Sunday, November 16, 1890

Boston Daily Globe

Location: Boston, Massachusetts

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Boston Daily Globe (Newspaper) - November 16, 1890, Boston, Massachusetts A WAGER. [\7IlITTSaf FOR, THM SUNDAY OLOOTl.] , When a woman malceB hp her mind to Birtwith a man how fiir do you think her jonse of propriety will allow hor ,to go?" fislied my Iriond, Jolui Graham, as lie proceeded to roll another ciffarotto in his longr. tapering fingers. "Good heavens! how do yon ..suppose I tcnow?" I replied. "I sliould say It depond-. Bd entirely upon tlio woman in question." "But let UB .qay, for instance, the woman ire have been disoussiuB," ho returned. "Miss Gnmey?^' " "Yes." "�WoU, judging frorfiwhat I know of her, not very far," :i rpplied.  . "You would say, then, that Miss Gurney's' sense of what was fitting .would at l6.iat Bftuse her to stop this side of allowing a (uanto kiss lior-that is, if she were only limusins'herself with him,,aa you have Inoretlian hinted she is witli me." "Assuredly," I said; "far short of that!" "WpU, then," replied .my companion, Hftor a moment's silonoo, during which he , puifodthouglitfuUy at'his cigarette, "I will (vaffer.what you like, that the young-lady will favor me to that extent before the end of the season." "I'll talte you," I exclaimed, stung by the conceit and priggish assurance di the Bipeeoh; "What shall it be?" ' ; ; "Well, lot us say a dinner to the whole olubat Delmdnioo's," he suggested, after a moment's thought. ' "Done!" said I; and the bet was made. John' and; I had been sitting together upon 'the broad veranda of the splendid hotel which crowns the Palisades, chatting pleasantly, and watching the moonlight as It shimmered and played upon the beauti-tul river, winding far below ns. He had been expatiating upon the evi-lent predilection for his society shown by ), oertadn Miss Gurney, formerly stayinK at iho house-a vile habit, which he is, I think, far too prone to incfulgo-and, seeking to toko down his conceit, I had told him plainly that I thought the young lady, far from having any serious attachment for him, was only seeking to while away a pleasant summer at his expense. This had ruiHed his plumage considerably, and had led to tho foregoing conversation, ending, as it had, in our strange wager. Now, John is a good fellow. I wish this fact plainly understood-and my best friend In the world. His one fault, that I know of, is this notion of his which I have alluded to, that every young woman he meets is bound to fall dead in love -with him. at first Bight. I have no doubt that the women themselves have had, more or loss to dp with this, as there is no denying that John Is an exceptionally attractive young fellow, handsome and distinguished-looking, and with that free and independent way about him which, I have noticed, is always the prominent oharaotoristio of the successful lady-killer. The fair subject of our wager had been a gruest at the house, but was. now enjoying a short season at Saratoga, However, she was expected to return at almost any day, and I knew that John would have ample opportunity to test tho truth of his confi-deut assertion in the three weeks that still remained of tho waning summer. As for me, I felt the utmost confidence in tho ground upon which 1 stood. True, Miss Gurnev had shown considerable partiality for Graham's society j so marked a preference, in fact, that it had led to some facetious comments from the guests at the house. But there were reasons .why this had been so, perfectly simple and natural reasons. , John has a fairly good voice i not so good a one as he thinks it is, but yet of a sweet and flexible quality, and capable of giving a certain degree of enjoyment in a small room. On the other hand, nature had endowed Gertrude Gumey with a rich, deep contralto, which she had cultivated assiduously under the best masters, and which had already placed her in tho front rank of Now York's unprofessional vocalists. Having disoovorod this similarity of tastes, it was but natural that they should have been thrown mote or- less intimately together, and that the young lady should have developed an easy goodfellowship towards him, which his conceit had led him to mlstalco for something more. Perhaps she had even flirted a little with him. Most girls did, sooner or later in their intercourse with John^'and she may have been no exception to the rule. � But there it had stopped, I thought; and, judging from the impressions I had formed cf Miss Gm-noy's character, there it would Stop in future, I felt certain. That the stately beauty would ever forget herself to the extent of allowing a man. Who was not engaged to her, to salute her patnoian lips, was to me a moat absm'd proposition; and, as I watched my companion leaning baclc in his steamer chair, a emile of perf act assurance upon his handsome face, I told myself that one of the rudest awakenings of the young gentleman's whole career was in store for hnn. Miss Gurney rewmied to the house the next day. John and I had been off up the river in his yaolit, and when wo got back, along towards 5 o'clock in tho afternoon, wo lound. her on the steps awaiting us. John's meeting with her was cordial, to say the least. There was about it, too, an air of froprietorship which to me, knowing what did, was Balling in the extreme. That night after dinner there was music in the little musio-room, off the parlor. John and Miss Qm'ney sang, and afterwards they both sang together. Then a severely classical young lady from Boston played, in a severely ciaaaioal manner on tho piano, while we all sat about the oom and-talked. Whether we � talked to Irown tho sound of tho playing, or the younff ady played to di'own the noise of the' taUi-ngi I oould not exactly niolco out. At last we followed what I have noticed to be tho prevailinR: custom on suchocoaslons, and the angular IJostonian seemed to bo in no wi.56 put out by it;porliaps slie was accustomed to hear people malce a noise when Bhe played. Then, some how or other, John and Miss Hurney wandered off by themselves, and aid not show up ng.ain till nearly 10 o'cloclr. This evening was only a sample of those that followoc. Every ni^ht there was the, to mo, exernc ating houi- m tlio music room, Sud then Jolm and Gertrude Gurnoy would e niissod lor tho remainder of tho evening. Tlius matters dragged by for a week or more, and still Jolm made no roteronoo to the wager. I was oven conscious that he ivoided the subject, and set it down to that hatural instinct in us all that makes even the oldest whist player silent when the leok is going against him. At last one night toward tho end of tho second week he came into my room and seated himself upon tho side of my bed. It was nearly 12 o'clock, and ho had been out with Miss Gui-ney since early in the even- '�%am," he 'said, after o few moments' silenoe, and witliout any .beatiAg about the bush "I '11 pay for dinner." "A 1 right, John," I answered, "I knew you'd wisli to." "Good night, Sam!" "Goodnight, John." And he went quietly out of the room, closing tlie door careful ly behind him. Ho had thrown and luirtlost, then! Poor Johul llaysfillnnd thouirht about it all, and found myself pitying him a little in Bpjto of myself. I wondered how ho had gone to work in making liis delicate over-tui-os, and how thoy liad be(!u recnived. Had thoy been met by scorn, or, worse Btill, with ridicule? Perliai's she had saidnothinp at nil, only looked at him with tlioae great, honest gray eyes of hers-looiced liim over trom liead to foot, witli a world of surprise and disdain in their dcptlis, as if retili'/.ing, for the first time, the kind of man ho was. Poor Jolm, poor John! Yes, I pitied him, in spite o the fact that I knew ho desurved it all and more. The dinner came off tlie next day. It wus ono of Dolmonico's be,5t, and must have coat John a mint of money, for tliere wus nothing laclvink'that could tempt the palate or satisfy the cyo of the most fastidious epicure. Considerable curiosity was shown, and many and v.iried sncculiitiori.s mdulpredin by tho men as to the of It all; but, as neither of us expedient to let them into the secret, tlicy g;iVO it uji as a bad job, and enjoyed the banquet with a gusto known only to club men. Inat night the iast hop of the sea.son was to take place at the hotel. John and 1 �s\'ftnt down on an early boat to dress lor it, and ns wo came up the long walk to the Iiotel to-BCther, the first person we saw on the veranda was Miss Gurney. I )iad uiready pictured to iny.self tho hauehty reception in store for Joliii when he should meet lier for the iir.^t time ali'jr the evcnis of tlie precediiitr niglit. Iniasiiio my surprise, then, wiitn tho vonni; lady, disengaKing herself ironi the me.'lies of iho hammock where she linrt been coiul'ortalily ensconced, rose to her ieet and came down the walk to meet us. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come," she said, a pretty pink flush on her dork cheeks, and an espresBion of universal delieht in her splendid eyes. "What do you think? We astvs beoa asked to lead the cotillion to- gothevl lanit it,Bood of Mr.-7" namlnff the gonial proprietor of tho hotel. , "Good isn't half tho word-it's famous of himf' ho roplioil, enthusiastically. Xo loud tiie gerinan together I And she had ueen deiignted,' most obviously and .naively delighted at' the anticipation 1 :What did It all moan? Lato that night I escaped from the .crowded ballroom, and made my way towards tho west winft of the piazza, with the intention of having a tiuiet cigar before retiring, Crossing tho hall, I entered a darkened little sitting-rooin, whose window, I know, opened directly upon the secluded spot I W.13 in search of. Now, as 1 advanced towards this open window, the "soft carpet deadening the souiifl of my footfalls, I suddenly became conscibus of voices upon tho veranda outside. I was upon tho point of turning back when a familiar note in one of the voices caused mo to halt suddenly whore I was, andrthe next words, plainly audible, drew me cautiously towtvrda the window, on tip-too, in-spite ot niysolf. "Please don't ask me tliati What possible good can it do you to know about tho wager, de.arest?'" � \ Tlioso wore the words, and tho low, .almost pleiiding voice that spoke them was John's. � Now, whatever "dearest" might think about the wager, it was cortaifily a mutter of considerable-interest and speculation to mo just then. It had been the one theme uppermostm my thoughts throughout the evening, .and the more I had tliOimht about it tho less had I been able to come to any definite or satisfactory oonoliision in regard to it. This is the only excuse I have eyer had to ofEer my consoienCo for slipping as I did cau-;tiously into the groat easy chair near tho window and listening with all my oars; ;"Pl?ttSe tell mo, Jolin!" I hoard a soft, pleading voice say, "AH the gentlehi6h are talking about it; and I'm only a woman; you know, and so a true daughter of Eve. �Besides, I can^t see why you should care if I kho.wit. � Youmiistremember, sir, that the; time is oOminK when you are never to have any secrets from mo." ' . . - 'This last was said with a delicious mixture of shy coauetry and. tenderness that was bewitching in the extreme. That it captivated its hearer I oould not for a, mo ment doubt, for I saw his arm steal about her slim waist in the tell-tale moonlight. "You insist upon linowing, Gerty? "Yes, John, I insist!" confession ho was about to ma'so. "Go on, dear i I'm all ears," she said, nestling closer to him. "You remember when we first met, Gerty; before you went away, I mean?" "Yes, Jolm." "Well, you know that you were awfully kind to me along at tliat time-as you've always been, sweetheart"-(emphasized by a saueeze), and I used to think that perhaps-perhaps you oared a little for me, you Irnnw." "Well, at any rate, I rather fancied so, at as ill-luok would have it. I didn't keep know. "I did, John." "Even at first, dear?" "Even at first, John.^' but________________ the idea to myiself." "Youdidn'tl"; "No.' I was just conceited coxcomb enough to brag about it to Sam one night, while you were away at Saratoea. He took me up, and raked me over the coals unmercifully. To make a long story short, he said you didn't care a snap of your fingers for mo, and wore only playing last and looae-in a word, flirting with me." If there had been any further proof necessary, that single syllable of pained remonstrance would have shown me how far my siu-misos had been from the ti'uth. "Vtell, I was pictued; and finally lasked hun if he thouglit a flirt would allow a man to kiss her. Of course ho said no, and then - then - well, we made, the wager, dear." "I don't think I quite understand well yet, John. What was the wager?" "Must I toll you, Gerty?" "Yes, John, you must, now that you hare gone so far. What was this wager?" She had gently disengaged hofself from the encirclmg arm and stood facing him,' her luminous eyes fastened upon his face, and^one white, rounded arm ^resting against man ______ _________. ______________In his voice. "I bet that you would-'would allow mo to kiss you before the end of the season." An ominous and oppressive silence fell upon them both after this declaration, which lasted for a considerable length of time. At last she said: 'We have been engaged to ejioh other almost a Week now; is tl at tho reason you an?". have never kissed me, JoL._. "Yes, Gerty. 'Whea I found, at last, how much you really wore to me, I would have sooner out my linnd in tee nre than -win that bet. And you need not kiss me even now, sweetheart-that is, miless you feel Ukoit." It is just suoh momenta as these that make or mar the lives'and destinies of wbnien. Who could tell what'her, anSWaf WoUld'.bel' Would it be proinnted by the soito and yenom of wounded pride, or would her woman's nature listen to the dictates of some nobler voice vrithln her? Thus she stood for a full minute, buried in deep thought, and then, before John �well Knew what was happening, she made a quick movement, her shapely arms were twined about his neok, in a close embrace, and her lips sought his in a long, clinging kiss. And so it seems that although he paid for the dinner, John won the wager, after all, since there still remained tho best part of a week before the first of the month. As for me, as I think I have remarked before, I'm an old fellow; and it would be strange indeed if my burden of years had not brought with it a corresponding burden of wisdon. . Speaking, then, from this superior vantage ground, I give it as my honest opinion, that the less a man, even an old fellow, thinks he knows about a woman, thenearer he is to being about right in the end, Josh BUUngs" Philosophy. tls'ew Vork Weekly.] The luv ov change iz az uatralln man az it iz in natur. Thare iz two kinds ov hipokrits-the bold and the humble; aiid the humble'oues are the wust. . . The grate strength ov simplicity lies in the words, not in the icjeas. I don't boleavo thare iz ennything In this world that will add to a man's wealth, con-venienc6orluxiuT, but what ho ken git, if he will only hunt enuff for It. Allwiminln are bl natur flirts, but those who are the most so have the least sense. To be thoroughly good-natured, and yet avoid being imposed upon, shows great strength ov character. Bnny person who will deliberately flatter yu, will deliberately defame yu. It iz a mighty hard job tow respekt the man that we hav tew forgiv. I boloavD thare iz more people in the world honest trom policy, than thare iz from principle. Very old people often are free from all appearances ov sin, bekauze they hav nothing loft for either tew feed upon. Tlioro ai'e people who are alwus anticipating trubblo, and in this way they manage tew enjoy ineiiny sorrows that never really happen taw them. t'ear ov sin haz made a grate menny more Christians than tho luv of virtew has. I kno ov . sevral kinds ov kurloslty, but thai'6 iz one kind which prompts us tew stick our noze into things just for the purpose ov smelling. ffhe luv ov praize never made enny man wuss, and haz made menny a man better. Thoze people who are sik and disgusted witli themselfs are the ones who suffer from, ennui. .__ Putting tip a Ughtninic Bod. niiirper'fl Bazar.3 His mother-Waldo, why are you so extraordinarily studious lately? Waldo Beaoonwetilth (of Boston, aged 2Vi years)-I have noticed that recently vacated collego' presidencies have been filled by comparatively very young men, and m view of sotne immediate vacancies of tho same nature, I have deemed it prudent to be as tlioroughly prepared as possible. A Country of Ghosts. TDetrolt Free Press.] , Only 18 per cent, of the total population of Portugal can read or write, and it is no wonder that when tho 'wind blows from the southwest every housewife looks the front door to keep out the spirit of the dead. Let a farmer dream that he saw a black pig on the hiffhway and no one within 10 miles of him will chunge his shirt -for a month, believing that by so doing ho will start an epidemic. _ A "Striking" Suggestion, [IIar:icr'e Baztir.] Rich banker (to future son-in-la-w)-1 hope you appreciate, sir, that in marrying jny daughter you are inarrj'ing a young girl full of heart and generosity. Poor young man-Yea, indeed, sir; and I hope she gels these quahties from her father. At Princeton. [Hnn-ard Lampoon.] She-And so you graduated this year? He-Yea. She-And you.are never coming back? He-Ob. yes, indeed!-that is to say-you ECO-I-I jilay foot ball. What He Would 'Do. fKew York Pun.] Mr. Bingo-Tommy, when you get to be the head of a family what will you Eayto your sons? Tommy (thouKhtfuIly)-I -will tell them how ffood I was when I vta a boy. EASY HATS WITH CABDS. Tricks That Require No Preparation for Success. There is No Slciglit of Hand Abont Any of Those Simple Pi-oblems. But They Look DifSoult to People Who Don't Know How Thay Are Done. [Now York World.] Trioks with cards are universally interestr ing, and they have the advantage of requiring nd oliiborate preparations. The material for the following feats may bo carried in a waistcoat pocket, and they deiunud no legerdemain. Tliey are strictly mathematical in principle and require no training for their successful performance. To ascertain as many as seven cards thought of by ns many difCoront persons, have the pack thoroughly shufHod and, handing it to any person, request him to draw seven cards from the pack, note one of them, shuffle them well, and then place them face downwards upon the table. Repeat tliis' process with each Bucoossivepor-son, placing the cards drawn from the pack face downwards upoii those dra-vvn by the prodeding person. , When all of the .40 cards have been thus placed; deal them out in seven heaps, face upward. ASk each person in which heap his card now is. That of the first person will be the uppermost card of his heap, that of the second person the second card in his heap, that of the third tho third in his heap, and so on. It sometimes happens that two or more of the chosen cards are in the same heap; but the rule, nevertheless, applies. Should there be a lesser number of persons to choose they*should draw from the pack only so many cards us thoro- are persons, and in that case th6 number of heaps into which the cards are to be dealt must coiTe-spond to the number of persons choosing. . Pairs Bbpairbd-Any number of persons having thought of two cards each, the person perfonnmg this trick wishes to ascertain what thoy are. Tliis problem is sometimes called the pairs repaired. After giving the pack to be shuiDed deal out 20 cards, face upward, but placing them in couples. Invite as many of the company as please to note any particular couple they think fit, and to remember those ti\'o cards. When they Have done so gather up the cards, picking them up here and there in any order you may please, taking care, however, that none of tlie couples are separated. You now deal them out again, face upward, in ro-ivs' of five, according to tho following formula: Mutus dedit nomen oocis, or any four words, of five letters each, containing in all 10 letters twice repeated. The above sentence oontaiiis 10 letters only(m.u, t, a. d, e, 1, n, o, c), each twice repeated. This gives the clue to the arrangement of the cards, which will be as follows: It U TV s 1 3 8 a 4 3i . IS B I T B 0 6 T 8 N O M � E 'N 8 0 1 0 8 C O C I S 10 0 10 7 4 Imagine the four words printed as above upon the table. Deal the first card'upon the imaginery "M" in Mutus and the second the Imaginery M in Nomen, the next two on the imaginary U's, the next two on the two T's, and so on, You have now only to ask eaoli person in which row his two cards appear, and you willknow at once which they are. Shus, if a person says his two cards are now 1 the second and fourth rows, you'will know that they must be the two cards representing.the two I's, that being the only letter common to those two rows. If a person indicates the first and fourth rows you will know that his cards are those representing the two S's, and so on. The Magio Teiplets-This trick is very similar in principle to the last, 2i cards being used in this instance, dealt in triplets instead of couplets. After tho spectators have made their selection, pick up the cards as directed for the last trick, taking oare to keep the respfiotlve triplets together. Then deal them in rows of six, the formula in this case being: n a L a t a . . vow O T O � RnADiwa Hidden VaiiUes-Four paokets of cards bavins been formed face downward on the table, discover thd total value of the undermost cards. This trick should be performed -with the piquet pack of 32 cards, which Is the Ordinary pack with the deuce, tray, four, five and six of each suit left out. Invite one of the spectators to seleut privately any four cards, and lo placo them separately, face downward, upon the table; then, counting an ace as 11; a court oard as 10, and any other card ns according to ita usual value; place upon each of those four so many cards as, added to ts value thus estimated, shall moke 15. Va ue is to be taken into consideration only with the original four cards, those placed on them countmg as ono eaohi whatever thoy may happen to bo. Meanwhile retire. When the four heaps are complete advance to the table and observe how many cards are left over and above those placed in the heaps. To this number mentioned add 32. The total will- give the aggregate value of the four lowest cards, circulated as above mentioned. Should there be no coi'dg eft over tho total value of the. lower cards will be 32, but should there be an insuflioient number of cards to complete the four heaps ascertain this number lacking and substract it from 32. This can only occur, however, when the four sevens happen to be the underneath cards. , . _ Plaoinq an Uukkown Card.-a person having thought of a oertnln card and noted its position in the pack, tho performer can make that card appear at suoh number in the pack as another person shall name. Permit the pack to be shuffled and cut as freely as the company may please. Offer the pack to any of the spectators and request him to look ovei the cards, to think of any One of them and to remenaber the number at which it stands in the pack, reckoning from the bottom card upwards. Then ask another person to ascertain privately tho original number iu the paok at which the oard stands, and then to mention another number, higher than the first, at which ho would like the card to appear. Suppose, for instance, that the second number decided upon shall be 26. Then count off 25 cards from the Bottom of tho pack and place them on the top, or count off from the top of the pack tho difference between the number chosen and tho total number of the cards, BB, and place them on the bottom; It is immaterial which method is adopted. Now, ask the number at which the card originally stood, which, for example, was number 10, saying that you intend to coinmenoo your counting with that number. Begin to count from the top of the pack, oaljlng the first card (in this instance) 10, the next 11, and so on. When you come to the second number selected, in this case 25, the card found at that number 'will invariably be the one thought of. , . How Many wkrb Moved?-A row of cards being placed face downward on tho table, indicate by turning up one of them how many of them have during your'ftb-sence been transferred from one end of the row to the other. . . ^  This trick requires a row of 16 cards placed face downward upon the table, the first 10 cards having been prearranged in the following manner; First a ten, then a nine, then an eight and so on down to the ace, inclusive. The suits are of no consequence. The eleventh card should be some court card. This card, in the process which follows, will stand for 0. When tho fifteen cards are placed their arrangement will, therefore, be as followa: .... 10, 9, 8, 7, 0, e, 4, 3, 3, 1, 0, �, �. �, -tho four asterisks representing any four indifferent cards. Offer to leave the room and invite the audience during your absence to remove any number of cards, not cxoeodinsft ten. from tho right hand end of the row and place them in the samo order at the other end of the row. On your return you have only to turn up the eleventh card, counting from the loft-hand. end, which 'Will indicate by the number of its points the number of cards removed. To Discover a Given Card.-There are several metlidds of discovering a given oard. One is to deal the cards into three packs, face upward, and request a spectator to note a card and remember in which heap it is. When you have dealt 21 cards throw the rest a.side, these not being required in the trick. Ask in which heap the clicsen card is, and, placing that heap between the othertwo. deal again as before. Again ask the question, place the heap indicated in the middle and deal again a third time. Note particularly the fourth or middle card of each heap, as one of those three cards, will be the card thought of. Ask, for the last time, in which heap the chosen card now is, when you may be certain that it is the card which you noted as being the middle card of that heap. , . The same result can benroduced with any number of cards, so long as such number is odd and a multiple of three. The middle card in the last heap indicated will always be the chosen card. Placo the aces and court cardf in tour rows in such a manner that neither horizontally nor perpendicularly shall there be in cither row two cards alike either in suit or value. Tills is in the nature of a puzzle, rather .lan of 6 trick. The key to it is lo begin by laeintj four cards of like value, say four than of 6 trick. The key to Jt is lo begin by placing four cards of like value, say foui fclnBB, in a diagonal line from comer to cor-ner of the intended gqaore, then four other corda of like value, eay the four boea. to form the opposite diagonal. It,must bo borne in mind that of whatovorsuit the two centre kings are the two aces must be of opposite suits. Thus, if tho two centre k'ngs are those of diamonds and hearts, the two centre aces must be tnose of clubs and spades, and in adding tho two end aces you mUst be onroful not to plnoo at either end of the line an ace of the same suit as the king at the corresponding end of the opposite diagonal. R/IILWAY BLACKLIST. Not Many Copies Are Printed and Outsiders Seldom Can Catch a Glimpse of One. [New York �World.] A decidedly quoor little pamphlet is "Tho Confidential Memorandum," which is intended "for the exclusive use of those persons to whom it is sent." The little book does not boar the name of its printer, proprietor or compiler, and besides having an exceedingly small circulation itmakos its appearance oftly about twice a year. Tho persons to whom it is mysteriously sent keep it under lock and key and refer to it in' a surreptitious manners aa if the shadow of Anthony Comstock wore across tho threshold. It pitssos through the mails in a plain sealed ouvolopo and letter, postage is paid thereon Nothingiinpropor is printed in tho Memorandum," and yet.its pages are guarded with jealotts care. 'The Confidential Memorandum" is neither more nor less than a railroad blacklist and it contains some startling iuformntion about various people whoso names are not imknown to the American public. Number Forty 18 current, and only the higher officers of railways can obtain it. Some persons whose names are contained therein might ocnsidor the charges brought against them libellous, and so to avoid responsibility .and evade lawsuits the names of the publishers and tho place of publication are not printed upon tho title pag;e. Nearly every railroad in the United States is a part proprietor in the "Memorandum," and those who oompiloit draw their pay and inspiration from the records of hwidreds of railroads in Uncle Sam's domain. The book contiiins 10 pages of names of delinq,uonts and seven pages of the names of periodicals and the r editors who abused the. oom'tesies extended to them by railroads. Notwithstan4ing the edicts of the interstate commerce law, an imcomnionly large number of persons other than railroad men seouro passes and reduood rates from railroads; and it frequently happens that the recipients dispose of these favors to friends, scalpers and oven to strangers "for a consideration.' When a person is detected in loaning, selling, exohanging or altering a pass his name appears in the next issue of the Memorandum, and when he next applies to any road for favors he is met with a fixed smile and a polite excuse, but n^ver the true one. Unhappily thera are foimd on the blacklist tiie names and residences of several clergymen, as well as statesmen, who have abused the privilege. The charges are in some cases stated in an almost brutally specific manner, and would prove rather shocking.readine to the wives, cliildren or friends of the culprits. Among the "A's" are 23 names, including that of a St. Francis, Minn,, clergyman, who is charged 'with altering and loaning half-fare permits. The list of 68 names commencing with "B" describes ono as a, theatrical agent and a "d. b., first water." There are 65 names under the liead of "0," among whom is that of a man in Houston, Tex., who repro'seuts himselt as a special correspondent of a New York newspaper, and is summed up as ''a fraud." A Santa Fe preacher is accused of altering a half-fare permit to include his wife, and an ex-representative in Congress is charged 'With loaning his pass. A member of Cliicago's boasted Citizens' League ia known to liaye sold ills pass to a scalper, and so will get no more suoji favors. Hangers-on of theatrical companies, a member of thelower Legislature and eClitors oi small journals are mentioned on the list. One man i^ charged with gambling his pass away. _ A Mystery of the Tunnel. [Chlcngo Tritiune.] Without Bl mome-at's -wurning the train plunged into a tunnel. There is something filghtful In this sudden change from tho garlish light of day to the profound gloom of Cimmerian darkness. One moment we see flashing past us a widesprettding landscape on either hand. AH is gayety, animation, abounding life. The next moment everything is blotted from sight. The noises of the train that came to the oar with a gentle dffused murmur, are now focused into a deafening, terrible roar that assails the senses like tlie maddened rush of John L. Sullivan into thei field of dramatio art;' � �� r;-' - . The timid traveller, with wide open eyes sti'aininij to pierce tho horrible gloom, braces himself to meet the shook whose coming he fee s with that vague sense of alarm that is worse than the absolute foreknowledge of tho Impending danger. The train plunged on into the darkness. At high noon of that day Eulet Melone hiid wedded Glycerine MoCurdy, and the blissful pair had started on their wedding journey. In one of the crowded cars of that train sat Eulet Melone and his lovely bride. In the spectacle of young wedded love on its first journey there is something inexpressibly weird and touching. The manly, protecting devotion of the young and tender husband, the seraphic glow on the cheek of the gushing, artless bride-those, with the knowledge that people are rushing blindly into this kind of thing every day in tho year, moved the observer to reverie. 'Were' yoii alarmed, dearest?"' inquired Mr. Melone, after the train had emerged into daylight again. "N-not much, Eulet," answered tho blushing bride. "If I had not been afraid this timnol was a short ono. Glycerine," he whispered, "1 shoula have taken advantage of the darkness and kissed you, my love." � "Didn't you kiss me, dear?" exclaimed the wondering bride. "Somebody did half a dozen times I" Queer Letters to tho Postmaster, [Now York Tribune.] Postmafter Van Oott receives some curious letters. One suoh come from a woman In Massaohusetts, presumably an old mold, who had a favor to ask. She had been in New York lately, she 'wrote, and in a store ill 'Vesey St., not for from tho post office, had seen nine lovely black cats. Wouldn't the postmaster have tho letter-carrier on the route ask in tho various stores until he found tho oats, and then send tho address of the place to the writer. She was extremely anxious to got some Icittona. Another person had a request of far greater moment to himself to m.iko, Ho wns n farmer ih Montana, and wanted a wife. His helpmeet had died a few weeks before, and he wanted another in a hurry. Ho needed ono in his business. She shouldn't be especially young, nor yet roniiirkniily handsome, but Indispensable requisites were health, strength and a knowledge of the duties of a farmer's wife, Mr, 'Van Cott read between the lines that tho man had worked his first wife to death, and that his second would be likely to meet a sim lar fate, so he did not bestir himself much to find a woman who would nil the bill, _ Handicapped by ITature, [CSlongo Tribune.] Experienced burglar (to new recruit)- Great Jupiter I Don't make so much noise. New recruit-I can't help it. My toe joints always crack when I walk iu my stocking feet. Experienced burglar (much disgusted)- Then you'd better turn honest. You'll never succeed in this line of busines.'i. You|ro cut out for a family man with twin babies that need lullin' to sleep. Intense Eivalry. [WuBhlngton Htnr.] Little Barbara has a brother Max, who is her rival as well. The other day she said to her mother: "Mother, is Max older than I am?" Her mother said he was. "Well," she responded, in a tone of eminent displeasure and disappointment, "well, that boy boats me in everything, and he has heated me in bomin', too." lAIOnS OLD BACHEIORS. Eminent Celibates who Have Shaped World History. Voltaire's love Affairs-Why the His-torian Gibbon Kcver Married, Pliiloaophers, Statesmen, Artists, who ITever Know tlie Joys of Wedlook, His port of the Kite. [CWcago Tribune] The blusthing bride-elect was rehearsing the cojemony about to take place. "I shall expect you to give me away, papa," she said. "I'm afraid I have done it already, Caroline," replied the old man, nervously. "I told your Herbert this morning you had a aisposition just like your mother's." Brineine ITp the Post. ED! [Puck.] Head of the firm-That's a pretty tough looking offloe-coat you are wearing around, Mr, Travers. Travers-YoB, sir. I got this with the last raise in my salary. A Necessity, [Munaey's -Weekly.] He-How carelessly happy Miss Humpkins looks! She-Yes. When any one is 80 and has never been engag^ed, one has to look carelessly happy. [Now York IlcraW.] Forward now, you famous old baoliolors, and hear a P!Oan of praise in your honori Silent and unobtrusive, the celibates havo hold tlioir own, leaving their mark on tho world century after century. In their ranks have been aoiuo of tho oaith's greatest men; in their ranks today aro men whoso names tho world will not willingly lot die. Shoulder to shoulder with their busy married brethren in the crowded marts and in silent sanctuaries thoy have labored lonff and unselfishly, and tho fruit of their labor is being enjoyed by tho men and women of today. To theSo celibates, then, whether ecclosiastios or laymen, all honor is due from those who can appreciate their life work. Take the great thinkers for example. Descartes, Spinoza, Newton, Leibnitz, Swodenborg, Kant-whore in the history of human philoaophy can a more notable olusterof names bo found? Students from their birth, those men found no time to dally -with love, In the abstract thoy doubt-leas considered matrimony an excellent institution, but for themselves personally it had few attractions compared witli those which their solitary studies possessed for them.' Hence they eschewed tho delights and sorrosvs of family life and gave themselves up wholly to the pursuit of knowledge. Leibnitz did not wear his heart upon his sleeve for daws to peck at; hence wo know nothing of his love affairs. Cheroliez la fammo, say the French, but in the oaso of Leibnitz the search is of no avail. Ha bo-oamo a philosopher, a theologian, a matlio-matioian, a physician, a lawyer, a historian, a philologist, but with tho mysteries of love ho never ooncerned himself, Wlion he was 21 ho obtained his doctor's degree, and thenceforth ho devoted himself to science. When he died, in 1716, he knew that his namo was a power in Europe, and that, though he had not loft any children of his flesh, he had left many children of his intellect, and that they 'Would be cherished for ages yet to come, Baruch Spinoza was by nature unfitted for matrimony. Having no private fortune ho earned his living by polishing sbeotaclea. Fame was not his oojeot, and of all his writings a tlieologlc-politioal treatise was the only ono published during his life. A storm of disapproval greotod it, and tho autiior decided hot to provoke the public any f lu--thor. Ho did not cease to labor, however, and after his death his friends found that a mass of manuscripts were ready for tlio press. Another thinker, over whoso life no woman seems to havo exercised any in-fluonco, is Rone Descartes. Born in ICHO he lived a laboriqus life till KIBO. Ho took part in tho siege ol! La Eocliello in 1628 and then sought solitude in Holland and remained there lor 20 years. During tl is time ho published his metaphysical wor cs and made a ^'o^t name for himself. T lo Princess Palatmo became his warm friend and Oliriatine of Sweden invited him to her court. Ho decliiiod her invitation at first, fiut finally, finding that his theological opponents were determined to suppress him, he fled from Holland and took refuge in Stockholm, whore the rigorous olimate soon carried him off. Christine, whose counsellor and warm friend in a Platonic sense bo had been for years, mourned sincerely for him. Christine o� Sweden was a discerning woman, and there is reason to suppose that she found tho philosopher's manner and conversation quite as eharmins as his metaphysioal theories. Descartes, however, was proof against all flattery and seductions and retained his scholarly independence . to the last. Very similar was the fate of the great Sir Isaac .Novvton. AVhy ho never married is not clear. It is supposed,liowever, that ho Wasl-crossed in love in his youth and on that aooount abandoned all thoughts of matrimony. Had he boon married it is probable that ho would have been spared ono of the greatest misfortunes of h 8 life. Philosophers are generally unmet lodlcal in their habits, and Sir Isaac was no exception to the rule. Fond of animals, ho allowed his pet dog tho run of the house, and the result was that on one occasion his favorite overturned a lighted caudle and thereby caused the destruction of a sheaf of valuablo manuscripts. Sir Isaac gi'ieved sorely over this loss, and for some Sine his nliysical health was so impaired that he found it impossible to attend to any work. Can a man -n'hose vocation in life is to study molecular attraction and to found a new religious sect be reasonably expected to take unto himself a wile and to waste valuablo hours in listening to curtain lectures and in educating his children? Emanuel Swodenborg answered tiiis question in tho negative, and it cannot bo denied that lie practised what he proaolu'd. As a celibate Swedonborglived and died, just as lived and diod thousiinds of monks and mystics before him. His friends would doubtless have been much s.urpri3ed had he allowed himself to bo cajoled by any woman's alliu-onionts, and his religious fol.. lowers would certainly have lost some faith in him had he oast aside, even for a day, his apostolic garb and ventured to make merry as a mere human bridegroom. Swodenborg haply know that he could not afford to let Ids feet slip into tho pitfall of matrimony ; haply, too, he never met a maid or widow who caused his heart to throb with love and longing. Another man of monastic temperament was Emanuel Kant, the eminent founder of German philosophy. Woraanltlnd seems to have had no attraction tor him, and. from social pleasures he appears to havo ripidly abstained. His proper place was in a cloister, and no ascetic over lived who apportioned Out his time more reinilarly or did more oonsolentloua work during tbo 24 hours of each day. How great vitality there was in his work, and how great Kant's influenco wns and still in, thinkers ol every country know, and will not he slow to aoknowloclgo. Turning from the recluses to the man ol tho world, where can wo find a more dis-tinguishca bachelor than '\''oltairo? Born at Paris in 1094, and dying therein 1778, this witty Frenchman lived his memorable lite among tho gayest men and women qt the 'W'orld, and yet when his last hour came thorn was no wife to close his eyelids, thoro were no children to follow him to tho tomb. Mine, do Pompadour befriended him, but he was too independent tcsubmil to her caprices, and soon lost her favor. Nothing dismayed, Voltaire attached himself to tho court of the Duchesso de Maine, and spent his time between Paris and her estate at Sccaux. He also spent much time in the Bociety of Mme. du Chastelot, who had been his intimate friend for years, and continued to care lor him until her death in 1740. At )ier residence in Circy the poet had often found a happy resting place, and in her society ho had often found much eucouraee-ment when attacked by the angry critics and ecclesiastics ot Paris. That a most intimate tie bound her to him has never been denied, fbnt it has also never been denied that her influence over him uniformly for good. It was slie wiio restrained him when lie was impelled to do rash and foolish deeds; It was she who Biuirred him on to worthy work when he w;is inclined to enter tho lists and wage a fruitless battle agninst the champions ot Cliristiaiiity. A notable scientist herself. Mine, du Chastelet i'.noouraged him in his inathoiiiatical studies, and on one occasion competed with hiin for a prize which was olfered hv tho Academy of Sciences at Kuler. Hence it is not to bo wondered at that the merciless satirist and cynic shed bitter tears when she, who had proved herself his best friend, was talcen from him for over. '. . rhenceforward he lived his tumultuous life alone. Popular with thousands, hated by very many, lie never tailed to find women whose smiles and other favors oould have been his for the asking, but it is not clear that he av.niled himself to any extent of his privileges. Mme. Denis, his niece, for wlioin he had n great afloctlou. looked after his lioiuio at Forijy, and with her he spent his last days. It was she, too, who accoui-iinnied him to the capital, and wiio watched by his bedside when, ovorcoino by the greatest triumph of his life, he lay calmly waiting for the angel ot death to call hiin. Another distinguished man of letters who never entered tho bonds of matrimony was Horace Walpole. In 1765 ho took a trip to Pans, and at this period tho romance of his lite began. He became attached to Mme, Du Denand, and in her society passed the pieasantest hours of his life. To what extent the lady influenced his life is not clearly known, but all tho evidence goes to prove that she was unselfishly ana truly attachi^d to him. Auoiher famous Englishman and bachelor was Edw.ird GiUuui, the historian. A severe student, whosu view.s about religion were tho reverse of orthodox, ho wus by nature much of a rccliite and seems never ono woman is known to have inspired a deeper toolinK than friendship, and the fates wore against their mamngn; The lady subsequently became Mine, Nookar. 'i'hat Gibbon was sincerely attached to her IS certain, and that had it not boon for untoward circumstances she would have mar-r od him seems almost equally certain. Their paths in life, however, were divided: her fate was to become a shinins light in tho French capital, and his was to spend the noon and evening of his life in solitude at Lausanne. Cliarlos XII, of Sweden was another world-renowned bachelor. Throughout his .16 years of life ho did much energetic work, and apparently never found time for dalliance or love-making. A warrior every inch of him, ho was constantly in the field, his hand against his foes andhis life in constant peril. To such a turbulent life a fitting conclusion was a violent death, and Europe wns not surprised when it hoard that tho reatlosa warrior had boon killed at tho sioco ot Fredorickshall. Another renowned man ot action and celibate was Francis Dralce, tho navigator and discoverer. The sea was his mistress, and fighting the Spaniards was hiS life-work. Queen Eliz!\beth crowned him with honors, and ho repaid tho compliment by capturinB stores ot ispanisli gold and taking possessioi� of California in hor namo. Honored throughout England as a courtier and a seaman Drake over maintained his higli reputation. Constantly at sea he had really no homo on land. No woman had a nest ready for him after his travels; no children looked out lor his home-returning ship. For CO ho waged a good fight against England's foes and then rested forever trom his labors. Great .artists havo much of tho rooluso in them, and Louis von Beethoven, tho composer, was no exception to tho rule, For art he lived and tho joys and sorrows of do-mostio life he never know. Yet tho story goes that he was once deeply in love ana that his unoonquorable shyness nlono pro-vented him from becoming a happy loveir and husband. Indeed, his aversion to society was abnormal. Melancholy and morose, he shimned his follows and found pleasure only in his music. He wrote possionate love, music for others, but he won no woman's love for himself. Priests ot the Koman Catholic onuroh are necessarily celibates, nndaim to keep them- � selves unspotted from the world.. Not often do men 11 ice Eicholieu and Mazarin appear. Richelieu, a great cardinal and a groat statesman, played liis part well in public aifairs, and served his king as well as ho served his church. A celibate by training, ue was by instinct a man of the world, and in tho history of his time he played a leading part. Hence the champions of celibacy nood'notsoruuletQ point him out as one of the great baohelors who havq done much toward shaping the world's histoi-y. ' In this country two bachelors have done day nearer to the valley of tho shadow of death. Hard workers both, they have left their mark on their fjenoration, and it would ho well for America if It oould only produce every century a score or so of bachelors ot similar intellectual oaUbre. A LEDGER STORY. Howthe Inexperlenoed Literary Amateur, With Little Pains or Bfalns, May Malce ittothe Queen's Taste. [J. L. rord In Puck.] Take a small, white cottage, shaded by fine maple trees, and let it "nestle in a peaceful valley 'neath tho shadow ot the grand old Now England hills." In this cottage place the widow Perkins, or Leo, or Osgood, or Lnrraboo-any one ot those will do-and her daughter Mary, or Ruth; if tho latter, it should bo referred to as the ''swoot old Bible name which hor fatli or loved so 'n'oll." Add a summer boarder in the person ot a young artist who is "strolling through the valley iji search of material for his oanvosos." Care must be taken to select a tall, sunburnt artist, with broad shoulders and brown board, and ho should bo called Lionel, or Gerald, or Reginald. His surname may be Borostord, or Ravenshoe, or Anmdel, _ Lettliese ingredients simmer slowly f� three weeks before a hot Aiigiwt sun. At tho end of that tiino tho artist will be done brown, according to calculations made by the widow when she took him to board. Now, season to the taste with a little bitterness and woe. Let Ruth iind a letter on the lu'tlst's table, written in a delicate tom-inino hand. Let her eye fall upon the words, "My Darling Lionel," and then lot hor throw it indignantly from hor and go out, "with hor hand proasod cloao over Viov beatinir heart, out-out into tho desolate night." Be careful to lot Mary or Ruth go out-out into the desolate nigut-without reading my more of Lionel, or Gerald, or Reginald's etter. That would malce the cake, dough, )Osldes 'violating al the traditlona':tliat Jlflvo' povornod tho daughter.'! of boarding-houso landladies from time immemorial. Tho weeks that follow this oocurronoo may be fraught with sorrow, ond during tills time the dish may be allowed to cool until a thin crust forms over its surface. Towards tho end of the summer, just as tho A TERWBLE RIDE. Down a Colorado Mountain in a Flying Stage. The Brake Broke and the Coach Plunged Down at lightning Speed. Seoonds Seemed Hours, But-tiia Driver Proved Hiihself a Hero, as we are at this minute. -We made r purse for him pn the spot of ?oOO,^andvtb},:j company made him a present of a thouaanf i/ more. : ' .....Bfi|C-A rev/a,J How fall- you aro, my mother I Ah, though 'tl-iniuny a year Since you were here. Still do I ace your boauteona face. And with tho glow Of your dark eyes oometh a grace Of long ago, 8o gentle, loo, my mothetj Just as of old, upon my brow, Like now, ralleth your. dfjirtliti,nd;� touch, ,. i : And8tlll,|i5..tHeji,ri'.i!,:',) il: : . A voice thiitglada me overmuoh " Cometh agidn, ^y fair and gentle mother! How you havo loved mo, mother, I liuvo not pou'er to tall- Knowing full well That even In the leat Above It ifl your will To watch and gnarrt mo with yonr love, l/ovlng niB still. And na ot old, my mother, I am content to be a child, ny mother's love beguiled From all these other chanu�i Bo, to the lust, �Within thy dear, protecting arm Hold thoit me fast, Myffnardlan angel, mother! A Summer Idyl, [Vanity Fair.] Thoy were two lovers, fond and true. That sat them "where the wild thyme grew." (Twae BUniuuu', and the uky waa blue, 1 uiiiy i'omtirU.) They apuke of future bliss when wed. And acted as I've heard U said All lovers do! (.1 uat overhead There sang a lark.) Tho pair had not been seated long (The akylarit he hud ceased his song), �^Vllon it appoaroU that eomothlng wrong Had Just occurred t "Twaa aunmicr, aa I said above, All living nature teemed with lov^ The tleldintce, beetlea, turtU dove- Both beast and bird. Tho casual observer, who, Unseen himself, observed thoaa two, Sighed, ns he tliought how sweethearts true Of times quarrel; And wished tlmt he with soft careaa Could soothe tho lady's dire dlatresa ("Z'waa atunmer, and I must Unpress On you the moral) I Therefore he cautiously drew nigh. The role ot comforter to try, ('Twasthe s(.':ta(iu when 'neath blazing aky All nature pa^its)! liut ere ht* coidd reach her aide, 'J'lie girl aprjing up qullf terrilled, WhUc bev__ciiuipnnion �w'ildly crWd, "iJlCdiat those nnta!" The Secret. [Cosmo Monkhonae.} She pnBBca In her beauty bright Ainongat the mean, amongat the gay, � And all are brighter for the sight, 'iAnd bleaa her aa ahe goea away. And now a beam of pity ponra. And now a apark of spirit tuei, Uucouutcd, from the unlocked stores Of her rich Una and precious eyes. And all men look, and all men ainlla, l^ut no man looka on her aa I; The.v mark her for a little �'hlle, E'it I will watch hor Ull I die. Ami If I wonder now and then Why ttda so strange a thing abould b>-. That ahe be Been by u-laer men, And only duly loved by me; I only wait a Uttle longer. And wutch her radiance In the toozqi Har-s making light a little atronger, And there obllteraUng gloom. (Like one who In a tangled way �Watches tlie broKen aim full throngh. Turning to gol-.l the faded apray, And uiaklilg di;mioads of dew.) CntU at Insl, as my heart burns. She gathers oU lu-r acattcivd light, And uniilviai'ii rudUnce turoa Upon me like a aea of llgUt. And thou I know they aeo In pai't That i|vhlch God leu mo ivcrehlp trtialti Sh� gives them glsiioea ot her heart, Uuiiue, theaiiiulUne uf liertoiU.