The Exeter Advocate, 1891-4-9, Page 61
THE PRIMA DONNA.
as they explain to me the great diecoveries
Of the transmiseion a colon te the eye as
Vast of sound to tlae ear, by indnitednaal
'vibrations of the atmosphere. Ten33nlarVel,
now, at the skill of man to measure the
unduletion fleet produces a rey a violet
light -167 temmillionthe of an inch in
length. And I on wonder over the euper.
enemy of the raind that has penetrated the
details of creation till it has counted, with
unscrupulous accuracy, 725 billions of those
landulations in & BeeOnd of time, to produce
upon the eye the effeot and beinate' of the
delioete violet. I oan even smile MS I re -
pall the common eense in eny father's
quaint and timely warning ; "Never sacra
lioe your bed or your breakfast to your art;
for pigments are uot Bo emential to
your Emmen MI is a good dinner and a good
night's sleep." And withal1 find myself
constantly etonished that the hemp of a
that:wane drams WaS leept in tune so long.
Then, however, it Inas not the wonderful
science of the undalations, but the reality
of the lest violet of which I thought. It
was not the philomp'ay of it ale but the
ray of violet light which I would see, as I
stood over my desk, bedaubed with all the
colors I possessed ; getters 1 My pride and
my power! Like the Hebrew Heroules of
Timnath, when he diecovered that he had
not the strength left in him lo lift the
ninnies of his own right arm, I looked but
could not dietingmsh one from the other.
This was the morning ot my victory.
This was the victory of my "Morning."
Bitterly I bemoened my helplessuess ;
but the frown of Fate did not soften to my
mystery. The mills a the gods that
grind slowly but grind exceedingly small
were far from ready to release the mangled
grain that laid tortured between the re.
'tintless ridges of the upper and nether
etoues ; the one—what I would be, whirl-
ing in its fury to mutilate me ; the other
—what I should be, motionless M the grip
of the inexorable; offering, among its
herpened teeth, the only exit from the
rrors of time and the torturee of eternity.
I staggered from the studio, looking the
doer behind me and throwing the key into
a pile of dust, lying in the corridor, waiting
for the garbage wagon to bury it in the bed
of the Arno.
Many a happy hour that studio had
offered me. I recognized it after they were
gone. Many a suggestive battle I had
fought there, many a pregnant victory I
had won; but the offspring, fraught with
possibilities, had been sacrificed in its
swaddling clothes to the inordinate arro-
gance of one ambition. A golden opport.
unity that studio had offered me, but the
pearl lay trampled in the mire and only
swine returned to rend me.
The triumph I had lived and labored for,
the companion pieces stood side by side
upon their eaeels. The door was looked
upon them and the key forayer thrown
away; eo much did I prize my viotory
after it was won. And thus the "Evening
and Morning" made my lost day.
CHAPTER XVIII.
M e venni
The day wore into night as I wandered
down the Arno upon one side, and the
night woke on as I slowly wended my way
back again upon the other side; a Heine
skeleton, dreading the fe,oe of man, shirk!
ing into the shadows away from each
approaching figure, leen by some ill -fate, I
should discover in it the features of a friend
frora out that saroasm.life whence I had
departed.
As I was ongoing the BrIage of the
Seasons & shadow for an instant fell across
my path, as some human being hurried
inlet me. I had not seen so much as the
eet of the figure; I only saw the shadow
marked by the moonlight. Why ehould I
have looked after it I do not understand ;
but, drawn by some instinct, I deliberately
turned about in time to see a woman,
closely wrapped, mount the wall of the
bridge from the etone seat in the alcove,
and from the abutment cap leap into the
river, that was swollen to a furicua torrent
by the spring rains.
"A suicide," I muttered, pausing for a
moment to look into the river, for the
pleasure it gave me to see the body strike
the water. "Some one has gone into the
eternal oblivon. What wisctom Why did
I never think of that 2 "
Death 1 Death 1 Where is thy sting to
him who runs to meet thee? 0 Grave,
forced thus to open thy arms, where is thy
victory to one who hurries into them?
The triumph is with her who leaped into
them from the terrors of time into eternat
liberty; who lifted the genitive talons of
life out of the 'emended heart ; who tore
the mask from the bitter burlesque, and
now, down in those rushing waters, is
clasping the einewless hand of Death, is
laughing in his hollow eyes and shaking
the grim skeleton ; shouting the cry of
victory : " Death 1 Yon are my slave 1
Yes, I have serced you to come at my bid-
ing. You are no terror. I am not afraid
of yen 1 It was Life that frightened me."
These thoughts fritslied like the lighten.
ing through my mind, as, with a dozen
more perhaps, I watched that triumphant
plunge. The rest, horronstrickened, stood
motionless, with parted lips and straining
°yea, to see the grave engulf its champion.
I alone, envied that happy lot. Yet of
them ell I alone seem to realize that the
woman bad made a mistake in leaping from
the upper side of the bridge, that the must
at that moment be passing under no, and
that there was skill a chance to reach her
and force her beak again into the horrors
whence she had fled. Inoonsistent as ever,
I was maddened by the inanity of those
motionless figures and cried aloud :
" Cowards ! Will no one risk a hair to
save a life 2 " Then throwing off ray cloak
and hat, I leaped upon the buletrade, on
the lower side of the bridge, and prepared
to plunge into the whirling Arno.
Practically I do not think that I was
tempted by any hope that, while thus add-
ing a ehimmer of honor to the act, I might
really be following the example I had
envied, for I was perfectly calm and resonate
as I stepped upon the balustrade'carefully
noting the various motions of the fierce
dales whirling and fleshing in the moon.
ight down below, and that I might take
the best advantage of them, and positive
even, as I etood there, that a little
later I should be bringing that
her unfortunate viotim ha& again to
mieery. I saw the woman' e hand
Vernet out of the water for an indent,
then drawndown again by the force
of the etibtle whirlpool art it sucked
aboet the abutment of the bridge. I might
easily have followed it there and never
breathed again, but knowing that my
&armee would be nething in that whirl-
pool, 1 looked, instead, to see where that
'volume of weter was thrown once more to
the eurfeee and leaped as fete toward it as
possible, that 1 might meet the body where
there was better hope vvhett it came tip
again. I me.y have been only a moment of
sanity which took possession of me, or the
ruling minden of humanity for a turns on.
trolling my morbid philosophy; but, at
lead, there was nothing in all this suggest-
ing t deeire te follow after rather than call
baok.
The moonlight though it gle&med id
'heartless beauty on the agony in that
brigand pool, aided me as 1 sank lpeneath
elm water, and down in the depths of the
Arno I saw the body swiftly drifting petit
me. 1 olutolled it for life or &with, and
with it, rising to the endive, steuok out
fiercely %pied the need Arno for the
there.
An eager throng had gathered on the
river stepe below the bridge, when, at letet,
I gained the leading and bore no in
triumph to the street above, There the
nneeneeietie body which I had rescued was
laid for a Moment IlpOn a marble slap by
the embattlement wall. Dripping and shiver.
ing in the reaction, I watched it for a
rnoraent and, morbidly ourioue to see if the
daring woman had actually suoceeded in
depriving Life of one viothert, I bent over to
the motionless figure, pushing the tangled
hair away from the bloodlees face.
Stem el the eveninie 1 Leonora 1
Little more did I note of the throng
about us, till maidenly a voice with
authority said
" Put her instantly into my oerritme."
Then I looked tip. Mina stood before me.
Calmly she looked into my eyes for an
inetant, then silently pointing to the
motionlese form that lay between tie, she
turned away to prepare her carriage to re-
ceive—my victim?
CHAPTER XIX.
enTrIONY WINTIMOr.
Some one handed me my hat, threw my
cloak about me and asked if I needed any
further assistance. So math I remember,
but absolutely nothing more till late in the
midsummer, eighteen months afterward,
when slowly and without astonishment
than °vie be expressed in ourioeity, I be.
came conscious that I was living a strange
life under an esteemed name in Paris.
Paris 1 of all the world 1 Rest for the
weary and life for one sated with mono-
tony. Paris the reservoir for the grave
philosopher, the labyrinth for the devotee
at Passion's altar ; paradise alike for prinoe
and pauper; infieite in variety, in virtue,
in vioe, in magnifloence and in misery;
heaven of all holiest thoughts, hell of all
vile ambitions ; the prelider of life and per-
jury of death; the sunny fashion -plate for
all the various phaees of the wide world.
From the melodious thunder of the great
Botirdon bell in the gray tower of Notre
Dame to the slang of the voluptuous
revelry in tb.e gilded hallo of the Jardine
Blabille, seek what you will and you will
find it there; be it in the way Unit leads
to Life or the metegaerade of Death you
will find it over anti alway wreathed in
roses.
Yes, I was in Paris. More than that I
awoke to find myself a champion in that
paradise of ole; plunging, even uis I had
plunged into the Arno, headlong into the
wildest depths of the Paieian purgatory.
I was conscious of no mental or moral
shook as I gradually comprehended who I
was and what were my surroundings, but I
watched myself mueli as one looks with
curious intereet and even with amusement
upon a precoeione child, who pent:Lane° is
delving in mischief, and yet feels more of
pleatiare than of horror at the dentition. J.
stood like an admiring epectator and
watched myself, pleased with tuy own pre.
codiemenese. I remember being amused to
see me one day make a draft upon my
father's bankers, sign it with my old name
payable to the new, endorse it properly,
take it to a broker's cape where I had no
knowledge of ever having been before, but
surely where I was very well known, and
there, withont queetion or delay, reoeived
at once in cash ite face value. I Was
intensely interested and entertained for a
time, too, in acoompanying me day after
day to such resorts of iniquity es I had
never dreamed were possible to exist in
life before, and I was amused at first at my
various capabilities for mieohief and gained
from me much (onions information and
many valuable hints concerning than side
of life which I had so peristently shunned
and detested in Florenoe.
No depthe of depravity were too deep for
me to penetrate, no mockery of pleasure
was too glaring in its tinsel falsity for me
to fathom. Much as 1 bad watched my
brush while it painted the " Morning " I
watched me, now, probing this bedizened
hell.
After a time, the novelty being somewhat
lost in frequent repetition, I began to look
a little deeper, and to pity me for a certein
sentiment of helpleseness and sorrow vehicle
seemed ever olingine closer day after day
&bout me. Day after day I seemed to be
searching for somethiog ; something of viten
importance, but something which I could
not find. Restlessly and anxiously I would
tread again and spin the same bold paths
through that infernal Elysium, with a dull
aching at the heart which won my sym-
pathy. Ever with the same lingering, long.
ing glimmer of hopeful expentenoy I weeched
me eater one haunt atter another, join
madly for an hour or so in whateverits pets-
eionate revelry might be, and then abruptly
turn away with a sigh of disappointment,
only to repeat precieely the same sentiments
at the next resort; and so on, through my
waking hours, without interim and without
discovery.
Money seemed to me like so many hand-
fals of worthless anat. Whether I loin or
won at the gaming table seemed of no mo.
meat. I saw large sums of gold disappear,
but quickly replaced them by a draft on
Florence, without an emotion save to envy
those whotte faces grew pallid and whose
eyes wonid glare in the exoitement with
which they bent over the gaming board.
As these associatione and novel experi-
ments ceased to amuse me, and gradually
grew diegusting and repuleive to my waking
self, I could easily have wept for me that
must still linger in iniquity. I wondered
more and more what it was that I had lost
for which I mud be so persietently searohing
in such vile resorts, ever, like those about
me, growidg more wretched, more desperate,
more miserable, till one day my eyes fell
upon the announcement of an opera in
which the renowned prima donna, Mlle.
Wilhelmina von Steinberg was announced
to sing. Then, diddenly, it came to
me anti I knew it all. In this Gilead of
horror I was eearthing for a balm that
sheuld heal an aohing wound. In bell I
was seeking some powerful °audio that
should burn from me the image of my
Mina. Oh, respite from memory 1 Oh,
shelter from the shadow of the Lorelei 1
That I was searohing for.
I saw the cause and realized the 'wisdom
of the course, and, turning to what I had
been unoonsoloun to that other me I ex-
tended the right hand of fellowship, say.
ing Abide with rne, it is all that is left
Tie. Let the searoh go on," And when the
loathing made the horrore about me tin -
bearable, I only held to me the more
eagerly eat% glittering promiae of the &b.
horrent debauchery. As the rabid dog
turns again and again to the water pool,
thongh it drive him from it in convuleions,
so I returned to the fount&in of sin, with
shudder and loathing, longing dill to Bleck
the thirst which maddened me.
Onoe I thought that I wati sinking back
again into the anconthione stette, and with a
sad pleasure at parting from me I erdid ;
"Farewell! Penwell! Surely it is boner
that one then both of ne should suffer. It
will be at least a pareial oblivion, for it is
not a nomad if I do not hear it. Ib is not a
color if I do net see it. It is not ft pain if
I do not feel it." And it was ever with a
peonqfdieeppointneent that I awoke frem
sleep to find my conscioue tielf din with me
and Mina's image till beside me, looking
at me corpse the lifelees breaet of Lemma.
Out of life 1 bad made the sarcasm of
death, and death was now made for me the
serene= Of, lif41, Thae veldt% I hated was ever
in oloseet gontigutty, permeating the air I
breathed, living, wahine and eleeping with
me. That which I lotted lurked in spectre'
phantom, ever too far away to hear me oall,
yet ever too near to be f orgotten. He who has
wondered what hell is like ebould bee°
been, se I was, ten involuntary part of that
beteg in Paris.
One morning whiola I well remember,
produced a sensation which might almost
have etartled rne into life again. When the
broker cashed a draft for me he emiled and
warned me net to accept another from
Anothouy Winthrop, as he had been noti-
fied that the deposit in the benk of
Florence was exhausted. In those eighteen
months of unconeoiousness and in the oix
menthe of reolelessness width followed, I
had thrown to the winds the entire fortune
which my father had left me. I looked at
the broker for a moment itt dutub etonislin
meet, vaguely thinking of the future, but I
had sunk too deep, apparently, for salve.
tion; for in another hour I had forgotten
the whole circumstance, forgotten every.
thing, as usual, but the grim phantom
which haunted me. It required lees to
oblieerate the anxiety caused by inevitable
rain than to drive from rue the memory of
Mina, Long before her face had bit m
all the world besides was sunk in oblivion.
At first, as regent of myself, with other
resents, I had queffed the sparkling soul of
sunny Mrstme from silver and out glass
wine-oups in the dazzling oaf° where life
was ell one regal °arrayed. At lad, a
effigy, with the other effigies I gulped the
scorching draught in fetid byways. It did
not matter; it brought forgetfulness.
Again, one morning, I was mast:limo of
something for a moment thrilling my
dormant veins and working at the eluvial:1
pulsations of my heart, as I sat in low
cafe, sipping a cup of purulent coffee,erest.
lessly turning in my shaking heinde an old
copy of a Paris daily, besmeared with dirt
from its undue probation in that economi-
cal resort.
It was three days old, but what did that
signify? Whet bed I to do withahe world
that I should read of it at all? Most of
all, what had I to do with art that I
should turn to the column of the reviews
and criticisms, where, in years gone by, I
had so oftened scanned the artiolee concern.
ing the masterpieces of the age, as they
were presented to the public in the great
galleries of the world. The green grass and
the fiery Emmet were alike to me. 'What
had I to do with art'?
At first, I only noticed that the entire
column was devoted to one article, and it
round a little curiosity in Meth know what
earthly artist had risen to that pre•emin.
ence where he could demand such undue
attention, and resting my hands upon the
table that the paper might remain eteady
while I read, I glanced indifferently at the
leaded head lines :
"'NIGHT AND MORNING.'
The Two Grandeet Productions of the
Century."
For a moment I let the paper fall upon
the table. A bad learned all that I hied
sought. A little later, however, once more
tempted by random curiosity, I began the
tertiole which followed :
"Alter two yeare of unceasing effort the
dealers leave at last succeeded in purchasing
the two lent and greatest produotione of
the world-famous artist, M. Anthony Win.
throp, anli they are to tplaegAimpoit public
their exhibition in allerY teamorrow.
Tbie announcement is alone anfficient to
eneure the patronage of all Paris, and it
were folly to attempt to add to what the
ablest crities of Europe have already said
in praise of M. Winthrop's works.
"Since his advent among us, in that
beautiful miniature,' Beatrice by the River,'
which eight years ago drew eutea admiring
thronge to its obeoure position in the Salon,
Ple 'Winthrop's phenomenal rise to a posi.
tion second so none in the world, has been
fully recorded and freely acknowledged by
all the critics of Europe, and were this tell
that I had to repeat I should direly keep
silent. But, at the private view which was
to -day accorded to the artists of Paris, our
leaiing figare.painters frankly agreed that
the young Herod had out. Heroded himeelf,
and, in these last productions, had taken a
position rivaled by no artist in the world.
Strangely enough, the paintings were com-
pleted two years ago, just before the death
of the young artist's father, M. Carlo Win-
throp, whooe works have so long held a
meet deserved precedence, and the last
touch wee put upon the Morning' just
before the artist's well -remembered heroiem
in saving the life of a young women who
had atttnapted euicide in the Arno Since
then—for some strange reason—Pa. Win-
throp has positively refused to enter his
studio. In part, no doubt, this is due to a
couscionenese which he, as well as others,
must feel, that it were imposeible for hina
to excel his only successful tival—himeelf.
M. Winthrop °mild not do better if he
painted for a hundred years. Indeed, it
was the common conoession yesterday that,
in all probability, brushes and colors could
not, under any circumstances, produne two
more real and lifelike figures. This 'Night'
and ' Morning ' will long stand as champions
challenging the world, and it is, after all,
most appropriate that they complete the
perfect day of the greatest artist of the age.
"Tho dealers have long been eager to se.
cure these paintings, but, until two months
ago, M. Winthrop'e friends who had them
in charge positively refused to part with
them upon any terms whatever.'
Thus the artiole went on, until it had
filled the column. I had read enough. I
dropped the paper in dieguet and it fell
upon the filthy floor, while I tnrned again
to in insipid coffee. It was more tasteful,
after all, than mach vapid septiciem. 11 a
shameless, friendless, tottering drunkard!
What had I to do with Anthony Winthrop
that I should read of him?
I was glad that I had read, however, for
there was one fact that I recalled with
something that, in better digs, might heave
been satiefaction. 1* morbidly pleased me,
at least, that I had eaved Leonora's life,
though I do not think that I cered beyond
the selfish fact that it was disagreeable al.
ways to see her lyieg oold and white between
Mina and me, and to know that Mina must
always think of her as my victim. Nothing
more did I key? Perhaps I vette not quite
so hard.heatted after all, for it was int
pleasant for me,even thereto think that Leo-
nora had died like that. Yee, I was glad that
thine one had ettved her, and on the whole
I was rather glad it was I. It was not
worth the waste of time and etrength re-
quired to think it over, however, and
dropped it *with a sigh ; for it would not
rid me of that phantom, Mina, after all.
She would find some other way th haunt
mc; and, shrugging my shoulders indiffer-
ently, I turned to another thought which
had risen up between the line—" Until
two monthe ago M. Winthrop's friends
who had them in charge peteitively refneed
to part with them upon any terms whets°.
ever."
• Ha 1 'Until two Menthe ago M. Win.
thropie drafts were teethed from hie Where;
bank account, Yee, it was the pace of
bleed which honored *het lad draft of
mine, and alb that was left of it was now iu
euy pooket. 1 °linked the few foul eilver
plums there and thought of the Producer in
hie studio and of the coneumer in the vile
cafe. What an inspiration it would have
been could I have looked aheed a little way,
while I wan painting Leonora, and Incee
meta who would be Itept alive and Moore
and how, by the soulless money value of
each etrolte I
Whet an inspiration 1 I laughed aloud,
Those about me heard the coarse gurgie
aud turned and looked at nee for an
instant ; but, vile as they were, most of
*hem, they turned away in disgust. I saw
it. I knew it. I understood it. I did not
care.
Still I sat there vaguely thinking of the
pioturesitill I began to wonder if it would
be wortli my while to look at them again.
Very soon they would, doubtlese, be pun
thaeed for some private collection some.
where, and then they would be beyond my
reach ; for who would admit me to a
private gallery
Balancing myself between the table and
the ohair, I rose unsteadily and looked at
myself in the smeared mirror that, fair or
foul, as the case maybe, is indispensable to
the Paris restaurant. He 1 Who would
admit me to a private gallery
Oblivious to my surroundings I laughed
again at the bloated fano andthe blood -shot
eyes that leered back at Inc from the mirror,
and, leering, seemed to say What is
there in you of Anthony Winthrop 2 "
What? Everything It is Anthony
Winthrop all in all. It is all that he set
his heart to be. Look at him again.
Brush the smirches off the mirror that you
may et e him raore plainly, in ail his hideous
distortions; for you are looking at the
prinoe of living painters and at abeolutely
nothing more. Had ho sought to be any.
thing more 2
bruehect the smirches off the mirror
with a coat sleeve hardly less greasy and
smirched, and I looked again and more
carefully. I looked, till over me there
stole it sentiment of something like it de•
previty of pleasure in the thought that
Mina was responsible for it all. Had I not
done everything, sacrificed everything to
paint that picture that should be the
triumph for her and for me, brought from
the heart of the Lorelei? And if she had
not deserted me, should I be where I was?
If she returned to me, could she not, even
then, may redeem roe? With all the
heart and soul that wee left me I believed
these sentiment.
(To be continued.)
The Patronage of Parishes.
The following is the ooncludine portion
of an artiole in the Evangelical Churchman
by Judge Ritchie, of Halifax, N. S. : " The
first distinct provision made by statute (of
Nova Scotia) for the election of the rectors
by the pariebioners was in 1876. As early
as 1757 the law provided for the induction
of
it minister licensed by the Bishop of
London, into any parish that should make
presentation of him. Before 1876 there
was some question es to the parties in
whom the right of presentation was vested.
The parishioners of many parishes claimed
and exeroised it, notebly those of Sb. Paul's
perish, Halifax, who elected and presented
all their rectors except one ; he was nomi-
nated by the Crown on the ground. that the
rectory became vecent by the elevation of
the previous rector to the office of bishop,
and therefore the right of presentetion was
it common law right inherent in the Crown
be vittue of the prerogative, rend wee not
affected by the statcae. This exeraiee of
the prerogative however, gave rise to it
great deal of difficulty and created dimen-
sions in that parish which were not healed
for it great many yeare.
"Tho laity of the Chorale of England in
Nova Scotia having almost invariably
selected their own clergymen and managed
their own perechied affairs, it is diffiealt
for me to compare that eyetera with any
other, in the wetting of which I have had
no experience whatever. The °cession I
have referred to, when the crown exercised
its prerogative of appointing a rector for
St. Paul's, Halifax, is the only one, to my
knowledge, where a rector was appointed
to the charge of it parish in Nova Bootie in
direct opposition to the expressed wishes
of a majority of the parishioners, and the
consequences were no doubt very injurious
to the intereelis of the parish; while on the
other hand the election of the rector by the
people seems always to have proved satis.
factory, although in some cases, where the
minority was large and the feelings
somewhat excited, the tranquility of the
parish was for a short time disturbed.
This, however, would in all probability
happen in every cese where a number of
the parieloioners did not approve of the
appointment, no matter how it was made.
So far as I am aware no difficulty hie
hitherto been experienced in tbe practical
working of the Nova Scotia system, and I
know of no important emendment or addl.
Lion which it would be desirable to Meer-
porete in the Act. Any movement to
curtail the power of the laity in Nova
Scotia to eelect their own rector and
manage their own parochial affairwould
be nnenimouely and vigorouely opposed,
and from what I know of therm it the
presentation to the rectories was not fully
controlled by them they would never rest
satisfied until the law was amended."
The Stutt:They are Made of.
The occupations of the representatives in
the Legielative Assembly, Toronto, may
be interesting. Here are the figures :
Conser-
form, vative.
13 13
10
Farmers
Merchants
Lawyers
Doctors
T'l.
26
10
10 3 13
6 5 11
6
3 0 5
3 0 3
Stanequarrymen 2 0 2
Contractors 1 1 2
1 1 2
0 1 1
Carriage builder o 1 1
Baker .. 1 o 1
Auctioneer 0 1 1
Tanner 1 o 1
.._ _
Printers
Lumbermen
Millers
abeesemen
Drover
55 Si 90
One to be elected.
His Best Licks,
Philadelphia, Times: " I believe in it fel-
low keeping his head, although I've been
where more is done ity an engry man than
a cool one,"
" How is that ?"
" Why, I notice when my tietddy ie
need at me he always gate in his best
licks,"
--Mho Mollie Talmage, it niece of Dr.
Talmage, was born in China and lived
there some time as a missionary. She
could epee's Chinon before she learned
English.
--Kate Field is not the large, dashing
masculine woman that many belioue etto is
by any mecum On the contrary she itt ex.
ceedingly feminine and unassuming. She
is rather small in stature with an adrairet.
ble knack of saying things that are remem-
bered and passed along from month to
mouth.
Ttotal number of deaths in New York
State during February wee 8,704, an
inoresee of 1,214 over the average for the
Sarno month for the past six years.
WONIAN'S PLAN FOR WOMEN,
Mrs, Frank Leslie Promises Her iitortune
to Poor, lediunited Wortley.
Um, Frank Leslie hes decided to found
an iestilution for women; not for paupgre,
but for women who earn their own lime
either by literature, art or by any eimilar
Pr(11featitaiQu
iBnot during my lifetime," field Mrs.
Leslie. I am going to meet my tempers
en Wednesday evening and instruot them
to drew up a new will, In this I then be.
queath :tiniest all of my property to found
an institution to help women who are help.
ing themeelvee.
Eatioated and able-bodied women who
oannot help themeelves do not deserve to bo
helped. Paupers, children, lunatics, the
aged ana the eiok are all oared for now.
Men eeed no help. The very fact of being
men givee them abundant opportunity to
earn their living. Women are handicapped
in many ways. I do not think any one bas
over held oot a helping hand to them in the
way I propose."
In reply to it query as to the nature of
the institution elle proposed to found, Mre.
Leen° stated tient in many reepeote it
would be it parallel of the Players' Club
that Booth gave to his fellows.
subeeantial building will be bought, or,
mors probably, built. In this studies for
women artists will be provided. Club
rooms, library, baths, offices and eo forth
will be planned. A restaurant, at whiola
meek will he 1 arnished et clod price, es in
men's clubs, will be it feature. Lecture
rooms and mimeos of lectures will be per-
manently endowed.
" To Mow you how women are handi-
capped," said Mrs. Leslie, "I will instance
the case of a young friend of mine. She
is ebout 22 years old and an artist of con-
siderable ability. A liew studio building
was opened recently. My young feiond
rented it studio and spent a good deal of
money furniehing and fitting it up. All
the other studios were rented to men.
Now, MI older woman and one who was
not et all sensitive might have braved it
out. But my young friend was sensitive
and had to move, as it was imposeible for
her to remain living all alone in a building
with a orowd of men. If she was not
handicapped eimply by being a woman, I
don't keow what the word handicap
meanie"
Mrs. Leslie was asked what amount of
money the proposed to devote to the pur-
pose.
" That," ehe replied, "will have to de-
pend upon how much longer I live. My
propertiee are now valued at about 6600,-
000. Most of this will be left, so that if I
should die thie week, it would become the
endowment fund for the women's club.
Bat I hope to live many years lozger.
"I hope to remain in business ten yeare
more and enjoy life as I have been doing
for the pad few years. After that, I than
retire and spend the rest of my life in
enjayine the fruits of my yearn of hard
work.",
"Please tell the people," added Mrs.
Leslie, "then I shall do nothing et all in
the wee, I have indicated until after I have
paei ed away. I went to eejoy my fortune
while I live." —New York Morning ,Journal.
Ingersoll's Eulogy on Barrett.
Coe Robert G. Ingersoll lectured before
the New York Press :nub et the Broadway
Thetetre Sunday evening before an immense
audience. His subject was William Sinks -
p0500, and the Now York papers declare
that it was the greatest effort of hie life.
Before connnencing the lecture proper he
paid the following tribute to Lawrence Bar •
rett es it prelude to his subject:
"idy heert tells me that on the threshold
of my address it will be appropriate for me
to say a few words about the greet motor
who hue just fallen into that deep that we
°all death. Lawrence Barrett was my
friend and I was his. Ho wee an inter-
preter of Shakspeare, to whose creation
he gave flee& and blood. He began
at the fonndatioa of his profession
and rose until he deed, next to his
friend, next to one who is regetraed as
the greatest tragedian of our time
next to Edeviu Booth. The life of Law-
rence Barrett wee it suocees becsiuee he
honored himself and added glory to the
stage. He did not seek for gain by pander-
ing Ile the thoughtlese, ignorant or base.
He gave the dramit in its highest and most
zerions form. He spurned the queetion.
able, tate vulgar and impure, and gave the
intelleetual, the pathetic, the manly and
the tragic. He did not stoop to conquer.
Ho tittered. He was fitted for the stage.
Ho had it thoughtful face, a vibrant
170108 and the pose of chivalry, end
besides he led patience, industry,
courage, and ths genine of success. He was
a grin:an:II and etriking Bassanio, to
thoughtful Hamlet, an intense Othello, it
marvelous Heathen, and the beet Classing
o1 the centu:y. In the drama of our human
life all ere actors, and no one knows his
pert. In this great play the scenes are
shiftea by unseen forces, and the com•
mencement,plot and end are still unknown,
are unnatiesed. One by one the players
6. -)Ave the etage and others take their pieces.
There is no pause. The play goes on. No
prompter's voice is heard, and no one has
the slighted clue to what the next Boone is
to be. Will the drama have an end? Will
the curtain fall at lad 2 Will it rise again
upon some other dame Reason says
perhaps, and hope still whispers yes. Sadly
I bid my friend farewell. I admired the
rotor and I loved the man."
A String of Abstains.
The following is, says the Australian
Sunday School Teacher, from a boy's essay
on total abstinence: "1 abstain from
eh:obeli° drinks because, if I would excel as
it cricketer, Grace says, abstain ; as it
walker, Weston says, abstain ' ; au ma
oarsman, Hankie says, abetain ; as a
swimmer, Webb Bays, abstein ' as an
orator, Bright says, abstain ' ; no a mis-
sionary, Livingstone says, abstain ; 50 a
doctor, Clark says, ' abstain ' ; as it
prim:her, Farrar says, abstain.' Asylums,
prisons and workhouses repeat the ory,
abetain ; ' " We have heerd a long speech
with lees in it.
Ono of the latest "fade" in liquid
refreshments is the oyster cocktail. Very
small Oysters are specially ordered for the
prirpom, Eight or ten are put in a glass
and sprinkled over with pepper and atilt.
Then some imported malt vineger is
poured over thorn end the mixture is ready
for the coneortion—Chicago Post.
Little girl—Your papa has only got one
leg, haen't he Veteran's little girl—Yee.
Lietle girl—Where's his other one Vet-
ere/1'e litele girl—Hush, dear ; it's in
heaven.---Graed Army Bugle.
—" I vvieh to say to the oongregation,"
said the minister, i1 that the pulpit ie rot
responsible for the orror of the printe4on
the tioltete for the concert in the Sunday
school room. The concert is for the benefit
of the arch fond, not the erole fiend. We
will now sing hymn sim ' To err is human,
to feegive
The Florid launder flays that the moot
expensive dinner decoration he ever had
charge of was on the occasion of the Del.
monk° banquet, when the whole °title), for
fireweed alone amounted to $3,000,
A te001) SAIKARITAN.
Affecting Street Scene ta Iniontreo,
A Mine, in ninny respect% a painful
one, but which showed the true worrian.
hood of a lady who heppened to be peesing
at the time, was witneesed on Lagauit,
chetiere street last evening. 'Aboue 6
oiolock quite it crowd collected on the
street to wham the entitle of an unfor.
tunate venlig woman who wee under the
influence of liquor ard daneing in front of
Si. Bridget's Horne to the apparent delight
of the heartlees gathering of onlookore.
When the uneeemly exhibition had leeted
quite it while, it lady happened elongt.
Without a thought of her costly attire and
regardless of the jeers of the orowd she an -
hesitatingly caught the poor creature by
the arm, and induced her to s000mpany
her, She brought the unfortunaee to the •
door of St. Bridget's Home and craved.for
admission, only to meet with refuted. Unt
&tainted she tried the adjoining institution,
with the same result. The lady then stood
for a few moments on t/ae sidewalk se if
nuaeoided what to do. Finally, the light
Christian charity illumining her face, she •
wee heard to remark, "Tho poor creature
°tweet be left on the street; I will take her
home." A passing cab wne celled nnd the
lady and her charge drove off.—Montrea
Herald.
A Woman's Essay on Women,
It often puzzles me that some men mend,
to prefer silly women. Some Meyer men),
too, perhaps on the tame principle es the
eminent raaeician who unit eay, " Give
me your stupid pupils." They never omen,
sidered themselves clever enough to leave
him. I am told that Herbert Spencer
eujoys the society of giggling girls, perhaps
eie a complete centred to his Went work.
Yet, in spite of this, it always annoys me
to eee 4 mindless woman at the mercy of
an aggressively superior men who le'
&lenge eitber bore or it bully, ior she is
stare to Owe herself away. What pathos
there is in Oongreve's lites, if one only
look at them from this point of view :
When Lesbia first I saw, so heavenly fair,.
With eyes so bright and with that awful air,
I thought my heart would durst so high aspire
As bold as he who snatched celestial fire.
But soon as e'er the beauceons idiot spoke,
Forth from her coral lips the folly broke;
Like balm the trickling nonsense heal'd my
wound,
And what her eyes enthralled, her tongue -
unbound I
Poor Lesbia who no doubt • horight her"
face had conquered the irresistible Con-
greve, to read that she wae only a beau-
teous idiot' after all. It was a pitiful ,.
termination to what was doubtless a moat
exoiting episode for he. But the was
silly woman, he the witty and
excpieite maker of comedies. What
else could be ? The age of gallantry is
over, and our Pineres and Joneses and
Grandys do not write cutting epigrams •
about the young ladies they meet nowa-
days ; at least I hope not—indeed. I am
sure not, or we ehould reed them in the
Era, but silly women are pitied and
'neighed at all the seme, perhaps by even
sillier men, and thtit is what irritates me.
A great many women, I am euro,have the
reputation for being stupid, simy becenee
they allow their native win; to go to rust
they hese no self-relience, and they have •
been reared to it sert of religious belief in
the sanctity of man'e euperior sense and
intenect. finch women seldom, if ever,
exercise their own ideas, even in matters of
dress, while their minds rarely verge
beyoua social courtesies and domeetio con- .
fines.
Good Words tor Girls.
Your mother is your hest friend.
Have nothing to do witlatgirle who male
their parents.
Tell the pleaeantest things you know
when at meals.
Do not expect your brother to he as''
dainty as a girl.
Exercise, and never try to lookfeas if you e
were in delicate heelth.
Introduce every new acquaintance to
your mother as soon as poesible.
Don't think it neceesary to get married.
There is plenty of room Inc old Maids, end
they are often Nippier than wives.
Enjoy the pleasures provided for you
by your parents to the fullest extent. They
will like that as a reward better than any
other.
Most fathers are inclined to over -indulge
their daughters. Make it impossible for
your father to spoil you by fairly returning
his devotion tend affection.
Never think you lean afford to be dowdy
at home. Cleenliness, hair well-dressed
and it smile will make it calico look like
eilke and Retina to a father or brother.
Do not quarrel with your brother gdo
not preach at hint, and do not coddle him.
Mahe him your friend, and do not eapect
him to be your eervant, nor let him enpecti
you to he his.
Notes From Scotland.
The British Postmaster -General &n-
ommen, the esteblishroent shortly of a
service for the rapid tranemission of letters
for short distances.
Damage to tho extent of between £500•
and £600 Ma done by a fire which occurred
on the 121h inst. in Princes' Street Railway
Station, Perth. '
Mr. John Dick Peddle, R. S. A, who
represented the Eilmernocit Burghs in.
Parliament from 1880 to 1885, died on the
1211 Met., at the age ot 67.
The Haddington cettle.disborning case
oame up before the Justiciary Court at
Edinburgh on the 131b. Men, when the
oourt unanimously ffirmed that ouch die -
horning was not cruelty to animals within
the meaning of the AoL
A little pressure has been brought to
bear upon Lord Rosebery, with the result
that he is expected to return to public 11
itnmediately after Easter. At present th
Liberele are badly represented in thet
House of Lords. Earl Granville has been
confined to his honse through indisposition,
and Lord Kimberley (=ries no weight or
authority, The reedit hae been that for a
ooneiderable time Premier Salisbury has
never enoonntered even a word of oriticism
in ehe Upper Honse.
Dan Cupid on a Small -Beer Spree.
This is what a Jersey hridegroormeleot
sent to the bride•eleot on the day set for
their wedding:
There will be no wedding. The young
lady hat refused to accede to my request
and the marriage is off, , I have lost an
faith in women and will have nothing
more to do with them.
It turned out that the bumbug of a love
had married another girl the night before
N inety. one Japanetie swordia the propetr
of Brayton Ives and exposed at the sale o
Mr. Ives' brima-brac in New York o
Thursday night, were purehaeed for th
Metropolitan =Wail of art for $15,000
r.Chis sum of money was raieed la a fe
hours by a number of gentlemen who di
not like to see the fine sword collectiontdis
parsed, Mr, Ives himself contributing 0,06
for the purpose,
Baron Rothechild has offered to adnance
money to finish the Blanchester Ship
Canal, in the event of that city net being
able to raise it. He sees the advantege of'
having two great seaports on the we t,
coast 01 England,
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