Evening Star Newspaper, May 21, 1892, Page 7

tamly a strange figure as he stood there, with the door knob in his hand, seemingly inclined to de- part, but held by some impulse almost against his will. His form was as straight as an arrow and, despite his age, his face was sharp and severe in outline. The great fringed mittens hanging down below the cape of his surtout on either side fell free from the square shoulders; his Pose was as firm and his manner as prompt and decisive as that of a man of thirty. Yet Iknew he had seen more than double that number of summers and winters. There was something strangely irreconcilable between the man’s lan- guage and his appearance—between the repu- tation which he bore and the spirit he dixplayed. Just as he opened the door Harmon culled out: ~“What is that business you have on hand, Joel?” “I can wait,” said he, looking around, with his Band stil on the door knob, “if it's not con- ‘Yenient.” . 2 “I oy may as well have it over,” answered the lawyer. “Ef it won't be troublin’ ye too much—I've had a writ served on me.” “You? A writ served on you?” exclaimed the lawyer, springing from his chair. “Who ever heard of such a thing! Sued Joel Pike! Who's Deen fool enongh to do it? You've had a tug ‘with most everybody in the neighborhood, first and last, and some outside oft, but I never beard of anybody suing you before. You've al- > done that part of the job yourself. What's for?” ‘The junior partner and the student were all attention, too. “Sault and battery,” was the answer. “Criminal?” b. , too. “Civil and criminal: well. that looks like bus- fess. Who've you been fighting? I thought You'd qnit that business since you licked Har- Hington, twenty years ago?” “T had to do that. ‘squire,” said the old man earnestly, closing the door and turning back into the room. rou. wasn’t that. I me; but he spoke disrespectfully of—of—a woman’ You don’t take up the defense of the whole sex, do you?” “I wouldn't ever hear anybody speak ill of— of her.” “His wife?” The other did not answer. “Yet she hated you worse than poiso “That just shows how good she was; she had to take sides with one or other. you know.” ua thought she could not ~"Twas never any secret what I thought of Susan Gedney.’squire. Whether she could have done wrong. ain't the matter in question: it’s certain she seldom did—cordin’ to her lights, re “You've heard, I suppose, that Harrington ‘was in the plot to rob you?” ver had no doubt of it.” “That was the reason he disappeared about that time. I believe.” “Can't say—expect it wag.” “Went into the army, dit he?” asked Rug- ents, Bet formed trom his desk and was ‘hing interestedly to the conversation. “Yes,” answered the senior, “went asa sub- stitute —got a thousand dollars and sent it all home to his wife—bout the only decent thing I ever knew about him. I always wondered at that. By the way, Joel, did you ever know there was some talk about having you up for _ bis murder?” “Shouldn't have been surprised,” was the cool response. “Well, there was. Somehow it got out that there had been an attempt to rob you on your way home; that he was in it; that you had shot him and concealed the body somewhere. Aman came to me in dead earnest about it, and if Harrington's wife hadn't received the letter from her husband when she came into town to inquire about the matter, I've a notion she'd have sworn out a warrant against you.” “More'n likely.” said the old man, quietly. “She was greatly elated over the letter and the check —especially the letter. I think she Pas positively glad to know that he bad man- enough to enlist. I remember a queer thing about it. She came here and showed them to me. The letter didn't contain a word about money sent, but said be had gone as a substi- tute and would send her money —whep he drew his pay. The check was a cashier's draft paya- ble to Susan Gedney (Harrington), with the Harrington in brackets. She called’ it to my attention and neither of us could imagine any Feason for it. It was lucky for you that it eame fast when it did. | Tdon't know what the neigh- rs would have done if it hadn't.” “It's jest ez well they didn’t do anything,” grimly. “Idon't see why people have such a spite against you, Joel”” “I haven't ever spent much money for trum- a pe “To sound your own praise, eh? I believe ides, you've insisted in living like a 4 BY AJBIONWW-TOURGEE - ‘ | aoe refusing to do what society requires that every one sball do, who desires its ap- 0 “Thad to live my own life and preferred to do it in my own way.” “That's a mistake Joel; one must do as others he wishes, if he wants to get along in this world.” “I bain't anything to complain of; ef the neighbors let me alone, I'll let them alone; I'm matistied ef they are.” “But they aren't satisfied; they want to know how you came to own the old Gedney place; what you paid for it, what became of the Money. and why you live alone, instead of hav- ing a wife and family like other folks.” “They li bave to keep on wantin’, I guess. But you know, ‘squire, that Josh Gedney wa'n't no fool.” ‘Weil, it would seem so; but there was some- thing strange about the’ matter, for all that,” mid the lawyer thoughtful “Probably always will be,” was the composed reply. “Ob, I suppose so,” retorted the other im- ¥; “one might as weil try to worm a Secret out of an oyster.” “A man’s got a right, I b’leve, to keep still "bout his own matters when he don't choose to “Well, ves—that's the law. Sit down and let Me see your papers.” ‘The old man took off his mittens, unbuttoned Bis great cout, turned his chair sidewise to the SS — on the = of it, removed his took from it a thin pa ckage of which be handed to the attonney, rire “The devil!” exclaimed the senior, glancing at the indorements, “Of course you didn't i” “"Fraid I did,” answered the other with a “You did? What did you hit her with?” yt tm fest an abe says wouldn't “With « horse whip?” “Wall anos whip.” “Such os tha” Tere > “What on ear iniaced you to do such « vhen the had jilted you, why ‘thing? Ww @dn't let her. i” Perhaps I dida't like the company she was ete yon didn't. ‘What was that to you? Joel Pike, for a men who is credited with com- mon sense and allowed to ithout = guar- wit tigated fool I ever The Evening Stat “What damage do you suppose she'll get?” asked the client, apparently unmoved by his at- torney’s disgust. should say $1,000—perhaps more.” “The young man she was with isa hard case ——" “What's that got todo with it?” intétrapted the lawyer savagely. “Well, T wasn't goin’ to have him runnin’ round with her, anyhow,” decisively. “He'll probably sue, too—” H hy not? sure to recover.” “He'd lose more’n he'd gain. Fuct is, he won't be seen round her—for awhile, at least.”” Well, the girl will recover—get a big ver- dict. “I don’t mind the money, but I do hate to be beat. Inever thought of that. Couldn't you ‘Not without I had something to go on, reason to offer why they should drop it. there is none; there's neither rhyme nor reason in the matte ‘d have to talk’ to her counsel, you know, and he'll know there's no possible euse for wi ou've done. see there's a guardian ad litem in the civil suit; soit can’t be settled with the girl.” “But I might beat "em, ‘squi “Beat them? With such a case as that? Joel been amaz- some But suits and four on ‘em been to the supreme court, one on ‘em twice,” was the ex- ulting response. “Yes, it's a big record, but no luck could stand against such # case as this.” “It would be too bad to be beat on the twenty- first, wouldn't it The old man rubbed his hands together and gazed anxiously at his counsel. “Well, ves; it would bea little tough,” laughed the lawyer. “‘An’ by a chit of a girl, too!” Yes, the laugh would be on you, decidedly.” “don't mind that—but the record—I hate awfully to have the record broke.” “But what can be done?” “If it comes to trial I'l have to fight. I don't want to, but I'll jest have to. I didn’t think of that at the time.” Vhat good will it do?” Veshould beat ‘em, ‘squire, certainto. I should hate to do it, but I couldn't spoil the record—reully I couldn’t—even for her sake.” “What do you propose?” “She wants to get an eddication, squire—" “Well?” summers an’ g “Of course.’ “Why shouldn't she take the money—on » ‘ou seem anxious to make her a present.” “Why not? Ain't she Joshua Gedney’s grand- daughter? “But she wouldn't accept money from you!” “That's jest I want it done by a compro- mise—let her think it's smart money—paid to escape trial—don't you see?” ‘The old man leaned forward ly, laying a slender forefinger on the lawyer's arm as he « “You think after she had once used the money she would be bound to show some consideration for her benefactor, el “I don’t spose she'd ever know about it.” “Oh, that won't do, Joel; nobodv'll believe that. ‘Of course I'd be willing to he ma, but your plan won't work. You've either got to show Fitch he can't win or else offer a sum so large as to excite suspicion of your motive. You can’t do the first and if you try the second the young lady will fling the money back in your face. It's no use, and you deserve it, too. ‘There's no excusing your conduct on’ any grounds, legal or moral.” The young student, with flushed and angry face, nodded an emphatic assent to this concli- sion. ‘The old man seemed strangely moved at these words. At length he threw back his coat, and, opening his waistcoat, which buttoned to the’ ching bronght forth’ an old sheepskin pocket book, from which he took # paper and inded it to the lawyer. ~What’s thia/—her mother —” “Jest before ‘she died, sir,” said the other humbly. “Dear Joel—" “Ef you please,sir—” putting out his hand in remonstrance. But the lawyer neither saw the gesture nor heard the words. Histyed were flashing buck and forth across the page. “Why, this—man alive! We've got em!” He prang to his feet, waving the paper aloft. joel, you're « brick! Luck’s with you yet! We'll win this case, too, as sure as Does she know about this—the girl, I mean’ Ef youll read w little further you'll see that—that—" He paused in embarrassment. The lawyer was again eagerly scanning itten page. “Why, this—I don’t understand.” He glanced at his client in wonder. “Ef you please, sir—” ‘The old man glanced at Ruggles and myself with an imploring look. ertainly, Mr. Pike,” said the lawyer, an- swering the look rather than the words. “Step this way, please.” He led the way into the back room of the office. z “Well, I swear!” exclaimed Bi you hear that? Mister Pike! ‘The old man, too, who never spoke respectfully to him before in his life! I elieve ‘they are botherazy! For myself I was too bewildered to make any comment. From the consultation room came the sound of voices in earnest conversation. Then there was silence, and we heard the senior pacing back and forth, as was his wont when in deep thought. Then there was silence aguin, broken only by an oceasional murmur, Finally Mr. Harmon, opening the door, said, beckoning to his partner: “Step this way a minute, Ruggles—you, too, man,” to me. ntlemen,” he said, after we had followed him into the other room, pointing toa docu- ment on the table, “this is the last will and tes- tament of Mr. Joel Pike: he wishes you to at- test it and also the codicil.” He looked at the other, who bowed with the grace and gravity of a courtier, as he said: “If you please, gentlemen.” The instrument was a voluminous one and written ina singularly even hand, except the codicil, which wasin the sprawling, careless chirography of Mr. Harmon. Mr. Ri signed the ‘attesting clauses, both of the will and of the codicil. I stepped forward and took the pen to write my name under his, “Oh—I beg pardon,” said the senior, taking the pen from my hand. “Come to think, you cannot wituess this; I'll have to do it myself.” So he signed instead and Mr. Ruggles and I withdrew. "After a while the others followed us out. The great lawyer accompanied his client to the door, opening it for him and cordially shaking his hand, as he said: be “I'm sorry for it, Mr. Pike, but I've done you wrong—great wrong.” “It's no matter,” answered the old man in his thin, clear voice; “I'm used to it.” Yet there was an evident glow of satis- faction in his face as he spoke. The senior stood in the door and bude him good-bye, calling fry himeven after he reached the side- wal “Til attend to the matter at once, Mr. Pike. His partner and the student looked on in un- disguised wonder. Joel Pike clambered into his woodrack and cracked his whip. “Gee “bout!” we heard him say. The sleek Devons tossed their heads, turned mmbly into the road and started in a contented trot toward home. The senior watched his departure from the window. “Ruggles,” he said, after a moment, “could do a little job for si “If you'd just take me out in the street there id kick me around town for about half an hour les. “Did ink of it! “Pye got to see Sadie Harrington before this matter goes any further.” “She's in Olmstead, ten miles away.” as, well save yourself the trip,” I answered “Don't jump at conclusions, my son,” he said hum ly; “get the best team P tea ind; and we'll be off so as to get by dinner time. By the way, I wish you'd stop in and ask Fitch if he won't step over here a min- ute. Tell him I must see him on a matter of importance at once. He's younger than I am not afraid of rheumatism, either.” I did as directed, and when I returned with the team found the senior ready for the drive, Fitch saying as we started: “Itall depends on the young lady; if she's willing of course we won't stand in the way. I take it she’s one that knows her own mind.” “Knows her own mind!” I said to myself. “They'll find out she does, and don’t allow any Tesber-jprened lawyer to talk her out of it, Of course, I assumed that they were talking of Sadie Harrington. CHAPTER V. I shall never forget the ride to Olmstead that day through the“feather snow.” There is no man so entertaining as an old lawyer when he gets leave of his caution to tap his store of reminis- cences. Martin Harmon had practieed law at Hardinsville for thirty years, and for him every road leading into the country town was thronged with memories. He knew every man we met and every house we passed. Despite the cold, Iwas sorry the end of the journey came so soon. After dinner at the hotel T walked with him to the house where Sadie i She was attending school P tory to teaching. We had been friends from childhood. Her mother had lived in a small place, cut off from the north side of the Gedney farm.® Her husband had been a dissolute vagabond, who squandered all she hed except this little tract, and after his death she and her daughter would no doubt have suffered but for the secret benefactions of the man who owned her ancestral hi ‘These afforded much amusement to the neigh- bors, being regarded as indirect approaches to widow. There were some who chose to consider them as offerings made bya guilty man to ease a tronbleli conscience. “According to them, and, indeed, by universal rumor, Joel Pike had in some mysterious but wrongful manner come into possession of the Gedney farm, where he had lived since the death of its former owner. Joshua Gedney had been one of the most pros- perous and prominent men in the countr’ round. Joel Pike had worked for him when a young man and was much esteemed by his em- ployer. He was said to have been a very hand- some and obliging young fellow, who seemed devoted heart and soul to his employer's daughter, Susan Gedney, then a young girl. It was a matter of surprise, therefore, when he suddenly left Gedney’s service, went west and only returned after several years. He had been among the first to reach California after the discovery of gold and was said to have been one of the most successful of those early adven- turers. If’ he broaght any money back with him, however, no one saw it. He found his early sweetheart married, a fact which seemed to greatly disconcert him, though he said little about it. He remained in the neighborhood only « short time and nothing more was heard of him until three or four years later, when he turned up, on the death of Joshua Gedney, ax the owner of the whole farm, some 300 acres, except twenty acres, with a small house and orchard, i For this he claimed to have paid 310,000 in gold, at that time a much larger sum than it would be _con- sidered now. In proof of this he showed not only Joshua Gedney’s deed, but also a receipt for the money, witnessed dy the husband of Susan. The deed was duly acknowledged by the maker. The mystery was what had become of the money. Harrington denied all knowledge of the matter and hinted that he must have been drunk when he signed the receipt. On the whole there was a general belief that in some way or other a fraud of the most atrocious character had been committed. ‘The new owner would make no expianation. He told his old employer's daughter she was welcome to occupy the premises rent free as long as she lived, but her husband must not come upon them. Of course she refused. Not long afterward there was a conflict between the two men. No one knew how it came about, but Harrington was Teported to Inve been terribly beaten. Joel Pike moved on his new farm, put it in complete repair and stocked it with the best the country could afford. He seemed to have all the money ired, but mae no show, nor could any one obtain any reliable knowledge us to his wealth. He hired such labor as he required, but would allow no woman to enter the house where he lived absolutely alone. Indeed, it was said no one had penetrated farther than the hall since his occupancy began. A horse which belonged to him when he went away he hadleft with Susan, who had used it during his absence. When she loft the place he requested her to take the horse. On her refusal le shot the animal and had never owned another. ‘These things and many stories illustrative of his eccentricity and avarice I had heard while teaching the pub- lic school of the district. Sadie had been one of my pupils, and thoug® I never heard her speak of the matter, I sympathized with her greatly as a victim of Joel Pike's fraud and avarice and had come to entertain for her a preference not wholly based on pity. I did not wonder that she hated the miserly hermit who had wronged her mother so bitterly, and knowing well her independent spirit Thad no doubt that the senior would come out second best in the interview he was abont to have with her. It was with a smile, therefore, that I heard his careless request to “come aronnd in about an hour” when he learned that she was in. I sauntered back to the hotel and waited, fully expecting him to appear before the hour was up. He did not come, however, and when I went to her lodging, in compliance with his request, I found them both sitting in the par- lor, she with a flushed, tearful face, but ap- parently on the best of ‘terms with the lawyer. “Well.” said the senior, after a moment, “vou two are old friends and I know will want a little visit. I don't suppose you would have seen him before you left, Miss Sadie, if Thgdn't dragg him from his books and made him com me. I assure you he is a most devoted student, If vou are to be absent three years I'm afraid he'll grow to his chair—if he survives at all, that ix.” The great liquid eyes overflowed with humor ashe made this bantering comment. But the intimation his words conveyed wus startling enough. “You are going away?” I asked her in sur- se. Peshe will enter Mt. Holyoke Seminary next week,” said the senior, answering for her. “Enter Mt. Holyoke! Ilooked at Miss Harrington, who blushingly asented. “What? I don't understand,” I said, turning from one to the other in wonder. “Lleave Miss Sadie to make the necessary ex- planations,” said Mr. H&rmon with a laugh at my perpletity. ‘Then shaking her hand with a ternal familiarity, which wasirritating enough, said: “Good-bye, my dear; I wish you ali success. You understand, I hope, that you can only give offense by being economical.”” m he bowed himself out, and I turned to my companion for explana Teonfens I was not prepared for what followed. Hardly had the door closed when she threw her arms about my neck, rested her head upon my breast and began to weep. “Isn't it too bad?” she asked between her “Now, I had dreamed of having that bright young head in the very position it then occu- pied too often to give assent to such x dolorous sentiment, even when enforced by her tears. So [ answered, non-committally: “Well—I don’t know.” “Poor mamma!” she exclaimed with a fresh burst of tears. Idid my best to soothe this natural outburst of the motherless girl. “Poor Joel Pike!” she continued. seem as if I could go away wi “Poor Joel Pike!” I repeated angrily.“ erable old rascal! What do you want to see for?” My blood was hot against the old man, and all the ras I thought of his having beaten with stripes the lithe form my arms enfolded. “Hush! Hush!" she said, putting her hand upon my lips. “You must not speak so. ic abtle-oud shake I canet explain; but I must see him before I yo. Will you not come for me tomorrow aud bring me back to take the train the next morning?” Would I? Would a Peri enter Paradise? I what answer I made nor what was that. I only know that when Mr. Ler yr nae porte red promised to give all my life might bring for the of the joys and sorrows of and the sweet contract had been sealed I did not tell the senior this, nor that I had agreed to take Sadie to see Jocl Pike the next day, though he teased me about her all the way back to Hardinaville, and no doubt guessed haif “How do you happen to know where she is?” | the truth. Imust have been « dull companion, he asked, eyeing me . Perhaps my face | for I could think of nothing all the way but the flushed enough to ‘some interest in the fair form I had embraced, the eyes _w! had young lady as I stated I had accidentally | looked love to mine tears and of ar < fare tees nn “You know her, ‘ = @ very ““slightly.”” i fortuhate day?” said the senior, bi “Got any sense?” ‘upoa my reverie as we drove into the “Yes, and lots of spirit.” just as the gray winter twilight settled over Of course snow-muilied scene. think #0,” he added, imy contasbon, | Lwappuse I mast have Glaaumered. scase sort “Well, if you expect to settle this matter with | of assent, for he laughed good old Jog) Pike by paying her money you might| “Yet you do not know half the luck iy yh the street to his house. I eard hima chuckling over it as'he weat ap the steps to the door; yet I could not see anything laughable in what said. CHAPTER VI. ‘The morrow brought the perfection of win- ter day, clear, crisp, sparkling. The ‘feather snow” still dulled the glare, and though the roads were well broken, the track was like vel- yet under the horses’ hoofs. The school bell was just ringing for the 9 o’clockassembly when Idrove up to the gate and found Miss Sadie waiting for me. I wondered if she had been us impatient as I. In trath sleep had hardly vis- ited my eyelids dusing the night, or if it did the visions it brought were so fuli of glad an- ticipation that bcould not distinguish between them and my waking thoughts. What pen shall describe a lover's first ride with his sweetheart, especially on such a day! Never shall mine attempt it. Yet it lives in memory still. Ihave only to close my eyes to see the mellow light that bathed the world, hear the soft yielding snow creak beneith the run- ners, feel the warm presence by my side, to live over again, in short, the rapture of that ecstatic hour. We did not go through Hardinsville, as T did not wish Mr, Harmon to sce us until our return. So our way took us through along, deep canyon, Tined on ‘either side with evergreens bowed down and decorated in all fantastic ways with clinging putts of snow. Never this side of the pearly gates shall my eyes again behold any- thing so beautiful as that snow gorge! As the horses waded along the unbroken track, tossing aside the feathery particles, every’ instant brought to light some new beauty. Even the little stream that ran bright and steaming along its racky bed at the bottom of the glen was a thingof rare loveliness. Every rock, euch bit of anchor ice and every bush along ite bank was hidden with cushions of clinging snow Some of the forms were of singular while others were of quaint and laugh- 8. How sweet it was to note mblances we found and call them to each other's attention! And when we were climbing the opposite bank, how pleasant to hear our voices so softly echoed up and down the chasm, while the snow upon the overhang- i anches, loovened by our laughter, came rattling down a shower of silver spray upon our heads, Tt was just noon when we arrived at our ion, the “Old Gedney Place.” The sp cious front yard was all upgrown with neglected ever- upon which the snow lay in soft, light undisfurbed. The path to the front guarded by the interlocked arma of two great balsams on either side. No one had passed along it ina dozen years. I drove through the side gate to a door, which was evi- dently the one most in use. A pretty shepherd dog sitting on the threshhold eyed us wonder- ingly, retreated a few steps and then came crouching to my side for recognition. A word and a caress made him my friend. I tied the steaming horses to a convenient post, threw the blanket over them and, as the path was not a good one between the ‘sleigh and the door, I lifted my companion out and carried her pro- testingly to the doorstep, where I carefull¥ sat her down, taking pay for my gailantry before I knocked foradmission. ‘There was no response. Iknocked again, All was still. I stepped back and examined the house with care. ‘Phe shut- ters on two of the windows were open, the oth- ers closed. A light curl of smoke rose lazily from the chimne .”" T said as I returned and “He must be once more rapped, louder than before. “Perhaps he will not admit us?” my com- Panion suggested. “Palaw!" T answered scornfully. “How will he keep us out?” ‘The bravest man_on earth is the young lover in the presence of his mistress who speaka of imaginary danger. Nevertheless, my heart stood still, when after a moment's waiting the door before us swung open and we looked into anempty room. At the same time the dog at our feet set up a prolonged and mournful bowl. As soon as we conld get the snowlight out of our eyes and realize that the room was really without an occupant we saw a door at the other side, toward which I went walking softly, for no reason that I could give, and Sadie following me, I think, because she did not wish to remain alone. I knocked, and we waited with beating hearts. There was no reply. I rapped again, more emphatically. The dog howled once more while we waited for a response. I glanced at the outer door, The sun was shining brightly "’ I said impatiently. “What's the The man is either a boor or not room, warm, bright, cheerful. A common country cook’ stove, ‘bright and clean, stood opposite the door. | window full of flowering nts let in the southern sunlight. A big old- fashioned clock pointed both hands to 12 and with ite solemn tick seemed to warn us not to break the silence. We bad closed the door be- fore we saw that. there was any one within. Then I noticed the owner lying on a broad set- tle with a high back, which at firsthad sereened him from our sight.’ A table stood beside the stove with dishes yet upon it. He had probably eaten, laid down and fallen ina doze. “Ibeg your pardon, Mr. Pike,” 1’ sdid, ad- vaneing toward the couch. He’ did not speak or stir. His small white hands were folded on his breast and I fancied I could see them rise ith his breathing. T repented. not move. “Mr. Pik Still he did forchead. It wns cold, “We have come too late,” I said to my com- panion, ‘He is dead.” She came to my side and looked down upon the peaceful face. After a moment she fell upon her knees, kissed the cold brow and mur- mnred through her tears: “Poor Joel Pike!” ‘Mr. Harmon uttered the same exclamation when an hour. afterward I informed him of his client's death. Every one reiterated it when it was learned that he had left his estate to “Sadie Lois Gedney, Lois Harr y vealed th narriage of Susan Gedney had been void because of the previous marriage of Harrington, that her father sold his farm to prevent the exposure, and that this was the reason Joe) Pike had bought it, people ex- d’ with regretful emphasis, “Poor Joel And. when it. was ki I put my hand on his cause that young lady vertures he had planned the whipping to induce her to accept his bounty without revealing her father's guilt, a note of admiration mingled with their reference to man who had been #0 long contemned, and people sighed in wonder of his constancy as they exclaimed, “Poor Joel Pike!” Sadie fool- ishiy thinks he was a hero, but every one knows ere are no heroes in these “realistic” days, if, indeed, there ever were any. So he could not have been a hero, or perhaps even a lover, but just a foolish litigious accident whom we can ouly call “Poor Joel Pike.” —_——_+eo—_____ The Last of the Chartists. From the Pall Mall Gazette. No one will grudge the grant of £200 from the civil list to Mr. Thomas Cooper, the veteran ex-Chartist and poet. Mr. Cooper, who is among the last, if not'the last, of the prominent Char- tists living, began life as a shoemaker, and while working at his trade taught himself the Latin, Greek, Hebrew and French languages. At twenty-three he became a schoolmaster, and later drifted into journalism, one of his first ap- intments being a reportership on the Leices- r Chronicle. Tt was while at Leicester that he became an ardent Chartist, and was sent to prison for two years in connection with the Hote in the potteries, While in prison Mr. Cooper wrote his eple poem, “The Pu of nic and a series of stories called “Wise Saws and Modern Instances.” Some time after his liberation from prison he turned secnte rt, running a weekly skept jodical, Ina few years, however, his ‘opinions under: went a complete change, and he frequently tackled representative secularists in public de- bate. His brief deviation from the path of orthodoxy ‘has always been a matter of regret with him and he has written several books on Christian. evidences, on which subject he lee- tured all over the country for many years. His autobiography, which 9] some twenty years ago, is an ei y interesting book. — 7. We are Such Stuff as Dreams are Mede of. From Life. Reminiscences of the Drama in New York Years Ago. FORREST AND THE RIOTS. Memory of the Row Between the American ‘Tragedian and Macready—Chanfrau’s Mose and How It Took the Town—Old Comedians and the Effect They Had. ERHAPS THE LEGIT- ‘imate successor of Ty- rone Power was John Collins, the truest of Irishmen, With him curious caricature and wild exaggeration usu- ally seen in those who try to play Irish parts without any adequate knowledge of Irish char- acter or Celtic customs. Honest, hearty, jovial, whole souled, humor and | manhood flashing from voice and eye, racy, ra- diant with wit and over brimming with spirits, who could have #0 well drawn the real Irishman and who can now give us the idea at all? In “Born to Good Luck,” “Teddy the Tiler,” “The Irish Ambassador,” “How to Pay the Rent” and “O'Flanagan and the Fairie®’ John Collins was the genuine Irich- | man to the letter, and seeing how natural it was everybody in his’ large audie: at the old Broadway Theater felt the fidelity, the spirit and the great ability of his performances. His clear, rich tenor was delightful. Who will forget the nitive songs he sang? ‘The **Y ‘The Bowld Sojer_E The Sprig of Shillalah and Shamrock 80 Green” were introduced to American andi- ences by the mellow, feeling and humorous ren- dering of Mr. Colling, Honor the old worthies! How soon we get to Wink of them as ancient after they are gone, long before the slow lichen flecks their grave stones, EDWIN FORREST IN HIS PRIME. Only to the youthful playgoer is Edwin For- rest unfamiliar at this day. That massive, muscular form, imposing presence, magnetic fire, magnificent head. irresistible intensity of passion, impressive deliberation and the thou- sand essential propertios which mark the com- manding tragedinn were his pre-eminently. Pri- marily Forrest was a thorough Shakesperean, both in scholarship and professional perform= ance. What nature had not given him he acquired for himself, but he was generously endowed. Secondarily, his ; force and impetuosity of will, as well as fine in- tellectual possessions, rendered him almost un- approachable. Sana mens in sano corpore was stamped upon every lineament of his person- ality, and glowed in the Jove-like glances of his restless eye. * Forrest's stage presence was overwhelming. Ofa more muscular and athletic figure than Salvini's, with stronger face and deeper chest voice, invineible vim, resonant, finished decla- mation, a kindliness of smile, an eye warm, re- pellant’ or ferocious at will,'a subtle, carefully studied, classical portrayal of character, origi- nal, effective, intensely dramatic and concen- trated, this American actor in many of his the- ical delineations was simply and purely in- imitable. Yet Forrest had none of the Italian love- making pathos of Salvini in Othello nor the artistic and heart-rending misery of Salvini in “The Outlaw,” though Forrest could undoubt- edly have enacted the latter with exquisite feeling, and the Anglo-Saxon barbaric of For- rest’s methods in Ofhello were as terrific as the Italian barbaric of Salvini in the some part, although Salvini is more like Edmund Kean in that character by far than was Forrest. In tragic declamation, however, Forrest was Salvini's superior, as well as in passive stateli- nese, maptal scope, intense irony, mad rushes of ungovernable wrath and indignation, and a proud, bold, warlike, knightly, érrepressibly spirited bearing. Of physical impression For- rest gave us the highest possible sense; ofp: chological Salvini imparts the best. The pit rose at Kean, the boxes clapped Kemble. The it rose at Forrest, the boxes clapped Macready, th pit and boxes appland Salvini, because of his artistic finish and Latin intentnest. HIS INFLAMMABLE TEMPERAMENT. Forrest was of @ very inflammable tempera- ment. He could brook no contradiction or in- terruption. Like Junius Brutus Booth he was a furious stage fencer, and a terror to any inex- perienced or unpracticed adversary. But there wasa keen sense of humor and good hearted- ness about him which would sometimes crop out in comic manifestations, He was unmerci- ful, it must be confessed, toward an offending supernumerary to a degree of cruelty. On one occasion a poor intemperate actor, who had once done better parts, was assigned to a subor- dinate post in the play. His voice being im- paired he was unuble to recite the text with proper emphasis. Forrest took him up short and swiftly, shouting at him: ‘This is the way, not carry coals, gory. 'y Now, sirrah, say it as I say it.” ‘The trembling wight tried again in vain. Forrest seized him ungrily by the throat, shout- ‘Why, in Cwsar's name, can’t you say it as I ra i Vhen the frightened fellow was at length re- lensed he respectfully replied to his irascible assailant: “Mr. Forrest, if Icould speak the words as you speak them, I would not be receiving but #10 a week while you are paid $1,000 a night.” “Poor man!" said Forrest, handing him a bank bill. Anything approaching to servility, however, Forrest severely and immediately resented. He knew that he was brasque toward his inferiors and asked for no subserviency toward himself. A doorkeeper at the stage entrance of a certain theater was invariably most prolific of profound obeisances when Forrest arrived at a rehearsal ofa morning. Flinging open the gate on u bit- ter winter day the bowing doorkeeper ad- dressed the actor officiously as he passed in. “A cold morning, Mr. Forrest, a very cold morning!” Forrest gave him one withering glance and wrathfully made answer, in exception to his usual habit of non-notice “Yeu, a way you are right, sir. It is » very cold morning. Very cold, sir. The iicles are hanging fast to the ‘skirts of my cout, sir. “Bo are you, sir. THE ASTOR PLACE RIOTS. The fatal Astor place riots of 1849, brought about by the rivalry of Forrest and Macready, assumed quite a national character. The British Macbeth, on the eventful evening, having the support of the old-time codfish aristocracy at the ra House, and the native American Macbeth holding the indorsement (to the simu- lated death) of the Bor and Mackerelville patriots at the Broad: Theater. On that memorable occasion mackerel and the commons gt the better of codfish and the gentry, and ‘orrest remained headmaster of the situation. John MeCallough copied closely after Forrest, having enjoyed rare opportunities for many Years of studying and imitating his idolized chief. a careful instructor to his favorite pupil. But thus far there has been but one Forrest in all the annals of histrionic art. . Formefly there was nothing more enticing to the theatrical taste than an announcement of a series of classic old comedies, such as “8; the Plough,” “She Stoops to ner,” “The School for Scandal” and “The Rivals,” if only there were i names in the cast. These the pi took the town a respect 0 ‘8 pleasure was something like that of notice o hew work by Dickens or Thackeray, ‘To see coupled with the announcement the names of . Burton, Blake, Placide and Sefton was like reading those upon the bills, many ayear before, by our ancestors, of Finn, of Munden, of Liston, of Palmer, of Mathews, of Power, of Cooke, in the plays ‘of Shakespesre, Goldsmith, Massinger ‘end’ Morton. If Fanny Kemble were the Juliet or Ellen ‘Treo the there was none of the | th It was a low ry kept by the famous prize fighter of Som halcyon boars, Yankee Sullivan, ‘vanquished Hyer, Caunt and Secor. and finally fell "before the unapproachable powers of Mr. Congressman Morrissey. The Mose’s of the thoment frequented the Sullivan Arms and on sidewalk and in doorway proudly ex- hibited their manly muscles to the eye of every passer-by. Chanfrau’s Mose was readily recog- mized as one of these knights errant of € street and the Bowery —-bold, swaggering, reck- Jess-looking bruiser of the ‘thoroughfares, the terror of thieves, the champion of ‘the ladies” and the last resort of the light-fi fra ternity. “The Streets of New York,” with More ‘ykes and Lize in the cast, proved popular with the people and profitable, indeed, to the treasury of worthy Mr. Mitchell’ and his queer little unclassical Olympic. We read how Thackeray's gentle heart was moved to #ympathy and sensitiveness at hear- ing the soft strains of a air whistled at the opera, between the acts, bya little urchin in 1¢ gallery, and how affectingly he says of it that its music had true tenderness and dee; im, and how we love the genial gentleman for the tears that then o'erbrimmed is lids and trickled down his manly cheeks. CHRISTY'S MINSTRELS, The earliest band of negro minstrels of any note, and they had great popularity, were the famous Christy troupe at Mechanics’ Hall, Broadway. That was in 1845 or thereabouts. E. P. Christy was the gentlemanly “*middle- man.” George Christy was the original “bones,” Gouid was the “tamborinist,” and very funny and plantation-like they had’ all learned to be. Mr. Gould, the celebrated guitarist, performed exquisite solos upon that instrument them nightly. George Christy was really a comedian of considerable talent and his witty sayings be- came common street property. Mention is made of the “Christy MMst order to make special referen y strictly characteristic musical composer that America has yet had—the gifted author of “The Old Folks at Home.” None who have ever seen that thin, smooth face, with dark, glowing eves and the broad, white brow fringed with bushy hair: none who have since heard the tender, affecting strains of his southern minstrelsy can forget or cease to recall with national pride and pleasure the name of Stephen C. Fos! musician. W: i t.” or *Massa’s in the Cold, Cold Ground,” which so moved the kindly Thackeray to tears, we wonder! THE LATE BILLY FLORENCE. It were supererogatory to make other than general mention of such professionally absorbed actorsas Mr, E,L, Davenport, Mr. William Wheatley, Mr. George Vendenhoff and Mr. Thomas Hamblin. ‘The genial, tender, humor- ous delineations of Mr. William J. Florence, however, merit many a remembrance and kind allusion.” Like Charles Dickens, Mr. Florence was “very human, indeed.” His heart was warm as his hand was generous, nor was his head unstocked with able brains. His range of powers was very ample. From Obenreitzer to Bardwell Siote he was finished in both comedy and melodrama, as every theater-goer knows. Nothing could exceed the pathos of his imper- sonation of *:poor hunted-down, broken-hearted Bob Brierly” in Tom Taylor's “Ticket of Leave Man,” and his touching, natural performance of Zekiel Homespun in the “Heir-at-Law,” the last part in which he ever appeared, is most memorable, In farcical ctin, Flor- ence was only second to William E. Burton, and, wearing the identical clothing which Mm Burton wore as Capt. Cuttie, Mr. Florence gave a remarkably clove yy of that great comedian’s accomplished style. ‘There were other things, too, which reminded one of Burton, besides the dress, in Florence’ playing, namely, broad burlesque, unctuous exuberance of manner, absurd pomposity and self-important bombast. In florid expression both Burton and Florence belonged to the same old school characteristic of the comedy of the early part of the tentury, and which but few actors have the sense of humor or capacity to follow at the present day. AN OLD ENGRAVING. In the New York Society Library is preserved an old-fashioned engraving, musty and moldy and moth-eaten and in dingy wooden frame, of a benefit_night at the old Park Theater, Mr. Stephen Price, manager, in-the year 1825, U the stage are seen the elder Mathews and Knight engaged in enacting some laughal farce of the early quarter of the century. In the dress circle and in the pit (which was then the fashion) are distinguishable excellent por- traits of the habitual frequenters of the theater. There are to be secu such society Gothamites as Thomas Addis Emmet, James W. Gerard, David Graham, sr., Gen, Bogardus, Washing” ton Irving, Gulian C. Verplank,’ Mathew Davis and Hugh Maxwell, and both the lady and gentlemen members of families of the Swartwouts, Morrises,Van Rensellaers, Clintons, Roosevelts,’ Duyckincks, Ogdens and others. ‘The descendants of the Knickerbockers are well represented. Lounging in the vestibule of the dress circle, back of the boxes, are seen such elegant exquisites a» Andrew Hammersley, #rank Cutting, N. P. Willis, Bob Morris, Frank Waddell, Prosper M. Wetmore and Beau Rogers. A small compact figure. scrupulously neat, with white face, glittering black eyes and protrudit chin, a scant-haired elderly man, is stern ani silent Col. Aaron Burr. That thoughtful-look- ing ponderous gentleman, with bushy brows and hair and gold-rimmed éyeglass is Chancellor worth, the last chancellor of the state of New York. What a notable scene it is, and how the old Knickerbocker names impress the sense with memories of Geoffrey Crayon’s immortal history of New Amsterdam! And “‘Salmagundi” is sketched in every line of the old print. One feels a welcome rustling in the breast when the dead leaves are stirred and the old- time sock and buskin are again laid bare to view. There are no better actors of today nor greater favorites with our play-goers now than then. On the whole, however, memories of the theater may be heightened by the golden reflections of young day dreams when life and hope are still ahead and plain, commonplace reality has not yet blurred or biunted the zest and faculty of youthful zeal. Be that as it may, past foot- lights and the faces once behind them will still come back at grateful moments to haunt the present, as it flies, with not unsightly images. David Guauam ADEE. penny cies: Appearances Are Deceptive. From the Kansas City Times. Up Union avenue yesterday there trotted a brindle bulldog of large dimensions, He was particularly ferocious of aspect, with a tail that had been cut so short that it was a mere reminder of a tail, ears chopped close to his head and the picturesque frescoing of scars that freely adorned his massive frame bore mute testimony to the many battles in which he had taken @ leading He was evidently looking for trouble—for @ “scrap”—and he found it. Across the street, sneaking demurely along, was a small black dog of the cur species, with decrepit tail, @ liberal crop of “whiskers” and that air of careless abandon so often seen in the tramp species of both the human and the brate family. ‘The bulldog spied him. “Aha!” said he, “there's an easy game. T'll just take a fall out of that fellow.’ “And without more ado Bully across the street, fell on the other dog like a thousand of brick,and, cheered on by hix master, he proceeded to do up that little dog in just the way Mitchell says he'll do. Sullivare And then that little dog with the whiskers and the air of ubandon woke up. He grabbed Bully by the throat and downed him, bit a hunk out of his neck, and then a large portion of Bully’s nose disappeared in the fracas. By that time Bully’s master interfered and saved his pet from total annihilation. ‘The little dog, still mure, licked his chops, suiled broadly and trotted on off up the was taken home for repai plain: Don't judge of a book by its cover. ———_o-—____ A Puzzling Afterthought. ‘Two years ago Chicago drummer stopped at Decatur, Ala., and while sitting on the broad ‘Net a Real Mongoose, and That is Why It Mischief. effect that the said mongoose was going to be imported to this country under the auspices of the Department of Agriculture. In fact, such a plan had been suggested by certain cranks, who believed that mongooses could be utilized for destroying gophers and field rate in the west. Unfortunately, wherever the mongoose has been tried it has proved a horrible pest, being very prolific and vastly destructive to poultry, ae. On the Monday after the article referred to was printed Secretary Rusk reached the de- partment in his usual cheerful frame of mind. ‘The first six letters referred to his attention by his private secretary contained protests from various individuals against the importation of the mongoose aforesaid, the proposition in re- spect to which they had read about in the news- papers. This being the first intelligence that Unele Jerry had received in regard to the fect alleged to be his own, he felt annoyed. Nor were his feelings at all soothed when the post. man arrived a few minutes later with a second batch of similar communications on the mon- The next mail included very little be- ides mongoose correspondence, and #0 ft con- tinued through the day. fresh epistles om the same subject coming in by the dozen every hour or #0. By 2 o'clock in the afternoon the Secretary was in @ condition of acute exasperation, Whence, he demanded, had this astounding re- port originated? The chiefs of the various di- visions were called in and interrogated. From the head of the bug burean to the director of bacteriological research, all expressed them- selves as entirely mystified. The customary calm of the department was deeply disturbed, and the gloom which had extended itself from the building over most of the flower beds in ite vicinity was even perceptible to the writer of the mongoose story himself as he approached and entered the red brick structure at the end of 13th street at about the hour above men- tioned. Having ascertained what was the matter, he thought it best to go at once to Mr. Rusk and to explain to him that, if an error had been made, he, the newspaper man, bad com- mitted it without intention, The Secretary, though decidedly angry, was molliied by the voluntary confession ot the guilty party, and, beginning for the first time fo nee the humorous side of the affair, lnughed very heartily over it. Probably he would not have been so ready to forgive had he known what was going to follow. Incidentally he asked the newspaper man how many papers the an- nouncement respecting the proposed i tion of the mongoose bad appeared in. When informed that it had been printed in twelve im- rtant journals all the way from Boston to rtland, Ore., he exclaimed: ‘Good gracious! T shall be getting mongoose letters for the next fortnight.” To correct the mistake ws far as possible he directed Mr. Hill, chief of the edi- torial division, td send a short paragraph to the Associated Press and United Pres for publica tion everywhere. The order to this effect was given in the presence of the newspaper man. The next day, and for severai days after that, the Secretary examined the newspapers for the purpose of finding thix paragraph denying the Mongoose report. He could not discover it anywhere. Finally, after indulging in some Cogitation on the subject, he summoned Mr. Hill and spoke to him about the matter, asking hhim what he supposed bed become of the graph. Mr. Hill replied that it must have crowded out of the papers to which it was sent, This response caused Mr. Rusk to smile # sar- castic smile. “Mr. Hill,” he said, “you are green—very green. You cannot teli me what bas become of that paragraph, but I know. It has not oc- curred to yoa to imagine what that emooth- tongued young man who contessed his respon- sibility for the mongoose report did when he left here the other day. I will tell you whut he did. He went right down to the offices of the Associated Press and United Press and had that paragraph of denial, which necessurily reflected Upon his accuracy, quietly but effectually killed. It was never sent out over the wires, and that is the reason why it has never appeared in the a is suggestion struck Mr. Hill as exceedingly plausible. Desiring to find out if he had been #0 green ax the Secretary suggested he took ins to go to the United Press und Associated Press and look up the facts. Fortunately the happy idea of having the paragraph of denial iilled had mot occurredto to mnlod of the mewe- per man. He ought to have thought of it, ut he didn’t. At all events Mr. Hill obtained ample evidence that the ph hud been duly sent out by wire. But it had happened that there was a great crowd of matter on the same night, and +0 it had only got into two or three papers, This was a proud vindication for the unjustly sus Meanwhile the mongoose business bad ren- dered itself a nuisance of most gigantic propor- tions to the department. Every day, by every mail, there was a flood of mongoose letters. Some of them asked for information on the eub- ject respecting the intentions of Mr. Rusk in detail as to the importation of the mongoose— when it would arrive, how it could be pi gated successfully, what sort of an animal it was, whether a mammal or a bird, what was the correct plural of it, 4c. Most of the communi- cations, however, assailed the dey t in unqualified terms for contemplating anything #0 ou as the introduction of this abom- inable beast to America.which it was soon likely to render uninhabitable. So voluminous did the correspondence become that it required the exclusive attention of a clerk. Finally, Mr. Rusk called in Dr. Merriam, chief of the divie- ion of mammalogy, and told him that he must take the mongoose business in charge. “Mr. Secretary,” replied Dr. Merriam, “I am very busy at present with my report on the ‘Seals of 4 ” Lean do one of two things. I can give up the seals and devote myself to the mongoose, or vice versa, but it is impossible to do both.” Up to the present moment mongoose letters | te: are continuing to flow into the department. They form a considerable feature of its corre- spondence. Nine out of ten of them are of the sort already described, but about one in every ten is more aggravating than all the rest, com- ing from some person who proposes to raise mongooses as soon as he can get a pair to begin with. Nota few offer to te mongooses for the government and sell them to Uncle Sam at a reasonable price for distribution where they are needed. However, the climax arrived the other day when announcement wasmade of an expected cor ment of mongooses from the Hawaiian Inlunds, where, by the way, the animals have been ‘enormously destructive. The importation had been directly inspired by the unforgunate newspaper article. Luckily, the collector of the port of San Francisco knew a thing or two himself about mongooses. He referred the matter to the governor of Califor- nia, and the latter wrote to the Secretary of the Treasury at Washington on the subject. The Secretary of the ad an inquiry to the Secretary of Agriculture, to knew whether those mongooses should be ad- mitted. Mr. Rusk responded with a most em- to land, but the trouble about the , While his o; it | was, ‘Aud the moral is Phati® negative. They will certainly not be pe mongoose is by no means over yet, and it affords an illustration of the mischief which may be done by a false report circulated inno- cently and without intention, through « misun- all knew of his love of books and the varied He Posseeses Many of the Gifts Which Have ‘Made His Relative Famous. Keokuk Letter in Chicago Tribune. On @ par with the old sw that lightning never strikes twice in the ame place is the statement that genius never appears twice im the same family. If this be the rule nature rus pended it in the case of the family to which Mark Twain belongs. The humorist bas « brother who certainly hae pronounced elements of genius, and had the circumstances of his life heen such as to develop these elements Samue Clemens would have had to look out pretty sharply for his laurels, Orion Clemens ie just ten years older than his famous brother, but im spite of this the resemblance between the two men is striking. They have the same general contour of feature, the same thick, waving hair and much of the same expression. And vet their greatest difference expression. The ‘one has the air of the successful author and busy man of the world; the other is the typical absent-minded scholar. “Orion always was the most forgetful be often complained the me “HT for a pail of water he whe just as I back and tell me he couldn't to bring me a pail of chips But the wife of this son bas bad q! as muc lain of is sent mindedn is nothing i heard that there ng married life in the Journey the voung husband went d ttle bis bill, leavang his wife upstairs ‘8 few last things their trunk. While vf for the travelers, While walking up and down the comted by a friend. wine kod y what?” wad the amit, we after his wife. “My much astonished as though he had been asked where his great grandmo' ‘* aunt was e sure,” was the reply. the bbnde- on, “1 lett %* into @ur trunk, four moons of J gyoom eried in eudden const. her trying to get my new be and IL reckon she is at it y In relating this story Mr. Clemens says itis & great saving to his feelings to lower the dr curtain at just this point on the de tr of his wedding tour. Not long since Mr. Clemens dropped into meeting of a literary club of which be is mom ber. A continuous rain had left the «tree state of mud and «lop his good wife bad reminded him to legs of his trousers. So he gave generous roll.and walked into the woman's parlor where the club was entertained with his trou» ere above his shoe tops. All evenin he was oblivious to the fact, when ju ri journment he caught «ight of bis feet, mad sudden dive that startled the said alond: “My goodnes gracious! told me to turn my pants down as soon ax I got here and I forgot all about it. I am evidently ® pant-loon.” ¢ minds of the two brothers move in «imi- lar veins of humor. Orion Clemens was called upon in a public meeting not long ago to ive its idens concerning the adviesbllits'ef baila. ch. He rose slowly and said hen Iwas a boy I was very much afraid of « switch, but now that Tam a man I think one is pretty good thing to have.” At one time Mr. Clemens was clerk of the church which he attends. Not being much af new man his books got into » hopelem tangle. So he took them to the anditor,who was also cashier of a bank, to get the books straight ened out. The next time the two gentlemen met the auditor said: “Mr. Clemens, how @e you keep books, anyway? “Oh, that depends,” replied Mr, Clemens; “I keep them until the ome after and if they don’t com :Lmean bow do you inquired the anditor. kx? Well, I put down every= thing that I pay out and trast to my memory for everything that is pai Auditor, if you ever bank books fast feel pes on me an is call will help you square up your ae he same At another mecti the literary club al- ready mentioned, at whieh the subject under discussion was “Oratory,” Mr. Clemens his audience in convulsions of Inughter by giv ing them examples of the oratory and orators that be had heard in his lifetime. Those em amples ranged from the impassioned utters ances of the civil war to the debate in the coume try school on “Resolved: That the bromn is more useful than the dish rug.” One exam- ple ran like this: “The red man has beon pushed from pillar to post, from mountain to valley, from river to river and luke to lake, until the Pacific yawns for him.” * com: mented Mr. Clemens in that inexpressible Mark Twain drawl, “I can't see, nor vou can't see, why the Pacific should yawn for those Inéians, Tam well acquainted with the Indian, and al- thongh I know his reputation for laziness t great, yet I'can vouch for it that up to dave he — so lazy that be cannot yawn for bim- self.” Mark Twain's brother rivals him in conver- sational powers, and at almost every turn, upon almost any subject, there ix a ot humor that fastens hix thought to hix mind just es swiftly as the beam of ligbt in- on a sensitive plate, In . for instance, Mi champion butcher.” He characterize: William the Conquerer as being “the greatest’ gambler in corner lote that ever struck English soil.” He disposes of Chicago anarchists in thi way “Better hang those men. Nothing discourages @ man like banging.” Mr. Clemons make some modest claim to being a poet. rhymes easily and correctly, and bis vere bas that le accentuation in it thet made so famous Mark Twain's literary nightmare, “Punch, Brothers, Punch.” The lines were written for « tableau of civilization in an ame ar ce. The savage learned a better way Whea © taurht him how to. a No soldier han: _ oak to better fate, They teach the heathen at our side, ‘he scalping knife to cast aside Streurth bef Savage inan redeeiued? cieccten ate Sa Prom the Chicago Datly News Ke ord. The word “‘corker” is much abused one, fer the reason that ite real meaning is unknown t© the vast ity of those who use the word. It iw derived the French word “corquer, and that comes from the Latin “corcare, which, in turn, was born of the Greek word “ork,” fying “‘incomparnble one.” Throughout the Homerian epics the whom we call Venus is referred to as Venus the corker, and the epithet a+ originally. applied seemed to imply not only natural and inheremt qualition, but also shining and distingumbed ts — personal and intellectual attractions, charms, gifts and arcs. Our by the ribald usage of the pro- has come to imply « certaim ‘of consequences, so that when one another as corker the inde accom beauty, word, fanels disregard speaks of therefrom that he who is designated as Scorker must, necesmarily be u sort of well