Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 January 1887 — Page 2

VE VICTORIBUB. BT LILT CUBBY. There’s many a doleful song been lung, And many a sigh been uttered. For him whose bread grim Fate hath flung To the earth, with the down side buttered; For him whose sup is a bitter cup— In whose heart fierce passions forage— Whose luckless basin lies bottom up When the rain it raineth porridge. ’Tis O, and alas I for him who faints And falls, Vte victis, truly! Swift some one springs to the breach and paints His life and its virtues duly; And never a grudgeful note betrays Such sermon or plaintive ditty, For the age is a patron-age, whose ways Embrace the fashion to—pity. But what of a song or a sigh for thbse Whose struggles have not been wasted? And where is the ear to hear their woes, Who Victory’s sweets have tasted? Who, out of the dark below to the light On the heights of Fume ascending, Are straightway marked for the shafts of spite And envy and hate unending ? Nay, nay! The world, though a selfish world, Holds ever a just position, And thanks the creature whom chance hath hurled In the dust—for his sweet submission. But woe to the human who somehow wins, Who climbs to the top, unheeding That one of the darkest and direst of sins Is the dreadful sin of-succeeding I

FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES.

BY W. H. S. ATKINSON.

A large and fashionable crowd thronged Steinway Hall, New York. Usually a New York audience, selected from the “upper ten thousand, ” is not very demonstrative — esjiecially over a new aspirant for its appreciation and favors. But on the occasion of the debut of Miss Alta Alwyn as a public singer, New Y’ork society forgot itself. The new song-bird became a favorite before she had finished her first number— a difficult “show-piece” in Italian —and when, for an encore, she gave, with pathos and richness of tone, the tender and familiar “Swanee River,” the great audience rose en masse, and cheered to the echo, while costly bouquets fell in profusion at the feet of the young artist. And Alta Alwyn was happy, supremely happy. Such a night, such a success as this, Lad been her one cherished dream during four long years of incessant toil and study. Alta Alwyn was not in love—had never been in love, and was a total stranger to Dan Cupid and his tricks.' The ruling passion of her'young life had been ambition: a desire to excel in her chosen profession. Now that the first step on the road to fame had been taken, now that she found, at the very outset, all the wealth and fashion of wealth and fashion’s metropolis at her feet, she was happy. Two other persons in that brilliant assembly were also elated at Alta Alwyn’s success. One of these was her tutor and manager, Signor Rivera; the other was Mr. Richard Cameron, a wealthy young New York banker. The cause for Signor Rivera’s satisfaction is obvious; Dick Cameron’s unusually bright eye and flushed cheek will require some explanation. On the morning after the concert, Miss Alwyn sat alone in her morning room. The pretty apartment was filled with the rich perfume from a thousand roses—the offer-

With a sad heart and heavy step, slowly left the room.

ings of the previous evening—while a side table uas literally stacked with notes containing congratulations and invitations from great people, anxious to cultivate the acquaintance of this rising star. Alta Alwyn was a very beautiful woman; indeed, one word alone is fitting to properly describe her charming appearance. She was magnificent. With youth, beauty, talent, and assured success, life just then seemed all sunshine to her, and the reverie in which she indulged was a very pleasant one. In the midst of it a servant announced “Mr. Cameron. ” A slight shadow darkened the fair ariist’s brow for a moment. Only for a moment, however, for neither annoyance nor excessive pleasure were discernible in her countenance, as with cool indifference she bade her caller “good-morning.” “I suppose,” said Mr. Cameron, who ■was a peculiarly handsome man, perhaps thirty years of age, “I suppose congratulations are in order, Alta—only congratulations would be idle, common-place ■words coming from me. You know how more than pleased I am at your success, viewed merely as a success; and then there is something else.” Miss Alwyn toyed with a rose, but answered nothing. “Alta,” continued Dick Cameron, “three years ago I loved you—love you now. Three years ago I wished to make you my wife, out you refused and bade me wait until the wish of your life, the desire to shine as a success! ui singer, should become an accomplished fact. Your wish is now fulfilled; your success is greater than you could ever have dreamed it would be; and now I am come to claim your promise. Will you keep it, Alta?” Miss Alwyn’s eye» drooped, and she continued to pluck the petals from the lovely rose in her hand. Suddenly she raised her eyes and addressed her companion. “Dick, I will not pretend that I do not understand you; I do. But- 1 -! cannot keep my promise. I am not a woman, Dick; I am an artist. Where my heart should be is nothing but ambition. I do not love you, but I do love music; I do love the applause of listening crowds, and I do love fame. 1 could never make you happy, Dick, and as your wife I am certain life for me would be one long regret. You

have been very good to me, Dick. alwayi, and I appreciate, more than I seem to, your goodness. But please go away and forget me, for I cannot fulfill my old promise.” That was all. Dick Cameron made no reply, but, with a sad heart and heavy step, slowly left the room. Patiently and faithfully, for three tedious years, had Richard Cameron waited for the woman ho loved, trusting implicitly in her promise to marry him as soon as the world acknowledged her talent, and this was how that woman kept her word. Last evening he was so proud and happy, and this morning Dick Cameron, although one of the richest men m New York, was also one of the most miserable. That dismissal had another effect, also, upon Cameron. After that, his love, although not less strong, was less pure, and he was never quite as good a man afterward as he had been before. • « ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ A month passed away—a month which proved to Alta Alwyn the truth of the old adage, “that nothing succeeds like success.” As for Dick Cameron, he was almost forgotten by the now famous singer. One day Mr. Cameron sat in his office in Wall street, thinking (as he thought all the time now) of how he could ei.her win Alta Alwyn—or forget her. While thinking thus, there came a rap at the door, and it opened to admit Signor Rivera. The latter apologized for his intrusion, and then proceeded to explain the object of his call. “Mr. Cameron, I want money. At this moment I am only one step removed from a ruined man. I have staked everything upon my pupil, Miss Alwyn, and she has certainly, so far, justified my expenditure of time and money upon her. The expense of advertising her has been enormous, and I have reached that point where I must

“Stop!" exclaimed Cameron.

money or stop. Of course my stopping will not seriously hurt my pupil; there are plenty of men who would be only too glad to back Miss Alwyn, but that will not help me—nor you. Now, I thoroughly understand how matters stand between yourself and my pupil. Listen, and don’t get angry. I can kill two birds with one stone. I must have money—money is all I care about. About twelve thousand dollars would relieve all pressure for the tijne being, and during the next three seasons (the period of my contract with Miss Alwyn) I could doubtless clear forty thousand dollars. But if you will give me seventy-five thousand dollars now I will ‘drop’ Miss Alwyn altogether, and so manage matters that in a very short time she will be only too glad to forget her music and accept your offer of marriage. Come, Mr. Cameron, the sum I have mentioned is a mere bagatelle to you.” Now Richard Cameron was, decidedly, very much in love; still, he was notsoentirely lost to things terrestrial but that he knew full well that this was a most unique and extraordinary offer. He certainly wanted Alta Alwyn for his wife, and to attain that end would gladly expend twice seventy-five thousand dollars. But were Rivera’s proposals honorable, were they worthy his consideration? Anyway, how could Rivera guarantee to bring his plans to a successful issue, and should a man who would break a contract with a woman be trusted in any degree? All these thoughts passed, one after another, through Cameron’s brain. “Well, Mr. Cameron?” urged the signor. “I do not quite see through your scheme, signor, ” said the young man. “I will be frank with you,” resumed Rivera. “It is clearly understood between us that I want cash and you want the lady. If my proposition is accepted, well; if not, well. Only, no riding the high horse —no strong expressions of indignat.on—nothing of that kind, please, or I stop right here.” “Go on,” said Cameron, as the Italian paused for a moment. “I flatter myself that I have ‘made’ Alta Alwyn as an artist; also, that I understand her nature thoroughly. As I have made her professional reputation, so I can unmake it—l can blast it. If I know anything of my pupil, she will not be able to take failure and disappointment very well. When it comes she will turn to you, and not until then. If necessary I will try something more. I will damage her private reputation; I will kill her socially; I will ”

“Stop!” exclaimed Cameron. “I do not wish to hear any more. But I must have that girl. I will give you seventy—no, I will give you eighty thousand dollars now, for a present, to help you out of your difficulties—a present, you understand, without regard to Miss Alwyn—l cannot make money bai gains on her account —I give you this as a present. Of course, if you can help me in any way, do so. But be careful. Call to-morrow, and you can have the money.” When the manager had gone, Cameron tried to soothe his conscience. But think as he would, try to persuade himself as he might, he could not drive from his brain the knowledge that he had agreed to pay money to an unscrupulous man for the purpose of destroying a woman’s fame, and, perchance, her good name. ***** * Right well Rivera succeeded in his plans. With a flush bank account he grew reckless, and his professional duties and obligations were thrown to the winds. This alone was sufficient to seriously hurt his protegee. But he did not stop at that. He used every means his cunning mind could desire to blast Alta Alwyn’s reputation, and, three months after the young singer had maae her triumphal debut, her fame nfe an artist was killed. Not only so, but many were the cruel stories, dropped from careless lips, in regard to her private life; and, though utterly untrue, they hurt her none the less. As Rivera had foretold, Alfa Alwyn codld ill brook disappointment. She had no near friends, and while her heart had held naught but ambition she had not felt their need. Now she yearned for some one in

whom she could confide, and the only one of whom she thought was Dick Cameron. Yet, when Dick Cameron came to her in her loneliness and once more offered his hand, she refused him. Not that she had the faintest suspicion of Cameron’s part in Rivera’s plot against herself—or, indeed, of the plot itself. For she had felt so S,I U’. V f° r at the loss he must necessarily (as she supposed) suffer on account of her failure, that she pressed upon him the greater part of her own share of the profits of her brief season. No; if she had twice refused Dick Cameron’s love, she had always trusted and respected him, and could never have associated his name with a mean action. But she was proud, and having, in the heyday of her triumph, refused his love, she felt it would be utterly impossible for her, with any degree of selfrespect, to take that love when all else failed. So yet again Richard Cameron w - as disappointed. Sick at heart and somewhat ashamed of himself, he left New York and took up his residence in the gav French capital. And when the girl who had once said that she had no heart, the girl who had so lately known nothing but ambition, who had cared for naught but success in her chosen profession—when this fame girl realized that the ocean lay between herself and Dick Cameron, she knew then, when it was too late, that she loved him. It was only the repetition of an old story: ’How could I know I should love thee to-day, Whom that day I held not dear? How could I tell I should love thee afar. When I did not love the anear?” Her professional failure and the unkind gossip of New Y’ork society had cut her to the quick; but all that was forgotten now, and, oh, if he would only come to her, for just a few minutes even, so that she might kneel before him and tell him how mistaken she had been! But the days and weeks wore on; and, at twenty-three, Alta Alwyn was disappointed, broken-hearted woman. Three years slipped away, and in the musical world the name of Alta Alwyn was almost forgotten, or at best only a dim memory.

A train was speeding along the iron track, on its way westward, in the evening of a day in late fall. In the parlor car sat a man of, perhaps, thirty-five years—a man with a tired and even dissipated expression upon his face, though he was decidedly distinguished-looking. He was weary after traveling for twenty-four hours, and was debating in his mind whether he should spend another night upon the cars or stop off and rest, when the porter yelled “Tiffton.”. That settled it. As a boy he had spent many jolly times at Tiffton, so he would renew his acquaintance with the old place and the well-remembered hotel, where the beds were, at least, more comfortable than Pullman car berths. So he alighted from the train and walked up to the hotel. As he signed the register he noticed that it was nearly ten o’clock; but he wanted exercise, and so sauntered out upon the familiar streets of the modest Western town. He had not wandered far before he came to the entrance of the Grand Opera House, where a plentiful display of flaming posters announced for that evening’s programme a performance of “Faust and Marguerite,” by the “Ansberg Opera Company, under the direction of Max Bischoff.” Extremes now met in our traveler. Exactly three weeks before he had formed one of a brilliant party in a box at the Grand Opera House in Paris, where a magnificent company had performed this very same opera of “Faust.” Now the whim took possession of him to witness the opera, performed by a third-rate company, in the theater of a country town. Ho bought his ticket, and as the house was almost full, he was compelled to take a seat very near the stage. The curtain was down when he entered the theater, and he guessed that there could be but one more act. There was no orchestra—only a piano, and soon the stranger heard it played, fingered by no mean hand. He glanced at the musician and then at his programme. —“Bischoff? No, that must be ah, well, perhaps I am mistaken,” he thought; and at that instant the curtain was raised, disclosing the prison scene. Lying upon her bed of straw, and not five yards from our stranger, was Marguerite. But she was not acting; she was dying. Blood flowed from between her lips, though only two people in the large audience noticed it. In one moment the music ceased, and in the same instant two men leaped upon the stage. One was our traveler Richard Cameron; the other was Max Bischoff, known in other days as Signor Rivera. It all happened so quickly that the Faust and Mephistopheles of the play had not yet appeared upon the stage. Yet none the less the excited audience beheld before them a modern Faust, supporting upon his kgqe a wronged and dying Mar-

Supporting upon his knee a wronged and dying Marguerite.

guerite; while near by, and watching them both, stood a miserable specimen of a nineteenth century Mephistopheles. As the curtain was hurriedly lowered, Alta Alwyn breathed her last in the arms of Richard Cameron. ****** The next morning the Tiffton Tattler recorded the sudden death of Miss Addie Ansberg, and gave as the cause a hemorrhage of the heart, produced by overexertion. t Only two men who read that newspaper knew that Addie Ansberg was the once famoils Alta Alwyn, and that she died of a broken heart. It is easy enough in the evening to get up in the morning.

NEW YORK’S SENATOR.

Congressman Hiscock, of Syracuse, Chosen to Succeed Warner Miller. [Albany special.! The two houses of the New York Legislature met in joint convention on Thursday, and elected Congressman Frank Hiscock as United States Senator to succeed Warner MiUer. At the roll-call the Senate

showed 31 votes, Kellogg being the only absentee. The vote was: Hiscock, 19; Weed, 12. The vote in the Assembly was: Hiscock, 72; Weed, 50. In making up the vote in joint convention. Frank Hiscock received 91; Smith M. Weed, 62; total, 153. Hearty applause greeted the announcement of the vote by Lieutenant Governor Jones. Frank Hiscock was born in Pompey, N. Y., Sept. 6,1834, and received only a com-mon-school education. In 1855 he was admitted to the bar, and five years later was elected District Attorney of Onondaga County. He served in 1867 in the State Constitutional Convention. In 1877 he began his Congressional career, being elected from the district comprising Onondaga and Cortland counties, the great salt section of the State, and he has been returned regularly, always by large majorities.

THE LATE GEN. HAZEN.

Buried with Military Honors in Oak Hill Cemetery, Washington. [Washington telegram.] The funeral of Gen. W. B. Hazen, late chief of the Signal Service, who died of diabetes a few days ago, took place from St. John’s Protestant Episcopal Church, on Thursday. The services were conducted by Rev. Dr. Leonard, rector of the church. A throng of distinguished people attended, including Secretary Endicott, Gen. Sheridan, and many prominent officers of the army and navy. The honor-

ary pall-bearers were Gen. Benet, Chief of Ordnance; * Adjutant General Drum, Paymaster General Rochester, Quartermaster General Holabird, Surgeon General Moore and General Duane, Chief of Engineers. The active pall-bearers were eight volunteers from the Signal Corps. The interment was made in Oak Hill Cemetery, with military honors. Gen. Hazen succeeded Gen. Meyer, the original “Old Probabilities,” as Chief Signal Officer in December, 1880, and continued at the head of the weather bureau up, to the day of his death. He was a native of Vermont, and was 57 years old. In 1851 he entered the military academy at West Point. Four years afterward he graduated at this institution, and was made brevet Second Lieutenant of the Fourth Infantry. Engaged during the next few years in fighting the' Indians of Texas, in 1859 he was made First Lieutenant by brevet. At the outbreak of the civil war he acted as Colonel of the Forty-first Ohio volunteers. In 1862 he was made Brigadier General of Volunteers, and Major by brevet in the regular army in 1863, a reward for his courage in the battle of Chickamauga. Successive promotions for distinguished services in several great battles led up to his being made, in March, 1865, a Major General, and one month later he was commissioned Major General of Volunteers, to rank from December 13, 1864. He was mustered out of the volunteer service in 1866, and subsequently served as Colonel of the Thirty-eighth Regular Infantry, and of the Sixth Infantry. Inuring the Franco-German war he was employed in studying the education and characteristics of the French and German troops, and upon his return to the United States embodied his observations on these subjects in a book entitled, “ School and Army of France and Germany.” In 1877 he was appointed military attache to the United States Legation at Vienna, and three years later to the position of chief Signed Officer.

A TEXAS TRAIN ROBBED.

Eight Masked Men Plunder an Express Train of the Texas and Pacific Road. The United States Mail Pouches Rifled of Their Contents—About $15,000 Secured. [Fort Worth (Texas) special] One of the most daring and successful train robberies ever committed in this State was perpetrated by eight armed and masked men two miles east of Gordon, on the Texas <t Pacific Railroad, between 2 and 3 o’clock Sunday morning. As the regular passenger train pulled out from Gordon for the east two masked men jumped on the engine, one on each side The engineer, John Bosquet, turned to them and asked: “Where are you fellows going?” “Just going to take a little ride,” answered one of them.”-*'-“You will not ride on here,” said Bosquet. “I guess we will,” said the man, and in an instant the engineer was covered with two pistols pointing directly at his head. He was ordered to pull ahead, which he did until he reached the coal chute at the trestle bridge, something over a mile east of Gordon. Here the engineer discovered that obstructions had been placed across the track, and he was ordered by the two men, who still held their pistols in hand, to pull up. As soon as the train stopped six more men, all armed, appeared and ordered the engineer to take his pick and hammer and break in the door of the express car. He refused at first, but was induced to do so by threats of instant death in case of continued refusal. After the door had been forced the robbers entered and went through the safe, taking everything they could find. The amount of the loss could not be ascertained exactly, but report places the amount at sums ranging from SB,OOO to $15,000. Having finished the work in the express car, the robbers went to the mail-car and made a demand on the route agent for all the money or valuables he had. Thinking that the robbers would not dare to molest the United States mail, the agent was very cool, and told the robbers that they were in the wrong place, and that he was a United States mail man. This declaration had no effect on the robbers, who told the official that unless he complied with their demands he would soon be a dead man. There were sixty registered mail packages in the car. While the robbers were going through the express matter the mail agent had secured thirty-two of them and only gave up twenty-eight to the robbers. The passengers were not molested. A Sheriff who was on the train exchanged shots with the robbers without effect. There were also negro soldiers on the train. The value of the mail packages cannot be estimated.

PHILETUS SAWYER.

Re-elected to the United States Senate from Wisconsin. The Wisconsin Legislature has for the second time elected Hon. Philetus Sawyer to represent his State in the Senate of the

United States. His new term begins on the 4th of March next, and ends on the 4th of March, 1893. r Philetus Sawyer was born in Whiting, Addison County, Vt., Sept. 22, 1816. His father was a farmer and blacksmith and lived at a time and in a region where those employments offered but little' return. When a mere child his father removed to Essex County, New York, where the coming Senator’s childhood and youth were spent among the mountains and forests of the Adirondacks. His early life, like that of most of the dwellers in that region’; was one of manual labor, with only the opportunities for education that the limited resources of the common schools at that time presented. At the age of 17 Philetus Sawyer bought his time for SIOO from his father and started out into the world alone. He was so successful in his efforts that at the age pf 31 he had saved $2,000, and with this he was enabled to seek a more profitable field in Wisconsin for his future efforts. He settled on a farm in Rosendale Township in Fond du Lac County. After two years of farming with indifferent success he turned his attention to his old calling, that of “logging,” and he removed to the then village of Algoma, now the city of Oshkosh. Herq he rented a sawmill, which he finally bought, and from that time to this his business career has been the most successful. His industry and sagacity have been so rewarded that he now stands in the front rank of Wisconsin’s wealthy men. In early life he was a Democrat, but uigted with the Republican party on its organization in 1854. His public life began with an election to the State Assembly in 1857, and a re-election in 1861. In 1863 and 1864 he was Mayor of Oshkosh. He was elected to the Thirty-seventh Congress in 1864, and by re-election remained a member of that body until March 4, 1875, when he declined another election. In January, 1881, he was elected United States Senator from Wisconsin, and on the 26th of January, 1887 was re-elected for a second term of six years..