The evening times., 1899-07-03

porches and its many outhouses, seemed to
pervade the entire place In the wide
grounds with their magnificent trees. some
for shade and some laden with the promise
of peaches and other fruits, the scattering
people were just enough to give the land
scape life and to aid the Imagination in
rehabilitating the dead ribs OF another
generation with the life OF their former
greatness.
The clap-traps and sideshows seemed
quietly TO efface themselves. The old gen.
tleman near the door with white beard
slouch hat. and vest unbuttoned was surely
our host, and We were but witnesses to his
bountiful hospitality. Sitting in those
! wide-armed easy-chairs, with songs of
birds in the air and several of the bold
! brown fellows hopping about almost at
our feet, even the perfervid style of the
New York yellow journal was powerless
TO the millpond OF our thoughts. What of
trusts. or divorces, or abductions, or scan
dals in high life? Here was higher life
/ to drink in Natures most Intoxicating
draft, TO find and WOO her in an amiable
mood, and to ravish her of her sweetest
| gifts. To sleep or wake or read or think,
and for one brief spell let the world wag
on without our help. To rest in the SOM
nolent heat of 4 perfect day.
! And so much, l thought, for a quarter,
| There must be some mistake. The report
! that Carnegie was in his castle in Scot
and must be untrue; he must have linger-
ed in the National Capital, and be now en-
gagged in phiianthropic conspiracy to fur
nish rest and recreation 10 the unknowing
| inhabitants Of the city, at q price, as the
prospectus says, within the reach of all.
But how can we linger fasting with the
appetizing memories of that dinner waited
| to our nostrils? How be considering mat
! ters of dollars and cents and poor, dys-
peptic miilionaires, with the thought of
| that sizzling shsd browning before those
| long, blazing logs? Here was planked
shad that was no mere name on a WELL
printed menu card. For had we not seen
the big, silvery rascals taken from a bar
rel on the pier, and by the booted fisher
man who had unloaded them from his boat
Had we not seen them nailed to the black
| ened and charred planks and propped up
| in front of the glowing bed of Goals? And
| here it came on the table, garnished and
| inviting. But in our greedy haste we are
| overlooking the clam chowder and are
failing to note the table appointments-the
| spotless linen, the real china, the silver
| not the pewter knives and forks of most
| picnics, nor the heavy and nicked plates
| and cups of the ordinary restaurant-and
| the cooling walters, alert, solicitous in
| telligent. Looking for tip? Bah! So are
| all walters, and some are evidently deter
| mined to get it If they have to knock you
| down and take it away from you. But it
Is not every waiter who has the tender
ness of a mother, the tact Of a diplomat,
the speed Of a Mercury, and the pres
cience of a prophet.
| 1t needed but to speak the word and 10.
it was done. And all those other things
were done before nebulous desire had taken
shape and applied to speech for satisfac-
ton. Yes. that niger was prophet, and
the silver which crossed his palm was but
an Offering to his divinity-not sordid
compensation. How should he know that
would have the salad with French d.
irg or that / would have small piece
more of the roe and few more of those
green peas? All! those were peas. Not
the embalmed peas of commerce, but real
live, fresh, small, tender peas.
Why add that the last course did not
spoil the dinner? That the cake was not
dry and crummy; that the cream was not
COLBY and gratny; that the coffee was not
weak and sloppy? And yet how many 75-
cent dinners did you ever eat where they
were not SO? But no. The price of that
entertainment never entered into the mind
where it was conceived. know him not
but one thing know-that man must be
one of those lofty souls whose satisfaction
lies in the attainment of high ideal An
artist in his line, his place among those
who minister to mans most urgent and
frequent needs and pleasures, is what, In
4 their line, is the rank of Haydn, Michael
Angelo, Thackeray, Fulton, and Tennyson
His reward Is not measured in dollars ani
cents, and is one which the vulgar will
never understand.
! No. The spell was not broken. An houl