Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 November 1886 — Page 12

THE STORY OF A

By BEET HABTR

(Otl

lighted, 1686, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., published by arrangement with them.]

CHAPTER XI.

HOW IT WAS LOBBIED FOB.

HE Hon. Pratt C. Gashwiler, M. C., was, of course, unaware of the incident described in the last chapter. His secret, even if it had been discov-i ered by Dobbs, was safe in that gentleman's innocent and

MRS. HOPKINSON. honorable ha s, and certainly was not of a quality that Mr. Wiles, at present, would have cared to expose. For, in spite of Mr. Wiles' discomfiture, he still had enough experience of character to know that the irate member from Fresno would be satisfied with his own peculiar manner of vindicating his own personal integrity, and would not make a public scandal of it. Again, Wiles was convinced that Dobbs was equally implicated with' Gashwiler and would be silent for his own sake. So that poor Dobbs, as is too often the fate of ample but weak natures, had full credit for duplicity by every rascal in the land.

From which it may be inferred that nothing occurred to disturb the security of Gashwiler. When the door closed upon Mr. Wiles he indited a note whJch, with a costly but exceedingly distasteful bouquet—rearranged by his own fat fingers, and discord and incongruity visible in every combination of color—ho sent off by a special messenger. Then he proceeded to make liis toilet—an operation rarely graceful or picturesque in our sex, and an insult to the spectator when obesity is superadded. When he had put on a clean shirt, of which there was grossly too much, and added a white waistcoat, that seemed to accent his rotundity, he completed his attire with a black frock coat of the latest style, and surveyed himself complacently before a mirror. It is to be recorded that, however satisfactory the result might have been to Mr. Gashwiler, it was not so to the disinterested spectator. There are some men on whom "that deformed thief, Fashion," avenges himself by making their clothes appear perennially new. The gloss of the tailor's iron never disappears the creases of the shelf perpetually rise in judgment against the wearer. Novelty was tfie general suggestion of Mi*. Gashwiler's full dress—it was never his habitude—and "Our Own Make," "Nobby," and the "Latest Style, only $15," was as patent on the legislator's broad back as if it still retained the shopman's ticket.

Thus arrayed, within an hour he complacently followed the note and his floral offering. The house he sought had been once the residence of a foreign ambassador, who had loyally represented his government in a single unimportant treaty, now forgotten, and in various receptions and dinners, still actively remembered by occasional visits "to its salon, now the average dreary American parlor. "Dear me," the fascinating Mr. X. would aay, "but do you know, love, in this very room I remember meeting the distinguished Marquis of Monte Pio or perhaps the fashionable Jones, of the state department, instantly crushed the decayed friend he was perfunctorily visiting by saying: "'POD my soul, you here? Why, the last time I was in this room I gossiped for an hour with the Countess de Castenet in that very corner." For, with the recall of the aforesaid ambassador, the mansion had become a boardinghouse, kept by the wife of a departmental clerk

Perhaps there was nothing in the history of the house more quaint and philosophic than the story of its present occupant. Roger Fauquier had been a departmental clerk for forty years. It was at once his practical good luck and his misfortune to have been early appointed to a position which required a thorough and complete knowledge of the formulas and routine of a department that expended millions of the public funds. Fauquier, on a poor salary, diminishing instead of increasing with his service, had seen successive administrations bud and blossom and decay, but had kept his position through the fact that his knowledge was a necessity to the successive chiefs and employes. Once, it was true that he had been summarily removed by anew secretary, to make room for a camp follower, whose exhaustive and intellectual services in a political campaign had made him eminently fit for anything but the alarming discovery that the new clerk's knowledge of grammar and etymology was even worse than that of the secretary himself, and that, through ignorance of detail, the business of that department was retarded to a damage to the government of over half a million of dollars, led to the reinstatement of

Mr. Fauquier—at a lower salary. For it was felt that something was wrong somewhere, and as it had always been the custom of congress and the administration to cut down salaries as the first step to reform, they made old Mr. Fauquier a moral example. A gentleman born, of somewhat expensive tastes, having lived up to his former salary, this change brought another bread-winner into the field, Mrs. Fauquier, who tried, more or less unsuccessfully, to turn her old southern habits of hospitality to remunerative account But as poor Fauquier could never be prevailed upon to present a bill to a gentleman, sir, and as some of the scions of the best southern families were still waiting for, or had been recently dismissed from, a position, the experiment was a pecuniary failure. Yet the house was erf excellent repute and well patronized indeed, it was worth something to see old Fauquier sitting at the head of his own table, in something of his ancestral style, relating anecdotes of great men now dead and gone, interrupted only by occasional visits from importunate tradesmen.

Prominent among what Mr. Fauquier called his little family," was a black-eyed lady of great powers of fascination, and considerable local reputation as a flirt. Nevertheless, these social aberrations were amply condoned by a facile and complacent husband, who looked with a

lenient and even admiring eye upon the little lady's amusement, and, to a certain extent, lent a tacit indorsement to her conduct. Nobody minded Hopkinson in the blaze of Mrs. Hopkinson's fascinations he was completely lost sight of. A few married women with unduly sensitive husbands, and several single ladies of the best and longest standing, reflected severely on her conduct. The younger men, of course, admired her, but I think she got her chief support from old fogies like ourselves. For it is your quiet, self-conceited, complacent, philosophic, broad-waisted pater-familias who, after all, is the one to whom the gay and giddy of the proverbially impulsive, unselfish sex owe their place in the social firmament. We are never inclined to be captious we laugh at as a folly what our wives and daughters condemn as a fault our "withers are unwrung," yet we still confess to the fascinations of a pretty face. We know, bless us, from dear experience, the exact value of one woman's opinion of another we want our brilliant little friend to shine it is only the moths who will burn their two-penny immature wings in the flame! And why should they not! Nature has been pleased to supply more moths than candles. Goto! Give the pretty creature—be sho maid, wife or widow—a show! And so, my dear sir, while materfamilias bends her black brows in disgust, we smile our superior little smile, and extend to Mistress Anonyma our gracious indorsement. And if giddiness is grateful, or if folly is friendly—well, of course, we can't help that. Indeed, it rather proves our theory.

I had intended to say something about Hopkinson but really there is very little to say. He was invariably good humored. A few ladies once tried to show him that he really ought to feel worse than he did about the conduct of his wife and it is recorded that Hopkinson, in an excess of good humor and kindness, promised to do so. Indeed, the good fellow was so accessible that it is said young DeLancy, of the tape department, confided to Hopkinson his jealousy of a rival and revealed the awful secret that he (De Lancy) had reason to expect more loyalty from his (Hopkinson's) wife. The good fellow is reported to have been very sympathetic, and to have promised DeLancy to lend whatever influence he had with Mrs. Hopkinson in his favor. "You see," he said explanatorily to DeLancy, "she has a good deal to attend to lately, and, I suppose, has got rather careless—that's women's way. But if I can't bring her round I'll speak to Gashwiler—I'll get him to use his influence- with Mrs. Hop. So cheer up,- my boy he'll make it all right"

The appearance of a bouquet on the table of Mrs. Hopkinson was no rare event nevertheless, Mr. Gashwiler's was not there. Its hideous contrasts had offended her woman's eye—it is observable that good taste survives the wreck of all the other feminine virtues— and she had distributed it to make boutonnieres for other gentlemen. Yet, when he appeared, she said to him hastily, putting her little hand over the cardiac region: "I'm so glad you came. But you gave me such a fright an hour ago."

Mi*. Gashwiler was both pleased and astounded. "What have I done, my dear Mrs. Hopkinson?" be began. "Oh, don't talk," she said, sadly. "What have you done, indeed! Why, you sent me that beautiful bouquet. I could not mist».lrft your taste in the arrangement of the flowers but my husband was here. You know his jealousy. I was obliged to conceal it from him. Never—promise me now—never do it again."

Mr. Gashwiler gallantly protested. "No! I am serious! I was so agitated he must have seen me blush."

Nothing but the gross flattery of this speech could have clouded its manifest absurdity to the Gashwiler consciousness. But Mr. Gashwiler had already succumbed to the girlish half timidity with which it was uttered. Nevertheless, he could not help saying: "But why should he be so jealous now? Only day before yesterday I saw Simpson, of Duluth, hand you a nosegay right before him!" "Ah," returned the lady, "he was outwardly calm then, but you know nothing of the scene that occurred between us alter you teft" "But," gasped the practical Gashwiler, ••Simpson bad given your husband that contract—a cool fifty thousand in his pocket!"

Mrs. Hopkinson looked as dignifledly at Gashwiler as wa3 consistent with five feet three (the extra three inches being a pyramidal structure of straw-colored hair), a frond of faint curls, a pair of laughing blue eyes and a small belted waist. Then she said, with a casting down of her lids: "You forget that my husband loves me," and for once the minx appeared to look penitent. It was becoming but as it had been originally practiced in a simple white dress, relieved only with pale-bluo ribbons, it was not entirely in keeping with beflounced lavender and rose-colored trimmings. Yet the woman who hesitates between her moral expression and the harmony of her dress is lost And Mrs. Hopkinson was victrix by her very audacity.

Mr. Gashwiler was flattered. The most dissolute man likes the' appearance of virtue. "But graces and accomplishments like yours, dear Mrs. Hopkinson," he said oleaginously, "belong to the whole country." Which, with something between a courtesy and a strut, he endeavored to represent "And I shall want to avail myself of all," he added, "in the matter of the Castro claim. A little supper at Welcker's, a glass or two of champagne, and a single flash of those bright eyes, and the thing is done." "But," said Mrs. Hopkinson, "I have promised Josiah that I would give up all those frivolities, and, although my conscience is clear, you know how people talk! Josiah hears it Why, only last night, at a reception at the Patagonian minister's, every woman in the room gossiped about me because I led the? german with him. As if a married woman, whose husband was interested in the government could not be civil to the representative of a friendly power F'

Mr. Gashwiler did not see how Mr. Hopkinson's late contract for supplying salt pork and canned provisions to the army of the United States should make his wife susceptible to the advances of foreign princes but he prudently kept that to himself. Still, not fteing himself a diplomat, he could not help

saying: jggg "But I understood that Mr. Hopkl^»n did not object to your interesting yourself in this claim, and you know some of the stock

The lady started, and said:

Gashwiler started. Not so Mrs. Hopkinson, who, however, prudently and quietly removed her own chair several inches from Gashwiler's. "Do you know Mr. Wilesr she a^ked pleasantly. "No! That is, I—ah—yes, I may sa I have had some business relations with him," responded Gashwiler rising.* "Won't you stay?" she added pleadingly. "Do."

There was no introductory formula to Mr. Wiles' interview. He dashed at once in medias res. "Gashwiler knows a woman that, he says, can help us against the Spanish girl who is coming hero with proofs, prettiness, fascination, and what not! You must find her out." "Why?" asked the lady laughingly. "Because I don't trust that Gashwiler. A woman with a pretty face and an ounce of brains could sell him out aye, and us with him." "Oh, say two ounces of brains. Mr. Wiles, Mr. Gashwiler is no fool." "Possibly, except when your sex is concerned, and it is very likely that the woman is his superior." "I should think so," said Mrs. Hopkinson with a mischievous look. "Ah, you know her, then?" "Not so well as I know him," said Mrs. H. quite seriously. "I wish I did." "Well, you'll find out if she's to be trusted. You are laughing—this is a serious matter I This woman

Mrs. Hopkinson dropped him a charming courtesy and said, "C'estmoi!"

TTo be Continued,

THE OLD HAT AND THE NEW. Good-by, you dear old hat of straw, I've got to shoot you—that's the law, and yet, if I could have my way till winter comes with me you'd stay. You cool my head and shade my face, and keep, save windy days, your place. Straw hat! 1 love you, for you seem all that is left of summer's dream.

The girl you bowed to, yes, and" fanned who wore you, too, while was tanned forgets us both. Now you are shot. Alas! I'd like to share your lot.

Hello! you new eight-dollar tile. Come make my head ache just for style. Make me grow bald and heat my brain, and make me dread to see it rain. I've got to wear you though I die, for fear some geese will pass me by.

You make me envy all the girls who, 011 a mass of borrowed curls, pin something which they call a hat, too light to lay their tresses flat. You're only fit to hold a brick, and get, when in the street, a kick from men who, while they you

""Pte,

lBe you bot

THE GAZETTE: TERRE HAUTE, INDIANA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1886.

5,5

"Stock! Dear Mr. Gashwiler, for heaven's sake don't mention that hideous name to me. Stock, I am sick of it! Have, you gentlemen no other topic for a lady?'f

She punctuated her sentence with a mischievous look at her interlocutor. For a second time, I regret to say, that Mr. Gashwiler succumbed. The Roman constituency at Remus, it is to be hoped, were happily ignorant of this last defection of their great legislator. Mr. Gashwiler instantly forgot his theme—began to ply the lady with a certain bovine-like gallantry, which it is to be said to her credit she parried with a playful, terrier-like dexterity, when the servant suddenly announced, "Mr. Wiles."

,a:.

Mr. Gashwiler's prudence always got the better of his gillantry. "Not now," he responded in some nervousness. "Perhaps I had better go now, in view of what you have just said about gossip. You need not mention my name to this-er—this—Mr. Wiles." And with one eye on the door, and an awkward dash of his lips at the lady's fingers, he withdrew.

.„ctedsofter"

—II. C. Dodge in Detroit Free Press.

TAKING AERIAL PHOTOGRAPHS.

Instantaneous Pictures Perfect In All Details—Heliogravure Reproductions. M. Gaston Tissandier, in a recent number of La Nature, describes the effects mode by himself and his brother to pursue the subject of aerial photography. For this purpose they sought the assistance of M. Paul Nadar, whose father made the first attempts twentyeight years ago to take photographs from balloons. An ascent was made on July 2 from Auteuil, the descent taking place after a voyage of about six hours at Segrie, in La Sarthe, the length of the journey being about 180 kilometers. The maximum altitude exceeded 1,700 meters. During the voyage M. Nadar succeeded in executing thirty instantaneous photographs, a dozen of which are, M. Tissandier says, unquestionably the most perfect yet obtained from a balloon. These were taken at various altitudes, ranging from 800 to 1,200 meters. They were perfect in all details, but lose by production by heliogravure. Those taken at 1,200 meters it has been found impossible to reproduce at all, as they lose their fineness in the process.

The apparatus was placed in different positions on the edge of the car, sometimes being almost vertical, sometimes inclined so as to form with the horizon an angle varying from 25 to 45 degs. The time in each case l-250th part of a second. M. Nadar has enlarged some of the photographs with the new Eastman paper with remarkable success. It is obvious, from tl^e illustrations given in La Nature, that the photographs have suffered in the reproduction, the details being slightly blurred and indistinct, but the streets, principal houses, gardens, etc., are perfectly clear in the two pictures which were taken at altitudes of 800 and 1,100 meters respectively.— Foreign Letter.

A Marriage tottery.

The Chicago marriage lottery, anew matrimonial scheme, has been introduced into Texas. Every purchaser of a ticket is supposed to send an accurate description of his or her personal appearance, which is recorded opposite the number of the ticket issued. Recently William Carothers, a bachelor, of Atascosa county. Tex., 70 years of age, and worth at least $50,000 in sheep and lands, drew a ticket that had the description of Mrs. N. M. Kaiser, a 64-year-old widow of Stevens Point, la. Tbey corresponded, and the result was that he sent for her, and they were married in the Central hotel in San Antonio within twenty minutes after her arrival.— v*w York Sun.

NYE ON HIS TRAVELS. §g|

Describes a Hostelry Called the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I am writing this at an imitation hotel where the roads fork. I will call it the Fifth Avenue hotel because the hotel at a railroad junction is generally called the Fifth Avenue, or the Gem City house, or the Palace hotel. I stopped at an inn some years since called the Palace, and I can truly say that if it had ever been a palace it was very much run down when I visited it

Just as the fond parent of a white-eyed, two-legged freak of nature loves to name his mentally diluted son Napoleon, and for the same reason that a prominent horse owner in Illinois last year socked my name on a tall, buckskin-colored colt that did not resemble me, intellectually or physically, a colt that did not know enough to go around a barbed wire fence, but sought to sift himself through it into an untimely grave, so this man has named his sway backed wigwam the Fifth Avenue hotel.

It is different from the Fifth Avenue in many ways. In the first place there is not so much travel and business in its neighborhood. As I said before, this is whtere two railroads fork. In fact that is the leading industry here. The growth of the town is naturally slow, but it is a healthy growth. There is nothing in the nature of dangerous or wildcat speculation in the advancement of this place, and while there has been no noticeable or rapid advance in the principal business, there has been no falling off at all, and these roads are forking as much to-day as they did before the war, while the same three men who were present for the first glad moment are still here to witness its operation.

Sometimes a train is derailed, as the papers call it, and two or three people have to remain over, as we did all night It is at such a time that the Fifth Avenue hotel is the scene of great excitement. A large codfish, with a broad and sunny smile and his bosom full of rock salt, is tied in the creek to freshen and fit himself for the responsible position of floor manager of the codfish ball

A pale chambermaid, wearing a black jersey with large pores in it through which she is gently percolating, now goes joyously up the stairs to make the little postofflce lockbox rooms look ten times worse than they Qver did before. She warbles a low refrain as she nimbly knocks loose the venerable dust of centuries and sets it afloat throughout the rooms. All is bustle about the house. Especially the chambermaid. We were put in the guest's chamber here. It has an atrophied bed made up of pains and counterpanes.

In the guest's chamber.

This last remark conveys to the reader the presence of a light, joyous feeling which is wholly assumed on my part

The door of our room is full of holes where locks have been wrenched off in order to let the coroner in. Last night I could imagine that I was in the act of meeting, personally, the famous people who have tried to sleep here and who moaned through the night and who died while waiting for the dawn.

The chambermaid is very versatile, and waits on the table while not engaged in agitating the overworked mattresses and puny pillows upstairs. In this way she imparts the odor of fried pork to the pillowcases and kerosene to the pie.

She has a wild, nervous and apprehensive look in her eye as though she feared that some herculean guest might seize her in his great, strong arms and bear her away to a justice of the peace and marry her. She certainly cannot fully realize how thoroughly secure she is from such a calamity. She is just as safe as she was forty years ago, when she promised her aged mother that she would never elope with any one.

Still, she is sociable at times and converses freely with me at table, as she leans over my shoulder, pensively brushing the crumbs into my lap with a general utility towel, which accompanies her in her various rambles through the house, and she asks which we would rather have—"tea or eggs?"

This afternoon we will pay our bill, in accordance with a life-long custom of ours, and go away to permeat^fhe busy haunts of men. It will be sad to tearrlurselves away from the Fifth Avenue hotel at this place still, there is no great loss without some small gain, and at our next hotel we may not have to chop our own wood and bring it up stairs when we want to rest The landlord of a hotel who goes away to a political meeting and leaves his guests to chop their own wood, and then charges them full price for the rent of a boisterous and tempest-tossed bed, will never endear himself to those with whom he is thrown in contact.

We leave at 2:30 this afternoon, hoping that the two railroads may continue to fork here just the same as though we had remained.— Bill Nye in Boston Globe.

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