Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 April 1883 — Page 9

LIL’S NEW YORK LETTER, Itie Wild War of Words Between prima Donnas and Managers. Nilsson, Abbey and Mapleson Ready to ’flinch—A Ghastly Adjunct to Bellevue— Notes About Books and Authors. lespondence of the Indianapolis Journal k\v Yokk, April s.— The war of the rival •a-houses grows hotter and fiercer. Mans and prima donne are becoming so inexibly mixed up that I doubt if they ever fairly to rights again. One of these days will hear of Mine. Adelina Nilsson, iager of Her Majesty’s Opera Company, of Mr. Henry E. Mapleson, the renowned aa donna soprano. Now the antecedents he trouble are thus: For some years mel Mapleson has been giving perform>B with Her Majesty’s Opera Troupe, in Academy of Music, very unsatisfactorily. Je has produced only a few old, hackneyed i-jcras. repeating them over and over until Iveryone was sick of them. Then his best angers have bad a bad habit of falling sick—or something—and disappointing the public, ‘Xnd prices have been high, and the Academy is a superannuated old hulk that ought Jto have been torn down years ago, and altogether the public is tired and sick of the TWhole thing. But now a handsome new opera-house is (being built, and is to be under the management of Henry E. Abbey, a manager who has made himself very popular by always performing all he promises. He is backed up by the Vanderbilts and other wealthy parties, so there will be no danger of funds •running short, and he is just now engaged in getting his troupe together. There is where the trouble comes in. Mapleson is cordially hated by all his singers, and they are now leaving him and flocking over to Abbey. Hence these tears. Abbey has al- ' ready secured Campanini, the famous tenor, and Schalchi, Mapleson’s best alto—indeed, a the best alto in the world. He claims, too, ; tohavesecured Nilsson and Del Puente, both lof whom are now singing for him. But Mapleson also claims ’em, and swears they signed a contract with him for next season 'months ago. However, he has some doubts about it, so he puts another string on Iris bow and says Abbey is welcome to Nilsson, If or she is no great shakes, anyway. She sang for him fifteen seasons (he says, but she didn’t do it), and her whims and tantrums worried him almost to death | and made him bald. And now she’s crankier than ever, and her voice is failing, and her repertoire is limited, and altogether . he wishes Abbey much joy of her, and hopes ‘ he won’t get bald too. A CANTATRICE ON THE WAR-PATH. That sort of talk made Nilsson mad as hops—and when her temper once gets up, it's a holy terror. “Why, the hateful little caJ!’’ she exclaimed the other day; “I’d • like to get hold of him! I’d make him balder than a turtle! Why, it’s just awful how that man lies! He knows very well I never, never, never would think of singing for him again, after the experience I had with him.” 1 # “What was the trouble, Mme. Nilsson?” I asked. “Trouble? Don’t ask me about trouble! Wait till you have and old bald-headed d—d what is it? oh, yes duffer with false teeth, trying to make love to you. Ugh, it makes iue sick even now to think of it! And mind, too! he has a wife, already poor thing! I wonder if she knows how he travels everywhere with that horrid Mrs, , > “Then it isn’t your fault that he’s so bald?” “My fault? I bet yon if I could get hold of him it would’t be my fault it there was a hair left on his wicked old pate! My fault? No, I tell you, its nothing but his own wickedness. Why, he’s told me lies enough to make ten men bald as cobblestones.” Mme. Nilsson isn’t as little as she was once; and when she gets excited, and clenches her white fists, and flashes her big grey eyes, she really looks as though she could annihilate a dozen Maplesons. “Then you positively will not sing for Mapleson next season, but will sing for Abbey?” “Well, as you Yankee folks say, I should —— I should oh! yes I should smile! And Old Mapleson can have Patti all he wants, and Nicolini too! If Mme. Schalchi and I, and Campanini and Del Puente can’t sing his old troupe into fits oh! he’s % mean, horrid old reprobate, and I won’t talk another word about him, so!” MANAGER ABBEY. Going down to the Grand Opera-house, the tig marble palace that was the scene of Jim Fisk’s audacious ventures and Josie Mansfield’s conquests, I found Mr. Abbey. He was exceeding complacent and confident of victory in the operatic war, but disinclined to talk about it. “i leave it to Mapleson to talk while I work,” he said. “Mr. Abbey, how did you come to be a manager?” I asked. “Because I failed in the jewelry business which my father left me,” he said. “That was less than a dozen years ago. in Akron, 0. I lost $35,000 in a year, and didn’t have a copper left to start anything else with. But I al ways was fond of theaters, and I soon got a job as ticket seller at what they called their ‘opera-house’ there.” “How did you make a start as an independent manager?” “Lotta, my dear; Lotta. She did the business for me. She came to Akron for a night, ten days after I got my place in the boxoftice. I made myself mighty agreeable to her, and also to her mother, who was traveling with her as her business manager. The little one was just starting her career, which lias since been so successful, and Mrs. Crabtree really didn’t feel up to the task ©f conducting all the business. Well, I was very polite and accommodating, and the day after the performance called on them, and the upshot of it was that the old lady asked me to go along with her and lieip manage Lotta. I agreed, ancLwe started three days later. I Bpent a month with them, and then thought I could do better elsewhere; and, besides, I vyas only twenty-four, and Lotta was about the earn a age, and well, people will talk, you know.” “What did you go at next?” “Spent two years in Pittsburg as treasurer of Ellsler’s Opera-house. Then I came to New York, and hunted up Lotta and engaged her to play under my management for one season. And by gad. Miss, we cleared 125,000 apiece! And she and her mother and I went traveling the next summer and had no end of a good time, and set all the gossips’ tongues to wagging. But, pshaw! Lotta never thought of marrying me, nor 1 her. }Vhy, she has refused twenty better looking leHows than I am!” ‘‘What was your first New York house?” “The old Park Theater. Lotta lent me $40,000 to take it with, and played for me

there six weeks, an4then went on a tour under my management. We made lots of money, and I soon took the Philadelphia Park Theater and the Boston Park Theater, and several others.” “When did you commence bringing foreign talent to this country?” “In 1879, when I brought over the ‘Spanish Students.’ I cleared $20,000 on that venture. Since then I’ve had Bernhardt, Salvini, Patti, Nilsson, Langtry and a lot of others; and next season I’m going to bring over Henry Irving and his company.” CURIOUS WORK AT BELLEVUE. Going this week to Bellevue, New York’s great hospital, to see a friend who had been run over and badly smashed up, I stumbled across a ghastly yet altogether interesting and unique department of the institution. It was a photograph gallery. And the business of the camera was to take pictures of the dead and dying, and mutilated, but especially of the ghastly inmates of the morgue, who were to be buried without having been identified. The corpses are placed in coffins, reared upright, and photographed, and it often happens that a body long since buried as “unknown” is identified by means of the picture. The gallery has been established fifteen years, and contains many thousands of pictures of living and dead bodies. Some are distorted by disease, or mutilated by accident or violence, so as to have almost lost the semblance of humanity. Others look calm and lifelike, so that no one would suppose their pictures had been taken in a chamber of horrors. A series of eight photographs shows the successive stages of one of the most remarkable surgical cases in the annals of the hospital. The first shows the patient as he was brought in—a boy without a nose. He was born so, I believe, the result of generations of catarrh-smitten progenitors. Where the nose should have been, a horrible depression, a regular furrow, extended from his forehead to his lip, and at the bottom were two small holes, bis nortrils. A more horrible disfigurement I never saw. for his mouth and eyes and cheeks were all drawn out of shape. The second picture show's how those parts were put in place, by the use of various instruments, and sewed and braced fast. The third shows the same process completed. The fourth shows a socket cut into the flesh just between the eyes. The fifth shows the nail and skin removed from the middle finger of the left hand and the end of it inserted in the socket between his eyes, and his hand firmly bound ill that position over his face. As his mouth was covered by his palm, a hole was cut in his W’indpipe and a silver tube inserted for him to breathe through, and he was fed by pumping soup, etc., through a hole cut in one cheek. The sixth picture shows the finger, which has grown fast to the face, cut away from the hand at the middle joint. The seventh show’s it fashioned into a nose by trimming it into shape, uniting it on each side with the flesh of the cheeks, and boring holes in the end to connect with the nostrils. The last of the series shows him as he looked w’hen discharged from the hospital, and a very good-looking boy he was, with a nose by no means ugly or even curious looking. Going down stairs, I met him in one of the w’ards where he is now employed as an assistant, and certainly, had I not been told, I never w’onld have dreamed that be w'as wearing his middle finger on his face for a nose. LITERARY TOPICS. It will be tw'o years yet before the Lenox Library will be opened to the public. It was given to the city some years ago by James Lenox. His gift of real estate and building fund was $1,300,000, and he added thereto an endowment fund of $225,000. Its magnificent marble building, facing the park, with shelf room for 300,000, and containing many thousands of valuable books, besides a wealth of statuary, paintings, etc,, has been forbidden ground to the public for the past six years, and will be for two years to come. Then, it is hoped, the great analytical and critical index on which Dr. Allibone has been worKiug for years, will be finished, and the library will be free to the public to whom it was given. “Mark Twain,” who is living at his beautiful home in Hartford, Conn., conies down to the city every few days. He has finished his new work, “Life on the Mississippi,” and it is being brought out by Osgood & Cos., in a large octavo volume of 600 pages, profusely illustrated. “Mark” tells me it is based largely upon reminiscences and experiences of his own life, years ago, as a Mississippi pilot. He lias been refreshing his mind on the subject by a long visit to his old scenes. I meet Richard Henry Stoddard, the poet, frequently. He is now working for Cyrus W. Field as a literary editor of the Mail and Express, and capital work he is doing. He is showing his age very much, and seems rather soured witli disappointmentat having grown old without achieving that fame to which he deems himself entitled. He certainly has written many charming poems, and is an able essayist, too, but he has never been able to break away from the treadmill of newspaper work. Mr. George Parsons Latbrop is writing a character novel of American society. It will be decidedly free and bold in style, and will doubtless create a sensation, it is to be called “Newport,” and will begin in the July number of the Atlantic Monthly and run six months. People are not yet done talking about Edgar Fawcett’s poetical essay on “The Modern Novel,’’ which was read at ttie Nineteenth Century Club recently. At first the club was delighted, thinking the essay was a great compliment to it, and admirers of the Howells and Janies style of novel were in the seventh heaven, for had not Fawcett taken up the pen manfully in behalf of their favorite? But now they all begin to feel uncomfortable. On re-reading the essay they are afilicted with a horrible suspicion that he was in his inimitably delicate way “guying” them ail and satirizing the club, and Howells and James and the modern novel in general. I happen to know that this latter view is the correct one. It is just like Fawcett to do such a thing. He is a rich young fellow, who only writes for amusement and to create a sensation. And whether he writes in poetry or prose, he always does create a sensation. For he is what Artemus Ward would call “a sarkasticle little cuss.” As I have 6aid. he is rich. He is also handsome and stylish, and dresses fashionably, and is just such a half-languid, half-sparkling, serio comic, genial, flirting, insouciant man of the world and society as N. P. Willis would be were he living now. He is just now writing away desperately, overworking himself, he says—“hard at it half an hour every other day,” he tells me—on anew novel which will treat of the social conquest of the Knickerbockers, just achieved by the nouveaux riches of Vanderbilt Hill. When it comes out, look out for a sensation. Lil. Readjusting a Mule’s Vertebrae. San Francisco Chronicle. A mule a Stockton. Cal., recently suffered a dislocation of the fourth, fifth and sixth vertebra. 1 of the neck, and was about to be killed, when a veterinary surgeon concluded to experiment with him. The animal was placed in slings, and a tackle fastened la the l*ead. A number of men manned the rope, and after several strong pulls the dislocated verterbrte slipped into place. The wind depeuds for Its health very largely on bodily conditions. The gloomy fears, the desponding views, the wariness of soul tbnt many oomplrtln of, would often disappear were the blood made pure and healthy before reaching the delicate vessels of the brain. Ayer’s Sarsaparilla purifies and vitalizes the blood, and thus conduct s to health of body and euuity of luiud.

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SATURDAY, APRIL 7, 1883.

THE LATE PETER COOPER. The Humble Beginning of a Woiidrously Successful Career. Personal Appearance and Habits of the l)estd Philanthropist—Founding Cooper Uniou—lncidents and Anecdotes. Collnted from New York Papers. Give honor and love forevermore To this great man gone to rest; Peace on the dim Plutonian shore, Rest in the laud of the blest. I reckon him greater than any man That ever drew sword in war; 1 reckon nnu nooier than king or khan. Bijver and belter by far. And the wisest he In this whole wide land Os hoarding till bent and gray; For all you cau hold in your cold dead baud Is what j’ou have given away. 80, whether to wander the stars or to rest Forever hushed and dumb, He gave with a zest and he gave his best And deserves the best to come. —Joaquin Miller in the Herald. Early Life and Habits. Young Peter’s life early became one of hardship. After he had reached his third year his father removed to Duane street and Broadway with his little hat store, and as soon as the son was old enough to do any work he wad*employed in the business with the other children. His first work was pulling hair and cutting fur. The advantages of school were denied him. In all his life he only went every other day for a single year. In his father’s store he was very useful, and before he was fifteen years of age was able to make a hat. But the father became dissatisfied with his business. He was fond of a country life, and finally sold out to his eldest son by a former wife and removed to Peekskill, where he opened a country store and built a little church. Later than- this he began the brewing of ale, and young Peter was employed in delivering the kegs of ale to the places in town and country where it was sold. The father then removed to Catskill, where he opened a hat store, and besides this manufactured bricks. Peter was made useful in carrying the bricks. The hat store was afterward removed to Brooklyn, and not long after this tiie family went to Newburg, and the father opened another brewery. Here the son remained until be was seventeen years of age. He had accumulated $lO of his own money, and one day coming to New York he invested it in a lottery and lost it all. Late in life he often alluded to this experience as being an excellent lesson worth more to him than it cost. Few persons among those who live in New York city, at least, and who have attended any considerable number of public meetings, will require any aid to recall the personal appearance of Mr. Cooper. There have been few meetings, especially such as were held to promote industrial movements, in which his figure did not dignify the platform, and to the thousands who have enjoyed the benefits yielded by bis great philanthropy his every feature was familiar, for he was always in the midst of his work. In early life, it is said, he w’as slight of figure and delicate of constitution. Strict living and no stint of work, however, developed a strength and vigor of which the traces remained up to the time of his last sickness in a strong voice and a frame which, though stooped under the burden of years, was yet capable of considerable endurance. Mr. Cooper w’as a tall man. His features were less seamed and furrowed than those of many men twenty years younger, and had a kind and benignant expression, llis forehead was broad and high, and the lines of the sides of his face tapered from his temples to his chin. A pair of old-fashioned spectacles with green side-shades covered his eyes, and his hair, long and silvery, hung down to his shoulders, while a long fringe of white beard surrounded the lower portion of his face. His manners were always cordial and simple toward strangers, and he enjoyed talking to them about his early iife and the economic questions of the day. Instead of abating, his interest in the Institute grew with Ins years, and though he was willing to put aside the claims of his business, be grew more and more engrossed in his system of industrial education. He used to visit the Institute every day, unless the weather was violently stormy, and nearly every one of the attacks of sickness that came upon him of late years was traceable directly to exposure to cold, during these visits, or overtaxation of mind or body. To his daughter. Mrs. Hewitt, who was the guardian of his health, these daily visits were a source of great concern. It was Mr. Cooper’s custom of recent years to breakfast in his own room. He was not a late sleeper, and was ready to enter his carriage to ride to the Cooper Union always before noun and usually by 10 o’clock. By that time, moreover, he had informed himself of the news and discussions of the day by having the newspapers read to him. After spending about two hours in the building, dividing his time between the office and the various departments, lie would again enter his carriage and be driven down town to his old place of business, No. 19 Burling Slip, or to one or the other of the corporations in which he was interested. Usually by 3 o’clock he was back in his home, where he took luncheon and rested in an easy chair till dinner time. He received many callers, being accessible to everyone at almost all hours, llis diet was of the simplest kind, milk having formed his chief nutriment for the last ten years. Mr. Cooper was a regular listener to the services of All Souls’ Church, of which I)r. Bellows was the pastor for a long time. He and William Cullen Bryant were always seen at the morning services, and before Mr. Cooper passed his ninetieth year he was invariably in his pew on Sunday at both morning and evening service. Since the Rev. Robert Collyer came to the city Mr. Cooper has been a frequent attendant *at his church. Some of the thoughts of the venerable philanthropist in regard to a future state were hinted at not long ago, when he said: “I sometimes think that if one has too good a time here below, there is less reason for him to go to heaven. I have had a very good time, but I know poor creatures whose lives have been spent in a constant struggle for existence. They should have some reward hereafter. They have worked here; they should be rewarded after death. The only doubts that I have about the future are whether or not I bad too good a time.” Founding: Cooper Union. The inspiration of the Cooper Union dates back to 1828. Mr. Cooper was then an assistant alderman of the city, and represented that part of it which extends on the east side from Eighth street to King’s Bridge, on the Harlem river. In the board he met a gentleman lately returned from France, who told him how hundreds of young men went to Paris to attend the Polytechnic School, and underwent great hardships that they might receive the benefits of lectures and instruction afforded by that institution. Mr. Cooper recalled his own early desi-re for such instruction, and resolved that when he had sufficient means lie would build such a school. Twenty-five years ago, in Eighth street, just above the spot where the Bowery branches into Third and Fourth avenues,

the foundation stone of the Cooper Union was laid. A scroll was buried with the cor-ner-stone, which bore the inscription: “The great object that I desire to accomplish by the erection of this institution is to open tho avenues of scientific knowledge to the youth of our city and country, and so unfold the volume of Nature that the young may see the beauties of creation, enjoy its blessings, and learn to love the Author from whom coiiietli every good and perfect gift.” The school was “to be forever devoted to the union of science and art in its application to the useful purposes of iife.” Five years passed before the building was finished. It is a brown stone and iron structure, thoroughly fire-proof, of massive Roman architecture, an irregular quadrangle in shape, having dimensions on its four sides of 90, 146, 165 and 195 feet. Its original cost exclusive of the site, which had been purchased about twenty-five years before for this verv purpose, was $964,000. In 1869 Mr. Cooper gave a deed of trust of the property to a board of trustees, consisting of Mr. Cooper as president, Daniel F. Tiemann, Edward Cooper, Wilson G. Hunt, John E. Parsons and Abram S. Hewitt. In the same year SIO,OOO was given to meet the immediate wants of the institution, and $20,000 for the establishment of a museum. Other gifts made a total of $700,000. Os the splendid success of the institution in supplying the want which it was intended to meet, a recent annual reportot the curator gave ample evidence. Every department was full to overflowing. More than 3,000 pupils had entered the various classes. Between 400 and 500 applications liad been put on file to await the retirement of those who already held places in the classes. The instruction and lectures which these pupils enjoyed wore given to them absolutely without charge. The expenses of the various departments amounted to $50,769, all of which was derived from the rent of stores and offices occupying threestories of the building, from the rents of the larger and smaller halls for public meetings, and from an endowment fund of $150,000, chiefly designed for the support of the reading-room and the increase of the library. The Secret of His Success. He attributed his great success in business to an early determination that lie formed of giving to the world an equivalent in some form of useful labor for whatever he consumed iu it. No man was more modest in his manner. To the last be did not know the distinctions that money and position make to the human kind. His temper was equabie and pleasant: he had a smile and a good word for every one, and, though he was not a handsome man, his face wore the cheery look of one whose good deeds were easily done. His career was fuil of patient toil, of well directed inventiveness, of efforts to add to the appliances of our civilization, of devotion to the public good and of genuine charity toward all men. He had lived in the time of every President, and had stood in St. Paul’s Churchyard where he saw the mock funeral that followed the death of Washington. He had identified himself with the growing interests of the country and had made his influence felt for good in all classes of society, but more especially among the toiling masses of humanity struggling at the foot of the ladder he had ascended. Measured by the achievements of the years he had seen, he was one of the oldest men who had ever lived; but his heart was ever young and his belief in the progress of man "to a better social condition, and especially his trust in the ability of men to establish and maintain self-government, were as fresh as when he began to travel the path of life. He felt that nature had provided bountifullly for the wants of all men, and that all that was needed was knowledge—scientific, political and religious—and self-control, in order to eradicate the evils under which society had suffered in all ages. There are three things in connection with Mr. Cooper’s philanthropy that deserve special notice, it was eminently practical; it went to nourish self-help, and it was that best of charities which renders charity superfluous. It gave what was better than money —the training necessary to earn it, and fortified self-respect instead of breaking it down. He considered that the money he earned was to be held as a sacred trust for the benfit of mankind, and that it was given him for the good of the world. Every dollar he earned he considered as an increased obligation, and thus rebuked the selfishness which uses money for personal aggrandizement. This, indeed, is one of the most important lessons of his life. Incideuts and Anecdotes. “Peter Cooper was a member of the Union League Club from the time of its organization,” said Thomas C. AcvOn, the Assistant United States Treasurer. “Two years ago he was elected an honorary member—a distinction which has only been conferred upon General Grant and but few others. Unless, the president, William M. Evarts, should call a special meeting in the meantime, I suppose no action will be taken by the club relative to Mr. Cooper’s death until the next regular meeting, which will be a week from to-morrow. Doubtless a large delegation from the club will attend his funeral.” Mr. E. W. Tapp, who was Peter Cooper’s neighbor in Burling slip, said: “I knew him well, for l have been in business twen-ty-eight years upon this spot, and of all the distinguished men I ever met I think lie was the ablest. I have seen him besieged by applicants for aid. They would wait here for hours for him. The clerks kept them out of the office, but Jiey would hang around outside until he came. Many of them were old soldiers. I have seen twenty of these applicants surrounding his carriage at one time, and every one of them received assistance. Since the death of William E. Dodge I cannot call to mind any one of Mr. Cooper’s old-time business neighbors who is alive now.” During the war Peter Cooper was one of the leading men. It never occurred to his placid nature that anybody would want to destroy such a splendid utility of human nature as the Union without being temporarily insane. But he had no bitterness in his nature, and no austerity. In this respect lie was a ref resiling coutrast to some of his contemporaries, like Bryant, who never could have a principle at heart without hating some other man for having a different one. Peter Cooper presented the picture, in a large and grasping society, of a man wiio could thrive without dishonesty, could be popular without demagoguery, could die without superstition. He found in this life plenty to do, and did it well, without being in a hurry. Loving intellectual things, he never let his intellect encroach upon his heart. Here is an anecdote which Mr. Cooper used to relate, and which shows the kindly humor of his nature as well as his inventiveness: “In early life, when I was first married, I found it necessary to rock the cradle while my wife prepared our frugal meal. This was not always convenient in my busy life, and I conceived the idea of making a cradle which wor Ibe made to rock by a mechanism. I did ‘■o. and enforcing upon by first idea, I arranged the mechanism for keeping off the flies and playing a music-box for the amuse ment of the baby. The cradle w r as bought of me afterwards by a delighted pedler, who gave me his whole stock in trade for the exchange and the right of selling the patent in the State of Connecticut?” Mrs. Cooper died in the seventy-seventh year of her age, and on the fifty-sixth anniversary of her weddinc-day, December, 1860. Mr. Cooper never spoke of his wife without emotion. lie attributed all his highest happiness, and most of his success in life, to the

sterling qualities of character in his wife. He said sue was the “day star, the solace and the inspiration of his life”—words that express a deep feeling, and also a substantial fact; for there is no doubt, from the character given her by others, that she was a woman of superior mental qualifications, and had precisely that fitness and training that made a worthy and most efficient “helpmate” of Mr. Cooper. Certain it is that her position w T as one of no secondary importance in Mr. Cooper’s life and the development of his character. UNDER FIRE. Impressions ami Feelings During the Progress of a Battle. A recent writer thus speaks of his experiences and feelings in a battle: “It is always fashionable to give first impressions. Shall 1 give you mine? I shall assume an affirmative without affording time for rebuff. First, war dispelled ihe life-long illusion that battles were the orderly moves of a game of chess. Campaigns may be likened, as I have beard them, to the manipulations of that game, but battles are made up of a series of experiments, more or less protracted, according to the ingenuity of the commander and the experiences of his officers and men. The results of a faro bank can be calculated with as much accuracy as the results of a battle-field. It is the veriest chance, the victory, as in all games, of course, inclining to those who are most cool, and therefore the most likely to perceive advantages. Second, I have overrated the dangers of battles. Here for five hours we have exchanged cannon-balls, bullets, bayonetthrusts and saber-strokes, and literally there is ‘nobody hurt,’ the loss in killed and wounded on our side being about j one in 200 of those engaged. These are my i impressions. Are they not the counterpart j of all first experiences on the battle-fierd? A i friend asks me the feeling of a non-combat- i ant under fire. Were you ever caught in the open fields when a heavy thunder-storm was raging? If you have been, and had no special fear, you have, nevertheless, entertained an opinion that possibly lightning might strike where you were standing. For the threequarters of an hour that I was under fire, as a non-combatant, there was almost a continuous thunder of artillery. I could realize no special danger, but only an ill-defined thought that possibly some of these flying missiles might come over where I stood in the way. On comparing view’s with the others situated like myself, encountering the same opportunities, and with similar purposes, I find they had the same sensations, so that I may fairly assume that the mass of men under lire have little or no thought for personal consequences, and that cowardice is not a normal characteristic of the human race.” WHAT CURIOSITIES EARN. The Wages of the Giant, Midget, Bearded Lady, Fire-Eater and Such. St, Louis Post-Dispatch. “There are probably a dozen first-class giants in the business,” said J. E. Sackett, in answer to a question, “and they get all the way from SSO to SSOO a week. Colonel Goshen gets $75; Brustad, the Norwegian, gets $75; Chang, the Chinaman, now’ in London, gets £7O a week and his traveling expenses. Murphy, who is also over there and who is the tallest man in the w’orld, gets about the same salary. Cooper, who was with Forepaugh last season, gets S2OO. Midgets are more numerous than giants. There are over 100 of them now on exhibition. Torn Thumb is, of course, a high-salaried curiosity. Che-Mah gets $125 a week. Jennie Quigley receives SSO a w*eek and Little Jewel is paid $36. General Mite and Lucia Zurata, who travel together, get SSOO a week and 10 per cent, of the profits of the management. General Totman is paid S3O; Major Atom, $75, and Major Dot, SSO. An armless wonder, like Charles E. Tripp, who writes and otherwise uses his feet as other people use their hands, is worth S4O a week. The only legless man in existence, outside of Walter Stuart, is Eli Bowen, who has only feet and ankles growing out from his body.* He commands S6O a week, and is independent, owning two large and valuable farms in Michigan. Fat women are numerous and, with one or two exceptions, do not get more than sls or S2O. Mile. Myers, the bearded lady, receives S4O a week. They average about that figure. “Ventriloquists receive a weekly salary of from S2O to S6O. Cassenovia, the chap who cuts men to pieces on the stage, got $125. Other jugglers range as low as sls. Fireeaters receive from $35 to SSO. Patti, the trained monkey man, got sls; Giovanni, the bird-trainer, S6O; Anelli and his trained birds, $20.” _ General Grant’s Thoroughness. Washington Correspondence Poston Traveller. Ex-Postmastcr-general Creswell said recently, while speaking of General Grant: “He is, in many respects, the most remarkable man that 1 have ever met. When I was appointed Postmaster-general I took great pains to look up and study the laws laid down by Congress for the government of the department, and had them at my finger’s ends. Then I carefully laid out a general policy which I thought would furnish the best and most complete service to the country. It was not until after some weeks of deliberation that I finally ventured to lay the matter before President Grant for his approval. Well, one day I was up at the White House, and I made up my mind that my plan was laid so securely that there would be no difficulty in procuring its adoption by the President. I brought the matter to General Grant’s attention, and he told me to go ahead and express my views fieely and fully. He was sitting in a chair puffing away at a cigar as I went over my plan patiently, until I thought at last that I was making myself tiresome, as the President did not seem to be paying me the attention which I thought tlie subject deserved. 1 finished my story, however, and he told me to call the next day and he would give me his decision. The next day I was at the White House at the appointed time, and, intensely to my surprise, the President took up the points of my policy one by one and discussed thorn with an amount of information on the duties of the Postmaster-general which 1 had never dreamed of. He told me that he agreed witli the policy as a whole, hut that there were some points on which he did not hold the same views as those which I had advanced. Then he took them up and exposed the Haws with so much hard common sense that I afterward wondered why I did not see the defects myself before. At our first interview I thought that he was hardly paying me the ordinary politeness which tire occasion seemed to demand, but the second visit assured me that, not only had he listened most intently to what I had to say, but that he had devoured every idea I had advanced.” A Wonderful Machine. Hartford Oourant. At last the Farnham type setter, which for the past eight years has been in process of construction in private quarters at Colt’s works, has been perfected, and is now on exhibition in a store of the Goodwin building, on Haines street. It is certainly a wonderful machine, doing the work, as its inventor claims, of five men. It is about the size of an ordinary piano, with lettered keys, as the operator touches which the types take their places with unfailing regularity. The work of distribution is done simultaneously with the type setting and even more rapidly, so that the cases are always full of type. The chief difficult}’ heretofore has been in the justifying, but this has now been overcome, and is done W’ith twice the rapidity of the ordinary mode. The inventor. Mr. Page, believes that every obstacle has been overcome, and that the machine is now ready for ilie trade. If it really proves to be as successful as it seems to be, it will take the rank with the great labor saving inventions of the century.

The Baby. I. O this Is tne way the baby came: Out of the nijrlit a l * comes the dawn; Out of the ern here as the flame; Out of the hud the blossom on Tho upple-bougli that blooms the same As in glad summers dead and gone— With a grace and beauty none could uaineO this Is the way the baby came! And this is the way the baby ’woke: As when in deepest drops of dew Tho shine and shadows sink and soak, The sweet eyes glimmered through and through, And eddying* and dimples broke About the lips, and no one knew Or count divine the words they BpoketAnd this is the way the baby 'woke. . . lit. And this is the way the baby slept: A mist of tresses backward thrown By quavering sighs where kisses crept With yearnings she had never known: The little hands were closely kept About a lily newly blown— And God was with her. And we wept— And this Is the way the baby slept. —James Whitcomb Riley. PRESIDENT AND THE PEOPLE. The Plain Talk Between President Arthur and Those Who Call ou Him. T. C. Crawford In Washington Herald. President Arthur has a very direct way of dealing with his callers. Anyone who has any real business to transact will never Dave any difficulty in securing an interview From 1 until 2 p. m he gives up to unofficial callers. These visitors are received in the library, a long, oval-shaped room west of the room where the cabinet meetings are held. One day last week I sat in the library and watched the President as he passed his callers in review. He receives them ali with great simplicity and directness. His manner is more that of a man of the world than of a politician. He tells the plain truth to his callers. Where lie can help he does. Where no hope can be given he tells the disagreeable but wholesome truth with a politeness and kindness that soften the harshness of a refusal. The President first shakes hands with the people who come to pay him merely their respects. Then he walks about and talks with his business callers, who are seated upon a line around the room. He sits down with no one, lie walks up to each with a polite question of inquiry, and for the moment he devotes his entire attention to the person addressed. He has a good humor and a vein of satire in his talks with his visitors that give great variety to the interviews. He is always faultlessly dressed. The only color in his dark morning attire is a red rose in his buttonhole. His manner is always polite to every one. He only becomes brusque when a request made is so manifestly improper as to be classed as impertinent. Here are a few interview sketches taken during my morning’s observation*: A lady in a bottle green arises with a black mantle over her arm. A small black hat comes down over a low’ forehead, while a black speckled veil half covers an ordinary small featured face. She whispers a request to the President, who has to bow to catch her meaning. “Yes,” said he, “l understand. You want me to recommend you for-promotion.” “Yes, you have letters from General Grant and others. I have no doubt of it. You have enough without any word from me.” “Yes, I know you have recommendations. My dear madam, 1 have seen cases where recommendations were piled up as high as this White House, and I could do nothing. Do you think this is a matter for me to consider? llow can I know your merits?” She still persists. “Madam, when I first came into this office out of good nature I did recommend A, B, C and D for promotion. Nothing came of it. What would be the amazement of my secretaries if I should now all at once insist upon tiie promotion of E?” She continues to insist and the President is forced to walk on to get rid of her. Here is the way a fresh office-seeker meets his fate. lie was a small man, who belonged to the type of men who cannot carry on a, conversation with one without standing between the feet and leaning up against the man addressed. The President backed away from the man until he consented to talk at a reasonable distance. After he had related his wishes, the President said: “What you ask of me is very simple. It is only to turn out a good, honest, tried man, who performs his duty, and put in von, about whom I know nothing. Os course, I have no time for anything else but to consider just such eases as this.” The little man looks very uncomfortable, and begins a wiggling apology. The President stops him. “I dare say,” lie says, “you do not like this way of putting it. It is disagreeable for you. Well, it is also unpleasant to me to be compelled to say these things. But I will not turn out good men without any reason. This may seem strange to you.” The little man turns to go, and the President nods pleasantly to him to keep him from swooning from disappointment, as he says: “Your turn may come some time.” Tins caller had found out something positive in one day. Early decisions make great savings in hotel bills at Washington. To one group of callers the President says: “You gentlemen come here every day to make the same argument. Perhaps if you would remain away one day I might find time to make a decision in your case. As it is you take up all the time that can be given to it with your talk.” One pale-faced young woman, with a slight, black mustache shading a thick-lipped, vulgar mouth, stood up with languishing impertinence, and said a certain distinguished gentleman had told her to come to tiie President for a letter recommending her for an appointment in the departments. The President did not even look at this caller. He stood like stone as he talked. When she had concluded he said: “I never write letters recommending people for appointments in ttie departments. lam not in the habit of indorsing people whom I do not know, for no reason at all.” This was said in a voice distinct enough to be heard by every one iu the room. To a hook-nosed, sharp-eyed, graymoustached, rotund German he said: “You were here yesterday; the day before, every day for a week. Are you coming to-morrow.' What are your plans? Your case has reached a certain point. No talk can advance it beyond that point until the Secretary of the Treasury acts. “But he is sick. I appeal to you ” “I do not know one word about it. Do you want me to go to Mr. Folger’s bedside and sit down with him and tell all about your case.” The German remonstrated. “What is to be done?” said the President. The secretary is sick. I am sorry for that But neither you nor I can help that. You must wait until he is w’ell. You are in the face of a misfortune, and you must gnu am* bear it.” “But,” said the German, with a desperatiou that was almost pathetic, “I nave grinned for seventeen months and can beat it no longer.” 1 have given the cases where refusals mad cover go eral principles of tho methods oi the President. He will not interfere will, the leg iiumte workings of the departments He wiil not turn out good men from office He cuts short all impertinent questions, anc puts every caller at once upon a plain, com moil sense business footing. Miss Nki.lik MoGuikk, 27 South NewJerspi s iv< i, I rulimiiooli*, says: “Brown's Iron UK Lera oared iue of nervousness.” •

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