The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-03-23
face and beautiful form, which wore her

L IKE as clt4fEAuL as a young WoLItu
| OF -. She Is seldom or never seer IN Sc
ciety- She lives quiet, homehl1s life. sur
| rounded by her family aud a few oh )ice
/ friends. She is still an aTdeat worker in
/ Plymouth church, and her counsel is often
sought by the ladies of the parish for ad-
/ vice on matters connected with church
work. just at pres mt she is deeply inter
ested in the statue OF her late husband,
which is now ready for casting, and will
soon be placed in a commanding position In
| Prospect park. Theunveiing of this statue
will be made great feature of by Brook
| lynites.
1t will interest all readers to know that
Mrs. Stowe, the author Of Uncle Toms
Cabin" and the sister of the late Brooklyn
divine, seems 10 be slowly recovering her
health, and is resting very comfortably at
ner sons home in Hartford.
IL will also prove timely to state that
Plymouth church has not lost its power or
usefulness, according to the way the Brook
lynites view the matter, for the editice is
always crowded to hear DR.. Lyman Abbott,
aud while he is not by any means a second
Beecher. yet it is now believed that his
selection was wise one, and that he, more
than any other man, is able to fill the great
orators place DIR. Abbott is a tireless
worker. and while his sermons may not
have the novelty Of Talmage's, yet his con-
gregation is an appreciative one, and his
d scourses are listened to with the deepest
interest.
THE "INTERvIEwER" AS THE PHoroGRA-
PIERS ASSISTANT.
1t may not be generally known, but it is
fact just the same, that all the photog-
raphers of New York employ a person
whom they designate as the Interviewer
Sometimes it is woman and sometimes it
is man. The business of this individual is
to secure trade. Whenever prominent
a
the photographer wishes to get a sitting,
he sends this ''iEtervier" to the
hotel where his prey is stopping, and by an
arrangement with the clerk. who usually
receives free the pictures of his wife and
family, he is enabled to reach any distin-
guished guest and barter for a sitting. Very
often this is not accomplished without such
opportunities as to make the interviewer a
very disagreeable person. But, like the
averag drummer he holds on to his victim
until in sheer desperation he bags his
game and Tugs 1T off to the photo.
graphic studio. Great men and
women, others who suddenly become
famous, and actors and actresses are usually
the persons singled out by these people
They are not, of course, expected TO pay
for their portraits, but on the other hand
the photographer expects to give them
dozen or two for nothing and to reap
harvest of shekels from the sale of the
photographs In public places. "Interview-
Ing" as above described, is perhaps the
most unique and picturesque business in
this town to-day.
GEN. JOHN c. FREMoNT'S CLOSING DAYS.
| A great crowd is surging MP and down
| Park Row. Men and women in a hurry to
get home, newsboys rushing in every direc-
| tion and there is a general air of excite
ment as the great offices pour out their
| n huO1an oil
sorts of people in this crowd, the least
| noticeable of which is q thin gray haired
| gray bearded old fellow, whose
shoulders are stopped and who shifts
along as il he were afraid of
being knocked down in the heller skelter of
| the multitude. 1t is mono other than John
| &. Fremont, the first candidate of the Re-
Publican party for President of the United
States. When in New York he comes down
town every day, visits some of his acquant-
| ances, and although no longer a worker he
is deeply interested i'll all that is going on.
He looks to be very frail; he
certainly doesn't weigh over 120 pounds,
but his eye is clear, the grasp of his
| hand is firm and there Is no tremor
in his voice. He has passed the milestone
of life allotted to human beings by the
| psalmist, and seems to be waiting quietly
for the end. Occasionally he goes out to a
| public dinner and once in while few of
| his old-time friends meet at his hospitable
| board, but he is a worn0ut relic of the past,
pushed hero and there in the hurry burly
| of life, while the crowd around him never
| for moment suspects that he is the great
"path-finder," and the man who carried the
standard of the grand old party in its first
| fight.
A PASSING GLIMPSE OF A FAMOUS WOMAN.
This woman who sweeps by in the gay
crowd on Broadway was a famous beauty
in her day She is still good looking. Her
| face is a trifie stouter and there are wrinkles
| on her brow and crows feet on her cheeks,
| but it is still face that would be noticed In
q crowd. 1t is Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague.
| This once famous beauty who welded more
| power in American politics, perhaps,
| than any other American woman has
| ever done, is gong down the hill of life
| in quiet, easy way She comes to New
| York occasionally to visit friends, but her
home is in Washington. She is no longer
the gay butterfly of fashion, and her dresses.
while fashionable and well-made, have not
the dash that made her so much talked
about in ante-bellum days. Here life in the
national capital ID simple one. There is
none of the luxury at Edgewood
that characterized her life during
her fathers career. But she is
happy, nevertheless, for her children
are growing up around her.
Her old friends are still true to her and she
looks on calmly at the progress of events
with a smiling face. The white house has
passed out Of her mind forever 1t was an
idle dream at best. But there is sunshine
at Edgewood such as this woman could
never have found had she become the wife
of President of the United States.
GLIMPSE OF CARL sCHURz
Promen aders on upper Broadway often
SEQ a middle-aged man, bent of form, with
his hat we'll pushed back on his head, his
overcoat tightly bnttoned around him and
with eyes swapping through an enormous
pair of gold bowed spectacles. 1t is Carl
| SchurZ, ex-senator and ex-cabi1et minister.
He peers into the store windows with all
| the eageruess Of a woman looking tor hob
lots" He is particularly fond Of books and
engravings, aud devotes a portion of
each day to visiting old curiosity
Stops where he occasionally finds rare
| tome or etching to compensate him for mis-
| trouble. He is growing old very fast, and
has almost completely dropped out of life
in New York. Occasionally he is seen III
| Wall street and once in while at the thea
ter or a public dinner, but he no longer
mIngles in the great whirl of the town. He
| spends his evenings at his club or the opera
and is particularly fond of Wagnerian
music. As all the world knows he is
| gifted pianist, and no takes as much plea
sure when seated before his own instrument
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