Evening Star Newspaper, August 16, 1884, Page 3

THE LETTER CARNIERS’ TALK. Dramas of Kea! Life as Witnessed from ' i S TOLD BY THE FREQCENCY AND | TCH LETTERS pirFER | # OP Levy FROM oF ite Oo ARE ALways | Wartine eMOROUS AND PATHETIC 8 { “There's another, as he tied up a Ii dan vld letter carrier bundle of letters and dropped it into his bag along with a lot of other similar bundies, assorted dor delivery along his route. “Ther mouth of the tieaiar bundle with its fellow winks and smiled grimly. continued to | sinile as he tied up the rem we letters which e laid cut on the “board” betore him. He led as he stuffed the package in the and threw it over his shoulder, and he was still ed itself down along he gave three knowing He smiling—a curious, grim sort of sinile—when Tux Stax m: rail been him ail the wh: cood morn’ to street at a quick What pleases | ed with a grin | ¢ into amore | bie position on his shoulders. You must walk fast i : ae along with me. | “Twoulda't do to ki an. “How You don't n Tread them through that n T see through that fan Pai not; but I know all the same. “But how do you know 2” “Just wait until you have been a letter carrier as long as I have and you'll know how. Why I can tell a love letter f business letter—I should say so—or from any other kind of letter either. They are always so neat and careful like. The address is always carefully. written. The stamp is pertectly true in the corner—never skewed or smeared. The envelope is always of good @ ly sealed, and no blots of fin- cer prints "be Oh. T know ‘em! r letter I was continued. sone | ones. It's fer—l guess I won't! I about to tell you who it! was for, but it’s against rules. “Any how— it don't matt that way, and is am fs along ways off. T guess | fortune—and hers, too—and me back and take he : She tives over y nice gi way to 2 ni s e seen lots of these thing my time. But T was sayin sweet little gi nd she waiting for me this morning. a let for her. This is are coming—twice a week— never L. 's & downright earnest case. The ceurse of true lve don't always lead threnuch a m: tle hom “But sometimes it does,” he added thought- | “It generally does. T reckon, though it | depends a lot upon the persons. Sometimes | they ki and finaliy have } | a quarrel or t sort and drop off sudgenly. I reniember one of those cases on my | route; J re T lets of them, but this one in| ieular. It was something kind ot sudden. | s the young lady had been off to tl aad had made a settler ot it— that time of the y never kept me hand on the bell- just how it woutd | run about the same | rious | snow all in | porhood. cl all love letters. folks will on see much sadness the change inti There are folks who are al <something. They watch for me | can be, and seem disappointed | s of them watch for years and never get a letter. Yet they expect It every | day and are ever; disappointed. You ask | them where they expect to hear from and they shake their heads and sigh, and that is all you'll | et from them. Some of them, I don’t believe, | have a friend they wateh a ow who. Then there | friends they are anx- | who are re waiting for | more fortu- | i wait in vain, and, and emaciated each | implorinsly and ex- w wish some But there are ly on | ° from nate relative more and mot © the a year azo | ake more mon fear months s Just wasting | fter letter she is Abou very round [| ng for me. ing, hopeful, fs not th then grad- | what is It? y avand fades into pression of | Cait. utter S she sees from ace there Has Is ne he pass letter for he fs no Tpess with no letter for her. It | 4 “Here fs | with strange experiences?” ! one : strange sometimes and varic Sometimes pa- | humorcus: sometimes ag- | ‘olkS curse at us for not other: curse at us if Us witha pleasant e; others want to know bell out, and “guess we | Why there are some save torun out inthe street the bell, so asto see from what They will rush at | hyenas. My route be-! zood day,” and he was off with bis . drop & letter in this hand and that, and throwin, <3 ina window here anda door there. | a ean wait till th houses where after p Girection the: @ How a Butcher Weighs a Steak. tea: steak.” H 's his knife, cuts three slices out | Te and one off the meat. Then | kK like a sail and throws it | nto the sea! his eaule eye catch- ing the scale-hand as kesthe lowest dip on | the dial. The sexle rapidiy recuperates from | tke torce of the butcher's throw, and the index | moves backward toward the truthful welyht. | The batcher bates this honest intention by | fthe meat. and cheerfully whispers to | “Seventy-fve ce please.” j ously producing specie’ ter than the mon Reilectious by an Old Bachelor, Peek's Sun, rv if the women who cut out and sew | lreds of pieces of silk and ribbons ep atting, so fa: onable tan a'd to. tattling. en who devote a good share | id Cutics and to bring- he best atter all. | |3, Dougherty stroke, and Cromwell bow, Du- | former crew won, | ae |The Mutuals, of Aibany, had no opposition in | course, and made an interesting race. The time | 1:55 and | by ast "Twas teo | j ou then the mother chimed and Cle} Ned. ot kicking. th Th + Vd give half my | plied his a rT husband r Gimiet—By the way Oleson. A has commer ! specie payments are allowed.” ad THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTO OUTDOOR PASTIMES. Sports on Land and Watcr—The Poto- mac Hep and Haces—Jny-Eye-See Fails to Beat the Record—Base Ball naicy Vesterday. On the Water. The regular hop of the Potomac Boat club was held last evening, preceded by some inter- esting boat races. In the four-oared race the crews were Kearney bow, Doty 2, John Doyle vant 2, J. D. Doyle 8, Carusi stroke. The In the senior singles the entries were J.D. Doyle, Thomas Cropley and Austin Herr. They finished in the order named. The gentlemen known as “those Pennebaker | boys” of the Potomac club wili give a large stag barge party this evening et the Potomac club landing. The Apotlo Glee club will accom- nd uli anticipate a good time. ly 3,000 people gatherea on the docks at Elizabetliport, N. J.. last_ evening to witness a t race betw s Katie Dooley, of Staten Island, and Miss Mamie Mooney, of Elizabeth- port. ‘The race was rowed in the dark, and was | marred b fouls. Miss Dooley finaliy crossed | the line of wth in the | | lead. Mooney on the last | The referees and the judges decided | race be rowed again on Thursday next, y dark when the beats crossed the t ning to say who was the winner. Morrisand James Keenan met at Boston and formally agreed to a five-miie race between Teemer and Ro: start. The ace will be rowed on Sep- 2d, but the racing water will not. be reed Upon until Mr. Keenan has consulted who Is st present at Riebtield Springs. pn row for $1,060 a side. In the regatta at Long Poi yesterday, the senior single seull race, 1g was won by John Buckley, of Portland, M 11:001,. Tn the junior sin Vy of Bath, Me., won in 121445. In the race fi the junior fours the Glen City crew, of Watkins, defeated the seniors of the same plage in 11:19. the pair-oared race, nor did the Creseents, of Boston, in the race for double sculls. The two cre therefe pulled together over the of the Cresceuts was 11:54°, aud of the Mutuals 1 In the senior tours the Middlesex f Cambridse, Mass., won, over the Ata- lantas. of New rk, in >. The Colum- dentty did not meet the famous | Metropolitans at this regatta, as was expec ted. The Tart. There were two races at the Brightwood track yesterday. thre ‘The nrst, a trotting race, vest in five, was won by D. P. Cusick Pat- | son, C. G. Coffin’s Creole second. Time, 2:55, 3:02 and 3:00. The seeond race, a running mile heats, was won by S. Hoge’s Bis- marek, E. Burgdorf’s Tramp eecond. Time, Jay-E Maui S. atten 0 12. at Philadelphia yesterday. The | sly estimated at from 10,000 | He beat the record for three- and. but for a losing break < the last quarter would, | have clipped a second or more off | Maid S.’s fastest time. Jay-Eye-See made the one-quarter in $234 seconds, the one-halt in 1:08, | the three-quarters in 1:353;, but broke in the arter and finished in 2:11. In his repeat ee trotted Lo the quarter in 88 seconds, | halfin 1:63%¢, ssed the three-quarters 024. Phallas failed to his own best performance, but he trotted | the three fastest consecutive heats ever recorded | jon. He made the one-quarter in 34 ¢ one-half in 1:6617. the three-quar- | 3 He repeated | | erday were Nora | ke and Thaly. the fir “e attempted to break the record ot | y a t people. quarters of a mil just after enteri it is thous! + at Chicazo yest Leona’ chy y and the se fell at th dintely le er. Pilot and Pawn mtusa were won by | imu e of 4 to sulted ee aturday Smit pose Arctic expe- | rerak Boston Courier. great di atinent to disceyer that Inder Si nder. It was hn. — Cincinnati t bean Oh Commercial Gawtle. ed that the best pre void the use of w cau T, ol: Nein the sun.” Little Nell: +" i The Areti jons are not without their plea- rhe Esquiman girls are very pretty dance, sing, and do not care for ice creain. Hot | drinks and walrus blubber are their peculiar Vanities. and seal skin sacques are sold at two iron hoops and a tenpenny pail.—Boston Trans- eript. Even people on the porches of the summer rls are tired of polities. In onse to a re- | k abowt Cleveland and Blaine, fired off by a whing lounver at the seashore the other d ata manwho wa: evidently fishing with his childre he pa said, “Blaine, Cleveland? | he fall. Come along. Dolly.” And just | in. “Oh. bother Blaine, 1. too—go after the lunch basket, | iphia Lede that ho eed up to © the sec- Ob! TH gee This is pre ed it re- 4 laughter, “it is good thing for your wite er—In what Au how late we are. * He is not 8 o'clock yet.” ing a select: and ask the lady to ote for meé—my name's St. John.” —Chicago News. + “Whom the ve)? “ Whom the gods love die young,” © bright elect! No note of plaining ali our wo Nor cry de: love die young,” F breath of light. no. hearts frost-strung, ‘or ye no breat plight, no hearts A Nor wintry hours But timely halting ere the journey’s heat, No pain or piercing for those stainiess fect. A Lurning back where sin and sinless meet; “ Whom the gods love dle young,” © pertion sweet He Gave It Up. From Life. “George, dear,” cried Eveline, “do you sup- pose Heaven Is as nice a place as people say it is?” “Well, really, Eveline, as I have never been there, I cannot say, but, from what I hear, the society is very select.” “Everything is bright and golden there, isn’tit, George?” “Yes, darling; the streets are paved with solid gold blocks; golden bricks make the houses, and only “Weil, then, eorge,” archly said the maiden, as she nestled sely to her lover, “If everything is so golden ¥ don't the gilty get in?” But the answer He hi to be & cow-boy. He Asked a Blessing. From the Merchant Traveller, { Lew Campbell, the “baking powder” man, { who travels south, was Invited by a lady to din- her. The guests were ali seated, and the lady, turning to Lew, said: Campbell, will you ask a blessing?” la—wha—wha—I beg your pardon mad- he stammered, dropping his napkin. Will you please ask a blessing?” she re- peated. Then she bowed ier head, and sp did every- and poor Lew looked down at his body else, plate and stuttered: “Lor—Lord, have merey on these poor vittles. Amen.” ss . The ae a "| to i | in the wrist | short and | trusted to me when I was permitted to revisit | and was eager to obey your commands; but THE RETURNING DEAD. AYarn ofthe “President” Frigate. Architald For!es in Beleravia. Concerning the history ot the eubjoined curi- | ous narrative, the original manuscript of which, written in now faded ink onthe rough dingy Paper of sixty years ago, was placed in my hands in the course of a recent visit to America, onlya few words are necessary. The narrative | is addressed to “Mrs. Rodgers and sister,” and bears to haye been written at the request of the former lady, after its author's return from sea | onthe termination of his service us surgeon of the “President” frigate, the famous fighting | eruiser ofthe American ®epublic in the war} with England of 1812-14. Commodore Rod- | gers, who commanded the “President” during | the war and who was the husband of the lady for | whom the account was written. gave to Dr. | Turk’s narrative his indorsement of its perfect accuracy. Of the authenticity of the document there can be no possibility of doubt. ‘ome time in the latter part of December, & man by the name of William Kembie, d about twenty-three (a seaman on board of | the U.S. frigate ‘President,’ commanded by | Commodore John Rodgers, ona cruise then near | theWestern Islands), was brouzht to me from one | of the tops, in which he was stationed, having | burst a vessel in his lungs, being at that time in great danzer of instant death, the blood gush- | ing with great violence from his mouth and | nostrils. With much difficulty T succeeded in | stopping the discharge, and he was put upon | the use of remedies suited to his ease. I visited him often, and had the best of opportunity of becoming acquainted with his temper, habits, | and inteliectual attainments; and under all cir- cumstances, during his iliness, found his lan- guage and benavior such as stamped him tl Toush, profane, and illiterate sailor. It ts my | belief although T cannot positively assertit. that | he could not clther read or write. It is certain | that his conversation never differed in the least | from that of the most ignorant and abandoned of his associates, constantly mixed with oatus and the lowest vulgarity. Had he possessed talents, or learning, he must have betrayed it to me during his long confinement. “In the early part of January (1814), a vessel bore down upon us, with every appearance of being an English frigate. All hands were calied to quarters, and after a short aud animated address by the Cominodore to the crew, all pre- pared to do their duty, Before I descended to the cockpit, well knowing Kemble's spirit and how anxious he would be to partake in the glory of the victory (defeat never entered our thoughts), I thouaht it best to visit. him. After stating to him the peculiar situation he was in, and the great danger he would be exposed to by the least emotion, I entreated him and ordered him not to stir during the action, which he promised to observe. We were soon obliged to fire. At the sound of the first gun he could restrain himself no longer, but regardless of my admonitions and of his own danger, he rushed upon deck and flew tohls sun, layin hold to he!prun herent. A fresh and tremulous discharge from his lungs was the consequence, and he was brought down to me aguin in a most deplorable state. I apprehended death, but by the application of the proper remedies, I succeeded once more in stop- ping the hemorrhage, by which he was reduced to astate of the most extreme debllity. Being near the equator, and suftering inuch from heat, his hammock was slung on the gun-deck be- tween the ports affording the best circulation of air. He continued for some time free from hemorrhage, but was under the constant use of medicine. and was confined to a particular diet. | him fretfu!, and he would fre quently mates with starving him, and at the | same tine damning them in the true sailor fashion. After some time, being again called to quarters at night. he was necessarily removed below to the sick berti (commonly called bay). This was followed by another discharsze of blood from his lunes, which was renewed at intervals until his deat “On January 17, in the afternoon, Dr. Bireh- mor tmy first mate, came to me on deck and | to be dead. I directed him to | es did what was usual on holding Ldircetly of th Lo himself up, partic on 1 YD, iS nessmiates who his in not were i he Hiowed as e to return and yg! them, as i some direction for tlieir future In th xtion Tfound him, surreunded by the erew, all mute with astonish. ment, an paying the most serious attention to every word that es from his lips. The heat ke it. There was no pnisation the temples, or the chest percepti- His voice was clear and powerfal, his ¢ uncommonly brilliant aud animated, bie. tinent address to the medical gen- tiemen, he told me, in a peremptory manner, to bring Commodore Rodgers | as he something — to fore he finally left us. The com- sented to . When a scene , truly novel and ‘indescribable, alated to fll with awe the stoutest heart. ‘Ihe sick bay or (berth) in which he lay is cntirely set apart to the use of those who are coyfined to thelr beds by illness. Supported by the surgeons, surrounded by his weeping and astonished comrades, a crowd of spectators looking through the lattice-work which inelosed the room, a common Japanned lamp throwing eut a sickly lizht, anda candle held opposite his face by an attendant, was the situation of things when our worthy’ commander made his appearance, and well does he remember the effect. pi od: ced by s0 uncommon a spectacle, wien followed by the utterance of ords from the mouth of one long ve been dead: ‘Commodore sent for you, sir: being com- mlssioned by a higher power to address you for short time, and to deliver the message in- the earth. On I trembled in your presence, now I am your superior, being no longer an in- habitant of the earth. ‘L have seen the glories of the world of spirits. I am not permitted to make known what I have beheld; indeed, were T not forbidden, language would "be inadequate to the task; “tis enough for you and the crew to know that I have been sent back to the earth to Feanimate for a few hours my lifeless body, commissioned by God to perform the work I am now engaged tn.’ He then in language so chaste and appropriate as would not have dis- graced the lips or the pen of a’ divine, took @ hasty view of the moral and religious duties incumbent on the commander of a ship of war. He reviewed the vices prevalent on ship-board, pointed out the relative duties of officers and men, and concluded by urging the necessity of reformation and repentance. He did not, as was feared vy our brave commander, attempt to prove the sinfulness of fitting and wars; but, on the contrary, warmly recommended to the men the perfurmance of their duty to. their country with courage and fidelit Hisspeeches cecupied about three-quarters of an hour, and it the whole could have been taken down at the time, they would have made a considerable pamphlet which would, no doubt, have been in reat demand. Dr. Birchmore, now at Boston, Beara all the addresses, I only the last. “When ie finished with the Commodore, his head dropped upon his breast, his eyes closed, and he appeared to have passed through a sec- ond death. No pulsation nor the least degree of warmth could be perceived during the time that he was speaking. I ordered nim to be laid aside, and lett him. * * . . “T retired to bed, deeply reflecting upon the past, unable to sleep, when about 9 o'clock p. m., many hours after Kemble had been laid by, Iwas called out of bed to visit aman taken suddenly ill in his hammock, near Kemble’s apartment. It was an hour when all but the watch on deck had turned in; general silence reigned, and all the lights below put out, with the exception of a single lamp in the sick apartment, where lay the remains of Kem- ble. Thad bled the elck man—he was relieved. {entered the sick room before I retired to replace something, and was turning round to leave it, being alone, when suddenly I was almost petrified upoa beholding Kem- ble sitting wp in his berth, with his evea (which had regained their former brilliancy and intelligence) fixed intently upon mine. I became, tor a moment, speechless and motionless. Thinks I to myself, what have I done, or left undone in this man’s case that should cause him thus to stare at me at this late hour, andalone! I waited a long time in pain- ful suspense, dreading some horrid disclosure, when I was relieved by his commanding me to fetch him some water. With what alarcity I obeyed can easily be imagined. I gave him a tin inng containing water, which he pnt to his mouth, drank all the contents, and returned to me; then laid himself quietly down for the last time. His situation was precisely the same in every respect as before described, The time Was now expired which, he had said, was given him to remain in the . The next day by noon all hands attended as usual to hear the funeral service read and sce his remains consigned to a watery grave It was an unusnally solemn — period. Seamen are naturally superstitious, and on this occasion their minds had’ been wrought apon ina singular manner. Decorum | that father, is always observed by sailors at such times; but now they are all affected to tears, and when the body was slid from the plaak into the sea every- one rushed instinctively to the ship’s side to take a last look. The ususi weights had been attached to the feet, yet, as if in compliment to their anxiety to see more of him, the body rose perpendicularly from the water breast high two or three times. This incident added greatly to the astonishment already creatéd inthe minds of the men. I beg leave to remark that it was not thought proper to keep the body longer in the warn latitude we were in. “‘T have now given a short and very imperfect sketch of the important events attending the last illness and death of Wiiliam Kemble. It is submitted to the ladies in this state, begging they will excuse haste and inaccuracy. The change produced upon the crew was for a time very remarkable. It appeared as if they would never smile or awear again. The effect wore off by degrees, except when ‘the subject was re- newed. W. Turk.” ————_+2-—_____ Shakespeare’s Personality. Richard Grant White in August Atlantic. A careful consideration of what we know about Shakespeare the man leads to the con- clusion that he was one of those who play to win—always, the game of life or any other game. Success, the getting and keeping of his own, were the ends he kept constantly in iew. To this he brought an unequalled knowl of men and things, and an ability in affairs which (considering the limited fleld of his ac- tion In this respect) seems to have been not in- ferior to his other personal gifts. He presents to us the strange and admirable union of a | good manager anda great poet, an economist and a writer of fiction, a player and a man of thrift. Like many other men—can we not@eay like most other men?—vastly his inferiora, he had two natures: Shakespeare the poet was one man; Shakespeare outside the realm of poetry was another man. The two orbits in which his dual nature revolved did not overlap; they did not even touch. Unlike and far above ail the Test of the world in some things, in this he was like many of the humblest of his worshipers. ‘ow, it is sadly sure that success In life, the suceess which consists chiefly in rising from poverty to wealth, is, with very rare exceptions, the accompaniment and the consequence of @ certain hardness ot nature. Successful men are those who make hard bargains with the world, and hardly hold to them. If to this quality they add tact. the power of managing, the power of personally pleasing those with whom. they are brought in contact; and if, moreover, they have brilliant talents, their success attains the point of splendor. All these qualities seem to have been Shakespeare's; all this success he certainly did attain. The notion that a good poet must bea good man may be dismissed without further consider- ation, nothwitistanding the respectability of the names by which It is supported. Indeed, all general rules of moral Judgement, all opinions of men formed upon classification, are futile and untrustworthy. A man is an individual and must be Judged by himself. The interesting question Temains, Was this great poet a good man? We don't know. We only know that he was civil in his demeanor; that his conduct united with his great mental gifts to win him, standing in the lowest soclal position, the favor of those who are in the highest; that Ben Jonson loyed him (his recog- nition of the merit of Every Man 1a his Humor brought Ben into notice) and thought him hon- est and ofa free and o| natare; that, being only an actor and a playwright, he Tose rapidly from absolute poyerty to very considerable wealth; that to please the coarse tastes of a considerable part of the public, by pleasing which he prospered, he who when he spoke ju- diciously deuounced indecency as bad in morals and bad in art made his plays more co- pieusly, more grossly and more ingeniously in- decent than any others known to modern liter- ature; that le sued one of his Stratford townsmen for £1 15s. 10d., and another for 46, and getting judyment against the lat- ter, and not being able to arrest him, he proceeded against his surety; that he did not her from shuilar prosecution on the p tors, but that he did buy from the He bilece a coat-of-arms for of faise- dd a hood, of whict C that when Wiliam Combe, the sqi combe, projected the enclosure of a e part of the com Stratford-on-Avon, and there was great opposition to the interests of such men father and the poor he, notwithstanding en- ire. F s life was, sners and morals of the time, decorous—considering his protession, not- ably decorous; that his manuers were ingratint- and that above all things else he was pru- that after his first bitter experience at Stratford of the consequences of youthful im- prudence the guiding rule of his life was, “Nul- jum numen abest, si sit prudentia;” that he was at the least prudentially just; that he was pru- dently kind In his actions, and perhaps more; that it was probably agreeable to him to be more than prudently courteous; that he mani- | fested imprudently no personal resentments or dislikes; and that he brought, with notable dis- cretion, all his great faculties and all his intul- tive knowledge of the world not only to his task of play ing, but to the advancement of his fortunes and the elevation o1 his social posl- tion. SS Piazza Talk at the Seashore, From the Boston Commercial Bulletin, “Oh, Mamie! I'm awful glad you have come down, we are going to have a german and you can——trot inside 2:40, sir, and road ten miles an hour, best hoss I ever owned, he’s—en- gaged to that young Soper, and they do say he's dreadful fast, no daughter of mine should be-—. taken by the head and dipped into a dish of melted butter, then they taste like—flannel trimmed with braid anda tennis hat of black crimson, then I think, Jennie, I shall bk——the best catch on the flela, sir, took it right off the bat. Jim Buggs, he was playing behind, and he ran back and——wiped Stich and Smorlware completely out, sir, all their assets are——the loveliest box of French candy you ever saw, Nellie, and when he came down I asked him if he sent It, and he said——jess as soon as he stuck his fork into ’ein, them’s mother’s pickles, sez John, I can tell mother’s pickles, they allus taste like—a regular old maid, my dear, been down here for the last ten years, she is trying to catch—the biggest codfish that has been taken off this shore this year, when Jack pulled him up the fish was—down at the roller skating rink having an awful good time. It is embar- rassing though to fall into—the meanest clique that ever was planned —and just to put down —a hot whisky punch. I wish we might, old boy, but the law and order league has taken —— dful chill, catch me In the water again with- out—managing private theatricais, I'd like to have you try it. Girls say that they can’t take a part that bas lovemaking and then kick likea steerif you givethem a part tliat hasn't—horrid mean thing. Ido wish people would mind their own affairs. Why we danced the german Satur- day, and Sunday we went to the rocks together and now they say I am——a perfect barroom, all kinds of liquors in his room and—mother and I go to Saratoga because—stocks, sir, that have risen over ten per cent {n a—blue silk dress, if you ever heard sueh a thing, and then ——held eleven trumps and took—five dollars, father, to pay subscription to the—pitcher Ice water to ninety-five and call me—a jackass, sir. to do business with no more capital than—— her headdress which makes her look like—a thousand shares In Union Pacific that —seems exactly like a heavy rain,” ete. 7 A Baggage Smavher’s Fate. From the Burlington Hawkeye, An aged Trunk gat back in the dark corner of the car and refused to budge when the baggage gentleman called him out. The baggage man in great wrath advanced and seized the ven- erable Savatoga by the handle. “Gently, friend, gently,” said the Trank; “that thing you have hold of was not made to jut the man gave it 8 yank that Et It ont by the roots and then, with vic- lent language, upbraided the Trunk for not holding on. “T have nothing to do with getting out this baggage,” replied the Aged Trunk, “my sole mission _and daty in life is to get on the wrong train. Failing in that I am content merely to ge to the wrong hotel, although I would prefer lose my check and get lost entirely. You will find the remaining handle at the other end.” The baggageman walked around and caught hold of the surviving handle. By pane his feet Sates the end’of the trunk and holding on with both hands he was able to pull off this one in three strong pulls. Then the Aged Trunk closed its ey_s, leaned back, and simply said: “And this is where I must get off, too.” The Nagreseean wert He had now to oe down, pr his arms around that trank, pick up bodily, and carry it to the ear door. He did so, but the exertion broke his back in three Places. He determined that he would not die unavenged, so he hurled the now helpless trunk upon theiron-bound truck that awaited it. Then, as he heard the awful crash that announced the ruin he had wrought, he sank to the floor of the car, saying: “I die happy.” sagt ® comrade looked in the car and said y “Missed yer tip, BHI!” “Didn't { bust the trank?” he asked faintly, “Naw; only wrecked an express truck.” 2 SOME LITERARY SUCCESSES, Where are the Favorites Now? ‘From the New York Critic. A bewildering array of figures has lately been going the rounds of the press, in the shape of estimates of the probable circulation of Mr. Blaine’s book and of the author's supposititious profits—figures which have attained such pro- portions under the manipulation of the “arith- metic men” ofthe press, that they approach the sarcastic estimate of a humorous journal, that the book would have a sale of five million cop- ies and that Mr. Blaine’s profits would be about twenty-five million dollars. The work, how- ever, will have a large sale, for almost any sub- scription-book is reasonably certain ofa wide circulation. The book-agent is frresistible. Some of the statistics of his conquering career are simply amazing. The late Albert D. Rich- ardson, for Instance, was one of the most popu- lar of American authors, if the sale of books is the criterion of popularity, fortwo of his works, “Field, Dungeon and Escape,” and “Beyond the | Misissippi,” had a circulation of 255,000 copies. Matthew Hale Smith’s “Sunshine and Shadow” sold to the extent ot 100,000 copies. J. T. Head- ley’s history ot the Civil Wer found 152,000 purchasers. Fifty-five thousand coples were | sold of ‘Knots Untied,” a detective book; and | like figures might be given by the column. And | yet, of the long list of subscription-books, very few are of any permanent value, and fewer | still belong at all to literature, in the real sig- | nificance ofthe word. They are written and | published ‘for revenue only.” But they attain a circulation that is seldom reached through the regular trade. The most popular American novelist inthe commercial sense is, perhaps, the Rey. E. P. Roe, and the first editions ot his later novels have consisted of 25,000 coples—a most respectable number, but almost insignifi- cant when compared with the figures of the sub- seription-books. And with what contempt would a publisher in that department look upon | the 12,500 copies which constituted the drst edition of Mr. Crawford's Istest novel! The fact is, and it is perhaps a rather con- soling fact, the immediate popularity of a book has no necessary connection with its permanent value. Thus one of the most popular writers of our green and salad days was Mistreas Fanny Fern. Her ‘Fern Leaves” had a sale of nearly 100,000 copies, her ‘Ruth Hail” of 55,000, and | her “ Shady Side” of 46,000. Few books of their | day equalled them in popularity. But where, oh! where are they to-day? Out of print and out of remembrance, every one of them, An- | other famous literary woman of a generation ago was Fanny Forester—in tiose days our lit- | erature was prolific in Fanny Ferns and Fanny Foresters and Minnie Myrtles,—whose collected writings, in a two-volume edition, bearing the title of “Atderbrook,” had a sale of 33,000 copies; and the biography of the amiable writer tound 15,000 purchasers. Still another widely-known | writer was Miss Cummins, whose “Lamplighter” | had a circulation of nearly or quite 100,000. Our fathers regarded ‘* Doesticks” as funny—and so he was, more or less—and bought 77,000 copies of his books; and, to offset the account, prob- ably, they purchased 55,000 copies of that ex- hilarating work. Benton's “Thirty Years’ View.” and 145,000 of Kane's Arctic Explorations. To come down to later thmes, American readers | have recovered from the Muhtback craze, just as people recover from the measles; but while the attack was at the height of its virulence, it was very acute indeed. The writer lost track of the Muhlback series at the sixteenth volume. but up tothat point it had enjoyed a sale of 240,000 vol- umes, and the aggregate circulation must have been something astounding. Figures to the purpose might be multiplied | almost indefinitely, but perhaps enough have been given to poizt the moral. The gods of the hills are not the gods of the valleys. The lit- erature of one generation suffers hardly at the hands or the next. And the stamp of popular approval is by no means the stamp of merit. gis Bawilscans aid CUCUMBERS, An Old Prejudice—! ous istoric Facte—Vari- MON. From the St. James Gazette, Among the numerou gress of analytical | modern cnt | equally int rprises which the pro- nce has sprung upon our | meare two of avery opposite but | @ nature. One is that the | | oyster, notwithstanding the high-sounding tra- | ditions and exclusive character, fs after all little | | better than an imposter, being worth nutritively | | Jess than his own weight in milk. The other is | the announcement that the cucum! nearly al artaken of with a certain Inward mis- giving as toconsequences, Is a digestible, whole- | some food: and that, well grown and properly | prepared, it may be unhesitatingly received on | afamiliar footing. This is something to s fe udice has p: ed with the cucumber in | ter of a possible enemy for more than | | 000 years. Even within the memory of John | n it was accounted in England as little | better than polson, and perhaps no. other fruit ever succeeded in inspiring the same amount of mingled esteem and dread. Among ourselyes the latter feeling has till quite lately predomi- nated; and most persons are familiar with the old-fashioned advice to “pare your cucumber | carefully, and after well peppering it, cast it | | forthwith out of window into the Kennel.” So | common was the feeling thus expressed that | made it the subject of a simile in a stanza | of the “Beguar's Opera:” When Polly's drest with care and cost, Ali tempting, tine and gay, As men shouid’serve a cucumber, She flings herself away. The origin of this prevailing idea it is now dif- ficult to trace, or even to conjecture. It is true that there are many varieties of the cucumber, some of which are esteemed rather tor their medicinal than their edible yirtues. Thus, the } intensely bitter colocynth of the druggist—the “bitter apple” of commerce—ts the produce of the kind known as cucumis colocynthis, nor is an occasional tendency to bitterness altogether ab- sent In thecommon cucumber. By tar the greater nuinber of the family are, however, both palata- ble and wholesome. From time immemorial they have been cultivated and eaten by the in- habitants of the east and west, and especially by the natives of Egypt and Asia, by whom | they are used indiscriminately as a frult | or vegetable, being consumed either raw or cooked or pickled in a great many different ways. By the iuxurious Romans the cucumber | was also highly prized; and so well did they un- | derstand the habit and requirements of the | plant that its fruit has perhaps never since at- tained a higher standard. It was nevertheless looked upon as a questionable article of con- sumption, and scmeiimes even regarded as act- | ively injurious; and this nothwithstanding the | fact that Tiberius insisted on the cucumber be- | ing constantly served at his repasts, and that the fashion thus set had induced his wealthier | suijects to bestow upon its cultivation all the arts of which they were masters. The common practice was to grow them in frames covered with lamin of tale; though forcing by means of fiues or hot-water pipes was also resorted to, | as well as the plan of raising the plants in large | vases which could be moved to receive tie con- | stant warmth of the sun. Betore being sown the seeds were invariably steeped In honey; a matter on which both Virgil and Pliny have much to say; the latter, moreover, insisting that the fashionable fruit was of so un- wholesome a kind that at least two clear days should be allowed for its digestion. At what date this somewhat doubtful luxury was intro- duced into England is rather obscure. It prob- | ably came to us immediately from the Nether- lands; but there is good reason for considering | it to have been common long before the period usually assizned to its first appearance—the reign of Henry VIII. But their “coldness” caused cucumbers to be universally dreaded by the faculty of the Middle Ages. The followers of Galen held them to be “cold and moist in the second degree,” un opinion not rendered much more explicit by the addition that if they were but one degree colder they would be poison. With only its classic character to depen: on, it is not surprising, therefore, that our ancestors did not take very kindly to the cucumber. What virtues it had were for a long time regarded as purely medicinal, and it once formed the foun- dation of a larger number of chemical prepara- tions than it does now even ot culinary receipts, Asa matter of fact, it is not quite certain that we make the most of this distinctive and re- freshing product. The cucumber Is best known by the average Englishman in connection with the salmon—an alliance which, both on theoreti- caland practical grounds, is no doubt to be highly commended. But its delicacy and peculiar freshness upon the palate might make it the fitting accompaniment of many more highly flavored plats than it is usually associated with. Tt seems almost hopeless to advocate its more extended use as a vegetable pure and simpie, though {t is thus amenable to treatment in a variety of forms and with the most excellent results. Cucumber soup must certainly take a fe Pee from Fa ome of palestine jough, strange 82) ce al table is much tess frenuent. truth, with some employment of the rind of the cucumber in “cup” drinks, and with Its stereotyped ap- pearance in slices—generally much overpowered with oll and vinegar—we are sufficiently con- tent; and, though great artistes of the cuisine have occasionally elicited its higher possibilities, the Englishman is satisfi¢d that these should make their appeal to whom they may more nearly concern. There is, however, a use for the cucumber unaccreaited and too little known or appreciated. In the sick chamber, and when ice is with difficulty obtained, slices of cucumber laid upon a hot or aching head are anpremely grateful and refreshing. In this form, ine the cucumber is worth all the washes and extracts that have ever been from it; though, as Cul; gentler readers, “‘the juice of a cellent good for sun-burning and freck! | into one. He sort o° gives the place life when he | street,” answered the contractor. categorically. tT GREEN HOUSE OCCUPANTS, Not Fruit nor Tropical Plants—People whe do Not Pay Hent, but Always Live in New Rows of Houses and Vanish with the Dampness of the Walls, From the Philadelphia Times, There was something of wonder in the mind of the quiet, meditative old gentleman who stopped on the corner of 59th street and York avenue in the middle ot his yesterday afteraoon walk asto why Hat Box row liad found tenants 80 soon. block, hurrying by: “they're green houses. Here, d—n you, that mortar won't mix with- out elbow grease,” he continued, chucking half a brick in the direction of a lazy laborer, who was tenderly fondling the staying power ot another Hat Box row with a hoe. “But I don’t see any giass in the roofs” re- plied the meditative old gentleman, standing | curiously on his tip-toes to look at the slates. “What do you mean: “Green houses ain't no places where yon raise night-bloomin’ serious or catamai. al continued the contractor, chuckin; half of hts brick at a Italian worl dolce far nienting a foundation. are new houses that beats live in. I have built five hundred houses this year,” continued the contractor, “which have been’ occupied in the first place by families who took the green of the houses.” “What dose that mean?” queried the mild old gentleman. WIPING THE “GREEN” OFF. “Gettin’ the damp off ‘em, of course,” an- swered the contractor, scornfully. “Of those five hundred houses, I was goin’ to say before you interrupted me, there ain't two hundred that ain't bought or rented by rieponsible par- ties to-day. By risponsible parties,” repeated the contractor. “There are ten thousand peo- es 1 guess,” ho continued thoughtfully, “in hiladelphia to-day livin’ in green houses. Most | of em hez alius lived in green houses. Most of | “em allus will live in green houses. I've got a family that has lived in forty green houses in twenty years. They cot married to live in green houses. They reared their children to expect green houses for their homes. They live in | green houses to-day. A daughter of one of their families was engaged from one green house and marsied from another one. Hang me ifone man didn’t die in Allegheny avenue and had to be buried from Dickinson street. You see the w! th children’s heads.” But what's the sense of it?” queried the mild old man. “Well, there's some sense in hi to live in,” answered the contra 4 quiet refinement of sarcasm of which the mild old gentleman had not thought him capable. “Of course, ot course, to them.” the mild old man hastened to say, apologetically; “but what's the eense to you?” THE OWNEN’S GAIN. “Would you like to be the first man to buy into asquare?” asked the contractor. “No, of course you wouldh’'t. But the minute you see one house occupied, the kids sprawling about the verandy—I mean the pizarro—the close lines flyin’ the family wash in the wind, the lit- tle red flannel shirte, and so forth ind so forth, you want to move right in where a man can live £0 happily. Now, I've noticed,” continued the nfly, ‘that a house ain't ahouse estimation till somebody's lived in it. These'ere rows of brick and mortar ain’t nothin’ but brick and mortar till some one gets comes, see? That's one advantage of a green houser. It's better than the fanciest kind of an advertisement and it don't cost nothin’. An- other thing is it actually does dry the walls; gets the damp out of em, Unless a man builds a house himself he'd much rather buy one to live in which some one else has occupied, “spe- ciall n with croapy children.” : rv does this honeycomb of sham house- holders extend in this city of homes?” asked the mild old man, somewhat disillusioned. “I know forty green housers on Diamond “I know ten in W. squares ot Lancaster avenue. Where do you live?” he asked suddenly, turning to the old gentleman, ambria street,” faltered the old man, a horrible suspicion crossing his mind. “The worst one in the lot,” chuckled the con- tractor, “There's whole blocks of green tionses | there. How do I know youain't a green houser yourself?” Appalied by this suggestion, the mild old man fled and abandoned the idea which he had | bored of buying one ot the contractor's lous THE BARONESS CouTrTs As She Appears in Her Box at the London Lyceum Theater. adelphia on eigh London Irtter to New York Mail and Express. I visited the Lyceum theater (Irving's) the other night and saw some notable people there. Miss Terry’s sister, Mrs. Lewis, occupied one box the night I write of, which the actress’ two little children shared with her. The elder of these is a girl of about 14, who does not look in the least like a Terry. She is a brunette, with a serious, pensive face, while the boy ts the very image of his mother. The Baroness Burdette-Coutts owns and occupied the next box, which is a very large one. Her young husband, alway with her, is a fine, manly look- | ing fellow, apparently not over 82 or 33, while she, the richest woman in all England, is surely not far this side of 60. She Is a little meek-faced creature, utterly without style or distinction in either appearance or manner—and as to her dress! I have been trying to think of some one in America whom she resembles, but I can’t. At all events she Is small, sight, and very round-shouldered, quite of an enfeebled old lady. Her bair | is of @ muddy brown, and is now parted in the middle, and ‘elther plastered smoothly down | over the temple or on state occasions slightly | inflated on either side, giving her the appear- | ance of being about to lose her blinders. She has small, light blue eyes, a straight mouth, with thin Ips and a small nose—not at all an unpleasant face, and the farthest in the world from a severe one. It is easy enough to see how she would grow to be very dependent on the erson who happened to be much with her if sympathetic to her. She wore a pale blue silk gown the evening that I saw her, and over it was festooned a black Chantilly lace overdress or something sort; at all events, it was all awry, and the ers intended for the middle of the back were around on the side in a bunch, while the fesfoon arranged for the side was dangling in front. This failure to understand each other, so evi- dent between gown and overdress, did not con- tribute to the dignity and elegance of the dis- tinguished wearer. Neither did her head deco- ration have that effect. In fact, I do wish Eng lish matrons would either eschew their wretched little topknots entirely, which you may say that “Oh, they,”answered the contractor of another had to move to keep a roof over | Use every day, Jay alittle stick ac bring them back again Mazoned with some new lie in heraldry “Marry, Andromeda. an‘ thy wits are ripe!” “Would that me father's were as ripe, Heme rico, for often hath he poised him on the very verge where failure would have whelmed us with its weal, and then some hint of oldeatime integrity would win him trom't, and like a dog, he'd back to work for honor and the empty fame it brings. Q, good me lord? well is it suid thas | he who helps himself sets quickest i’ the tide of | booming fortune!” \ | From Harper's Rezar. So muci informa mn abont everrthi so easily obtalnabie that there is. hth for enduring many of the small domestic wor- ries to which housekeepers and others are often excuse subjected. Why, for Instance, need any one be inconvenienced by damp cupboards, when we | Tead that a bow! of quicklime placed therein | Will speedily absorb the moisture? Some of us are nervous about beds nut being well aired, and yet we have only to fill a large stone bottle with boiling water and put it into the bed, pressing the bolster ard piliows round itinaheap. By this simple contrivance, it is comforting t | no one need fear giving a frffnd a damp even if this is done oniy once a tortnizht Files are a familiar nuisance; but are told ot a remedy in laurel oll, which, better than glass fly-cal rs and ot! will not only rid us of these pests, but preserves looking-glasses and pictare-frames when coated with it. Jane, the “help,” should derive satistaction from the | Assurance that beetles may be effectually got | rid of by sprinkling once or twice on the floor @ | mixture of pure carbolic acid and water, one past to ten. |" tis not frequenters of restaurants only who arn, | Wonder why the simple precaution of throwing | red pepper pods or a few pieces of charcoal Into the pan—said to prevent odors from boiling | ham. cabbage, ete.—is not oftener observed. Cooks are further reminded that in roasting meat, salt should not be put upon the joint | before it is put in the oven, as salt extracts the Juice: and that lime-water will Improve the coa- dition of old potatoes in boiling. Eggs could be purchased with greater confl- dence if the German method of presery: by means of silicate of so lowed. A smnall quantity of the clear syrup so- | lution Is smeared over the surface of the shell. } On drying, a thin, bard, glassy Mm remain | which ‘serves as an admirable protection an substitute for wax, oll, cums, etc. conomy in housekeeping would be facilitated by the better observance of what are known in For example, y s, when their | Quality can be tested by pricking them with @ pin? If they are good the oi! will instantly | Spread around the puncture. It is worth lecting that bar soap should be cut into square pieces and put ina dry place, as it lasts better If We wish to keep lemons y to place them in a jar of water and change norning. In selecting flour we are advised t to the color. It it is white with a yellowish etraw-color tint, we should buy it; but it it!s white with a bluish cast or with black specks, we shoula re- fuse it. Broken china can be mended with a useful giutine made with a piece of old cheese mixed with Ime; and the wooden palings of the garden may be preserved from the weather by coating them with a composition of botled line seed oil and pulverized charcoal, mixed to the consistence of paint. In this way wood can be made to last longer than iron In the ground. It we consult our health, we should plant the garden with odoriferous planta, such as wall- flowers, mignonette and other old-fashioned flowers and herbs, arkable power of developing ozoue and purifying the atmosphere from miasmatic poison: Amateur Joiners may derive comfort from the knowledge’ that nails and sere if rubbed with @ little soap, are easily driven into hard | wood. The same household commodity, of a fine white quality, ifrubbed oyer new linen, will enable it to be more casily embroidered, as i | prevents the threads from cracking. A deal ot oreakaze amongst glass | ery can de preveuted by the simple yy | of placing lamp chimneys, tumblers, and such | articles in a pot filed with old water to which some common table salt has been added. Boll | the water well, and then allow it to cool slowly. | When the articles are taken out and washed, they will resist any sudden changes of temperae ture. Crape may be renovated by thorough j ing all dust from the material, | alcohol, and rollin with the paper and c paper may be betw | terial. Allow itt | A better plan for r | by applying a hot i wine with the hand to powder, and t Every schooi-boy j after shrinking. | resh for some time we have on id creck. ecantion portion of te ma- ain 80 until dry wease spots than spirit of brongit no trace it Qn ntil the g1 will be y is not aware that ink be removed from the leaves of be ing a solution of oxalic acid in wa every house-maid know that “ap are cleaned from varnished furniture by rubbing it with spirit of camphor. r Marks on tables caused by leaving hot Jugs o, plates there will disappear under the soothing a influence of lamp-oil well rabbed in with a s cloth, finishing with a littie gpirit ot wine or de cologne rubbed dry with another cloth. Whe the white piano-forte keys become dis: a we should remove the front door, fall, and slip of wood just over them; then lift up each key separately from the tront—do not take them ont—and rub the keys with a white cloth slightly damped with cold .water, and dry off with a cloth slightiy warm. Should the keys be sticky, first damp the cloth with a little it of wine or gin. Soap or washing powder must not be used. It is worth while keeping a supply of ammonis in the household, in case we wish to remove finger marks frow paint, or require to cleanse brushes or greasy pans, A teaspoonfal in a basin of warm watet will make hair brushes beautifully white; but care must be taken not to let the backs of the brushes dip below the sur- face. Rinse them with clean warm water, aud put in a sunny window to dry. Ege-shells crashed into small bits and shaken well In decanters three parts filled with cold water will not only clean them thorou, . but make the glass look like new. By rubbing with adamp flannel dipped in best whiting. the brown discolorations may be taken off cups In which custards have been baked. Again, are all of us aware that emory powder will remove or- dinary stains from white ivory knite handles, or the luster of morocco leather is restored by varnishing with white of egg? Nothing, it is said, is better to clean silver vith than alcohol and ammonia, finishing with little whiting on a soft cloth. When putting away the silver tea or collee pot whichis not in pss the top under the cover. This will allow fresh air to get in, and prevent the mustiness of the con- tents familiarto hotel and bearding-house suf- fere PPP EER coo It A L 885 oe = cor AA L an FE goff AE Sss8 bP EER OCU HT aA [hide ‘We open to-day 500 doz. of they are not likely to do for my asking, or 1 wish they would find some way of fastening them so they will stay put. Nothing can be more absurd than a row of dignified old dow- agers, each with her unsteady headgear nodding i and waving with every slightest motion, and any one who has ever seen a cage of weary old cockatoos will instantly see the resemblance. WHY SHE WENT TO NEWPORT. Thrillingly Told ® Trade Secret ru "Rudremeda te Henrico "7 From the Yonkers Gazette. _ “Andromeda, there be such, tidings i’ the air this morn as will thine interest fire to fervid fever.” “This likes mine ear, good sir, for I've but just returned from formal round, and hints my arm of something like the ‘shakes.’” “This is thy preparation fit, me maid, for there is farther agitation in me news.” “Give it me then, that I may break me Quaker silence with a quake.” “Have at thee, damosel! Thou knowest Lu- eullas Marcia?” “He that is sire to that Jade Beatrice, whose alti freights the Sabbath air with onion taints?” “The same, Andromeda!” “I know him as the parent of a witch whure garments fit her as doth pod fit the banthag pea.” “Or, as these fit thine ear, mayhap. This same Lucall reia hath suspension made and weighs his assets i’ the lesser scale.” “Hath what, Henrico? Pare off the furbish- ments of this, thy news, and give it me in naked Anglo-Saxon.” “Tt being yet a strinling bit of news, thus do strip it. girl. Lucullus, then, hath failed!” —_ “Failed, saldst thou? Failed! Oh, that the fates had spared me this, Henrico!” “Spared thee which? Why, thou bedizened one, this hampers not thy credit nor thy ig a eer fore should it grieve thee, ay) PriGrieve me, th beetlehead! Dost though GENTS UNLAUNDRIED SHIRTS, which we consider THE BIGGEST BARGAIN EVER OFFERED, ‘They are mado of GENUINE UTICA NONPAREIL COTTON, 2100 Linen Bosom, Wrist Bands and Bands Reinforced, COMPLETELY FINISHED, FELLED SEAMS, GUSSETED, which we sell at os es as Sh, CRACH ba al ACTUAL VALU 980 5.B. APERFECT FIT GUARANTEED OR MONEE BAU RTS. Sss5> 6 TTR STREET NORTHWEST. aus C. PLANT, Jn, 72 6TH STREET Ni Le ete RS | ‘Other Tonics yZ-co ‘THE CONCORD COLLAR. of we on ieee soc a. “com. ike ae Se (Ue, Carriege and Roud Jarncss & cpec-uith LUIZ & BRO, rey a es ~ it. nA cena é runk: in » ’ wine CON D bas EEE SIS ae Sens See res eee, muscles, steadics the perves, enriches the sives Rew Vigus. avai-co