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The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, October 01, 1896, Image 7

Image and text provided by Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83016758/1896-10-01/ed-1/seq-7/

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I had arisen very late, and was divid
ing my attention between the remains
of my breakfast and my newspaper,
with no very keen interest in. either,
when there came a light, hesitating
rap at my door,
"Gome in!" I called, without troub
ling myself to get up from my seat
The door opened, with a slow, waver
ing motion, and an odd-looking person
age entered the room, made me a very
low bow, and carefully closed the doo
behind him. He was an old man, sev
enty, at least, I judged, small of stat
ure and feebler than iMs age would
have warranted. His knotted, bony
hands shook with the constant, uncer
tain movement which ds the result*
rather, of weak mentality than of phys
ical disability. His long, grizzled *ck
and beard framed a pale, cadaverous
face, out of which looked a pair of
large, melancholy eyes in a sidelong,
deprecating fashion which seemed ha
bitual.
A dreadful shaky, woe-begone old
gentleman he really was an object to
excite laughter or pity, according to
the mood of the beholder.
I was not in a particularly expansive
frame of mind myself at the moment,
and it irritated me to see the old man
there, crooking his knees and wagging
his head, with what be evidently in
tended should be the most conciliating
of salutes.
"Well," said I, sharply, "what do you
want?" I thrust my hand into my
pocket in search of a small coin. 'Par
don me," huskily interposed the old
man, comprehending my gesture.
"You mistake my errand I wished to
ask if you were the Hon. Egbert Galla-
tinSenator Qflllatin?"
"I am Senator Gallatinwhat then?"
"Mymy mistress desires me to pre
sent you her card, and requests the fa
vor of a brief interview
I took the slip of pasteboard from his
trembling hands and read:
"Mine. Henriette Doncourt, Paris."
I breathed more freely. Mme. Don
court of Paris was not likely to be one
of those leeches which hang upon the
legislative body, called "lobbyists"a
species I knew only too well.
I put aside my paper, and, donning a
black ooat, signified to the old man
that I would follow him. With slow
and shuffling steps he led me along the
corridor and up three flights of stairs
to the fifth floor. The ancient fellow
was evidently very decrepit, or very ill.
With an impulse between pity and im
patience, I took hi armhow misera
bly thin it was!and supported him
with the vigor of my more youthful
muscles.
"Come, friend." said I, "you are evi
dently in bad health. Lean upon me,
and I will give you a lift."
He turned his gray, cadaverous face
upon me with an expression of amaze.
"God bless you for a kind-hearted
young gentleman," he muttered. "Per
haps I ought to tellbut, no, I am not
to blame. No, no, what can I do?"
With these enigmatic phrases be
paused before a door and rapped. A
woman's voice bade us "Enter-" and I
passed into a bjrndsome sitting room.
A lady, simply but exquisitely attired
in a morning robe of rich texture, rose
to welcome mo. During the second in
which I stepped forward to accept her
offered hand I received what might be
called a photographic impression* of
her. She was distinctly the most beau
tiful woman I had ever seen. She was
very tall, but her proportions were so
perfect that her height was not appar
ent. The dress she wore outlined and
accentuated the magnificent sweep and
curve of her noble ngure. Every move
ment she made, every gesture, was
marked by a certain sinuous grace,
which might have been termed leonine,
had it not been so exquisitely temi
nine.
Her face was in full keeping with her
figure. The complexion was clear and
pale, with no trace of color in her
cheeks, but of a waxen, transparent
hue, which suited well her dark auburn
hair, glimmering with flecks of red
gold as she moved the light of the
morning sun stealing between the mar-
"Don't Cto in There) Don't, Sir,
DonlJ"
row partings of the window curtains.
Her month would have been beautiiul
but for a certain firm compress
Ion, something hard and scornful,
which seemed not to belong to it natur
ally. Her eyes were very large, steel
gray and wonderfully brilliant. Such
was Henriette Doncourt, as I first be-
4* held her.
"It is kind of you, sir," she said, in
a low, musical tone, "to grant a few
moments of your time to an entire
|f
arranger."t
^h
I wha can I be of any assistance
to you, madame?" I asked, seating my
aelf near her.
"I hardly know how to explain my-
elf," said the lady, with downcast
QC (SflBSQWO
^^-riSf-
2
AM&hwr of'An\/HNTUR5 IN
ORUtLLO4_AN0
i
"Perhaps I had best speak frankly.'-'
She bent upon me the full glory of her
eyessuch eyes, certainly, I had never
seen before. "I ain American by
birth," she went on, "though I married
in Prance. At the death of my hus
band, M. Doncourt, I resolvd to re- i
repliemistake the beautiful woman.Galla- "Al
I ask of you is simple friendship. I
have ample means. But I am so utter
ly tilone in this great country, where I
expected to find the love of relatives
and old associates, that the sight of a
kindly face, now and again, will be all
that I can lequire."
'If mine will serve your purposes,
madame," I said, warmly, "you may
count upon it."
I am forty years old, and a cynic, as
far as the passions go but I left that
roomshall I call it in love? Well, at
least, as utterly befogged and fascinat
ed by that wonderful woman as ever
schoolboy was by the smile of a girl.
During the days that followed I vis
ited her frequently, and at every visit
^g| Injur before midnight As I drove i&
ward my hotel a fire enging dashed
past with clangor of bells, trampling^ of
hoofs and shouting of the rabble. The
sky grew lurid red over the housetops
as we approached our destination, and
finally the driver pulled up sharply.
"Can't take you any further,'Nbe
said. "Your hotel is afire."
And Henriette! I sprang out of the
I cab, pushed my way through the crowd,
thrust aside the policeman who would
have stayed me, and arrived in the
street before the blazing building. My
own rooms, upon the second floor, were
all aflame but I gave no heed to them.
My gaze was fixed upon Henriette's
windows, on the fifth floor. A thick
cloud of black smoke was pouring from
them. I caught a passing fireman by
thehi
the fascination grew and deepened up- i hag his arms in passinate appeal to
on me. In the beginning my passion those below. I recognized him it was
for her was tinctured by something of Gascoyne.
a doubt. I was oppressed withno, I "Jump, jump- No, don't jump!
cannot call it distrust but I was not Wait! Ladders- ladders! Hurry!
satisfied. There was a jar, a discord, a there! shove up those laddeis Great
want, somewherebut it was in my
self, I knew perfectly wellin my own
cold, suspicious, world-hardened na
tore. But faith grew with love, and
there came an hour when I gave my
self up completely and without ques-
Stepped Forward to Accept He Offered Hand
tion to that beautiful and gentle wo- raised to the window and even before
man, the first and only passion of my they fell into place a gallant fellow
tumultuous life. was leaping upward from rung to rung.
The old servant, Gascoyne, puzzled With my heart beating so fiercely that
me not a little. I had always felt a
profound pity for him, and had never
failed to speak kindly to him. Evi
dently I had won his regard. But I
could not understand his actions. Two
or three times, when I met him on the
stairs on my way to his mistress'
room, he had detained me, as if he
'meant to tell me something But his
courage seemed to fail, and he had
gone on, groaning and muttering to
himself in the imbecile fashion habitu
al with him.
Once, as I paused at Henriette's tremulous as I had known him. Gas-
door, before knocking, I heard the old coyne seemed now endowed with the
arm and shouted a frantic question
in4
ear
turn to the country of my birth. But who had escaped or who yet remained
now that I am here I find all my rela- in the burning edifice At this instant
fives and friends of the old days either a wild, universal shriek from the crowd
dead or dispersed. M. Doncourt used
frequently to speak of an old college
-companion, Egbert Gallatin, at the Ly
cee. Last night utterly broken-hearted,
lonesome, friendless, I saw your name
in the paper, and, to my great joy, dis
covered that you were a guest in this
hotel."
Tees," I responded, "I remember Don
court at the Lycee. We were not very i
close companions, it is true, but that
shall make no difference in the services
I shall endeavor to offer his widow.
CominaTMl me, ma dame."
"D not me, dear Mr.
tin,1'o
He shook his head, He did not know
He Stood With His
Before
Hands Him
Clashed
drew my attention to the burning build
ing again. There, in one of the win
dows on the fifth floor, stood a weird
figure it was that of an old man, way-
heaven- he will be burned to death
Where are those ladders?"
Amid such a confusion of cries, unit
ing in the awful roar of voices, the fire
men worked with desperate haste.
Ladders were fastened together and
it seemed as if I must suffocate, I
stood gazing dazedly at the fearful
scene before me.
"Too late! too late!" groaned the
crowd, as the flames began to shoot, in
spiteful, orange-hucd tongues, from the
top of the caset ent Suddenly the old
man disappeared. "He is gone! He is
gone!'
But just as the fireman reached the
sill, the weird figure appeared at the
window, ebaring in his arms the inani
ate body of a woman. Weak and
(vigor
man's voice, raised in loud, quavering
accents-
I tell you, I won't have it! He has down the swaying ladder.
been kind to me, and I won't have him
made ga^ie of!"
"I think you had better attend tosmoke
your own affairs," replied the clear,
ccld voice of Henriette. "I do not re
quire your advice. Leave me!"
The old man came stumbling out of
the. apartment As he saw me he
caught me convulsively by the nrm.
Don't go in ther.\" he whispered,
hoarsely." Don't, sir, don't! Go away! hands clasped before him, apparently
Don't see her again! I warn you, i heedless of the agonizing cries of "the
she"
Gascoyne, who is there?" asked the
calm, sweet voice of his mistress from
within. The old man seemed actually
to collapse. His hand dropped from
my sleeve, and his head drooped in
his habitual attitude of humility.
"Mr. Gallatin, madame," he respond
ed, hastily. "Why don't you go in, sir?
She expects you."
*1 am afraid I shall have to pension
poor Gascoyne," she said, gently, as I
entered and seated myself near her
"He grows more eccentric and trouble
some every day. Yet I shrink from do
ing so. has been in my family
since my mothe* was a young girl."
I was called away from the hotel the
same night on sudden and urgent busi
ness. During the journey I came to a
fixed resolution. If Henriette Doncourt
would accept me, I would make her
my wife. And I had hopeyes, if my
experience for women went for any
thing, she loved me. The old haze of
doubt had -cleared away from my
mind. There was no longer a discord
ant note in the anthem of love which
my heart sang.
of a giant He passed his burden
I to the fireman, who bore it rapildly
For a moment, the forms of rescuer
and rescued were hidden by a cloud of
that had eddied across them
then I beheld them at,ain. near the
ground. But meantime, either weak
ened by the double weight, or attacked
by the flames, the upper portion of the
ladder had bent sideways, and the old
man's escape was cut olf.
He stood at the window with his
crowd beneath. Th brilliant light
falling upon his aged features revealed
them transfigured. To me, at least,
there seemed something almost holy,
certainly sublime, in the calm resigna
tion of the smile with which he gazed
downward. Thenoh! I could not
bear to lookthere was a roar, a
crash, a volcano of flame and sparks
and old Gascoyne had sealed his sacri
fice.
I found Henriette Doncourt reclining
upon a sofa in temporary lodgings. I
was shocked at the awful change
which had taken place in her. Her
face was ghastly her eyes hollow,
wild, gleaming with fever. Her whole
aspect was that of one standing peril
ously near the verge of madness, r&l
"You have come," she cried, as I ap
proached her couch, "you have come to
hear my confession. Egbert Gallatin,
do you know what I am? I will tell
you. An adveturess. Yes, just that
Trading upon my beauty, I have made
men my game. I should have married
you, because you are rich, and because,
yesshe smiled drearily"I almost
think I loved you. i meant to make
before you but, who knows?there Is
always a seam in the stoutest armor.
But if you desire revenge, listen-" She
paused and drew her breath heavily.
Old Gascoyne, the servant,the drudge,
who gave his life for mine last night,
was- fy$$ ifr i$f$n
She sank back upofi^er^lllow* and
lay looking up at me,
ejes. a moment!
'My father!"
She pointed mutely to the door, and,
without a word, I went.St. Louis
Globe-Democrat, JJ*?^* %%&? *j&gi
SPOKE FROM A FULL HEART.
The Words "Were a Tribute to* a
Wife's Faithful Companionship.
The Illinois Central train was half a
hundred miles from Chicago, headed
for the city, and at a little station an
old farmer came aboard. He was a
little, weasened man, with a sensitive
mouth hah? concealed by an iron gray
beard. His ill-fitting clothes were evi
dently his most uncomfortable best.
He slid softly into a seat occupied by
a grave stranger, reading a newspaper.
Two or three times the old man turned
his face toward the brown flying land
scape. The stranger was struck with
the troubled expression and glanced
wistfully at his companion.
The latter spoke at last with a some
what strange huskiness in his voice.
"I am going to the city for the sec
ond time in my life," he said half
startled at his own words.
"Yes."
"Thirty years come July I went
there for a wedding suit and I am(
going back there to-day for a coffin and'
a shroud for the little woman that mar
ried me.
"You don't know what it is, mister,
to live and work 'longside a woman
for thirty years, day in and day out,
to find her always patient and willing
and working, and the,n leave her lay
ing dead and cold with her worn-out
hands crossed on her breast It was
just a little after the turn of the night,
and nobody but me was watching
when Maggie kinder woke up
'David,' says she, 'it's restful, so
restful, and I am so tired.' And so she
went to sleep again and waked up in
eternity. You know, stranger, these
words of hers has set me to thinking.
Poor, tired soul I never knew how
much she needed rest We never onee
thought of it while we were working
and skimping and saving, trying to lay
up something for the children. She
never had any pleasure she never took
any holidays or visited the. other
women. She raised the children and
slopped the pigs and milked the cows
and churned and cooked for harvest
hands. I never knew or thought how
she did it all with those poor crossed
hands of hers.
"Some folks say it won't do any
good, mister, but I am going to see
that she is put away in something rich.
We wasn't skimping and saving for
thirty years for this, but I'm gomg to
have the best money can buy. She's
earned it, God knows."St. Louis Re
public.
Most Wheels Are Over Oiled.
So many bicyclists have been ob
served recently suffering from clogged
chains, that a word of advice, which
has been given before in this place,
may, with propriety, be repeated. Oil
the chainnothing is more necessary
but be sure not to have it wet Each
link should be thoroughly lubricated
and then the chain should be rubbed
dry. No amount of rubbing, it should
be remembered, can remove the oil
from the parts between the links where
it is needed, and not a particle of oil
is required on the exterior surface.
The drier that is the better. The oil,
if exposed, picks up and holds dust
and adds greatly to the friction. The
same advice applies to all oiling. If
so mueh is put in the bearings that
some overflows and it is not wiped
off, dust will gather at the spot, and,
even in the best made bearings, some
of it will almost certainly work into
the balls and make trouble. And even
if it does not get so far, the bunches
of dust so accumulated detract from
the^ppearance of an otherwise well
groomed machine and render the clean
ing after a run twice as difficult as it
need be. The fact is that more wheels
are overoiled than underoiled. "Carry
ing a canary," as the wheelmen call
riding with a dry bearing that screech
es, is not half so common as a dust
buried bearing. Of course, of the two,
the^ latter is preferable, but no rider
need have either.New York Post.
Chnn&es of Sivty Years
Only sixty years have passed since
the boys of Eton ventured to beg that
pipes might be laid in some of the
school buildings so that they need not
fetch water from the pumps in the
freezing winter weather, and the peti
tion was promptly rejected with the
scornful comment that "they would be
wanting gas and Turkey carpets next!"
At Winchester, another big English
school, all the lads had to wash in an
open yard called "Moab," where half
a dozen tubs were ranged round the
wall, and it was the duty of one of the
juniors to go from tub to tub on frosty
mornings and thaw the ice with a can
dle. Comfort was deemed a bad thing
for boys, lest they should grow up
dainty and unmanly. "Cold!" said Dr.
Keate, a famous headmaster of Eton,
to a poor little bit of humanity whom
he met shivering and shaking in the
hall. "Don't talk to me of being cold/
You must learn to bear it, sir! You
are not at a girls' school!"St. Nich
olas. i
A Laugrh on Lord Palmer at on.
Lord Palinerston on one occasion took
the chair" at a meeting in connection
with the University College, London.
He was not so familiar with the sort
of speech expected in such a place as
he would have been at Westminster,
and, meaning to adapt his rhetoric to
the occasion, began, very appropriate
ly: "It has been said that a little
learning is a dangerous thing but it is
better thanbetter thanbetter than."
Here he came to a dead stop.
Lord Brougham, who sat beside the
speaker, came to the rescue, speaking
with his pecular nasal twang"Better
than a great deal of ignorance." This
of course brought down the house, and
during a volley of laughter and cheers,
Lord Palmerston recovered the lost
thread of his speech, and finished with
his usual ease and fluency.
CHILDREN'S ENVIRONMENT.
In This Age W Ar Rich in Onr
Power to Promote Little Folks' De
velopment. Among the silent revolutions of the
nineteenth century one of the most sig
nificant is that which has* taken plaee
in the nursery. The study of the child's
mind has become a cult. Its mysteries
have been searchingly investigated and
its development carefully considered./
The good results of the kindergarten
system have proven the beneficent ef
fect of early discipline, and its work
is now begun in the nursery.
The effect of environment on the
consciousness of a young child is in
stanced in a fact noted in the recently
published life of Sonya Kovalevsky,
the famous Russian mathematician.
Her Interest in numbers was first
awakened by the wall paper hung in
her nursery. Her country home be
ing remote from house decorators, the
children's nursery was papered with
leaves from an unbound copy of a
mathematical treatise by this acci
dent Sonya was instigated to an intel
ligent inquiry into the meaning of geo
metric symbols and from this study
she was led into the field of higher
mathematics. The charming and eas
ily procurable Kate Greenaway wall
papers, with designs from the epic of
childhood, Mother Goose, not only fos
ter artistic perceptions in the child's
mind, but stimulate the imaginative
faculties through their object lessons
of the droll personages that invariably
captivate the childish fancy.
The influence upon the mental trend
of a child of the material objects by
which it is surrounded, has been rec
ognized for some time. The black
board has become a necessary adjunct
in the nursery. With colored crayons
and a bit of chalk one can produce
upon its black surface a comprehensive
Meisterschaft expression of all lan
guages and all arts. What a blessed
and royal road to knowledge, that a
child can by unconscious cerebration
enter into the strongholds of the alpha
bet, the multiplication table and the
rule of three! We of this age are rich
in our power to promote the develop
ment of children. Never was educa
tional material so cheap, so suggestive
and so variedThe Delineator.
Designed for a Matron.
There is no more useful adjunct to
the winter toilet than some*sort of a
fanciful waist, not silk necessarily it
may be of some airy, light stuff over
silk (one grows so weary of uncovered
silk) or of some dainty cloth, prettily
trimmed. These pretty waists are an
item in which the middle-aged woman
may delight and something which gives
her a wonderfully youthful look.
One of these dainty waists, made for
a sweet-faced woman of 50, whose
frame of silvery hair sets off the
brilliancy of her jcoloring, is made up
of pale violet chiffon drawn smoothly
over a body of deeper toned violet
silk just to soften the color. It is
rather blousey at the front, though
drawn in tightly at the back, and
fastened under a twist of violet velvet
finished with two small pointed bows.
All across the waist, both back and
front, are rows of butter colored lace,
three inches apart, set on frill fashion,
so as to stand out. The full bishop
sleeves are treated in the same fashion,
resulting in an unusually pretty bodice.
A wide, stiff stock of velvet sets off
the neck.
This mode of trimming is becoming
pnly to a figure which has retained
its slender girlishness crosswise lines
Will never answer for the form given
over to embonpoint, but even for such
the bodice may be trimmed, and with
frills, too, only they inust be place 1
in perpendicular lines from throat to
belt, and instead of the belt of velvet
A Dainty Waist.
or ribbon, lengthen the bodice into a
point, both back and front
The Charm of a. Plain Face.
Toltaire once wrote a couplet to the
effect that there never was an ugly
woman with a good set of teeth, nor a
pretty woman with a bad set It is a
fact that nothing adds a greater
charm to an otherwise plain face than
nice, even teeth. It is a mother's dutv
as soon as her children's first teeth
show signs of decay or coming out, to
take them to the dentist and have then?
teeth attended to. In most cases irreg
ularities can be put to right when the
second teeth begin to make their ap
pearance, which it is difficult and pain
ful to do when the teeth are more firm
ly fixed in the jaw.
Early decay in the teeth* is a sign of
delicacy and an unhealthy state of the
stomach, which may not infrequently
be alleviated by proper medical atten
tion. Among the many causes of in
jury to the teeth we may mention the
taking of very hot food and drinks,
and strong acids are also vejry inju
rious. Sugar is said to be bad for the
teeth this is true, If it is taken in too
large quantities, as the excessive use
of sugar is sure to disorder the stom
ach and engender an acid which is
very injurious to the enamel.
A good, sound set of teeth are indis
pensable to health, and those who val
ue good digestion, and consequently
f^^ "Butterfly" Sleeves "PSf
The most vagrant fancies are en
couraged in the new sleeves showm
on gown or bodice. Especially is this
so when they are intended for house
wear.
Princess Maud had among her bridaL
gowns a frock with a very notable
bodice, whose sleeves are copied far
and wide, because of their chic. I
was called a "Butterfly" bodice, and
certainly the sleeves resemble a but
terfly, with their wings setting out
each way. In the gown sketched, the
skirt is a whirling mass of pretty folds
of creamy white alpaca, made to fit
closely about the hips at the front-,
The Newest in Sleeves
The tight, round bodice of white taP
feta is overlaid with smoothly drawn
white mousseline de soie, caught about
the waist by a deep girdle of violet
velvet, wide at the back and narrowed
into a tiny belt at the front and fas
tened with a wide bow.
A stock of the velvet is folded about
the throat and caught into a butterfly
bow at the side.
The sleeves are snug from wrist to
near the shoulders, made of the white
taffeta, closely wrinkled over with
White mousseline de soie and finished
at the wrist by a deep, soft frill.
From the shoulders flare an odd puff
of the white alpaca, caught up to form
butterfly wings and fastened through:
the center by glistening rhinestone or
naments.
Where Sketches Ar Held.
An easel for a "den" where there
are hosts of valuable engravings and
sketches of all sorts to take care of
will be found worth its weight in gold.
5
or Valuable Drawings
It need not be cumbersome, and may-'*
be made of some handsome wood, carv
ed by hand, or treated in some plain,
finished manner. The sketch shows
such an easel, having an upper shelf
holding a framed sketch.
The lower shelf, or pocket, may be
lined softly to protect the drawings,
aed made big' enough to hold a large
number. This will protect them both
from dust and light.
Household Hints
To save pieces of soap, make a num- 4
ber of flannel bags, six or eight inches-_
square, and put all pieces of toilet"
soaps left on the washstands into them, i
They may be used in the bath, and are
particularly nice for children.
When a button comes off, do not neg-^
lect to sew it on at once. One button,
missing off a glove gives a woman am
untidy appearance. It is always best
to sew the buttons on new gloves
securely before wearing them. ~i
*i
To preserve bright grates or fire-ironsj
from rust, make a strong paste of fresh:
lime and water, and with a fine brush
smear it as thickly as possible all over
the polished surface requiring preser
vation. By this simple means all the
grates and fire-irons in an empty house
may be kept for months free from harm
without further care.
Be sure to have your mattresses not
only turned daily, but aired for at least
an hour. Each child as it becomes old
enough should be taught to remove the
covers from the bed daily and place
them in a current of air, and also to
upturn the mattress.If you do not re
quire the child to make her own bed, ^5
at least require her to air it. IT
A hole in a granite saucepan or ket
tie may be mended by using a. copper
rivet These rivets, which come in sev
eral sizes, may usually be bought from
the harnessmaker. The rivet is put iu
the hole and over the end of it is put
a copper washer, which is a part of it.
flatten the end of the rivet with a tack
hammer and the kettle is good for ser
vice for many days. When the enamel
is chipped from a spot in the bottom
of a saucepan, the weak spot may be
re-enforced in the same way.
The zwiebaeh or twice-baked breafc
of the Germans is now sold at a num
ber of large bakeries in more than
one city, where it is the favorite foocfc
of the dyspeptic who is lunching con
scientiously. This bread, which is*
slightly sweet, is toasted through, not
simply browned a little on each side
and moist in the center. That which is
bought prepared is more palatable if
heated again in a slow oven. It is.*-^*
an excellent food for children. It may^^g
be heated and spread with jam in the
place of cake, or crumbled in milk, ow?
eaten cold and plain.
few^

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