Evening gazette, Tuesday, February 11, 1896 · page 7

 

l’.

1

 

 

r1

3/ ‘gone’

' telling this story.

 
 

 

pie said Gordon ill-treated her.

 

#7 , , . .1

3; WHY I AM HAPPY.

 

, ‘Dear Tern is dead. please come to-nightl"

She telegraphed. With keen delight
I read the message.

Roses, for consolation meant, ,

I sent, but 0h! with what content,
I paid expreSsage. -

Don’ t think me heartless, till you know
Death has relieved me of- aroe.
Tom was my rival.
When he began to pine away
-I scarcely was the one to pray -
For his survival.

' He’ 5 hated me since first we met,

He was a most pronounced brunette,
While I am fair.

He was more favored of the two;

Of soft caresses very few
Fell to my share.

But now he’ 5 dead, I feel no spite,
I hope his harp is tuned all right,
His robe a. fit, his halo bright
., With gems galore. , .
And just this once do I confess
The reason of my happiness—
Because on eartht here’ s one eat less.
In Heaven one more.
. . —M. T. Hart, in Life.

, s

 

 

 

 

CHOLLY’S ~ STORY.

 

It was too warm an evening, even for
a smoking concert. Cholly said, as he
came out of his 100m attired all in
“bite, looking a perfect picture of

manly beauty. Cholly was a blonde
specimen of the male sex, blue-eyed,
g01den-haired;a stalwart representa-
iixe of the Saxon type. He was 27, well
‘l laced as regards this world’s wealth
a -_1d position. Life to him—thanks to
old Egerton Bailev, his late father—
1111s a pleasant pastime, the world a

harmed play place, where girls wor-
sh nod him and men voted him a
trump. So much for Cholly , debonair,
kind-hearted and handsome, who had

, tr av eled the world over making friends
v1 herever he went.

Cholly’s prediction that it was too
-w arm even f01 a smoking concert on
this particular ev ening was verified by
-tb e slim attendance there on h1s arrival
C-nly eight men out of 30 expected
found theii way to the usual rendez-
\ous. By gc cneral agreement the music
v as banished, coats disca1ded,neg1igee

attitudes assumed and the eight men
amused themselves by 1elating anec—
clotes and personal experiences.

“By the way, Cholly,” at last afriend
saidtothe blondeAdonis, who, sprawled
(:11 a sofa, was listening quietly to the
conversation, “you’ re very silent to-
night, you’ve just arrived from the
nest, too. Come, haven’t you some
lilood-curdling tale to tell us of western
rtrocities, cowboys ‘breaks’ or out-

1ages? These fellows’ stories are stale.
W e require something spicy to stir
us up a night like this.”

“Well, I did have an adventure, but
its recital won’t be spicy, Tracy; I don’t

' ' think it will be the style y0u care for.”

“Out with it! Out with it'!” seven
voices simultaneously exclaimed. “Is
it a Christian Endeavor story , Cholly ‘2”
asked Tracy. , “You do look awful sol-
emn.” '

“sates a Sunday-school tale,” said
Andy Vicars, a, very young man with
a new mustache and a draw]. .

‘.‘ All right,” said Cholly, quietly. “If
_1 on felloWs don’t be quiet, I won’t tell
it.’

“Go on, Cholly, don’t. mind the
calves,” grunted old'Maj. Poole. “Tell
us your story, man.”

“It will interest you, major; doubt-
less you remember the Donovans, of
Limerick—prettyKate, they called one
of them. I met them in Dublin.”

' “Do I remember her? May me eys

- fall out of me head if I ever see her likes

again—eyes like violets, hair like ink
and a skin like peaches and cream. And
a figger! God bless you, boys, she had
a figger like a goddess. She could ride
cross country like a bird. Never saw
such a rider before nor since. But,
Cholly, me boy, I thought you were
in that direction. Oh, the pair
you’d have made.”

Cholly blushed scarlet, the company
exchanged glances. “Seems to me,”
said Andy Vicars, “that the major’s
Go on, Cholly, hold
the platform.” So Cholly cleared his
throat (as Andy said afterward he
seemed mightily upset by the major’s
remarks), wiped the perspiration from
his flushed face, and began:

“You see, fellows, my story will have
to consist of two parts, the introduction
and the sequel. It begins in Ireland
four years ago and ends in Canada four
days ago. It was in Dublin that I first
met Miss Kate Donovan, of Limerick.
She was a stunner, as the major says,

‘the best cross-country rider I ever saw.

She was as poor as a church mouse and .
as proud as Lucifer. She was an or-
phan, had been brought up by her uncle,-

rold Peter Donovan; he had three

daughters of his own, but none of them
could hold a candle to Miss Kate herself.
From what I saw during the time I was
in Dublin, I don‘t think the trio'cared
much for pretty Kate; they'werc jeal-

ous of her, and took pains to show it in
many petty ways, particularly when .

Capt. Gordon, ,who was considered a

' matrimonial catch, appeared on the
_. Scene and devoted himself to Kate. ”

“Capt. Rupert Gordon, of the 47th. 9”
queried Maj. Poole.-
, “The very same, a dark beggar, with
a bad mouth and lots of money.

“Well, he was the man that set all the
Dublin girls wild. They literally lion-

'ized him. He was douce enough there.
Ile was asked everywhere, and old Peter
. " Donovan was mad enough when he
' f asked him for his niece, and not for one

of his daughters. They said the three

ii} girls never spoke to Kate for weeks.

“Poor Kate, she hardly knew what to

do; she wasvery unhappy—she told me

all about.it one evening at a dance.
She had a devil of a life in her uncle’ :3

house, and Gordon seemed very fond of

. She didn’t know what he really
was; neither did I, or I could have
warned her. They. were married, in
September; in November Gordon took
her to the Riviera after the honeymoon
was over; a fellow who met them there

her

told me that Kate—that 18,1 Mrs. GordOn '

looked miserably. unhappy, and peo-
How-
ver that may be, she did not stay with

 

 

 

him very long. Onejday ia.woma.n ap~
peared at the hetel where they were
staying; she was a gaudily-attired spec-

imen, not overcultured. She registered ‘

as.Mrs Capt. Gordon, and forced her-
self into the Gel-don private rooms.
Gordon hadn’t aword to say; he owned
up that he had married her five years
before somewhere, where his regiment
was stationed; I forget where. There
was a terrible scene, which endedby
Kate‘ leaving thehotel. No one knew
where she went. My friend, an Eng-

lishman, who told'me just what I have

told you, tried to follow her and offered
to do what he could for her in a mone-
tary way. He was a gentleman, and
meant well by her.
fers of assistance, and disappeared as
if the Mediterranean had swallowed her
up. He heard of her again at Mar-
seilles; she had been singing in a cafe
there; she alw ay 5 had a passable voice,
and play ed the banjo well. Poor Kate,
her pride was dragged in the dust, her
heart was broken.’ ,

Cholly paused to wipe the perspira-
tion from his face and take a few sips
from a tumbler beside him.’ The old
major, for a wonder, kept silence, from
time to time shaking his head sorrow-
fully.

“I suppose that' 1s the first part of the
story _’ broke in Andy Vicars. “It is
deuced sad; hope the little girl got
back to her uncle. "

“Uncle!” growled Maj. Poole. “Poor
child, he didn’t want her. He was a
cruel-hearted, mean old scoundrel, was
Peter Donovan; he never treated the
'girl right when he had her.”

Cholly nodded his head affirmatively
to Maj. Poole’s assertion, and continued
his story:

“This all happened four years ago;
no one heard anything during that time
of pretty Kate Donovan, for you see
she wasn’t Mrs. Gordon, after all. .An
aunt of hers did have the grace to
writ to me making inquiries; she had
hear that Kate was in the United
States, in a place called Pennsylvania,
and would I make inquiries, as I lived.
no doubt.‘near there“? You know, these
old country people, as they call them-
selves, think that the United States are
about as large as an English colony.”

“Do I know it ?” interrupted the
major. “Why, a lady in London once
asked me to personally deliver a small
parcel of china to her daughter, because
I lived in New York, near where her
daughter was settled. 'I took the par-
cel, thinking to see the address of some
street here. Where do you think the
fair creature lived?”

“New Jersey?” hazarded Vicars.

“Maine?” queried another.

“No!” roared the major; “Idaho!”

“Guess you didn’t accept the commis-
sion, major,” said Cholly.

“W’ell, no. I relieved my mind by
reciting'sundry words notin Webster’s
dictionary. G0 on, my boy. Tell us
all you know of pretty Kate Donovan."

“I came through Canada on my way
from the west, a‘few days ago,” con?
tinued Cholly. “We changed cars at a
place not far from Toronto, and had
some hours to wait for connect-ion.
Strolling around, I came to a . place
where a circus was in full swing.
Double tent, side shows, all complete.
Consulting my watch, I found I had
time to see the performance. An Eng-

‘1ish Steeplechase was advertised as

the chief attraction. It had just com-
menced when I took my seat in the
first row close to the ring. I can hard-
ly tell you mv feelings when I recog-
nized the first lady rider who entered—
it was Kate Donovan.”

“Good heaiens!” ejaculated the ma-
jor. “Come to that?”

“Yes, it was Kate. Graceful, lithe,
nervy as ever, looking like a queen
among those painted judys and rough
men.”

“How could you sit there and see it?”
groaned Maj. Poole.

“I hadn’t to sit long. I recognized
her instantly—arid, poor girl, she saw
me.”

“Knew you?” gasped the major.

“Yes, she turned pale unded the hor-
rible paint and rouge she was daubed
with; somehow she seemed to lose her
nerve all of a sudden. The horse, a
vicious black beast, swerved to one side
sudden 1y-—-major———fellows, I cannot tell
it. It was too horrible.”

“Kate Donovan to lose her nerve on.

horseback? I cannot credit it,” said
the major, in anawed tone.
“I was ‘in the ring and by her side in

a moment,” Cholly continued, not no-

ticing the majors interruptiOn. “She
knew me, poor girl, when her eyes
opened for the first time. She died with
her hands tightly clasped in mine."

“Did she sa-ay anything?” asked
Andy V'icars;
thing. P”

“If she did, you’ re not the one I’d re-
peat it to," said Cholly, fiercely. “The
last words of a poor dying girl are hard-
ly club talk, notif I know it.”

So saying, Cholly seized- his coat and
strode angrily from the room.

The other men looked at each other
significantly.

“He’s hit hard ’,’saidthe major; “poor

fellow. If you had seen Kate you’d not
blame him. I always thought he liked
her.” '

And Cholly, as he strode along the
street homeward, cursed his own folly
in telling the story of pretty Kate to
such an audience. “As if they cared,”
he muttered. They were a set of hard-
hearted, cold, cynical men, and he,

Cholly, was a fool fOr telling the story-

Somehow, he had never realized before
that he had “cherished anlideal for the
past four years, and that ideal was
the woman who but a few days before
had died in his arms. '

Vicars what she said? Cholly smiled

grlmly as the thought struck him, for \
only he kne v what those last words:

had been. They. echoed in his ears
even now in the din and'noise of the
N cw York evening. \
‘fCholldeear—dear—ACholly. " i
If she had only said them four years
ago, he "thought miserably, as he shoved
the key into the latch Of his home door.

. Iflr—V anity

to...» ,

She refused all of?

“did she tell you any-~

Tell that idiot . .

 

 

THIS IS A BIG COUNTRY

If You Don’t Believe It Listen to This
» Man’s Remarks.

“Few Americans appreciate the vast

extent of our national domain,” said

Col. Charles C. Moffert, of Denver, to

the Buffalo Courier. “I- firmly believe ‘

that some day in the near future well
have air lines of transportation between
all points—either up in the air or oth-
erwise. I’m bound for New York, and
I’d save 12 hours’ travel if I could travel
in a straight line. from Denver to New
York. For instance, the air line be-
tween Chicago and New York is 700
miles; by rail it is 961 miles. From Buf—.
falo to New York it is 295 milesin an air
line, 422 miles by rail. Why, our coun-
try is so great that the public lands
here exceed in the number of square
miles the whole of Russia in Europe.

The state of Texas is much larger than .

Austria, Germany or France; New Mex-
ico is larger than England, Ireland,
Scotland” and Wales combined; Mon-
tana is larger than Norway; Missouri
is larger than Turkey in Europe, Ken-
tucky' 1s larger than Portugal, West Vir.
ginia is larger than Greece, Arizona is
as large as Italy, Indiana is twice as
large as Switzerland, and Wyoming and
Oregon are as large as Spain. In the
event of a. successful war of conquest
with Great Britain, or by annexation,
if the United States should become pos-
sessed of Canada, it would add 3 ,,204 313
square miles of territory to the great
republic, and our total area would

then be 6807 311 square miles. We

would still be one-third smaller than
the Russian empire, and one-third
larger than the Chinese empire.”

SCHEMES TO WIN AT POKER.

Devices That While Not Open Cheating
Are Quite as Bad.

There'are more simple ways than one
to win at a. game of poker, without
openly cheating, as is evidenced by a
couple of young men who belonged to
a poker club recently broken up and
who played the game to win. They had
various schemes, the first being as fol-
lows: They would go into agame with

 

plenty of money, begged 0r borrowed'

if necessary; they would play in every
good-sized stake and let the small ones
alone; th-ey'w0uld begin to bet, each
raising the other and their companions
at the table, irrespective of the size of
hands; whether the others held enor-
mous hands or not they were bound
to go out' 1n time, and then the partners
would divide the spoils, in this way
managing to turn many an honest—or
dishonest—penny, as the opinion may
be. The second game was not so fair,
says the Syracuse Post. The two con-
'spirators sat next to one another.
They would look into one another’s
hand, and'the lowest man would drop
out at the appropriate time. Then
he would take every occasion to look
into the other's hands. If they were

higher than his eompanion’s he would

nudge the companion and the latter
would drop out; otherwise he would re-
main with the certainty of winning
the money. The two rogues had nu-
merous otherways of beating the game,
but these were the plain, unvarnished
foundations for many a. case of high-
way robbery on their part.

ORDERED A TIN. PETTlCOAT-.

The Pope Insisted That a Nude Statue Be
Draped. ’

One of the most curious instances
of the struggle between art and pro-
priety is shown in St. Peter’s. The

-writer, says the Troy Press, was ram-

bling through the great cathedral one
day when he suddenly came upon an
enormity. It was the superbly sculp-
tured form of a beautiful woman, the
head, hands, neck, ankles and feet sep-
arate masterworks of art. The word
separate is used advisedly, for the torso
and legs were modestly hidden under a
tin petticoat painted to represent mar-
ble, but so ill in color and drapery line
that the entire statue seemed disjoint-
ed and at war in its component parts.
“Si signer,” said the guide, apologet-
ically. “It is the impossible. Very
true. But what can be helped? The
sculptor he make beautiful model nude.
It will not do. It is on the pope’s tomb.
.The pope, he comes to see his tomb
two, three hundred years ago. He say
no. We will not have such thing. He
tell the sculptor to put- on the drapery.
The artist, he say no—-it is impossible.
Then the pope call a workman and he
say—put on the clothes on the figure.

The workman not. an artist, only a.

workman. He put on the tin pet-t-icoat
and paint it. The pope satisfied. He
die and is buried in the tomb. But
everybody wonder two, three hundred
years at the figure.”

The Lord Mayor's Robes.
London’s 10rd mayor has to put on

three suits of clothes on taking office.
He wears a wide-sleeved, velvet-faced,‘

fur-trimmed robe of purple silk rep on
presenting himself to the lord chan-
cellor at Westminster; this he uses
afterward as a police magistrate. For

his show he wears a robe of superfine 4

scarlet broadcloth, faced with sable fur
and'lined'with pearl satin;'this he must
wear when greeting the judges at the
Old Bailey and on all saints’ days. The
dress for evening and formal receptions
is a black damask satin robe, embroid-
ered with silver gilt. Under these he
wears a velvet coat and knee breeches.

The robes are aperquisite of the offiee .

and cost. $1,000. The chain: of office
has on it diamonds worth $600,000,, and
each lord mayor must give bonds for
its safe return on receiving it. When
the queen passes through the, city a

"fourth robe is necessary, but, as this
seldom happens, it IS bought only when

the occasion arises.

 

. Long Telegraph Line.

The longest telegraph line in the
world, above ground and without a
break, has just been completed in
Australia, that land of long distances.

The line runs with a circumbendibus ,

from Rockhampton, in Queensland, to

‘Br00m‘e, in western Australia, and
Crosses about tWO-thirds of the entire.
(continent. The total length is 5:0va

thing over 6 ,000 miles. :1 . .

 

 

WlVES AS TREASURERS-

A Man Whose Wife Carried the Pam—A‘

} Bachelor’s Wisdom.

Two passengers on a New Haven train
approaching the city a few mornings

ago conversed together 'in a loud tone—n .

that 'is, one of them, who was blufl,

hearty, stout and. a bachelor, talked in'

a particularly lend voice, while his com-
panion, who was thin, meek and a bone-
dict, answered in lower tones, which
were still not inaudible after the pas-
sengers in the seats near by began to
take an interest in the conversation.

“ No,” said the bachelor, “they want
me to get married, but I tell them that
I’ve seen enough of married people and
I don’t care to be tied down the way
most of them are. Why, there was a
man down in our place died not long
ago, and the widow came down to get
his wages. He had died on a. Friday,

and he had a week’s wages coming to .

him. You ought to have seen that Wid-
ow when she found out how much he
got a- week. .He had been taking his
wages home to her every Week and giv-
ing it all to her to divide, as she sup-
posed.-. But when she found out that he
had been getting $3 aweek more all the
time she seemed to wish that he were
alive again just for a little while, but I
guess that he would just as soon have
been dead if he had had-his choice then.
I have heard lots of people say that you
ought to take all your money home to
your wife, but I don’t want any one

telling me how much I shall spend for.

carfare or luncheon. ”

“ Well, "there is something in that,”
said the married man basely. He was a
particularly humble looking man, who

crouched down in his seat as if he did'

not dare sit upright, but his wife was
far away, and he was emboldened, in

the confidences of talk on a suburban

train, to reveal his woes. "Now, I do
feel badly sometimes when I want to
take a man out to luncheon with mic
and spend some money in entertaining
him. If I don’t do it, I.cannot verywell
keep his custom, and if I do it, 'it costs
so much money that my wife, who
knows just what I receive, thinks I am
dreadfully extravagant, and talks to me
about the way in which I am wasting
money.’

“Yes, that’ 8 just it,” said the loud
voiced bachelor. ”If you don’t spend
money you lose trade, and yet you mar—
ried men are half of you afraid to go
around and spend money freely on your
customers. I know a man in our store
who doesn’t dare spend more than 35
cents for luncheon for fear his wife will,
find it out. They talk about letting your
wife spend all your money, but for my
part I’d rather spend it myself, and
that’s why I tell all my friends that I
am not. going to be married. ”

Just at this point the train entered
the Park avenue tunnel and the voice of
the base revealerf' of secrets, who did
not worthily support the part of the
married man, was lost in the rumble of
the train. —N ew York Tribune.

AMONG THé LEPERS.

Those of Molokai Have Many Ways of 0c-
cupylng Their Time.

Here" 1n this sea girt asylum of peo-
ple afflicted with the most dreaded 01
known diseases, from which there is m‘.
escape but through the portals of death,
is presented one of the noblest and
brightest pictures of the glory of Chris-
tianity, with its marvels of self sacri-
fice amid surroundings and under cir-
cumstances the most depressing. These
poor victims, doomed to the ravages of
a disease that completes its deadly work
in an average of four or five years, the
progress of which is marked with the
most significant and destructive preci-
sion, can alone appreciate at its true
worth the Christian heroism of those
who are laboring among them, follow-
ing in the footsteps of the venerated
Father Damien, and ready as he was
to accept, if need be, the burden of the
disease itself in their behalf. And yet
unhappiness does not chill the air of
Molokai. Death has lost its terror by
reason of its very familiarity, and by
the silver lining their faith has given
the cloud. The Hawaiians are naturally.
a light hearted people, and even the
shadow of leprosy cannot suppress for
long their buoyant temperament.

In Molokai lepers may be found en-
gaged in pleasant pastimes, and among
them one may hear the light and cheer-
ful words of greeting and see the sunny
smiles. Horse racing, which is a favor-'
ite national sport, is indulged in fre-
quently. Nor are the lepers idlers;fa1
from it.
cultivation of the ground and in other
ways, and altogether lead a far pleas-
anter and more contented life than
might be supposed. The ,‘improvement
of their condition, as compared with
what it was when Father Damien took
up his residence on the island in 1873,
has been chiefly brought about by his
influence and the ’labors of This succes-
sors. ——Donahoe’s Magazine.

 

President Polk’e Nashville Home.

The old Polk place on Vine street, the[
home of President James K. Polk, andi
the scene of many brilliant gatherings 1n
former days, is viewed with interest by
many visitors to’ Nashville. Many ex--
pressions of regret are heard from those
who view the picturesque Polk .place for
the first time that the historic old home-
stead should have been allchd to fall

into such a state of dilapidation'. They)

think the old place should be maintain-
ed in good repair for the sol. e of the
memories that Surround it. It has been
suggested more than once that it would
make an ideal home for the official resi-
dence of Tennessee’ 3 governors. The
excuse that can be very properly offered
by Nashvillians for the "present condi-
tion of the Polk place is that they have
nothing to do with it, the property being
in litigation. It is feared that ultimate-I

ly, in the division of the property,’ the,
, Old place will be cut up i31to lots, and-
; if that is done the home of Polk will-
' become only a memory —Nashv111e

American.

2"; ,wSoda crackers 5 cents per pound 61
f 25 ‘t 't &.,.F '

 

They work, while able, in the .

 

 

 

 

 

llnly Eight-Page One. Cent

Paper ' in ~ Connecticut

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Noriwalk, South ‘Norwalk, East Nora-

walk, Westport, Saugatuck, New
Canaan, Darien. Rowayton
and Noroton.

N 0 other Paper in N orwalk compares with it for

Local and General News.

Its local news is bright,

reliable and well written.

After once reading The Evening Gazette you will

be convinced that it is the best evening paper

in Western Connecticut, and will take no other.

Having a special correspondent in each.» town, it is en-

abled to furnish the latest and. freshest news.

 

 

 

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b