Evening Star Newspaper, July 19, 1890, Page 7

A Perfect Mine of Things That Use in the World. © PROVIDES SUPPORT FOR EVER 80 MANY PEO- PLE IN VARIOUS WAYS—SOME BRING TO IT AXD OTHERS TAKE AWAY—HARDLY AN ARTICLE YoU CaNNOT ORT THERE 1F YOU WANT IT. N ASH DUMP. What in this world % more utterly emblematic, as one might say, of worthlessness: It pro duces uothing and is made wholly of what people have thrown away. And yet, in truth, an ash dump is actually a mine of wealth, affords a livelihood to many persons and supplies much that is of use in the world. ‘There isan ash dump close by Rock creek and near this side of the P street bridge. It is one of the biggest of such depositories for the refuse of Washington. To thi it is nothing more thanagreat heap of dirt. Intelligent Observation, however, shows that it is very much more, All day long colored men are driving loaded ash carts upon ihe heap and dumping them. They get 10 cents for every barrel ful! they dispose of in this way. “Dar would be money in de business, sah, ‘aid one of the ash men yesterday toa STAR Peporter. “ef oniy dar wasn't so many im it. But comp'tition am so brisk dat dere’s Bot nuff ashes made dis time ob year to pay a cuilud gemman fer cartin’ ‘em. In winter, when de furnaces is agoin’ and wuk is plenty, I kin make #3 a day rightalong. Besides, dere’ der pickin’s. All de ole clo’es an’ such stuff dat I get among the rubbish am puckwisits. of cose, You see, sah, dat when I clean out a cellar [fm apt ter come across some vallyble thmgs, like ole bottles an’ pots an’ such like. Lbave orders ter take eberyt’ing away, an’ I do it. But most years I don’t ash in summer *eause dere ain't nuff money in it.” ASH-DUMP ETIQUETTE. The ash dump has its etiquette and regula- tious as strict as those of the drawing-room. To begin with, each cartman must await his proper turn for emptying his load. The great dump at P street, for instance, is established for the purpose chiefly of filling in what was once an enormous hole. Already many bun- dred square feet of land suitable for residences, and very valuable, has been made in this way and elevated somewhat above the level of the adjoining streets. In this manner alone the pile may be said to have createa « fortune and to be making dollars every day. tis under the supervision of an overseer, who takes care that the dumping shall be done in the proper places, and each cart must take its turn in reaching the spot where the deposits are to be made for the time beimg, in the due course of the dump’s construction. Among the people who gather things upon the ash-dump a rigid set of rulesas to pro- priety and rights is observed. For instance, ko lady would think of intruding upon a pile of broken bricks already pre-empted by another lady. Nor would one gentleman seek to pos- seus himself of an old shoe that another gentle- man had previously put his foot on. It may be that at some ash-dumps a heap of assorted cor- sete and bustles accumulated by one lady would be cabbaged by another lady while the first lady was away at luneh; but such a thing has never occurred at P street. ‘There a on these points and many others is exceedingly strict, WHAT WOMEN GET. All day long women go to and from the ash dump with baskets on their heads filled with broken bricks and crockery and such stuff. They carry it to con- tractors who are build- - ing im the neighbor- hood and are glad to buy it at the rate of $1 a tip-eart load. It does Rot take so very many basketfuls to fill a cart, and the women make better wages by this sort of labor than they could easily earn at anything else. Many of them only devote to basket carrying such leisure as they have in- cidentally to other oc- cupations. The bricks are mostly refuse from new buildings that is carted to the dump to get rid of it. By the contractors who pur- chase it it is broken up very fine and made into @ mixture for concrete. ‘The women get many things beside broken bricks that have value. O14 medicine bottles are prizes to them; they can get 24 cents a dozen for them at the apothecary’s. Old shoes are treasures, too. If they are not good enough to wear as they are they are either sold to the junk man or taken toa cobbler. The business of reorganizing old d apparently worn-out shoes is quite a considerable one, though so little is known of it. Itisafar-gone shoe in- deed that is not worth something. In the worst case there is almost sure to be some part of the leather that is perfectly good; it may be only the heel piece or part of the upper, but the shoe has a value, though it be only two or three cents. Cobbling on tootwear of this class is somewhat different from ordinary work of the kind, partaking more of what surgeons call “heroic” treatment. For example, the “‘reno- vator” of such things thinks nothing of slicing off the the entire rear half of ashoe that is gone jn front and attaching to it the front half of a shoe that has gone behind; or the re- made shoe that he produces may be composed of « dozen unrelated parts, There is a regular market for renovated shoes in New York city, and thousands of pairs are sent from here to the metropolis in the crude state every year. Gop PICKING. Picking is always good on the ash dump because the carts are continually making fresh deposits. If this supply was shut off the vile would cease within twenty-four hours to be productive. Each day whatever is of value is taken away, and thus ouly the surface affords anything of worth to the searcher for stray findings. Only on the surface does the small boy browse for good coals, with the fragments of what was once an umbrella held over his head to keep the hot July sun off. He and others engaged like him fill tin kettles and paper flour bags with the “cinders,” as they call them, and take them home on wheelbarrows for the kitchen fire. Old rags and paver are gathered 7 by the women and sold to the ok man. All sorts of rags there are on the ash dump, from silk to calico, and all sorts of paper from cream- laid note to waste stuff t bas been taken from under carpets — = in the spring and thrown away. The junk men will buy it all; there is nothing they will not paj something for. Paper is worth $1 a hundred- weight, but it takes a lot of grubbing to get to- ether 100 pounds of it, Kags fetch varying prices, depending upon what sort thev are. For old shoes the junk men pay according to their degree of preservation and for clothing of all sorts likewise. Even tin cans are care- fully collected for rolling out into fashionable tiles for roofing shanties. In the spring contrac- tors come and dig in the great heap for ashes, of which they cart away vast quantities for mak- ie ® mixture of which this is a recipe: ‘Take three wheelbarrow loads of sand, four wheelbarrow loads of ashes and three wheel- barrow loads of asphaitum. Mix them to- gether thoroughly with water and then the Preparation is ready to use. Ordinarily it is oa for the cementing of cellar pir (obey ment ) ® coat of regular cement bei put on top of it, But these are only a few of the various ways in which the useft of ash dumps is developed. ————__ Seven Hours’ Sleep at Least. ‘F. DeWitt Talmage in the Ladies’ Home Journal. There is not one man or woman in ten thou- sand who can afford to do without seven or eight hours’ sleep. All those stories written about great men and women who slept only three or four hours a night make very interest- img reading,but 1 tell you, my readers, no man er yet kept them so nervous and the insaue asylums so lous. If youcan get to bed , then rise early. If you can not get to bed till late, all THE EVENING STAR: WASHIN a, GTON, D. C.. and say « 9,.1890-SIXTEEN PAGES, Eruption. Written for Tre Evexine Stan OR CENTURIES Iceland, that strange d of frost and fire, was the only country where those mysterious natural fountains of boiling water, called geysers, were known. The discoveries of the last half century show that the Danish ise is more than rivalled by New dand our own Yellow- stone Park. In thelatter place there are in- deed no active volcanoes, but geysers and hot springs are abundant and far outnumber those found elsewhere in the world put together. Here also is the monarch of all geysers “Ex- celsior.” Ihad seen the wonders of “Geyserland” be- fore, but not the great Excelsior in eruption. When uews reached us that this geyser was “gain active we determined to make another pilgrimage to see this, the world’s eyser. On reaching the park our anxiety jest the monster should ceuse its eruptions ere GREAT EXCELSIOR GEYSER. | REFUSE FOOD OF THE cry. Are of | A Graphic Desertp:iv:n of Its Wonderful | What Becomes of it and the Profitable Pickings it Affords. wooden buckets through “the back alley way sound- ed like “ops-ops!” But what he was after was evidently garbage, judg- ing from the unsavory odors which exhaled from the stuff he collected at the rear gates. What he got in this way he poured into big barrels on a large two-horse truck, and, his load being full, he drove off presently and pro- ceeded toward the foot of South Capitol street, greatest | where there is a dump for such refuse, No sooner was the load deposited at the i da few we had seen it led us to leave the Mammoth | ump than aswarm of children, women,anda f Hot —- the next morning and to ride | men gathered about the unpleasant collection throug! Morning, greatly mountain air, we started forth feeling that we were rapidly nearing our goal, After a brisk ride through sweet-scented pines we came sud- denly upon a large open space covered with brilliant white deposit shining in the morning sun, Here and there great clouds of steam were rising, while away across the flat close, to the river was a tremendous cloud, beneath which came rumblings and growlings to be distinctly heard even at that distance. We hastily dismounted, thinking this might be the sigual for a performance on the part of his ma . Walking quickly .across the glaring ahs nd we Gamelan arriving close to the brink of this awful Bowl that the geyser Was not expected to erupt for some minutes, 80 as it was impossible to look into the crater, owing to the steam, we turned to examine this curious region.’ Like the other geyser basins this one is surrounded by pine covered slopes that form a deep green back- sround for all this whiteness. ‘Hell's half acre,” surely it has been grossly maligned; cer- tainly it is a very not place, but there is noth- ing hellish about it uniess one expects to find much beauty in that dreaded region. Where be- fore has one seen such exquisite coloring as is here presented in the hot aud boiling pools and in the richly tinted overflow? From palest pos- sible shade of tender green to deep rich blue. From faintest, daintiest shell pink to deep dark red. On approaching close to these great steaming cauldrons I was at first oppressed by # feeling akin to fear, but their beauty is allur- ingand I soon found myself peering with eager eyes into the blue depths below. Turn- ing away with a shudder, half of fear, half of ecstacy, my eyes rest on the prismatic spring whose waters flow over the terraced slope on their way to the river. The channels are posi- tively gaudy, their linings of soft gelatinous growth are sometimes all brilliant yellow, look- ing like streams of molten gold; again there will be reds and bright greens gleaming be- neath the flowing waters. Prismatic lak largest by far of the springs in this area, ap- pears to be almost circular. In the center where the water is deepest it is of a deep ma- rine blue; this gradually shades into emerald green, which passes insensibly into yellow at borders, AN EXPLOSION, While still gazing fascinated by all this beauty our attention was suddenly claimed by 4n unusually loud explosive noise from Excel- sior, followed by a thrashing of the waters. ‘This seemed a sort of final signal for an erup- tion. so we hurried across the flat and took up our position as near the brink as safety would permit on the side away from the steam. The thrashing noise of the waters became louder and more angry. Suddenly the water shot up into the airten or fifteen teet, subsided, then up again higher, and scarely had the water fallen than there was a grand explosion, a booming like a cannon, and before our de- lighted eyes there shot up a seething, spark- ling torrent snow white and flinging fan- shaped jets vat in all directions. ‘the very earth seemed shaken as great pieces of rocks were torn off the crater walls and flung high mato the air, falling dangeronsly near us. With one more grand explosion the water rose to a height of more than two hundred feet. There for a single instant it towered trembling, while we watched the great glistening drops hang- ing in mid-air, shining and flashing like dia- monds. ‘Then, as if content with this grand exhibition and scorning to attempt anything further the geyser gradually subsided, each out- burst being a little less mighty than the last till the waters were merely surging waves that lashed the crater walls. A tremendous quant- ity of water had been thrown out and was rushing down the bank into the river. The cauldron itself is 200 feet across and now it was possible to obtain glimpses through the steam into the awful abyss. From the brink down to the water is a distance of about 15 feet; the walls of white formation, having rough, shelf-like pesjections that overhang the seeth- ing waters. The whole eruption had not occu- pied more than two minutes, and I turned away and walked across to where our waiting horses stood. It was like a dream with a vision before my eyes of a brilliant white earth, wonderfully deep clear blue sky and masses of exquisite liquid color impossible to describe. A. W.W. 3 oo A Poem by Gen. Fremont. To the Editor of Tux EvENixe Stan: It may interest those of your readers who knew the honored and lamented Fremont in his heroic charactor of patriot, soldier and explorer only to be reminded by his poetic genius, which seldom found expression in verse, but which marked every phase of his unexampled career. Those who were privi- leged to see and know him nearer know that the same lofty ideals that inspired his bril- liant achievements spread likewise a tender and delicate charm over each act and relation of his daily life. No one can fail to find a true heart chord touched in the *-Lines,” as he with characteristic modesty styled the appended ™m, pemsilea ‘on the stray leaves of a note k during the days of a dreary journey and sent to his wife. The Poem was first pub- hed, at the request of friends, in Littell’s ving Age, and afterward in the collection of “Songs” made by John Greenleaf Whittier, wherein the poet designed to gather up “the wisest thoughts, rarest fancies and devoutest hymns of the metrical authors of the last three centuries.” x On Recrossing the Rocky Mountains in Winter, After Many Years, Joun CHARLES FREMONT. Long years ago I wandered here, In the midsummer of the year,— Life’s summer, too; A score of horsemen here we rode, ‘The mountain world its glories showed, All fair to view. ‘These scenes in glowing colors drest, Mirrored the life within my breast, Its world of hopes; ‘The whispering woods and fragrant breeze ‘That stirred the grass in verdant seas On billowy slopes, And glistening crag in sunlit sky, Mid snowy clouds piled mountain high, Were joys to me; My path was o'er the prairie wide Or here on grander mountain side To choose, all free. ‘The rose that waved in morning air, And spread its dewy fragrance there In careless bloom, Gave to my heart its ruddiest hue, O’er my giad lite its color threw And sweet perfume, ‘Now changed the scene and changed the eyes, | to the line, and » ‘That here once Icoked on glowing skies, Where summer smiled; ‘These riven trees, this windswept plain Now show the winter's dread domain, Its fury wild. ‘The rocks rise black from storm-packed snow, All checked the river's pleasant flow, Vanished the bloom, ‘These dreary wastes of frozen plain Reflect my bosom's life again, Now lonesome gloom. * ‘The buoyant hopes and busy life Have ended ali in hateful strife And thwarted aim. ‘The world's rude contact killed the rese, ‘No more its radiant color shows, ‘Where stili some grand peaks mark the way, ‘Touched by the light of parting day And memory's sun But here, thick clouds the mountains hide, ‘The dim horison bleak and wide dnd tah poate saath gusts, and Tell of “the night that cometh” sign ‘The briet day's close. 1 ——ro— Chins's solitary railroad is 81 miles and costs 4 000.0 mile, Is uses’ American locos to the Firehole that day. The second | of waste material and helped themselves with igorated by the crisp | avidity to whatever they considered valuable init, Some picked up bones and morsels of fat, with which they filled pails, carry- ing the stuff as fast as it was sorted out in this way to a fertilizer factory close by, where they received one cent for every two pounds, Such bones ground up make the most expensive sort of fertilizer, while the fat is available for soap among other thi Other searchers among the debris carefully appropriated selected cabbage leaves, potatoes, pleces of bread, &c. They were foraging for the pigs. No one seemed to mind the flavors of the dump, which mingled in one indesorib- able bouquet under the warm rays of a mid- summer sun. On the contrary, every body seemed to enjoy what evidently possessed for them something of the element of attraction found in gambling. For there was no telling what treasures might be disclosed by the raking and hoeing over of these fragments from @ thousand houses, Lo! from one of the hunters for spoil a “yah, yah!” of delight goes up as she displays a solid silver oyster fork just extricated from the rubbish. HOW VALUABLES GET INTO THE DUMP. Such valuables are not infrequently found at @ garbage dump. It quite often happens when an entertainment is given at some great house that spoons or forks get mixed up by careless servants with the waste food that goes frum the tables to the city scavenger. In this and other ways not only silferware but various ar- ticles of worth reach the refuse pile. Some- times bits of unbroken and handsome crockery reward the searcher at the foot of South Capitol street, At the other dumping place, G street and 27th, no one is allowed to pick the rubbish over. It is put on a scow and conveyed down the river, where it is utilized in the raw state for fertilizing Virginia farms, being strewn over the land and plowed in. The scow takes one load per day, averaging about fifteen tons. A contractor has the job from the health depart- ment of keeping the District soavenged. He attends to the whole business and sells the gar- buge by the ton to planters, A GARBAGE COLLECTOR'S VIEWS. “The wust point about my perfession is the bother I get from crank women,” said a gar- bage man to a Star reporter. “Seems to me they all have a spite to take out on us fellers. Tuever talk back at’em, ‘cause it wouldn't do no good; but I jest let’em chin an’ chin and ay no sorter attention. One thing makes me inder tired. You know, it very often happens that the cook at a house has some arrangement with acountryman who comes and gets what stuff she has for his pigs reg'lar. Sometimes the cook gives the stuff to the countryman out of friendship, but most times he pays her a dollar a week or so, accordin’ to how much she has. Now, in a case like that the cOok refuses to give the garbage to us, and so we quit goin’ to that house after a while, seein’ that it’s no use, ‘Then comes a time when the countryman suddenly stops comin’ to the house. and the garbage gits thick. ‘The fust thing we know there 1s trouble about it, We don’t hear any- thing ourselves from the cook or the folks in the house, but complaint is made to the health department, and we are held responsible. In hot weather we make more mouey than in winter, ‘cause people pay us often 50 cents or 75 cents a week to collect their garbage evory day, instead of the twice a week we're obliged to. It's astonishin’ how much some folks object to the smell of garbage. I don’t see nothin’ specially disagreeable about it. Lused to go toa flat house where several families lived every day about 6 o'clock in the evening. bat I had to choose another time, "cause the landiord said that the folks was all at dinner at that hour and that they didn't like to have a howl of ‘swill! swill!’ come up the dumb-waiter shaft just as they was sittin’ down to the meal. Some people are so cranky 'bout things, yo know.” In Paris where nothing is permitted to be wasted, use is carefully made of every fragment of garbage. All the refuse food of the city is dumped into great pits built for the purpose and covered layer after layer with lime and earth, When it has become entirely inoffen- sive through natural processes, it is taken fromthe pits and utilized for fertilizing pur- poses. ———_—_+e+______ AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA, Wonders of the Deep—The Track of the Cable. From the Ocean. At the depth of about 8,500 feet waves are not felt, The temperature is the same, varying only a trifle from the ice of the pole to the burning sun of the equator. A mile down the water has a pressure of over a ton to the square inch. If a box six feet wide were filled with sea water and allowed to evaporate under the sun, there would be two inches of salt left on the bottom. Taking the average depth of the ocean to be three miles there would be a layer of pure salt 230 feet thick on the bed of the Atlantic. The water is colder at the bottom than at the surface. In the many bayson the coast of Norway the water often freezes at the bottom before it does above. Waves are very decepti To look at them in a storm one would think the water traveled. The water stays in the same place, but the motion goes on. Some- times in storms these waves are 40 feet high, | and travel 60 miles an hour—more than twice ay fast as the swiftest ateamship, The dis- tance from valley to valley is generally fifteen times the height, hence a wave five feet high will extend over 75 feet of water. The force of the sea dashing on Bell Rock is said to be sev- enteen tons for each square yard. Evaporation is a wonderful ae in drawing the water from the sea. 'y year a layer of the entire sea, 14 feet thick, is taken up into the clouds. ‘The winds bear their burden into the land and the water comes down in rain upon the fields to flow back at last through rivers. The depth of the sea presents an interesting problem. If the Atlantic were lowered from 6 bea feet the distance from shore to shore would be half ‘as great, or 1,500 miles. If lowered a little more than three miles, say 19,680 feet, there would be a road of dry land from Newfound- land to Ireland, This is the les on which the great Atlantic cables were laid) The Med- iterranean is comparatively shallow. A drying up of 660 feet would leave three different seas, and Africa would be pee with taly. ‘The British channel is more like a pond, which accounts for its choppy waves. It has been found difficult to get the correct sound- ings of the oy ae A midshipman of the navy overcame the difficulty, and shot weigh- ing 30 pounds carries down the line, A hole is bored through the sinker, through which a rod of iron is passed, moving easily and forth. In the en of the bar a cup is dug out, and the inside coated with lard. bar is made fast sling holds the shot on, When the bar, which extends below the ball, touches the earth, the sling unhooks and the lard in the end of the bar shot slides off. The holds some of the sand, or whatever be on the bottom, and a drop shuts over the cup to keep the water from ing the sand out. When the ground is reached a shock is felt, as if an electric current had passed through the ———_+oo—_____ Eight Words and All the Letters. From the Albany Argus. Half a dozen members of the Press Club were discussing the peculiarities of the English language the other evening whea Dr. F. E. 38 if i i reutitie TAKING TO THE WOODS. A Washingtonian’s Outing ia the Blue Ridge Mountains. OFF BOR A HOLIDAY—THE TRIP TO HAGERS- TOWN—FIGHTING IXSECTS AT NIGHT—RBEAUTI- FUL SCENERY—REMINISCENCES OF THE WAR— “YOUNG BUCK's” STORY—THE OLD TURNPIKE. Ix THe Casntows Mrs, July 16. dence of Tas EVENT <6 STAR. HEN the chimes of Saint Aloysius an- nounce that it is 5:30 o'clock as the Hagerstown train pulled out of the Baltimore and Ohio depot, I left be- hind me the cares of the Government Printing Office for an outing all to myself. In all my years of service it is the first time I have had a full, free thirty days, and I proposed to make the most of it. My first objective point was Hagerstown, from which I intended to take to the woods. I did not lay out a formal Program, desiring to cut myself adrift and float wheresoever the tides of fate might carry me. The following constituted my outfit: One umbrella, one wire hair brush, two woolen shirte—one in satchel, one extra pair socks, three handkerchiefs, two neckties, one small satchel—borrowed from wife; weight of all about five pounds. With my experience up to date I would suggest a further reduction in the direction of light maching order—leave everything bebind except the umbrella It goes without saying that the ride to Hagers- town is enjoyable—such landscape as skirts the route can scarcely be excelled either for beauty or historic interest. On the train was the col- onel of the late twenty-third Virginia cavalry, now a Representative in Congress, who pointed out where his command encamped during the Early raid on Washington. hen he ascer- tained that I was also a cavalryman of the federal service he seemed to warm up, closing & pleasant interview with the somewhat up- pleasant reminder that the = of both armies were well advanced in life and would soon be gone from the scene of their past trials. We varted at Weverton, he to the Shenandoah valley and the undersigned into Pleasant valley. To the Participants in the Antictam campaign the Scenery now becomes familiar. A man sitting across the aisle informed me that he was bora in Keedysville during the battle—an incident that enables him to fix the date of his birth with accuracy, it is hardly necessary to say. Aswe sped along I was reminded of a war story. it 4 WAR sTorY, “Young Buck” was, and, for that matter, still is, the familiar name of a once stalwart member of that gallant command, the fifth United States cavalry, A day or two éfter the battle of Antietam he found, doubled up ina ditch, a desperately wounded rebel soldier, whom he assisted to a more comfortable situa- tion, supplied his necessities as best he could and left him amid a shower of benedictions, In July of the following year in the neighbor- hood of Upperville Gap in the Blue Ridge mountains, if I remember the story aright, one dark night young Buck’s horse was shot and killed, He feli on his rider, crushing the lower ortion of young Buck’s stomach, and holding Fira totheearth. Here the soldier lay all night and the most of the next day, suffering untold tortures, In the afternoon he saw two rebel soldiers coming down the side of the mountain, and called to them come and killhim. They came and on drawing near one of them scanned him closely and exclaimed—and I do not be- lieve the recording angel noticed the pro- fanity— “By God, I know you. You're the man that helped me at Sharpaburg.” So the two rebels lifted the dead horse off young Buck, got a wagon and hauled him over to Front Royal and there left him in a hospital. In due time Buck got well enough to be pa- roled, and after his exchange returned to duty. ‘The year 1866 found him still in the service, stationed at Jackson, Miss.,I think, isting the freedman’s bureau in its operation, ‘was now a non-commissioned officer. One day he wag ordered to Yazoo City in charge of a small force on some errand. I think the dis- tance is about twenty miles, About half way over he halted his party at a plantation to get water, and was met by the planter in person. It was the late rebel soldier, who used more profanity than ever, and pressed Buck to re- main until the next day. The soldierly instinct of the regular, however, would not admit of this, since he was on duty, but the planter pre- vailed on him tocome to the house,as he wanted him to sce his wife. From the latter he received a kindly greeting, with the remark that she had often heard about the Yankee who had so generously assisted her husband in the hour of his dire need. On parting the planter wrote down his name and address, saying to young Buck if he ever needed a friend to appl to him and he would respond. Young Bucl took the paper rather mechanically, not desiring to wound the man’s feeling by a refusal, but feeling that no occasion was likely to arise for its use. Time passed on, Buck began to feel the effects of his injury, which intensified until he was finally disabled. Then he was compelled to ask assistance and applied fora pension. To his surprise he found himself recorded as a de- serter, due to his non-appearance the few days subsequent to the killing of his horse, and the way to his relief was effectually blocked. Thus the case stood for thirteen years. One day, during an interview with the commissioner of pensions, he went over the circumstances of the affair in the Upperville Gap, which was the basis of the serious trouble in the case, and commissioner casually remarked that if he could secure the testimony of the men who re- lieved him on that occasion it would answer the Berd papas a ah ‘they were rebel soldiers,” said young Buc! “That doesn't matter,” replied the commis- joner. Then Buck bethought him of the paper the planter had given him and found i, He wrote to Mr. Richmond—I am quite sure that is the name—and a few days later the answer came in the shape of the necessary affidavit, and this war story ends with the declaration that young Buck got his pension with all arrears, AT HAGERSTOWN. Treached Hagerstown about 9 o’clock and registered atthe hotel. After the necessary preliminaries I seated myself in frontof the hotel and devoted myself to beating off the in- aumerable insects that found a Mount Ararat on the bald spotof my head. All at once a familiar face came around the corner, then another and another, until I exclaimed to my- self in despair: “Great Scott! Am I not yet out of Washing- ton?” ‘A false slarm—these were delegates toa national convention of Rechabites. I met Julian Wright. fresh from his laurels in Tux Stan's advertisement contest, L. H. Patterson and many others, and they were just trying to find a cool spot. I might have enjoyed the contest with the insects if I were entomologist of the ‘icul- tural De; ¢ on a tour in my official ca- pacity; but even that individual, I fancy, if he were off on a thirty-day leave, would not care ingle business with pleasure, and would have done just what I did—sla) and swore. disagreeable night e1 for me about 5 o'clock the next mo I slid outof my bed, performed my ablutions and de- voted an hour to sight-seeing. & MAGNIFICENT VIEW. From a bridge which spans a street at the highest part of the town a fine view of the country to the south and east was obtained. The mountains arose like vast billows in the distance, and threw me into rha; At half-past seven I was off again, this time on the Western Maryland railroad. The scenery refreshing was. 1 Vocal athe ridance of tit and Gen. B. H. Robertson, declares that we neutral- ized the operations of two brizaies of cavalry and two batteries of artillery, whose was badly resence th p been Sa Saatt eoper pentuces ese e' per positions Stuart have beaten Plensen ton and the story of Get would have been reversed, Sreiesissaees feito a ‘airfield village as we by, then as Sancihaall tuem, woes our charging columns met in the lane, telescoping hike two worms ii to swallow each other, their flashing like so many shining oe falling in the viazing sua- ight. TAKING TO THE Woops, About three miles further the train stopped , station named nirresge gue i Spioe and put into execution Pr ori nally formed of “taking to the woods” The sun was high and hot, the road dusty and [ had three bundles to carry. But fortune favored me. A kind-hearted man, whose busi- ness it is to gather up the milk for the cream- ery at Cashtown, invited me to a seat in his wagon, and I thankfully accepted, for the mile Thad already trudged had developed the awk- ward embarrassment of those three bundles. My companion was intelligent as weil as kind, and when I reached the end of his route I felt rested and profited. The short distance fur- ther that I took afoot bronght me to my destina- tion, It is a hosteirie of the ancient days of this republio—a large brick building, prob- ably one hundred and twenty years old, walls eighteen inches of solid brick, with the of the doorstep worn inches away by the play of human feet. The brick of the pave- ment in front of the door is scoured away to one-half its original thickness. THE OLD NATIONAL PIKE. The gorge of the mountains opens here and swallows up the stream of travelers that plows westward by the doorway. This is the old National pike, at one time one of the most important avenues betwixt the west and the east. It was along this road that most of Lee’s army advanced in 1863, and as I studied the situation could not understand why our military au- thorities did not see the advantages they pos- sessed in the occupation of these mountains, One thousand faithful men, armed with Sharps’ rifles, deployed at proper intervals along through the dense woods that border the road would have wielded au immense moral force upon the enemy. and rendered them home- sick for the sheltering fastuesses of the sunny south, A limpid stream of water flows along the further side of the road, and finds its way into the famous Marsh creek. On the east side of the house there is a big red barn, which seems to be at everybody's disposal. Just beside the portico there is alarge watering trough, also for the general convenience, into which the flowing water murmurs, fed from an everlast- ing spring in the gorge above. This trough is right under my bed-room window, and its drowsy plashing is very soothing to the nerv- ous system. And while I think of it,at the risk of being somewhat incoherent in my narrative, I want to tell you that my bed room is haunted! At least Brown Polly tells me so, and the first night I occupied it the goose flesh went and came at intervals ina very delightful fashion. Who is Brown Polly? O, a wood nymph with big dark eyes, who chaperones me through the wildest trails of these wild mountains, Sipvex Morxis. seamed an LIED TO THE LAST, The Ruling Passion Strong in Death. From the New York Tribune. “I sometimes think I will call it “Servants I Have Had, housewife the other day. “I know it would be success if I could make the characters half as interesting as they were in real life. I have had ® good many servants in my time, and each one has had her peculiarities, Perhaps the one who engrossed me most in the study of her charac- ter was Jemima, She gave me no end of trou- ble; but I had a queer liking for her that never turned to resentment even when she died in my house, and that is saying a good deal. “Jemima was a tall, lanky, pale, washed-out, delicate, useless creature, who cried at the least rebuke or mishap, and had a hacking cough and a hectic flush on one high cheek bone. She answered an advertisement I had put in a paper for @ strong. capable woman to do gen- eral housework, and she assured me that she had filled such places all her life. She offered me a number of references, andas I wanted help that minute I took her into the kitchen right away, and reserved the references for some future occasion. “Well, that girl had not worked for me one day before I discovered that she knew next to nothing of general housework, and as for stre Imyself was an Amazon to her. I accused her of deceiving me and she began to ery. Then she began to tell me her story. She had not gone far before I perceived she was lying. In fact, Jemima turned out to be the champion liar of all my acquaintances, I never saw a person who seemed so utterly in- capable of telling the truth. I never learned her past history, I believe, because she never told the same story twice. Some ya she wa this, some days that. I may have heard her true history one day without knowing it, but I am not able to place it now. The reason I lay 80 much stress on her past history is because she was never done talking of it, and it gave me a lot of trouble after she died. “Well, I kept that useless girl for more than a year, threatening every day to discharge her and as often relenting. She was fond of me and was alway civil, a rare virtue in Amer- ican servants. My husband used to say that the only reason I kept her was because I could give her a piece of my mind whenever I liked without fear of her ‘talking back.’ How- ever, one morning the poor creature collapsed. Slow consumption had had her for years and now the end came ail at once. “As I sat by her deathbed she began. to tell me # story of how she once made a success on the stage asa melodramatic star, before ill health deprived ber of her good looks, I knew she never could have had any and that she was telling another lie; so, after I had listened to her fora time in pity, I felt it my duty to re- prove her. “Now, Jemima,’ I said, ‘you have only a short time to live. You had better let your past history rest and prepare a little for the mysterious future.’ ‘“«Pve always been a good girl,’ she replied calmy. ‘«*Yes, Jemima,’ I said, ‘but you're an awful story-teller.’ ‘{ ‘Yes,’ she answered, weakly, ‘I suppose I ‘ : ~ am, but I never could help it. Do you think they will go against me in the other world?’ “I'm afraid so, Jemima,’ I said; ‘the good book says they will.” “« ‘Well,’ she replied, after a long pause, evi- dently thinking it over in her mind, ‘there's no use crying over it now. But I tell you what Iwill do. I will tell you the real truth just be- foreI die. My real name is Ariadne Smith. My father was @ farmer in. England. I ran away from home when young in disgrace and never returned. My father died some years and left me two hundred pounds. I never claimed it because I did not want to be dis- covered, but if you would promise toclaim it for me and invest it for my little daughter in the 's home at L—I could die easy.’ “She closed her eyes and expired, and my husband and I told each other that Jeminia bad got off one of the biggest lies of her life. Still, when I came to examine her trunk I found let- ters that led me to think thatafter all the girl had repented and told the truth for once, on her death bed. So I wrote toa lawyer in the PRIVATE LEAROYD'S STORY. BY RUDYARD KIPLING. “And he told s taie."—Chronicles of Gautama Buddha Far from the haunts of company officers who insist upon kit inspections, far from keen- nosed sergeants who sniff the pipe stuffed into the bedding roll, two miles from the tumult of the barracks, lies the Trap. It isan old dry well, shadowed bya twisted pipal tree and fenced with high grass. Here, in the years gone by, did Private Ortheris establish his depot and menagerie for sach possessions liv- ing and dead as could not be safely introduced to the barrack room, Here were gathered Houdin pallets and fox terriers of undoubted pedigree and more than doubtful ownership, for Ortheris was an inveterate poacher and pre-eminent among a regiment of neat-handed dog stealers, Never again will the long, lazy evenings re- turn wherein Ortheris, whistling softly, moved surgeonwise among the captives of his craft at the bottom of the well; when Learoyd sat in the niche, giving sage counsel ou the manage- ment of “tykes,” and Mulvaney, from the crook of the overhanging pipal, waved bis enormous boots in benediction above our heads, delight- ing us with tales of love and war and strange experiences of cities and men. rtheris—ianded at last in the “little stuff bird shop” for which your soul longed; Lea- royd—back again in the smoky, stone-ribbed North, amid the clang of the Bradford looms; Mulvaney—grizzled, tender and very wise Ulysses, sweltering on the earthwork of a Cen- tral India line—j eif Tha forgotten old Gays in the Tra! = sa T've seen a vast 0’ dogs, but Rip was t’ pretti- est picter of a cliver fox tarrier ‘at iver I set eyes on. He could do owt you like but an’ t’ colonel’s laady set more store by him than if he had been a Christian. She had bairns of her awn, but they was i? Fngland, and Rip seemed to getall t coodlin’ and pettin’ as be- loned to a bairn by good right. Ortb’ris, as allus thinks he kuaws more than other foaks, said she wasn’t a real laady, but nobbut a Hewrasian. I don't gainsay as her culler was a bit doosky like. But she was a laady. Why, she rode in a carriage, an’ good *osses, too, er ‘air was that oiled as you could see your faice in it, an’ she wore diamond rings an’ a goold chain, an’ silk an’ satin dresses as mun « cost a deal, for it isn’t a cheap shop as keeps enough o’ one pattern to fit a figure like hers. Her name was Mrs. DeSussa, an’ t’ wasy I coom to be acquainted wi’ her was along of our colonel’s lady's dog Rip. But Rip were a bit on a rover, an’ hed a habit 0” breakin’ out o’ barricks like, and trottin’ round t’ plaice it he were t’ cantonment magis- trate coom round inspectin’. The colonel leathers him once or twice, but Rip didn’t care, an’ kept on gooin’ his rounds, wi’ his taail a- waggin’ as if he were flag signalin’ to t’ world ‘at he was ‘gettin’ on nicely, thank ye, and how's yo'sen?” An’ then t’ colonel, as was noa sort of a hand w’ a dog, tees him oop. A real clipper of a dog, an’ it’s noa wonder you laady, Mra, DeSussa, should tek a fancy tiv him. Theer's one o’ t’ Ten Commandments says you maun't covvet your neebor's ox nor his jackass, but it doesn’t say nowt about his tarrier dogs, an’ happen thot’s t’ reason why Mrs. DeSussa cuvveted Rip, tho’ she went to church reg’lar along wi’ her husband, who was so much darker ‘at if he hedn’t such a good cooat tiv his back yo’ might ha’ called him a black man d nut tell a lee nawther. They said he addied his brass i’ jute, an’ he'd arare lot on it. Well, you seen, when they teed Rip ¢ up, poor awd lad didn’t enjoy very good 'elth, so ¥ colonel’s laady sends for me as’ad a naame for bein’ knowledgeable about dog, an’ axes what's ailin’ wi’ him. “Why,” says I, “he’s gettin ¢' mopes, an’ what he wants is his libbaty an’ company like t’ rest on us; wal happen a rat or two ‘ud liven him oop. It’s low, mum,” says I, “is rats, but it’s t’ nature of a dog; an’ soa’s cuttin’ round an’ meetin’ another dog or two an’ passin’ t’ time o’ day, an’ hevvin’a bit of # turn-up wi’ him like a Christian, Soshe says her dog maun’t niver fight an’ ristian iver fought. hen what's a soldier for?” says I; an’ I ex- plains to her t’ contrairy qualities of a dog, at, when yo’ coom to think ont, is one o’ # curus- est things as is. For they larn to behave theirsens like gentlemen porn. fit for t’ fost 0” oor tell me t’ Widdy herself is fond of a good dog an’ knaws one when she sees it as well as onny body; then, on t’other hand, a-tewin’ round after cats an’ gettin’ mixed oop i’ all manners o' black, y street rows, an’ killin’ rats, an’ fightin’ like devils, T’ colonel’s laady says: “Well, Learoyd, I doant agree wi’ you, b qou're right ina way 0’ speakin’ an’ I'should like yo’ to take Rip out a-walkin’ wi’ you sometimes; but yo’ maun't let him fight, nor chase cats, nor do nowt ‘orrid;” an’ them was her very wods, Soa Rip an’ me gooes out a-walkin’ o’ evenin’s, he bein’ a dog as did credit tiv’ an, an’ I catches a lot o’ rate an’ we hed @ bit of a match on in an awd dry swimmin’ bath at back o’ t’ cantonments, an’ it was none so long afore he was as bright as a button again. He em big harrow — e a o sede at yaller pari: jogs as was 8 offan a bow, an’ though his weight were nowt, he tuk em so suddint-like they rolled over like skittles in a halley, an’ when they coot he stretched after 'em as if he were rabbit-runni Saame with cats when he cud me was trespassin’ mpound wall after one of them mun- goosses at he'd started, sn’ we was busy grub- bin’ round a pickle-bush, an’ when we fas up there was Mrs, DeSussa wi’ lL ovver her shoulder, a-watchin’ us, “Oh, my!” she sings out; ‘there's that lovelee dog! Would he let me stroke him, Mister Soldier?’ “aye would, mum,” sez I, “for he’s fond o’ laady’s coompany. ‘Come ‘here, Rip, an speeak to this kind landy.” An’ Rup, seein’ "at t' mongoose hed getten clean awaay, cooms u like t’ gentleman he was, nivvea a’ haupor: shy nor okkord. An’ at lung length it cooms out ‘at she'd been thrawin’ sheep's eyes, as t’ sayin’ Rip for many a day. Yo’ see, her childer w: grown up, an’ she’d nowt mich to do an’ allus fond of a dog. Soa she axes me if I'd tek somethin’ to dbrink. An’ we goes into ?’ drawn-room, wheer her husband was a-settin’, They meke a gurt fuss ovver t’ dog, an’ I has a bottle o’ aule, an’ he gave me @ handful o’ cigars, en I coomed away, but t’ awd lass sings out: “Oh, Mister Soldier, Please coom again an’ bring that prettee dog. I didn’t let on t’ colonel’s laady about Mra, DeSuaea, an’ Rip, he says nows nawther; an’ J ooes again an’ ivry time there was a good Shrink au’ handful o’ good smooaks. An’ I telled the awd lass@heeap more about Rip than I'd ever heeard; how he tuk t’ fost prize at Lunnun dog show and cost thotty-three pounds, fower shillin’ from t’ man as bred him; ‘at his own brother was the propputty o’ t Prince o’ Wailes an’ he @ pedigree as long as a dook’s. An’ she lapped it all oop an’ were niver tired o’ admirin’ him. But when *t awd lass took to givin’ me money an’ I seed "at she were gettin’ fair fond about t’ dog I began to suspicion summat. Onny body may give a soldier t’ price of @ piut in a friendly way an’ theer’s no harm done, but when it cooms to five rupeers slipt into your hand, sly-like, why it’s what t” joneerin’ fellows calls bribery an’ corruption. ey when Mrs. DeSussa threwed hints how t’ coli Soa I tells Mulvaney an’ Ortheris allt’ taale wid ye this evenin’ an’ av truth an’ honest in’ bie ail aat self, while Orth’ris here prowlin’ round wid YY ” “Twas a dhirty thrick to ba f should you, Learoy: on the butt av lulvaney was thrades in jute! “Let me ted getie E get no derin’ Yorkshireman like you——’ “Nay,” says I, “it's none o ¢ blunderin’ she Bip. He's ? an’ CLR he fost. But ye've eee reroo mae Janted to tek Sip sey’ ‘wi her’ to Mus- tune an’ axes solemn-like if she'd ‘Siders soot Abdamaing ilanda. Mra ioe a 20 turos round Gl tack’ na" smooths ber down, nile cn dove £ ongaly ax’ “owes 8 oaty be "tgo wheer be was so well be- pis ‘an’ fillin’ as if her didn’t heve —— “But ye shall have him, marm, for I've heart, not ~ like this cold-blooded Yorkshireman, but "twill cost ye not penny less than three bhundher believe him, mum.” says I; “¢ ‘wouldn’t tek 500 for bim.” not buy: im I mane, but for the sak: kind, laady, Fil do what 1 never dreamt to ae life. I'll staaie him!” “ say steal,” save Mra DeSussa; “he shall have the jest home. Dogs often lost, you know, an’ then they stray, an’ he likes me an’ I like himas I niver liked a dog yet, an'I must hey him. If I got him at't last minute I conld carry him off to Munsooree Pabar, an’ nobody would niver knaw.” Now an’ again Mulvaney looked ecrost of me, an’ though I could mak nowt o' what he was after, | concluded to tak his leead “Well um.” Isays, “I never thowt to coom 4 business, I'm thinkin’, an’ 300 rupees ise POCE tet of again t” chance 0° them jands as Mulvaney talks on ” let me hev t dog! So we let ber persuade us, an’ she teke Rip's measure theer an’ then, an’ sent to Ham- ilton’s to order a silver collar again t time he was to be her awn, which was tobe t she set off for Munsooree Pabar. ‘Sitha, Mulvaney,” says I, when he was out i —_ niver goin’ to let her bev Rip!” “An’ would ye disappoint « poor old woman?” says “she shail have a Rip.” “An’ wheer's he to come through?” says L “Learoyc, my man,” he sings out, “you're ® pretty man av your inches an’ a good com- rade, but your head is made av duff. Ien't our friend Orth’ris @ taxidermist, an’ a rale artist wid bis nimble white fingers? Au’ wha't @ taxidermist but a man who can thrate shkins? Do ye mind the white dog thet belongs to the canteen sargint, bad cess to him—hbe that's lost haif his time au’ snarlin’ at the rest? He shall be lost for now; an’ do ye mind that he's the very spit im shape an’ size av the colonel’s barrin” that his tail is an inch too long, an’ he has none ay the color that divarsifies the aale Rip, an’ bis tim- per is thal his master an’ worse. But fwhat wan inch on a dog's tail? An’ {what toe pro- fessional like Orth’ris is « few ringstraked te _ brown an’ white? Nothin’ at ak at ‘Then we mects Orth’ris, an’ that little man bein’ sharp asa needle, seed his way t ory business ina minute. An’ he went to work a practisin’ ‘air-dyes the very next day, begin- ning On some white rabbits he bad, an’ then he drored ali Rip’s markin’s on t back of « white commissariat bullock so as to get bis ‘and in an’ be sure of bis colors; shadin’ off brown It mich ito black as natural as life, hed a fault it was too markin’, but it was strangely an’ Orth’ris settled himself to make a te job on it when he got baud ot canteen sargint’s dog. Theer niver was sic! dog as thot for bad temper, an’ it did nat ge no better when his tail hed to inch an’ half shorter. But they may talk o’ theer royal academies as they like. I iver seed a bit o' animal paintin’ to beat t copy aa Orth’ris made of Rip's marks, wal t’ picter it- self was snarlin’ all time an’ tryin’ to get at Rip, standin’ theer to be copied as good as goold. Orth’ris allus hed as mich conceit on himsen as would lift a balloon, an’ he wor so pel wi’ hissham Rip he wor for tekking him to Mrs. DeSussa before éhe went vut Mul~ vYaney an’ me stopped thot, k ° Orth'ris® ork, though univer so cliver, was nobbut skin An’ at last Mrs. DeSussa fixed t day for startin’ to Munsooree Pahar, We was to tek Rip,to #’ stayshun i’ a basket an’ hand bim ovver just when they was ready to start and then she'd give us t’ brass—as was a. gry my wod! It were high time she were off, for the ‘air-dyes upon t’cur’s back took « vast of paintin’ to keep t’ reet culler, tho’ Orth’ris spent a matter o' 7 rupees 6 annas i’ t best droggist shops i’ Calcutta. An’ t’ canteen sargint was lookin’ for ‘is dog everywheer; an’, wi’ bein’ tied up, # beast's timper got waur nor ever. it wor i’ t’ evenin’ when t’ train started thro.’ Howrah, an’ we ‘elped Mrs. DeSusse wi’ about 60 boxes, an’ then he gave her t’ bas- ket. Orth’ris, for pride av hi to let him coom along wi’ us, = liftin’ f lid an’ show: coiled oop. “Ob!” says t” weet he iooks!” An’ just then ¢ beauty snarled au’ showed his teeth. so Mul shuts down t’ lid and says; “Ye'll be caretel, marm, when ye tek him out. He's disaccus- tomed to traveling by t’ railway, an’ he'll be sure to want bis rale mistress an’ his friend Learoyd, so yeu make allowance for his feei- ings at fost.” She would do all thot an’ more for the dear, good Rip, an’ she would nut oppen t° basket till they were miles away, for fear anybody should recognize him, and we were real good and kind soldier men, she honds me a bundle o’ notes. upafew of her relatives an’ friends to goodby—not more than 75 there wasn't—an’ we cuis away. : Thot's what What coom to 850 rupees? can scarcelins tell you, but we melted it It was share an’ share alike, for Mulvaney wnids “It — got hold of Mrs. DeSussa first, sure "twas I that remimbered the sargint's dog just in the nick av time, an’ Orth’ris was the artist av janius that made a work av art out av ‘that ugly piece av ill-nature. Yet, by the way av @ thank-o-ferin’ that I was not led into felony by that wicked ould woman, I'll senda thrifle to Father Victor for the people he's alway beggin’ for.” But me an’ Orth'ris, he bein’ Cockney an’ I bein’ pretty far north, did nut see it i’ t’ saame way. We’ getten t’ brass an’ we meaned to keep it, An’ soa we did—for a short time. Noa—noa, we niver heeard a wod more o’ awd lass, Our rig’mint went to Pindi, an’ t canteen sargint he got bimself another tyke insteead a’ t’ one ‘at got lost so reg’lar an’ wag Jost for good at last, ee A TRAGEDY IN THE SWAMP. Making a Quick Choice Between Two Horrible Modes of Death. From the De colt Free Press. It was down on the Great Jacksonroute. A freight train had met with an accident, and so our train going south was off time and had to run inonasiding and waitfor the lightning express coming up from New Orleans, Many of us were strolling about, picking blackberries or gathering flowers, when some one suddenly shouted: “Everybody k jaiet and listen! Hark!” It was the > hour bay of a hound, and after a halfaminute we realized that it was coming nearer. “The dogs are running a deer!” shouted one, “and if we string out we may get s shot!” Fifteen or twenty men, each with « revolver, strung out along the track, and just then we heard the iron rails begin to signal that the exe was coming. Two minutes later we whistle. There were three or four i er : A cared to risk the crossing. when @ coal-black negro, rags, leaped out of the bush on the stood facing us. The dogs had him, and were baying in the thickets away. What his crime was we could was a big fellow, and as he stood folded across his heaving breast, his face terrible look, He was only a pistol shot but no one raised « weapon. On the ‘one of the crowd shouted to him: “Off the track or you'll be killed!” He turned and sa® the express down the level stretch and then £ i Hi itis i | f i HI i eff i 8 fies ft i ; i ro g : | if f : i f i ar er iF £ f (it ittet ae Fy it : f thi i t l ti ii | F i Pred