROON
A. HTOltr Of SI A WHY HAYS.
BY MISS M. E. Bit ADDON.
CHAPTER XV.
ITEIt Augustus
lloiton liad read
the paragraph in
thu New Orleans
paper a para
graph In every
way calculated to
.vound t He sensi
tive nature of tho
Octoroon he
looked toward C ra to see what effect
tho Insult had had upon her and Gilbert
Margrave.
They with seated side by side, and ap
peared engrossed in conversation, ap
parently unconscious of all that was pass
ing around thorn. Thu plantar throw
down tho riewnpuper with a smothered
ejaculation of rage.
'Curse her!' lie muttered; "is there
no way to huruhlo that proud soul? He,
the Englishman, U by her side, deferen
tial a If he wern talking to a quen. No
matter 1 my turn wlil come."
He withdrew to the saloon with a
crowd of friend and satellites who
flocked round him an one of the richest
planters of Louisiana.
William Bowen had lost a handful of
dollar at tho gaming-table, and followed
""Tils patron, Silas Craig, in order to ob
tain a fresh supply from that gentle
man. The deck wan therefore almost de
serted. A few pas-songer.s, ladies and
gentlemen, lounged here and there,
upon the comfortable benches ; the ladies
employed In some elegant needle-work,
the gent'emen smoking; Cora and Gil.
bert Margrave Bat apart, and out of hear
ing of the rest.
"Tell me. Miss Leslie," said Gilbert, a
Augustus Horton left the deck. w.V.- lid
you prevent my Inflicting npou that man
the chastisement which he so richly de
Berred? Why do you compel roe to ro
maln silent and Buffer you to be insulted
with impunity?"
"Beoauee I would not have you resent
that which. In Louisiana, U oonkidered a
Justifiable prejudice. I pardon Augus
tus Horton a I pardon hi sisiet Ade
laide, who was once my friend."
Oh ! do not apeak of her. Miss Leslie,
my contempt "
"Nay, Mr. Margrave! it is you who
are mistaken in all thin. ou are a
fit ranger here, and your nobhj conduct
of today may comproralw you in the
yes of every colonist in Louisiana.
Your place is not here by the side of me,
anOetoroon; you should be wPh Ade
laide Horton, a high-born daughter of
the European race."
"If nobility of race is to be judged of
by the elevation of the soul, it is you,
and not Mint Horton, who can claim the
loftiest birth," replied Gilbert, with
emotion.
"You deceive yourself, Mr. Margrave,"
6ald Cora; "Adelaide has a generous
heart, and I know that in Becret she re
grets our broken friendship you, above
all others, should be indulgent to her
faults."
"I?"
"Yes," replied Cora, her long black
eyelashes drooping beneath the English
man's ardent gaze; "amongst all her
English admirers, there was one alone
for whom she lelt any real regard. Do
jou know whom I mean?"
"No, Miss Leslie, uor do I wish to
$:now," answered Gilbert, with energy ;
1 itov amongst all the young girls who
Kiorned the farewell ball given by Mrs.
Montresor, there was one and one alone
to whom my dazzled eyes turned as the
star or the brilliant throng. Do yon
know whom I mean?"'
Cora did not answer ; but a vivid blush
suffused her face at the young engineer's
question.
"See," continued Gilbert, opening his
sketch book ; "do you remember the
bouquet which you left upon aside table
in the anteroom. In the center of that
bouquet bloomed this tiny blue flosver,
which we Englishmen call the forget-me-not.
It is withered now. Say, Cora,
can you forgive the hand which stole the
blossom?"
The blush faded from the cheek of the
Octoroon, and clasping her hands en
treatingly, she exclaimed with earnest
ness "Oh, Mr. Margrave, reflect! An idle
word, idly spoken, may occasion evil of
which you cannot dream. It is to your
honor, I appeal ! You would not inflict
new sorrow upon a heart already almost
broken. What would that flower say?
that in its brief hour of bloom and fresh
ness Cora Leslie was admired. The
flower has withered, and the hopes of
raj life have faded like the frail petals
of that poor blossom."
"No. Cora, no ! The flower has but one
meaning says. 'I love you!'"
"Mr !" cried Coia, with an exclamation
almost of terror. "But do you forget
who I am? Do you forget that I am an
Octoroon, the daughter of a slave?"
"I forget all, but that I love you."
Do you not know that in this coun
try it is considered a disgrace to bestow
an honorable affection upon a creature
of the despised race, and that the shame
attached to me would attach itself also
to you?"
"I know all, Cora, but I love you -1
lovfc you !" cried Gilbert, falling on his
knees at the young girl's feet.
Cora sank into a chair and covered
her face with her hands.
"Cora, you weep !"
"I do," she replied, in faltering ao
cents, "1 feel myself so despised and
abandoned in this cruel country ; and It
is so sweet to hear words of love and con
eolation from from one "
"Ah, Cora, speak speak, I Implore!"
"From one we love !"
"Cora, my adored," exclaimed Gilbert,
with rapture, clasping her hand and seat
ing himself by her.
They had not Veen unwatched during
this Interview. The eyes of jealoupy
were upon the unconscious lovers, for
Adelaide Horton bad emerged from
.nlnnn and t? if ni? at tho buck of (ha
llttla tohlu h.iH henrrt tlio latlnr n.rt
nr.r,-L; ' . i
Sho knew the worst now. This man
this man to whom she had given her
heart, unasked and unsought, loved and
was beloved by the despised daughter of
a slave. Wounded pride, jealousy, re
venge, humiliation, all mingled in the
passionate emotion of that moment.
Blind with anger 6he knew not what she
did.
By this time the deck of the Selma was
crowded with passengers. Augustus
Horton still carried the New Orleans pa
per in his hand and was talkiDg to Silas
Craig about the attack upon Mr. Leslie.
"Confess now, you sly old fox," he said,
laughing, "you are the author of this
article? Why bo too modest to own so
good a work ?"
Gilbert Margrave started from his
eat,
Now. Cora ." he whispered. "I can no
M
iodkit rfumm Mimt. i nave now a rrgnt j
to defend you."
The captain "of tho Selma at thi mo- '
merit joined the group around Augustus
Horton. j
"You are talking of the article in the
Now Orleans Messenger,' ae you not,
gentlemen?" he said.
"We are, a itain," replied Augustus,
"and here is the author." he added,
pointing to Craig.
"Then, allow me to compliment you,
tlr!" said the captain, addressing Silas.
You have done a service to society, and
I hope the colonists will take warning."
"'I hat they will never do," said Ade
laide Horton. advancing to the center of
tho group, "while you permit a mulat
tress to take her idnce ob board your
boat amongst the free citizens of New
Orleans."
She pointed as she spoke to Cora, who
had advanced with Gilbert Margrave.
There was a simultaneous movement
of Biirpi ise amount the passengers, is
if a pistol had suddenly been fired upon
the deck.
As Adelaide uttered these words. Mrs.
! Montresor and Mortimer Percy emerged
lrom the saloon, and watched the scene
which was taking place.
"What do you mean, Miss Horton?"
asked the captain. "Oh ! Adelaide.
Adelaide," murmured Mortimer, "this s
despicable !"
Terrified at and ashamed of what she
had done, tho jealous girl hid her face in
her hands and retired rapidly from the
deck, followed by her aunt.
"I will toll -ou, sir, what Miss Horton
rueuat," sai Cora, advancing to the
captain; "she would have told you that
I am Gerald Leslio's daughter."
"In that case, madam," replied the
captain, " you must be aware "
"I hat my place is with tho slaves at
the other end of the steamer. Pardon
me, sir. for having forgotten my real po
sition f"
With one proudly disdainful glance at
Augustus Horton, Cora 6lowly retired.
The passengers watched her In silence,
wondering how the strange scene would
end.
Gilbert Margrave advanced to Augus
tus Horton, and addressed him in a tone
of qult determination, far more impres
sive than the loudest passion.
"Mr. Horton," he said, "tho insult in
flicted upon Miss Leslie waa offered also
to me, siiico I was by her side at tho
time. Whether her cause be just or un
just, I ius'st you underhand, sir, I In
sist upon an immediate reparation for an
act which I consider an abominable cow
ardice." "As you please, sir," replied the
planter. "I snail land at Iberville."
"Enough. I also will land there."
"Why not throw the Englishman over
board?" said Craijc, in an undertone to
some of the passengers.
Augustus Horton overheard the words
and turned fiercely upon the lawyer.
"I allow ro interference in this," he
6aid ; "tho quarrel U mine alono. Percy,
you will be my second?"
"Pardon me," replied Mortimer Percy,
"as Mr. llarcrave is a stranger in Lou
isiana, he may have difficulty in finding
any one to assist him In this matter. You
will excuse me, therefore, if I give him
the preference."
"As you please," answered Augustus
indifferently.
Gilbert grasped the hand of his old
friend: "Thanks, Mortimer," he whis
pered, "your heart Is generous as ever."
"Perhaps you won't mind having me
for a second, Mr. Horton," said William
Bowen ; "I'm rather an old hand in that
sort of affairs."
Augustus glanced at him with one
brief look of contempt, but replied, after
a pause, "Be it so, Mr. Bowen ; I accept
your services. This evening, then, Mr.
Margrave. Wo meet at 6unset in the
wood on t he borders of Mr. Craig's plan
tation at Iberville."
"We shall be punctual," answered Gil
bert. CHAPTER XVI.
HILE the Selma
steamed proudly
past the banks of
the Mississippi,
the inhabitants
of New Orleans
were occupied by
tho discussion of
an event which
had taken place
on the previous
night, but which
had only been
discovered early
that morning,
ran! Lisimon
had escaped from prison.
When Silas Craig and Augustus Hor
ton took their places on board the Selma,
they little dreamed that their victim had
escaped them.
Nevertheless it was so. The turnkey
who visited the cell occupied by the
young Mexican at eight o clock on the
morning after his arrest, found to his be
wilderment, that the dreary apartment
was empty. The bars of the narrow win
dow had been cut away, and a file, left
upon the floor of the cell, told of patient
labor which had occupied the prisoner in
the slUmce of the ni.?ht.
A iopc. ue end of which was attached
to tli- stump of one of the bars, also
told of tJse i.iode uf escape.
One thing was sufficiently clear. Paul
Lisimon had received assistance from
without. He had been searched upon
his entrance into the prison, and nothing
of a suspicious character had been found
about him ; the tile and rope had, there
fore, been conveyed to him by 6ome
mj'storious hand.
The astonished officials of the jail
looked from one to the other, not know
ing what to suspect.
The escape seemed almost incredible ;
fori in order to regain his liberty, the
prisoner had not only to descend from
the window of his cell, which was thirty
feet above the prison yard, but he had
also to scale the outer wall, which was
upward of twenty feet high, and sur
mounted by a formidable chevaux de
frise.
How, then, had Paul Lisimon accom
plished a feat hitherto unattempted by
the most daring of criminals?
None suspected the truth of the mat
ter. None could guess at the real clew
i - - a L a .
1 aUl I
Paul Lisimon had neither descended
from the window of
his cell nor scaled
! t ha Alitor i- a 1 1 tt tlit. uricAfi TTa hoH
j walked out of the jail in the silence and
f darkness of the niirlit. and in five min
utes from leaving his cell had found him
self in the streets of New Orleans.
The person who had effected this mi
raculous escape was no other than the
jailer who had charge of Lisimon ; and
this jailer was one of the most trusted
functionaries of the prison.
Sir Kobert Walpole said that every man
has his price ; this man had been richly
bribed by a mysterious visitor, who had
gained admission to tMm jail on the even
ing of Paul's arresW
The rope and &) had been used In
order to blind th vernor of the prison
to the real delinquent.
At daybreak on the morning after his
Imprisonment, Paul Lisimon found hlm
MU tree In the streets of New Orleim.
Imp
m
mm
f
cut urterry ignorant as to rne mysterious
being to whom he owed his release.
The jailer had refused to give him any
information about this person.
"I know nothing of the business," tho
man suld, "except that I am well paid
for my share in it; and that I shall be a
ruived man if I am found out."
l'aul Lisimon was free !
He was free ; but he stood alone in the
world, without a friend branded en a
thief cast off by the protector of his
youth an scaped felon !
He hurried toward the lonely and de
serted quay. Deepalr wm In his heart,
and he yearned to rewt bwueaUi the still
waters of the Mississippi.
"There, at least,' he murmured, "I
shall be at peace. Camlllia now believes
me innocent, and she will weep for my
memory. Were I to wait tho issue of a
trial, which must result In shame and
condemnation, fhe might indeed, as the
Frenchwoman insinuated, learn to de
spise me."
Heedless of all around him, absorbed
in gloomy meditation, Paul Lisimon was
sometime unaware of the sound of a
footfall close beiilnd him. but as he drew
nearerto tho water sido lhi otstep ap
proached him. still closer, end presently,
in the faint gray light of that mysterious
hour, betwixt night and morning, he be
held the long bliA iow of a man's figure
upon the ground beside him.
He started and turned round. As he
did 6o, a heavy hand was laid upon his
shoulder, and a deep Laos voice ex
claimed :
"What do you want with yonder dark
water, my lad, that you're in such a
hurry to get to the river side?"
Paul shook the man's hand away from
his shoulder witti a gesture of anger,
"By whal right do yeti question me?'' be
said : "stand aside, and let at pass !"
"Not till we've had a few words, my
jail bird, answered the stranger.
"Jail bird V
"Yes, mate, jail bird I you've no need
to carry it off so fieroelv with me. A file
and a rope, eh? to blind the governor of
the prison and a good-natured turnkey to
open the doors for you. That's about
the sort of thing, Isn't it?"
Paul Lisimon turned round, and looked
the stranger full in the faoe. He waa
big, broad-shouldered fellow, upward of
six feet high, dressed ki a thick pilot
coat, and immense leather boots, which
eame above his knees. The pilot coat
ws open at the waist, and in the uncer
tain glimmer of the morning light Paul
Lisimon caught sight of the butt end of
a pistol thrust into a leather belt. The
stranger's face had once been a hand
some one, but it bore upon it the traces
or many a debauch, as well as the broad
scar of a cutlass wound, which had left
a deep welt from cheek to chin.
"I know not who you are," paid PauL
after looking long and earnestly at this
man, "nor by what right you havo Inter
ested yourself in my fake ; but it is evi
dent to me that you have had some hand
in my miraculous escape of tonight."
"Never mind that, comrade," answered
the stranger, linkintr his arm In that ef
Paul Lisimon. and walking slowly to
ward the quay. "You're free and wel
come, as far as that goes ; but 1 don't
think, after an old friend had taken a
good bit of trouble to get ye out of that
thundering jail yonder I don't think it
was quite fair to go and try to chuck
yourself into the water."
"You, then, were ray dK.rer?"
"Never you wind whetn'er I was 01
whether I wasn't. Do you know what it
cost to get you out of prison?"
"No."
"Well, near upon a thousand dollars,
my lad."
"And you paid this money! Y'ou, at
utter 6tranger to me, bribed my jailers !"
"Never you mind about fctaat, I say
again ; those that paid the Mieaey for you
didn't grudge a farthing of it. As to be
ins; a stranger, perhaps I'm not quit
that."
You know me, then?"
"Fifteen years ago I knew a little,
curly-haired, black-eyed ehaji, who used
to play about the gardens of a white
walled viihv on tho bunks f ttic Amazon,
and I fancy that you and he are pretty
near relations."
"You knew mo in my childhood; you
knew me in the lifetime f my earliesl
and dearest benefactor."
"I did. It was onl3r last iJght that I
came ashore, and the first thing I heard
in New Orleans was, that Mr. Paul Lisi
mon had been arrested for the robbery ol
his employer, one of tho land sharks
your genteel folks call lawyers. Now,
we seamen are not fond of that breed, so
I wasn't sorry to hear that for onoo a
lawyer had been robbed himself, instead
of robbing other people, so I asked whe
this Mr. Paul Lisimon was that had been
too many guns for his employer, and they
told me that he was a young Mexican,
who had been brought up by Don Juan
Moraquitos. Now I happen to know a
good deal of Don Juan Moraquitos, and
I had never heard befe ef Paul Lisi
mon ; but I had heard of a little curly
haired lad that was once a great favorite
with Don Tomaso CrlvcllL and Don To
rn aso had been a good friend to me. So
that's why your jailer was bribed, and
why you stand a free man in the street!
of New Orleans this morning."
My generous friend, exciaimed
Paul, "this is all so much a mystery to
me that I know not how to thank you
for your goodness."
And I tell yon that I want no thanks.
so let s talk of business. In the first
place what made yoa so aaxious to get
to the water just now? I thought there
was blood in your veins that never yet
ran in those of a coward."
"A coward?"
"Ah, youngster ; the man who ha9 no
better resource when he's down in the
world than t make away with himself
isn't worthy of any other itn."
"And what right had you to suppose
that I contemplated suicide?"
"The right of a good sharp pair of
eyes, my lad. But come, ence more to
business. Do you see yostfer craft at
anchor there, to the right of the harbor?"
Paul looked in the direction to whlcb
the stranger pointed, a4 reeived th
trim masts ola lightly-built schooner.
( "I dt."
"Then you 6eo one of the fastest clip
pers that ever sailed. No rotten timber,
but green oak and locust from stem tc
stern, with not an inch of canvas that
Isn't meant for speed. Den't talk to m
about 3-our steam vessels; lumbering
old Noah's arks, that can't go a good
pace without bursting up and sending
every soul to tarnation smash. See the
Amazon fly before the wind, and thee
you'll know what fast sailing is. If we
Southerners come to handy grips with
the North, let the Yankees look out for
squalls when the Amazon is afloat on the
blue water."
"And you, my friend, are you one oi
her crew?" asked Paul.
"I m her captain, mate, Captain Pren
dergiirs a sailor by profession, and a
rover by choice, and a privateer for
plunder."
"A privateer?"
"Yes. You don't think the word ac
ugly one, do yon? Now listen to me:
you can't go back to Villa Moraquitos
can vou?'
-No."
"And you and Don Juan have Dartec
company ror a long speil?"
"We have."
"Very well. then, w hy not join us? I
ma- have more reasons than one foi
taking an Interest In you. You can't
stay in New Orleans, for by eight o'clock
this morning your escape will b dis
covered. I've a faney that you'd mak
a smart mate on board yonder vessel.
Will you come''
"I will," answered Paul, grasping hU
new friend by the hand. "You at least
trust me you do riot fear to take me od
board your vessel, though tho hand of
suspicion is upon me, and men have
called inn thief. Providence seems tc
have raised you up. as if by a miracle, tc
preserve mo from di-grace, despair, and
death. I am yours fur good or evil; in
weal or woe I will serve you faithfully.
chapter'xvii.
ON JUAN Mor
aquitos was ou
of the first tc
hear of tho es
cape of Paul Lisi
mon. lho leader
must remember
that the Spaniaid
knew noihinur ol
the Infamous
plot devised by
Silas Crai ; at the
i n s 1 1 g a t i on oJ
Augustus Horton. He believed hiH
rroteire to be Kuiltv of the crimo im
puted to him.
He had a secret reason for rejoicing In
the disgrace of the younj Mexican, and
he had a still stronger motive in seeking
the destruction of Paul, since he had be
Kun to suspect the attachment between
Lisimon and Camillia
Ifce hurried to his daughter's apart
ment, in order to inform her of Paul's
escape from prison.
"Now, Camillia, what think j ou of thU
haughty youth who so proudly declared
his innocence?" said Don Juan, after
relating the account he had just heard ol
Lislmon's escape.
"I think as I have ever thought," an
swered Camillia.
"That ho is innocent?"
"Yes!" replied'the Spanish girl.
"Strange, then, that he should have
fled," said Don Juan; "the innocent man
generally awaits to meet the issue cT hla
trial; it is only the jfullty wretch who
flies to hide himself from the avenging
, power of the law he has outraged."
Pauline Corsi had been present during
this brief dialogue, but she had remained
Bilent, with her fingers busy with the
rainbow silks of her embroidery, and her
eyes bent over her work. She raised
them, however, as the Spaniard uttered
those words and looked him full in the
faoe.
"The guilty do not always fly, Don
Juan Moraquitos," she said quietly.
The Spaniard started and looked at
Mademoiselle Corsi with a rapid, but fur
tive glance.
"They sometimes remain for years
upon the scene of their guilt. They defy
the laws which they have outraged, and
triumph In their undiscovered and suc
cessful villainy."
Don Juan laughed mockingly, but a
close observer might have detected an
uneasy quiver of his mustachio-shaded
lip.
"Mademoiselle Corsi appears to speak
from experience," he said. "She has
perhaps known such people?"
"I have known such people," answered
the Frenchwoman in the sumo quiet tone
in which she had first addressed Don
J uan.
"They could be scarcely desirable ac
quaintances for the instructress of
"1 ho daughter of so honorable a man
as yourself. Don Juan," said Paulino, as
if interpreting the thoughts of her em
ployer.
While this conversation was going for
ward between Mademoiselle Corsi and
the Spaniard, Camillia Moraquitos had
strolled out on to the balcony to escape
the watchful eves of her father, and to
conceal tho relief she felt in her lover's
escape. Paulino and JJon Juan were,
therefore, alone. 1 heir eyes met. mere
was something in the glance oi tne
Frenchwoman which told plainly that
her words had no common meaning.
For some moments the gaze of Don
Juan was looted upon that fair face and
those clear and radiant blue e3-es a face
which wa? almost child-like in its deli
cacy and freshness, and which yet, to tho
experienced eye of a physiognomist, re
vealed a nature rarely matched for intel
ligent and cunning.
Don Juan crossed the apartment to the
curtained recess in which Pauline Cors'
was seated, and, placing himself in the
chair opposite to her, grasped her 6lendei
wrist in his muscular hand.
"There is a hidden significance in youx
words," he said.
"Can you not read their meaning, Don
Juan?"
No." v
You cannot?"
I cannot," he answered defiantly.
Say rather that you will not," replied
the Frenchwoman, scornfully. "You
fear to commit yourself by an avowal
which may seem like a confession of
guilt. Shall I tell you the meaning of
those words?"
"Yes."
"You are a brave man, Don Juan Mor
aquitos, you do not fear to hear the
truth?"
"I do not."
"Then listen to me. Those words
have a relation to an event which oc
curred thirteen years ago !"
My memory is no longer that of a
young man, answered lon Juan; "I
cannot remember all the events which
happened at that date."
"Perhaps not; but you can remember
the death of your kinsman, Don Tomaso
Crivelli?"
This time the Spaniard started as if an
adder had stung him. The cold perspi
ration broke out upon his bronzed fore
head, and every vestige of color fled
alike from cheek and lips.
I see vou do remember, said Pau
line Corsi. "You remember the will
which was made on that night. The
will which was witnessed by two men ;
ne of them a sea-faring man whose
name I know not as yet; the other, Wil
Ikim Bowen, then captain of a slaver.
Y'ou remember the sick man's confession.
You remember his dying prayer, that
those dear to him should be protected
by you ; and lastly, Don Juan Moraqui
tos, you remember the draught mixed
by Silas Craig, and which your wife's
brother, Tomaso Crivelli, took from your
hand, two hours before his death !"
"How could you have learned all
this?" gasped the Spaniard.
"I know more than this !" replied
Pauline Corsi, "When the faint gray of
the wintry dawn was stealing through
the half-open 6hutters of the sick cham-
1 J
ber, Tomaso Crivelli lifted himself from
I his pillow in the last agonies of death,
and uttered an accusation "
i "Hold ! hold, woman. I entreat !" cijed
the Spaniard, "you know all! How you
j have acquired that knowledge, save
through some diabolical agency, I know
' not; for the door of the. chamber was
j secured by a lock not easily tampered
with, and those within were not the
rr.ea to betray secret. But, no matter,
youir?W;'U! Why have joa kept si-
in"B xxtr rtnrvmi j err, ft r
"We women are tacticlaus, Don Juan.
I had a motive for my silence !"
"And you speak nw ?"
'Beeaune I think it is time to speak."
lion J uan pared the apartment back
ward and forward with folded arms, and
bis head beut upon his breast.. l'r
ntiy pausing oeiore raunne t-ri h
embroidery frame, he said In a hours?
whisper :
"Do you mean to betrav me?"
"No !"
"Why then tell me all this?"
"Becauso I would ask the reward of
thirteen years' silence."
"And that reward?"
Is easy for you to grant. I am tired
of dependence, even on your goodnestt.
Make me our wife, and' let me share
the wealth acquired by the guilt of
Hhose secrets I know."
I n He Celitii lied.
Oitloi;:l urtrsl .
jiintijr optional courtesies i:
l-e
f numerated that which governs the
con-
div:
i.f persons in crowded public con
ices. South of Mason and rixon's
vcy:
iiin
no man would brave public inion
remaining seated when a v.muan
by :
man
raine-1 a standing positmr. t ,-en
-lie the humblest of her .-.x. A
::ur would argue in such a case
we:.'
that he h:;d paid for his seat. ;::i that
tiie.cfijuel be no more reanoit for his
. i.-i:ig in u street car than if lie were oc
cupying a seat at the opera or at a hotel
tabfe. "
In New York, which is too cosmopolf
tan a city to be cited as -! example
street car etiquette is lecid'-uly variable,
and whe'.':er or not it is iiecssary to va-
t i l
c ue a s.-ar in a laev s ravr is a iiiucn
i. looted -,;cstioji. One thi ig is certain,'
a nil that is, that youth .-: id beauty ap
to l-oth high and low, even the
:.io- t huorish individual hcing; willing to
iviiuquis'i his rights in tavor of a worn-
wiiii .! nair or in" Ilie eves ana a stvi-
ish lignre.
The pcr wage worker, in her failed
cotton gown and with fingers showjn.r
vidences of toil, is rarely the recipient
f sr.ch i-om tesy. Th man in broad-
ciotn. w!!o nas oeen seated m nis lux
urious (..Tice most of the day, keeps his-
seat without a qualm of conscience, and
holds his patier before his face to ob-
druct lhe view of the appealing eyes and
worn n. ;-
Women in public vehicles often ex
hibit a remarkable selfishness and a total
disregard for the comfort of others.
Many of them accept a seat to which
hey have no legal right with a saucy
toss of thv head and without recognizing
the courtesy by as much as a bow or a
thank you.'" An audible expression of
thanks is the least a lady should offer in
exenange mr rne saennce of a place,
ami this uld be tendered as freely to
the threat1. inire clerk as to the dude in
fine raiment. Jenness-Miller Magazine.
Looking for IJKIit at tlie City Hall.
I am 1-iiMing a house. I wanted to
-1 the n-.-;-essary permission to tap the
sW.l-v in;;i:i. and went to the City hall
or that i urposc. I might have gom
':own int: the state of Indiana to havt
si cured t!. permit, but it occurred tc
le th:;t I K'iu better mik hi Chicago. 1
-Ve- 'j.eil i one of the elevators and told
in ilriv'-r what I wanted. lie landed
;:r on the public library floor. I soon
iiscovercil I -was in the wrong place.
I took ;::iother elevator, and told the
Iriver of that one what I wanted. He
.et mo off somewhere and told me where
o go. ! followed his directions, and
'oiitid iirv.'If face to face with Superin
rndent llowland. 1 didn't ask him, for
: saw lie was busy, i founl an officer in
he cori'Mor, and told liiin what I was
tying to get at. He sent me to the
lace where dog licenses are issued, and
sma'-t clerk in that department laughed
.t me.
I didn't blame him very much. I met
friend who has been in the City hall
lace its occupancy, and he conducted
!0 to the proper place. I had lost nearly
1 hour. Why don't the proper authori
ses see that men of intelligence are put
i places where inquiries are made?
Interview in Chicago Tribune.
The Opal.
While most gems owe their tint to the
presence of some foreign coloring mat
r tho many hued and beautiful opal
differs. It is opaque, deriving its beauty
'.om the marvelous property it pos-
. e .t a i j. i . .
sesses oi uecomposmg xne rays oi iignt.
iiid thus reflecting from it3 polished
surface all the colors of the rainbow. It
needs, therefore, no brilliant, but ap
pears to the Lest advantage when alone.
it is at present among the most prized
of gems, and has held its place for ages.
Mark Antony once offered 170,000 for
an opal the size of a hazelnut, but the
owner. Nonius, a Roman senator, pre
ferred exile to parting with his treasure.
In spite of their value opals are unsafe
investments, for time and exposure dim
their luster, while their sensitiveness tc
heat is so great that the warmth of the
hand has been known to crack them.
The finest stones come from Hungary
and among the Austrian crown jewelr
are gems of greater size and beauty thar
that which tempted the Roman emperor.
London Court Journal.
Danger from Musical Instruments.
A French military surgeon has beer,
making researches on wind instrumenti
which had been used by phthisical
bandsmen, and warns musicians of the
importance of disinfection. He recom
mends that instruments should be filled
with a 5 per cent, solution of carbolic
acid, or, in the case of metallic instru
ments, that they should be dipped into
boiling water. These precautions are of
the utmost importance when phthisical
persons have used the instruments: for
it was found in sutji cases that liquids
used to wash them but presented a viru
lence similar to that of a pure culture of
tuberculosis.
Fortunately, the danger is small as
long as the interior is thoroughly moist,
which of course it usually is; but when
an instrument has been lying by for
6ome time, so that the interior has be
come dry. there is real danger of air
containing dried germs of the disease
being drawn into the lungs of the person
who next plays upon it. New York
Ledger.
VANDERBILT CHILDREN.
Thy
A r C arefully I'.iltirnf rt ami Ka
I r lit I Irnl ly Traliiral.
Although all the inemlx-rH of tho Van
derbilt family entertain on a magnificent
scale they never jM-rmit their children to
remain up late at night, are extremely
careful in their education, and, in ft
word, are fitting them for life m well a
any mother or father could do. It b
one of the rub's in all the houses of th
Vanderbilts that the children shall go to
bed early and rise early. The little hoys
and Kil ls are up before 7 o'clock in th
morning. Their nur.M-s immediately
take i d-.arg" of them, sen that they are-prop.-rly
balle-d and dressed, and then
they pi down to breakfast, which i
served at half-pa:-1 7 o'clock.
It is an unpretentious meal, with
ph nty of lii sh milk, eggs, -itjneal ami
a hit of steak or a ( bop that will add
stn ir.rtb to tin ir j by; iqtie and color to
t heir cheek. Afier breakfast there in
a;i I our of study. There is something
for these li'.tl ones to do at all timer
during the ila'. They go through their
si u. lie.-, systematically, and th'-n, about
hall-par t are taken out for a walk.
They aiv allowed to romp in the stnrets
and i.i the parks to their hearts' content.
At 11 o'clock they are brought home,
and a light luncheon of milk and bread
is M-rved. after which there are more?
studies either French, (lerinan or draw
ing and then another breathing siell;
it leay bo horseback riding, or a driva
out through the park and along tlu
coir.itry road.
Pack they all come about 4 o'clock,
and there is another hour cf t-iudv, and
th'-:i they are
an. allowed
i:i.1il tea tin
tl.ey spend a
their fathers
thi
ugh for the daj
They
to
ilo just as they pleas
when alter their meal
asant hour or so with
bh
and mothers and others
who may drop in to call. Promptly at 8
o'clock they are till in bod to sleep
soundly, and get up the next morning to
go through the same programme. So it
is not strange that all the children of tho
Vanderbilt family are further in ad
vance of their little friends in the mat
ter of education. For they study, study,
study all the time. They are all fond of
music and most of them can play on tho
piano.
The girls are learning to play on the.
h u p. and the boys are famous among;
their friends as violinists and banjo
players. If you were to see these chil
dren on the street you would not for a.
moment suspect that they were other than
clrldrcn of patents in ordinary circum
stfifces. They make no display at ehibo
rat" d;c::s. The eldest of Cornelius Van
d. riiilt's daughters is dressed plainly in
lit lie. pretty, cheap dresses without any
braid or ornamentation. She wears snnfj
litt'.ig cloth jackets, and the little cap tliat
sits gracefully on her hiwid could lo du
plicated for a couple of dollars. Cor. La
dies' Home Journal.
A Coiuleiimed IWhii'h Ntsrve.
One of the coolest and most deli berate
itt r ::ipts at suicide recorded is that of
:min Hunter, lb" murderer of John
Ar... trong, in ('amde.i, N. J., in 1879.
i'iir.ifer was comiued in tin "murderers
'a;;'-"" in the county jail under charge of
the dentil w.i.tch. lie complained of
eh :iess one night, and was permitted
to v -;:'. p bis lower extremities in a
M;::;!:et. lie had previously torn off the
.; ..-f his t:i cup with bis teeth, and
1::- i it cc:-.:iT'.-:l'.'d in his trousers pocket.
T::.;::g cr.i commonplace topics to his
gu;:r.l. lift titer r-:-cretly took the
ja.
si:" i cf t;;i from bis pocket, and, con
eej.lr.sg his move?nonts with t!i:; blanket,
beg--.;i cutting into an artery in bis left
ic
The blood rpurted out in jets, and tho
f!
was concealed hv Hunter .';oreadin?r
the bl.iiil; t or.t like a skirt. He became
:,o .-e.-ik that he was unable to continue
the conversation, and the guard's sus
picions were aroused. He made an ex
amination, and found that tho murderer
wa.; l.leeding to deatlv Physicians were
umtnoned, a ligat ure was applied and
Hunter's life was saved. He was after
ward hanged, and it was pretty gener
ally believed that he was dead from
fright and 'sedatives before the cord
tightened around his neck. New York
Press.
-Julian Hawthorne. v
Julian Hawthorne stands six feet high
and looks like a short haired, modernized
edition of his father, who w-rote "The
Scarlet Letter." He is a broad shoul
dered, genial mannered man, with a
penchant for yachting in a blue pea
jacket. Ilo lives at Sag Harbor, is a.
brother-in-law of George Parsons La
throp and the father of a large family.
Withal he is only four-and-forty, and he
has studied civil engineering at Dresden
and written novels in the south of Ire
land. Harvard is responsible for his
education, and he i3 a point blank refu
tation of the theory that the sons of
great men are generally nobodies. Ex
change. Mitak-3 In Print.
"Did you ever notice." said a newspa
jitr man the otiier day. "what strange
mistakes rrriters will sometimes make?
Why. a day or two ago in one paper a
column was devoted to a discussion of
the seal fisheries question, in which Sir
Julian Pamicefote was repeatedly called
Sir John Pauncefote. Was it ijnorance
or temporary aberratio" or what?
Probablv- what. There LW eld story
of the one perfect book ever printed,
after almost infinite pains had been
taken to make it tv-pographieally cor
rect. When it was finished the word
'book' was found on the first page print
ed with three o's." New York Tribune.
Tl:e tjiifc-u
Kiilitli.
ye knaw, what'
Englishman 1 av.
the bookaL-e to Doiton?
Railroad Ticket Clerk The whatage?
Englishman The bookage, ye knaw
the tariff. What's th' tariff?
Ticket Clerk 1 haven't time to talk
polities. New York Weekly.
Browning had a marvelous memory.
He always could tell the exact place cf
any quotation or fragment of quotation,
referred to him, and was vexed greatly
whenever he heard hia own lines misquoted.
THE