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/W "*T^ '*0*"^ BN ii fir ii i BALPffS BEVELAHON. A Cfarlataua Stacy. **I wish Christmas would not come round so quickly," sighed a pretby young woman who Eat by a fireside in -a very solemn, gloomy lodging house. "So do I, I can assure you," re sponded the pretty young woman's .husband, a tall, stalwart fellow, who was reclining lazily in an arm chair, **If you think that I enjoy Christmas i&y &t the governor's knowing that you are here alone with the boy, you are mistaken. I get as glum and gloomy as possible in fact, they are always teasing me now, and declaring that I'm in love, because I'm so quiet. I am quite well aware, however, that I've got the pleasantest part of the burden to bear you must have a very ^dull time of it, poor little woman." I don't like it, I confess," the wife replied, "for many reasons. Of course I should always like to have you with me, to begin with then, I do not like to remember how we are deceiving your father, who seems so kind and indulgent to you, Ralph, that I dare say he might not be as angry as you Imagine. It's very uncomfortable for me, too, as regards appearences, as the landlady has made several re marks, and looked outraged and scandalized when I told her that I was going to dine at home to-morrow, and that you were not. She muttered something derogatory to husbands of the present day. It does look odd now, doesn't it, for tomorrow will make the third Christmas day I've dined at home alone. However, now that I've got Eddie to keep me com pany, it's more cheerful." The husband made no reply imme diately. He was thinking, as he glanced at his pietty wife, and remembered how cheerful and uncomplaining she was, how willing to sacrifice herself for him, how devoted and attentive to him still, even after three years of matrimony, thaf few men would be content to endure such a life for the sake of a woman's love. It was all very well lor him. He went down to his father's bank day by day and lounged tl louqh a certain small amount of woik he went to his club, and had a cigar and some scandal, and then, if not engaged to dine out, re turned in the evening to his wife and little child. J^one of his friends knew that he way married They laughed and joked frequently about him, and had long since gi\ en up attempting to see him at his own place. As for his father and mother, they knew where he lived that is they knew of his chambers in town, one i oom in Bond streetbut they knew nothing of the quiet lodging where then* daughter-in-law was hid ing herself and boy, at their son's bid ^ding. iRaiph Yorke mused over these points one by one, thinking tenderly of his "little woman" who had already borne so much for his feake and who would ibe left helpless should he die suddenly v-with his secret untold, and at last a 3uddcn resolution arose in his mind, "Eva dailing," he cried, starting to his feet, "111 tell the governor She gasped for breath her utter surprise, and he continued- ''You see its no use going on like this year after year. He will only be all the Aioi'e angrv when he knows it And I think I would rather he did cut me oft wil a shilling than that I should iive on this style. I suppose I should always get some friend or another to help me, and I dare say I coulu make enough money to rub along somehow. You are not extravagant I am sure." "But, Ralph dear," pleaded his wife, 'don't do it tomorrow. Think how it will grieve your father, and let him have one more Christmas day in peace and happiness. Don't ha\ a ^quarrel and bitter words with him to 'morrow. Wait a week or so longer, and accustom you/self to the thought of bearing his displeasure. Don't be rash about it." "I don't think it can be said that I \have been rash about it," laughed Kalph, "since I have taken three years to think it over. No, Eva, I won't be rash but I'll see the gov ernor tomorrow morning, while my ^mother's at church, and we'll spend an honest Christmas day, at all events." So it happened that the next morn ing, just as Mr. Yorke, senior, had in stalled himself comfortably in his arm chair to have, perhaps, forty winks while his wife was away, as he gsuasd into the fire he heard his son's sii'oek at the door, and in a moment Ralph Yorke entered the room. "You're early my boy," said the old gentleman and Ralph answered, plunging into the matter at once* "I came earlv, father, because I *have something to tell you." "Eh, what?"" cried Mr. Yorke, look ing "keenly at his son "out of money are you?" "Oh, no, that's not it," murmured Balph. "Then you must be in love," said vthe astute old gentleman. "Well, no," Ralph answered, raising 1i!s head and looking his father full in the face "its not exactly that either. *IFhe fact is, father, I am married." "Well, what of it?" was Mr. Yorke's only comment. Ralph stared in utter amazement. HEs father seemed perfectly unmoved. "His face betrayed no sign of anger, and *tie was playing carelesslv with his -watch chain, as if Ralph had been dis vcussing his last dinner party. Present- \y he continued: 'It is a folly that other men have committed before you. Tnereisnot much to be said on the question. Was that all you had to tell me?" *I thought that was enough for one rmoTing said Ralph, disconsolately. .He was bitterly disappointed at his ^father's matter of fact view of the -proceeding he had hoped to be able to *piead with him to describe, in extenu ating his fault, Eva's beauty and de yqtion, and absorbing love for him .sej^nAveWId but there was no need ^Xfe iM% wiimi &&u JLJfi for pleading now, and Ralph had felt worse off than if his father had burst icto a torrent of reproaches. After pulling at his moustache restlessly for a few moments, he said: "Well, father, since you are not sur prised at my first installment,perhaps you will be equally prepared for a sec ond piece of information." "Yes, I dare say I am," replied Mr. Yorke, "What is it?" "Why, that I have a boy," mur mured Ralph. "Of course, of course," his father re marked. "There is nothing astonish ing in that, either. Really, Ralph, your marvelous news is very stale." "Stale, father?" gasped Ralph in ut ter surprise. "Ices. stale,"Mr. Yorke replied, look ing abstractedly in the fire as he add ed"I have no reason of course to doubt your word, but are you sure youjxe married?" "I should not be likely to make a mistake in the matter," said Ralph, with some pride. "I have been mar ried three years, father." "Have you. indeed?" observed Mr. Yorke. "Well, three years is a long time, and I hope you made no mis take about your wife. I hope she is a respectable kind of a girl. What was she?a shop girl or servant?" "She is as good and noble a wife as ever breathed," said Ralph, angrily, "and I can't hear any insinuations a?ainst her 'respectability.' Good-bye, father," hecontinued.takinguphis hat and buttoning his coat. "I can't stop to hear ail this about my little woman, and I'm sure,underthe circumstances, you can't want me to dme with you to-day. I'll go back to Eva. A Merry Christmas to you, father,and my love to mother." And before his father had time to answer, Ralph had lett the room, and in a second the street door closed up on him. Old Mr. Yorke sat quietly in his chair, a curious smile upon his face, and when his wife returned from church the only remark he made was "My dear, our boy has told me about his marriage." Ralph felt sorely wounded as he turned into the street, and commenc ed a vigorous walk, he hardly knew where. He started off at a brisk pace, and strode across Madison Park. By the time Ralph had turned back on his way homeward, he felt as if' 'every twopence he owed were four pence"to use a humorous illustra tion of depression. Pour o'clock was striking as he put his key into the door of his lodging house, he could not help lemembering how hopeful he had left in the morning As he made his way up the stairs to the draw ing-room floor they inhabited he heard voices in Eva's room. An indistinct sound of a gruff man's voice reached his ear, and he stopped in amazement. Could any of his iriends have dis covered his secret? Had any one of them dared to come and annoy her' At that thought he sprang up the re maining steps, and flung open the drawing-room door. Never did he forget the shock oi the sight that met his eyes. Eva sat on a sofa beside a lady whom he had first hardly recognized, and in his aim chair was his lather, with Eddie on his knee' Ralph stood in mute astonishment at the door of the room, and then Eva came across to him, and putting one gentle hand on his shoulder, said, simply. Ralph, dear, your good father and mother have come to say that they forgive us for our long secresy, and wish to befriends with us, and let us be son and daughter to bhem in every way. You see, your father loves his grandchild already." The tears weiein Ralph's eyes by this time, and as he came forward with outstretched hands to hfs parents, he exclaimed "You are, indeed, heaping the tra ditional coals of fire upon my head by your goodness. lean only say that I am ashamed of my reticence. I ought to have known yon too well to keep such a secret so long." "Not so very long, after all, my boy," said Mr. Yorke "it was not a secret so long." "Well, three years is a fair time, fa- ther," said Ralph "and I can assure you I am ashamed of every day of those three years." "But the secret was not kept for three years," laughed Mr. Yorke. "I have known it for a year and a half" "You have known it'" cried Eva and Ralph together. "Yes, I have known it for a year and a half," said Mr. Yorke, triumph antly, and evidently enjoying their perplexity "and, for the matter of that, so has your mother, Ralph." "But how?" cried Ralph. "I did not know anyone knew oi it." "I knew it through yourself, my boy," said Mr. Yorke. "You sent me a year and a half ago in one of your letters, by accident, I supposeput the wrong paper in the envelopea letter fromfrom" "From Eva," put in the owner of that name, timidly. "From Evathank you, my dear continued Mr. Yorke, with a nod to his daughter-in-law, "a letter which told me the whole story, and told me, also, this present address. Otherwise, how could I have got here today. I was very angry with you at first, Ralph not angry at your choice so much aa your want of confidence in us, and your want of respect for your wife in keeping the matter secret. But we got over the anger at last, your mother and I, and then we determin ed to wait and see how long you would be silent. We have waited a great many days and weeks, and months even, Ralph but, thank God. the good instinct came at last and I see before me now, I trust, a son with out a secret upon his conscience, a daughter without a trouble untold." "Father and mother," said Ralph, earnestly, as he held his young wife's hand in his, and raised it solemnly, as if taking a vow, "I cannot thank you in a flow of words. I can only hope that Eva and I may prove as generous and admirable to our boy as you have been to me." When they had kissed all around, 1^- hats and cloaks were put on, and the party drove away in high glee in the Yorke carriage to the Yorke home, much to the surprise and elation of the suspicious landlady, who had been appeased by the splendor of the vis itors. "Eva, darling," whispered Ralph to his wife at dinner, "was not Christmas day the best day for the revelation?" About the S6ns of Great Men. In an article on the sons of great "men the New York Sun says: Henry Clay was greatly disappoint ed in his sons. He had hoped that his mantle would fall on one of them, but he lived long enough to see that his hope was vain. Daniel Webster's son Fletcher was a quiet, somewhat scholarly gentleman, without a single suggestion of the possession of his father's great ability. He was a gal lant officer during the war, and was killed in service. No one, we believe it safe to say, of the men who so ably made history for us in the past, left sons who took up the work their la thers left off, ana carried it on with signal ability. The names we no hear and have heard for a generation are new names. None of them suggests the giants of old. The brilliant Tom Ewing's son is now a quiet lawyer in New York. Tom Benton's grandsons are youths of character, but of no conspicuous ability. Clayton, Dallas, R. M. Johnson, Wright and Marcy, the Clintons, these and many others have bequeathed none of their ability. Mr. Carlisle has two sons who are practising law in the growing town oi Wichita, Kansas. One of them ia thought to give promise of becoming a great lawyer. Mr. Blaine has three sons. One is in the railway business in Chicago one, Walker, has been able to adopt the habits and life of people who move in good society with dis tinguished success, but not as yet has he developed any of the wonderfully magnetic and stirring qualities that have made his father prominent. An other, young Jim, as he is called, ia thought to have some of Mr. Blaine's ability, though his exuberant youth ful spirits have not permitted him to make much manifestation of it, if it be so. That eccentric but gifted warrior, Gen. Sherman, had looked for a career the Shermans and Blaine are related, so that it is likely that to the Ewmg blood these able men can in a measure ascribe their gifts. Senator Bayard will probably be the last of his family to hold conspicuous public office, at least in consecutive line. His son is an amiable, conscientious younsrman, but with no taste at all for those pur suits which made his father, uncle and grandfather famous. Though appointed to the place of territorial secretary by President Cleveland, the office and politics generally are not congenial to young Bayard. Big: Fees of Bijr Doctors. All doctors do not get big fees, as the following from the Nesv Yor. Com mercial Advertiser shows, but some of the profession in New York city are paid well: There are at present, it is estimated, almost 5,000 physicians in this city, or one for every 300 of its inhabit ants, which is certa nly a bountiful supply. If the satirical saw, "The more doctors the more illness," be true, New York shouH be over running with patients. But it is not indeed, it is quite a healthful town, which may account for the alleged fact that the majority of our doctors hardly earn a decent livelihood by their prac tice, being often obliged to depend on credit. Many are constantly forced out of the profession in order to get a living but their places are regularly and rapidly supplied. Nearly 3,000 make, it is said, from $1,500 to $3,000 a year, and some 1,500 make from $3,000 to $5,000 only a few hundreds reached the last figures, and then they have passed middle age. Forty or fifty perhaps have incomes from $20,000 upward, and these are so constantly heard of that one niight infer that the amount is rather the rule than the rare reception. Most oi the physicians who are pecuniarily prosperous are what are called fash ionable physiciansthat is, they are in attendance on rich families of social position. Not a few of these get $50,- 000 to $60,000 a year, and occasional ly a handsome present from a million aire whose life they have saved, though it may not have been worth saving. Dr. Jared Linsly, who was with old Cornelius Vanderbilt during his last illness, received $25,000 for his service, and Dr. McLane, who went abroad with William Van derbilt toward the close of his life, and was called in after the railway mag nate had his last attack of apoplexy, is understood to have received some thing like $50,000. As doctors gen erally charge their patients, in special cases, what the patients are able to pay, and as often get nothing and ask nothing from the poor, there is no reason why the rich should not compensate them handsomely, par ticularly when they have the good luck to produce a cure. Generally speaking, however, a physician's life is very hard and trying. Wmm for his son which in other fields might virtues aud tastes. I don't think it equal his own, but the young man has given himself to the life of a priest in the chinch ot Rome. John Sherman has no children. Through the Ewings ces." While there islittle doubt that the re cent boom in Comstock mining shares was merely a gambling trick, the fig ures showing the profits derived from these famous mines are very impress ive. It appears from a table publish ed by the Virginia City (Nev.) Chroni cle that since 1874 the sum oi $42,- 630,000 has been paid in dividends. In 1875 $11,44=8,000 in dividends was distributed, and in 1876- the share holders received $12,960,000. The, with a wicked twinkle in his eyes profits declined until 1880, when they were but $540,000, and since then no dividends have been delcared. MR& BUBKE'S PUDDING. BY MABY N. PBESCOTT. 4* From Harper's Bazaar. It bad always been the' custom in Mrs.- Capulet's day to bake one of her best plum-puddings during Christmas week for the char-woman, Mrs. Burke, who was never likely to taste such a dainty -at other seasons. "Why Bhould we keep all the good things to onrselves," she used to ask, "eat plum-pudding whenever we fancy it, and this poor hard-working woman never know the taste of such a mor- sel?" It was also the custom of the house "to build," as Harry Capulet used to say, several of these rich pud dings at the same time they would keep for weeks or months without spoiling, and there they were, at a moment's no tice, if dinner company arrived unex pectedly on washing or ironing days, when it was inconvenient to concoct nice desserts. When Mrs. Harry Cap ulet took the management of affairs after his mother's death, her hus band's cousin, who had been regent during the interregnum, said to her at Christmas-time: "I hope, dear, you will continue Mrs. Burke's pud ding she has received it for so many years, she will feel injured, I'm afraid, unless you do." "Oh, certainly," answered Mrs. Harry, who was of an economical turn of mind "I shall give Mrs. Burke a pudding, but not one of these. What are you thinking aboutwaste all these delicacies on a char-woman?" "Gingerbread pudding, with a few raisins added, will satisfy her quite as well." put in Mrs. Harry's sister. "What they call a poor-man's pud- ding'" asked Mrs. Harry. "Yesthe very thing." "But, my dear," expostulated Sue Capulet, "Mrs. Burke will know she has been accustomed to the best. I have made it a principle to send her as good as I kept I hated to scrimp her at Christmas-time." "Oh, you're tooextravaaant.Cousin Sue. Besides, you give an old ignorant char-woman credit for all.your worth while to waste so much money upon her, a poor-man's pudding is more appropriate for the circumstan- "Noblesse oblige," insisted Sue. But Mrs, Harry laughed, and ordered the poor-man's pudding to be baked the same size as her own plum-puddings. "I can hardly tell them apart, cook has given them all such a rich brown. Surely the proof of the pudding is in the baking as well as the eating." But Sue sighed. "Mrs. Burke is En glish. You won't be able to deceive her about all English plum-pudding." "I'm not going to label ic, and she can take it or leave it. Beggars shouldn't be choosers, I've heard,*' cried Mrs. Harry, who couldn't keep her temper as well as she could keep other things. "That was a pudding'" said Mrs. Burke, one morning after Christmas, having come in for some work. Mrs. Harry looked at Sue. "I think," con tinued Mrs. Burke, "they grow nber every year, Mrs. Capulet. This one just melted in your mouth, it was too good for poor folks." "There"'cried Mrs. Capulet, as soon as Mrs. Burke's back was turned, "what did I tell you, Sue? After edu cating Mrs. Burke up to the English plum-pudding! This is all the good it does to educate the lower classes, you see." 'I hope it isn't blarney in Mrs. Burke," hazarded Sue. "A man convinced against his will, Is of the same opinion still." quoted Mrs. Harry. After this, whenever Sue and Mrs. Harry disagreed, her sister would say, "Remember Mrs. Burke's puddins, Sue." However, the matter faded out of their minds in time, and perhaps they would never have thought of'it again if Mr. Gus Blake hadn't hap pened to drop in upon them. Now Mr. Blake was somebody worth while in Miss Lily's eyes. She had met him here and there,- danced with him at germane, yachted with him, picnicked with him, lunched with him once he had even sent her some flowers she had some of them now, pressed in a book of love son nets. He was one of those cordial people who shake hands as if they were making love. Miss Lily was more than fond of his society she intended to marry him. But it was a pity that he should arrive on the only day in the week when they had a picked-up dinner. "There is one of the Christmas pud dings left, at any rate," said Mrs. Harry "all that will redeem the din- ner." Mr. Gus Blake was very affable as usual. He and Lily sang duets togeth er before dinner she had also to show him over the grounds, the view of the river, the eagle's nest they hunted for four-leaved clovers together, and she told his fortune with a daisy. He was complimentary and gallant. Lily felt as if a crisis was at hand. They met Sue, with her hands full of wild flow ers, coming from school. "A neighbor?" he asked with his most indifferent manner, as she just nodded and hurried by. "Oh, no. That is Sue Capulet, Harry,s cousin. She used to keep his house before he married." "Indeed." "Yes. Sne's rather prim in her ways, and opinionated,like all country peo- ple." "Ah! she must be very disagreeable." "Perhaps but one needn't to live with her to find out." "And you live with her?" "Yes. She will live here I suppose till somebody marries her." "Then she has a lover?" "I never heard of one." And yet she is not precisely ugly," No, not at all only commonplace," conceded Lily. The dinner progressed as far as the dessert. It was a picked-up one, to be sure but what could any one ex pect who came without announcing himself, Mrs. Harry assured herself. Mr. Blake was a famous diner-out be knew more, however, how to make himself agreeable over a dinner of herbs and then there was her English plum-pudding to top off with. How plump and delicious it looked as it came upon the table, and what royal odors it emitted! Sue cut it. with pride in her mien. She tasted it, and shot a quick glance at Mrs. Harry, but said nothing. The guest was qui etly nibbling at it and talking brilliant ly. Presently Lily, who had been listen ing to him.attacked it. She turned pale, and gave her plate a little angry push. Then Mrs. Harry, having helped every body else, settled herself to the enjoy ment of her pudding. Sue, regarding her, saw a look of consternation .th- er upon her face. She uttered an ex clamation as it she had been wounded. "Sue," she said, angrily, "you carried the wrong pudding to Mrs. Burke. This is the poor-man's pua- ding," regardless of her guest. "I carried the pudding the cook gave me," returned Sue. "No wonder Mrs. Burke thought it too good for poor folk!" put in Lily, sourly. They both glowered at Sue. They were obliged to repress their wrath be fore their guest, but they were too full of indignation to talk rationally or coherently. If Mr. Blake guessed that there was thunder in the air, he was ag factious and anecdotal as usual, ignor ed the atmospheric changes.and did not hurry away. But when he was oblig ed to take his train at last, the thun der-bolt burst about Sue's head. "So you carried your point after all my directions to the contrary," said Mrs. Harry "Mrs. Burke had her English plum-pudding in spite ol me." "I had nothing to do with it," re turned Sue, "it was as much a sur prise to me as to you." "Pity Harry hadn't been here," said Miss Lily, ignoring Sue's version. "If his wife isn't to be mistress in his house, it is time he knew it. A poor, man's pudding to set before Mr. Gus Blake one of the most fastidious ol men1", "I'm very sorry," said Sue. "It wasen't a nice pudding." "Nor a nice thing for you to do in another's house." "Mrs. Capulet, I had nothing what ever to do with it," protested SUP. "Susan Capulet, I don't believe a word you say." "And if I were a sister, you or 1 should leave the house." And so it happened that Sue packed her trunks, and Harry Capulet had such a version of Mrs. Burke spudding that he did not dream of recalling her. She went to a friend's house the city, who had promised to find her a situation. In the meantime Mrs. Capulet's ser vants confided the story of the plum pudding to Mrs. Burke herself, and Mr. Gus Blake's part in it. Mis. Burke felt it her duty to write Mr. Blake and repeat the whole altair, and through him to help sweet Miss Sue, who would never hurt a fly, out of her trouble. Mr Blake smiled over this letter. So they had made it hot tor Miss Sue' He had suspected as much. He went to call on his friend Mrs. Barnes and request her co operation. He was shown into the music-room, and met Sue. "So," he said, shaking hands, "thi is the result of Mrs Burke's pudding. What a lucky pudding for me and Mrs. Burke!" And then Mrs. Barnes entered. "I came," he said, "to consult you about the affairs of a friend of mine who has come to grief. Her case is even worse than that of the man in the South who burnt his mouth eat ing cold plum-porridge." The upshot of the consultation was that Sue had a position, a little later, where Mr. Blake was intimate enough to drop it at his pleasure and carry the governess off to the opera, or for a few hours' recreation in the Park behind his span and so it happened that one day Lily and Mrs. Capulet I received the wedding-cards of Miss i Susan Capulet and Mr. Gustavug, Blake, which was all owing to Mrs. I Burke's pudding. The Famous Fancy Diamon d. Many famous jewels have tragic his tories, the Sancy diamond among them. In a long article on famous gems the London Times says. The magnificent Sancy, which has long since passed out of the possession of the royal family of France, county centuries ot anecdote, and was an old, old stone when Baron de Sancy gav it to James II. of England. From James it passed to his friend and pat: T..,, viv ,wn. v, ron, Loui XIV., and to his descend. ants, until the duchess of Berry, at the restoration, sold it to the Demi doffs for 625,000 francs. It was worth a good million and a half ol francs when Prince Paul Demidoff ol San Donato wore it in his hat at a great fancy ball in honor of Count Walewbki, the minister of Napoleon III.and lost it during the ball! Everybody was wild with excitement when the loss was announcedevery body but Prince Paul Demidoff. Aftei an hour's search the Sancy was found under a chair. Long before Princ Paul Demidoff, and before even James II. of England, the Sancy was lost in much the same way, only in the melee of battle instead of the melee of aball The duke of Burgundy wore it in his casque at Granson in 1476, and lost casque and jewel on that fatal day. A soldier found the gem and sold it foi two and one-half francs to a priest, A few years later the precious baubl figured in th*crown of a king of Portu gal. Once it was very ingeniously concealed about the person of & corpse. A faithful retainer of th Sancys was on his way with it to a jeweler"^ shop, when he was attacked by thieves. He managed togulpdown his ourden before they gave aim his 'aath-blow. im^t1^iti"'~-" hJj^^^^M}""i^':"v,i THE EASTERN SITUATION. HOB. 8. 8. Cox oa tlie Probabilities of a Croat War. In an interview Hon. S. S. Cox American Monitor to Turkey, said the grandest educational institution in Turkey was the American College. The students of a principally Bulgar ians, with a sprinkling of Americans, Greeks and other nationalities. The lessons of popular and personal liber ty, as illustrated in America, are taught therein. Many of the alumni, especially from Bulgaria, have leaven ed the dough of Bulgarian politics. These students have been the master-minds in the recent move ments Bulgaria by which Prince Alex ander attained prominence. I am very much mistaken if Russia will not find it a very difficult matter W over whelm this popular element. Now how this question may be settled without envading Europe in a gigantic war is a difficult problem to solve. The English minister who foiled the attempt of Russia after Prince Alex ander's annexation of Eastern Rou meiia to Bulgaria in September, 1885, was Sir William White. When I left Constantinople the Russian and Ger man ambassadors who dread the coming of Sir William White, were moving heaven and earth and the powers under the earth to prevent his reception by the sultan. If Turkey should throw herself under the aegis of Russia she would pursue a suicidal policy if Russia is allowed to establish her influence in Bulgaria and Rou melia, the independence of Turkey is at an end. The first move of the czar's govern ment will be the election and confir mation of a prince entirely devoted to the czar and his policy. The next will be the appointment of Russian officers to all the important offices, both civil and military, and those who show the most offensive partisanship will get the best offices. When every thing is ready tor action Russia will find herself south of the Balkans on the undefended frontiers of Turkey, with a safe line of communication with Odessa by Borgess and Yorna. If Panathes treaty of San Stefana is signed it will not be followed by a treaty of Berlin. A Russian paper says that the Bulgarian army must be the advance guard of the Russian in the east. Bulgaria, whether she likes it or not, will* be compelled to follow impli citly the directionsgn en to her by the czar in all her relations with Turkey, I as well as with the other poweis. If Russia finds these interests confronted i by lesibtance on the part ot the Bui garian people, the consequences ii be disastrous to peace in the east, and i whatever is the end of the impending st niggle Tut key will come out ot it shorn of more temtoiy. The English press and the English people see with dismay the crumbling"ot Gieat Bri tain's influence The Duke of Edinburg has recently b^en received by the sul tan at his palace at Gildez but so long as England stavs Egypt those re ceptions do not mean much. It Russia, how eve r.cets her grip over the barrier of the Balkans, which she may do if she gets control of Bulgaria and East Roumeha, she has but one more step to take moidertoicachthe ancient town ot Adrianople, and it is I but another step to the splendid eapi tol on the Rosphorus. But will Ger many and Austria, siding with Eng land and Italy, allow this aggiessive advance? This ia the old,old problem, known as the "Eastern question," ever occurring, and never settled. The Crimean war failed to settle it It in volves a contest for supremacy in Asia. The Afghan dispute about boundaiies and the English power in India de pends on its solution. It may almost in a moment be determined by a bat tle. The vast sums which India and Russia, not to speak of other powers are spending on railroads and other communications in the east shows to some extent the magnitude of the com ing contest. The perfecting of arma ments by land and sea, all sorts of inventions for the wholesale destruc tion of life, the collection of vast bod ies of men upon these eastern frontiers, signify a conflagration unexampled in the history of man. th "T 7 "ff -^M- How the President is Guarded. The Boston Traveler says of the President's body guard: There never has been a president whose every movement is so guarded and whose person is so well protected as the present occupant of the White House The arrangements at the ex ecutive mansion have always been nearly perfect, but for some reason or other Mr Cleveland has taken pains to improve them, and, of course, his own security as well. Thousands of strangers annually visit the White House without ever being brought in contact with the president, and one ot the most rigid rules of the establish ment is that no one shall be allowed up stairs who is not upon business connected with the executive branch government. Twice each week hpresident I "'ii .i 'i i mttfii Or it\\ *t a comes down into the east room and shakes hands with the two hundred or three hundred people who are always there to greet him. Even then he is not un attended. The big, pleasant-faced gentleman who stands by his side is one of the best detectives in. the coun try. The slightest movement on the part of the throng neither escapes him nor the dozen or more mild-looking but strongly-built men who are scat tered through the crowd, hilly as vigil ant as be. At night there- aire guards inside as well as outside oft the build ing, while the head of the nation is in dreamland. The force ol watchmen and detectives at the White House is largely augmented by special details from the police force of the city, and it is safe to say that DO person of a sus picious character could set within a block of the mansion without being called upon for an explanation of his character and purposes. The White House is in telephonic connection, with police headquarters as well asthebar racks aud the navy-yard. If ifr were necessary probably 1,000 armed well disciplined men could be massed in its defense inside of an hour. With the present arrangements President Cleve land's friends need have no fear for his personal safety so long as he re* wains within the White House* f*M' 3.