Evening Star Newspaper, June 3, 1893, Page 8

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C, SATURDAY, JUNE 3, 1893—EIGHTEEN PAGES. SOME NEW DODGES. The Government Annoyed by a New Device for Defacing the Currency. SCHEMES TO ROB WORKMEN. Printed Advertisements Stuck Upon Stiver Dollars in Such a Manner That It .s Hardly Poss! to Wash or Scrape Them Of—De- TICKERS” ARE GIv- ing the government Jot of bother. They ‘are circular bits of pe- per, withadvertisements on the face and muci- lage on the back. Made by @ lick of the tongue to adhere to the reverse of a silver dollar one of these little plasters is by anybody save the individuals to whom it was originally paid. SIMPLY ROBBERY. development for this method of robbery. Buy- ing vegetables and other agriculturai products from the farmer, it pays him with merchandise in part, giving him the balance in scrip. Hi seed uses the latter as cash with which to his debts or for labor. Or, perhaps, if ‘0 settle with his hands, he applies re” for aloan, He obtains the «um in paper or metal tokens, which thus get into circulation. They havea market value cf maybe 75.cents on the dolar. Though the company dees rot bind itself to redeem its fat dollars in anything but merchandisa, it will sometimes cash them—always, however, at the usual rato of discount. Coe In short this system is simply an ingenious method of stealing from labor fifteen conts or upward ont of every dollar earned. The money thas confiscated goes into the pockets of the capitalist. Wherever shrewd men from the north and east have goue into the south and west and have started business enterprises they have found in thix private scrip scheme one of the readiest plane for accumulating dollars. Over wide sections of the United States the prosperity of the people hae been nipped by the frost of this most impudent of frands. In many instances the companies en- gaged in the swindle are content to conduct Just big enough to ft inside of the milled ever the country, suggests thet shopkeepers had better make haste to avail themselves gq this . novel method of advertising law is passed forbidding t. dollars with stickers on them iff ii z | i i FE F ‘ever with silver and ae it from ao real decept was curiously enhanced advertising a shoe jere this & €: i f H i if | i § iy i | £ ! Pa [ f HI f f Wy | 5 1 i t it t th e ° tr e i f i i i i i I i A Ee : dj i y f Fe ii if nf f F 4 i i i Fl é i I i T r i I Md tl BASS | | BE i f i} | 5F I i Pe Y j [ : ; [ H factory profit. With these facts in view, it will eo hares toleck sharpty os ase Sena stranger uses for “matching.” PRIVATE MONEY, But the evil which canses the most bother to the treasury just now is the system of paying for labor with paper-scrip and metal tokens of sprivate issue. This form of abuse bas spread such an extent as to menace the prosperit; “of the people over a large part of the country, In the south and west it is particularly bad. Tt 4 @ fi.ancial contrivance employed by capital to grind the faces of the poor. How far it has progressed may be Judged from the fact that 180,000 worth of such flat money is in use in two counties of Colorado, where it has almost een the government currency out of circu- tion. Suppose, for example, that a moneyed man Min Alabama wishes to'startasaw mill. Ho Duilds the mill and at the same time sets up jand stocks # supply store with all the ordinars aries. ife—provisions, household furniture, liquors, tc. If such an enterprise Were inaugurated in New York state the prp- prietor would expect to invest $10,000 or so in wages before returns began to com But this person's method is vastly better more economical from his point of view. Hehires | jas many men as he wants and pays them not in *eash, but in orders on the store. These orders | are fn the shape of scrip, having an appearance ‘somewhat like money or of metal disks, serv- | ‘dng the purpose of cwins. ‘Cader thie <yetem the Saturday night pay | envelope of the honest working man contains €i5, say, not in greenbacks or silver, but in ip or metal tokens reprenenting value in ex- ebange for gocds at his employer's “store.” To somo extent he can dispose of them elsewhere fa lieu of eush-—at the blacksmith’s the plumv- ex's and the mitk dealer's—but only at a dis-| count which ranges in different localities all the | way from 15 cents to 50 cents on the dollar. Of | course, those who accept this “money” must trade it off atthe “store.” Prices at that es- tablishment are very much bighe: then— often 50 per cent above—the rates in open market. Nevertheless the de- ) fenseless hireling mast submit to the extortion. | often he ix forbidden, on penalty of im- mediate discharge, to «pend any of his earn- ings elsewhore. This rule is strengthened by advertisements, warning all persons that Bis “store” will not reaoguise serip presented their mills or other industries without any direct gain, relying on the “store” to yicld « satisfactory profit, In other words the pro- prietors prosper by sucking the blood of their employes. scrip has various forma. Perchance the man who works for $15 a week will receive on Saturday night three cards that look like cheap restaurant commutation tickets, representi S5 each. Pigures from 610.50 are printed around the margin. These stand for cents and are tobe punched out in payment for pur- el made at the ‘store. The holder cannot possibly spend this “money”. any- where else. But, even if he gets his wages in the ordinary scrip, occasions arise when be is desperately put to it for ready cash, to liquidate & doctor's bill for his baby, or what not. Insuch a case he goes toa man who is known to make a business of purchasing the flat currency. The latter, who secretly “stands in” with the company, buys it at a big discount and saves out just so much to the owner of the mill or mine. Another shape taken by the cheat is the so- called “certincate,” which, as its inscription reads, “will be accepted in’ payment for mer- chandise if presented before July 1, 1898.” Here is a time limit. If by an accident thedate is passed the paper is worthless. A great scheme truly is this by which an employer can mannfacture his own money for paying his workmen. One concern at Arkadelphia, Arkan- sas, distributes from $5,000 to $8,000 worth of metal checks every month. Such checks are usually round disks about the size of a silver dollar; but their jingle in the breeches pocket ‘different ring from that of the coins stamped by Uncle Sam. A transfer company at Anniston, Alabama, with an advertised capital of $50,000, pays off its men every Saturday with brass and nickel pieces the aise of dollars, halves and quarters. SHOULD BE STOPPED. There is need for immediate legislation against this system by which unprincipled capital is enabled to grind down the poor. The evil has reached a protty bad point when it is found to have made {ts way into obaritable state insti- tutions. At the Home for Disabled Volunteer jous plan. The broken wn veterans are not permitted to draw a Renny of their wages before they are due, but yy can always get them in advance in the of socalled “‘chips” of brass, good for 5 conte ay at the “store” or at the “beer hall’ me. The inevitable result is that the average old ensloner has about 50 cents coming to him at first of the month, $9.50 being subtracted tokens drawn and expended. this scheme the management secures all of the veterans’ trade and excellent profits on the beer aud id at the “store.” It in the excep- old soldier who ie able to resist the temp- thus offered to him. This matter has tly been brought to the attention of the secret service at Washi mm, through the fact that the brass “chips” got into circulation outside of the home, being offered for Deor as far away as Chicago. They bear some resemblance to nickels, being of the seme size and having a figure five surrounded by stars on one side. Orders were vent to the of the institution to call in the tokens at once. Now he writes to ask if he may asquare hole in each of them and use shape. He says that the veterans them to United States money. OTHER scEMES. Agood many people, without a notion of would not hesitate to pass for in that ‘vastly poeter piece for a dime. mitentiary the to make the equivalent of a cent—and was send- ing out children to spend them. Another man was railroaded to prison for making and selling counterfeits of rare coins long out of circula- tion—the George Clinton cent and the Mary- jand penny. A specimen of the former is worth $250, only five being extant, The records of the secret service show that one form of crime, namely. the “raising” of United States notes and certificates from small denominations to higher ones, has considerably diminished of late. This isdue to no other cause than the arrest uf a notorious expert in this kind of work, who has done more of it than anybody else known to the government detectives. He arrosted a year ago in Denver, but got swar an¢ was not heard from for seven months. At the end of that time he wrote from Moztana. over the pseudonym of Westlake, to a manvifacturer, ordering some tools of the sort needsd in the practice of his peculiar industry. The manufacturer smelled a mouse and com- municated with Chief Drummond of the secret service. The latter made the surmise a cer- tainty by comparing the handwriting of West- lake's letter with other writing by the escaj criminal, which was preserved in the office. ‘The long-sought jailbird was found working in a mine and was promptly sentenced to fifteen years in the penituntiary. Rez Bacaz. ——_+o2-_—___—. ‘Written for The Evening Star. June Roses. O, the dark red roses of June, They drooped and they faded too soaal ‘Tey gave us of Eden a gieam, And passed like a beautiful dream. ©, roses, June roses, so red, Fit crowns for the heroes that bled, Uplifting their faita above life— Pacing death for children und wife ‘Sweet roses, ye gladdened my sight, ‘When catidhood was cloudless and bright; And long days ye lingered for me, ‘When my soul and my senses were free. In the backward abysm of years, Isee ye, my eyes filled with tears, Your beauty and fragrance have fled, ‘Ye cumber the graves of my deadi Frederick, Md. a A Situation Wanted Now. From the Detroit Free Press. Mr. —— has a new office clerk who was reo- ommended to him by the ladies of the W. U. T. U. for his stcict temperance principles, which were exactly in accord with those of ‘Mr. —— himself. “Peters,” said Mr. —— to the new man yes- terday morning. “take some money from the drawer and go out and buy me a whisk.” Trimmed or plain, sir?’ asked Peters, with ‘& glad, joyous look in his eyes. “Plain. of course; the plainer the better— something solid and substantial.” Peters was gone about half an hour. When he returned he carried a big, thick tumbler in his band full of dark red liquid. His voice sounded as if he had caught cold. “Here's your whisk.” said Peters, setting the concoction down suddenly in front of Mr. —. “Good heavens, man, what is this?” “Whisk, whisk, that’s what,” said Peters, mysteriously. Bu da whisk broom.” “Why didn’t sha sno? Thought it was "brevia- tion for whisky. Nemmer tind, it won't be Wasted,” and he swallowed it on the spot Peters is again looking for @ place. ae The First Patient. From the Fliegen le Blaetter. Yeung Dr. Meyer is sitting in a crowded tavern. Enter Johann, his servant, who says in @ loud voice: “Oh, doctor, come ho patient waiting for y Then be whispers to the doctor's ear: “I have locked the front door so he can’t got away.” W. HP. at once; there is a | t | MOTHER AND SON. j But the money-issuing company finds a wider WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY GEO. B. SIMs. ADAME D’ARGIVAL was the dearest old Indy in the world. She war a little old lady and well Preserved, and moved about nimbly still, ai- though she was past sixty,and she could read without glasses, Everybody in Soho know Madame D'Argi- val and her husband, Monsieur D'Argival. ‘They had lived ia the same house, in the same street, for forty years, Moasieur D'Argival had lived there even longer than that, for ithad been his father’s house, ‘and his isther had died there, and it was from that house that Monsieur D’Argival, thon a handsome young man of thirty, set out one fine day for Boulogne and returned in a few weeks, bringing with him his young ‘bride—his cousin Marie. to whom he had been betrothed almost since they were children. ‘They were a happy young couple then, and they were a happy old couple now. They had had everything to make them happy. Monsieur D'Argival followed bis father’s profession; he tanght the violin. His father had « splendid connection, and his son inherited it. | ‘The Pupils even preferred the son to the father. in the first place he was cleverer, then he was more patient, and he was ever so much more agreeable. Ail the young ladies who took les- sons of Monsieur D’Argival, fils, declared that he was “‘a dear,” and when they were intro- duced to the young wife they unanimously pro- nounced her to be ‘‘sweet.”” The husband and wife retained their charm- ing characters through life, and when they fin- ally gave up business, having amassed s nice little fortune, which would enable them to live comfortably for the rest of their days, Monsieur D'Argival was “sa dear old gentleman,” and Madame D'Argival was ‘a sweet old lad; Fortune had smiled upon them in the pro- fession (the wife was an excellent musician and took pupils as well as husband), their pupils had turned out well, and the little con- certs they gave occastonally had always been well patronized and profitable. And then, you see, they had never been ex- travagant. They found their happiness in their home and in each other's society, and when, after fifteen years of married life, a child was st last born to them, their happiness was com- plete. They lived not only for each other now, but for their boy, the little Claude. They toiled for him, they saved for him, they worshiped or was there a boy born into the world so beautiful as their boy, so loving as their boy, #0 good as their boy, and some day, when. the; were old and their time came to go hence an be no more seen, Claude would have everything. So they lived on in the little home in Soho, living the simple life of a French bourgeois <<, Every morning Madame D'Argival might be seen with her bonne, the excellent Lise, going from shop to shop ‘and doing the daily marketing, and all the neighbors had cheery “bonjour” and a for D'Argival. And when little Claude was old enough ho joined the little party, and that was always morning promenade. Holding his mother's hand, the little fellow trotted gaily by her side, while Lise, carrying the basket, walked respect- fully behind. By and by, when the boy grew older, Mon- sieur D'Argival suggested that he should be sent to a good English school, and that after- ward he should go to a college in France, but Madame D’Argival wonld not hear of it. She could not bear to be parted from her boy, and her husband, who yielded to her im all things, yielded to her in that. He hada gov. erness at home, and then a master at hoi and soit came about that he never left his mother's side. Some of the French boys in the neighborhood chaffed him @ little as he grew older. They said that he was tied to his mother’s apron strings, aud as he was a shy boy and hated ridicule he made few friends, and failed to pick up even that knowledge of the world which a boy can gather from his playmates, ‘There were others besides the little French bors who thought that Claude was likely to become # mollyeoddle if he was kept too much at home. Every Sunday evening Monsieur and Madame D’Argiva! had « few friends to There was M. Courtin, the French grocer from Old M. Hogard, the French book- jer Square; M. Garnier, the violinist, who for twenty years had always bees in the ‘orchestra at the Italian opera, and Madame David, who had made a fortune in the little French hotel at the bottom of the street in which the D’Argivals lived and retired to Bayswater. There were other ladies and gen- tlemen occasionally, but those were the main guests on Sunday ‘evenings, and the “oldest friends of the family.” M. Hogard had been Clande’s godfather and Madame David bis godmoth nd so it was no presumption on their part occasionally to offer the parents advice concerning him. laude is getting a big boy,” said M. Hogard. “It is high time he went little away from home. What do you say, Madame David?” “Lagree with you,” said Madame David. is not good for boys to be always with their mothers. They should learn something of the world that is outside their home.” When these conversations occurred Monsieur D’Argival would look across at his wife and say: “You hear what our friends say, my dear; are they not right: But Madame D’Argival would look sad and say that it would break her heart to part with the bo: nd, besides, the world was so wicked. t8o much that was evil away from and then the tears would come in her yyes, and she would plead that at least he should not be sent away for a little while longer, not till he was older aud stronger and more able to take care of himself. ‘The conversation was resumed many times as the years went on, but always with the same re- sult. The mother had always some excuse, and she always won the day. Monsieur Claude grew up such a bright, clever young fellow that at last the opposition was silenced. There was no need for him to go away, for ho had com- pleted his education at home, and he was now a young man. When the question of leaving home and the watchful eye of his mother was raised anew, it was from quite an unexpected quarter. It was Claude himself who made the sugges- tion. His education was complete, his parents had given up teaching and were living on the interest of their savings. He thought that it was time he did something for himwelf. He wasn’t musical, so he couldn't teach, but he was a fine linguist, and was excessively cle at figures. A position had been offered bim- a good position—and he thought he ought not to refuse it. Madame D'Argival was horrified. She was about to protest, but M. Hogard was present (it, at one of the little Sunday dinner parti that the conversation took place) and broke in, “The boy is right,” he exclaimed, “and I will be frank with you, my deur old friends. It is I who am to blame for putting this idea into Claude's head.” “You!” exclaimed Monsieur D’ Argival. “Yex—you see, I am interested in » big con- cern which is being started in Paris. It will be splendid thing, Tam sure. We have to ap- pint a secret 1 was asked if I knew of a young man of good position who spoke French and English thoroughly, and I at once thought ot my godson. I sent for Claude; we had a little talk. He would hke to take the post. It is a fine opening for him, Ican tell you, and I think if you don’t let him go you will be stand- ing in his light. He is two and twenty, you know, and you can’t expect him to live always at home much longer.” bs Madame D'Argival burst into tears. What was she to do if her son went to Paris? Paris was so far away, and Patis was so wicked. M. Hogard endeavored to reassure the good mother. Eden, ‘but was London? One capital was as wicked as the other, and, after all, what did it matter? Claude wasn't « wicked young fellow. He was no more likely to fall into temptation or kick over the traces in Paris than in London. M. D’Argival supported his friend. Madame David, alas, could not be invited to give her opinion. She had been dead these two years. Madame D’Argival asked for the night to think about it, and, thinking about it,she was still wide awake when the next morning came. But she had brought herself to see that after all what M. Hogard said was true. Sooner or later Claude must leave the nest. She could not expect him now that he was a grown-up man to be always with her, and she had no right to stand in his way when there was a fine chance of his making a position in the world for himself. And so at last, with tears which she vainly tried to hide in ber loving eyes, she consented, and Claude was duiy introduced to the syndi- cate who were going to run their big affair in Paris, and was accepted as secretary. The ‘preliminaries were soon arranged. Claude was to havea nice salary to commence a 1° twas the misti Paris_wasn't exactlya Garden of | g1 with, and a percentage on the business done, ‘There wae just one little formality to be com- plied with. ‘Large cums of money would pass through the young man’s hands, and naturally the syndicate would require a guarantee—that is, some one would have to be security for him for the sum of 100,000 francs, ‘There was no difficulty about that. It was a mere matter of form. His father and M. Ho- gard would be security for the amount between them. matter being duly arranged,Claude busied himself in preparations for his dept ture, and in the excitement of getting every- thing ready for her son Madame D'Argival al- most forgot her grief. At last the day when the first adieu was to be spoken errived, It was the first time in their lives that msther and son had been separated for more than a few houra. Claude bad deter- mined to be brave for his mother’s sake, but when they stood on the platform and the guard came along and said, “Now, sir, please, we're going,” he broke down, and as he flung his arms around his mother's neck he cried like » child. The old lady broke down at that, you may be sure, and then Monsiour D'Argival be- gun to cry, too, and the guard, who stood with the door open waiting for Claude to get into the carriago,‘was 60 moved by their grief that he told another guard afterward that if it hadu’t been that tkey were @ minute behind time and the station master's eye was on him he should have had to sed a tear himself. Claude put bis head out of the window and waved his handkerchief as the train moved slowly out of the station; then he sat back in the carriage and wiped his eyes and thought his heart would break. But by the time he got to Dover the excitement of this great and mar- velous change in his life had begun to banish all other thoughts, and when he landed at Calais he had forgotten the past and was dream- ing dreams of the future. t the poor old couple went home sorrow- fully together, and that night it seemed to them that a great darkness had fallen on their home, and the light had faded out of their lives forever. . Two a ee ears went by, and during that two years Claude came home twice. The D’Ar. givals bad lived long enough in England to acquire » few English customs, and they had come to look upon Christmas as’ their English neighbors did and to treat it as the festival of home. It was Christmas time that Claude chose for his home coming. His tetters wore always very affectionate and very hopeful. The concern was going well—not so wellashad been hoped, but still money was being made. The working showed a small profit, and the syndi- cate believed that with time complete success would result. They were satisfied with Claude, and were convinced that he was clorer, and that the disappointment was not due to him. The first time Claude returned his mother's quick eye detected many changes in him. He Jooked older—more thoughtful and serious, and there was a worried look in his eyes’ that shocked her. He explained that the cares and anxieties of house were very great, and M. Hogard bore him out, and his mother had to be satixfied. ‘The second time that he came ov ‘own careworn, and his father was looked perfectly ill. But the mother the pain of seeing the alteration in her son's face. The first great grief of their life had been the parting with their son; the second reat grief had now come upon them. Madame D’ Argival had complained for some time of her sight. She hadat last consulted an oculist and he had told her the truth. There wasadanger of her going blind. Tho oculist told the old lady that there was danger—he told her husband that there was aceriainty. It was but a ques- tion of time, Poor old M. D'Argival was broken hearted when he knew the worst, and he cried out against the cruel fate which threatened to darken the world to his dear old wifo in her oes ye God oven in thi When Claude came home for the second Christmas his mother could scarcely see him. Her sight was fading fast, But like the brave old lady that she was she would not let her affiction make others unbappy. | Rhe was bright and oheerful as ever, and, holding her dear son's band in hers, when they were alone, she told him that she forgot all else in her gratitude for his love and his suocess. Old Monsieur much upset by C look. in her pride at ’Argival, however, was very ude's haggard and careworn He asked his won anxiously if there wero roubles on his mind. Claude answered him that there were not and attributed his health to overwork and the responsibility of the big business in Paris, which made such slow headway. “I think the worst is over now,” he said, tr ing to reassure his father. “The prospect is brighter than it had ever been, and if things ouly mend a little there'll bo ‘no more talk of winding the affair up.” “Winding it up!” exclaimed his futher; “has it come to that?” “Well, the directors have been talking about it, They don’t take-euch a hopeful view of Ido, and this fear there is likely to position to us—an opposition with more capital. The directors saf it will be bet- ter to wind up now and save the capital. ‘This was u revelation to the old man and e} plained to him his son's anxiety. “Never mind, Claude,” he said, “if you lose this situation you can always come home, my yy. ‘Thank God, there is enough for us all.” Claude gripped his father’s hand silently and said on the subject. In two days he bade his parents farowell and went back to Paris. And now the truth must betold. Claude had not told it to his father, and not even the di- rectors suspected 1t. Brought up in a home atmosphere, rarely away from his mother, the young man had not had proper training ‘to enable him success- fully to encounter the temptations of life. In Paris he was his own master, and be was thrown on his own resources, It was all a now world to him, and he did as hundreds of young men inasimilar situation have done—he be- came the easy prey of the first fair temptress who crossed his path. He fell madly in love with a beautiful adven- taress well-known in the Paris half-world. A girl who had been in the ehorus of an 0} Bouffe theater, aud who, when Claude met her, of an old stockbroker. Claude was a handsome young fellow, and Anastasia La Dous, generally known as La Bell Bordelaise, was rather proud of her conquest She fooled the young man to the top of hiy bent and soon had himather mercy. Wor protector soon after falling a victim to over-speculation, Anastasia found herself free from incumbrance aud listened readily to Claude's proposition that sho should allow him to como to the rescue and present her with a new home. It was the old story—the young man fell com- pletely into the power of the siren, and ber word became his law. To gratify her ‘extrava- gant habite he sacrificed everything but honor, and at last, when it became a question of ber leaving him unless he found means to surround her with greater luxuries, he sacrificed honor, too. He made use of money which was at his command—the money belonging to his employ- ers. Ho began by embezzling « small sum, and then went on until he was involved to the ex- and had to to conceal pounds, resort to various in his delinquencies. At last the crash came. The syndicate de- termined to wind up the business, and then discovery was inevitable. It came sooner than Claude had anticipated, and while he was at his mistress’ apartments one evening, vainly on- deavoring to persuade her to fly with him to tent of many hundreds of artifices Spain, agent entered and informed him that be was in custody on a charge of om- bezzlement, When M. Hogard hoard the news his first thought was for the old father and mother. “It will kill them.” he cried; ‘it will kill them-—the boy of whom they were so proud. thiet—thelr boy in prison—oh, it is too terri- le.”* ‘Tho news had to be broken to the father by some one, for he was a guarantor, and the com- pany would come down on him sooner or later for bis share. “Better the news should be broken by a friend,” said M. Hogard, and off he went on his sorrowful errand. Grasping his old friend’s hand and begging him to have courage, the kind old grocer stam- mered out his tale, At first M. D'Argival stared at him blankly. He couldn't understand what he meant. But jually he realized the truth, and then it ‘to him that the world had come to an end. “My Claude,” he sobbed, ‘my poor boy—in prison—ah—iet me go to him.” ‘M. Hogard shook his head sorrowfully. “No, no, old friend,” he said, “you can do no good over there. ¥. here. You must stay and comfort your wife. “Yes,” exclaimed M. D’Argival, starting up, “you are right. She needs me more than ever ‘And she never did. M. D’Argival paid the guarantee—he paid the whole amount for which he was liable, insisting that Claude was his son and he could not allow hus old friend to lose by bis family—certaunly it Was his place to pay the guarantes. M. Hogard protested, but when he called fo protest the money “bed been paid aud M. D'Argival refused to receive one farthing back again. He could not give the company back the whole of the money Claude had embezzle? It ras not in bis power todo so. To live aud to support his wife he would have to give lessons look up bis old p and get new ones. He knew it would be a hard task, for he was old and feeble now and almost past his work. But he could do something--he could a little. Claude was tried and convicted, but a power- ful plea for mercy was made on his bebalf and he was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment o ‘Then began the terrible task of deceiving the old blind mother. She inquired perpetually about her boy. What did he write—-how was he getting on? ‘Then Mi. D'Argival and M. Hogard between them made up letters which M. D'Argival read aloud to bis wife—cheery, comforting letters, saying all was well and that Claude hoped to come home again next Christmas. Christmas came and then an excuse had to be inveated. ‘The mother bad looked forward to it 80 anxiously—she was always talking of it. Claude would be home again—she would be able to take is dear face in her hands and press her kiss upon his ly Every hopeful word uhe spoke was as the tab of'a sharp knife in the heart of her hus- He let her gu cn hoping until Christmas ave, then he read her a letter from Claude. The boy hoped his mother would bear up, but he oad just received good news. He had received a splendid pyar in Algiers—far better than the one he had in the company, but he had to start for his post at once. and so by would have to send mother a loving mes- wage and beg her to let the knowledge of his good fortune soften tho blow of not seeing him this Christmas time. He would be sure tocume next Christmas, and perhaps before. For the sake of her boy the mother bore her sorrow and was brave, ‘Tho two years went by, and the two old men continued their pious fraud. ‘The blindness of the mother prevented her seeing many changes about her—only now and then she detected the sadness in her husband’s voice. He told her that he was grieving because she was blind and Claude was tar away, and then she forgot her own trouble and tried to comfort him. And at last Claude was free. It was Christ- mas time, and he was coming home. He was to be liberated just before Christmas day. “He is coming,” cried the old father joyfully to his wife. ‘Ah, my darling, all your patieng Waiting is rewarded. Your boy is coming home again.” ‘He was to arrive on Christmas eve. Monsieur and Madame D'Argival sat up till midnight, and M. Hogard stayed with them to welcome the boy. He did not come. “He will come tomorrow,” they said. ‘bas been unable to start till the night mail” Christmas day came, and still no Claude. Christmas day passed. “He will come tomorrow,” said his father, Madame D’Argival went upstairs to bed,ai sightless eyes wore wet with tears all night. M. Hogard thought there must be something wrong. He started for Paris and went to the authorities, Claude had been released. M. Hogard said: ‘Yes, but he has not re- turned home. His old father and mother have expected him for three days.” The commissioner of police shrugged his shoulders. “Poor people,” he said; “I am sorry for them. They have a worthless son. Claude D’Argival on his release started for Brussels— his mistress, Anastasia Le Doux, is there—he has gone to join her.” M. Hogard went back with a heavy heart, What could be say—what could he do—how could he let the dreadful truth be known to those two fond breaking hearts at home? When he got back there was no need to lis to the poor old blind mother any more. She had died quietly in the night. In the early hours her husband had been awakened. She was holding out her arms. “Ah, Claude, my Claude,” she y have come at last. Thank God—thavk God hen she sauk back upon her pillow and ceased to breathe. God in His merey had given her supreme happiness in the hour of her death. be- lieved she had seen her son and she never knew the truth. Old D' Argival died not very long afterward. Claude D’Argival lived with his mistress for 4 few weeks and then she turned him out. When I last heard of him he bad sunk to the lowest depths, He was assisting Anastasia to eager her admirers and she was keeping m. ber —— STATE BAR ROOMS NOT POPULAR. Charleston Not in Favor of Taking Its Whisky “Omcially.” From the Charleston (8. C.) News and Courier, Now that the validity of the dispensary law is settled, for the time being, at jeast, public attention is beginuing to turn to the very per- tinent question of Charleston's chances of hav- ing # dispensary of her own. Some weeks ago two prominent reform politicians announced themselves as candidates for the position of Charleston dispenser and went busily about to procure the requisite signatures of freeholders to their petitions, butso far as could be learned they met with but indifferent success. Whether it was this experience or simply the fact that no one else in the city has a hankering after the loaves and fishes of “dis- peusary honors cannot be said, but so far as can be learned there are no new candidates for the position. It is entirely probable that there may be some persons who have a seeret leaning that way, and it is possible that that they have on the quiet taken a few steps toward pushing their candidacy, but that is all. Candidates are few and far between and are not working with much chance of success, ‘The business community will. of course, op. pose the establishment of a dispensary he: not that they mean to come out openly and make any fight over the matter, but it seems to be taken for granted that their influence will be against such an institution. It would, of course, be exerted for the most purt in at- tempting to persuade freeholders from signing any petition which might be wet afoot, ‘This does not appear to be necessary, however, as the frecholders themselves are showing no in- clination to sign any such documents, ft is re- ported that the only full-fledged petition which has been circulated in the city did not secure more than fifty signatures. This is, of course, not very encouraging to the candidate when be requires something over 700 names. This is how the matter stands at present, but there is a rumor in circulation to the effect that if the freebolders refuse to sign petitions for dispensaries the administration in- tends to take steps to have that clause stricken from the requirements of the bill. The story goes that » prominent politician of Charleston was in Columbia recently and discussed this subject with Gov. Tillman. The Charleston gentleman is ted to have said that there was very little chance of secur- ing the signatures of the freeholders of this city to anybody's petition for the place of dis- penser, an he remarked upon the fact that can- didates throughout the state appeared to be having considerable trouble in securing the people's indorsement. The report referred to then goes on to say that Gov. Tillmun said that if the freeholders refused to sign petittions for dispensaries it would become necessary to eall a special session of the legislature for the purpose of so altering the bill that the govermor would have the power to appoint dispensers for the several counties in the state. If there is any truth in this report it places anentirely new phase on the question. Few eople, however, place any great reliance in it. ‘he fact of the matter is that for some reason or other it is generally be red that there is very little love for the dispensary law in the hearts of the members of the administration. It became necessary to throw a bone of some kind to the prohibition vote, and the Evans bill was formulated, but even then it was passed because of the revenue which it promised to bring the state, rather than because of any affection which the powers that were had for the principles involved. It is thought, however, that the state author- ities are not going to run any risk of losing money by this dispensary experiment, and that they will see to it that the dispensaries are established by one means or another. If an extra session of the legisleture is required to make the law operative it is generally believed that it would be called accordingly. In the meantime there is no immediate prospect of the establishment of a state bar room in the city of Charleston. June. A:dewy kiss of fragrant lips Upon the budding roses’ tips; A shower of sunshine falling slow ‘Upon the Iily’s breast of snow; A touch of langour on the air, ‘A living poem every where; song of birds in sweet attune th earth and sky—and this is June. —W. J. Lampton in June Godey’s. —_——_+e+______ An Appreciated Introduction. From the Boston Transcript. ‘There is a story told of s man who in a dream meta stranger towhom he felt strongly at- tracted und was told that the interesting per- son was bimself ‘‘as he was to be three years hence.” This scrap of experience is charming even in a dream, and illustrates again that man who never is, always may be, blest by better ac- quaintance with himself.” MARRYING FOR MONEY. It is a Plan That Docs Not Pay, So Those With Experience Say. THREE MEN WHO DID IT AND THE TROUBLE THEY GOT INTO—ONE MARRIED THE DAUGHTER OF 4 RICH MAN WHO HAD NOTHING OF KER OWN—ANOTHER TOOK A WIDOW—THE THIRD FOUND 4 MOTHER-IN-LAW WHO WAS A TER- ROR. “Marrying for money doesn't pay,” said an old bachelor at the Platypus Club. “I have in my mind at this moment three men who did it. ‘The result in each instance was anything but happy. To begin with, there was a young friend of mine whom I will cail Jones. That was not his name, but it willdo as well. ‘The facts are true enough. His prospects weren't par- ticularly good, and he thought to better them by taking « rich girl into matrimonial partner- ship. “Now, such things work very differently here from the fashion abroad. Over there, when a Person with lots of stamps disposes of his danghter in marriage, he expects asa matter of course to give her something handsome in the shape of adot. But in this country your mil- lionzire recognizes no such obngatws. Par- ticularly if he has made his own fortune, he looks askance at any suitor who does not seem tobe in a fair way of accumulating means for himself. Unfortunately, it takes a good many years nowadays for a young man to get fairly started in the world. At the same time, this fact does not prevent him from wanting to got married, and he has a right tobe hopeful. “But your plutocrat is one of the biggest cobblestones on the road of true love, which never does run emooth, He is not in the least disposed to discount the future of «young man’s ambition. What he wante in the way o a husband for his daughter is a person who has already establiched himself. So the average otherwise eligible suitor who appears on the threshold of his dwelling is likely to be looked upon with scorn. He roughly ciasifies the aspiring youths of his daughter's acquaintance as ‘dudos’ and ‘fools.’ If one of them appeals for his consent, he looks him over from top to toe and says: ‘Well, is your income sufficient to support Alice if you marry her—I mean in the condition of life to which she has been accus- tomed: “Now, there is many an old maid who has to thank her father on just such an account for her condition of single biessedness. Husbands 14 | are scarce birds in these days, and it does not do to shoo them away too rudely. Midas does not usually take sideration the fact that isa partner- ship, and that it would be only fair for him to ut up ascertain amount of money for his Baughter's share in the matrimonial enterprise, In Europe, as I bave said, that is regarded as a matter of course, but here it is looked upon differently. 1d man thinks that be is fairly quit of all obligation to bis girl and to her subsequent family when he bas provided hor with a trousseau and paid for her wedding. It was just such a curmudgeon whose daughter vres married by Jones, of whom I was speak ny remember very well how everybody said that Jones was such a lucky fellow. He was marrying a‘rich girl.’ It was not inquired whether or no she had anything in her own right. Probably he had not any very definite notion on the subject. either. Perhaps he was in love with the giri, but, judging from the lavish expenditure into which he iaunched at the time of the wedding, Imm convinced that he cherished the delusion that wealth would smooth his path in lite from that time forward. The presents, of course, were numerous and elaborate—especially the jewels donated to the bride. The happy pair were united under e floral horseshoe, and there was quite an ex- tended account of the event in the newspapers. “am not fully acquainted with the details, but I know that the newly wedded couple re- turned from a fortnight’s honeymoon trip toa reity flat in town, About three months later jones was in difficulties. Certainsmall savings of his own were wholly exhausted and the rent of his apartment was not paid for the current month. came an eclaircissement. It came out that he had been living entirely be- yond his means, His salary was @1,500 a rear, with no particular prospects of advancement, while his expenses were at the rate of at least $5,000 per annum. This did not in- clude bilis for about $800, which his wife had already rau up at the milliner’s and dreesmaker's. She had been accustomed to imost unlimited luxuries ali of her life and she had no notion of economy. It was « rather desperate plight. There was only one thing to do, and Jones did it, He went to his father-in- law and made a clean breast of it, Did the old man offer to help him out of the serape? Not mi ‘That was not his style. inthe nad waa thig: Wi did you marry my dsughter if you bad not sufficient meané te. support her” Jones was naturally at a loss for areply. Asa matter of fact, he had bad some notion to the effect that Midas would provide for the girl in some that would render everything extremely comfortable. Ho might have replied that her father, having brought her up with all sorts of ex- pensive tastes, ought to be willing to pay for them. But such an argument would have been wholly unavailing. After indulging his spleen by uttering all the humiliating remarks which he could think of off-hand, the millionaire con- sented to make an allowance for his daughter, which ‘must be entirely separate and for her own exclusive use.’ Since then Jones has been scratching along in @ very poor sort of fashion, always in debt, because his wife has no notion of controlling ber fancies. She must have fino clothes, because papa always supplied her with plenty of them—even though ber children usuaily go shabby. the moral of the story is: Find out, when you marry a rich girl, whether she is actually going to briug you any money or not. If yes, it may not always be to your advantage. When ‘a wife has cash of her own she is very apt to feel so independent as to become saucy and unbearable, At all events, I have heard of more than one such ‘istance. Half a dozen years ago I was acquainted with a very pleasant young fellow whom I will call Robin- son, He was earning $18 a week in a broker's office. Ona number of occasions he coutided to me his feelings of disgust with life. There was no hope for him. he said, except to marry a rich girl He was decidedly good-looking, and I was not et all surprised when his engage- ment to a wealthy widow was announced. After they were married I called on them and found bride very agreeable, though a trifif gush- and unmistakably twelve or fifteen years older than her husband. “Robinson gave up his place in the broker's office. His circumstances seemed vastly im- proved, and yet he did not seem cheerful. While in former times very light-hearted, not- withstanding his occasional fits of grumps over his 4, he appeared after bis marriage all loomy and out of softs. One reason may have been want of occupation. after baving taken a little too much ine at the club one evening—a condition in which Ibad never seen him before—he con- feased to me that he was a hopeless slave. The widow kept him onan allowance, and nota very liberal one at that, In fact, he did not have as much to. spend on himself as when he hod been bachelor. What he did spend he was obliged most rigorously to account for. Being a man of rather weak ter, he never had the spirit to break the fetters which bound him, and I dare say that they hold him to this day. Yet other people used —_ to say that Robinson was @ lucky fellow when they saw the ex-broker’s clerk riding in a haud- some carriage and apparently living on the fat of the land. “But the saddest case I know of was that of Brown--I use a pseudonym, of course. Talk about your lucky fellows! Why, everybody said that he had falien right into clover. With no particular prospects he was employed as clerk in «4 banker's office. His name happened to be Fre- linghuysen Stuyvesant Brown—for he came of a good old family) whereas the banker himself was a parvenue, Perhaps it was on that ac- count that the banker encouraged him to visit his house and accepted him as a son-in-law. Having the desire, which all rich men outside of society indulge, to penetrate into the exclu- sive circle, he thought it would be a most de- sirable thing that his daughter should be Mrs. Frelinghuysen Stuyvesant Brown. And, mind you, the last name wasn't really Brown. So there was » wedding, and my friend found him- self advanced to the position of son-in-law of his employer. There was no difficulty as to money in this case. The old man was very liberal. He es- tablished the newly wedded pair in « handsome residence, Brown, who had not previously been able to afford to go out in society, became quite a fashionable bird. It is true that his father-in-law was somewhat of on embar- rassment when he insisted on appearing at receptions. He would eat chicken cro- quettes with his knife, and it was quite impos- sible to put him into the background. But the | canker worm at the heart of the rose was the | Everybody | mother-in-law. She was terror. suid thatjand there was wo doubt of the fact frou Brown's point of view. She insisted on ruling his household trom the uprising thereof to its going to bedat night. ‘There wasn't anything which she did not know how to manage. Fur- thermore, she was backed up by her daughter, Mrs, Frelinghuysen Stuyvesunt Brown. joes such a situation as that sig- gilded it means misery for the | young huabsnd. While envied by all of his nc- quaintances he quickly became the most wretched of men. He i# #0 now. F called upon his wife the other dar. Incidentally, 1 saw the mother-in-law. She is always around. I indorse the popular impression that she is a terror. But what defense is there for Brown? To quarrel with the old woman would be to separate from his wife. He .is dependent upon her father for daily bread, Deing still in his employment. My dear boy, A would rather be a hermit and fatten upon the weeds that grow in the desert than be in Brown's boots, People, especully old women, have frequently criticised me for remaintny unmarried. At all events, I'am glad that f never became a Benedict tor the sake ef ac- quiring money by the speculation.” <Sale DAZZLING COLORS. Gaudy Butterfly Gowns for Stylish Maidens. Shifting colors,rainbows of tissues, Wilks, eatin gauzes and democratic woolens, butterflies with burniched wings, poising as bonnets on Parisian grande dames’ coiffures—all these things, with whatever cise ix light, brilliant, dazzling and unusual, form the dress materials of the present, Some of them are stamped with iridescent butterities on a plein ground color; some are an indefinable glint of colors; others are incessantly changing tones of two colors; none are stable. One seen yesterday is. marvel of coloring art. It was a light-weight woo en, ribbed and of a deep tan, As itt lay upon the counter it was covered with perpendicular rainbows, remarkebly faith- ful to the natural phenomenon of the heavens. Some one lifted @ fold and lo! the rein- bows wavered uncertainly in their di- rection but preserved taeir arrangement of colors until the cloth wns laid down ‘nd the angles became fixed. It was as if two people should stand at the end of the heavenly bow (where the pots of gold are) and shake it acrom the sky. For « gown such effects might become oppressive, but in the piece they were something to be remembered. As to the price, it was but $2.50 a yard. THE ACCORDEON PRINCESSE. A gown which arrives from Paris fora slen- other “accor Mone.” in that it depends for ite flare upon the cunning arrangement of the plaite at the waist instend of upon gores. The accordion corset opens upon a chemisette of white silk gauze. Girdle and knotted silk at the bust sre navy blue, which is the darkest tone of the costume. The stole, fitting closely to the shoulders and bust, is Byzantine gui- pure, heavily embroidered in gold and cabochous, and ends ina fringe at the bottom of the skirt. Sleeves are double puffs, quaintlr pretty in their swelling. uncertiin plaits. The forearms are in plain, light ten silk, over which loves are drawn to the elbow. A’ thoroughiy nchified gown, which owes its being to an MODISH COLORS. ‘Tints and Combinations of Them Which Bule Today. “It is the day of the individual woman.” She has asserted herself in the pulpit, in art and in the haunts of the disturbing silver dol- Jar. She is aggressively independent and a little daring in every field save one. And there she bends her head to earth and bows thrice to the veiled Isis. 1t is an ancient thrast—this that men delight to give—our “slaving to fashion.” But there is a prophecy of freedom heard above the din. Some women dress for their own beauty evenif it must be in the gown of five years ago—others insist upon their ac- cessories as to colors and tricks of draperies, even if French actross has not worn them, We are “coming to reason,” purple veils and sporadic hoops to the contrary notwithstand- ing. ‘Thus there are preferences, even epidemics, as to the colors to.be used this summer, but some of us will wear anything we choose be- THE COLORS OF THE ROSE TREE. tween the possibilities of black and white, The brunettes and blondes who dare the worst will garb themeclves in approved shades as follows: First, green and mauve, combined or sepa- rate, changeable or olid; then comes rose and Violet and black, With black and all the tones of the other colors nothing of a color scheme is lacking. But ecrus, grave, poppy red, severe blue, sometimes yellow and 0: are novelly combined in certain costumes ft is an artistic triumph in gown making when a flowery cos- tume isin natural tints of green and pink or bine. Such a one is a carriage dress of white silk muslin flowers with wild roses and luscious green branches. The skirt is twice raffled with Tosy mousscline, headed by lace ruching. Tho round bodice is widely girded with stem-green crepe. f An exquisite fichu of embroidered pink ‘mousseline is knotted upon the shoulders aud drawn below the bust. One end is carried to the right side and tied in a third big, soft knot, whence the remainder falls beiow the w: The sleeves are one enormous Watteau puff, reaching to the elbow, where the: suede gioves. The hat is a poked-up horn trimmed with # branch of roses, buds aad ieaves. ———$ He Got There, From the Portland Transcript. A good story about Prof. Tucker, formerly of | Bowdoin College, is told: About the year 61, when he was “Tutor” Tucker at the institution, the bell rang for prayers at the chapel, as now, very early in the mormng, and it was imperative upon tutors and pupils to respond. Asa tutor Mr. Tucker was very popular, al- though very strict, and he was always prompt to take his place at the head of his class at the early morning devotion ‘One morning, however, he found his clothing gone and his door nailed while the bell ringing. Finding ® hatchet he soon split the door down and at the last stroke of the bell appeared, ciothed in his shirt aud a pair of overalls, bare- footed, with a smile of serenity on bis expres- sive countenance. He took his customary place and neither then nor t heard from him, { ie it [havebad all the sicknesses Henry had. | | LIVED ONCE BEFORE, Curious Belief of Two Vouthfal Theese- phists at New York. ‘From the Chicago Post. There are two lads in New York city who are *atisfied in their own active minds that they are the reincarnation of beings who lived and died before they were born. The boys are Victor Fernandez, aged thirteen years, and Lavourne Ternandez, hie brother, aged tine, The theorophists of New York are cousiderably worked up over the children. They belicve @ new era of advancement in the culture bas begun. The Fernandez boys are sturdy little chars, black-eved, black-haired and of olive compleiion. Neither cares for romping in the streets with the boys in the neighborhood. When the school hour fs over they retura home without delay and take to” their books, When a reporter went to see the boys Lavourne sat by the window, with one leg across the other, reading with evident interest ot a theosophical work called “Bhagavad Gita” It is a book of devotion, aud ie = dialogue be tween Krushna, lord of devotion, and Ar} pritce of India. The elder bor’ was leaning is elbows on the sewing machine reading extracts from books ru theosophical prodigies, Victor, eald: “It you ask we about thie (tapping his chest) ] can tell you nothing of interest. It is not me and of uo value except as @ habitation for that waich ecdurea” WAS ONCE KILLED IN RATTLE, “Now, shall I tell you something about my Feinearnation? Well,” said he,“‘I was once @ man, just bow old I do not know, One day be- fore the present Victor Fernand was bota and when Iwasa man I was somewhere in the presence of agreat body of soldiers. carried eabere and wore fighting and «Were you one of the soldiers?” “No. {was drossed in black and was down by # soldier. Mince I became old to think all this hus come to me. About go sat in my bed and saw my former Thave told you. I heard the click of the bledes ns they came together. » Then after T hed re- ceived my death blow cture away and ancther one came." Teaw the soldiers marching away with a man in uniform at their “You are sure you were not dreaming when you saw the two pictures?” “ ng! x, the schoolboys ask that same question when J tell them about it Ni sir; I was not dreaming. I waewide awake and the fact that I liad lived before bad come me; that's all.” Without suggestion the lad raised one and said: “Out of silence « voice sball it will say: ‘It is not well thou bast 5 now thou must sow.’ That is from on the Path.’ If we sow kindness in this life we shall reap kindness after our reincarnation. If We sow anger or viciousness we shall reap the results when we come again on earth.” te young thecsophist resend. ae en dlus- tion Teincarnation the caterpillar coming into a beautiful butterfly. THINKS HE WAS ONCE A CHINAMAR. Lavourne Fernandes believes he is the relm- carnation of his dead brother. and that at some stage in the past be was a Chinaman. “Tell something about Henry,” eaid his sie- “What,” said the boy, closing the “Bhagha- vad Gita” on his Singer. ‘Homry died when he was three years old, while papa and mamma were ons sicamer going to Cubs. About three years after bis death, and when Virginia—my sister here—was about eight years old I born. I never saw the steamer i i if tid died, but I know bow it looks now. I know the cabin where Henry lay sick. I know the sides of the steather and the water and all about it that was in Henry is in me now. At 1e, Fears and years ago, I was a Chinaman.” The little chap. like his brother, told Story with all seriousness. Miss Fernandez became a two years ago, and, according to her —" sure long before that time that she was incarnated spirit of a former resident of or Jupiter. Before she offered to say about hereelf she said Lavourne bad bis mother and herself by bis ability to describe things he had never seen. DESCKIPES THINGS HE DOES NOT SEE. “Why, when mamma goes out for the even- ing, she snid, “Lavourne knows where she goes, and in the morning he can tell about the house she visited, the room and even the furniture.” Lavourne smiled and Victor said: “Yea, sir, Hebas done it often; and, mind you, be i when she goes outend doss not know ing about it.” ie Fernandez was by her brothers “Mine br to tell about a Miss 5: “That.is not mach,” she tie He PB Theory ‘the . B about six months ago in her buying 4 new dress texture and saw ber ‘She missed the train an: o'clock. Now, that is the story. Miss Stabler got « few days ago and it was exactly saw, even to the strands of would you believe it? she started to go burg and missed the 10:30 train after her friends good-bye and was epmpelied to until 1 o'clock. Dr. Claude F. Wright, secretary of the Blav- atsky lodge in London, who was for three part of Mme. Blavateky's official family, ‘this country lecturing. When he heard of the Fernandez children be said that he believed that theosophy would go forward with renewed impetus because of their wonderful statements, ~—__+e2____ THREE MILLION BACHEDORS, That's What the Census Shows, and Its Time Some Repented. From the Boston Globe According to the last census reports there are ‘over 8,000,000 bachelors in the United States— by which is meant there are 3.000,000 men over thirty years bid who have never been married. ‘This fact, of course, furnishes a very handy text for all sorts of comment and suggestion, Now and then the scheme is advocated of mak- ing neglect of matrimony # statutory offense, either by way of tax discrimination im favor of married parties or otherwise. In earlier times marriage was compulsory. ‘The great world conquerors wanted. material for their armics,and so heavy penalties were laid on # negiest ‘to marry. One interesting question which the census figures do not answer is this: “How.many of these 3.000.000 bachelors are single from choice rather than necesmt: ‘The factors affecting the ability to support @ wife have been very much changed under the newer. industrial and commercial condition. So great bas become the competition for places among the higher pursuits, and eo largely have women come to fill positions once exelusi occupied by men, that the bureaus of ind: statistic show a larger and Jarger percentage of men in these pursuits whose incomes, from their point of view, would not permit them te marry. It if easy to scold the. young men in this maiter—quite as easy to find febit with the young women who are looking out for husbands with plenty of ready money. But there is nothing in the published census figures regard- Ang the average earnings of certain classes of workers which at all warrants the conclusion that the majority of these 8,000,000 unmarried men remain single through willfulness rather than what ther deem a heat PO i2 At the Hotel, From World's Fair Puck. 3 i i i i i, rid i Pr : A i & é Be i i if | Hayes Exd (working at the electric @ight)— “Wal, I swan, Susany, Lean't git this gol darned chimbley of.” Susan —"Oh, T meant to hey told you, You just turn this little ketea,teo, and the ii comes, That chimbley’ ‘on that way #0 a8 ‘terward were words of to stop them couuiry people from blowing ous | the gan”