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rTHE CHRISTMAS FOLLIES 5 ' ‘ • ‘ ; *•/ .. By Zona Gale Jav J V , , ..a Sto Christmas,” said Yvonne. *4 A “I’ve given to everybody T ./ \ know, .and dozens that I 1 \ don't know. 11l Rive some more, if you like. But don’t ask b* to go to a Christinas tree." “Oh, come on.” said Billo. “fictionalize 0,1 that,” said Yvonne, to‘"prove that she knew the word. “Because.” Billo explained. “I love you and a Christmas tree is not a Christmas tree without you.” “Isn’t he foolish. Cyril?” Yvonne demanded, chin raised, hands clasped. Cyril... smoked on and said: "He s hopeless, that bird. I’m with you on the tree, Yvonne. There as boring as family dinners.” “You must remember,” said Billo, “that you're moderns and I'm a regu lar. •I* love 'em. They make me feel -——V he regarded a fountain —“they maka me feel like Christmas,” he completed. Xjupre was nothing of Christmas in the room where they sat—-in the sun room of the apartment of Yvonne's aunt, Miss Caroline Claude. The floor. tiled ! in green, was cut by the little fountain and tropical plants and blooming boxes mhde Sufhmer for the eve. as the mosaic-topped radia tors made it to the air. A blue macaw' sulked on an enameled perch and on a tray of lacquer, chosen at the rtforhent, a tiny marmoset nibbled and made faces. “I’d rather stay here,” said Yvonne, “and talk to you, Cyril. Billo. of course.* wdll go to the Oxfords to see the tree.” “I' guess I’ll cal! for you," said Billo; “and see if—made desperate by the prospect of an evening with Cyril —yon won't come along." “Nothing moves mertrom this place tonight,’*said Yvonne. The’ two- glass doors opened and Klsa appeared. Elsa was IS and wore blue check and a white apron and carried a broom. She was Yvonne’s aunt's maid and ruled Yvonne, five years her senior, with a pretty authority. “Will you all please go somewhere else, Miss Yvonne?” said Elsa. "I want to sweep here. And a man is goihg to wash the windows.” “Elka.” said Billo. "I’ll bet you’re going to a Christmas tree tonight.” “Oh, ‘yes, sir,” said Elsa, “a grand one, at my cousin’s new* house.” “Whole family going to be there?" Billo Inquired. uOh,- yes, sir—aunts and uncles and all kinds of cousins,” said Elsa. “New,- see!” said Billo to Yvonne, as he 5 followed her to the dinning room. - “Have some Christmas spirit, woman.? ~* * * * VVONNE sat in a blue velvet chaise longue and held forth. She felt that ahy 'one Wishing to hold forth must "haVte. at the least, a blue velvet background. "Christmas,” she said, "is on my calendar for other people—but I won’t pretend any more. I’ve pretended for years; * I’ve rejoiced over gifts of books that I'd already read and even ow'ned; over handkerchiefs I didn’t need--and hose in shades I hated and doo-dabB I didn’t want in the bouse. Now I’m done. I’ve told all my friends. All I’m doing this year is to send stuff, to the charity Christ ma,ses. I will not pretend any longer. And I won’t go to trees. I’m done with Christmas trees. I’m off Christ mas for keeps." ** “Me, too,” said Cyril. “I’ve said to my-whole family, ‘lf you want a tres and all that rot. count me out.' I’m no bambino, and I’m no greedy grown-up either.” “Anyway, *' said Yvonne, “Aunt Caroline is doing Christmas for the race. She’s crazy with Christmas. I’m. not needed." "How are you two going to put in the inquired Billo, “while w r e common folks gorge ourselves with sugar plums?” “I’d thought of that,” said Cyril. "How would it be if you married Tfie on Christmas day, Yvonne —to pass the time?” “As well,” said Yvonne, without looking at him, "on Christmas as any ether time." “Meaning?” ‘T.doh’t care much for the day for any purpose.” Rambler Finds Records of Executions in Old Capitol Prison Elusive THB RAMBLER has found but orte record of the execution of a death sentence at Old Capitol 'Prison. The victim was Capt. *' Henry Wlrz, November 10. 18CT. James Croggon wrote in 1907 of Old Capitol Prison: “And here not a few executions, some by gallows and others by shooting, occurred.” I believe Mr. Croggon right, and that I have not come upon the documents In which these hangings and shoot ings were recorded. In a book print ed in 1803 the author, Dennis A. Ma honey, charged that two Old Capitol prisoners were shot dead by guards, and he. gives the names of the men killed as Jesse W. Wharton, son of Dr.* Wharton of Prince Georges County, Md., and Henry Stewart, son of Dr.* Frederick Stewart of Balti more. Word came to me that a kind woman living In the remodeled build ing, First and A streets northeast, which was the. Old Capitol, sometimes strews flowers on graves in the gar den behind and beside the building. That graves were in the Old Capitol garden was news to me, and I thought that if graves were thbre they might he marked, or that the kind woman who puts flowers on them might know whose graves they were. The property is owned by the National "Woman’s Party. The front door had the sign. "Walk in." At the desk and In the hall before it and the office behind it wore several women, young, good to look at and modishly dressed. WAX-MAKING INSECTS. /"\N the border line between China and Tibet there Is a native Indus try that d* not only novel in many re spects, jbut involves a pilgrimage -of great lshgth each year. This Indus- f* try cona&ts'ln the breeding of insects’, that raise wax. The wax is employed in various parts of China for the mak ing of temple linages and candles. These curious Insects are about the size and shape of shoe buttons. Their most peculiar characteristic is that they do not secrete the wax in their Vdrthplaces. Accordingly, about May each year the natives take them from til* branches of the trees where they were born and convey them many mile* across the mountains. They are carried to a part of the country wherein grows the- flowering ash. upon which the insects delight to feed and to depostf'the wax. It Is a strange procession that pro ceeds from the ‘ Chien-Charig Valley every Spring. ;JEach porter carries two bamboo baskets fastened together with curved sticks. These fit over his shoulders, one basket being before and the other behind. The man’s bur den consists of gourds containing the Insects, which are wrapped in leaves i from ti*e wood oil tree. The females i Yvonne, One of Those Martyrs, Was Throu&h., Sacrificing Herself “Then.” cried Billo, with an air of joyous surprise, “marry me on one of the other days.’ There are so many." Yvonne listened Intently. , “Do you hear anything peculiar overhead?’’ she inquired. “In my aunt’s room?” The strange sounds went on—tap, shove, tap, shove, and a, scrape “Like a new' dance,” said Cyril judicially. They toiled up the graceful stair of the duplex apartment. Their laughter was cut by an inexplicable and shrill scream. The door of Miss Caroline Claude's room came open, and Elsa stood there. “Oh. Miss Yvonne,” she cried, “come quick. She’s tied to the Mor ris chair.” She stressed “Morris” as if, as Billo said later, a Morris chair were the very worst kind to be tied to. It was a strange interior presented by Miss Caroline Claude’s pretty lav ender room—drawers upside down on the floor, boxes upside down on the bed, and Miss Caroline Claude . her self bolt upright in her Morris Chair, to which her waist and her wrists were securely tied. The telephone was ringing, with. that air of w’eary violence assumed by the telephone which has been ringing for some time quite against its will. “Answer that telephone, please,” said Miss Caroline Claude, “and if they say they can’t have the set marked by tonight tell them they’ll have to.” “But, Aunt Caroline—” cried Yvonne, -i "Please do as I ask you,” said Miss Claude, crossly. “There—l knew' It! Tell them—that’s it. Tell them .... Oh, they say they will do It, don’t they? That’s much better.” “Shall—shall I untie you, Miss Claude?” inquired Cvrii Burch. Miss Claude appealed to Billo. “What do you think?” she wanted to know, with the grin which they all loved, from one corner of her mouth. “Don’t be an idiot, Cyril,” Billo supplicated. “Got, a knife? No? Well, take these embroidery scissors and loosen up her other hand.” "But, Aunt Caroline,” cried Yvonne. “Who did it? Who—” “That was Blucher, w'asn’t it, on the telephone?” asked Miss Caroline. "Elsa —is anything the matter?” Elsa was sobbing. “I thought I heard something,” she related, ‘‘and I come in that door . . .” “Yes, Elsa, I was right here at the time,” Miss Caroline reminded her. “Thanks' very much, and get your sweeping done, please, before lunch.” Elsa gasped, gaped, sobbed once for good measure, and departed. "yvonne,” said her aunt, "could you go down this morning and buy tw r o presents for me that I’ve overlooked?” Billo took a firm stand. "Miss Claude,” he began, with character, "I don’t want to interrupt you, but may I call your attention to the fact that you’ve been robbed?” “What? Oh, he didn't get any thing.” Miss Claude assured him. "At least, only that teakwood case— he made off with that. But I didn’t have anything in it but some beads, and beads don’t become me. And I never did like teakwood." “But are you sure,- darling,” cried Yvonne, "that he didn’t get anything else?” "Quite sure," Miss Claude assured her. “I watched him the whole time. He wasn’t a very good burglar.” . “But why didn’t you scream?”'de manded Cyril Burch. -• “As Cyril would?” Billo completed it. • “What? Why, I was gagged or whatever they call it disgusting word, isn’t it? I worked that off—the muscles of my jaws are in very good condition. Yvonne, what I want you to get is two silver-backed—” Billo todk Miss Claude by the arm. “Miss Claude,” he said, as to the deaf, "you have been robbed. It is customary in such cases to call the police.” ' ' * She glared up at him. “Haven’t I enough to do,” she inquired haught ily, “without bringing the police into the house?" Cyril Burch took a hand. "But, Miss Claude,” he said, his excitement still very little abated, “you ought to try to apprehend the thief.” They were brisk and busy women. 1 One was working at a ledger, one was going over mail just lia’nded her, one was coming quickly to the desk to put a question? and one was going smartly dow:n the hall on an errand. When the pretty blond at the office i desk 'took time to notice me I said: [ “I’d.like to talk to the Janitor.” That seemed an unusual request, and some * of the ladies looked up. It seems - that the janitor does not have much - company. “The janitor!" said the young lady in surprised soprano, as [ though she hadn't quite got the ques , tion. “Yes,” said the Rambler. “I > want to see him about the graves in f the back yard.” "Graves in the back i yard! Graves in. our back yard!” said i several sopranos and contraltos, and - ! the ladies left the ledger, the mail and the errand and came around me. 1 “Graves In this back yard!” came in - rising tones. Ladies I had not seen , before came from the parlor to take i part in my reception. “What graves?” - said the pretty blonde, and there was a glint in her brown eyes as tlibugh 1 they said: “'Will somebody please t phone Dr. Hickling to bring the t wagon?” i Fair women pressed around me. In t all the years of my married life I e never seemed so important. Subcon il. sclously I felt my necktie to be sure d the collar button was not showing d and that the collar ends were close e together. I also thought, “Gee, but I ?, ought to have put on my extra pair I. of pants that Ellen ironed yesterday." are then almost ready to lay their eggs. The porters set out at night fall, for all their traveling must be done at night. The Journey Is about 4*>o miles.- Upon the conclusion there of the porter immediately goes to the “master” of the iftdustry and delivers his burden of goods. At once -the leafy bags are tied on the branches’of the ash trees, which are onlv 5 or 6 feet high. A blunt needle is pushed through the leaves in the bag in order that the insects mav find their wa£ out. Once they have left, they creep rapidly up to the leaves of the trees and begin to feed. In a short time they have scat tered along the branches and soon the eggs are 'hatched and the wax is being deposited on the twigs. By Sep tember 1 the trees look as if they were covered with snow. The branches are then cut off and their coating is scraped away. The wax is heated, strained and turned into the molds. In addition to the purposes above mentioned, this wax Is also used for illumination, it serves as a polish for furniture and it is useful in impart ing a gloss to silk. This industry is | said to date from the thirteenth cen ilury. THE SUNDAY STAB. WASHINGTON, D. 0.. DECEMBER ID. 1926-PART 5. Him she regarded with intense dis favor. "I have.” she said briefly, “no ap prehension,” and appeared to consider the matter ended. Billo put both hands to his head. “That word doesn't mean that word,” he was trying to say. "Miss Claude, really!" Cyril was as firming. “Aunt Caroline, hadn't I better bring you something to take?" Yvonne was trying to insert. Miss Claude cut them all off sharp ly. “Please don’t all Interrupt me like this,” she hegged. “I’ve more than I can see to. It was bad enough to have the burglar break in on the day. Yvonne, will you do those er rands for me? Cyril, order the car, please. Billo. hand me my work has ket. I’ve two initials to embroider yet, and all my things to wrap up.” Cyril made a last plea. "Mayn't I notify the police?” he begged. “No, thank you," snapped Miss Claude. “This robbery business has just about spoiled my morning.” On the little stair Yvonne and Billo burst into hysterical laughter. "You see," said Yvonne, “what Christmas does. It makes raving ma niacs of people—with no time evSn to he robbed.” “It's a shame—cutting her off from pleasures like that,” Billo said—and there was still in his face a look as of those who are dazed. “Can I come shopping with you?” he retained the wit to Inquire. “Don't leave me, Billo,” said Yvonne earnestly. “I feel as if there were bandits with shining durkees—what’s that word? —where’s Cyril?” “Let's leave him telephoning for the car and we'll take a taxi,” suggested Billo inventively. “Do we have to have him along?" he demanded. "Why not?" asked Yvonne. “Because,” said Billo, “I love you, and he always makes love to you, the bounder." ... .1 ' “Come on, both of you,said Yvonne, "and you’ll both have to come hack with me for lunch, too. In; case Aunt Caroline has been robbed ft gain and hasn’t noticed.” /?' “Wait a minute, please. Miss Caro line!" Billo called. "Hadn’t we better search the apartment?" Miss Claude’s voice descended brisk ly. “Wait till you get back,” she said. ** * * VVONNE in silk, idle in the Summer, of the sunroom, and Yvonhe in' the blue chaise lounge—these all did excellently well, Billo had concluded. But Yvonne, In brown velvet and fur, Christmas shopping, this was, Billo settled, a delight to the eye. "A tortoise shell fitted morocco case—yes. Blue linings, I should say —and very well flitted, certainly," she told the salesman kindly. And while he sought for such she went on: “Why should she give her that now, whoever she is, and pay two prices for it? And why doesn’t she And out whether she has a fitted case?—she probably has at least three. Yes — that one. Oh!” said Yvonne, “isn’t that ducky? Why, I’d like that my self." “I’ll get you one for my wedding present." said Cyril softly. “Thanks, old man,” said Billo. It was the same way when it came to kimonos. , ’ t . “A kimono,” said Yvonne. everybody on earth has twins when it comes to. kimonos. Aunt Caroline leaves the color to me—well, there aren’t enough colors—and look at this crowd—crazy, absolutely crazy, every one of them. Isn’t Christmas shop ping enough to create hydrophobia? Oh, Billo! Look at this kimono. Look at it, Cyril! Did you ever see any thing that you thought so lovely? It’s like clouds In the moonlight, with some of the sunset left over--this is how I sound when I’m maudlin. Oh, this is the one—and bless the lucky getter. That would be becoming to a letter box.” "Darling,” said Cyril gently, “will you wear this for breakfast every morning?” « “Yes—to please Cyril when he drops in on us on his way downtown,” said Billo casually. “Isn’t it sickening to see people shop so like mad?” said Yvonne. “Oh, look “Graves in our back yard! What graves?” the ladies said. “That’s what I came to see the janitor about.” Really, the ladies were driv ing the Janitor from my thoughts. "Does our janitor know about graves in the back yard?” commanded a member of the National Woman's Party with a girlish figure, smart bob and chic hat. "I came to find out what he knows about the graves,” I said. "Mercy!” gasped a woman. The ladies seemed to think I was a detec tive come to arrest some one for mur der, but I had the presence of mind to say, “I’m the Rambler.” “The what?” said the ladies. “I’m the Rambler; I write those model articles in The Star.” There was no response. The ladies had not heard of me. “And what, after all, is everlasting fame?” (Taken from the Encyclopedia of Prac tical Quotations, indexed under “Fame.”) The ladies lost interest in me. (That is the hardest line I have ever had to .wrlfe.) But I fell into a chat with the best-looking member of the Na tional Woman’# Party and she said, “We never heard of graves in these grounds; we never heard of any wom an laying flowers on those graves. Our Janitor is a colored youth and he has been here only two years; he knows nothing about graves in the back yard. He is out now, but his wife is downstairs, if you want to see her." “Have you ever found any ghosts in this building?” asked the Rambler, trying to string out the conversation and postpone his going. She was the best-looking woman politician I ever saw*. "Oh, certainly not!” she said. "But not long ago Madame ” (I can’t spell the name), "the famous Russian writer, had a room upstairs, and she said one morning that she had been kept awake by phantoms— but then, ydu know, she is a psychic.” ** * * AND there you are! There are ghosts in the Old Capitol, but it takes a psychic to see them. In an old book by Hark ness the elder —the Immortal Latinist and Grecian for whom, no doubt, Harkness Quadran gle at Yale was named —I find a good deal about the word psyche, but the people of Greece gave the word to the ghost itself, and u*>t to the person who sees it. But I know that in our upset times a psychic is one who can see a psyche or ghost. It is fine to be a psychic, but it sometimes gives one discomfort, as in the case of the Rus sian writer who did nQt get her night's sleep because she was a psychic. There are hard-boiled and material istic persons who defy ghosts, and there are persons of spirituality and nerves who see ghosts. Every old Washingtonian knows of houses that are haunted. It is hard to find In sotithern Maryland and tidewater Vir ginia a House of aeceal age in whicj| * t at those fwo dear people trying to de cide on a doll carriage—did you,ever see anything more adorable than their faces?” “Isn’t it rotten. Christmas shop ping?” inquired Billo tenderly. “It's the most frightful bore," said Yvonne and, Billo saw, believed that she believed it. All this he related at lunch to Miss Caroline Claude, who went over her list, and heard not a word that any bodv said to her., * ’’S' «• “I hope you're’ aone the worse for your experience, Miss Claude?” Cyril said solicitously. , "Oh, but I arfi,” Miss Caroline as sured him nb«f-nlly. “.Six firms I’ve called this ftiorrilng to try to find a pink mulberry lampshade. They kept offering me blue mulberry—the idea!" “Shall we search the apartment now?” Billo inquired. "First, would you three mind run ning round to the florist’s and picking out my potted roses?” Miss Claude de manded. "I’ll need six—no, seven— well, you might pick eight." “Miss Claude,” said Cyril, with the vigor ci£ no introduction, "I have the ihbtirttj.tryask you for your niece’s hand ih itiArfra^e.” "So have I,” said Billo promptly. "What?" said Miss Claude. “Blue galloon—five yards ” “Love,” said Billo distinctly. “Love. I love Yvonne.” “Well, ,1 can’t help It,” said Miss Claude, rising from the table. “If you mix the sacred and profane like this, don't look at me. Lvonne, dear, those mirrors were to be marked by this afternoon. If you would just run down—Oh, and those pink wadded slippers—*’ ** * * Through the whole frantic after noon they shopped, and when, as Billo observed, the day had turned to gray— which Cyril corrected and called turn ing, blue*—on which Billo held that he’dy rather turn gray than to turn blu<f> himself —then the three moved hortaeward. *.v 'fAnd now,” said Billo, as they mounted the steps, “when we’ve had tea' —whicji I hope you’re going to ask me to stay s to. but gyril—then we’ll search the'apartment. I ji°P e Jtjfe burglar ,has waited. , ' t ..• They had tea in the sun-parior—by now scrupulously swept by* 1 Elsa, whrf. still shaken and a little pale, SeVved she tea and the cakes. "Still out for your tree tonight, Elsa?” Billo inquired. "Launched on your wild career of peace on earth, good-will, and that sort of thing?” “What was that, sir?" asked Elsa respectfully. “Merry Christmas," explained Billo gently. “Oh, yes, sir. Os course, sir,” said Elsa. “I wish you the same, sir.” “You’d Jolly well better,” said Billo severely. "You and Miss Claude and I are the only ones in this house who care anything about observing Christ mas—and, of course, the burglar. He did his part to brighten things up.” “What was that, sir?” asked Elsa. "Bring some lemon, please, Elsa,” said Yvonne. “Yes’m," said Elsa, and departed. Within five seconds of time, a shrill scream—Elsa's scream—came from tlje butler’s pantry. And wheVi, still other five seconds. and CyrlV rea<se£ t|e Jp^t.^hfy'saw Elsa at the floor of the closet, grasping by the wrist a frightened man, shock ingly unshaven. In the man’s hand was a high, ugly, teakwood case. “Here he is, cried Elsa. “Tie ’ini to a chair, like he done Miss Claude.” “There’s no Morris chair in the din ing-room,” Billo' heard himself saying. “Who is,this man?” Inquired Cyril, as one who insists on the pedigree of one’s burglars. “He’s the window-washer.” Elsa in troduced him without formality. "Meet the window-washer,” Billo muttered. “I’ll call 'Aunt Caroline,” ’ said Yvonne. “Ddn’t interrupt her again’,” Billo pleaded, burglars iri 6he ; day— that is, one buflglar twice in one day— well, you get the idea!” ’ “Red-"handed, with . tKe teakwood case,” said Cyril. ; “Let’s telephone for the police.” “How you do ‘love to telephone.” OLp s CAPITOL FROM THE NORTHWEST. a mortal. crime has been done or a mortal accident taker} place which does not suffer from the' “hants.” Old houses ■w*he#fe'* , ffeith«?t a-'fnurfler' nor an accident happened *re beset by ghosts., th^“manes” of an early owner and the shades of his family. If you were “bo’ri” in the South and if-you had a dark purqp who ha4'mairtinieri Nellie Custis, and whose husband,’ Uncle Nace, had been ‘tfio’geWo'-shen t’n’s” body servant, and if you played under the shade of the big walnut , near the spring and the log cabin j where Aunt Dilly used to treat you to” hoecake, <”noke” greef!s> jowl and black-eysms, you must have,.learned faith in.ghosts. • Dennis A. Mahoney's book, referred to, is titled “The Prisoner of State." The.types tell that it was printed at New York, in 1863,’ and from-fisgftti'! ments .the author hurls at Stanton, Secretary of War, I Teel that something must have happened to Mahoney after publishing the ,book. j Mahoney was arrested at D.ubuque, j lowa, obviously for expressing prOt. secession or anti-abolition thoughts, j He was brought to Washington and 1 said Billo. “It's childish, that is. Let's handle this thing ourselves. My dear window-washer, what was the idea?” The man was trembling. When he tried to sneak his voice quite failed him, so Cyril went to the buffet and poured him some water. “He's much more scared than that,” said Billo, eyeing the water. ‘How ever ” “Don’t look me up," said the man queerly. “I’ve got a wife and two little folks. I done wrong. But I done it for Christmas. “You were stealing for Christmas presents for them?” Yvonne cried. “I'll put it back," said the man. “I should think so—such a Christ mas present—an old teakwood box— why didn't you take something nice?" asked Billo absently. “I beg your par don 1 didn't mean to pick on your taste.” • “What’s that, sir?” asked the man trembling. ("Hush, Billo,” said Yvonne. “Cyril, put down that telephone. Now, my friend—tell us, can’t you?” The man moved toward her. He was young, ragged, neat. “I don’t earn enough,” he said, "hardly to keep us in food—never to keep us in clothes. Christmas comes— my wife, she expects nothing. The little girls—they do expect. I have nothings—nothings. I saw that box, and I saw the beads—l can tie good knots. I tied up the lady and ran with the box, I kept on working in the next room and down here. And when nobody even look for me, I can not take that box. I was trying to put it hack.” “Why, my poor soul,” said Yvonne, "I believe that’s the truth.” “Oh, my gosh,” said Billo, “what a rotten world!” "I should rather think as much,” said Cyril, interpreting the leaping pity in Yvonne’s eyes. “If it means that we’ve got to start out again.” "You can come with us,” said Yvonne to the man. "We can get in most of the shops yet.” “I knew it,” Cyril groaned. "Order .the car, Cyril,” said Yvonne briefly. • As they let themselves out the hall door Miss Claude’s voice came down to them. "Oh, Yvonne —Yvonne! I’ve forgot ten two more. Could you bring me a vanity case and a base ball mitt?” "All right, darling,” said Yvonne simply. They shopped for another hour, loaded their window-washer down, drove to his home, saw the wife and the J 'two little folks,” heard his broken thanks. When they dropped her at her aunt’s door, Yvonne said: “You’d better come back for din ner. I’ve a feeling the day is not yet done.” "You’re going wdth me to the Christ mas tree,” Billo reminded her. “I am doing nothing of the sort, thanks,” said Yvonne. ** * * AT dinner Miss Claude did not ap pear at all. “She’s sewing on those five yards of galloon,” Yvonne explained. "I didn’t bother her.” - Elsa served coffee In the drawing room in her best gown of red and black, having changed when dessert was on the table. She took the cups away,-and they wished her Joy of her Clffistmajs tree and .her family dinner —set* at 9 o’clock, she explained, so that could be done with work and arrive in good time. At 10 o’clock Billo rose. “Come on with me to the Christmas tree,” he begged Yvonne. "I’ve had enough Christmas already to satisfy anybody,” said Yvonne. “I’m not going.” “Run along, Billo,” said Cyril. “We let you hang around us all day.” “And I’ve got to go,” Billo Informed him gloomily, “because I promised. But if She says she’ll marry you, while my back’s turned, I'll be the best little Christmas hater in the bunch.” ' Hearing the hall door close, Miss Cladde’s voice came down: “Oh, Yvflnne! If you’re going out, do you think you could get me a bottle of passable perfume at a drug store?” I’ve forgotten ” In less than two minutes the apart ment doorbell rang, and there stood put in Old Capitol Prison. The book is in the- Library of Congress. Here Is the preface: “To Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War, U. S. A.: "Sir: Having considered for some time to whom it was most appropriate tp. dedicate a work describing the kid najting of American freemen by arbi tr4ry power and their incarceration trial or judgment of any court ki military prisons, no one has occurred to my mind who has so well earned the unenviable distinction as yourself of having his name connect ed imperishably with the infamy of tlv\ acts of outrage, tyranny and des potism which the book I hereby dedi cate to you will publish to the Ameri can people. . “You it was, sir. who after setting at liberty the victims immured at Forts Lafayette ahd McHenry by your predecessors in tyranny —Messrs. Cameron and Seward —and after caus ing the great heart of the people to leap with joy that they should again be governed by the Constitution of their country and not by the will of a partisan, you united in your person • *■ fsfdfd Billo, and with him Elsa, in her fes tal red and black, but crying her heart out. “What’s Billo been saying to you?" demanded Cyril promptly. "Hush,” said Billo. '“Those bound ers forgot to call for her.” "And I donno where my cousin’s n-n-new house isl” Elsa sobbed. “I donno where is the party.” “But she knows where’s her cousin’s old house,” said Billo, “and it’s an apartment. Cyril, you’ve been dying to telephone the police all day. Now. be one. Get on the line and call up that apartment house.” . It took an hour, during which Elsa sobbed without intermission, but at the end Cyril, trying not to look pleased, jotted down the magic num ber. “Cyril,” said Yvonne wearily, "or der the car. Come on, both of you,” she added. "We’re going to see this day through.” It was 10:45 when the car stopped before the new cousin’s elusive num ber. And when Cyll handed Elsa out*, and she begged them to come in, Billo leaped down beside her. “Come on,” he said to Yvonne, “we re going to see this day through.” “Dinner will be over— we might just look to make sure we’ve the right place,” Yvonne assented. *** * > 'T'flEttE was no doubt about the A apartment which they entered being the right place. Every squai*b inch available was covered with holly and evergreen, with red bells and red wreaths. Even the guests seemed holly-hung and scarlet-belled. Aunts and uncles and all kinds of cousins, even as Elsa had prophesied, swarmed over the place. Though the. dinner was over, the tree ceremonies were still in full blast, and the recalcitrant cousin somehow- made his peace with Elsa, w-hile a scarlet Santa Claus, so much masked that he continually groped, kept on distributing presents. Yvonne w-atched. Every one of these gifts was received with a shout of acclaim and applause. As Miss Caroline Claude might have regarded critically the flash of a Christmas jewel on her finger, so the chief cousin admiringly w-hirred her new egg-beater, presented by a doting husband. As Yvonne in earlier days might have paraded an apricot and your acts the treacherous tyrqnny of Seward and the arbitrary* despot ism of Cameron.” Farther in the book Mahoney writes: "I am one, sir, of many hun dreds of victims of the despotism and the arbitrary power of which you have become the willing, servile and pensioned tyrant.” As incidents of his imprisonment in the Old Capitol he tells of the murder of two prison ers. He tells that Jesse W. Wharton, son of Dr. Wharton of Prince Georges County, w r as shot and killed by a guard, Harrison Baker, 91st Pennsyl vania Regiment, and that the guard was ordered to fire by Lieut. Mulligan. Mahoney says Wharton was shot white he had his head out of a win dow* of the prison. Mahoney tells that Henry Stewart, 23 years old, son of Dr. Frederick Stewart of Baltimore, w*as killed by a sentry belonging to the 86th New* York Volunteers. He writes that Stew*art paid the sentry SSO to let him escape; that the sentry took the money and then killed the prisoner white trying to escape. Mahoney dm a chapter on what ha coils the Juduapiug of John kimono, so the chief cousin himself showed his new- shirts. This was a bed-rock Christmas such as Yvonne had not known existed. “About enough of this, what?” said Cyril. “Isn't this grand and glorious?” said Billo. “Oh!" said Yvonne again, and each man thought that she agreed. “Here!” som#body said abruptly to Yvonne. j She looked up into the ruddy mask of the Santa Claus himself. He was handing her a parcel, v The chief cousin and the other cousins having held a hurried conference, this em ployer of Elsa had been voted a present, selected from the presents present, so to speak, and sacrificed by somebody on the spot. “Here!” said Santa Claus, and the hastily wrapped gift emerged unex pectedly from its wrappings, and in her hands Elsa held her Aunt Caro line Claude’s teakwood box. “Great guns,” said Santa Claus, and tore off his mask, and she looked into the eyes of the window-washer. “Miss Claude, she wouldn't take it back, ma’am,” said Santa Claus pas sionately. “I tried to give it to her —but she says she didn’t like the wood and the beads wasn't becoming.” "So she did. And you brought it to your wife, and she’s going to have it.’’ said Yvonne. "Is he your cousin, too?" she asked Elsa. “Yes’m,” said Elsa. “I ’ didn’t recognize ’m at first this afternoon.” “How could you, with so many cousins?” Billo murmured. “—Or I wouldn’t have screamed," Elsa concluded candidly. “Oh. ma'am,” began the window washer earnestly, and Yvonne kindly cut him short with: “Put on that ma.sk—quick! Don’t you see you’re spoiling the fun for the children?” ** * * TX the car Yvonne was quiet for a time, while Cyril went on about the evening. “I feel as if I'd got you into the whole mess,” he wound up distaste fully. “Everything would have been all right if only you had let me tele phone for the police straight off.” "What a thundering thing you’ve thought to say!” said Billo, sleepily. "Come on to the Oxfords’ tree now." “I’m not dressed,” Yvonne began. Merryman of Baltimore, and says that when Merryman was imprisoned at Fort McHenry Chief Justice Taney of the United States Supreme Court issued a writ of habeas corpus that the prisoner be brought before him. The commandant of Foi't McHenry, Gen. George Cadwalader, refused to obey the writ, answering that the prisoner had been arrested by author ity of the President of the United States. Mahoney quotes from Chief Justice Taney's opinion that no notice had been given to him (Taney) of the suspension of the wrrit of habeas corpus, and, in his opinion. Justice Taney wrote: “I have exercised all the power which the Constitution and laws confer on me, but that power has been resisted by a force too strong for me to overcome.” Mahoney writes of the “suppression of the Maryland Legislature in Sep tember, 1861, by the kidnaping of certain members of that body.” I find in this book the names of a few prisoners who were in the Old Capitol with Mahoney and they were: George . Wilson, editor of the Marlborough (Md.) Gazette; Walter Bowie of Marl borough, Judge John H. Mulkev of Cairo, 111.; Judge Andrew D. Duff of Benton, 111.; David Steward of Fair field, Iowa; J. Blanchard, Carbondale, 111.; Rev. Judson I). Benedict, East Aurora, N. Y.; Joseph C. Wright, Mil ford, Pa.; John Apple. Aquila R. Allen, John H. Wise, and Dr. Samuel H. Bunday of Marion, 111.; Dr. A. B. Hewitt of Chatham, 111., and John W. Smith of Jacksonville, 111., “who was a THE MOSQUITO ROLE. /ANE is quite apt to suppose that certain pests belong, in their deadly perfection,, to modern times only. But such is not the case with mosquitoes. According to a distin guished entomologist attached to the Department of Agriculture, who is held to be the foremost authority on what is sometimes called "The New* Jersey canary,” his researches indi cate that the inhabitants of ancient Greece were sometimes forced to abandon their dwellings to avoid the attacks of mosquitoes. The citizens of Mlonte, a rich city of lonia, fled from the mosquitoes of Mileta, and Bergamo, a beautiful city in Asia Minor, was abandoned for the same reason. Sapor, King of Persia, was com pelled to raise the siege of Nisibis by a plague of gnats. Humboldt says that in certain regions of South Amer ica the inhabitants pass the night buried in sand which covers them to the depth of three or four inches, leaving out only the head, which is protected by a cloth. There is even a mosquito story which had the hardihood to attack the veracity of George Washington, or possibly that of a cotemporary “GREAT GUNS!” SAID SANTA CLAUS, AND TORE OFF HIS . masVl, and she looked into THE EYES OF THE WINDOW WASHER. "Come along,” said Billo. “We’ll tell ’em we're carolers. I’m one.” The tree' w r as over. There was to be dancing after the tree. But as the three; went through the stately, de serted rooms to the ballroom it was not jazz that they heard. They stood in the arch of the ball room. The tree, shorn of its gifts, rose sparkling with bulbs and colors, and on' its summit blazed a great white star. The lights of 1 the room were amber and cream, the floor was spread like a quilt of smooth ice, the holly and mistletoe hung on the dark • walls. But the guests were sitting about the edges of the dancing space, and somebody had struck an old. familiaricbord, and they w-ere singing together, “Silent Night, Holy Night.” “Say!” said Billo. "It's Christmas here, too!” "Don’t mind him,” said Cyril. ’Dance this with me.” “He alw-ays talks like that,” said Billo. “This is mine.” j "I'm not dancing,” said Yvonne. “I’m feeling queer. I'm going home ” But when they were outside she . cried,: “Let's send away the car and walk home! Let’s sing every step of the way.” "I can't sing,' complained Cyril. “I can,” shouted Billo. They walked through the quiet streets where candles burned in the windows. And Yvonne and Billo sang carols, whether they knew thsm or not. When they reached Miss Caroline '• Claude's apartment house somebody was just emerging into the frosty glit ter of the night. "Merry Christmas!” said Miss Caro line Claude. “My word, is it Christmas still? Isn’t that over yet?” Inquired Cyril. Miss Claude went over to Cyril. She took him by the arm. "Come and walk a bit with me.” she said. “I’ve had the most glorious time -of my life. 1 have it every year. I'll tell you about It . . .” Cyril glanced back unhappily. But Yvonne-and Billo were unaware of him and his glances. “Dear thing.” said Billo, “be my Christmas present.” "All right, Billo,” said Yvonne. No one was passing. Not that it would have mattered. “Has it been me alt the time?” Billo wanted to know, his lacking, hut his face lit. "Who else could it have been?" Yvonne demanded. "I couldn't marry anybody who pretends to be bored by Christmas." i Con.vnsrht. 1026.) native of one of the counties neat Washington.” In the Records of the Rebellion, I find this inspection report on Old Cap itol Prison: - "Headquarters, Military District of Washington. December 3, 1864. “Col. M. X. Wisewell, Commanding Military District of Washington. “Sir: I have the honor to submit the . following inspection report of the con dition of the prisoners of war at this station for the week ending December 3, 1864: Conduct, good: cleanliness, medium; clothing, fair; bedding, fair: state of quarters, fair; state of mess house, medium: state of kitchen, me dlum: food, quality, good; food, quan tity of. sufficient; water, good; sinks, good, police of grounds, good; drain age. good; police of hospital, good: attendance on sick, regular; hospital diet, under medical direction: general health of prisoners, good; vigilance of guard, satisfactory. "Remarks and suggestions: The con dition of the kitchen, Old Capitol Prison, is anything but creditable, con sidering the number of employes. The floor and tables were dirty and the walls dingy and blackened with smoke. Nothing in the culinary came up to the mark, with the exception of the cooking utensile. In my last report I recommended whitewashing, and re spectfully suggest the same again, as it is really required. "Very respectfully your obedient - servant, A. M. RAPHALL. "Lieut. 6th Reg’t, V'et. Res. Corps and Inspecting Officer." tourist. Isaac Weld, in his "Travels Through North America,” says in ref erence to Skenesborough, N. Y., that mosquitoes were very' ferocious and plentiful there. "Gen. Washington told me.” he set down, "that he was never so much annoyed by mosquitoes in any part of America as in Skenesborough. They used to bite through the thickest boot.” Now the boots of those days were very thick and mosquitoes were probably, so far as structure goes pretty much as they are today. More over, the Father of His Country could not lie; but perhaps Mr. Weld could, or, more probably, one of the gentlemen may have indulged a sense of humor. Store and Home in Hotel. ' Keepers of stores in a milliop-dollai . hotel being constructed at- Nice, . France, will also have their homes in the building. The plans call for .liv ing quarters in connection with .the elaborately dccora'rd salesrooms. The .hotel will have 600 rooms .atid fiOb baths. The ground floor will form an arcade for the eteree.