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RALEIGH REGISTER,
NO. 33.
Second Floor of Fisher Building, Fayetteville
VOL. I.
RALEIGH, N. C, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1884.
Street, next to Market House.
y II hi uc ii ii ii ii ii ii ii II r ii ji
The Utility of Grambllng.
London Society.
Qramble, grumble, grumble on !
Old habits you easily can't lay by.
Nevertheless, old Farmer John,
I read the truth in your bright brown eye ;
Weather and markets have all gone wrong,
Year upon year you heaped complaint,
-Tour past produced but a doleful song.
Your faith In the future, alas ! is faint.
.
O Farmer John, you're a truthful type
Of the land you live In and love so much ;
Your smiles eannot make the crops grow ripe,
" Or send up the markets to such and such.
O serious, serious Fanner John !
'Tis that old, deep feeling of discontent
That through plenty and famine has moved us
on
For grumbling brings good government.
. BEHIND THE TAPESTRY.
Cassell's Magazine.
The first part of the strange story which
I am about to tell happened some ten
years ago.
Ten years ago I was in the first sorrow
of my widowhood. I was childless, too ;
and when the grave closed over my hus
band I thought that there was no place
left for me in the world.
I was rich, young : and my friends, and
my own reflections in the glass, told me
that I was beautiful..
Of course I had many acquaintances;
what rich young widow has not? But
acquaintances and friends differ widely.
I did not care for the people who flattered
and made muchof me, but I turned, even
in the first days of my . trouble, to one
friend.
She, too, was young and beautiful. We
were schoolfellows ; we were engaged at
the same time: we were married in the
same month of the same year.
During the three years of my married
life wc had Been little of each other, but
when my husband died, and Mary Clifford
wrote to me tenderly out of her full heart,
I answered back her love.
She asked me to stay with her, and I
went.
How peaceful were those days spent in
her beautiful home ! The house and place
were called Aspen's Vale. The house was
many centuries old. Its architecture was
remarkable; its rooms curious. It was a
rambling old place, and of course it had
n ghost. It stood in the midst of very
lovely grounds, overlooking wood and
river. Altogether, it was one of the show
places in shire.
I stayed with the Cliffords for a couple
of months. During that time the house
was quiet, visitors few they eschewed
here alone, and I'll stay with you with
pleasure if it comes to that, though my
nerves aren't none of the strongest. "
I thanked Warden, however, and as
sured her that I was not in the least afraid ;
and she, with a well-relieved face, left me
alone. I heard her footsteps echoing
down the corridor they died away. I
was now out of reach of all human help,
for in this distant room, in this distant
wing, no possible sounds could reach any
other inhabitants of Aspen's Vale.
I think I have implied that I was brave.
In my girlhood, in my short married life,
even in the 6ad depression of my early
widowhood, I have never known physical
fear ; nevertheless, when the. last of War
den's footsteps echoed out and died, and
that profound stillness followed which
can be oppressive, I had a curious sensa
tion. I did not call it fear, I did not know it
for that grim and pale-faced tyrant ; but
it made me uncomfortable, and caused my
heart to beat irregularly.
The "sensation was this I felt that I was
not alone,
' Of course it was fancy; and what had I
to do with fancy?
I determined to banish this uncomfort
able feeling from my mind, and stirring
the fire to a cheerful blaze, I drew one of
the black oak chairs near it and sat down.
Warden had looked so pale and fright
ened before she left me, that out of consid
eration for her feelings I had allowed her
to leave the jewels which I had worn that
evening on the dressing table;
There thev lay, a set of very valuable
brilliants.. There was an old-fashioned
company for my sake.
At the end of two months I left them,
comforted and helped, and with many
promises of a return by-amd-by.
Circumstances, however, too varied and
too many to mention, prevented that sec
ond visit taking place for a couple of years.
At the end of that time a great longing
came over me to see Mary Clifford again.
I must write to her, and promise a visit.
I did so.
By return Of post I got a short, but
characteristic reply :
Dearest Honor : Of course I- long to
see your but unfortunately the house is
fall. Large as it is. it is crammed from
cellar to attic.
My dear, I don't want to refuse you. I
do loDg to see you. Will you sleep in the
Tapestry room? for of course it is empty.
I dare not put anybody .else there, but I
don't think you. Honor, will be afraid of
the ghost. If the Tapestry room will do,
come, and a thousand welcomes. I can
put up your maid. Yourjoving friend,
Mary Clifford.
To this letter I made a short answer:
I do not believe in the ghost. The
Tanestrv room will do beautifully. Ex-
pect me to-morrow.
The next evening I arrived at Aspen's
Vale in time for dinner. The Tapestry
room looked charming. I fell in love with
it on the spot, and vowed laughingly that
the ghost and I would make friends
My maid, however, looked grave over
my jesting remarks; it was plajn that she
believed in supernatural visitations.
G-avetv of heart, however, was over me
1 could not resist the cheerful influence of
rav old friend's company. I felt happier
than I had done since my husband s death,
and after a very delightful evening, retired
to my room, ieeling brave enough to en
counter any number of ghosts that might
choose to visit me.
The Tapestry room was quite away from
the rest of the" house it was at the ex
treme end of the wing. No other bed
rooms were in the wing. There were a
smoking-room, a morning-room, and a
little oriel chamber, which Mrs. Clifford in
her early married-life had curiously fitted
up for herself, but now' seldom occupied.
Neither did she believe in the ghost, but
she confessed that this little oriel chamber
had an eerie feci.
The morning-room opposite, cheerful
and pretty enough, was unused. Its fur
niture was antique, it belonged to a by
gone day, and its inhabitants were dead.
The smoking-room also was deserted ; even
the fumes of tobacco had left it, the squire
preferring a more central apartment in the
modern part of the house.
Altogether, this wing qf the old house
seemed dead. Visitors only came to it
out of curiosity ; they paid brief visits, and
preferred doing so in broad daylight.
It must have been quite it hundred years
since the Tapestry room in the far end of
this wing had been slept in. Old as the
other rooms in the wing looked, the Ta
pestry room bore quite the palmpf ancient
appearance. There was not an article of
furniture in it, not a chair, not a table,
which must not have seen the light of centuries.
The furniture was all of the blackest
oak ; the bedstead the usual four-poster on
w hich our ancestors loved to stretch them
selves. But the curious feature of the
room, that which gave it its name, was
Mhe tapestry. Not an inch of the waljs
' "" wus to be seen; they were hung complete
ly with very ancient and very faded tapes
try. There was a story about this tapes
s try. One Dame Clifford, of long, long
bv-gonc days, had worked it, with the
lil lp of her maidens. She had come to an
untimely end on the very day on which
the great work of her life had been com-
It does not -matter to this story what
became of the proud and fair dame, but it
was her ghost which was said to haunt the
wing, and the Tapestry chamber in par
ticular. Warden, my maid, as she helped
me to undress, looked quite pale with
terror.
"They do say, ma'am, as Dame Clare
Clifford appears with her head tucked un
der her arm, and threads from the old
tapestry hanging from her skeleton fin
ders, she's dressed in gray silk, that don't
rustle, never a bit, though 'tis so thick it
might stand all alone, they do say. 'Tis
iiwful lonesome for you. madam, to sleep
mirror over the mantel-piece, and as I sat
by the fare 1 saw the reflection of my dia
monds in the glass. As I noticed their
sparkle, again that strange sensation re
turned; this time more strongly, this time
with a cold shiver. I was not alone.
Who was in the Tapestry chamber? Was
it the ghost? Was that story true, after
all? Of course I did not believe it. I
laughed aloud as the idea came to me. I
felt that I was getting quite silly and ner
vous. There was nothing for me but to
get into bed as quickly as possible.
I was about to rise from my easy-chair
and go over to the old-fashioned four
poster when again my attention was at
tracted to the glass over my head. It was
hung in such a way as to reveal a large
portion t the room, and I now saw, not
the diamonds, but something else.
In the folds of the dim and old-world
tapestry I saw something move and glitter.
I looked again ; there was no mistaking it
it was an eye, a human eye, looking fix
edly at me through a hole in the canvas, i
Now I knew why I felt that I was' not
alone, -j
There. was one hidden between the ta
pestry hangings and the wall of the cham
ber. Home tne not a ghost. 1 hat eye
was human, or I had never looked on hu
man eye before. I was alone with a thief,
perhaps with worse, and gems of immense
valuejlay within his reach. I was abso
lutely alone, not a soul could hear the
most agonized cry for help in this distant
room.
Now I knew if I had ever doubted it
that I was a very brave woman.
The imminence of the peril steadied the
nerves which a few minutes before were
beginning strangely, to quiver. I never
started nor exclaimed. I felt that I had
in no way betrayed my knowledge to my
terrible guest. I sat perfectly still, think
ing out the situation and my chances of
escape.
Nothing but consummate coolness could
win the victory. I resolved to be very
cool. With a fervent and passionate cry
to One above for succor, I rose from my
chair, and going to the dressing-table, I
slipped several costly rings off my fingers.
I left, them scattered carelessly about. I
denuded myself of all but my wedding-
ring.
Then I put the extinguishers on the can
dles they were wax, and stood in massive
silver candlesticks.
The room, however, was still brilliant
with the light of the fire on the hearth.
1 got' into bed, laid my head on the pil
low, and closed my eyes.
It may have been ten minutes it seemed
more like an hour to my strained senses
lie fore I heard the faintest movement
Then I discovered a little rustle behind the
tapestry, and a man got out. When he
did so I opened my eyes wide ; at that dis
tance he could not possibly see whether
they were open or shut. He was a power
ful man of great height and breadth. He
had a black beard, and a quantity of thick
black hair. I noticed his features which
were tolerably regular. ',
I also noticed-another peculiarity : among
his raven locks was one perfectly white.
One rather thick white lock was flung
back off his forehead so white was it that
the fire instantly revealed it to me.
The man did not glance toward the bed,
he went straight, with no particularly
quiet step, to the dressing-table- I closed
my eyes now, but I heard him taking up
my trinkets and dropping them again.
Then he approached the bed-side. I felt
him come close, I felt his breath as he
bent over me. I was lying on my side,
my eyes were shut, I was breathing gently.
He went away again ; he returned to the
dressing-table. I heard him rather noisily
strike a match, then with a lighted candle
in his hand he once more approached the
bed. This time he bent very low indeed,
and I felt the heat of the flame as he passed
it before my closed eyes. I lay still, how
ever ; not a movement, not a hurried breath,
betrayed mc.
I heard him give a snort satisnea sign.
Again, candle in hand, he returned to thel
dressing-table. Once more I heard the
clinking sound of my trinkets as they fell
through his fingers.
There was a pause, and then for no
reason that I could ever explain he left
the trinkets untouched on the table, and
went to the door.
He opened the'door and went out. I
did not know what he went for perhaps
to fetch a companion, certainly to return
but I did know that my opportunity had
came.
In an instant, quicker than thougm, i
I knew that I was only protected for a
few minutes, that even if the thief was
alone he had but to continue to assail the
door as vigorously as he was now doing
for a little longer, to gain a fresh entrance
into my chamber.
I rushed to the window, I threw up the
sash, and bent half out. Into the clear
calm air of the night I sent my strong
young voice.
"Help, help ! thieves ! fire ! danger !
help, help!1'
I shouted these words over and over,
but there was no response except an echo.
My room looked into a distant shrubbery ;
the hour was late, the whole household
was in bed.
The thief outside was evidently making
way with the rusty hinges, and I was pre
paring, at the risk of any consequences,
the moment he entered the room, to leap
from the window, when I heard a dog
bark.
I redoubled my cries. The bark of the
dog was followed by footsteps ; they came
nearer, treading down fallen branches,
which crackled under the welcome steps.
The next instant a man came and stood
under the window and looked up at me. '
I perceived by his dress that he was a vil
lager, probably taking a short cut to his
house. He stood under the window ; he
seemed terrified ; perhaps he took me for
the ghost. He was not, however, all a
coward, for he spoke.
"What is wrong?" he said.
"This is wrong," I answered; "I am in
extreme danger extreme danger. There is
not a moment to lose. Go instantly in
stantly, and wake up the house, ana say
that I, Mrs. Crawford, am in extreme dan
ger in the Tapestry, wing. Go at once
at once I"
I spoke distinctly and the man seemed
to understand.i He flew away, the dog
following him.
I instantly threw myself on my knees,
and in the terrible moments that followed
I prayed as I' had never prayed before.
Would the man be in time? Must my
young life be sacrificed?
Ah! no. God was good. I heard joy
ful sounds ; the thief's attacks on the door
ceased suddenly, and the next instant the
squire's hearty voice was heard.
"Let me in, HonorS What is wrong,
child?"
I did let him in, and his wife, and sev
eral alarmed-looking servants who follow
ed after.
We instantly began to look for the thief,
but mystery of mysteries he had disap
peared. That terrible man with the black hair
and white lock over his forehead had van
ished as completely as though he had
never been.
Except for the marks he had made with
his feet on the old oak door, there was not
a trace of his existence.
I believe the swvants doubted that he
had ever been, and only thought that the
young lady who was foolish enough to
sleep in the Tapestry chamber had been
visited by a new form of the ghost. Be
that as it may, we never got a clew to
where or how the man had vanished.
WOMEN FOLK.
FAMOUS AMERICAN BEAUTIES.
Had Ending of Two Brilliant Career.
Ten years later I was again on a visit at
Aspen's Vale. This time I did not sleep
in the Tapestry room.
I now occupied a most cheerful modern
and unghost-like room, and but for one
circumstance my visit would have been
thoroughly unremarkable.
This was the circumstance which seems
in a vvonderful way to point a moral to my
curious tale. I paid my visit to the Clif
fords during the-Assizes. ' Squire Clifford,
as one of the most influential county mag
nates, was necessarily much occupied"with
his magisterial duties during this time.
Every morning he went early into Lewis,
the town where the Assizes were held.
One morning he told us of a .case which
interested him.
"He is a hardened villain," he said
" he has again and again been brought be
fore me, but has never yet been convicted.
He is unquestionably a thief; indeed, one
of the notorious characters in the place;
but he is such a' slippery dog, no jury has
yet found him guilty. Well, he is to be
tried again to-day, and I do hope wehall
have some luck with him this time.'
The squire went away, and it came in
to his wife's head and mine to pay a visit
to the court, and see for ourselves the pris
oner in whom he was interested.
No sooner said than done.' We drove
into Lewis, and presently found ourselves
in the large and crowded building. When
we entered, the case under discussion had
not begun, but a moment after a fresh
prisoner was ushered into the dock.
What was the matter with me? I found
my sight growing dim, I found myself
bending forward and peering hard. The
memory of an old terror came back, the
sensation of a couple of hours of mortal
agony returned to me again. Who was in
the prisoner's dock? I knew the man. He
was my guest of the Tapestry chamber of
ten years ago.
There he stood, surly, indifferent, with
his vast breadth and height, his raven
black hair, and that peculiar white lock
flung back from his brow. He did not
glance at any one, but kept his eyes on the
ground.
I could not contain myself; I forgot ev
erything but my sense of discovery. I
started to my feet, and spoke.
"Mr. Clifford, I know that man; he was
in my room ten years ago. Do you remem
ber the night when I got the terrible
fright in the Tapestry chamber in your
f house? There is the man who frightened
me. I could never forget his face. There
he stands."
Whatever effect my words had on the
squire and the judge, there is no doubt at
all of their remarkable significance to
the prisoner. His indifference left him ; he
stared with wide open and terrified eyes at
me. It was plain that if 1 recognized him,
he also recognized me. .
All his bravado left him; he muttered
something; his face was blanched; then
suddenly he fell on his knees and covered
it with his hands.
Mv evidence was remarkable and con
elusive; and that day, for the first time.
. " . . . . t elusive: uiiu iuai.ua
had starteaj rom nry 1 1 Hercules Armstrong was committed to
Was at the door. I had bolted and locked T - A , thfi lprror of
I - .
it. There were several Doits to mis oiu
fashioned door, there were even chains.
I drew every bolt, I -made every rusty I
chain secure. I was not an instant too
soon. I had scarcely fastened the last
chain, with fingers that trembled, before
the thief returned.
He saw that he had been,outwitted, and
his savage answer knew no bounds. He
kicked at the door, he clilled on me wildly
to open it ; he assured me that he had ac
complices outside, that they would soon
burst the old door from its hinges, and my
life would be the forfeit.
- To my terror, I perceived that his words
were no idle boast. The old door, secured
by its many fastenipgs on the one side,
was weak on .the other; its hinges were
nearly eaten through with rust ; they need
ed but some vigorous kicks to burst them
from their resting-places in the wood.
the neighborhood, and no one regretted
the iust punishment which had fallen on
him. What his subsequent career may be
I know not; this is the present end of a
strange and perfectly true story.
fNew York World.
A strange fatality seems always to have
attended beautiful women from the time
of Helen of Troy down to the present hour.
Cleopatra, after having triumphed over
both Julius Cajsar and Mark Antony,
sought relief in suicide. Everybody knows
the sad story of Petrarch and Laura, of
Abelard and Heloise and of Beatrice Cenci.
The truthfulness as well as the pathos of
this idea is wonderfully wrought out and
fixed forever in Shakspearc's "Romeo and
Juliet." There seems to be a sort of pen
alty for Jeing surpassingly beautiful.
Very few women who have become famous
because of their beauty, have lived to a
mature age of reasonable contentment and
happiness. Probably the most beautiful
woman known in this country during re
cent years was Mattie Ould, of Virginia.
She was not only a girl f transcendant
beauty of face, but of wondrously brilliant
intellect. Her father, Robert Ould, was
famous during the war as the Commission
er for the Exchange of Prisoners on the
part of the Confederate Government.
When a young man he was District. At
torney for the District of Columbia, and
lived in Washington. He' was a lawyer of
much dignity and ability, but the latter
part of his life was clouded by the defeat
of the Confederacy and the unhappy end
ing of his daughter's life. She was the
person more than any other who gave
White Sulphur Springs, in Virginia, great
fame as a watering-place. Sometimes
fashion resort owes its success to the nat-
tronage of a single person. It was large
ly if not entirely so in this instance.
Mattie Ould was the bright and shining
leader of a coterie of young girls that grew
up in Richmond just after the war. They
were the last and the most famous repre
sentatives of a society of Virginia and the
South that now seems to be well nigh ex
tinct. They were at White Sulphur dur
ing the summers of :' 1872-73 and there
about. No such assemblages have since
been seen there nor will any like them be
ever seen there or"elsewhere again. It was
the last brilliant glow of Southern chival
ry a something that has now passed into
the realms of memory and of worth mainly
as a foundation upon which romancers of
the future may build. For three or four
seasons White Sulphur was the rallying
place for that limited number of Southern
gentlemen and ladies whose fortunes had
not been altogether swept away by the
war. Most of the men had been distin
guished officers in the Confederate army,
such as General Butler, General Gary and
General Hampton, of South Carolina;
General Joe Johnston, of Virginia ; General
Gordon, of Georgia ; General Beauregard,
of Louisiana, and dozens of commanders
of lesser renown. Most of them were yet
in the vigor of manhood and had about
them the fresh fame that had come from
their achievements on the battle-field.
The old South had not vet entirely faded
away. Many of the opinions and preju
dices held before the war were still enter
tained ; the heroism of Jackson, Lee and
hundreds of others was a theme of exhaust
less congratulation ; battles were fought
anew and victories were won afresh. In
this charmed circle, almost closed to peo
ple of the North, Mattie Ould was the ac
knowledged (jueen. She was the belle of
every great ball given at White Sulphur
for two or three seasons. And she justly
earned the distinction given her. Of all
the brilliantly beautiful women of the
sunny South none have been her. equal.
Her company was sought by every distin
guished soldier and statesman. Her pres
ence was like a magic charm to every as
semblage. In voice, look, gesture, move
ment, everything, she was superlatively
attractive. She was the realization to
every man of all that he had ever in the
wildest stretches of his imagination pic
tured a beautiful woman to be. Hair that
fell about her head and face and neck and
shoulders like a golden cloud ; eyes that
were great and luminous and appealing,
that subdued every beholder; such eyes
under such a wqalth of hair; such cheeks
of rose tint, full and round; a neck of per
fect poise, graceful as the swan's and white
and soft as the swan's-down ; a bosom that
rose and fell like the bosom of the sea.
and a mouth that could but give some
sweet utterance to charm ever- listener.
Whether in the ballroom, at dinner, or in
a. simple social gathering of a few close
friends, she was the same unspeakably de
lightful creature, too unearthly to be
touched by human hands, and too valua
ble a prize for any one man, whether he
be the conqueror of a hundred battlefields
or statesman full of honors. All these
came to her and bowed themselves at her
feet. No woman was ever more complete
ly the master of men, and many a one
lives to-day to testify to the sharpness of
his grief at her refusal of his addresses.
But a shadow comes suddenly and shuts
out forever all view of this lovely girl.
The sad story of her departure from her
paternal roof, hasty marriage and untime
ly death will probably never be told in
full-and probably ought not to be. Her
own mother had died when she was a
child and just as she was coming to girl
hood her father married a second time,
and between her and her step-mother there
arose an irreconcilable feud, which em
broiled even the father, and at a moment
when she was piqued and humiliated at
some cruel word where there ought to
have been expressed a kindlier sentiment,
she left her home forever and consented
to a marriage more through a feeling of
revenge than the prompting of her own
heart and judgment. She made the fatal
mistake of marrying a man she did not
love, and from the day she. went to live
under his roof her spirit was broken, and
she wilted away like a flower plucked by
rude hands. In two years she had died
still unreconciled to her father, and it was
not long till he had followed her, his heart
having been completely crushed by the
death of his beautiful daughter. In this
tragedy there were no swords or pistols,
nor was there poison, except that poison
that comes from bitter words unjustly
spoken and from a pledge of lovo where
ho love existed.
regarded as a beautiful girl, but it was
not until 1876 and 1877 that she became
famous throughout the country.- She, like
Mattie Ould, achieved her great triumph
at White Sulphur Springs, in Virginia,
but it was when that summer resort had
lost something of the emphatic Southern
flavor that characterized it three or four
years before. Northern people had begun
to come and Southern people did not
flock there with the same unanimity. It
was while spending a summer, at White
Sulphur and Saratoga that the report orig
inated that Nellie Hazeltine and Mr. Sam
uel J. Tilden were engaged to be married.
While there never was even a thread of
truth upon which to found that report, it
served to make her more celebratedthan
she otherwise would have been. It fol
lowed her to her grave and clings to her
memory. Nellie Hazeltine and Mattie
Ould were both Southern types of beauty
but were very different in appearance,
manner and disposition. The former was
not so loveablc a girl as the latter; that is
she was not so attractive to men. Mattie
Ould was free, spontaneous, overwhelm
ing. She had a flow of spirits, of wit, of
bright speech that bore down everything
and captured every listener. Not that
alone, but her beauty was of the voluptu
ous kind, not coarse in the least degree,
but insinuating,,and everlasting a beauty
that flashes out like the warm, full-faced,
over-mastering sun from behind a cloud.
Nellie Hazeltine had a more faultless face,
judged by the classic standard. There
was not about it a bint of sensuousness,
For an immortal type, she would, of the
two, have been chosen by one competent
to judge. Her head and face and shoul
ders were of perfect mould according to
the rules of the Greek sculptors. There
were moments "when she looked as though
she had just been chiselled out of the mar
ble by the hand of Praxitiles, putting out
of mind the delicate pink of her cheeks
and the wealth of brown hair that covered
her head. Qpt she was a brilliant con
vcrsationalist. While she was more re
served in her manner and less witty than
Mattie Quid, she was as thoroughly at ease
and hac in almost as great a degree, the
ability to entertain a number of people at
the same time. She was in every gather
ing the centre of a circle. There was an
irresistible charm about her presence that
instinctively drew others to her, and while
she never had as many earnest suitors as
Mattie Ould, she probably had as many
admirers. But her life, too, was to go out
in disappointment. Her father failed in
business and she was suddenly left without
the means to maintain her position in so
ciety. She became involved in a scandal
about the same time, which, on account of
her wide reputation, gained circulation in
all the papers of the country. The fact
that her innocence was clearly established
to those who knew her and knew the facts
of the affair did not wholly remove the im
pression that had been created, and to es
cape the disagreeable consequences of it
she married a young man greatly her in
ferior but believed at the time to be the
heir to a large fortune. Two years had
hardly passed till his father's money was
lost in a railroad venture, and soon her
death followed. The memory of it is yet
fresh in the minds of many people, for it
occurred only last winter. Thus faded
out the life of one of the extraordinary
women of America, not distinguished alone
because she was beautiful, but because of
a bright intellect as well. The disappoint
ment and secret sorrow of both these
famous women are never to be spoken or
written, and those who knew them will
hold forever a saddened but precious
memory of them. The funeral of the one
brought tears to the eyes of thousands
when they heard the sweet strains of
"Under the Daisies" a song she used to
sing go up from the organ in Grace
Church, and the grave of the other in
beautiful iJeilefontaine at St. Louis was
filled to overflowing with flowers thrown
in by the young ladies of that city who
had known and loved her when in the
prime and beauty of her womanhood.
Both died before they reached the age of
twenty-five. J. R. R
.THE FASHIONS
AS FIXED BY PARIS FOR THE NEW
YORKERS
And by New York for na Country Folk.
The Harvest of 1884.
fNew York Herald.
The critical period with the crops, when
untimely frosts may spoil the fairest pros
pects, has almost, if not altogether, passed,
and the harvests over by far the larger por
tion of the country are now largely secure.
The aggregate yield of the cereal crops in
the Lnited States will probably be excep
tionally good, both as to quality and quan
tity. The Department of Agriculture re
port the corn crop as in better condition
than in any September since 1880, the gen
eral average being 94, against 84 last Sep
tember. 83 in 1882 and 60 in 1881. The
estimate made for this year's yield is $1,
800,000,000 bushels. These nguies may
be found too high when the returns are all
in, but if realized the forthcoming crop
will be the largest ever reported in the
history of the country. So far this fall
no serious and general frosts have occurred
and no such frosts are now reported as lm
minent. The long drought in the States
east of the Mississippi and the Southwest
may have more seriously affected the
growth than is now apprehended. But
this week's rainfall has considerably re
lieved the drought in many localities. The
official returns put the wheat harvest of
1884 at about 500,000.000 bushels, the
general average of condition being 98
against 83 last year. The wheat estimates
though highly satisfactory, are not rela
tivcly as high as those for Indian corn
They are also subject to revision when
fuller reports are received. But the prob
ability is that they are not far from cor
rect. The cotton crop, though backward,
suffering from the effects of drought and
likely to be below the average yields is in
better condition than it was last Septem
ber, while the condition of tobacco is re
ported higher than in any September si njee
1877. i-
Kngllah Humor.
He had bis Candidate.
"Mr. Brown," said a little Brooklyn boy
to a visitor the other night, " who are you
going to vote for for Mayor next election?"
"I don't know yet," replied Mr. Brown,
"the candidates haven't been nominated."
WWell," said the boy-, "pa's got it all
fixed who he's going to vote for."
"Who is it?"
" Well, he said to-day he'd bet he'd vote
for ma, 'cause what she .didn't know about
home nil wasn't worth worrying about."
A woman who belonged to time still
more recent than that of Mattie Ould and
who had almost as great fame for her
beauty, was Nellie Hazeltine, of St. Louis.
She, too, belonged to the society of the
South, but not of that kind so distinctive
and pronounced as that of which Mattie
Ould was so captivating a representative.
St. Louis is in the matter of its social com
plexion a Southern city. Slaves were
owned there before the war -and the lead
ing people there came -originally from
Virginia and Kentucky. Nellie Hajeltine
was the daughter of a once well-to-do
leather merchant of St. Louis, who had a
large and handsome residence in a fashion
able part of the city. His daughter was
iriven a good education and was always
O CI
London Letter.
The delicacy of English wit is something
that the American mind fails to appreci
ate. An English weekly offered a prize
of 1 for the cleverest original anecdote
that should be sent it, and the following
secured the money: "I was out at a small
dinner-party one evening recently. A boy,
evidently from the green-grocer's shop,
had been engaged to do the waiting.
When he placed two disheffof tarts before
the hostess, she probably thinking it not
correct to know what was coming asked
'What are these, James?' Whereupon the
boy, pointing first to one dish and then to
the other, replied : 1 Them's a penny each,
and them's two for throe half -pence."'
"Taking into account the one hundred
thousand dollar bonds you; sold to Tom
Scott our relative positions fi
nancially in the Little Rock and Fort
Smith Railroad bear a wide contrast."
FUherto Blaine, November 10, 1871.
New York Evening Post.J
White bonnets .trimmed with white
plumage will form the dressy bonnet par
excellence the coming winter.
Charming gowns for brides have trained
skirts trimmed witt flounces of white-embroidered
silk, intermingled with rose and
shell pleatings of white brocade edged
with real Valenciennes lace.
English brides wear pointed Chinese
shoes of white satin, with the insteps cov
ered with a fine rich embroidery in raised
chenille work outlined with pearls.
A lovely evening toilet for a young lady
is made of white satin foulard brocaded
with pink blossoms. The dress is cut in
-plain princesse style, open at the back.
The lower portion of the skirt in front is
then slashed at equal distances, and heav
ily lined. The skirt then forms regular
panels, with one directly in front. Be
tween each panel is then set a fan-pleating
of pale pink satin, matched to the shade
of the blossoms of the brocade. There is
a full draping of the foulard in the back,
and the bodice portion is cut with a V-front.
The newest pelerines reach quite to the
waistline in the back, and terminate in
medium-length tabs in front.
An immense importation of figured
stuffs are shown, designed both for cos
tumes and wraps, among which are beige
arid 6cru-grounded cloths of finest quality
mfrappe or cisele effects, being sprinkled
with brilliantly shaded blossoms, these
slightly raised and formed of velvet
plush, or chenille. Some of the designs
of the most expensive patterns are quite
novel, and show very artistic shadings of
one single color.
Dressmakers are improving upon the
simple "housemaid's dress" worn so much
the past season in light summer fabrics.
The plain skirts hang far better than
they did at first, and a change in the shape
of the crinoline worn in conjunction ma
terially assists the modiste in making such
improvement. Wide crossway bands of
velvet, set on near the edge of the skirt,
with pointed bodice similarly outlined,
and cuffs to match, give a more substan
tial air to this make of gowns, which, af
ter all, is only suitable for young girls or
youthful married ladies : and this conced
ed, a certain grace of carriage and sym
metry of figure are even then essential to
enable the wearer of "housemaid gowns"
to do so with elegance.
Mohair and alpaca are once more used
for school dresses, these made with a
tucked and kilted skirt and blouse or Jer
sey bodice. Mother Hubbards are also
popular again this season, and a pretty
model was made of red and golden brown
crossed with hair-lines of pale blue.
Wool fabrics are so rich and beautiful,
both in fabric and coloring, thi3 fall, that
they predominate in the richest walking
costumes, and are frequently combined
with silk, velvet, or plush. Dark colors
prevail, and the leading colors are deep
royal blue, the wine and currant shades,
and green in many shades and tones. In
monochrome costumes golden brown is a
prominent selection of color.
JNone ot the newiy-made iur snouiaer-
capes appear with raised shoulders; not
the "slightest putt or elevation is percepti
ble ; but since many persons are in posses
sion of costly capes purchased last year,
all of which present the condemned fea
ture, raised shoulders will not be consid
ered old style for the present. The shape
of the wrap in other respects is unaltered ;
if any change, they are a trine longer.
Among the modes indicated as likely to
suit the popular taste are the demi-long
redingote and the Moliere habit, either of
which is to be worn over skirts devoid of
drapery. The redingoto may have the
skirts attached across the hips after the
manner of the still popular Newmarket
coat, but it reaches quite to the knees of
the wearer, and is cut so full below the
waist that pleats arc laid under the seams
at the back of the skirt, from the spring
of the waist downward.
The Moliere habit is a modification of
the Louis XVI. coat, the jacket proper
cut to descend well over the hips, fitted
snugly at the back and under the arms,
and having loose fronts, devoid of darts,
opening over a vest that is half-tight' and
which falls from six to eight inches below
the jacket. Very often this vest is finely
satouched, while the overjacket is of plain
cloth, with cuffs and collar only, finished
with the ornamentation. For driving, an
English house in Paris sends over a hand
some coat in Newmarket style, cut double
breasted, close-fitting in the back, and
made of dark blue cloth delicately barred
with hair-lines of Neapolitan red.
Among a number of superb costumes
designed for a prospective bride in this
city, is an exquisite dress of Watteau bro
cade in pale blue and silver, which cer
tainly looks like a reminiscenced Arca
dia. The short and quite full underdress
of pale blue satin is made plain, excepting
a shell-pleated frill of silver lace at the
foot of the skirt. Above this is a pannier
tunic of pale blue satin brocaded with
small silver roses and lilies-of-the-valley,
also in silver. This overdress is looped in
true shepherdess fashion, the drapings
caught up with knots of the brocade run
through with silver shepherd-crooks set
with Rhine pebbles. The sharply pointed
bodice laces up the baek, the front is cut
square in the neck and edged with silver
lace with blonde pleated in beneath. The
Watteau sleeves are likewise adorned. An
other lovely costume of palest green satin
brocaded tulle the designs outlined with
tiny gold and silver shells is worthy of a
Naiad.
The newest waistcoats are considerably
longer than those worn for two seasons
past, and are made after the French Guard
style with pockets several inches below the
waist on each side, covered with very wide
flaps richly decorated with embroidery
passementeries, appliques in bead-work, or
braiding. Hall-vests oi ncn coiorea vei
vet satin or brocade, matching other gar
nitures on a costume, are of a broad, tri
angular shape, starting from the collar-
band, and filling in the opening of a basque
coat or cutaway-jacket, the jaunty Kus
sian jacket is having a large following
this autumn, this having no skirts in front,
and a postillion back, with the vest beneath
invariablv pleated, finishing at the belt
with a wide scarf laid in soft folds, and
drawn tightly around the waist, fastening
at the ends under a silver buckle. The
blouse vests and the Moliere waistcoats
have narrow ribbon or velvet tied across
the full drapings at the waist-line, ending
in many loops and ends which fall over
the tunic in front. Some of the pleated
Russian vests for young ladies' wear are
strapped across the front at intervals all
the way down, usually with velvet ribbon
run through gilt or silver buckles or slides.
Tucks upon the skirt, tunic, bodice, and
often unon the sleeves will be worn all
through the autumn season, with dresses
of silk and light woollen fabrics ; and la
ter on tucks, either narrow or wide, will
be seen in heavy flannel goods, ladies cloth
in flexible qualities, suitings, and thelike.
A lady recently had a black silk "made
over" in the following manner: She used
her old silk for a foundation skirt, the
dressmaker first sponging the silk in a
solutibn made of a pint of boiling rain
water, with an ounce each of camphor
gum and borax finely powdered sifted in,
and then let to cool. The silk was not
pressed with an iron at all, but was tight
drawn over a sort of long tunnel, made by
rolling up a heavy sheet of pasteboard.
The silk, after passing through this pro
cess, was pronounced as crisp and lustrous
as new. The brand new black silk the
lady purchased to finish the dress was
made jtrto three ruffles for the skirt with
five medium-sized tucks at the edge, and
below this a ruffle of Escurial lace, mak
ing a rich-looking finish to each flounce.
The tunic was trimmed in the same man-
The trim-fitting basque bodice had
ner.
five narrow tucks down each side of the
front, with a fall of Escurial lace around
the throat, and a double frill of the lace
below five narrow tucks at the wrists
The ; popular characteristics of French
millinery grow more and more exaggerat
ed. Many of the Parisian "novelties,"
sent over both in hats and bonnets,
have reached an altitude perfectly ridicu
lous. The front of one monstrosity meas
ured quite half a yard, and when on the
head was almost perpendicular. The new
est wrinkle in decoration is to arrange the
trimmings in pointed effects, produced by
twisting the ends of many silk handker
chiefs of various designs and colors into
points, or rather into the resemblance of
the Arunn lily. A recent writer on wo
man's dress says: "Women like something
bright, piquant, and conspicuous. It is
the feminine instinct to attract that lies at
the root of these perpetual changes of
fashion." Attract, in a sense, new French
millinery certainly will. It will attract
ridicule. There is not a single head-dress
of antiquity as seen in the historical pic
tures from the dress departments of the
past of any nation more ugly or absurd
than some of the new creations of to-day.
Fortunately there are exceptions. At South
Kensington Museum, England, is exhibited
a rail or horned-head covering, which has
been pronounced the height of absurdity,
folly, and ugliness. Placed side by side
with this latest triumph of "high" art,
the latter "inspiration" is certainly a
match for the "horned" variety, and, ex
hibited fifty years hence, would probably
create even greater derision.
A MOVING STORY OF A DOG.
BICYCLE.
THE INGENIOUS TA1CKEB FINDS
PLAGE Fvn SYKsKKinmnw
And Put Everything In its Plaee.
He Had a Rfave and Noble mind.
New York Tribune.
Clean, N. Y., September 22. The large
Newfoundland dog Heck, belonging to the
St. Elmo Hotel, in the neighboring oil
town of .Eldred, Pa., was known through
out the Northern oil field for its great
strength and intelligence. The porter of
the hotel, a small man, slept in a little
room back of the office. The dog slept
in the otface. On Ihursday night last the
porter was drunk when he went to bed,
and soon fell into a heavy sleep.
Some time in the night he was awakened
by the loud barking of Heck, who was
jumping frantically on the porter's bed
and seizing the pillow with his teeth. The
still drunken and drowsy porter tried to
make the dog
persisted in his efforts, and it finally
dawned upon the mind of the porter that
the house was on fire. His room was fuli
of smoke, and he could hear the crackling
of the flames. He sprang from bed, but
was still so drunk that he fell to the floor
The faithful dog at once seized him by the
coat collar, the poter not having removed
his clothing on going to bed, and dragged
him out of the room, and half way to the
outer door of the office, when the man
succeeded in getting to his feet, and, un
locking the door, staggered into the street.
The fire was rapidlv spreading over the
building and the hotel was filled with
guests, not one of whom had been aroused
The dog no sooner saw that his helpless
friend was safe than he dashed back into
the house, and ran barking loudly up
stairs. He first stopped at the door of his
master's room, where he howled and
scratched at the door until the inmate was
made aware of the danger, and hurried
out of the house, as there was no time to
lose. The dog gave the alarm at every
door, and in some instances conducted the
guests down stairs to the outer door, each
one of these, however, being a stranger in
the house, which fact the dog seemed to
understand in looking out for their safety
All about the house seemed to have lost
their heads in the excitement, and it is
said that the hotel dog alone preserved
complete control of himself, and alone
took active measures to save the inmates
of the house. In and out of the burning
building he kept continually dashing, pi
loting some half-dressed man or woman
down stairs, only to at once return in
search of others. Once a lady with a
child in her arms tripped on the stairs
while hurrying out, and fell to the bottom
The child was thrown on the floor of the
hall some distance awav. The woman re
gained her feet, and staggered in a dazed
way out ot tne aoor, leaving me cniia in
the midst of the smoke that was pouring
from the office door. The brave dog saw
the mishap, and, jumping in through the
smoke, which was now becoming almost
impassable, and seizing the child by its
night clothes, carried it safely out.
The mother of the child on being re
stored by the fresh air first became aware
that the child was not with her, and, cry
ing out wildly that "Anna was burning
up in the house!" made a dash for the
building as if to rush through the flames
to seek her child. neck nad aireaay
brought the little one out, but it had not
yet been restored to its mother, l ne aoj
saw the frantic rush of the mother towan
the burning building and heard her excla
mation that some one was burning up in
the house, and, although the building was
now a mass of smoke and flames inside
and out, the dog sprang forward and, as
a dozen hands seized the woman and held
her back from her insane attempt to enter
the house, disappeared with a bound over
the burning tnresnoia. j. ne iauniui ani
mal never appeared again.
A Queer Word.
From Every Other Saturday. J
This expression reminds us of a little
story related by Mr. Longfellow. A Paris
ian once remarked to him that there was
one American word that he never could
understand, or find in any dictionary.
"What is it?" inquired the poet. "That
eldo," was the reply. "I never heard of
the word," said Longellow. Presently a
servant came in to replenish the fire. Af
ter putting on a little fuel Longfellow re
marked to him. "That will do." "Ha!"
exclaimed the Frenchman, "that is the
very word which has troubled me."
awav, but the animal
New York Tlmes.J
There is a farmer in Vermont who has
invented a new motor that is destined to
accomplish results at leasf as vast as those
accomplished by the steam engine. The
new invention is a combination of the
small boy and the bicycle, and by its aid
an immense amount of work which has
hitherto been done by hand can henceforth
be done at. an enormous saving of time
and expense.
Last year Deacon tsmediey, tne iarmer
in question, entertained among his sum
mer boarders a young man with a bicycle.
The young man wore gray Knickerbockers
and red stockings, and as he generally fell
off his machine two or three times a day
in the village street he naturally attracted
a good deal of attention. It is needless to
say that Deacon Smedley's small boyaged
14took a great deal Of interest in the bi
cycle and felt that could he possess such a
wonderful machine life would have noth
ing more to offer him. The general ver
dict of the village, however, in regard to
bicycles was that they were ridiculous af
fairs, wholly unworthy of the attention of
an intelligent countryman, and several lo
cal citizens of much influence in the com
munity went so far as to say that bicycles
ought to be put down by the Selectmen,
by gosh!
Curiously enough, Deacon Smedley ap
proved of the bicycle, and openly said
that he wished he could afford to give one
to his small boy. This was the more re
markable since the Deacdn had never been
Tinown as a liberal man, and had .never
given his small boy anything except his
board and lodging. Not content with
wishing to give his small boy a bicycle,
the Deacon actually opened negotiations
with the bicyclist with a view to buying
his machine, and one day when the young
man was under the doctor's care in conse
quence of a severe contusion of the skull
.... .. . ir i
the Deacon extorted from tne Dicycust an
agreement to sell his bicycle at half price.
The next step taken by this admirable
father was to advise his son to hire out to
a neighboring farmer and so to earn money
enough to buy the bicycle. Deacon Smed
ley agreed to advance the purcnase money,
buy the machine, and hold it in trust un
til his small boy could repay him. Ar
rangements were soon made by which the
small boy was to "do chores" for Squire
Bartlett, and was to receive in the course
of the winter the aggregate sum of thirty
five dollars. This he was, to pay to his
father, who had agreed to purchase the bi
cycle for thirty dollars, thus giving the
Deacon a profit of only hve dollars on inc
transaction.
Spring came, and Deacon Smedley's
small boy paid his father thirty-five dollars
on the 1st day of May, and the two pro
ceeded to the barn, where possession of
the bicycle was to be formally given to
the small boy. The latter was somewhat
surprised when he saw the bicycle. It was
suspended from the rafters pi tne Darn ai
a height of about three yards from the
floor. The rubber tire of the driving
wheel had been removed, and a leather
belt had been placed around the wheel and
connected with the crank of a feed chop
ping machine. With the assistance of his
affectionate parent the small Doy cumDed
to the saddle and began to work the ped
als. The .revolution of the big driving
wheel set the feed chopping machine in
motion, and the Deacon immediately pro
ceeded to chop feed enough to last his live
stock for a week. The excellent oia man
found that he could chop twice as much
feed in a given time by bicycle power as
he could in the usual way, and that instead
of turning a crank all he had to do was to
feed the machine. Once or twice the ma
chine abruptly stopped in consequence of
the alleged weariness of the small boy s
legs, but the Deacon instantly stirred up
his offspring with a pitchfork, and pointed
out to him the folly of growing tired of a
bicycle within the first hour or two oi its
(possession.
Since that day tne Dicycie nas oeen in
coustant use, and the ingenious Deacon
has managed to utilize its power so as to
churn milk and pump water witn it. i ne
small boy does not seem 10 reiain nis orig
inal enthusiasm for the bicycle, and it is
suspected that he would prefer to ride it
through the streets rather than to put it
to a really beneficent use in the barn. For
tunately, the Deacon, though he was so in
dulgent as to buy his small boy a bicycle,
will not permit him to abuse the gift.
" No, my son," he is said to have remarked
"we won't have no such nonsense as
falling off bicycles in the street. You just
enjoy your machine in the barn where you
can't get hurt and can do some good ; and
I expect you to enjoy it three or four hours
a day or else you'll hear from me." The
small boy evidently obeys his parent, ano,
though he is growing rather thin, the"re is
no immediate danger that he will injure
his health by excessive indulgence in ath
letic sports.
The discovery that tne Dicycie can oe
used as a motor for driving machinery
opens a grand future to our bicyclists.
The thousands of melaneholy young men
who arc now aimlessly failing off bicycles
in the street, and earning-iiothing except
bruises, can hire themselves out to farmers
and make an easy and comfortable living.
It may be less exciting to ride a bicycle
suspended permanently from the rafters of
a barn than it would oe io nae wc same
machine over a smooth pavement, but it
is much safer and far more profitable. We
may expect soon to sec the day when near
ly all domestic machinery, including sew-
ing machines and orcnestnons, win do
driven by bicycle power, and young Amer
ican bicyclists, instead of squandering
their money on surgeons and arnica, will
lead lives of productive industry, . and
thus become useful and even happy men.
A Grateful Frog.
From Nature.
Last night I rescued a frog from the
claws of a cat, and to my great surprise it
turned, and, after gazing at me for a few
seconds jumped slightly toward me, natt-
ing after each leap ana gazing up into my
face. It thus gradually approached and
in about two or three minutes had actually
climbed upon one of my feet. Its mute
appeal for protection was most remarkable
and could not possibly be misunderstood.
, What la Called " a Lie Oat."
"I can do something, I feel very san
guine, with. Thomas A. Bcow.' mame io
Fuher, January 20, 1871.
"I never had any transaction oi any
kind with Thomas A. Scott concerning;
bonds of the Little Rock and Fort Smith
road or the bonds Of any other railroad or
any buisness in any way connected with
railroads, directly or indirectly, immedi
ately or remote." Blaine, in Hovuof Bep
remmtativet, April 24, 1878.