Evening Star Newspaper, February 21, 1891, Page 14

14 THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1891—SIXTEEN PAGES. ~ =e S —H TANGLEBANE. ARTISTIC AND COZY. “Tanglebank” The Suburban Resi- dence of Mr. Parker Mann. OVERLOOKING ROCK CREEK. A Home That if Much Admired—Quaint in Design sod Construction—Furniture and Library of Charles 0’Counor — Diamond Paned aad Latticed Windows. One of the most interesting features con- nected with the growth of Washington in re- cent yoars is the remarkable way in which the city bas spread out toward the northwest, over the heights that once seemed such a natural boundary for the city, and down into the valley of Rock creek and beyond, so that now it would be & difficult matter indeed to say how far it should go and no farther. Some of the most artistic houses are to be found in this section, and the very fact of the abundance of room that was tobe had has given a freedom of strig to the architecture and « sort of suburban tone to all the residences that is decidedly pleasing. One of the most attractive houses in this part of the city and one that haa received as favorable attention as any is “Tangle- bank.” the home of Mr. and Mrs. Parker Mann. Located at almost the western end of Kal- orama avenue it is on the very crest of the hill that commands such a magnificent view of the Rock Creek valley and the hills beyond. It would be hard to imagine a more delightful location at any time of year, for while to all intents and purposes it is in the countr: is but asbort distance from the hex city, m section of the city'sanatomy that is rap- idly moving out in that direction. The house itself is in tion. ceping with its loca- Architects, they say, repeat their own 1 sometimes other peoples’, bat Tan- is original. From foundation 10 | the upper story of this building is fitted up weather vane it is the creation of its artist | and used by Mi. Mann asa studio. It isa most owner, who has succeeded in constructing | trtistic and delightful great room, hoi is artistic and quaint as well asemi-| With a high ceiling and taftere of @ ly comfortable snd homelik One's first 2 approaching the house is that it is low and, ina way, rambling. The tirst story is of and the woodwork around it is all of shade of green, while the second story is and finished in the same pleasing shade of red as the first. The steep pitch of f in places and a number of piazzas und | which has furnished the theme for a great deal peeping out in various places | of Mr. Mann's most pleasing work. Curios and » bud eny idea of monotony t the | artistic brie-a-brac of all sorts fill the room, y is very wide, and, like the whole is really larger than it se as at . for the ceilings here, as well as | , and the general effec oration is dark. Al | st floor, with the excep- tion of the main staircase, is painted a dead Diack. ‘The mantels, the door frames, the win- dow frames and seats are all of this somber hue, but the effect is decide. eral ton looks 0: are no iy pleasing. The g in @ sense, the house ‘There is nothing glaring and there ing effectaanywhere. Almost all of the furniture in the lower part of the honse is very old, a large part of it having been used for certsinly more than » half century by Mr. ‘les O Connor, the great lawyer. and acurious fact con- g of the house is that was designed with reference of pictures. In the hallway larger rooms the windows are a # all cross lights are the windows are on both door. The ceiling is of rk with cross beam: in the same ms to run thro: To the leftof the entrence is a handsome k mantelpicce surrounding a brick and eplace and surmounted by a fine Mr. O'Connor. The haac runs up trom the center of ada landing or gall A PEEP INTO THE PARLOR. The main parlor ison the rigit. Here the prevailing tone is copper color and the floor is covered with velvet Alling of that solid color With a number of choice ori-ntal rngs scattered sround in « very effective wa: Biz comforta- ble divans and equally invi placed in an artistically hip every available spot, and the old Pr furniture has long «1 ent newness thet it m ¥ the long, low Latticed windor e room runs a big window seat buil gilea up with rugs and pillows. On the east is a rway that opens upon a wide piaz delightfal retrest on summer even: mantelpiece is of simple b cotta tiling around tb It is from the wall: Would derive the a a:lable space iscovered w:th choice paintings. ‘There is @ gem by Lerolle, whose paintings The i ck with « terra- freplace. the have gained such prominence in the Sen | lection. There Audukiewie a one by the well-known Spanish chez Perrier. Chase, Mra. Jones, Delar Max W |. A. t examples fe ' alls at Tanglebank. All one side of the dining room, which is in the rear of the parlor, is taken up with latticed windows looking off toward the east | and flooding the room with light. On the large | mabogany sideboard are ranged « nunjber of | beautiful specimens of china and cut glass, of | which Mrs. has fine collection, much | of it being very old and rare. The floor is carpeted in red and the furniture is of the mame peculiar shade that ix to be seen in eo many places throughout the house. AN ARTISTIC # aX. Across the hall from the parlor is a pretty little octagonal music room and sitting room | that is as pleasant a place as one could well | imagine. Hore is the grand piano and « bun- | of their work Vk. amounts of firewood. The room is lighted by an immense north window, giving a splendid Whose glory is Among the ages’ geaerals looms he, A Wellesley in the armies of the free. A Koman of old Rome, a Greek of Greece, Commbta will mourn the patriot dead The flag he loved droops sadly at the mast ‘The Christian general and gentlema.. A gallant son of war, suberh, sublime, Among the nation’s foremost rank stands he, A Frederick in the forces of the free. about civility being shown to the public. with perhaps one exception, known to most railway men: but even that company has now improved in this respect, as well as in many otherz. A little knicknacks and_ pre! things that goa long way toward making pleasant and attractive. The octag large room e library in the rear is not s more than 3,000 books are ‘THE STAIRWAY. crowded around on the wall in plain black shelves that have neither curtains nor glass doors to bother the seeker after book lore. The spirit of the room is well given in a couplet by Frank Dempster Sherman, that is painted above the fireplace: as a “Give me the room ¥! Indeluated ton boon There is not a bare spot on the walls any- where, and a person sitting in the room is com- pletely surrounded by books. Even the half dozen windows are placed high and ina row between the top of the shelves and_ the ceiling. The library is rather miscellaneous in charac ter, though strongest, perhaps, in books of reference. There are a number of curious and valuable works in the collection, most of which belonged to the late Charles O'Connor. One of them, the “Maximes of Reason,” Edmond Wingate, 1648, bears upon the title page the auto- graph of Aaron Burr, and under itthnt of Mr. O'Connor. Another large volume is filled with a collection of autographs of most of th inent men this count autographs and tremely rare and it is quite likely that this col- lection will sooner or later find tte way into the National Museum. A CORNER IN THE STUDIO. On the sloping hillside in the rear of the house and connected with it by a covered assageway is alarge building, constructed Tince fn harmony with the hotse and making « sort of background for it. The greater part of dull red, like all the rest of the wood work, with easels and sketches and finished paintings scat- tered around in profusion and a big brick fire- place capable of consuming almost unlimited view up the valley of Rock creek, the scenery of and altogether it comes as near being an ideal studioas any artist could well ask for. —_— Written for The Evening Star. General Sherman. A valiant son of Mars, great and sublime, t spanned by his own time, A Moltke, too, in majesty and might, A Norman of the Normans, princely knight; Astanch and stu Whose sword commanded hosts of warring men. ay soldier-citizen Faithful was he to freedom and to right, Yet first to welcome from fraternal Ngtt; A champion in battle, and in peace Honor to Sherman, courtly, brave and grand, ‘Whose fame shall blossom through the fatherland! All pwans to his glory, and a tear Upon & dauntless hero's martial bier! And weave a chaple. for his warrior head; hite loyal svidier-souls, in deep distress, Bowed down beside his grave, his memory bless. For one whose igi career was nobly pagseds ils country throngh the centuries will scam With nature neither gauged by race nor cllme, DAVID GRAUAM ADEE. — Rallread Incivill From Chambers’ Journs All railway companies are very partioular bald-headed director of this company was tavel- ing with some strangers, and at one of the tations one of them asked the name of the A porter pointed to the name board, arking: “Can't you read?” The director was somewhat vexed, butsaid nothing. At the next station another of the passengers asked changed there for A——. “Sit still and is ain't a junction,” the porter who was much gur- prised at the incivility of the porters, told the Strangers who he was, expressed regret that they had been so epgken to. “I will see, however,” he said, “if they will speak in the sawe way to me.” At the next station he put his head out of the window, but could get no one’s attention till the train was moving off, n @ porter came up and ep your bald head im, old duffer, or you'll ” He fumed ‘with rage, but the strangers seemed to enjoy his defeat. ‘There was trouble at those three stations the and three faces were seen no more cee S| waihtah, what is this | | “That, sir? Macaroni au Chappi Macawoni au Chappie? Ah—ah— fiacaroni and calves’ brains, sir.’ garner ose th what's that, “Waiter. Among the first acta today of Principal Witherspoon of the High School was to issue awa A rebellious sho persisted in working his jaws aguinst such cases made and provided was subjected to ® process which caused him to drop kis quid as though it had been @ cayenne lozenge. I Da From the Indianapolis Journal. Mrs. Figg Tommy! That is no way for you to talk. Even if your little y- mete is wrong in what he says, you should net call him « liar.” 4 ‘Tommy—Why not, ma? I can lick him easy enough, an’ he k it. QUIxA Lanocus possesses In the Bi the restorative and” tavigora chona (peruvian bar medicine for giving tone to the Xe guccveds compictely in removing § 3 ess, WastiDg Jliseases, eXCessive inDess and dis oss at ght of food; 1b is the best remedy for fever ague. He Finds Fault With America Wher- ever He Goes. OUR DEFENSELESS COASTS. New York atthe Mercy of Two or Three Chi- nese Iron Clads—Buffalo as It Appeared to the Foreigner—Inland Ports and = Toronto Gunboat—Why England Will Not Fight Us. ‘Written for The Evening Star. (Copyrighted. ‘UST SUPPOSE THAT AMERICA WERE twenty days distant from England. Then a man could study its cystoms with undivided soul; but being so very near next door he goes about the land with one eye on the smoke of the flesh pots of the old country across the seas, while with the other he squints biliously and prejudicially at the alien. Ican lay my hand upon my sacred heart and affirm that up to today I have never taken three consecutive trips by rail without being delayed by an accident, That it was an accident to sn- other train makes no difference. My own turn may come next. A few miles from peaceful, pleasure-loving Lakewood they bad managed to upset an express goods train to the detriment of the flimsy perthanent way; and thus the train which ehould have left at three departed atseven im the evening. I wasnot angry. I was scarcely even interested. When an Amer- ican train starts on time I begin to anticipate disaster—a visitation for such good luck, you understand. Buffalo isa large village of # quarter ofa million inhabitants situated on the seashore, which is falsely called Lake Erie. It is.» peace ful place and more like an English county town than most of its friends. Once clear of the main business streets you lanneh upon miles and miles of asphalted roads running between cottages and cut-stone residences of those who have money and All the castern cities own this fringe of elegance, but except in Chi- cago nowhere is the fringe deeper or more heavily widened than in Buffalo. WHY THE AMERICAN WON'T VOTE. ‘The American will go toa bad place because he cannot #peak English and is proud of i knows how to make a home for himself and his mate; knows how to keep the grass green in front of his veranda and how to fullest use the mechan- ism of life—hot water, gas, good bell ropes, telephones, &c. His shops sell him delightful household’ fitments at very moderate rates, and he is encompasted with all manner of labor saving appliances. This does not prevent his wife and his daughter working themeel: death over household drudgery, but the int tion is good. When you have seen the outsides of a few hundred thousand of these homes and the in- sides of afew score, you begin to understand why the American (the respectable one) does not take a deep interest in what they call “‘poli- tics,” and why he is #0 vaguely and generally proud of the country that enables him to be so comfortable. How can the owner of a dainty chalet, with smoked oak furniture, imitation Venetian tapestry curtains, hot and cold water laid on, a bed of geraniums and hollyhocks, a baby crawling down the veranda and a self- acting twirly-whirly hose gently hissing over the grass in the balmy dusk of an August even- ing—how can such a man despair of the repub- lie’ or descend into the streets on voting days and mix cheerfully with “the boys?” No, it is the stranger—the homeless jackal of @ stranger—whose interest in the country is limited to his hotel bill and a railway ticket, that can run from Dan to Beersheba crying “all is barren!” Every good American wants a home—a pretty house and a little piece of land of his very own, and every other good American seems to get it. AMERICA'S YOUTHFUL MARRIAGES. It was when my gigantic intellect was grap- pling with this question that I confirmed a dis- covery half made in the west. The natives of most classes marry young—absurdly young. One of my informfnts—not the twenty-two- year-old husband I met on Lake Chautauqua— Said that from twenty to twenty-four was about the usual time for this folly. And when Iaeked whether the practice was Confined to the con- stitutionally improvident classes,he said, “No,” very quickly. He said it was a general custom and nobody saw anything wrong with it. “I guess, perhaps, very early marriage me account for 2 good deal of the divorce,” said Le, retlectively. Whereat I was silent. ' Their arriages and their divorces only concern these ‘and neither [ traveling nor you who me after have any right to make rude about them. Only—only coming froin sland where & man begins to lightly turn to thoughts of love not before he is 30, f own that playing at housekeeping before that age rather surprised me. Qut in the west, though, they marry boys and girls {roi sixteen upward, and [ have met more than one bride of fifteen— husband aged twenty. ‘When man and woman are agreed what can the Kazi do; From those peaceful homes and the envy they inspire (two trunks and a walking stick and a bit of pine forest in British Columbia are not satisfactory any way you look at them) I turned me to the lake front of Buffalo, where the steamers bellow to the grain clevators and the locomotives yell to the coal shutes and the canal barges jostle the lumber raft half a mile akes across the water in tow of a nd sky and sea alike are In the old days before the railway ran into the city all the business quarters fringed the lake shore, where the trafiic was largest. Today the business quarters haye gone up town to meet the railroad; the lake trattic still exists, but you shall finda narrow belt of red brick iesolation, broken windows, gup-toothed doors and streets where the grass grows between the crowded wharves and the bustling city. To the lake front comes wheat from Chicago, lumber, coal and ore und a large trade in cheap excur- sionists. BUFFALO'S WHEAT ELEVATORS. It was my felicity to catch a grain steamer and anglevator emptying that same steamer. The steamer might have been two thousand tons burden. She was laden with wheat in from stem to stern thirteen feet deep lay the clean red wheat. There was no twenty-five per cent dirt admixture about it at all. It was wheat, fit for the grindstones as it lay. Thoy maneuvered the forehatch of that steamer di- rectly under an elevator—a house of redtin a hundred and fifty feet high. Then they let down into that fore hatch a trunk asif it had been the trunk of an elephant, but stiff because it was a pipe of iron-clumped wood. And the trunk had a steel shod nose to it and contained an cudless chain of steel buckets. ‘Then the captain swore, raising his eyes to heaven, and a gruff voice anawered him from the place he swore at, and certain machinery, also in the firmament, began to clack and the glittering steel shod nose of that trunk bur- rowed into the wheat and the wheat quivered and sunk upon the instant as water sinks when the sipbon sucks, because the steel buckets within the trunk were flying upon their endless Found carrying away each its xppointed morsel of wheat. ’ fhe elevator wass Persian well wheel—a wheel squashed out thin and cased in a pipe; » wheel driven not by buliocks, but by much horse power, licking up the grain at the rate of thousands of bushels the hour. And the wheat sank into the forehatch while a man looked— sauk till the brown timbers of the bulkbeads showed bare and men leaped down through clouds of golden dust and shoveled the wheat | furiously around the nose of the trunk and got Asteam shovel of glittering steel and made that shovel also till there remained of the grain uot more “tan w horse leaves in the fold of his nose bag. In this manner do they handle wheat at Buf- falo. On one side of the elevator is the steamer, ou the other the railway track, and the wheat ix loaded into the cars in bulk. Wah, wah! God is great and Ido not think He ever in- tended Gar Sahai or Luckman Narain to eup- ply England with her wheat. India can cut in hot without profit to herself when her harvest is good and the Amorican yield poor, but this very big country can upon the’ average supply the earth with all the beef and bread that is required. FREE TRADE IN SPEECH. A man ina train said to me: “We kin feed all the earth jest as easily as we kin whip all the earth.” Now the second state- ment is as false as the first is true. One of these days the respectable republic will find “Unfortunately we, the English, wit! be Unfortunately we, : never the to teach her; because she is a char- libertine allowed do an: ehe likes, from dema: %2| KIPLING STILL SNARLS|** E knows that, and no one bet- iverrbody NEW TORK CITY's PERILS. Yet there are other powers who are not “‘ohai band” (of the brotherhood)—China, for in- stance. Try to believe an irresponsible writer when he assares rou that Chinn's fleet today, if properly manned, could waft the entire Ameri- can navy out of the water and into the blue. The big, fat republic that is afraid of nothing Reppened to mits hor adraid ws as wapeotocted to ie her as un} asi. jellyfish, ‘Not internally, of course—it would be madness for any power to throw men into America; they would die—but as far as regards coast defense. From five miles out at sea (Ihave seen a test of her “fortified” ports) a ship of the power of H.BLS. Collingwood (they haven't run her on # rock yet?) would wipe out any or every town from San Francisco to Long eh; and three first-class ironclads would account for New York, Bartholdi’s statue and all. Reffect on this. "Twould be “Pay up or go up" round the entire coast of the United States. ‘0 this furiously answers the patriotic Ameri- can: je should not pay. We should invent a columbiad in Pittsburg or—or anywhere else and blow sny outsider into h——\.” They might invent. They might lay waste their cities and retire inland, for they can subsist en- tirely on their own produce. Meantime, in a war wagtd the only way it could be waged by an unscrupulous power, their coast cities an their dockyards would’ be ashes. They could construct their navy inland if they liked, but you could never bring aahip down tothe water- ‘ways, as they atand now. TROOPS PENNED IX. They could not, with an ordinary water Patrol, dispatch one regiment of men six miles cross the seas. There would be about five million excessively angry, armed men, pent up within American limits. ‘These men would re- quire ships to get themselves afloat. The coun- try has no such ships and until the ships were built New York need not be allowed a single wheeled carriage within her limite. Behold now the glorious condition of this republic which has no fear. There is ransom and loot past the counting of man. on -her sea- board slone—plunder that would enrich « nation—and she ha» neither a navy nor half » dozen first-class ports to guard the whole. No man catches a snake by the tail, because the creature will sting; but you can build » fire around a snake that will make it equi The country is supposed to be bnilding » navy now. When the ships are completed her alliance will be worth baving—if the alliance of any republic can be relied upon. For the next three years she canbe hurt and badl; hurt. Pity if is that she is of our own bi looking at the matter from a Pindarris point of view. Dog cannot eat dog. OUR LAKE PORTS DOOMED. These sinful reflections were prompted by the sight of the beautifully unprotected con- dition of Buffalo—a city that could be made to Pay up $5,000,000 without feeling it. There are her companies of infantry in a sort of port there. A gunboat brought over in piecos from Niagara could get the money and get away .bo- fore she could be caught, while an: unarmored gunboat guarding Toronto could .ravage the towns on the lakes. When one heaps:#0 touch of the nation that ean whip the earth‘it «is, to say the least of it, surprising to find her 60 temptingly spankable. ‘The average American citizen seems to bave @ notion that any power engaged in strife with the Star Spangled Banner will disembark men from flat-bottomed boats on s convenient beach for the purpose of being shot down by local militia. “In his own simple phraseology: “Not by a darned sight. No, sir.” Ransom at long range will be about the size of it—cash or crash. Let us revisit calmer scenes. PROVINCIAL SOCIETY'S DIVERSIONS. In the heart of Buffalo there stands a mag- nificent building which the population do in- nocently style a inusic hall. Everybody comes here of evenings to sit round littipdalles and listen toa first-class orchestra. 1 5 something like the Gaiety Thoater :mt:di enlarged twenty times. The “Light Brigade" of Buffalo occupy the boxes and th , ae itwas at Simla in the days of old,” and the ers sit in the parquet. Here I went with a \d—poor or boor is the man who cannot riend for a season in Americn—and jown the really smart folk of the city. Igrieve to say I laughed, because when an American wishes to be correct he sets him- self to imitate the Englishman. ‘This he docs Filely and earns not only the contempt of his brethren but the amused scorn of the Briton. THE BIDICULOUS ANGLOMANIAC. Isaw one man who was pointed out to me as being the glass of fashion hereabouts. He was aggressively English in his get up. From oye- glase to trouser em the illusion was perfect, jut—he wore with evening dress buttoned boots with brown cloth tops! Not till I wandered about this land did I understand why the comic papersbelabor the Anglomaniac. Certain young men of the more idiotic sort launch into dog carts and raiment of English cut, and here in Buffalo they play polo at four in the afternoon. I saw three vouths come down to the polo ground faultlessly attired for the game and mounted on their best ponies. Expecting a game I lingered; but I was mistaken. ‘These three shining ones with the very new yellow hide boots and the red silk sashes had assembled themselves for the purpose of knocking the ball about. They smote with great solemnity up and down the grounds while theclitleboys looked on. When they trotted, few reams) earyatie reps, seldom, they rose and sank in with a conscientionsness that cried out, “riding school!” from afar. Other young men in the park were riding after the English manner, in neatly cut riding trouscrs and light saddles. Fate in derision had made each youth bedizen his animal with acheckered enameled leather brow band visi- ble half a mile away. A black and white check- ered brow band. They can’t do it, any more than an Englishman by taking cold can add that indescribable nasal twang to his orchestra. ARGUMENTS FOR PROHIBITION, The other sight of the evening was a horror. The little tragedy played itself out at a neigh- boring table where two very young men and two very young women were sitting, » It did not strike me till far into the evenipgthat the pimply young reprobates were smaking: sho girls drunk. ey gave them red ie wad then white, and the voices rose slightly with the maiden cheeks’ flushes. I watched; wishin to slay, and the youths drank till their speech, thickened and theit eyeballs grew watery. It was sickening to see, because I knew what was going to happen. My friond eyed the group and said: laybe they're children of respectable peo- ple. Ihardly think, though, they'd be allowed out without any better escort than these boys. And yet the place isa place where every one comes, us you see. They may be little im- moralities—in which case they wouldn't be #0 hopelessly overcome with two glasses of wine. ‘They may be"-— Whatever they were they got indubitably drunk—there in that lovely Teil, surrounded by the best of Buffalo society. ‘One could do nothing except invoke the judgment of heaven ‘on the two boys, themselves half sick with liquor. At theglose of the juicter maiden laughed vacantly aud protested rhe couldn't a her fect. | ‘The four linked arms, and ering, flickered out into the street—drank, gentlemen and ladies, as Davy's ine, drunk as lords! They disappear down a avenue, but I could hear their Jaughter long after they were out of sight. SAVE THE CHILDRES. And they were all four children of sixteen and seventeen. Then, recanting previous opinions, I became a prohibitionist. Better it iy that a man should go without his beer in public places and content himself with swear- ing at the narrow-mindedness of the majority; better it is to poison the inside with very vile temperance drinks and to buy lager _furtively t buck doors than io bring temptation to the of the young fools such as the four I hd seen. understand now wi preachers rage against drink, I have said: “There is no harm in it taken moderately,” and yet my own demand for beer helpod di- rectly to send those two girls recling down the dark street to—God alone knows what end. If liquor is worth drinking it is worth little trouble to come ai—suck trouble as a Will undergo to compass his own desiros, not good formance the man wat we should let it lig, beforp. the eyes of children, and I have been’ fool in of the country. Him I lured into conversation about his own profession and from him gained much that confirmed me in my views Of the yranny of fife press bere. “Thus: FRONTIER PRESS EXORMITIES. I—But you talk about interviewing people whether they like it or not. Have you no beyond which even your indecent curi- yo ae le—! ven't st ‘em think of teterriowing s wldae two" bout afie hhor husband's death ‘to get her version of his I—I think that is the work of a ghoul. Must the have no mee taking a | hi t_tTransiate ; I don’t understand your pagan itr and coremonien le—I was ordered by the office to describe the flowersand wreaths, and soon, that had ‘been sent tosdesd man's funeral. Well, I went to the house. There was no one to me,so I yanked the tinkler—pulled the 4 drifted into the room where the epee tay. all among the roses and smilax. I ma the fora trate, suming pth ticks | among of uy “e eteon the wreaths and seeing wi aad sent which. lager oberg Lene ery onvtie 3 pon Pert the daughter of the house, just I—You unmitigated brute! * He—Pretty much what I felt myself. “I'm very sorry, "I said, “to intrude on the privac of your grief. Trust me, I shall make as I—But outrage— He—Hold your horses. I'm telling you. Well, she didn’ want me in the house atall and be- tween her sobs fairly waved me away. I half the tributes described, though, and the balance I did partly on the steps when the stiff a came out snd ‘partly in the church. The Preacher gavea sermon. That wasn't my as ment. I skipped about among the floral ibutes while he was talking. Icould have made no excuse if I had gone back to the office and said that a pretty I's sobs bad stopped me obeying ordere. Tind todoit, What do you think of it all? I @lowly)—Do you want to know? He (with his note book ready)—Of course. How do you regard it? I—It makes me regard your interesting nation with the same shuddering curiosity that Ishould bestow on a Papuan cannibal chewing the scalp off his mother sakull. Does that con- vey any idea to your mind? It makes me re- the whole pack of you as heathen—real ‘then—not the sort you send missions to— creatures of another flesh and blood. You ought to have been shot, not dead, but through the stomach for your share in the scandalous | business, and the thing you call your news- Paper ought to have been sacked by the mob | aud the managing proprietor hanged. i He—From which I suppose you have nothing of that kind in your country? Oh, Pioncer, venerable Pioneer, and you not less honest press of India who are’ occasionall, dull but never blackguardly, what could I say’ A mere “‘No," shouted never so loudly, would not have met the neods of the I aid case. no word. The reporter went away and I tooka train for Niagara Falls, which are twenty-two miles dis- tant from this bad town, where girls get drunk of nights and reporters trample on corpses in the drawing rooms of the brave and the free. Rupyanp Kirrixe. IN THE CUMBERLAND RANGE. A Traveler Falls in With Moonshiners and Has to Prove Up. From the Detroit Free Press. As I was to take a short cut over a spur of the Cumberland mountains in northern Tennessee, Thired a colored boy about fifteen years of age to goa part of the distance with me. He had a solemn, serious look and I soon discovered that he was philosopher. Ihad been told that there were moonshiners in the Cumberlands and that the chances were I would bo stopped and sharply investigated. When ready to part from the youth, I asked: “Do you think I'll meet any moonshiners?” “Dat depends, sab.” “On what? “On wheddor somebody hidin’ behind de bresh or rocks doan’ . kin meet. If he ‘un’ will probably meet. It was a hot day in July, but Tasked bim if he thought the weather would hold and he looked at the sky and replied: “Doan’ want to say, sah. If it should hold, you'n wouldn't give me no credit; and if it preva Snow, you'n would cuss me all day. day, ah. Keop to de right arter you de branch. Ifdatdoan’ bring you out, wa,cutn back an’ keep to de left.” I"bad gone about « mile when the trail branched, and, after debating the case, I took the right hand again and went forward, with the comfortable feeling that I had half of a big state at my peraonal disposal to get lost in. The path suddenly ended, and about that time 4 mountaineer stepped from left and confronted me and i “Whar from, stranger? I told him. “What you doin’ hyart” “Traveling.” “Look hyar!" he said, as he came nearer. 's kin either prove up or ye can't.” ‘hat’s so.” ‘ou's either all right or you's cum fussin’.” “Kin ye prove up?" “rn ‘ay ’ “Then walk along.” He walked beside me, or behind me, through thickots and over rough ground t0 a shanty justat the mouth of ravine. There was ian, a woman and a boy of twelve there, and my nose detected the odor of a still. The three people mentioned stood at the door as we came up, and the man queried of my con- ductor: “Who's he'un?” “Gwine to prove up.” I sat down on a rock, and, leavi the boy to watch me, the other threo withdrew a few yards and’ held a consultation. This lasted rout five minutes, and when they returned if@ean who had captured me said e You's either rev- co We'uns is agreed on it. ¢hue or not. You's can “Can any of you read?” “We kin or we can't,” replied the woman, who was smoking plug tobacco in a clay pipe. “Well, perhaps you've heard of —— at Mon- replied the If you are Toe “We monght or we monghtn’ husband of the woman. “Well, here's a line from him, moonshiners you have sold him whisky and know hin to be all right. Here's my card, here are letters addressed to me at Monroe and you can overhaul my knapsack.” ‘They couldn't read a line of writing and put npafobto catch me. After consulting to- gether a bit the woman said: “What did you say he'uns first name was— George or William?” “either one; it's Hens: “Neither one. Come, now, he's a big, fleshy man, wears long whiskers, is bald on top of the head and has front tooth out. His wife isa little ‘cros-eyed woman, and hae two chil- ren.” ‘That settled it, and I was at once given a bite to eat and told to make myself at home. I hrd some tobacco for the man and pins aud needles for the woman.and the present of a harmonica set the boy wild with delight. “S'posin’ you'n had shot he'un down thar!” suggested the woman to my captor hen he'an would hev bin dead, of eo'ee,” he calmly replied. By and by themen went up to attend the still and the woman unrolled the paper of pit to ae row, opened the paper of needies, |, placing the two spools of beside them, she called to the boy: “Danny, cum hyar.” “ans.” “Look in my eyes.” Fifa.” 1H 1 flighty?” “‘Bkeercely, ma‘am.” ‘Well, I'ze either flighty or the richest woman on these yere mountain’, an’ I wish pop would hurry back an’ tell me which Ambition Growing by What It Feeds Upon. From the New York Tribune. Aman told the following recently to illus- trate the folly as well as the wrong of telling big stories. A youug man, whose home is not in New York city and not in any other large city. came to New York a year ago. He has a Great opinion of himself and likes to tell “big tiorles.*, A friend, whose lot it was to enter~ in the young man, ent into a conspiracy With another man to tall the 7 they call | two How Young Ladice Are Taught to Maintain ® Dignified Composure. ‘From the New York Times. At one of the fashionable schools up town a tri-weekly exercise for the boarding pupils is an hour in which repose of manner is taught. The future society leaders are required to enter the small reception room,which the girls fippantly term “Manner Hall,” one by one and pay their respecte to the professor of this rather peculiar branch of their education, who awaits their coming. Notasingle unnecessary muscle of face, body, or limb is brought into play. With | composed features, arms pendant, ono hand ‘usually carrying a fan to keep it gracefully and quietly placed, they glide across the room, sink into « chair, and carry on conversation with their preceptress. Invitations to dance or promenade are accepted, an ice is eaten, intro- juctions take place, callers are received and so | on all under mentor’s watchful eye and al! | with regard only to the absolate tranquility of | 7 behavior. It is remarkable to one who has never had the matter especially emphasized to discover how many unnecessary motions the average young woman indulges in. When she is Watched under this praning process she spares cacily two-thirds of her movements and is'« de- cided gainer thereby. To some this sort of teaching may seem al and fruitless. In int of fact it isneither. The girls show con- inual progress, and though doubtless a natural Tepose of manner is more successful than an | acquired one, the latter is preferable to fusei- ness, surely. At the Metropolitan House the other | evening, in one of the second-tier boxes on the | left-hand side, sat s remarkably beautiful young woman—a blonde of exquisite coloring ‘and with beautifully poised neck and bead. She was the recipient of much attention and it was | @ positive pleasure to watch her serene dignity throughout the evening. Occasionally her fan | was slowiy swayed to and fro before her; oftener | her gloved hands lay easily crossed on her lap, | absolutely quiet. Yet her face wasanimated, and there was nothing inher manner to suggest dullness. A little nearer the stage on the same tier was second young woman in direct contrast. She was a brunette and also a beautiful girl. Her Manner was all jerks and motion. She was | constantly rushing her vinaigrette up to her nose, tonsing her head playfully, picking at her fan, her program, her bouquet, or industri- ously pulling out her handkerchief as if to study its pattern. She was evidently popular, for plenty of persons were coming from and going to her box. and the effect of her uneasy bear- ing, as she received and chatted with one and another, upon the disinterested observer at a distance was a little short of painful. Surely some lessons in tranquil deportment would not have been out of place in this instance. Love Anodyne. Manley H. Pike in Puck. Da. Cusrrp Gaixpen'sante-chamber. Pavuixe sitting at table covered with the usual periodicals and stereoscopic views. Pavurxx (shirering).—What a pokerish place! | Although I know that there isn't « thing to be done to my tectb, I feel as if I were to have | them all pulled without delay—or anesthetics. Groans from within.) Just hear that! Why | 0 dentiats always have all the comic papers? T'm sure I can never look at Cap-and-Belis ain without associating it with lamentations and the odor of carbolic acid. gg DE GuINDER (widtin).—Now, then, my dear Tae, Parrext (seithin).—Yah! © doctor! on’t! De Pavirse (irritably).—What a fuss a man | makes if anything hurts him! But women— | (sighs.) I don’s believe Bertie—Mr. Bangs— buffered half so much asl did when our en- | for all the agonies he | pretended; and by this time he’s probabiy con- | soled himself with that Couria Clara of his— (sighs again)—am p-p-perfectly miser— seg up.) No, I'm not!and he may marry | ‘ousin Clara, if he likes, and be happy with Ler —if he can—— Enter al , clasping both hands to his sien Prechgael ling, aiehoociod,” wnshaven Youxe Max, who assaults door of operating room). ‘Tue Youxa Max.—Doctor! Doctor! Pavurse (agitaled—apart).—It's B-B-Ber - Mr. Bangs! Tex Doctor (within).—Kindly wait a few minutes, sir. I'm about to administer gas— Bentz (eagerly).—Gas! That's just what I wani juice) ctor! ‘THe ‘on.—You must wait, please. eee T've @ most iniernal tooth— ‘Tur Docron.—The patient in the chair has | ™ three of them. Beatiz.—and it's kept me awake all the night. ‘Tax Docton.—The pationt in the chair hasn't slept for a week. nrte.—And I'm almost crazy. Tue Doctor.—The patient in the chair is en- tirely 20. You really must wait. (To PaTiExt.) Now, open your mouth wide and breathe long. Beatie (desperate).—Confound the patient in | the chair—confound the Doctor—curse my tooth—everything be hanged! (Stumbies blindly across room and plumps upon sofa, face dovnn- ward. Pavitxe (much perturbed).—He hasn't seen me! Whata a has! Tm fortunate irl to have escaped marriage with a person who has so little sclf-command—who uses such improper language— ERTIE (Uhrashing about).—Great Scot Pavxixe (‘remulously).—He does suffer terri- bly! Why isn't that Cousin Clara of his here to soothe him?—He certainly needs it. Beatie (‘orithing).—-O-O-0-Oh! 0-0-0-Oh! Paving (half crying).—Poor fellow—poor, oor boy! Ivwon't go near him—it wouldn't proper—no, I won't—no, no! (Darts to sofa.) veg your pardon—sir—but your tooth seems painful— Bente (irithout looking up).—Devil—ex- tremely painful. -AULINE (apart).—Even if he doesn’t know me, that’s no reason why he should kick when Ispeak to him. €Alovd.) Permit me to apply this cologne. Tt may relieve you. Bertie (still face downvward).—Thank you, Madam. Oh, Jupiter! Pavwine (apart).—Madam! Does my voice sound as old as tha: | it and answering thet question. It's lote of fun—when an uncommonly pretty girl is | th, }no;I won't tell you her name—proposed that | library THE GAME OF “WIT.” ‘The Sort of Verses That Can Be Made by Machinery. From the New York Herald. “I tell sou I was with some smart people last night,” said a broker toe friend over the lunch table yesterday. “Some of ‘em are sort of literary, write for the magazines and that hind of thing. and some of ‘em were not, but they were all emart. One girl—awful pretty girl—proposed that we should play something she called ‘Wit.’ I don't care much about games, but that girl was so pretty I was ready to do anything she wanted, and so were the rest of the men, for the women had to come in, too. ‘Did you ever hear of “Wit?” ‘Never mind, never mind about that,” said the broker calmly. “You'll hear of it now. I juite distinguished myself.” And he began ulling papers out of his coat-tail pockets and ing them, still folded, on the table. VERSE MAKING MADE KAsy. “That game of ‘Wit,’ said be, “is making poetry. Yousrouldn’t think you could ever do it, but you can. “It is this way: Every person has « pencil and paper, and each one writes on the top of the paper any noun, then folds it down o that the word can't be seen and passes it to the next. Grand change all around, you see. Then each one writes an adjective, fold, change again; then @ verb: then finally a question. Ever time you write anything your sovereign will suggests. one more change, and you have to write a verse, using all those words in ru ‘ing the thing and sitting neat you. | ‘According to the Simon pure original game you can write anything you like, but the pretty | girl—last night she begged us not to write | sach words as potatocs, or scrub or measles— she said, “Write words that it was possible to be sentimental with, #0 that people could write whatever kind of poetry they wanted to. “It come out pretty soon that she is a regu- lar dab at sentimental poetry herself. Oh, yee: I tell you she's smart more ways than ons, as well as pretty. “Let me read you some of the verses. MACHINE MADE SAMPLES. “Now, here's ous of the girls’. I tell you it's real poetry. If you've got any soul—well, here yousee are the words and question. Verb, laugh; adjective, rich: estion, When’ is love ‘sweetest? je read sonorously, with expressive head: Love ie sweetent at tts birth, Th hall the cx eetest when lone years wri how rich its dear content, Lie gods sor peers, eit Joys is lent “Now isn't that wonderful to be done in fif- teen minutes? Fifteen minutes was our time limit. This ie the one I did—didn’t take me five ‘minutes. I was ashamed of it after 1) heard that Leantifal poem, but she said it was | good, and laughed at it a lot,” and again he Tead— Love is sweetest when the lovers are rich, ‘Theu they can lauich at grier and wl sich She said it was clever to get in all in two lines. Here's another, The noun was lamp; adjective, verb, rush; and question, Where are the snows of yester year? Here's hers— They frost, perchance, Alpine splendor, "Sata the Ia ng tatr. 1 wists 3 to yeawen their did renier, They died a nappy death, by sums fine kissed Now new snows make the garment of th Or swell tue merry rush af mountein s wen ‘lore tie spring fies th 5 They, too, shail be the wenory of @ dreaiu" “This is mine.” He hurricd on rapidly as he eaw his victim getting restles the some suerry ones. tny ‘And ‘round the lam) “Pretty good, aiz “Well, after we'd done this awhile the girl— we all try to write a stanza like some poe of in i id go get a book in the we wanted to and look at anything We wished to imitate. I dropped out then, but she wrote a wonder. No, sir, she hadn't written it before. They other names and they gave hor Swinburne, because they thought ras hardest. And she wrote this: - tnurrows we songht her, Now sweet Joys crow sweeter froin winter's deartht “Now don't thaf beat Swinburne hollow? I tell you that girl—aw, just wait a minute! All right; good br; but when you try it yourself, you'll find poetry more interestin, —ee FOUR PAIR OF ACES, A Remarkable Poker Game Between Tweed and Black Joe Owens. From the Albany Express. ‘There recently died in Chicago an old negro named Joe Owens. At the time of his death he was head beliman at the Leland Hotel in that city. Years ago, when Tweed was in his glory, Joe was employed in the Delavan in this city. There uscd to be some heavy poker play- ing in that hotel during thove lively times and ‘Tweed's room was generally the headquarters of the game. Joe was a great favorite with ‘Tweed, as indeed he was with most of the “high rollers” at the capital. ‘Tweed had Joe made the special guardian of his room and no one could ever get in there if Joe said no. The old darkey Lappened to step into the apartment one evening when amore than or- dinarily big game was in progress. In front of aman named Shepard was a stack of chips representing £5,000. Joe was an inveterate poker player himself in those days, he and the other colored boys having a game going on most of the time in their quarters,and when he saw that great heap of money his eyes fairly bulged out of his head. Tgp preg wish Iwas in dat ar game,” joe, with a gasp. A thought came fo te. Shephard.” He ecut Soe down staise oe some errand, and during his absence u “cold deck” was run in aud fixed for the dark special benefit. When Joe came back Mr. epard asked him to play hand or two for him while he went out. Joe, with his heart beating high, took the seat and to play. When twoor three hands had fenpedady Joe was startled at getting four aces. He trembled all over, but just then Mr. Shepard returned, and, looking over Joe's shoulder, said, “Go for them, Joe; go forthem.” Joe did go for them. Everybody but Tweed dropped out of the game. ‘Tue Doctor (within).—A little more gas, sir. Toe Sted Coton —Woo-ah! Whub! Pacing (ten }).—How does this feel? Beate (gratefully).—Oh, delicious, thank you. Pray excuse me—not rising—but—Jera- salem, that tooth! Oh! PavLixe (more tenderly).—Let me naira 29 the pillow. There, that’s better. This is the inful check, isn't it?” entie.—Yes—uh !—yes. Your hand mskes it easier, Madam. Pavrixe (cpart).—Madam again! Does my hand feel as old as t? ‘Tux Doctor (vwithin).—Only one’ left. Breathe long. ‘Tue Pattext (within)—Huh! Wooh! Benriz (in fresh paroryiem).—Oh, Moses! OB aareee (bi It's too bad, -AULINE .—It's you poor, dear, blessed, darling! Beatie (looking up amazed).—What's that? ‘What is she saying? Pavurxz (apart).—Oh, what will I do—or he? Brurie (springing to feet).—Pauline! PAvuixe (retreating behind table). —Sir! Tas Dooron (within) IV soon be over. a ed hl ure Pauline! How geod outro! f Kean See duass Skanes Fou PAvLtxe (waving him back).—So I perceived. Bentre.—You'll pardon me for lying the! iepaeLne (coldly). SEs a i ULINE = . et Ldld ool ony Seioo pee would do for any suffering—creature. ‘Benrre —Will be the wife of Beene tig gig ad @Bioune ( ring) Bertio! - Do (ceithiny Not quite through. He kept on raising, while Joe, encouraged by Mr. T him every time until the darky bad piled the $5,000 in the center of the | Tries the old-fashioned plan, but tabie. success. ‘Then Tweed called him, and Joe, his eyes fairly down ming with wild’ excitement, threw is four aces, while he reached ‘for the ying, “What you got dah, Massa “Four aces,” said the boss, coolly, laying them down. “Fo’ aces!” cried Jo. ‘Fo’ aces! ‘Fore de Lawd, Massa Tweed, how can you hab fo’ sces?” The gamblers had had their fun and had seen Joe excited. were their own 60 Tuageed chovod into Joe's end thrust stew, and I don’t want the oysters and ree LT ! int . * pa Alphonso has been rejected and determines upon suicide, Fee tokes a dose of rongh-on-rata, but an une sympathetic roug iL. 40 Te jumps off the ferry boat, but is imme- diately rescued. He closes his room and blows out the gas, but | his ever-watchful landlady istoo mach for him. clubbed to death. yack talk” to a New York police ts still against him, and be as not Persuades a friend to point a didn't-know-it was-loaded revolver at him, but the friend proves a bad shot. yeh, i ee Se