Nebraska Newspapers

    IDE EVENING STAR.
Along the grassy **lr*|»e I sit,
( And dreum of other years;
My heart is full of soft regrets,
* My eyes of tender tears.
The wild bees hummed about the spv* •
The sheep-twills tinkled far,
Lust year when Alice sat with mo
Beneath the evening star.
The same siveet star is o’er me now,
Around the same soft hours;
But Alice moulders in the dust
With all the last year's flowers.
1 sit alone, arid only hear v.
The wild fives on the steep,
And distant liell* that seem to float
From out the folds of sleep.
—HlCHAHO IIkNUY tiTODDAHD.
FAME VERSUS LOVE.
BY FLOTlK.SCE liKV KUli t’BMDAR.
“It cannot be!”
As these words fell from Helen Arm
strong’s lips she arose from her seat—
an old overturned Iwiat—and moved
slowly toward I he, water’s edge.
For a moment 1rt companion—a
mun of perhaps twenty-five-—hesitat
ed; then he joined her, refieating:
“It canieot be, Helen? Surclv you
are not in earnest.. You love me—
have you not said it?--and yet you
refuse to become lay wife.!”
“Kdwin, I-”
j? “You did not mean it,” quickly in
terrupted Edwin Heimett, adding:
“Come, darling, w iry should we not he
happy?” and .lie-drew her hand within
his arm.
||| For an instant she let it rest there,
BVhen slowly hut firmly she loosened
™ hie clasp, as site said:
“For two years yon arid J have been
friend*. In that, time did you ever
know me tO'chnrige my mind after!
hud once decided upon any t fling?"
“No, but-answered her com
panion quickly, while site, unheeding,
goes on with:
“You know'tiie one great desire ol
my live is to win fame as an artist.
Could 1 do this its your wife?”
“Why riot, Helen? Would I not do
anything in the world to help von?”
came the .proud answer, as Edwin
Bennett hent his eyes fondly upon the
fair face'beside him.
“No, Edwin; as a wife I could never
hope to attain fame. Marriage brings
to woman so many care* that there
is very little time left over for othei
work. I should not makeyou happy,
I should he constantly longing for my
old. free life.”
“If that is all I am not afraid to
risk my happiness, Helen,” answered
her lover, a more hopeful look light ing
up his handsome face.
“Think how for live years,” con
tinued Helen, “J have worked with
the one end in view. My home, you
are awaie, has not been particularly
agreeable. Cncle and aunt are kind
in their way, and have always let me
have my will about paint ing, provid
ed it did not cost them anything. As
for love or sympathy, you have seen
how much they have yielded me.”
“Heen und felt for you, Helen, God
knows. And now that I will make
your lile, if love-can do it., one happy
dream, you will not; and yet you'do
not deny your love for me.
For a second Helen's eyes rested
longingly upon the face of the man
•who loved her so .dearly; then into
their dusky depths crept an intense,
passionate longing, us they swept the
horizon and noted the glorious splen
dor of the setting sun, wiiile she .ex
claimed:
“(ill. Edwin! If 1 could only repro
duce that sunset just as it is. If i on
ly could?”
With an impatient sigh lie turned
away.
“Always her art., never me; perhaps
she is right after all- It would always
stand between us.”
nnf nntifinfr nitlf
“If it would only stay long enough
for me to catch those colors, hut no,
it is fading now.”
Turning. Helen found her companion
had left lier side, and stood a few
yards away.
‘•Edwin," she entiled.
In an instant lie was beside her,
everything forgotten except that site
was tin- woman lie loved.
"I wanted to tell you how good Mr.
Hovey is. It si-ems lie was acquaint
ed with poor ptqia years ago, when I
a baby. MIIU 1 lie; eft ire feels quite
^interested in me. You have heard how
lie praises my work, uud lust night he
promised
“Proposed!" exclaimed Edwin Ben
nett, hotly. "Why, you don’t mean
to sny the old man actually had the
audacity to ask you to umrry him?"
"flow ridiculous llow could you
think of* such a thing'" answered
llehti. a ripple of laughter escaping
from between her pretty teeth as she
continued;
"No hr proposed, it I were willing,
to «i ini me o Italy lor two years, lie
of course, defraying the greater inert
t>f the H|*ti«i' lie said wliell I Is*
tame famous I could maud him the
little amount if I wished, Was it
mu generous of him? Ju»t think, two
Vea s at work amoiig tie- o’ I mast. -
What lollld | tin then? It would Is
sihh a help to no Him- < ait live eery
sitnpiy i la re. Mi little uwonce would
»U> * it h care, I ltank
"Ami you would go" As Edwin
Hrulwtl asked this qilvwtlou A took of
palU > roused lit* bo V,
tth y mu1 tame ih* reply, a*
. Helen i a.'*d Ur eyes q ttnniiligly
* to let • oiiqsttittoii
"You mi you kite ms ami yet you
• total put the sea lot we*it its |l> .• t,
wall. I wdt work lutnl ami tarn
Warns) enough <u lake ns twit h abroad
l*o you I Lima I could deny you any
iku.» You sboukt is,mi to your
lean • content, horn tW old masters
or wp> thing *1* jrtnt pleased m» kmg
aayou were trappy, I should tw I‘si
kapa I lutgkt turn I alwter, ttnc eoa •
day. ante you to inspire me, he ad
tle-1 *i<tdntg slightly.
“4 do but doubt your kite k>r u <
Edwin, but I shall never marry. 1 in
tend to devote my life to art. As a wife
it would be impossible for me to do so
I should lie hindered and trammelled
in a thousand ways. Believe me, I
have thought veiy earnestly of all
this, and I-”
“Helen, when I came to spend my
vacation here at Little Itock, so nsto
lie near you, I said to myself, ‘Now
you can ask the woman you love to he
your wife, and know that you have a
home to offer her.’ For your sake I
wish I were rich; hut I am still young,
and with the good prospects I have, 1
do not s<*e why I shall not lm able be
fore many years to give my wife all
she can wish.”
“It, is not that, Kdwiu. I should not
love you one hit more if you were a
millionaire,” interrupted Helen, glan
cing reproachfully at, him.
“Helen, my holiday is over to-inor
row. I must have inv answer to
night.” The words came somewhat
sternly from between Edwin Bennett's
lips.
Mechanically, with the end of his
parasol, Helen Armstrong traced on
the glittering, yellow sands, “Fame
versus lw»ve.” Then, as she became
aware of what, she had done, she
sought to efface them. Too late. Ed
win Bennett’s hand stayed hers, as,
pointing to the letters that stood out,
in- said, hoarsely:
“Choose!”
For a second she hesitated; then,
slowly came the answer:
“1 accepted Mr. Hovey’s offer this
morning. I am to sail in a week.”
Spurning her hand from him, Edwin
Bonnettcried out passionately:
“(iodtorglve you! I cannot!” Then
without another word, he turned and
left her.
A faint cry ot “Edwin” escaped her
lips, usher arms were held out implor
ingly toward him. They then fell to
her side, and she, too, turned and
went slowly across the sands in the
opposite direct ion. If lie lutd looked
hack tunu seen those outsi retched ]
arms how dilfcmit tlreir life might ;
have been; but no, be plodded angrily I
along t he shore, glancing neither to '
the right nor left Little by little the
waves crept up n.wd Love was drown
ed, while1 Fume st ill stood out hold
and clear upon the yellow sands.
Ten years haveooiue and gone since
Helen Armstrong and Kdwin Bennett
parted on the shore, and during that
time they have never met. Helen hail
won that which she hud striven for.
Hhe had become an artist ot renown.
Even royalty hud been phased to com
pliment her upon her art.
For the last month one of Helen
Armstrong’s paintiiigs bail been on
exhibition at the Academy of Besign,
and crowds bad been drawn thither to
see this last work of thecelebruted ar
tist. The subject was simple, nothing
new, yet visitors returned again and
again to gaze at it.
It was the last day of its exhibit ion,
when a lady and gentleman leading a
little girl of perhaps M years by the
hand, passed into the room where the
paint mg hung.
“Oh! isn’t it too hud there is such a
crowd; I wanted so to see it,” ex
claimed the lady; to which the gentle
man replied:
“We wili look at the other pictures
first and come back again; perhaps
there will not he such a crowd then.”
An hour or so later the gentleman
and lady returned; then the room was
almost, deserted, except for a few
stragglers here and there. It was just
about time to close t he gallery.
For a few moments they stood in
silence before the painting; then a lit
tle voice said:
“Baby want to sec too. papa.”
Stooping down thcgentleman raised
the pretty, daintily-dressed child in
his.arms. After gravely regarding the
picture lor u seooud, the little one
asked:
“Is zay mad. papa?”
“J am afraid one was., pet,” came
tlie low answer, as Kdwin Ben
nett softly kisstd the fair cheek of his
little gui. Then his gaze returned to
the painting.
Buai u ui irnun twituf, mwi ITU j
here awl there hy huge boulders, and
piles of snowy pebbles, against which
t he overhanging cliffs looked almost
black. Ifgntle little lmliy waves rip
pling in toward the shore, while ma
jestic purple-lilted, silver edged clouds
seemed floating eu masse toward the
golden, eiunwon-bimvdsHn that Hood
ed the sky and water with its warm
light.
In the center of the picture, where
the l teach formed a cure resembling a
horseshoe, wu* an old lioat.t limed but -
tom upward; some few feet off. the fig
ure of a young man, apparently walk
ing hurriedly away. Although the
face was not visible, the gu/er felt
that thctnaiisuffercd; awl the glorious
sunset was this day naught to him.
Perhaps it was in the tightly clasjssl
hand, t lie veins of which stood out
like great cords; or. muybe, in the
man s apparent total disregard of his
surroundings.
To the right of the picture wus the ;
figure of a young girl, trailing a para- i
| sol ill the -and. as she Mppcurtd to
I nun. slowly III the opposite direetion
I iron, her com (sin ion Only a little
I bit of a delicately di.ip.-d ear and a
mass of g ussy 1 r.it.l- showed from Is
■ nratli tie shade hat, kail him couhl
[ nattily l«*lt*'Ve that 'J pretty gnhdi i
i tignre ts-hiugasl to an e«p;uily attract- J
IVe (ace
\ls> il half way lietweeii tle-ni. j
t rated upon I lie sands, were the wot.Is, I
' Pa Hie ii-sia t.nve. *
Is it not lovely?, filsm' md l| • ;
fennel t laid iw* hand njKtn her hits |
twii'l s arm as sits tabled
'ad how sad It somehow see-. i*u»
I .an t help feeling sorry for lUtu I
wish I count Ms tie -> fa.es i t,.-l as
if I wanted let turn tiieut rouiel '
t laeI'n g 1 be little Imm| that rest.si 1
-o tonlalniglv tipem h.» arm t dw.it
tie..net in a at tilt thanked tuwl for 1l>*
gift of his fait y in.tig w I hr, as he said
- t 'nm« ih a ', ’ b« v are a.n..log
to et.se* up i 1. »> s Itrwl to*.
* i'», m* • toed, Ht.by wants t«.
Use mama lapnl tbs .kiki, noldtug
out lest tu.jf attu*
Met atel and s - *c fa i..l to net«e a I
hilt who stood near. g..*>ng at a
lutin'•<•£ b the Matty Iouigf moth
eg si os* pci down to msirt her I ui hy *
kisses, whs*h tla bills on. audi-c
i
on cheeks, lips and brow, a deep, '
yearning look gathered in the strange
lady’s eyes and she turned hastily
away.
“Oh, Edwin!” exclaimed his wife as
they passed the silent figure in black.
“Wouldn’t it he nice if baby should
grow up to be a great urtist like this
Miss Armstrong?”
"(Jpd forbid, Annie, came the earn
est reply, followed by “let her grow
up to he a true, loving woman, that is
all I ask.” The lady’s hand tightened
its hold upon the back of a settee as
the word * reached her ears, but she
did not move until they were out of
sight. Then lifting her veil she went
and stood before the painting that
had won such fume. Tears gathered
in her eyes as she gazed, and with the
words, “I will never look at. it again,”
she, too, passed out of the building,
ami in her own handsome carriage was
driven home.
Kcorn shone in her dark eyes as they
fell upon the costly works of art scat
tered in lavish profusion about her
luxuriously furnished apartments.
Hastily throwing aside her wraps,she
crossed over to a mirror. A very
handsome face it reflected. Not look
itigthc thirty years it had known.
Helen Armstrong—for it was she—
hud heard of Edw in Heiiuet t’s man-age;
heard that he had succeeded in
business beyond his most sanguine
expectations; beard that bis wife was
one of the loveliest and gentlest of
women, and that Edwin Bennett
idolized both wifeaml child. This day
she had seen 1 hem.
Then came the thought that, she
might have stood in that wife’s place;
she, too, might, have had those baby
lips pressed as lovingly to hers; but
she had put it, from her. .She had
chosen Fame versus Love. If she
could only go back to that day on
the sands, how differently she would
now act.
Turnin'* wearily away from the
mirror, she exclaimed, bitterly:
“Too late, Helen Armstrong. As
you have sown, so must you reap.”
Oil lint h r Talk* nut In Meet*
ter*
Gtwrnl Benjamin P. Butitler being
in New York looking after Miss Mary
Hoyt's interests in the Hoyt will con
test, ii '1’rihtine reporter asked him if
lie had read Warner’s compromise
silver hill. The inquiry lead to a long
talk, in the course of which the Gener
al said:
"I have grandchildren who will live
to set1 the Vanderbilt* and the Goulds
taken out to the nearest lamppost
and hang in the most scientific and
skillful manner. After there has been
bloodshed we shall settle down again
for a while. These money kings see
the dangers already. But they do
not see the remedies. When I was a
candidate for President, Gould said
Butler must hcdrivrninto theground.
He couldn't see that it was better for
n man of considerable wealth and a
family and property interests to heat
the head of the masses, and able to
control them. He only saw in the
background the torch of Communism,
ns he thought. Some day a real red
Communist will lead these men, and
then he will see the difference. Every
man is a Communist now, in the eyes
of the community, who preaches the
equality of men. Christ, was the Com
munist of Jerusalem. As the head of
the labor element I could have settled
this whole railroad question as no
other man could settle it. The mis
take I made in running for President
was like running against a stone wall.
I knew that the people in all ages had
failed themselves in every important
crisis of importance to themsefves. It
is t he history of the ages. But I was
foolish enougli to think that the peo
nle lin.ri tri'nw n wiser fi.iul tn.tt.er- that.
the world had progressed in the direc
tion of human knowledge and under
standing and power of concentration.
I thought the Laborers of tlie new re
public were more intelligent. They
are not intelligent. They were afraid
of me because I had a little property.
They were just as foolish as Uould.
But that is not all. Nine out of ten
of them would sell their votes for $12
apiece. I was a fool to think that
this age was different from any other.
Hxperience has now taught me the
same lesson as history.
- M - —
All Amoritun Woman In an Ital
ian Insane Anvlum.
War-Mutton Special.
.V report rmdxed at the Statu IV
partnlent from the American conwul
at (tenon. Italy, contain* tliedcnicnt*
of a hint cliiMK romance. The t'onwul
write** that on August *JH lie visited,
in company with a friend, the asylum
for the insane which etund* on the
fHtt*kirt* of the city. Before lea*mg
the building he tv a* informed that one
of the pat tent m, an American lady, d«
miivhI toM|>*-ak to htrn. Hoiui'ulijrt tioi)
wa» made l*y tlie iilli»w» in »lunge.
The patient, the) Ml id. wa» very \ io
lent, and it would la* lw»ti«*r todiwre
fill'd her we*hew if i# were not desirable j
to bring a Ik mi a wren*. But tlie con
»u! |w*rM»ted. and in tin* inter* tent j
which followed »h to lied h hum if that
Kti* fair countrywoman a a* no more \
iiUMKivtli UiltUiiwif, ||c demanded lie** i
idea**- which Wno? effected without j
tome diltu alt) TW tyiaiil de»* td*ew :
brio Uing %*rv yfvlty ami about
l went y- li** * car** of age
I he lady * •lory mi that »he manual ,
tier lomlmod. alio pro*e*l to lw» a tub* 4 !
aheiitlifer, in one ot theUip hotrrti j
It we* fiUtiil two o>*o<4f*' Her bill- I
r M tthw! upon her an annuity ot |V, j
1
His First Experience In Ilce
k coping.
A. P. Abbott writes Western Ru
ral: It was a hot, sultry morning in
the middle of June. The fog which
at daybreak wrapped tiie earth in its
miciy folds soon began rising and
floating away in huge fleecy clouds,
leaving every now nud then an opening
through which the sun drove its early
cut fiery rays. And as the birds’
songs eaiue float ingout from tie* thick
ly dtessed trees, they seemed half
drowned in the laden atmosphere.
“If this fog clears away without
rain, you may look tor ten swurmsto
day. I wish I did not lane to go
away, for I’m afraid you can’t hive
them all.”
To explain the above quotation:
we were keeping about fifty swarms of
bees, and to-day father was obliged to
go to town, and I was the only one he
could leave to attend to the bees.
And you who are tainiliar with bee
keeping, know it is no small job for
oiic man to take care of an apiary of
that size, at that time of the year,
for it is then that the I isis are in the
midst of swarming time. So after
father had eaten his breakfast and
given me a short leet lire on a few of t he
bees’ private tricks, and how to get
them into the hive, hetoukhis depart
ure, leaving me to my fate.
Everything went on lovely till about
nine o’clock, when the sun rolled out
from behind a dense cloud, nearly
wilting things with its heating rays.
This was more than the bees could
stand. And soon uswarin began com
ing out at a fearful rate. It seemed to
me as though there were a bushel of
them, and that there would be none
left in the hive. And after they had
gone through wit h the general ceremo
nies in the air, they lit on a limb but
a few feet from t tie ground; thus mak
ing it easy to get them down. The
I lirst. lliinc u/iwtri tirctwifo luvsi.tf
hive them. First, f put on a veil to
keep them out of my face, then'
crowded n wool hut down on my head
to keep t hem out of my hair; then put
ting on a good warm pair of mittens,
I proceeded to hive them. I will let
the reader imagine how comfort able I
felt. I first produced a blanket and
spread it out beneath them, then
placing my hive on it, I gave the
swarm a quick, hard jerk which
brought them down in front ofthehive
all in a heap. I then watched closely
for the queen bee; for strange as it
may seem, the entire swarm is govern
ed by this one bee. Soon they began
running into t he hive like a flock of
sheep, by which I knew the queen had
gone in. And just us j was thinking
about getting into the shade to cool
olT, my sister, whom I left to watch,
informed me that another swarm had
started.
This one seemed to he more ‘high
flown’ then the preceding one; for in
stead of lighting down where it would
be easy getting them, they lit up a
maple about thirty feet from the
ground, and now comes the most in
teresting part of my story; and some
of the readers may deem it somewhat
humorous, but I realized nothing of
that sort. I had by this time come
to the conclusion that I'd rather run
the risk of get t iug stung t ban to wear
a thick pair of mittens when the mer
cury stood ninety above; so dropping
them 1 commenced preparing to get
down the swarm. And getting u large
nope and a saw I tried my band, or
rather, my shins, at climbing the tree.
And after a great deal ot putting and
scratching I reached the desired limb;
and after stopping to breathe a few
minutes, I commenced hitching out
astride tiie limb in order to tie my
rope in the desired place. I had
scarcely done this when crack! went
the limb up close to the body of the
tree, ami I started, as 1 supposed, for
the ground; but fortunately it broke
but half way off and left me hanging
head downward. It took me but a
short time to change ends and get back
to the trunk, lint the worst of it all
i fimi' imu. in v in- will,
pulled above my pants, and a bee had
taken advantage of tlie situation, and
was crawling upon my ribs. i had
read that an Indian could liestill while
a caterpillar made his way slowly over
his body; hut to let mi angry bee go
btuiing along on the bare skin, took
more nerve than I possessed. So quick
ns thought, in fact quicker than
thought, for if I hud stopped to think
I would not have done it. I gave him
an unfriendly slap which of course
ended in mir coming out about even;
for though I took his life he left his
stiag over my lifth rib.
At last | got them down and into
the hive, and as I did so, I thing my.
st it on tiie ground in t he shade of some
neighboring trec*. but mv stay intlmt
position was brief. Fur it seemed
that I had hardly touched the ground
before 1 was on my feet again, nor did
I »nnii as Milton has said, "and m his
nsi ig be seamed a pillow of salt,”
For 1 arose more like a dancing Jack
than a "pillow" of any sort. It seems
tbrre were several lets 11 did not stop
to count the number), collected at
Juai the right position on the w it ot
my pants to is, where | could awl
tbetn in •tinging me when I «at down.
1 hey had undoubtedly lice 11 sonic
what roiled when tic limit broke, and
i tin w»re going to pav me for my
tiotlbie, 1 liml «itii| wlute Idl ing the
bit ter •warm, that I would not hive
another one a the, all went oil Hut 1
«* till* last performance I ins-ayie i
somewhat rolled mi sell, ami lowed j
* ‘t*y would all git into a Inn if I per i
idled in the attempt lo put them
ib'Cv. And lone ot tire t,n •warms
taller had puds ted lAHtitusi, ate) I
hi • my >lni pstHiti |t wi t with
elll doubt h« mtits* tot ate to .hM
that I did not do utthh ait tug down .
tor n lew day*
Tit# |h»«t (Ml I Ull WtiM !
HH iiilffv*tib|{ uti
4 Ik# itjilii* * f *»f I III* AlUUfrj I
»*Wt W iib ii ft fc* iiAM.tAl llktki l-»*4 %*+%» '
l‘‘ »tWH «lk*lf tltt |UUf« t|fHI» .
* up iitr Au>*9 ** ah |*m(. »{>}• 1*11*4 j
llkM WM I*l4*» ^ H hl.U ;
V W4 N*li \| flfls l -kl-l | It I I
I'Oftft in tin ^iv.n Ǥ,
A NEW VIEW OF AMERICANS
Our Ilarharou* NelvoR Hern as Through a
Complimentary Sir lluhert's Cil.iffftet.
Lord Ronald (lower’s Reminiscentes.
“Not being a personnage, and not
curing to appear in a w hite tie and
fine linen every evening, and having
w ished to see the social life in the
American city not as a guest but as a
traveler, 1 think I can more impar
tially judge of what would be the im
pression made oa a cosmopolitan
than had 1 traded on being an Eng
lishman with a bundle attached to my
name, as probably most Britishers
with such an impediment would do.
1 mixed with all classes, in the street
ear or omnibus (which in its American
form is as superior to our Ixmdon
’bus as is a Parisian victoria
to a ‘growler’), in the Union Club
—the Travelers’ of New York—and
in a palat ial steamer of the river Hud
son, to which, steamer and to which
river we have nothing to compare in
the Old World. Wherever I went I
found all classes of the Americans not
only civil, out highly civilized, as com
pared class for class with the English;
not only amiable, hut, as a rule kind
and courteous, and, with rare excep
tions, well-informed, well bred, and
having more refinement of manner
than any other people 1 have ever
come amongst. What struck me es
pecially in New York was the inva
riable civility shown by nil classes of
men to women, whether the women
rustle in silk or wore linwy-wolsey or
homespun; however crowded the car
or the foot way, room was at once
made for a Indy. Does not this
somewhat contrast with the sur
ly, grumpy incivility that is shown
to the fair sex in our public
curt iagee and streets? This polit eness
is not, as in a neighboring country to
ours, mere lip and eye civility, but
arises, l lielieve, irom a minimi aim
intuitive good breeding from which,an
I Haul before, t he Americans of every
class are endowed.
"For instance, if one entered a room
in ii club or hotel, one was not met
by those assembled with a'Who the
liiisli is this person whom none of us
know? and what the Hash does he
here?’ sort of look; nor, if one entered
into conversation with some one iri a
railroad car 01 steamer, woe one greet
ed with that truly Hritish stare which
in this country of insular prejudice
and arrogant assumption, conveys as
plainly as words the question, ‘What
the mischief do you mean by speaking
to me without an introduction?’
“My experience has been in America
that if you ask a service from a stranger
it is accorded readily, without con
descension or fuss; t hat among them
is little of the snubbish wish to appear
to those we do not know as greater
people than we really are, lit tie of that
disgusting patronage of manner that
prevails in this country among the
richer classes, and none of the no less
disgusting cringiness of manner which
as greatly prevails among our trades
people, and which makes me for one
hesitate before asking my way in the
streets of a well-dressed man, orenter
ing a shop where one will (if known as
‘a good customer1) fie received by a
mealy-mouthed mortal all smiles and
grimaces, who will think that lie will
more readily set lire a purchaser by
showing some article ordered by my
Lord This or my Lady That. On the
contrary, the New York tradesman or
shopkeeper receh es you with civility,
but without any of t hat cringiness of
manner which seems to me little less
insulting than actual insolence; lie will
allow you to look as long as you like
at any of the articles bis shop may
contain, and will fie equally civil if
you purchaseor if you do not; but he
will not rub his bands and contract
his features into a leer, and if you
were to show him your superiority of
itAcihiAn l.c ii Hind met f A I aaIs am
him as being ‘only a tradesman,’ he
would probably show yon that there
is something more in being a citizen of
a great Republic than mere sound,and
that although you may fancy your
self a superior being from not
being a republican or a shop
man, he might be able to prove to
you that one man is nsgoodasanoth
er.
‘•I mixed thus with all elr.Bscs, and
spoke to all with whom I came into
contact, and in no single instance did
I meet with anything but jierfect civil
ity— the civility of equals, which is.
after nil, the truest. I admire with
all my heart ttlie jieople, our brothers,
who, although we have for so many
years presumed to treat them a*poor
relations, are in some forms of com
| (non courtesy and general politeness
[ tar superior to ourselves.
"i grant that t l.e Americans we met t
on the Continent of Europeans often
offensive in manner and give a very
unfavorable Impression of their coun
try bo'li to foreigners and to English
men; but, believe me, these ,.,e thee*
cept ions.1*
S • !■!
l*utting on Mtj l«*.
Or. !«uiim!c!I. the famous missionarv
s.i- warned wlai m‘.iuig Rosin.,
tlurt his conventional clerical gave
would not impress the natives with a
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GAMBLING ON THE OCEAN.
LanA Shark* t>n the Heap Ulna So* I vi
rile * IV hi» Taka a Hand.
Prom the New York Mail and Express.
An importer engaged in business in
White street, tliis city, who has cross
ed the ocean at least twice a year for
the lost quarter of acentury, was met
during the past few days on his re
turn from Europe. He is a veteran
traveler, and is always on the look
out for stirring incidents and any
thing of n novel character. “We had
an exceedingly pleasant run after
leaving Queenstown,” he said, hut I
can’t say the trip will bo cherished
with pleasant recollection, by every
body who was aboard. In thesmoking
room poker was the order of the hour
throughout the entire voyage, and a
party of New York professionals
whose faces are familiar to ocean
travelers, made a pile of money. The
principal victims were Englishmen
hound to this country on business or
pleasure. Two gentlemen, who said
their destination was Texas, lost, all
their ready cash,about £3,500. They
took their losses good-naturedly, uud
seemed to regard them as of no con
sequence.”
“Are these professional players
known to the ofheers of the ships?”
“I cannot conceive how the officers
can be ignorant as to their real charac
ter. Regular passengers can point
them out as soon as they strike the
deck of a ship. They are always well
dressed,suave in their manner, and to
all appearance, perfectly reckless in
the ex|»enditlire of money. They or
der tin- most costly drinks and the fin
est. cigars,and as they can make them
selves quite agreeable when it suits
their purpose they are rarely at a loss
for victims.”
"Are they themselves not likely to
UCCOIlie 1 lie VH l llJISf
"If luck sets dead against them, so
that their cheating dev ices fail to work
<ks may happen on i n re occasioned hey
play very low until the tide turns.
The professionals are always ahead
on the whole voyage, sometimes hy
tens or thousands of dollars. On the
trip here a young Knglish lieutenant,
who was going to visit friends in Can
ada,, and a middle-aged gentleman who
hail interests in the west, were passen
gers. They fell into the toils of tho
gamblers on the first day out from
OueeiiHt.own, and before the close of
the third day both the Britishers re
tired from the poker table looking
downhearted. I learned that t lie
lieutenant, who had £1,000 when ho
started from home, had nothing left
but a draft for £100. His traveling
companion lost heavily, but resented
any attempt to draw him into con
versation on the subject. These are
but isolate instances of what occurs
on almost every voyage. Wince public
gambling has been stopped in many
of our large cities, the gamblers have
taken to the ocean, where they ply
their trade with great success. They
are to be found on every ship, nml as
they are surrounded by men with
money and plenty of leisure time,they
invariably reap a rich harvest."
"Are the gamblers ever interfered
with?"
"Very rarely, but sometimes they
are squelched. An amusing incident
occurred on the voyage to Liverpool.
Two bright young American women
and two well-known gamblers, who
were said to be their husbands, were
booked as passengers. Soon after
leaving Sandy Hook, the ladies began
to make themselves very agreeable to
some of the male passengers, to whom
they managed to secure introductions.
They drank wine and smoked cigar
ettes. Next day a game of poker was
started, and the ladies took part in
it. At first it was a game with small
stakes for amusement, but soon it be
came serious. There were five at tho
table, and in a jack-pot which con
tamea some sun it came to me mm
of lady No. 1 to deal. She ripp'd
mid shuffled the cards deftly, vvliiie
pleasant conversation flowed freely.
To the gentleman on her left she gave
three kings; to lady No. 2. who sat
next, she dealt the nine, ten, jack and
queen of clubs; to the player immedi
ately on her left she bestowed an aco
full pat; to the next gentleman three
sevens were given, w hile she herself
took an indifferent hand and fell out.
The first player opened the pot for
$5; lady No. 2 stayed in; the third
player raised it $1<»; the fourth saw
the rai<e, as did also the lirst.
"It then came to the turn of the
lady. She saw the raise and wen*
$100 better, which all hands saw.
l.adv No. 1 finished the deal. To the
gentleman on her left she gave a pair
of lives, which made hi* hand a king
full; to her amiable sister she dealt tho
eight of chile*, which completed her
straight flush. The third player stood
hi* hand, and ihe fourth received a
seven and qileeu to his three seven*.
Helling startedat $lO, *»< raised $50,
then $1 OO, and went on till there were
several thousand dollars in the put
‘Hie t wo gentleman who held the full
hands dmp|ied them when the imiii
grew too hot, and dually the four
sevens called, and the lady raked in
the pot with an innocent smile. Tim
•kill of the dealer in handling the
nods wu* the talk of the stop. It
mine to the ear* ot captain, who or
*!•■ red the huliew to keep their elate
room dining the ha via*' of Om vuy
*ge. The two brilliant feiualre and
Ihetr alleged husband* Ore black listed
l>y the agents of the line on winch they
displayed such talent."
•-'•«*egpr $ mm ■
A dupatch from Ctntfnlitrk say >
' Km several mouths Mine Mary Meek
man lute been on a »nk bed and she
lues frequently said that »he*»»'toed to
hel Mimetlong moving within her Af
<ev eating she was always tM« In4
w.tk retching, and the other day aid
tie squirming animal was foundm tlse
• owl It waa black, had att oval trody
targe aa a copier ai d Very Una
and shin It looked like a leant. And
alien thrown m*o th*canal it imo>»1
to U an adept swoonter It te thought
tbe Indy will recover.