Evening Star Newspaper, January 24, 1891, Page 8

8 i STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C, SATURDAY, JANUARY 24, 1891—SIXTEEN PAGES. AREQUIPA IN PERU. A City Beautifully Located and With Many Attractions. CALLED A PLACE OF REST But It is Continually Shaken Up by Earth- quakes—The Great Shocks Twenty Odd Years Ago—Seenes Described by Fye- Witness—Kelies Dug From the Debris. ‘From the Star's Traveling Commissioner. Auzquirs, Pen. Nov. 25. Mn, THAN Foun HUNDRED YEARS ¥2ago this second city of Peru was a half-way halting place for travelers between the loftier Andee and the sea and hence camo by ite name, | Arequipa, the word in the aboriginal tongue | signifying “Place of Rest.” As early as the days of Iiocea, the sixth inca, who conquered ali this part of Pers, it was a military colony. | Ia 1340 Pizarro transformed it into a Spanish stronghold, but with better taste than charac- terized most of his nomenciature, did not Change its ancient name. Just back of the town towers the lofty volcano Misti, quiescent now but ready to burst forth again, perhaps as the accompaniment of an- other tremendous earthquake, something as Mount Etna rises behind Catania. Nearly 18,- 000 feet in height, a perfect cone, topped with eternal snow, with perpetual summer at its base, Misti is one of the most beautiful moun- tains of the whole Andean system. On one side of it stands the lesser mountain, pichn, with foothills stretching tance and on the other side Charebani; then comes Coropuna end then the elevated Pampa (plain) de Arrieros, stretching away to the volcano Usinas, dimly seen toward the Bolivian frontier. TUATED LIKE DAMASCUS. Modern travelers have likened Arequipa to Damaseus, not only because of its low walls | and gray surroundings, but because, like the | oriental city, it stands upon the edge of a! desert, all {ts verdure | flowing through the arid waste. The valley of | Arequipa is only about ten miles long by five | miles wide, environed on every side by desert sands and barren mountains. The rapid river named Chile, which runs through the middie of the town, does not furnish sufficient water for bountiful irrigation, but wherever it can be turned on the land is rendered wonderfully | productive and is worth $1,000 per acre and ‘Upward. BEAUTY OF THE CLIMATE. ‘The altitude of Arequipa is not quite 9,000 | feet, just high enous! ude, to insure perfect weather from year to year. No words can do justice to the beanty of the climate, never excessively hot and never cool enonz! for fires, with searcely any change between midsummer and midwinier, a light blanket | being necessary every night ‘in the year and | open witidlows whatever the season. There is a wet time and a dry, but rains seldom fall dar- ing the day and’ never to excess. Frost and sow ave unknown except away up in the mountains and the most beautiful roses one ean imagive blossom perpetually and ampled profusion. VARIETY OF FRUITS. As an illustration of the variety of fruits growing hereabouts I may mention that toward the end of January (a year ago) some friendly Arequipanians gave to the writer a birthday fete In the form of a picnic. ‘The party went by special train toa point eighteen miles or | more from the eity, where we were landed in a | sand bank, not even # house or tree or biade of grass being in sight, everywhere nothing but grav mand and broken boulders. By dint of scrambling, sliding and rolling down a very hill, which wus a foot deep in loose ea) and stones, we came at last to the level of the river, dashing noisily along ita rocky bottom and crossed by a charming old arch of adobe, as quaint as the early Spaniards could make it. Then following the devious windings of the stream, past several bamboo casas of local farmers, we came at length to the dense shade of a natural grove of fig trees, whose broad leaves and far-reaching branches roofed a carpet of softest grass sprinkled with wild flowers, the rocky wail of the lower bill side draped with a thick curtain of golde2 nas- tartions and the river bunk fringed with helio- trope. musk and blue-starred myrtle. There, almo-t within reach of our hands, grew ripe and lascious figs, grapes, strawberrios, apricots, plums, pears and peaches, the latter three arietics only having been planted by’ the Tanehman, the others being the spontaneous products of the soil. PRESENT POPULATION. The present population of Arequipa is about 20,000—not nearly so great as in times long past. Yet it is still one of the prineipal places in Peru, second only to Lima, and being the capital of a rich department and the place of Tesidence of a bishop, has always exercised | tower remained Pending upon river | P’ felt the people rush, peil mell, out of door at Whatever hour of day or night, regardless of clothes or any other consideration but self preservation, and immediately afterward, soon && the man whose exprees business it is can reach the belfry, every bell in the city begins to toll, as an expression of prayer for deliver- ance or of appeal if the terror has not subsided. Ou the occasion deseribed the quaking of the earth was accompanied by an awful rumbiing, similar to the nolee of an avalanche, and in Ices than three minutes the church towers fell and the bells came erashing to the ground. ‘The great effort of everybody was to keep well in the middle of the streets to be mare out of the reach of flying stones and timbers and to reach the broad open space of the main plaza as the sfest place, bui the earth shook «0 that it was extremely difficult to keep one’s feet and in their tight scores were buried under falling walls or killed by the debris that tilled the arr. THE WHOLE CITY IN DIS1 AND DARKNESS. The whole city ti" enveloped in clouds of dust and darkness, and above the sound of the horrible rambling re-eehoed cries of human anguish, the frantic bellowing of beasts, the howling of terrified dogs andl the crackling of tumbling buildings, Not « single house was left entire in Arequipa, and but one chureh that ‘of Santa Catarina—but | it was so damaged that it had to bo puiled | down. For weeks the citizens were compelled | to live in tents pitched near the bank of the | river, and for many days none dared to return te town because the rumbling and «hocks con- | tinued. Of course the rougher element ven-| tured forth first, and many families whose val- uables were spared by the earthquake, or were but partially buried in the debris, lost all at the hands of thieves. Meanwhile Mount Misti, which had not been in eruption before during the historical period, vomited forth uantities of mud, lava and clouds of smoke, Ge"latior completely “hiding ite sides fron view, but through the darkness came the hor- rible sound of falling boulders and a roaring as of acolomal furnace. ‘The usually calm river was rendered impassable and unfit for use by reason of its sndden violence and sul- phurous odors, while the rine in its waters was fo great and rapid that within six hours sev- eral villages in the adjacent valley were swept entirely out of existence. ‘THE SICK BURIED IN TRE RUINS. The sick in the hospitals and the prisoners in the carcel, being unable to flee, were buried in the ruins. Just now, after twenty-three Years, they are cleering ‘out the debris from | A FINE DAY'S SPORT. Budyard Kipling Goes Salmon Fish- ing in the Clackamas, IN A SALMON CANNERY. A Strange Ride Over All Kinds of Rosds—A Foreigner's Impressions of the Country and People—A Half Hour's Fight With a Plucky ¥ish—Interesting Description. Written for the Evening Star. HAVE LIVED! THE AMERICAN CONTI- nent may now sink under the sca, for [have taken the best that it yields, and the best was neither dolinrr, love nor real estate. Here, now, gentlemen of the Punjanb Fishing Club, | who whip the reaches of the Tayi, and you who painfull and I will tell you how old man California and | Iwent fishing and you shall envy. We re-/ turned from ‘The Dalles to Portland by the way we had come, the steamer stopping en route to pick up night's eatch of one of the salmon wheels on the river and to deliver it at a can- nery down stream. When the proprietor of the wheel announced that Ais take was 2,290 pounds weight of fish “and nota heavy catch | neither"I thought he lied. But he sent the boxes aboard and I counted the salmon by the hundred—huge fifty pounders hardly dead, scores of twenty and thirty pounders and a host of smaller fieh, They were all Chenook salmon, as distinguished from the “steel head” and the “silver side.” ‘That is to say, they were royal salmon, and Colifornia and I dropped a tear | over them as monarchs who deserved a better | fate, but the lust of slaughter entered into our | vuis and we talked fish und forgot the moun- | fain scenery that hind xo moved usa day be- ore. import troat over to Otacamund, | IX THE SALMON CANNERY. . ‘The steamer halted at a rude wooden ward- house, built on piles ina lonely reach of the the fallen walls of what was once the woman's hospital and occupied a square in the central | art of the city. We often extend our morning walks in that direction, and seldom pass with- | out seeing «skull, @ trunk or some other por- | tion of a human skeleton, removed with the dust and stones and crumbled plaster. Fast as the workmen shovel into the debris, it is! dumped into boxes that are run in on an im- | provised railway, while a cart stands near into | which the bones are mostly piled and carried | off to the cemetery. The last time we paused | to watch the progress of the work one of the | diggers picked out an arm bone, wrapped it in a bit of course checked flannel that ley n the | dirt near it, and presented it to me for a re- | cusrdo—a gruerome souvenir of not the least sul part of the great catastrophe. Eighty women, helpless in their beds, buried amid toppling walls, and not one of them saved! It is to be hoped that all were instantly killed, and none left wounded to perish by slow star- vation. Stranger still it seems that their mains were never taken from the heap in which they fell, but were left unburied for more than tweuty years in the heart of the city. Fansie B. Warp. _—+se— Redfern’s Designs for # Pretty House Gown and an Appropriate Street Costume. Redfern has produced a large assortment of designs for all manner of gowns suitable for those who have passed the meridian of life, and moreover calculated to conceal defects and to enhayce the matured charms of their wear- ers. Of such is the pretiy house gown here given. considerable influence on the politics of the country. The Indian population of the higher altitudes are much more courageous and turb- uleat than thowe living and are fully alive to the pleasures of a revolution of an election riot, while the higher clases are opulent. proud, independent and prone to re- ist the governmental flats sent forth from Lima. Indeed the people seem to be as uncer- tain, politically and socially, as the ground upon whieh their city stands, if one may by the frequency of revolutions and it 3 ETUC tions. During ‘the last three centuries there have been as many as twelve seve earthquake shocks and innumerable ligh’ ‘ones, und in the same length of time scarcely a season has gone by without one or more polit- ical revolts, while plots and counterplots against the powers that be are constantly going en. In 1967 the city was bombarded for three days by the president of the republic, who failed to capture it, and I doubt if there has ever yet been a peaceable election. During our stay here we have had several glimpses of incip- fent revolutions and bloody skirmishes. A POLITICAL SKIRMISH. We had been in the habit of going out on horseback with a few friends about once a week to a suburban village called Pauearpati, where it is the correct thing to breakfast on Guinea pig and other local delicacies. But the next day after our last visit there another party “came to grief’ ina terrible manner. It seems that two groups of rival political factions hap- pened to meet im front of the breakfasting Place and, as usual, at once resorted to euch convincing arguments a are contained in pi daggers, stones and clubs. A youn En- of the visiting party received « bullet through his hat,as shots and missiles came fiying through the windows; the ladies fainted, the landlord was wounded almost unto death end one servant was kil ‘The party was It is of gray bengaline over a petticoat of darker gray cloth, which is braided with black and steel. “The revers, lapels in the back, and the sleeves are also braided. Down each front of the bodice is aclose row of steel buttons, and shorter rows on the drapery where it shows the petticoat. The other figure illustrates « street costume for a middle-aged matron. compelled to remain there all day and night, for fighting was kept up at irregular intervals along the road to town, though troops were sent out twice to disperse the insurgents, and the record of the duy's casualties amounted to qore than 100 killed’and wounded. WORK OF THE EARTHQUAKES. In earlier days there was no town in the in- terior of South America #o well built as Arequipa. but numerous earthquakes have taught the the wisdom of sticking re- Hgfoasty to's cortain uot protentions phe of srebitecture. There is a great searcity of tim- Der bere or it wouid be popalar in the construc- tion of the houses, for those. made of wood can hold out against quaking and heavy foundations Detter than others made of more solid materials. ‘The very beat and safest are those of the poorer Classes —a network of frail bamboo, plastered With mad outsite and in to fill the chinks be- ‘tween the poles and the intervening withes: bat these, of ald never do for the aristo- latter prefer massive structures, though sekiom more than one story in height, built of white, volcanic stone from the near-by Mountains, their vaulted roofs and ceilings be- ing of the sume material. Thus their great strength and solidity prevents them from fall- ing before the ordinary terremote or trembling of the earth. which is of almost daily and nightly occurrence, but have not prevented many and many e catastr: The worst one within the memory of ly wounded, eluding the splendid destroyed and between four and five thousand’ buildings leveled to the groand. Happily it did not occur when people were asleep in their beds, and thanks to the warning by premonitory sbocksand the prevailing Beighl of the ings, ro thet the falling walls «lid not in most places cover the whole of the strects, the low of life was less than it ‘would otherwise have been. ‘THE SMOCK OF 1568, Tbave heard the story of that terrible time lost home and first shock m2. ‘The get w intervals “of fifteen oF 2 feremote ls a | Can't see why you object to him,” mid Ethel. Tt is a polonaise of wood brown cloth, braided with metallic thrends. On the left side ix a wide panel of seal brown velvet, over which | the cloth opens and is caught with braided | bncklew. bodice is buttoned under the left arm, below 2 lapel of velvet, which covers all the chest. ‘The small eapote has a smail cloth crown and velvet brim, with tiny tips in front. From Puck. “He in a nice, religious-minded maa, and I “Well, if he'd kicked an €8 silk hat of yours down the middle aisle. while passing the con- tribution box, you wouldn't like him any better than I do,” retorted papa. river, and sent in the fish. I followed them up a seale-strewn, fishy incline that led to the can- nery. The crazy building was quivering with the machine: 00rs and a glittering bank of, tin scraps twenty feet high showed | where the waste was th: after the cans if been punched y on were emplo on the work ey looked like blood ‘b mneured, yellow devils as they crossed the rifts of sunlight that lay upon the floor. When our consignment arrived the rengh wooden boxes broke of themselves as they were dumped down under a jet of water and the salmon burst out in a stream of quicksilver. A China- man jerked up a twenty pounder, behcade and detailed it with two swift strokes of a knife, flicked out its internal with a third and cast it into a blood-dy nk. The headles« fish leaped from under his hands as though they were facing a Tr: Chinemen pulled them from the vat and thrust | them under a thing like a chaff cutter, which, descending, hewed them into unseemly red gobbets, fit for the can. More Chinamen, with yellow, crocked fingers, JAMMED THE STUFF INTO THE CANS, Which slid down some marvelous machine forthwith, soldering their own tops us they passed. Ench can was hastily tested for flaws and then sunk with a hundred companions into | & vat Of Doiling water, there to be half cooked for a few min: ‘The cans bulged slightly after the operation and-were thererore slide along by the trollyful to men with needles and soldering irons, who vented them and soldered the aperture ept for the label the “tinest | Colunfbia salmon” was ready for the market. I | was impressed not so much with the speed of the manufacture as the character of the fac . Inside, on a floor 90 by 40, the most civ- murderous of machinery. Outeide, three footsteps, the thick gro pines ani the immense solitude of the hills. Our steamer only stayed twenty minutes at that piace, but I counted 240 finished eans made from the catch of the previous night ere I left the slippery Dlood stained, xeale-xpangled oily floors and tho ofal-smeared Chinamen. OFF FOR A SALMON RIVER. We reached Portland, Celifornia and I ery- ing for salmon, and a real estate man, to whom we had been intrusted by an insurance man, met us in the street, saying that fifteen miles away, across country, we should come upon a | place called Clackamas, where we might per- chance find what we desired. And Califor his coat tails flying in the wind, ran_to a livery | stable and chartered a wagon and team fortli- with. Icould push the wagon about with one | hond, so light was its structure. ‘The team was povely Ameriean—that is to say, almost human in its intelligence and doeility. ’ Some one said that the roads were not good on the Clackamas and warned us against suashin eprings. “Portland,” who. h preparations, finally reckoned “he'd come along, too,” and under heavenly skies we three companions of a day set forth, California eare- fuily lashing our rods into the carriage and the bystanders overwhelming us with directions as | to the sawmills we were vo ps were to cross and the sign posts we signs from. Halfa mile from this city 000 | souls we struck (and this must be taken liter- ally) a plank road that would have been « dis- grace to an Irish village. ALL KINDS OF ROADS. Then six miles of macadamized road showed us that the team could move. A railway ran | between us and the bunks of the Willamette and another above us through the mountains. All the land was dotted with emall townships and the roads were full of farmers in their | town wagons, bunches of tow-haired, boggle- eyed urchins sitting in the hay behind. ‘he men generelly looked like loafers, but their women were all well dressed. Brown braiding | on a tailor-made jacket does note however, con- sort with hay wagons. ‘Then we struck’ into the woods along what Cahfornia called camina reale—a good road—and Port- Ind a “fair track.” It wot in and out among fire-blackened stumps, under pine trees, along the corners of log fences, through hollows, which must be hope- leas marsh in winter, and up absurd gradients. Butinownere throughout its length did I see any evidence of road making. ‘There was a track—you couldn't well get off it, and it was all you could do to stay on it. The dust lay a foot thick in the blind ruts, and under the dust we found bits of planking and bundles of brushwood that sent the wagon bounding into the air. ‘The journey in iteclf was a delight. Sometimes we crashedsthrough bracken where the bluckberries grew rankest, w ely little eemetery, the wooden rails awry und the pitiful stampy headstones nod- Ging drunkenly at the soft green: mullein ‘Then, with oaihs und the sound of rent under- | wood. a yoke of mighty bulls would swing dow. « “skid” road hauling a 40-foot log along | a rudely made slide. READY FOR ANYTHING. Avvalley fall of wheat and cherry trees sue- ceeded, and halting at a house we bought ten- pound weight of luscious black cherries for something less than a rupee and got a drink of icy cold water for nothing, while the untended tcum browsed sagaciously by the roadside. Once we fonnd a wayside camp of horse deal- ers lounging by a pool, ready for a sale ora swap, and once two sun-tanned youngsters shot down a ill on Indian ponies, their fall crecls banging from the high pummeled saddle. They had been fishing and were our brethren therefore. We shouted aloud in chorus to scare a wildcat; we squabbled over the reasons that had led a snake to cross a road; we heaved bits of bark at a venturesome chipmunk, who was really the little gray squirrel of India and had come to call on me: we lost our way and got the wagon so beautifully fixed on a kbud- and that we had to tie the two hind wheels to get it down. Above all California told tales of Nevada and Arizona, of lonely nights spent ont prospecting, the slaughter of deer and the chase of men, of woman, lovely Fowan, who is a firebrand in 2 western city an 1s to the of pistols, and fadden changes ‘aad chanced of fortune, who delights in making the miner or the lumber- mun a quadruplicate millionaire and in “bust- ing” the railroad king. in at a tiny farm house on the banks of the Clackamas and sought horse feed and lodging, ere we hastened to the river that broke over # weir not quar- ter of @ mile uray, Hnagine stream seventy yards broad divided by a island, run- hing over seductive “rifties™and swirling into uiet water, un: foot bluif just to the frym growing too mohotonoansnd 304 w some The t notion of the Clackamas. | by inch. "We landed him in a little bay und the | | the pebbles, and California canght me round | | the waist in a hng thet went near to breaking | | he struck and =y |,the morning stars sing together. | athan. | thet had died so gamely, was hastily hooked on | the balance and flung back. Portland recorded his leap the weir and landed on the foot plank jar that shook the board I was standing on, I would fain have claimed him for my own capture. ‘THE FIRST SALMON, Portland had no rod. He held the gaff and the whisky. California sniffed up stream and down stream, across the racing water, chose his ground and let the gaudy fly drop in the tail of frifte. “Twas getting iy tod wegether when T heard the joyous shriek of the reel and the yells of California, and three feet of living sil- ver leaped into the air far across the water. ‘The forces were engaged. The salmon tore up stream, the tense line cutting the water like ® tide rip behind him, and the light bamboo bowed to breaking. What happened therenfter Teannot tell. California awore and prayed and Porilana shouted advice, and I did all three for what appeared tobe half aday, but was in reality « lithe over a quarter of an hour, and sullenly our fish came home with «purts of tem- tr, dashes head on and xarabands in the cir, mt home to the bank ceme he and th: less reel gathered up the thread of jis life inch | ig weight in his gorzeons gilla checked at é pounds. Eleven and one-half pounds of ighiting salmon! We danced a war dance o my ribs while he shouted: “Partner! ner! ‘This is glory! Now, you catch y ‘Twenty-four years I've waited for this KIPLING’S FIRST CAST. I went into that icy cold river and made my cast just above the weir, andall but foul hooked ablue and black water snake with a coral month, who coiled herself on a stone and hissed maledictione. The next east—ah, the pride of it, the regul spiendor of it! the thrill that ran down from finger tip to toe! ‘Then the water boiled. He broke for the fly and got it. There remained enough sense in me to give him all he wanted when he jumped not once, but twenty times, before the up-stream flight that ran my line out to the last haif dozen turns, and I saw the nickeled reelbar glitter under the thinning green coils. My thumb was burned deep when I strove to stopper the line, but I did not feel it till later, for my soul was out in the dancing weir praying for him to turn ere he took my tackle away. And the prayer was heard. As T bowed back, the butt of the rod on my left hip bone and the top joint dippfn Part- yur fish ! or “There an riding the trail met a jack rabbit ing | ‘cactus,” or "Bout the dime iy Aa ‘on yourself what sort of stories they were. Ropranp Kiruiso. tee ‘Written for The Evening Star. FOOLING UNCLE REMUS, ‘The Familiar Old Character Thinks He Finds a Snake, URING THE PAST SUMMER THE lady whom Uncle Remus calls “Miss Sally," and for whom be does odd jobs, went toone of the Virginia watering places. Fo some reason of other her stay was prolonged until the latter part of September. When she returned she found her back yard overgrown with grass and weeds, although she had _partic- ularly cautioned the old negro to keep it clean. She was very much surprised and somewhat in- diguant at the apparent neglect and the next morning she made it convenient to be in and about the front porch as much as possible in order toemploy the first idle negro that came along and have the whole lot put in order. Among the first to put in an appearance was Uncle Remus himself. He had a email garden hoe on his shoulder and -a heavy cane in his hand. He stopped at the gate and looked up and down the strect, and then came slowly into the yard. The Indy watched him as he came up the walk. His face, furrowed with the lines of age and laugh ter, was very grave, and there was hitch in his gait which told of a with rheumatism. ~The lady was watching from a window, and, somehow, her indignation disappeared as she gazed at the weather-beaten features of the old man. She hed known him since she was a little child, although her own youth had long since taken wings, and she was inclined to look kindly on all his failings. He ‘was a family appendage, a piece of furniture that had become valuable as a relic. Though thelady is @ matron, with w plentiful rinkling of gray in her hair, a spirit of mis- chief seized her. She went forth on the porch, and before Uncle Remus, with a happy smile on his face, could take off his hat and give her a genuine plantation greeting. she said: like unto a weeping willow he turned aud a cepted ench inch of slack that I conld by any means get in as afavor from on high. ‘There be several sorts of success in this world that taste well in the moment of enjoyment, but I question whether the stealthy theft of line from an able-bodied salmon who knows exactly what pu are doing and why you are doing it is not weeter than any other victory within human seope. Like California’s fish; he ran at me head on and leaped against the line, but the Lord gave me 250 pairs of fingers in that hour. ‘The banks and the pine trees danced dizzily round me, but I only reeled—reeled as for life- reeled for hours, and at the end of the reeliny continued to give him the butt while he sulked ina pool. Californin was further up the reach, with the corner of my eye I could see_him casting with long easta and mnch skill. ‘Then fish broke for the weir in the same instant,and down the reach we came, California and I, reel answering reel even as AT WORK IN EARNEST. The first wild enthusiasm of capture had died away. We were both at work now in deadly earnest to prevent the lines fouling, to stall off & down-stream rush for shaggy water just above the weir and at the same time to get the fish into the shallow bay down stream that gave the best practicable landing. Portland bade us both be of good heart, and volunteered to take the rod from my hands. I would rather have died among the pebbles than surrender my right to play and land a salmon, weight unknown, with an eight-onnce rod. ‘I heard California at my ear, it seemed, gasping, “He's a fighter from Fightersville sure, as Ein fish wie a fresh break across the stream. I saw ortland fall off a log fence, break the over- hanging bank and clatter down to the pebbles, all sand and landing net, and I dropped on a log to rest for a moment. As I drew breath the weary hands slackened their hold and I forgot to vi im the butt. A wild scutter in the lunge and a break for the head waters ckamas was my reward, and the weary toil of reeling in with one eye under the water and the other on the top joint of the rod was renewed. Worst of all, 1 was blocking California's path to the little landing by said and he had to halt and tire his p: he was. shouted. “For the love of heaven get your trout to bank, Johnny Bull!” But I could do no more. — Even the insult failed to move me. | ‘The rest of the game was with the salmon. He | suffered himself to be drawn, skipping with etended delight at getting to the haven where | would fain bring him. Yet no sooner did he foel shoal water under his ponderous belly than he backed like a torpede boat and the snarl of the reel told me that my labor was in vain. A dozen times at least this happened ere the line hinted he had given up thnt battle and would be towed in. He was towed. LANDED AT Last. The landing net was useless for one of his size, and I would not have him gaffed. I stepped into the shallows and heaved him out with arespectful hand under the gill, for which kindness he battered me about the legs with his tail, and I felt the strength of him and was proud. California had taken my place in the hallows, his fish hard held. I was up the bank lying full length on the sweet-scented grassand guping in company with my first salmon caught, plaved and landed on an eight-ounce Hiy hands were cut and bleeding, I was i With sweat, spangled like harlequin with scales, water from my waist down, nose peeled by the sun, but utterly, supremely and consummately happy. He, ‘the beauty, the darling, the daisy, my ‘Salmon Bahadur, eighed twelve pounds, and I had been seven id thirty minutes bringing him to bank. He <d been lightly hooked ‘on’ the angle of the right jaw and the hook had not wearied him. ‘That hour I sat among princes and crowned heads, greater than them all. Below the bank we heard California scuffling with his salmon and swearing Spanish oaths. Portland and I assisted at the capture, and the tish dragged the spring balance out by the roots. It was ouly constructed to weigh up to fifteen pounds. Wo stretched the three fish on the the cleven and a half, the twelve and fifteen pounder—and we gave an oath that all who came after should merely be weighed and put back again. A FINE Day's CATCH. How shall I tell the glories of that day so that you may be interested? Again and again did California and I prance down that reach to the tle bay each with a salmon in tow and land in in the shallows. Then Portiand took my rod and caught some ten pounders and my spoon was carried away by an unknown levi Each fish, for the merits of the three the weight in a pocket book, for he was a real ch fish fought for all he was worth and none more savagely than the amallost, # game little six pounder. At the end of six nurs we added up the list. Read it. Total, “Howdy, old man. I have no work for you today. en she turned and began to pull down the dead madeira vines that were still clinging to the strings on which they had so bravely in the «ummei “Lor’, Miss Sally ! you can't fool old Remus,” exclaimed the old man, Inughing. “Did you gay you knew old Remus?” the lady asked quite seriously. “He wasa great deal older than you are and T expect he’s dead by this time. “Until T saw the hoe in your hand T thought you were Remus himself. He abvays carried a bag instead of a hoe and he never w in anybody's yard that he didn’t come out with his bag full of victuals. When you get as old as Remus was* you'll be better off by going to the poor honse.” lady talked 80 seriously that the smile died away on the old man’s face and before he could say anything she had gone mto the house humming a tune." Unele Remus stood scratch- ing his head and reflecting, and then he went slowly around the house and took a seat on the cage of the pasingeway that led from the kitehen to the back porch. ‘The cook,who had been living on the place during the lady's ab- sence, was busy cleaning up. ‘Chlory,’ i “4s you notice Mise Sally right close sence she come back? “Tain't got no time ter watch white folke, id the cook, who was fat and high tempered. Vhat I wanter be watchin’ Miss Sally fer?” Ides ax you,” said Uncle Remns, with a sigh. He had heard the blinds of the dining- room window rattle and he knew his Miss Saliy was listening. ‘I des ax you,” he repeated in alouder tone. “She waz standin’ out yander in de front er de house des now en [axed her howdy, en she sorter roll her eye, she did, en ‘low dat I wuz dead. “Hush, man!" exclaimed the cook, coming to the kitchen door and looking at Uncle Remus in astonishment. ,” said the old man Taint so much what ‘ez de way she do. I bin sence she was a suckin’ baby, and I ain't never is see her show de white er her eye like she done des now.” I say it!” exclaimed the cook. Yassnm,” said Uncle Remus, with increased solemnity, “she stood dar, she did, en look like she dazed. I des bin run i i ef any er de fambly been way, en de nighest I kin come at it is dat Miss Sally gran'ma, she had a full blood br’er what mar- ried a ‘oman dat showed de white er her eye, en dat ‘oman she had ter be put in a straight ket.” ‘Well! well! well!” exclaimed the cook. “You sho'ly don’t tell me!” Before Uncle Remus could make any reply there was a swish of a dress on the back porch and rattling of keys. ‘Then a sharp, angry oi¢8 galled cut: are you going toc'oan up that yard? You are not Iwant you to get off of this Yassum, Miss Sally,” exclaimei Uncle Remus, as he seized his hoe; “I des gittin’ me a drink er water. With that the old man began his attack on the grass and weeds in the yard, and_ the lady sat ata window where she could watch him. She was not long in observing that he was in no special hurry. He would grub away for a few minutes and then lear on the handle of his hoe nd rest. Frequently he would turn his hoe around, examine the blade of it and shake his head. He seemed to get on with his work so slowly that the Indy put on ber sun bonnet and It lot sixteen fish, aggregate weight, 141 pounds, The score in detail runs something like this it iv only interesting to those concerned—15, 114, 12, 10, 98{, 8 and so forth; as I have said, nothing under six pounds and three ten pound. ers. AT THE FARMER'S FIRESIDE. Very solemnly and thankfully we put up our rods—it was glory enough for all time—and re- turned weeping in each other's arma, weep’ tears of pure joy, to that simple, pabetnons | family in the ing case house by the water side. The old farmer recollec' days and nights of flerce warfare with the Indians “way back in the fifties,” when every ripple of the Columbia river and her tributaries hid covert danger. God had dowered bim with a queer, 1 ed gift of ion and a fierce anxiety for the welfare of his two little sons—tanned oe re ape 5 who — school yan e good English in a strango ngue. His wife was an austere woman who hu once been kindly and, perhaps handsome. Very many years of taken the elasticity out of step and voice. She looked for nothing better than everlast work--the chafing de- then ® grave some- went out to overses the job. For an hour she kept the old mar very busy, and he grew tired of it. She was not in the habit of following him up so closely. Finally, when he saw that she intended to see the yard cleaned then and there, Uncle Renus raised his hea aud looked all around, suifiiing the air. ‘Whut is the matter now?” the lady asked. ncle Remus made no reply to the question; but continaed suiting the air, looking very rious. Presently he said in a very loud and emphatic ton “L wonder wharbouts is dat snake what I bin interferin’ wid?’ “What are you talking about?” the lady asked contemptuously. “Bout dat ar snake what I smells, kin allers smell um when dey gits stirred up.” “What snake?” asked the lady with something more than curiosity. “Dat ar snake what I bin interferin’ wid. He somers closte "roun’ here, sho.” “Where?” asked the lady, instinctively grasp- ing her skirts. “Miss Sally,” said Uncle Remus in the most business-like way, “I wish you'd please ma'am be so good ez ter look in dat bunch er grass dar. Ul so rank he bleedz ter be right *roun’ here. Lusload of searching in the bunch of grass iss Sally” jerked up her skirts, gave a little scream and ran to the house like’a deer. Safe on the back porch she turned und looked at Uncle Remus. ‘The old man was half bent and his head was going from side to side. He pre- tended to be searching for the snake, but his Miss Sally knew that he was laughing at her. Angry as. she was, she interfered with Uncle Remus no more, but left him to clean the yard in his own way and in his own time. Jorn CHANDLER Haneis. HIS NEW CLOTHES. HOW MRS. PARKER DECEIVED | HER HUSBAND AND WHAT FOLLOWED. [D™2 ME! WHAT MORE COULD I Do? Tr was just impossible to buy new ones and [ had done ali I conld do to these: it is so hard to mend up a man’s outside clothes. I can—I did— patch flaunels till they are a real crazy | quilt. I sm quite prond of my patching and Fred’s flannels were ail over tiny squares and triangles, in fact, all sorta of shapes, put on with such fine cat-stitching he said it was a real work of art; and as for his stockings, ther were a8 good as new, with those bean German darns that dear Mrs. Watson taught me to make; but when you come to patching pantaloons and then darning down the ov side it Will show, and the battons pall out the fabric before the thread gives way, *° there are more patches; and the lining all and the pockets worn throngh—ob! The co} gets so shiny, too, und I'd like toknow what wi help that? Idid put on a little shoe blackin; in one spot, but it only made a smudge, so 1 | ‘was glad it was put on the under part of the sleeve where it would never show. Then those coat buttons! I hate to put them on, for you must cither rip the coat to pieces or sew | throngh where it shows so. I was afrzid to rip | his, lest the stuff should fall to. pieces if once it came off tho stiffening and the lining. ‘The vest was all rags behind, but I put a n in somehow, nobody could see how, an glad of that, for I bad no machine to stitch the seams. Tdid not know what to do. We are so poor; yet Fred was clerk in a bank and must look decent, and it was because of my long illness | we were behindhan medicine do cost so! But Fred did not if he only had me back, he said, and it was & chance—no, a guod providence—that he And I suppose I should have felt just eo about | him. Stil yon can see how we have to be so | very economical now. ell, I went over one day to Mrs. Arkwright to cut out some work for the Good will Socict} We work altogether for home missions, aid there's always clothing of all kinds wanted. Just now we were going to filla barrel for a | missionary out in Oregon, who had six childven and the rheumatism. "His wife had sciatica and | had to stay in bed most of the time. Poor | things! They must be kept warm, and we were | going to cut over flannels for all the children. So many people sent us shrunk or ougrown | Festi and drawers, I stood there cutting out the little things, thinking to myself that there | was one small comfort left go them. Out in | Oregon you could wear old clithesand nobody | would mind it, especially if you were missi aries, and got all your clothes out of sewing- society barrels. T looked down at my old cashmere that had | m been turned and sponged and fixed over so i I had to look respectable, too, | 3 iving in Foxcroft. That cashmere | was my ‘wedding traveling dress; it was dark | reen then, now it is black. And old Aunt | rah gave me her veivet mantle year before last: it’ was worn shiny, but whenshe died I could cut it up, and I'did. I got sleeves and collar and vest out of it, so my cash quite stylish, but it is pretty thin. While I | was cutting and contriving and thinking ov my own clothes and the missionary childre flannels, Mrs. Arkwright, who hud gone out of | the room a few minutes before, came back with a large bundle in her arms. “I want to consult you about something, m dear,” she said, in her kindest way. know we were going tosend Mr. Peters a suit of clothes; now, here isa suit of the colone! that is nearly new. He sent to his New Yo: tailor to make him a good thick suit of mixed goods as quick as possible, for he was going on Mr. Alexander's yacht for'a week's sail, and he trusted Jacobs to choose the cloth, for there was euch haste. When it came you ought to | have seen the colonel’s face! He had to wear | it, but he never will again. He has made it over to me to give away. Now, how do you | think it would do for our barrel? It is very good cloth. So it was. Colonel Arkwright was 60 rich he did not need to wear common or cheap things. But goodness! the ground of the stuif was dark gray and it was closely plaided with a | hair-line ‘stripe, bright scarlet one way and | white the other. No wonder the colonel never put it on in Foxeroft! | “But, Mrs. Arkwright,” I said, “you were | at the last Good will’ meeting, and so you | did not hear Mrs. Peters’ letter." Miss Black wrote out for measures for the minister's clothes, and it is well she did, for it seems he’s | alarge’ man—tall and stout. Now, Col. Ark- ‘wright is just about my husband's vize.” AsTasaid that an idea came into my head | just as quick as a flash. “That in too bad, thoughtfully. ; T put my idea aside for a minute and said, “I should think they would sell at a second-hand store.” Mra. Arkwright laughed. “The colonel would not hear of that. No; I must wait till somebody needs them.” Then my idea got the better of me. “Why, T said, very slowly, “if you don't know of any one I think I know of a poor man who would be very glad of them. “Who is he?” she said. | “Wall, Idon't think Tecan tell you, because he is a very respectable person, and ‘it would shock him’to wear clothes given him in char- | ity. But I know his wife, and I think she could get him to wear them if I gave them to | her. ‘They could be dyed, you know.” | Was that a lie? Of conrse you know I meant Fred, but she never thought of it. Oh. how I did wish afterward I had told her ali | about it.” ~ “It’s no matter at all,” she said. “I J you. j said Mrs. Arkwright, | really ought not to have a Tt was only a passing impulse. Do take them, de: Mrs. Parker, to the poor fellow’s wife. I am fo sorry, for people who are poor and proud. I'll send them round to your house This evening. I do hope she'll have them dyed, for then the colonel will never see them agai I tell him he is just like a turkey—that red ex- rates him 80.” this time I was breathless. Witt had I done? Could Tever make Fred wear them if they were dyed? Woolen goods are so apt to inge all up in the hot dye and be of no good. But could not say now that I wanted them for Fred, and I knew he would never put them on if he knew where they came from. i just sai “Thank you,” and when I got through I we: straight home. I would not stay to tea, thous! Mrs. Arkwright asked me to. I must be at} home when the bundle came, and when Fred told me had got two extra hours’ work at the | bank that evening I was really glad, for he would not see that bundle and ask about it. It came just after he went, and. I put it into the | spare-room closet and sat down to think. At lust I seemed to see a way out of part of my | trouble. Ilocked myself into my room after breakfast next day, when all my other work was done, and, getting out my water-color box, I sat down to renovate those ciothes. I took out the cake of Indian ink and with my finest brush I began to make that scarlet stripe black. the most unending piece of work. I began to think the clothes were not worth it: but I had begun, I must finish. I worked three days over them, cerefully blackening even the wide seams inside, lest & thread of the scarlet might show, and really no one would have known them for the same clothes. Then I E if é g Hi ! ii ef a EE if r & E & | tole am ‘Nonsense’ Whoever that «uit was made for could afford to have adozen. Why, I tell vou it ix Jacob's work! And what acloth! It doos tempt me, I must say. And coming from N York, nobody here would know it. How much n? sha’n’t tell you, sir, You go and scorn my Poor tricks to make yon look nice. Tean send the suit back tomorrow was ii to Mrs. Arkwright’s, ‘©, you sban’t, young woman, Til «ink my idering how low my pocket is; and T ome decent clothes, I know. Tell me, Nan. what di No more th ." T seid, with a look of could pat on. you sell them to me?” then teached for his hes and extracted therefrom a new There! 1 meant to make a deposit of tin your savings bank on the shelf, but that must wait a little.” dressed, and put on the new | fotrly well, He wi Arkwright; and they were somewhat loose, but he liked an easy fit, did look £0 nics Poor fellow Uke to go shat nd ike had been 80 “I do feel_more respectable now,” he admit fed. #s he put on hie iast necktie and surveyed himself in the glass. “ But this was not the en Grandtr; Brooks used to say: “The? ‘Wg, Soars such full crops as a lie tree.” +0. too. About afortuight after Fred came homo looking very wretched. He said nothing, Lut after tea I sat down on his knee and coaxed it out of him. “Well, Nan, if you must know, it is all this plaguy suit, You remember that Keith, our teller, had a splendid offer to go out to a bank in Montana as cashier. He made up his mind yesterday toaccept it and, of course, as Lam hext under him the place would naturally fall to me. Iwas so pleased, for then, dear, vou could have a girl and not work yourself toa skeleton any more. “I'm not a skeleton,” I said, fiercely. see my arm: He smiled such a Greary little smile. you won't have the girl, Nan, not Yourself all you can. This morning T was in the vault sorting some papers and Col. Ark- wright came in. I got out in order to cash his check, and I observed he looked at me very hi Jothes and all; then Carter came in and 1 could go home to dinner. 1 into the lavatory to wash my hands, the wi was open, and the door bie in. Now there is a water pi into the directors’ room into the sink, but this morning it had been removed to be renewed, and left a hole through the wall. I did not mean to listen, but I Tcould not help it very well. Col. Arkwright had gone in to see the president, and was say “Just Yes: I suppose we should have promoted Parker, of course, when Keith leaves bat I'm not quite sure of him. He seems to be a little ravagant, and that is the beginning of all evils in a bank clerk. I know he has had sick- ;, but for all that here be is By s good a suit as I wear I can't be mistaken in Jacob's cut nor Perhaps you had better make some further inguiries tomorrow,” suid President Holt, in his calm voice. “The’ directors do not meet till Thursday. I think itis well to be absolutely cer- tain about such thi “*} will! I will! - down my hat and went out. I was mighty glad I hud told you I would not come home to dinner, little woman. I felt quite upset. I did not ‘get any lunch. I just walked and walked till I had to go back. “ You see, Tean't tell him I overheard him, so I can't explain about the clothes. I own iam dreadfully dis appointed, bat T suppose it can't be helped. 1 only hoy but I a won't be pleasant. I cannot find any words to say how I felt; | the “lie tree” was putting out its ¢ 1 just put my head on Fred's shi co! cd. ‘oor little girl! You shouldn't have made me confess, Nanny. Yet, after all, i you should know. Mother always eaid that se- d my own name, and | TALKS WITH THE DocTOR. More About Neuralgia and Other Common Diseases of Mankind. From the New York World, Facial nenraizia tic doaloureux) affects the | great nerve of sensation of the face (known as the fifth nerve), and is one of the most severe | and common forms of neuralgia that we mect end not with. This fifth norve in a complicated affair encrally understood. trunk of it commences inside of the! eraninm and councets with the brain just back of the The main car; as it reaches the face it branches out into three divisions one branch supplying sense- tion and | the mi per jaw, while th Almost any part of the the nerves of ti | branches of thi The causes of m the canstrn: te. ement to the forehead and eye. idle branch goes to the check and uy wer takes in the lower jaw . then, may be at fected with neuralgia of the fifth teeth are face ction of the these m ald mention de tional disarrangemen nenralgia than m rentions dened to cold and ae changes. A w ¥ talk, re weather and n and almost stably because . they are nm conditi Women and children are more eubject to tem, too, ix expecially favorable to an attacl this disease. need hardly may anything about the symp- toms of neuralgia. T recognize the gradual! face and teeth. Often touthache and in the by and then of all pain t | At first the attacks ma: ually they increase in there may be an entn the intervals between stant soreness ai eyes. w attacks being and well defined. It diseane readil happily rare (wh incurable. Then, in epileptic att: nthe cau: » many of us know Ie ine nwe thi right one. and in the merely a ferent tooth may be extracted getting th it may istinet puroxyems come, 1s is perhaps the worst. y be weeks apart, frequency Grad- Sometimes freedom from pain in the attacks, b Vac’ gration is, there © forms in, protracted Tfind T have neglected & | isa phase of neuraly | poison in the syste riodie an by taking t usually of tho Often the skin is red and Nenralgia may be weveral years in develop- ly more severe re, a chronic are cured if taken in time there mre cases, of the disease is it the trunk of the nerve), which, 1 think, are full oF three hours before the time of their arriv Then, again, founded with rheumat treatment of it ax ne: avail. It is well to k likely to have inhe iding upon One o! uralgia must not be con- or in that case our we of no m, waralgin wally our patient is natism before de- g from nervous or me nor from constipation of the bowels wo “I stole out of the door softly then, took | must attend to these matters at once. the appetit | Tone up dh | tiring early and avoid Asa tonic medi Blood is poor and ¢ | tion which is indi less lips, cold feet an faith in iron. yur times by tonies, exercise system, if ing ne, expecially ulation when weak (a ex ted by pale cheeks, color- nd han For men and he will not distrust me any more; | recommend the tincture of chi 1 be watched now all the time. That | commouly known as tineture of irc glass of water, and take day for three da} ye, and then agai . Keep on t ma feel a pain headache ).in which portion to age.) his way for neve in the for nke t is best (This dose is for adults; give children crets between man and wife were practical |" Many women cannot take iron in thy on account of its cansing divorces, and I think #0 too.” ‘Oh, how my heart sank! 1 But take courage, little wife,” hhe went on. “Ihave done nothing wrong and the thing is bound to come right in due time.” If could have said as much for myself! But I tried to seem brave and laughed a little at some poor joke he made; and then I had to go into the Kitcher and set some raised biscuit for breakfast. T thought and thought all the while I mixed and kneaded them of anything but what I was doing. I knew well what I onght to do, but I did not want todo it. Itwasno use. | knew I must: but what with anger at myself and cowardice and absolute terror of telling her I had little sleep, and the biscuit were knexded | down very early that next morning and were lighter than usual in consequence. I remem- ber every little thing so well that happened then. I thought Fred never ate his breakfast so fast and the dishes seemed to get them- selves washed in no time. It was Il o'clock before I knew it and now I mus: go. I put on my things and went. Mrs. Ark- ES ovis at home and just as pleasant as ever. I said, in a very trembly voice, “Can I sce you alone for a few minutes, Mrs. Ark- | inly, my dear. Come up into the li- : the colonel is not in and no one will in- terrapt us.” So we went and sat down on the lounge and I began, Ob, how I choked at first, and pulled at my bonnet, and looked every” where! but at last I did it. i had to say a little in my heart before I could. Then I told pont how ill I war, and how and how we got Behindhand, though y own work and mended up Fred's longas they would bear mending and too, and I could hear her breath. as if she tried not to speak, en I told ber what I did to the clothes, baby dicc Idid do n clothes jand what Fred suid, and then what he heard “And ob, dear Mrs. Ark- wright, won't you, won't you’ please tell the colonel they were not new clothes, and Fred is all right, and——* Then, I could not help it, I had to cry. But she was crying, too, with both her arms around me. “You dear, brave little woman, you make my she said. “I will make it right for you, of course; but, dear, I shall have to tell the colonel all about it to explain.” “Oh yes, I want you to. I don't want any more liés or deceivings. I've had too much. I should have told Fred all about it this morn- ing, only I knew he'd feel so sorry for me and think about it all day.” So Mrs, Arkwright kissed me and comforted me and dida’t give mo any advice. I suppose she saw [had got my lesson by heart. Well, I did tell Fred: it was easier to tell him, for’ it was between daylight and dark and he couldn't see mocry, and he had both his arms round me. But he did choke when he tried to say something. and only got out, “My precious littie wife Next day there was a directors’ meeting and Fred was made teller. Col. Arkwright was the first to teli him and shake hands. ‘Then Fred said he looked at him with such a funny wink of his eye and said: By Japiter, Parker, tailor is almost up to Jacobs, and your wife isalittle brick. You're a lucky fellow.” I don’t think it was atall nice for him to say that, but he isn't as refined as Mrs. Ark- wright. Col. Arkwright say. up” for “weary” or “tired out” and “seedy” for “ailing”—these are fair of the British slang—-not of the thieves’ slang, but of the slang ie E is alfitel reparation is « the tincture musi be longer, perbs and it is the ’ tome and blood-enrsch | In very sev mediate Fe dermic injections of form and other draze, must therefore be adinu Bu there is no + results nurse of takil ps two or three m tau . -s of neuralgia, for hi morp hai all dangere A only by a t im canes not , but an lent Make a flan; previously beer ply it to the face he relief is almost al fal sleep is induced. i fll it wi steepe: as the omdi- and mtisfactory im- ual te hypo= ia, chloro- and which om= re one, ‘8 immediate and rest= | Bat tocome back to the beginning of this | talk, what I especially desire is to teach you how not to have t general tone of th and wet feet; of unavoidable ex, s00n anid as thore: T have inid down in la Jess vou have inhe this malady there ever having Th system. ok after the teeth, a are und. ted a very strc really no ‘reason for your neuralgia. Keep din th ¥ as powsible by. th week's “talk,” Avoid exposure mischief at ng taint of drain of lactation upon the system, and of course the remedy is direc Uy Make Every nursing mothe ally nourishing food. up as far as possible indicated. for thi 4 whould have Asa ton | ix better than some form of phosphi lows’ or MeArthar'e syrup of hy lent. Another ent sion. You er, in buying ophonp! thing whic t is cod liver oil, either anat be too particular, how: liver oil, to ge & batt nor drain. ption= ° food nothing and get the genuine ar- Any quantity are of no medi j sold eve as you | must de; | who sells it to yeu. al as “pure cod liver n hardly test the oil you buy you druggist Tt seems to me that of f seal and other oils, which value, are bottled and and jall contemptible frauds this ix one of :the | meanest. Once in a w officers and of wheat flour or Annocent substance, b while genuine cod live | far discovered. le we hear of some spasm of ¢ adulteration act is on some smail grocer who has sold | baking powder which contained an admixturs ome other yy 3 it would seom 7 oil is rich is seal oil might be sold for cod liver oil with impunity, notwithstanding the fact that ax a medicine seal oil is of no more value than water, except to induce biliouxness and fevers, jodine aud as a nutritious food stands above every