Evening Star Newspaper, September 6, 1890, Page 9

Ft MILES UNDER WATER. A Half Hour’s Stroll on the Floor of the Ocean. WEIRD SIGHTS AND SCENES. —— in @ Region of Watcry Darkness Eter- = he Fierce Predatory Fishes Beam and Torchlight Processions Go HAT IS IT LIKE at the bottom of the sea—in the unfathomed depths, that is to five miles below the surface of the ocean? If you mean to ask jonly possible to reply that there is none. The darkness of that watery abyss is as the blackest of ink, no ray of sun- light even when the day is at its brightest Piercing the aqueous gloom from above. Even were there a light you could hardly wake an observation, inasmuch a8 the pressure sf the superincumbent weight of water is at least three tons to the square inch and would srush your body like an egg shell into a shape- Jess masa, But suppose, just for fun, that you were able to descend five miles to the ocean bottom at its greatest depth and survey your surroundings with the aid of some brilliant artificial light. To begin with, you gaze with curiosity upon the ground beneath your feet. You find that it is composed of a grayish mixture of minute shells and mud. The shells are those of little animals called rhizopods. which live near the surface, and, dying, sink to the bottom. thus paving with their small tenements of lime the ccean floor. Everywhere this floor is found composed of the same shelly material, stretch- ing for mile after mile in every direction whichever way you walk. The surface pre- sents the same sort of irregularities that mark dry land. Here will be hills, there valleys. and perhaps you will come across a great level plain, like a western prairie. But the likeness to terrestrial landseape ends with the geo- graphical contour. AN INTERMINABLE DESERT. What most impresses you about this strange scene is its frightful desolation. It is a desert of interminable extent, where nothing grows, Not a blade or sprout of any sort of vegeta- tion is to be discovered. for the simple reason that there is no sunlight to support vegetable life. Over the endless expanse of plain, bill and valley your eye wanders fruitlessiy in search of tree, shrub or even seaweed. There is nothing save the grayish shelly ooze. Most dreadful of all is the silence of the depths, absolute and unbroken by sound of any sort. There is not even the sound of the sea. With five miles of ink-black ocean above Jou there is not even the murmur of a wavelet to cheer your awful solitude. And yet you are not alone. The great fishes that haunt the lowest abysses of ocean, fero- eious and predatory beyond all other fishes be- cause they are obliged to depend yholiy upon each other for food in the aoeencl of vegeta- tion, come fearlessly to gaze at you with the enormous goggling eyes characteristic of the fishes of the depths. They have never seen tan and are not afraid of you. You are rather in luck if some of them do not attempt to eat you tp. For instance, here comes a fish re- cently made known to science as the “black swallower.” In the initial picture to this article you will see a specimen represented. It is fre- quently accustomed to devour fishes ten and even twelve times as big as itself, literally climbing over its victim. first with one jaw and then with the other. Very often this extraordi- nary glutton of the deep dies of indigestion in consequence of such # meal. Now and then there looms up before your affrighted vision the form of some vast monster with which hu- man knowledge has no acquaintance because its habitat is in the inky floods far down out of observation’s reach and it was too big to be caught and drawn to the surface by the dredges of H.M.S. Chailenger. For all any one can tell the ichthyosaurus and other gigantic creatures sntediluvian may haunt these fathomless realms ocean. BLACK AND UNCANNY. One unpleasant thing about the fish is that they are all black. Every one of them is of the same inky hue, with fierce jaws and enor- mous eyes that stare at you greedily. Some sre eel-like—for instance, a kind of shark that you would imagine was a big eel, which exists enly in these depths. There are plenty of sctual eels, too. In fact, the water ie agvarm With life so constituted as to be able to with- stand the extraordinary conditions. In order that they shall be able to live comfortably un- der a pressure of three tons per square iuch these lish are made with skeletons <o soft aad deficient im lime that you ean thrust a needle easily through the bones and the tissue of which their flesh is composed is loose and pulpy. Under the pressure to which they are ordinarily sub- jected they are as firm and compact of body 4s any surface fishes. But when taken out of the water with a deep sea dredge or otherwise, being suddeuly relieved of the pressure, they are very apt to literally burst and fly ‘all to pieces before they can be examined. The fish- ermen of Madeira catch a fish called the “cherne” that swims 1.200 feet below the sur- face of the sea. When one is caught and ulled into the boat itseyes stick out of its ead like a lobster’s and it is almost dead, if Bot quite. METHODS OF ILLUMINATION. One of the most interesting things you take Rotice of in walking about the ocean's floor is the method of artificial lighting employed by very many of the fishes. You see whole torch- light processions go by, each fish actually car- frying @ torch of its own, which serves the double purpose of lighting its path and at- tracting its prey. The new invention of lumin- ous bait was an idea applied by the so-called auyler fishes of the deep sea ages ago. TWO DEEP-SEA FISHES, Here is a picture of an angler fish which has Sregular torch foraback fin. The bulb at the end has a phosphorescent Iummosity and the extremities of the little waving branches are likewise luminous. So the fish ought to be able to see its way very well, while it looks out for the victims its light is expected to at- tract. Other fishes have bright phosphorescent disks on top of their heads for the same pur- and even rows of luminous spots along their sides. The fish shown in the illustration beneath the angler fish has this remarkable feature, that ite jaws are several times as long es tts head, the cranium being situated in the front part of the upper jaw. It swims by Srigeling its long eel-iike tai! and its stomach oe —y picture is distended by a fish as big as twelf, The only color that reliews the gray monot- ony of the ocean bottomrat this great depth is supplied by shrimp-like crustacea of some nize, some bright scarlet and others orange yel- low. There are quantities of spiny sea urchins of innumerable varieties and here and the oups of sea lilies. jat these es, though for; Took line grayish Sowers’ cn *y ms, are of an animal and not of a vegetable nature. Of wollusks of various kinds there is « profusion. TREASURES OF THE SEA. You will not find much worth picking up for ‘Ws intrinsic value on the ocean floor. No treas- ures such as the seas are supposed to hide are likely to excite your avarice, though by some chance you might come across a treasure chest full id toper from bome ancient wreck. @ hull itself of the lost Weasel you would not rer half buried inthe tay THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C. 2 of the water would be greater than that of the ship's material, and it would very probably re- main, like Mahomet’s coffin, suspended some- where between the surface and the bottom. You bave seen enough. Turning out your light you find yourself standing in the midst of a watery darkness that embraces you with a mighty and crushing goo It is cold, too— bitterly cold. At such depths surface condi- tions not affect the temperature of the water. At midsummer in the tropics it does not rise above 40 degrees Fahrenheit. The stillness is absolute and appalling. Silent torch ight processions pass endlessly along through the ocean desert. It is one vast night- mare. You are glad to wake up and find your- self in your snug bed. Warning was given you not to sit up and read yourself to sleep with the horrors of the nethermost deep. oo REAL ESTATE GOSSIP. The Large Number of New Houses Erected to Supply the Demand, WHAT THE OFFICIAL RECORDS SHOW OF THE BUILD- ING OPERATIONS THIS YEAR AS COMPARED WITH LAST—THE ANNUAL HUNT FOR HOUSES FAIRLY INAUGURATED—OTHER MATTERS OF INTEREST. Building activity in this city contintes about the same through all the year except at inter- vals during the winter season when the weather issuch that all outdoor work is brought toa standstill. The ordinary four seasons into which the year is divided are but little re- garded, and broadly speaking there are but two seasons known to the building trades here, namely, the season when outdoor work is pos- sible and the season when it is impossible. Sometimes building operations can be carried on during the greater part of the year, but in such a case the winter must be known as an open winter. Last year the weather did not put astop to outdoor work for any length of time, and during the season, which was, there- fore, an unusually long one, a large number of new buildings were erected. This year build- ing has been very active, and it is probable that the record will show a large increase as compared with last year. The records of the building inspector's office show the following number of permits for new buildings taken out for each month of the present calendar year and the corresponding months of the previous year: Ss ecageiaetan es ae 1,690 1,788 It is estimated that at least 75 per cent’ of the permits taken out for new baildings aro for houses. Oni this basis it will be seen that nearly 1,400 new dwelling houses have been erected or are in progress of erection in the District since the beginning of the present year. The remaining months of the year will contribute their quota to the permit fund of the building inspector, end by the closo of the Year it is safe to say the addition to the house capacity of the city will be relatively larger than it was at the same period the year be- fore. This comparison of the building operations for a portion of two years shows no unusual results, as there bas been a steady increase in the number of new buildings erected here an- nually for a period of yeara past. Since 1880 4 yearly average of 1,500 dwelling houses have been built in the District. For the past five years the yearly average has reached 2,000 dwelling houses, while s great number of apartment houses, hotels, stores and other buildings have been erected. Since 1880 over 15.000 dwelling houses have been built in the District, LOOKING FOR A HOUSE. The annual hunt for houses has begun. As soon as the weather grows a little cool and the Ast of September arrives then people begin to think about iooking around for winter quarters. There is always a certain percentage of house- holders who make annual changes in their laces of residence. Sometimes they have the Lage of bettering themselves and then again they like the change. So when the hot weather com pack up their household goods and store them. The children go out of the city with the mother and the father camps around during the summer. Then when thi fall season begins and it is time for the schor to open the family returns to the city and tl hunt fora house begins.) Then again there are people, and each Fig this class is increas- ing. who have decided to make their homes in this city for the future. They must have a house, and soon account of these and other changes incident to life in this city there is quite an array of house hunters each fall The real estate agente are kept busy answering questious and showing houses and there is quite a good deal of activity and bustle to break the calm which has prevailed in the real estate offices during the hot weather months. The supply of houses seems to be equal to the demand, although it is difficult sometimes for a particular individual to find » particular house in a particular locality. Th supply of houses that are worth €50 a month that can be rented for €25 per month is not any greater this year than it has been in years past. This is a discouraging circumstance to those who are looking for that class of houses, and the situation is rendered still more hopeless by the fact that such houses are not being built. The house hunter makes the further discov- ery that rents are about the same as they were last year. The rent market does not seem to be affected by the large number of new houses that are being built each year, and the conclu. sion is reached that either the population is keeping pace with the growing house capacity of the city or else there are a great many va- cant houses in the city. The latter conclusion is, however, hardly consistent with good busi- ness principles, as the great majority of prop- erty holders would, it is presumed, prefer to reduce the rent inorder to procure tenants than have the property stand idle. As rents remain firm, it is argued that the supply of houses is about equal to thedemsnd. This seems to be the —- of the men who make & business of building houses, if the large num- ber of new houses that are going up in all parts of the city may be taken as an indication of their opinion of the condition of the market. REMODELING AN OLD HOFEL BUILDING. ‘The hotel building at the southeast corner of ‘7th and I streets, formerly known as the Clin- ton House, is to be remodeled and refitted for hotel purposes. The owner of the property, Mrs. Ellen ©. Wright, has bad plans eed for this improvement by Messrs, Pituey & Bradford, architects. It is proposed to add one story to the height of the present building, making it five stories, aud to modernize the ront, BUSINESS PROPERTY ON COXNECTICUT AVEXUR. The vacant ground at the southwest corner of Connecticut avenue and M street, which has been held for some time by a syndicate, bas re- cently been purchased by Mr. Jas. M. John- ston. The price paid for this property was $55,000, which is at the rate of $6.40 per square foot. The ground, which is irregular in shape, has a frontage of 1093¢ feet on Connecticut avenue and 42 feet on M street, It occupies what is believed will be the farthest northern limit, for some years at least, of the movement which has been in progress to change the resi- dence property on Connecticut avenue from K to M streets into business property. The west side between the points named is now practi- cally all devoted to business purposes and has become a business center of confiderable im- Portance. ‘MR. ASH'S RESIDENCE. Mr. James R Ash is having # residence erected for his own use on 13th street between Sand T streets. The front, which is one of the effective designs drawn by Messre. Pitney & Bradford, architects, will be built of press brick with brown stone trimmings, A rounded bay window extends to the roof line, where it is finished with @ tower. One of the features laid in design. The parlor, dining room and kitehen will occupy the firet fone. A Playful Ze. He sighed for a claim that should be his ows And longed for a whiff of the pure osone; So into his wagon he packed a load And started out on the ‘4 quarter section of MUSTACHED MEMBERS. Representatives and Senators and Their Hirsute Ornaments, —_——_o—__ THE BEARD IN CONGRESS. Some Mustaches That Are Really Stun- ning—Mon WhoShave Their Upper Lip Only, and Others Whose Masterful Faces Are Shaved Smooth —_—_—__ T is most interesting to look down from the press gallery of the House of Repre- ntatives upon that great national assembly in session and observe the vary- ing peculiarities of whisker, beard and mustache affected by the members. Take Tom Reed, the Speaker, for instance. You will notice that his mustache is decidedly the poorest affair of its kind in the House. It js rather undergrown, stubbly and turned down at the corners of the mouth; in fact, its owner would be @ better looking man without it. All the same, to most men the mustache is undoubtedly s great adornment. The average handsome man of your acquaintance loses all his good looks when he shaves his upper lip. There was a woman once who cried bitterly and refused to be comforted when her husband came home one day without his flowing mustache, She said that she would have nothing to do with him, not being able to recognize him at all as’ the man she bad married. Abner Taylor of Illinois has one of the hand- somest mustaches in the House. Clements of Georgia is the possessor of an equally fine ono. Likewise wiry, black-eyed Peters of Kansas. whose mustache is long and of the bue of the raven’s wing. ‘Their mustaches alone would make Price, the Louisiana millionaire, McComas of Maryland and McAdoo of New Jersey handsome mev. All these, be it under- stood, wear no other hair on their faces beside the mustache. Indeed that seems to be by far the most popular style of hirsute decoration in ders over the the House. As your oye wa assemblage of legislators sitting row upon row at thoir desks as if 60 many schoolboys, with er and each’ pupil ‘ou notice that a ma- jority of the mombers have mustaches and are clean shaved otherwise. With the younger ones this is the almost universal fashiou,thongh Henry Cabot Lodge of Boston. dilettante soci- y man and framer of the famous Force bill, is anotable exception, with his short light- brown beard usually trained to a point. THE HEAVY DROOPING KIND, Thero is a certain style of mustache, much affected by sporting men, which is very full and heavy and droops over the corners of the mouth in a mournful sort of way. You ob- serve a good many of this sort as you look about the House. eorge Smith of Illinois has an ideal one. Boutelle of Maine is the owner of a fine specimen and likewise Dudley Cole- man of Louisiana, David B. Henderson of Iowa trains his mustache somewhat in’ this way, as do also Belknap of Michigan, who has an unusually large one; Wade of Missouri—his is white—and Hansbrongh from North Dakota, Hemphill of South Carolina, Jim Reilly, of whom they speak so highly in Pottsville, Pa. where he comes from, and Wilson of West Vir- ginia. Reilly's mustache has a more accent- uated droop than any other mustache in the House. All th me, the mustache of Benton MeMillan of Tonnessce has a peculiarly fero- cious droop of its own that belies the mildness of its proprietor’s disposition. On the wholo, however, Harry Bingham from Philadelphia has the fiercest mustache in Congress, though it is not very big. It is always pulled straight out horizontally and has an oxpression of ite own. Judging from appearances, Benjamin Frank- lin Shively of Indiana must expend more wax upon his mustache than any of iis fellow Rep- resentatives. The ornament is petered out, so to speak, into} ends four or five inches long, which are trained upward. Ono of the prettiest mustaches in the House is a blonde one that the property of Walter I. Hayes of Iowa. Mudd of Maryland is another of the many who turn their mustaches up instead of down. Follow- ing the same fashion are scen John F. Andrew, who hails from Boston, and his colleague, Greenhaige from Lowe! hainer of New Jersey; Turner, the good-looking iceman from New York city; Magner, tho Zounsest meinber of the House, who years his air pompadour fashion and -is newly wed; Amos Cummings, the journalist; Kilgore of Texas; Fred Lansing of Watertown, who has the handsomest mustache. in the New York delegation, blonde and beautifully trained, and McClammy of North Carolina, celebrated for his carclessness as to dress, whose upper-lip decoration is long pointed and satanic, in ac- cordance with his appearance, But the devil is a handsome mun, you know, for once he was anangel, Add to these dozens more, all of whom wear only mustaches and no other beard. MINUS BEARDS. Judging from your own observation as you let your eye wander over tho House there is something to be said against as well as for the mustache. It is undeniably decorative, mainly because most men have bad mouths and it serves to hide them more or less, but it also hides the expression of the face and goes far to make all men look alike. Look at any man who wears no mustache and sec how mucii more ex- pressive his face is; very naturally, too, inas- much as the mouth is the feature of expression and changes with each emotion. Suppose Maj. McKiuley were to grow amustache, three-quar- ters of tho impressivenoss of his Napoleonic face, with its powerfully drawn mouth, would be gone. Judge Perkius of Kansas has another of those faces, the tremendous power of which would be in great measure lost beneath a beard ef anyscort, Here and there about the floor you notice ® sprinkling of clean faces amidst the parterre of beards and mustaches. There is young ‘Clunie of California and Charley O'Neill, who hails from the Quaker city. Also another Pennsylvania man, Buckalew, a new man from Illinois named Wiiliams, a second Williams from Ohio, Milliken of Maine, Gen, Forney of Alabama, Goodnight of Kentucky, Henderson of North Carolina, Arnold, one of Rhode Island’s two Representatives, Judge Cooper of Ohio, the giant Stewart of Texas, and one-legged Atkinson of Pennsylvania, These are about all the clean-shaven men in the House, and their faces are mostly such as attract the eye, There are a few Representatives who wear a | sree with their mustaches. Abner Taylor of illinois has one—it was a mistake to put him in the mustache-only class, So has Grimes of Georgia and Spooner, the other Rhode Island man, er Q. Mills and Martin of Texas, A SEVERE STYLE. A beard for the chin only, as an ‘accompani- ment to the mustache, isa favorite fashion in the House. The foremost exponent of that style is Gibson of Maryland, the beauty of the lower branch of the national legislature. His pul- chritude would be seriously impaired should he perb mustache and uearly whito tuft beneath his under lip. Dockery of Missouri foll this form, as do also Catchin; ad Morgan of Mississippi, Moore of New shire, Skinner of North Carolina, Outhwai eud Kennedy of Onio, Laidlaw and McCarthy of New York, Lanham of Texas, Buchanan of Virginia, Barwig of Wisconsin and twenty others, There are not very many men who consider that the style of wearing the beard without the mustache is becoming, and yet there are quite number of Representatives who do it. Can- non of Iilinois, chairman of the committee on sppropriations, wears a beard and shaves his upper lij 'y morning. The scraping pro- cess ought not to be a very severe torture with him—at all events he owns but one razor. Mo- Kenna of California and Candler of Georgia. ursue the same fashion. Also Conger of lowa, leard of Missouri, Campbell of New York, Stewart of Vermont and Hare of Texas, MEMBERS WITH WHISKERS. Whiskers are scarce in the House, Asamat- ter of fact the fashion for Wearing them has almost gone out entirely within the last few years, and so but few pairs of them are found among the members. Elijah A. Morse of Massachusetts, the stove-polish man, has the finest whiskers in Congress, though Buchanan of New Jersey runs him close for the honors, The poorest whiskers in the House are the stragely ones of Bowden of Vir; Alonzo Nute of New Hampshire and Walker of Massa- Cog ge a, — tp ers, Sawyer of w Yor! a fine and others similar! decorated are De Lano of New Y. 4 . Flower wearsno mustache. All of these men sha =“ ‘ae el FULL BEARDED, ‘The full beard end mustache area popular style in the House. Bume Representatives pre- for it because it saves them the trouble of shaving, while others consider it Beantifying to themselves, - There has always been dispute regarding beards, you know. While in moet eastern countries ‘the beard is rogarded ase sign of poverty and distress, the Mohammedai think it a necessary expression of dignity and expect tobe jerked into heaven by it when they die. Not so very many y Ago no gen- tleman wore a beard, and Dr. Hammond says that afew centuries hence men will have no beards to grow. Fashion seems to be unstable on the subject. Certainly a majority of the beards in the House are not particularly hand- some appendages. Yet there are a few highly decorative ones. Breckinridge of Kentucky has anoble beard of snowy whiteness. The handsomest beard in the House, however, be- longs to Dunnell of Minnesota, and is very large and blonde with a crinkly Joliy-looking W. H. H. Cowles of New Hamp- shire has another fine and flowing beard of great size. Gen, Grosvenor of Ohio has a beau- tifal patriarchal beard that makes him look like Sante Clans, and Scull of Penn: Sageeos, another Somewhat in the same sty! ‘he bushiest black beard that you see on the floor is that of Tom Bayne of Ponnsylvania, Not by any means to be forgotten is the full iron-gtay beard of the redoubtable Bill Springer, the inveterate kicker from Illinois, whose fighting capacity is such that even Spoaker Reed is unable to put him down. Tosee him during the tumultuous times earlier in the ses- sion, when Reed insisted upon counting a qaorum. shaking his finger at the Speaker to lemand recognition and talking against MeKin- ley while the latter tried to orate—the whole House in an uproar the meanwhile—was a treat indeed. Such are the most notable beards that meet your eye in the House, THE BALD HEAD PREDOMINANT. Looking over the heads of the members be- low you notice that many of them have lost more or less “heir natural covering from the place where the ¥-20l ought to grow. The particularly bald pate of Greenhalge, the man from Lowell, attracts your attention first, per- haps. He is one of the baldest men in the House, but he is run close by Wade of Mis- souri, Walker of Massachusetts, Chipman of Michigan, Silver Dollar Bland of Missouri and Cowles of North Carolina. Other very bald men are Fitch of New York, Bingham of Phil- adelphia, Hitt of Illinois and Buchanan of Vir- ginia, Owen of Indiana, McCreary of Ken- tucky, Bartine of Nevada, Bunn of North Caro- lina, ‘Wilson of Kentucky, Dunphy of New York, Culbertson of Pennsylvania and Thomp- son and Williams of Ohio all brash their hair with a towel. You can see for yourself from the examples they afford that baldness is not beautifying. That is the reason, it is said, that Vice President Morton wears a wig. THE SENATORS, One thing you will notice. there is very little baldness in the Senate, considering what a venerable body it is. Only here and there it smooth and shiny poll to be seen. The baldest Senator is Blodgett of New Jersey. Of the Senators who wear mustaches Gray of Deiaware owns the handsomest specimen— quite full, with a graceful droop at the corners of the mouth. For size, however, Senator Blackburn's of Kentucky ‘is unrivaled; it is dark and bushy. Among other Senators who affect no other beard than the mustache are Matt. Quay and Call of Florida, Frye of Maine, Vance of North Carolina, Aldrich of Bhode Islahd, Dixon from the same little state and Wade Hampton of South Carolina, whose upper-lip adornment is big and white. Senator Cameron's full, light brown mustache is one of the handsomest in the upper house. Senators Plumb of Kansas, Hiscock of New York, Sawycr of Wisconsin, Teller of Colorado, Allison of Iowa and Brown of Georgia all wear beards without mustaches—a style that cer- tainly does give a look of severity to the face. You may see it in many Egyptian pictures and statues, Gov. Brown looks like an ideal Mor- mon elder, with his patriarchal chin beard of snowy whiteness. Among the Senators who like themselves best with chin beard and mus- tache are Hawley of Connecticut, Jones of Ar- kansas, Voorhees of Indiana and Manderson, who hails from Omaha, Ingalls, the President pro tem. of the Senate when Vice President Morton is off duty, wears a mustache and goatee, as every one knows from the carica- tures of him in the comic papers, if not other- wise. So does handsome and fashionable Sen- ator McMillan of Detroit, The new Senator, Carlisle, does not permit ‘80 mitch 89 haar to grow upon his face, Neither does Senator Hoar of Massachusetts, though he used to indulge in a fringe of white whisker, nor Senator Payne, the Ohio oil king, nor Reagan of Texas, nor Gen. Colquitt of Georgia, nor Daniel of Virginia, nor Judge Wileon of Maryland, nor Gorman of Maryland, nor the great and only Evartsof New York. | All these shave their entire countenances as regularly and as often as the sun rises in the east. You can hardly help taking notice, as you glance around the Senate with this subject in hand for consideration, that the average Sena- tor, whether for the sake of dignity or for other reasons, wears more hair on his face than does the average Representativ: There are fewer lone mustaches and more beards to be found in the upper house than in the lower. Very likely the greator average of age is the cause of thi Stanford, Pugh, Teller, Cullom, Wilson, Eu Hale, Sherman, Dawes, Jones of Nevada, Ransom. Dolph, Mitchell, Stewart, and Blair are among the many who do not ave at all and wear full beards and mus- taches, ——____+o-______ MORE THAN HE BARGAINED FOR, How a Man Came to be Chief Surgeon, Physician and Nurse Without Know- ing it. From the New York Tribune. “We had a case of smallpox in our lower camp,” said the colonel, ‘which gave us 8 good deal of trouble. You see, there were only six of us, and we did not want to lose any more men than possible. We determined to send the case to the upper camp, five miles away, but the problem which worried us most was who should go along as nurse. “ ‘Bob,’ the cook, was a hard drinker, and as soon as he heard of the case he proceeded to drown his cares in whisky. He was terribly frightened at first, but the more he drank the more resigned he became to circumstances, “When Kob was drinking he could beat any man in Colorado at boasting and before long he began to declare that smallpox had no ter- rors for him. In fact, he had nursed nineteen atients at one time when Le one else had Seeecied them. He had brought them safe! through, too. Inthe end he gravely asserte that he couldn’t catch the smallpox anyway, for he had already had it, “Five of the boys looked at me significant! and I nodded my head. We bundled the sick man up carefully and put him in ® wagon, ‘Two hours later we had established a hospital at the upper camp, with the cook as chief sur- geon, physician and nurse. The cook, by the way, was sleeping as peacefully as a child when we left the hospital, The next morning we heard wild shouts and saw Bob tearing for the lower camp. half drossed. We immediately es- tablished a shot gun quarantine, “Hold up, Bob,’ one of the boys shouted; ‘thiscamp is quarantined. You can’t come past the whistling post,’ “ “But, say,’ pleaded the frightened cook, ‘that man has the smallpox.’ “Well, you volunteered to nurse him.’ “ I? he screamed, incredulously. “ ‘Remember those nineteen patients you nursed.” “What nineteen patients?” “ ‘And then, you know, you had it yourself.’ “41 never saw a case beiore,’ he howled, “ ‘Can't help it. You've started on it now and must keep it up.’ “We chased him back from the post and left some whisky and provisions for him on the ground. We told him to come down every evening at sundown for a new supply, and we never let him come near the cam He used regularly to come down and beg be allowed to come intp camp, but the shotgun policy was strictly maintained, Then he would ese wretes ‘y ar rovisions and shout out to us \e Wor ve every one of us hanged for deliberate murder. “Did he catch thesmallpox? No, nor did that experience cure him of lying and bragging. He afterward boasted to people that he had nursed us all, only he swelled our number to nine, for five weeks without cl his eves; that he rode thirty miles twice a for med- icine and looked after all the cattle besides,” ——— Queen Margaret’s Philanthropy. From the Chicago Post, Queen Margaret of Italy has a fashion of de- termining to her satisfaction the workings of the various charitable institutions in which she is interested which SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1990-SIXTEEN PAGE WEE WILLIE WINKIE. BY RUDYARD KIPLING. “An officer and a gentleman." IS FULL NAME was Percival William Williams, but he picked up the other juame in @ nursery book and that was the end of the christened title. His mother’s ayah called him Willic- Baba, but, as he never paid the faintest atten- tion to anything the ayab said, her wisdom did not help matters, His father was colonel of the one hundred and ninety-ffth and as soon as Wee Willie Winkie was old enough to understand what military discipline meant Col. Williams put him under it. There was no other way of man- aging the child. When be was good for a week he drew good-conduct pay, and when he was bad he was deprived of his good-conduct stripe. Generally he was bad, for India offers so many chances to little six-year-olds of going wrong. Children resent familiarity from strangers and Wee Willie Winkie was s very particular child, Once he accepted an acquaintance, he was gracionsly pleased to thaw. He accepted Brandis, a subaltern of the hundred and ninety-fifth, on sight. Brandis was haying tea at the colonel’s and Wee Willie Winkie entered, strong in the possession of a good-conduct badge. won for not chasing the hens round the compound. He regarded Brandis with gravity for at least ten minutes and then delivered himself of his opinion. “Ilike you,” said he slowly, getting off his chair and coming over to Brandis, “I like you. T shall call you Coppy because of your hair. Do you mind being called Coppy? It is because of ve hair, you know.” Here was one of the most embarrassing of Wee Willie Winkie’s peculiarities. He would look at ® stranger for some time and then, without warning or explanation, would give him 4 name. And the name stuck. No regi- mental penalties could break Wee Willie Win- kie of this habit, He lost his good-conduct = for christening the commissioner's wife “Pobs:” but nothing that the colonel could do made the station forego the nickname, and Mra, Collen remained Mrs. ““Pobs” till the end of her stay. So Brandis was christened “Coppy,” and ae therefore, in the estimation of the regi- ment If Wee Willic Winkie took an interest in any one, the fortunate man was envied alike by the mess and the rank and file. And in their envy lay no suspicion of self-interest. ‘The col- onel’s son” was idolized on his own merits en- tirely. Yet Wee Willie Winkle was not lovely. His face was permanently freckled, as his legs were permanently scratched, and in spite of his mother's almost tearful remonstrances he had insisted upon having his long yellow locks cut short in the military fasl “I want my hair like Sergeant Tummil's,” said Wee Willie Winkie, and his father abetting, the sacrifice was accomplished. Three weeks after the bestowal of his youth- ful affections on Lieut. Brandis—henceforth to be called “‘Coppy” for the sake of brevity—Woe Willie Winkie was destmed to behold strange things and far beyond his comprehension. Coppy returned his liking with interest. Coppy had let him wear for five rapturous min- utes his own big sword—just as tall as Wee Willie Winkie. Coppy had promised hima terrier puppy and Coppy had permitted him to witness the miraculous operation of shaving. Nay, more—Coppy had said that even he, Wee Willie Winkio, would rise in time to the owner- box of shiny knives, a silver soap box an handled “sputter brush,” as Wee Willie Winkie called it, Decidedly, there was no one except his father, who could give or take away good-conduct badges at pleasure, half so wise, strong and valiant as Coppy with the Af- han and Egyptian medals on his breast. rhy, then, should Coppy be guilty of the un- manly weakness of kissing—vehemently kiss- ing—a “big girl,” Miss Allardyce, to wit? In the course of a morning ride Wee Willie Win- kie had seen Coppy so doing, and, like the gentleman he was, had come, wheeled round and cantered back to his groom, lest the groom should also see. Under ordinary circumstances he would have oken to his father, but he felt instinctively that this wass matter on which Coppy ought first to be consulted, “Coppy,” shouted Wee Willie Winkie, rein- ing up outside that subaltern’s bungalow carly one morning—“I it to see you, Coppy!” “Come in, young ’un,” returned Coppy, who was at early broakfast in the midst of his dogs. “What mischief have you been getting into no’ Wee Willie Winkie had done nothing notori- ously bad for three days, and so stood ona pinnacle of virtue. Ge en doing nothing bad,” said he,curl- ing himself into a long chair with a studious affectation, He buried his freckled nose ina teacup, and, with eyes staring roundly over the rim, d: “I say, Coppy, is it pwoper to kiss ig. “By jovel You're beginning early. Who do you want to kiss?” “Noone. My muvver's always kissing me if Idon’t stop her. If it isn’t pwoper how was you kissing Major Allardyoe's big girl last morning by ve canal?” Coppy’s brow wrinkled. He and Miss Allar- dyce had with great craft managed to keep thoir engagement secret for a fortnight. There were urgent and imperative reasons why Major = should not know how matters stood for at least another month, and this small mar- plot had discovered a great deal too much. “I saw you,” said Wee Willie Winkle calmly. “But ve groom didn't see. I said ‘Hut jao.’” “Oh, you had that much sense, you young rip,” groaned poor Coppy, half amused and half angry. “And how many people may you have told about it?” You didn't tell when I “Only me myself. twied to wide ve buffalo ven my pony was lame; 2. enthusiastically, and I fought you wouldn't lik “Winkie,” said Coppy, shaking the small hand, “you're the best of good fellows, Look here, you can’t under- stand all these things, One of these days— hang it, how can I make you see it!—I’m going to marry Miss Allardyce and then she'll be Mrs. Coppy, as you say. your young miod is so scandalized at the idea of kissing big girls, go and tell your fat “What will happen?” said Wee Willie Winkie, who firmly believed that his father was omipo- tent, ; “T ehall get {nto trouble,” said Coppy, lay: ing his trump card with an appeali at the holder ofthe ace. " rn “Ven I won't,” said Wee Willie Winkie briefly. “But my faver says ite un-man-ly to be always kissing, and I didn't fink you'd do vat, Coppy. not always kissing, old chap, “Tm It’s onl; now and then, and when you're bigger you'll - _ Lesa Your father mesnt it’s not good for re ” “Ah!” said Wee Willie Winkie, now fully en- codesety “Ti ppt eee brush.” “Exactly,” vely. “But I don’t fink Til orer want to kiss bi girls, nor no one, ‘cept my muvver. And must vat, you aon Te ere wasa ee babe) gen aul ‘1, Coppy?” “Are you “awfully!” said Coppy. me ag “Fonder van you are of Bell or ve Butcha— me?” “It's in a different ,” said yy. “You see, one of these da: Mise allardyos will be- long to me, but you’! yw up and command the regiment an sorts of things. It's quite different, “Very well, “It you're fond of ve girt, I won't tell any one. I must go now.” Coppy rose and escorted his small guest to the door, adding, ‘‘You’re'the best of little fel- lows, Winke. I are ey what. In thirty days ay ret bate if you like—tell any one ou like.’ 4 ~ ‘Thus the secret of the Brandis-Allardyce 1, Was at ease, for he felt that he Willie Wee Winkie ae, and unusual interest in Miss and, slowly revolving round: that winking eva "Hie wee y= « 2 mournfully, “‘and I didn't ought to speak to ou. ‘Very early the next morning he climbed on to the roof of the house—that was not forbidden id bebeld Miss Allardyce going for a ride. are joing?” Wee Willie Winkie. dae Oe “Across the river,” she answered, and trotted forward. Now the cantonment in which the one hundred and ninety-fifth jay was bounded on the north by a river—dry in winter. From his earliest, years Wee Willie Winkie had been forbidden to go across the river, and had noted fhat even Coppy—the almost almighty Coppy—had never set foot beyond it. Weo Willie Winkie had once been read to out of a big blue book, the “History of the Princess and the Goblins” —a most wonder- ful tale of a land where the goblins were ai- ways warring with the children of men until they were defeated by one Curdie. Ever since that date it seemed to him that the bare, binck and purple hills across the river were in habited by goblins, and, in truth, every one had said that there lived the bad men. Even in his own house the lower halves of the win- dows were covered with green paper on ac- count of the bad men who mignt, allowed clear view, fire imo peaceful drawing rooms and comfortable bed rooms. Certainiy. be- yond the river, which was the end of all the earth, lived the bad men. And here was Maj. Allardyce’s big girl, Coppy'’s property, pre- Paring to venture into their borders! hat would Coppy say if anything happened to her? If the goblins ran off with her as they did with Curdie’s princess? She must at all hazards be turned back. his shadow, very large and very black, on the trim garden paths, as he went down to the stables and ordered his pony. It seemed to him in the bush of the dawn that all the big world had been bidden to stand still and look at Wee Willie Winkie guilty of mutiny. The drowsy groom handed him his mount, and, one great sin made all others insignificant, Wee Willie Winkie said that he was going to ride over to Coppy Sahib.and went out at a foot pace, stepping on the soft mold of the flower bor- ders. ‘The devastating track of the pony’s feet was the last misdeed that cut him off from all sympathy of humanity. He turned into the road, leaned forward and rode as fast as the pony could put foot to the ground in the direc- tion of the river. But the liveliest of twelve-two ponies can do little against the long canter of a Waler. Miss Allardyce was far alead, had passed through the crops, beyond the police post, when all the guards were asleep, and her mount was scatter- ing the pebbles of the river bed as Wee Willie Winkie left the cantonment and British India behind him, Bowed forward and still flogging, Wee Willie Winkie shot into Afghan territory, and could just see Miss Allardyce a black speck, flickering across the stony plain, The reason of her wandering was simple enough, Coppy, in a tone of too-hastily-assumed authority, had toid her over mght that she must not ride out by the river, And she had gone to prove her own spirit and teach Coppy a lesson, Almost at the foot of the inhospitable hills Wee Willie Winkie saw the Waler blunder and come down heavily. Miss Allardyce struggled clear, but her ankle had been severely twisted, id she could not stand. Having thus demon- ‘ated her spirit, she wept copiously, and was ‘prised by the apparition of a white, wide- ed child in khaki, on a nearly spent pony. “Are you badly, badly hurted?” shouted Wee Willie Winkie, ax soon as he was within range, “You didn’t ought to be here.” don’t know,” said Miss Allardyce ruefully, ignoring the reproof. “Good gracious, child, what are you doing here?” “You said you was going acwoss ve wiver,” panted Wee Willie Winkie, throwing himself off his pony. “And nobody—not even Coppy— must go acwoss ve wiver, and I came after you ever so hard, but you wouldn't stop, and now you've burted yourself, and Coppy will be angwy wiv me, and—I've bwoken my aww I've bwoken my awwest!” The future colonel of the one hundred and ninety-fifth sat down and sobbed. In spite of the pain am ber ankle the girl was maak, “Have you ridden all the way from the can- tonments, little man? What for? “You belonged toCoppy. Coppy told me sol” wailed Wee Willie Winkie disconsolately. “Ieaw him kissing you,and he said he was fonder of you van Bell or ve Butcha or me. AndsoIcame. You must getup and come back. You didn’t ought to be here. Vis is a bad place and I've bwoken my awwest.” “I can’t move, Winkie,” suid Miss Allardyce, vith s groan, “I've hurtmy foot. What shall 0?” She showed a readiness to weep afresh, which steadied Wee Willie Winkie, who had been brought up to believe that tears were the depth of unmaniiness, Still, when one is as greata sinner as Wee Willie Winkie even a man may be permitted to break down. “Winkie,” said Miss Aliardyce, “‘when you've rested a little ride back and tell them to send out something to carry me back in. It hurts fearfully.” ‘The child sat still for a little time and Miss Allardyce closed hereyes, The pain was nearly making her faint. She was roused by Wee Willie Winkie tying up the reins on his pony's neck and setting it free with a vicious cut of his whip that made it whicker. The little ani- mal headed toward the cantonments. “Oh, Winkie! What are you doing?” tush!” said Wee Willie Winkie. “Ver a man coming—one of ve bad men. I must stay wiv you. My faver says man must always look after a girl. Jack will go home, and ven vlige come and look for us, Vat's why I let im go.” Not one man, but two or three, had appeared from behind the rocks of the hills, and the heart of Wee Willie Winkie sank within him, for just in this manner were the goblins wont to steal out and vex Curdie’s soul. Thue had they played in Curdie’s garden—he had seen the picture—and thus had they frightened the princess’ nurse. He heard them talking to each other and recognized with joy the bas- tard Pushto that he had picked up from one of his father’s grooms lately dismsed. People who spoke that tongue could not be the bad men. They were only natives, after all. They came up to the bowlders on which Miss Allardyce's horse had blundered. Then rose from the rock Wee Willie Winkie, child of the dominant race, aged six and three-quarters, and said briefly and em- phatically, “Jao!” The pony had crossed the river bed. The men laughed, and laughter from natives was the one thing Wee Willie Winkie could not tolerate. He asked them what they wanted and why they did not de Other men with most evil faces and crooked-stocked guns crept out of the shadows of the hills, till, soon, Wee Willie Winkie was face to face with an audience some twenty strong. Miss Allardyce screamed. Vho are you?” said one of the men. “Iam the Col. Sahib’s son and my order is that you go at once, You black men are fright- ening the Miss Sahib. One of you must run into cantonments and take the news that the Miss Sahib has hurt herself, and that the colonel’s son is here with her.” “Put our feet into the trap?” was the laugh- ing reply. “Hear this boy's speech!” “Say that I sent you—I, colonel’s son. They will give you money.” “What is the use of this talk? ‘Take up the child and the girl,and we can at least ask for the ransom. Ours are the villages on the heights,” said a voice in the background. These were the bad men—worse than gob- lins—and it needed all Wee Willie Winkie's training to prevent him from bursting into tears. But he felt that to cry before a native, ninety-fifth, had that grim regiment at bis Deck. im rou to carry us away?” said Wee Willie Winkie, very blanched and uncomforta- had been consternation in the colonel’s house. hold fer an hour before. The little beast came in through the parade groand in front of the main barracks, where the men were settling down to play spoil-five till the afternoon, Deve lin, the color sergeant of E company, glanced at the empty saddle and tumbled through the barrack rooms, kicking np each room corporal as he passed. “Up, ye beggars! There's something happened to the colonel's son,” he shouted “He couldn't fall off! S'elp me, 'e coulda’t fall off.” blubbered a drummer boy. “Go n° hunt acrost the river. He's over there if be's where, an’ maybe those Pathans have got ‘im. For the love o° Gawd don't look for ‘im in the nuliahs! Let's go over the river.” “There's sense in Mott yet,” said Deviim. “I company, double out to the river—sharp!” So E comp . ia its shirt sleeves mainly, doubled for the dear life, and in the rear toile the perspiring sergeant, adjuring it to double yet faster. The cant mt was alive with the men of the one b ing for Wee Wi ompany, far too exhausted Kin the pebbles of the river ing off the ch two shots. outed Din Mehoms “There is the warning! The puiton are out already and are "7 t end then, ag thdrew into the bill The house was still. Wee Willie Winkie re- |“ ng.” said Wee Willie flected for a moment on the very terrible wrath | Winkle confidently to Miss Allardyce, “and i's of his father, and then—broke his arrest! It | all wight, Don't ewy was acrime unspeakable. The low sun threw| He needed the advice himself, for tem minute was woep Allardye! . And the men of the one hundred and ninety- fifth carried him home with shouts and ree joicings, and Coppy, who had ridden a horse into a lather, met hu and, to his intense diss gust, kissed him openly in the presence of the me Bat there was balm for his dignity. His father assured him that not only would the later, when his father came up, g bitterly with his bead in Mise breaking of arrest be condoned, but that the good conduct badge would be restored as soom as his mother could sew it on his blouse sleeve, Miss Allardyeo nad told the colonel a story that made him prond of his «on. he belonged to you. Cop; said Wee ie Winkie, indicating Miss Allardyce with A grimy forefinger. “1 kuew she didn't ough® to go acwoss ve wiver, and I knew ve would come to me if I sent J “You're « hero, Winkie, pukka hero!” “Idon't Know what vat means,” said Wee Willie Wink: “but you mustn't call me Wine kie any no more, i'm Percival Will’am Wile Tams.” And in this manner did Wee Willie Winkie enter into his manhood. QUEER THING ack home,” suid Coppy—"@ DO HAPPEN. An Unvarnished Recital of the Advene tures of a Fall River Urchin. From the Fall River Globe, A boy with a wonderful capacity for cold water made a kind of Noah’s ark time of it last evening for people who dwell around the South Park. There isa tall stand pipe near the park, where the sprinkling carts load up and the pressure from the pond at that point is something like a million pounds to the square inch. Just what possessed the aforesaid boy toclimb that stand pipe while the band was playing gayly in the band stand will probably never be known, Possibly be had found life too slow at the drinking fountain, and it may be that he didn't think he could do the stand pipo any harm, At any rate he shinned up and began monkeys ing with the cap at the ¢ A full-grown mai with cold steel appli: have experienced cons fastening that tap, but the foot-bigh urchin found it éasy enough. His accomplishment will surprise him to the end of bis days. He was bending directly over the pipe, stomach down, when the Idst thread of the cap screw was loosened, There was a swish and a roar and the millions pound pressure vent a mighty volume of water a thousand feet into the air. It would have been a magnificent spectacle but for one feate ure, which froze the blood in the veins of the assembled multitude, As far as the eye could reach and almost at the very top of this tower of water a tiny specks slowly revolved, It was the small boy, helps less, and feebly waving bis hands ond feet im his terror. Fortunately the tremendous force supported him, and the centrifugal power, convexing toward the sides of the torrent. kept hima inthe middie. It was wet work looking on, but for a few seconds nobody dared to move. ‘Then @ brave member of the police department recov= ered his presence of mind and darted to the Park House telephone. A little later Superine tendent Kieran of the water works arrived om the scene, pale but determined. The same thought seemed to inspire the crowd at the same moment, for five hundred : “You must let him down Super -ntendent Kieran needed no such warning. He knew that to shut off the supply suddenly meant a terrible fall for the half. drowned lad, who had ceased to move up there among the stars, and with a touch as light as @ woman's be began to turn back the swift tide im the main artery. Inch by inch the tower of water diminished, inch by mch the smail speck of humanity dee scended. The excitement was at concert pitch, Everybody spoke in boarse whispers, Finally @ joyous cheer rang out. The urchin was thirty feet from the ground and ecores of arma were outstretched to receive him, “Stand was the order, and the last —— of water was turned off and the boy dropped safely into the network of bands, ‘That beats balloons.” he said, as be wiped bis face with his dripping sieeve. Mr. Bluffer—“‘Doan make much noise wid de cash, deacon, ‘cause my wife won't ‘low me te@ play keerds fer keeps. Life. — “Cast Up.” From the Detroit Free Press, Oue morning some of the early risers made adiscovery on the beach. There had been @ heavy sea and a strong tide during the night, and on the hard. wet sand lay a corpse. It was that of a man, clothed in a bathing sult He lay face downward, onc leg drawn up, and bis head was covered with seaweed, ‘News of the ghastly discovery spread quickly, and in half an Coor there were five bundred of us around the body. No one had been drowned off our beach, but he might have come from above or below. After a little time « man was ble. . found willing to do,the ~‘bossing,” and he sent a my little Sahib Bahadur,” said the a man after the oovuner. He was about to ve: est of “and eat you afterward.” another after a doctor, when « very “That is chi 's talk,” said Wee Willie Winkie. gentleman from Pittsburg wanted to know if @ “Men do not eat men. man who had been dead wl ede ay why ng A yell of laughter interrupted him, but he | could receive any substantial benefits from —And if you do carry us away, | visit of a doctor. Then it was concluded not on yee ee it will come up in | to disturb the doctor, but a a day and kill you a lea’ one. eae Ses Benes Sane Oe and dee 4 manded to know: week, ernear"sad Woe Wl | oa fee gag rl him om bart Winkie had a colloquial acquaintance or no?” three—was easy to the ‘There was a move made to geta barrel, but menage ie "asad the oo yo arene gee ene teed Another man waste of time. “Q, foolish men! What this babe “Why don’t somebody rub him?” asked one, He is the heart's heart of those “Send for the life guard,” added another. For the sake of peace let them go both, for sSeme ono ge Sor samples, pat in o ted, he be taken the regiment Nobody moved, of course. only thing gut the . Our villages to be done was to eae Ge ame Se sith Kicks when he oned‘aod al thet, "Many of tho women she with kicks he tried to take the rifles; pened and ell that Many of the women shed if we touch this child they will fire and ‘ears and a man from Canade started to pass and plunder for a month—till around the hat, We hed been surrounding the Better to send a man back to for three-quarters of an hour and some and get reward. wie ee shop one just remarked that the coroner would God and that soon be there, when the dead man suddenly our women, if we * straightened out bis log. and sat ‘Then be of the colonel, who made arms and in » yewn and and hested discussion up the beach the remark: ‘Wilts Winkie, over that a fellow can’t take a sun- waited the bath everybody making such a fuse Roowa "wepiment” about it.” 7 bd s Poor Effie (who has been — ‘The rideriess pony walked about all over my band, ry | one hundred and ice! but oh! when it set down!—Punct,