Evening Star Newspaper, September 16, 1893, Page 7

THE EVENING SITAR: WASHINGTON, D..C. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1893—SIXTEEN PAGES. THE SORE FOOT HOSPITAL FRENCH RESERVES. The Able-Bodied Citizens Who Are Required to Play at War. THE GRAND MANEUVERS, How the Reserves Are Called Out and the Duties Required. Se Ce BATTLES THAT ARE WAGED. Written for The Evening Star. PARIS, August 30, 1593. N FRANCE THE army is the nation. Every able-bodied citizen, from his twenty-first year, is on the lists for three years’ active service. Some account is made of the eldest sons of widows and other family necessi- ties, but in general the young French- man is lucky who es- capes with only a year in barracks and camp. With his twenty-fourth year he Passes into the act army reserve for seven more years. He has to serve his twenty-eight days in the field whenever catjea on. Usually he helps to fill out the army corps which take part in the grand maneuvers. It ts not always a welcome break in the Ife of a . Who has just got well Into ¢ivilian’s work again. The old-fashioned training day of the militia and the annual encampment of the National Guard in America are very much of a picnic beside it. The French Districi All France is divided into eighteen dis- tricts, each having its own army ¢orps in garrison. The corps is regularly made up of eight regiments of infantry, two of cavalry (culrassiers and dragoons), two cf artillery, with an engineer battery, a pro- vistoning squadron, and one legion of gen- darmerie (military police). An average reg- iment in active service will have 1,20 men. But when the grand maneuvers come cn enough of the reserve are called out to in- erease the number to 3,000. These men cf the reserve, after a few days’ training to put them in military trim, join the active regiments and the maneuvers begin. ‘The Two Armies. The grand maneuvers do not consist in mere training or in marching about the country according to a cut and dried plan made out beforehand. Two army corps are Placed at a distance from each other, with the general direction to treat each other as enemies. The pian o. campaign in its great outlines is given by the general di- Yecting the maneuvers, but nothing more. The special movements are left to the dis- eretion of the corps commanders, who ad- vance and turn and execute flank move- ments, charging, dividing the opposing corps, surrounding and making prisoners, and the rest, quite as though they were Teal enemies, operating over the space that may have separated their original positions. This gives the element of surprise found in real war. There ts no wonder that all the nations send the military attaches of their legations to watch and profit by these ob- Jeet lessons in the art of war. ‘This Year's Maneuvers. This year the maneuvers begin on the 4th of September. A hostile army from the east Is descending the valley of the Ose and has pushed forward as far as Cler- mont, a village thirty-six miles from Beauvais. The French army ts concentrat- Misat Ing some fifty miles to the west around Rouen. On the morning of the 15th the French genera! leads an opposing corps thirty miles forward to Cisors. This and the following day are mainly taken up with these advance marches. The I7th is a day of rest. It is not forgotten that maneuvers are not real war and their object is to be obtained without inflicting the extreme fa- tigue which real war might make neces- sary. On the i8th the march 1s renewed and the two armies at last come in con- tact with each other. The 19th and 20th are given up to surprising each other as best they may. The 2ist ts again a day of rest: and then the two army corps unit fraternally and march off to Beauval qyhere a grand review is to be held on the at With the Reserv! The life of the “reservist’—the peace- ful citizen thus suddenly called back to war's alarms and rigors—is most interest- | ing during these days. He has been notified to present himself at the post of his regiment on a certein day. There he ts to receive his uniform and accouterments, us taken from the eld stock, which has been marked “hors service” for the active army. Anything like providing a uniform or arms for him- self would not be tolerated The ma- meuvers are of a serious exercise, not for play or display. Not only that, but he can- hot choose for himself among the habili- ments or even see that they fit him before | putting them on. A sergeant stands be- [fore the shelves and sizes up each new man as he enters. In a moment he has brought down a full uniform, with cap, braces and cravat. The cap may go down to your eyes and the unmentionables re- fuse to meet at the waistband. That is your affair, and you are a poor soldier if you cannot make everything go with a lit- Ue tailoring. Ten to one, you have also to clean the verdigris from the buttons, the | mildew from the cap, and the rifle grease from the shoulders of the coat. The cora rades of the active regiments are good tured, and, being skillful with dally p1 tice, they soon help you to have everything from beit to bayonet, clean enough to pass muster. Military Duties. While the reservist ts arranging his traps in his quarters his first call to duty comes. ‘The corporal cries: “All hands to potatoes! In @ moment lawyer and artist and work- man (and, since the late laws, the priest as well) have each drawn the regulation knives from thelr pockets and are peeling potatoes round @ great sack that has been slung on the ground. This exercise will be ted twice every day until they are disbanded. The first military exercises proper of the reserve are to reaccustom the men to active training, bending the body forward—gym- | Rastic step—upright movements of the arms, bending at quarter time—general limbering up—tt is no fun for the Parisian fresh from the Boulevard. He makes the best of it. however, and calls it “the dance of Ton- ful.” where perhaps he did his active serv- All have to wash at the pump, when in barracks, or at the nearest stream or spring, when in the fields. Some are given Dicks and set to labor at mock fortifications; others are put through their rifle exercise; and, at regular intervals, all are gathered Tound some officer who explains to them the “theorie. At last these preparatory days in quarters are happily over, and the regiments are marched out into the open fields. On the March. The maneuvers are now to begin. The start usually is made by night. Ail through the mock campaign, a3 far as possible, no damage must be done to the fields or crops, for the state has to pay for all heavily. It is one of the unwarlike parts of this playing at war to see two opposing bodies of troops, ene of which has surprised the other, stOpped in full charge by an intervening fleld of buckwheat, which they are not al- lowed to trample down. They can only stand and brandish thelr arms across or discharge their blank cartridges. In their marches along the roads, how- ever weary, the French soldiers "solace themselves with songs. More than once seme martinet of a commander has tried to put a stop to this, but leon and the great generals have always allowed it, even in real war. At the first halt the literary man, who fs making ready to rest his wearted limbs, 1s sent to hunt for wood to make coffee or to bring water from where he can find it. The peasants come round curiously. In the north they bring jugs of cider to refresh the “Piou-piou,” as the French people af- fectionately call the soldier, who is a uni- versal favorite with them. Mock Charges. At last the corps is within smelling dis- tance, so to say, of the enemy. Pickets are stationed, the scouts are sent out, all are on the alert and everything ts as conscientious and wearisome—if not as exciting—as real war. During the march the nights have been spent as best they might, in stables, or under the wagons, on bundles of straw. During the mock fighting the accommoda. tions are naturally worse, and every one has to be ready to turn out at a moment's notice. Sometimes half the night is spent in maneuvering of which the soldier under- stands nothing, except that it rains and his feet stick in the mud, or that a chill wind 1s blowing. Getting Used to It. After the first few days the body accus- toms itself once more to the rude Ife in the open alr. it is a soldier's proverb that @ wetting in the uniform gives nobody a cold. The weather must be rarely hard for a French commander to suspend the active maneuvers once they are begun: and many find no pleasure in all this exertion, in rain | and sun and wind, now sweating, and now drenched to the bone. It is said that a well-known artist, from his first day on the real march, managed to keep himself in the infirmary ambulance with a frightful sore on his foot. It progressed according to the most approved symptoms, from angry red to threatening purple and blue, with a final tendency to sloughing off in yellow and green. When the maneuvers were over he washed it away. He had brought his brush- es with him and used his skill in realistic painting. ‘The Wounded. The greenhorns eagerly press forward when the officer asks for men willing to represent the wounded after an ens~ present tin 4 second are treated with such severe The doctors strip them, explain actuality. to the soldiers what the wound is supposed to be, how the blood must be stopped and bandages applied; and everything is done as told—by rough and unskillful fingers. The poor fellows thus experimented on, poked at and trussed up, are at last carried off on a jolting litter. One innocent was so disturbed at the detailed symptoms and their treatment that the physician was finally obliged to treat him in good earnest. ‘The foreign attaches are an object of uni. versal interest during these maneuvers. It is known that they are present for solid every facility in thelr way. Transportation is furnished them, and they are enabled to follow intelligently all the different move. work; and the general in command puts | ments. Of late years the Japanese has een the most attentive; the American has pot appeared. But the grave Englishman, | te pompous German—all eyes and ears, the | Sympathetic Russian, and the Italian with his uniform handsome enough for the comic opera ure bound to give detatled reports to their respective governments. STERLING HEILIG —er____—— THE MACHINE. It Can Be No Better T Who Made It. ‘From Scribner's Magazine. It is to be remembered that, notwithstand- ing all we hear of the vast superiority of machine over hand work, this machinery must itself possess as great, if not greater, accuracy and refinement than the product manufactured by it. No machine can, in this respect, be suzerior to its maker; it can only produce*sufficiently accurate and good work at a lower cost than if made by him. The first sewing machine of a kind built by skilled machinists or tool makers is at least as good and as accurately made as any subsequently manufactured by ma- chinery, and the same men can duplicate it more exactly than can any machinery; but machines built thus would cost far more than people could afford to pay for them, and that's all there {s to talk of the substitution of the “certainty and accuracy of machinery for the uncertainty and in- accuracy of hand work.” — SOMF BIG EQUINE LEAPS. Thirty-Four Fect Certainly Cleared im the English Steeplechase of 1847. One of the most remarkable jumps by a horse on record is that made by Chandler, a steeplechaser, while running in the Leaming- ton Cup, at Warwick, England, in 1847. The distance covered in one leap has been vari- ously measured. For a number of years it was thought to have been thirty-nine feet, but the editor of the sporting paper in which the record was first published afterward explained that this was a printer's error, and that the distance was in reality thirty- seven feet. This, in itself, 1s big enough; so big, in fact, that there are many horsemen in England today who witl swear that it is exaggerated. The portion of the race in which the jump occurred is reported as follows in a description of the race in Bell's Life, of the issue of March 28, 1847: “This left the lead with King of the Vel- ley, but he refused at the top of the hill, and soon after Regalia caught up with him. They raced together to the brook, with Chandler following them. Chandler's rider pulled back as they approached it, expect- ing that Regalia would bring grief to some- body, and when they arrived at it sent the spurs into his horse, and followed them with all steam on. Both went into the brook, and while they were there Chandler, who was not able to stop, whatever incli tion he may have had to do so, made an extraordinary jump and cleared the brook, horses and riders together.” The account goes on to say that Chandler won the race with ease. The length of the leap was immediately measured, but there was some doubt as to where the animal had landed, as the ground was soft and a num- ber of hoof prints had been made. Captain Broadley, the rider, who seems to have been @ modest person, sald that the distance was thirty-seven feet. This beat the record, as far as known, the best previous perform- ance having been that of Lottery, who cleared between thirty-three and thirty-four feet. One of the witnesses of the jump was William Archer, father of the famous Fred and Charles Archer, and he was willing to swear ever afterward that the distance was thirty-nine feet. F. Sawley, a well-known sporting writer in England, was also on hand, and he has declared in a recent article that the tape measured but 44 feet. This is the minimum estimate. Summing up, it may be said that, while there is some doubt as to the exact number of feet cleared, Chandler's performance was an unusual and important one. The same may be sald of a horse called Proceed, who is sald to have cleared thirty-seven feet while running in @ steeplechase about the time of the above event. A horse called Culverthorn is re- ported to have jumped thirty-nine feet on one occasion, and Lather, a hunter owned by one Lord Ingestrie, ‘is said to have jumped thirty-seven feet five inches over a pit. None of these measurements 1s abso- lutely authentic. ——_+e-___ A WESTERN BAD MAN. Luke Short and Some of His Thrilling Frontier Experiences. Luke Short, who died in Kansas recently, says the Chicago Herald, has a place of Prominence in the history of the Kansas frontier in the days when It, like Kentucky, might well have been called the dark and bloody ground. A desperado himself, in the western acceptatidm of the word, no man knew better than he how to hold in check the lawiess element which sought to control all things by means of force. Ex- perience was ‘his school, and he had taken a full course in all the frontier branches, having been successively cowboy, cattle owner, saloon keeper and gambier. Bat jasterson, now dead, Charlie, known as enator” Bassett, Doc Holliday and others equally well known were his intimates, the first three especially so. With them he made a reputation which caused him to be feared and respected by all members of the lawless class. In February, 1877, Short was proprietor of a gambling house on the main street of Fort Worth, Texas. Jim Courtwright, a “terror,” with the record of five killings, had been in his employ as special officer, but when the big strike occurred on the Missouri Pacifie railway he left to take charge of a body of deputies who were hired to protect the company’s property from the strikers. In a fight with the strikers Court- wright and his deputies used their rifles and killed four of the strikers. Popular opinion pronounce’ this murder, and Court- wright, who gave the order to fire, was held responsible for the bloodshed. When the strike ended he tried to get back his job in the White Elephant, but Short would have no more to do with him. He then gave It out around town that he would run Short out of Fort Worth, and began a war on the gambling house as a preliminary. His ef- forts in this direction met with no success, so he made an attempt to compromise with Short, but it failed. The nervy gambler neither feared nor cared for anything Courtwright could do to injure him. This embittered Courtwright and he concluded to kill Short. To this end he adopted a ruse. On February 7 he called at the White Elephant and, meeting Jake Johnson, Short’s partner, at the door, said that he’ wanted to make up with Short. Stepping inside, Johnson told this to Short. The latter sized the matter up in its true light, and when he went out his gun was loosened and he was ready for Court- wright’s game. et’s shake, Luke.” said Courtwright, raising his right hand from his hip. where it had been resting. In the hand he held his revolver, and as he pulled the trigger Short shot, the bullet taking off Courtwrizht's right thumb and entering his side. Court- wright’s bullet went through the window of the gambling house. Taking no chances, Short continued to pump lead into Court: wright’s body unti{ he fell dead in the door- way of a shooting’ gallery next door to the White Elephant. Short pulled the trigger five times and four of the bullets were found in Courtwright’s body. For this kill- ing Short was again arrested, but speedily freed, as Courtwright was shown to be the aggressor. In 1877 and '78 Luke Short settled in Da- kota. In a camp there one night he was dealing Spanish monte in a gambling house, when two noted horse thieves went against the game and dropped all they had. They then demanded the return of their money, and being refused pulled thelr guns. Short was too quick for them,and when they were Picked up from under the tables both men were dead with two of Short's 45-caliber bullets in their bodies. Neither one was given time to pull a trigger. Later, in the Same region, Short killed two other men of the same character, who tried to raid his fambling house This made nine in all. ——_ce-_____ Ladies in Waiting. About the Same. From the Chicago Tribune. Stranger (taking a Sunday morning stroll!) Hoy, can you direct me to the nearest | cemeter: South Side Urchin—“Wot's de matter wid goin’ to Jackson Park?” iCULLOM ON THE TIMES The Illinois Senator's Views on Con- gressional Desuetude, a TRE SMUATICN IN THE WEST Effect of the World's Fair Upon Chicago. REMINISCENCES OF LINCOLN. Written for The Evening Star. HAD A LONG CHAT a few evenings ago with Senator Shelby M. Cullom of Iiiinois at hia home on Mass- achusetts avenue He lives in Thomas F. wayard’s old house near Thomas Circle, just across the way from the homes of Senators Morrill and Allison. It is an old- fashioned red brick of two stories and a mansard with a porch running aiong the front of it. Senator Cullom is very do- mestic in his tastes. He spends most of his evenings with his family and you are pretty sure of finding him at home. He is a very approachable man. He is as plain and sim- ple in his ways as was Abraham Lincoln and he {s noted for having what Lincoln would have called good “horse sense.” He looks very much like Lincoln, though his frame is not built on the colossal scale of that of the marty-ed President. He is, I Judge, about five feet ten inches in height. He is thin, angular and wiry. His face is plain, dark in complexion and covered with @ short black beard in which the gray 1s beginning to show. He talks easily and well. He has ideas of his own and is not afraid to utter them. He 1s as close to the people of the country as any man in the Senate and his views on public questions are always interesting. My conversation with him covered a wide range. It began with the session of Congress. I asked: “What is Congress going to do to help the people?" “I don't know,” replied Senator Cullom. “So far Congress has done more harm than g00d. The people supposed we could do something, and, had we come here, stayed a week, repealed the silver clause and gone home, we might have helped the financial situation. As it ls we are retarding busi- ness and we are adding to the fright of the people. Congress is of no good in a pinch lke this. It can do nothing quickly. If it has years to work in, it can accomplish something and it can revise laws which ex- tend over long periods. But it is of no good in an emergency. The people already see this nd the present revival of business shows that they are growing tired of walt- ing and are beginning to help themselves.’ The Situation in Ilino! jg Iligola being affected by the <y seriously,” was the reply. “We are having hard times, My state is, you know, @ great manufacturing state and the north- ern part of it makes all kinds of articles that are affected by the tariff. Among our industrial centers are such places as Chi- cago, Joliet, Peoria, Elgin, Spzingfleld and others. In ‘most of these’ places the fac- tories are running on half their usual forces. A large number of the establish: ments have shut down altogether and there are 50,00 men out of employment in Chi- cago and I venture to say, that the num- ber of unemployed in the United States is moze than a million, “Yes, there are more than a_ million workers in this country who are out of a Job,” Senator Cullom went on. “Do you Tealize what that means? Suppose these men average a dollar a day. which is a very low estimate. This means a loss of a million dollars a day, or more than three hundred million dollazs a year, to the country. It meuns the loss of production, as well as the loss of the spending power, and it can- not but affect every branch of business and trade. “Ho time: Chicago and the Fair. “How about Chicago?” I asked. “Has not the fair helped it?" “In one sense, yes. Thére have been from seventy-five thousand to two hundred and fifty thousand visitors who have been spend- ing on an average at least three dollars a day in Chicago. Many have spent many times that. ‘this money. has given” the banks a circulating medium. Otherwise I don’t think it has changed matters much. The fair crowd 1s only a drop in the bucket of Chicago's population. There is no lack of people on the streets when the fair is at its fullest. Chicago is a wonderful city. You can't keep pace with it. Go away from it fo> a couple of weeks and when you come back you find that it has added a hundred thousand to its population. “Yes, Senator,” said I, “but is its growth a healthy one?’ Will it jast “Yes,” emphatically replied Senator Cul- Jom. “Chicago is full of fron and muscle. It will be the great city of the United States. It will eventually distance New York. It is fast growing to be a city of rich men and it has more enterprise and push than any othe> city in the country. Anarchy and the Anarch! “Yes, Senator,” said I, “and it has more anarchists. Will not hard times increase your socialists? “I can’t tell,” replied Senator Cullom. “It times do not improve, there will be much starvation and distress. When hun- ger comes in at the door, reason and p: dence often fly out at the window. Gc ernor Altgeld says there are not fifty anar- chists in the country. He may be right in that there are not fifty who would throw bombs, but in times of panic and starvation you cannot tell how soon thousands can be organized into mobs.” “What will be the effect of the times on political parties?” “If the hard times continue the republi- cans will carry the country by a large ma- jority, and if McKinley should carry Ohio by an overwhelming vote, the logic of the situation would point to him as our next presidential candidate. If, however, time should ease up under a revised tariff, Mc- Kinley could not be nominated, as he could only, be the head of a high protective tariff platform. If Congress should repeal the tax on state banks, and legislate the na- tional banks out of existence, we might have flush times for a year or 9, and then the trouble would be worse than ever. In such a case the revised tariff mizht be car- ried_on with apparent prosperity. It Is hard to tell what will happen. [ am afraid of Congress. If it does nothing, times will certainly continue hard. If tt does what some of its members wish to do, the situa- tion may grow better for a time. only to leave us in a worse state than ever.” How Senator Cullom Saved the Bank. I here asked Senator Cullom as to the panic of 1873, and his experiences in it. | He replied: “I don't think the panic of 1873 or that of 1883 Is to be compared to this. I was in business at the time of the nic in 1873. I left Congress in i871, and was president of a benk in Spriny‘eld. We had six or seven banks In the place, and the situation for a time was eritical The New York banks had closed their | doors. The banks of St. Lou's and Chica- go had suspended payment, and the bank presidents of Springfield debated for a week whether they should not follow suit. We had meetings every day and every evening of this week up to Friday night. The next day was Saturday and we knew that the farmers would come in from the country and that many of them would demand their | money. At the beginning of the meeting the oldest bank president in the city made a motion that we all suspend on the morrow. This hung fire until late and at last the chairman said: ‘I suppose it is the sense of this meeting that all the banks will close Spite tee diate Sea said nothing. I was rect of the action upon my political career rather than upon myself as a banker. I was very ambitious and I dia not want to appear before the people in the future as the ex-president of a burst bank. I got up and said: ‘Gentlemen: I am, I think, the youngest benk president "here. My bank ‘has no more capital than the others. I probably know less about banking t any of you, but 1 say here and now t rather than close my bank while I have a copper cent to pay out I would put my hand and arm in a red hot stove. This speech changed the sense of the meeting. It restored confidence to the others. We decided not to close and we passed throuch the next day without trouble. We have not had a failure since that time, and my speech saved us. What the country nceds today Is more backbone and nerve. A large part of the panic is due to fright and what We need is confidence in ourselves.” President Lincoln as a Financier. “You knew President Lincoln quite well, Senator. What kind of a financier was he?" 2 “Theoretically and on political econom!- cal grounds he was great. Practically he knew little about money and took no care of it. He kept no books to speak of. and I have been in his law office when he had re- turned from riding the circuit. He practic- ed at the courts of all the counties about Springfield. After trying a case he would take a piece of paper and wrap up the fee that he received from his clients, and write on the back of the paper the name of the case. He would put the money thus wrap- ped away in his pocket. The next fee would be wrapped up in like manner and stored away in another pocket, and when he came home he would take out the fees from the different pockets one at a time, and divide them with his partner. As a Lawyer. “Was Abraham Lincoln a great lawyer?” “Yes,” replied Senator Cullom, “I think there is no doubt of that. My father knew him very well, and when asked to advise as to a lawyer for any person,he would say:‘Get Judge Logan if you can, but if you can’t, there is a young man in his office by the name of Lincoln who will do just as well.’ Lincoln was very strong with both court and jury. He had a great deal of personal magnetism, and his honest, common, piain way captured the jurors. He would lean over them, gesturing with his long arms, and would hold them by his homely elo- quence.” “Did President Lincoln decide things quickly?” I asked. “No; he never jumped at conclusions. He first viewed all sides of a subject and then acted. He judged for himself and followed out his own judgments. He was a great all-around man and had he lived he would have maintained his greatness.” How Lincoln's Grave Was Robbed. “Were you in Springfield at the time that the robbery of his grave was attempted?” “Yes,"" replied Senator Cullom. “It was in 1876, the night of the election. I remem- ber it very weil, for I was elected governor of Illinois at that time. A set of whelps had conspired together to steal the body of Lincoin and hold it for ransom. Their plans were carefully laid and they would have succeeded hud they not been betrayed by one of their own number. The monu- ment was built over. great pedestal in which were two rooms. One of these was @ sort of memorial room. It contained rel- ics of President Lincoln and other things memorial of him. The other room held the body of Lincoln. 1t was laid away in a zine casket inside ofa marble sarcophagus se- curely sealed. As soon as the conspiracy was known preparations were made to pre- vent its being carried out. That night a party of the citizens of Springfield hid themselves in the memorial room and waited for the attempted raid. They did not wait in vain. At midnight the ghouls came and broke their way into the vault. They broke open the marbie casket at one end and had hauled the zinc casket one third of the way out when the party in the memorial room started to catch them. They succeeded, however, in escaping, though two of them were afterwards caught and sentenced to prison. “How are the remains kept today? Are they guarded?" “No, there is no guard over them,” replied Senator Cullom, “but they are so buried that they will never be disturbed. After the at- tempt of stealing the body, a tomb was exca- vated in the solid masonry directly under the obelisk. In this the body was placed and the whole was embedded in hydraulie cement. Lincoln's remains are now 80 placed that they will never be touched.” A Scene at the White House. “Do you remember your first meeting with President Lincoln at Washington, Senator?’ said I. “Yes," replied Senator Cullom, “and I remember, too, a very embarrassing meet- ing that I had there. It was just after I was elected to Congress, but before I had taken my seat. I knew Lincoln's private secretaries very well. Both Hay and Nic- olay came from Springfield, and I was ac- customed to go to the White House to see them without ceremony. At this time I cam? up to the door and passed right through to Mr. Nicolay's room. I opened it without knocking and went in only to find myself in the presence of President Lincoln and members of his cabinet. Seward, Stanton and Chase were present, and as I saw them I colored to the roots of my hair, begged pardon for the intrusion, and started to go out. President Lincoln rose from the head of the table and called me by name. He came over to me, got a hold of my hand and pulled me into the group of cabinet ministe: As he did so he said to Secretary ‘Seward, I want you to know this boy. You remember the old Congressman from Springfield, named Stewart. I want to introduce you to the boy that beat him. This is the boy.’ He thereupon presented me to the different ministers, much to my embarrassment. I shook hands with them and backed my way out just as soon as T could. This was back in 1864, and it was the next year that I took my seat In Con- gress for the first time.” “Do you think, Senator, that the Congress of today contains as many great men as did those following the war?” “I think not replied Senator Cullom. “We had giants in the House and Senate then. We have some good men. now, but there are not as many pre-eminently great.” Carter After Cullom. The conversation here turned to the next Senator from Illinois, and I asked Senator Cullom as to the democratic candidate. He replied that there were a number, and that the Senatorial bee was buzzing around the heads of Altgeld, Carter Harrison and others, Said he: “I saw Carter Harrison at Chicago not long ago, and we had a word together as we passed. He sak ‘Ah, Cullom, I am_ after you; I am after you? I replied: ‘Yes, you are not the first one who has been after me. There have been @ number who have tramped upon my heels in the past and who have not caught me, and it may be the same with you FRANK G. CARPENTER. From Fishing Gazette, Do fish sleep? No absolutely certain an- swer can be given, says Medicus in the Ga- zette. My own impression is that they do, but when I say this let it not be supposed that I confuse their slumber, coma or rest —call it what you Mke—with the sleep of animals. It is the same only in generic kind, inasmuch as that it relieves the func. tion as analogous slumber does in the higher animals. To understand the mean. Ing I wish to convey it is n to bear in mind that the fish is eminently endowed with muscular and, consequently, great lo- comotive power. Moreover, as it consumes but little oxygen, the waste of tissue is not great; hence fish have been known to do without food for a great length of time. Similarly the stress on the vital powers is not great, compared with that produced by the difficulties of movement in land ani- mals. ‘These facts, viz., great muscular power, easy locomotion and small consumption of oxygen, being borne in mind, we can un- derstand why the necessity’ for sleep ts small, and are prepared to find that fish sleep but litt! ——+e-______ Reconcil ra From Harper's Bazar. A man going shopping with his wife is usually a most woe-begone looking object; his face always bears upon Jt the marks of despair. But that to some men a shop crowded with shoppers is a Soon there is evidence in_ the following little story, which 1s quoted from a foreign periodical. As the story runs a gentleman who had promised to meet his wife in a large establishment where all sorts of things are sold at low prices was making his way througn the throng of women. Forced to pause for a moment near a counter behind which stood a pretty saleswoman he blurted out: “Is there anything on earth that would reconcile a man to such a crowd as this?” “Yes, sir,” was the quick reply. “Lelong- ing to the firm.” When the scalp 1s atrophied, or shiny-bald, no pre varation will restore the hair; In all other cases, ‘au’'s Hair Kenewer will siart « growth, “G'ANNY'S BABY.” WEITTEN FOR THE EVENING 8TABR BY LOUISE BR. BAKER. ——-—__—_ HERE WAS STIR and excitement in the village of Two Uius; Granny Lem- ois mite of posses- sions was to be put up at euction. bo not imagine by this statement that the villagers of Two Hills were heartless, for they were no such thing. In the true sense of the word the possessions in question were not Granny’s, Granny Lemon's daughter had died owing money and owning turniture. It was only right to the dead woman that the slur of debt should be removed from her name: The storekeeper of Two Hills said that he would willingly relinquish the bit of money that the iead woman's ef- fects sold at auction would bring him: but the sheriff, a distant cousin of the poor woman, declared that shame should not be attached to her who a few evenings before had lain “so calm-lke in corpse” in the little whitewashed cotttaze. But al this sense of justice was bound to be hard on Granny and the baby. There was not a doubt ‘in the mind of the villagers thet Granny and the baby would have to be dis- Patched to the county poorhou-e. So it was altogether a solemn air, hat gath- ering at the auction of the effects of the late Mary Ann Dunn. “Five cheers, pretty good cheers, first- rate cheers!” cried the auctioneer, standing on Granny's table, or rather on ‘the table of the late Mary Ann, and waving one of the “cheers” in the air. “Good, solid wood. What'll you bid? Who'll start her?” “Twelve cents,” said a broad-shouldered man with a solemn face, who had J: edged into the crowd. “Twelve cents on a hid,” shouted the auctioneer. “Five fine cheers, cheers that'll last a lifetime, goin’ at «welve cents apiece. “Thirteen cents,” said a poor woman, quickly. But she looked relieved when the first bidder made it “Fourteen. ‘Taint gunno do Granay nor : good,” she said, and bid no further. One by one the effects vu? the late Mary Ann were knocked down to the neighbors. ‘The last article sold was a lrcom which was nearly all handle. It was knocked down to the broad shou!tcred man, who had put upon it the tremendous bid of twenty cents, “Mary Ann Lemon was his gal once,” said an old inhabitant of Two ilils. “She'd best heap a took him,” said some one else. “He'd a kept her comfortable behind the blacksmith shop,” The auctioneer had entered the cottage to make sure that all the furniture had been put up at the sale. Everything was gone. Only for Granny and the baby the Uttle room was empty. The old woman Sat upon the steps leading to the floor above; she was holding the baby in her arms. The auctioneer was not considered an odd man, but he was a man of impulse, big and bold when the impulse took hold of him. He hesitated a moment, looking at the old woman and the baby; then he went forward suddenly and picked the baby out of the old woman's arms. These two beings were destined for the poor house. It seem- ed a sad thing that the late Mary Ann should have worked and starved herself to keep the three of them together and in the end be the means of turning her mother and the baby over to pauperism. “i've got an idee, Granny.” The auc- tloneer stepped to the door after uttering these consolatory words and mounted the table, which had already been sold, with the baby clinging fast to his neck. “Now here's a fine plece o ware,” he called out loudly. “This baby’ ve its old granny from the poor’s house, thave mpat It's e-gunno do. Who'll put a on @ rosy-cheeked hearty baby? Say, what'll you bid?" ag ‘The people did not comprehend; there was Hlence in the crowd. “I'm not in fer acceptin’ u little bid,” roared the auctioneer, I don’t want no offer- in’ of dollars or cents, 1 want hundveds o° dollars, Some people would hani out a ower o' money fer a baby like ihis'n.“Ain't there nobody in Two Hills what's hungerin’ for a baby?” “Five hundred dollars,” called a voice in the crowd. ‘The villagers turned with one accor’ a:1d stared at the blacksmith. What 41a Sain Winters want with a baby? He haln’t uny wife to look after it. “A fine hearty baby goin’ to be knocked down at $500!" cried the auctioneer. “Why look at her, how she kin laugh.” Sure enough the late Mary Ann's taby had peered around from the joneer’s shoulder and was leughing gleef ily. “Some'n’s tickled her,” said the man, licld- ing her out to the crowd. She was a sweet Uttle maid of three, her yellow hair was tumbled all over a pretty dimpled face, her eyes were dark and shining: as xhe laughed she showed two rows of little aew tecth, The grocer’s wife pulled her husband by the arm and whispered, “What'd we give fer a baby like that, John?" “Make It $700,"" said the grocer. “Seven hundred dollars,” shouted the auc- tioneer. Seven hundred dollars fer to per- vide fer old mammy all her life. No wonder she’s a-laughin’ at you. The Lemons as a rule is long-lived. Make it a thousand. Come, who'll make it a thousand.” “One thousand dollars,” said the black- smith. “One thousand dollars! Goin’, goin’, goin’ for $1,000. She's worth more'n $1,000, She'll give a body more'n $1,000 wuth of satisfaction. Look at her now. You've skeered her. She's as purty when she cries as when she laughs.” The ‘ittle maid was puckering up her face, the tears were filling hor great dark eyes. ‘She put up her little fat fists and hid her eyes as the auctioneer again turned her to the crowd. “A thousand dollars on a bid, $1,000 on a bid, $1,000 on a bid. ‘The prettiest baby in Two. Hills a-gotn’ fer $1,900. At this moment a carriage that was about to pass came to a standstill. a liverie’ foot- man sprang to the door and the great peo- ple of Two Hills came piling out. “Yes, it ts true,” cried the young lady with the pretty excited face, “they are actually selling a baby. Tom, look at the baby.” The great man of Two Hills looked at the baby and laughed. “What is all the fuss about?” inquired the old lady, peering through her gold- rimmed glasses. “What does Dolly mean by saying they're selling a baby?” “Goln’, goin’, goin’, for 31,00), the pretti- est baby in Two Hills. The money to ke its old grandmother from the poor house: “Eleven hundred,” cried the young lady, waving her black-gloved hand frantically. “Twelve hundred,” said the blackwnith, stubbornly. ‘The great man of the village laughed as he watched the excited bid.ling that tollow- ed between his wife and the man with the stern, set face. “Let the fellow have her,” he said once in a low tone, but the lady waved her hand and called, “Fourteen hundred.” ‘The blacksmith bid as high as fifteen hun- dred dollars; the rich lady made it sixteen and the man turned and walked away. “Gone to Mrs. Eustice at sixteen hundred dollars,” said the auctioneer, making a fine bow, but looking as if he didn't know what to do with the baby. But the great lady ran up to the auc- tioneer and received her property in her arms. “Whose baby are you?” she asked. The pretty face and the question both seemed to please the child. “G’anny’s baby,” she said simply. “Oh, no, you're not G’anny’s baby any longer, but mine,” cried Mrs. Eustice, en- thusiastically. “That was a delicious poeti. cal thing for the auctioneer to do, Tom. You understand he sold the baby to keep the old grandmother from the poor house.” ‘Mrs. Eustice and all the great people were in the carriage now. She was dancing the baby on her lap. “I don't understand,” said the old lady. “I never heard such a thing as selling a white baby.” “But you see I've bought one?” “What are you going to do with it when you get tired of it?” asked the great man. “Yes,” whined the old lady, “what are you going to do with it when you get tired of it?” Margaret Easten, occasionally called Dolly by her grand aunt, cuddled G’anny’s baby very close, then set it out on her knee and bade the others look, and then talk about growing tired. “Yes, she is pretty,” admitted the great man, but you're going to spoil her to death before you tire of her, Margaret. I think it would have been better for the baby if the blacksmith had had a little more money.” “Oh, the idea! She would have spent her time running around the shop; she might even have grown venturesome enough to crawl under the horses. I've seen children crawl under the horses outside a black- smith’s shop.” G’anny’s baby went through a wonderful transformation during the following week, and the people in Two Hills talked about 5 Often and often the blacksmith glancing up suddenly from the horse he was shoeing would behold G’anny’s baby Pointing at him from the carriage window. ‘One day when G’anny’s baby pointed at him from the carriage window the black- smith left his job of shoeing and retired to the interior of the shop. “You couldn't a-done fer her as she'll be done fer, Sam,” said the old man whose horse he had left half shod. “You couldn't made a fine lady out o” her.” ‘No, I couldn’t a-done that,” sald Sam, “There's a fate in things, continied the farmer. “You couldn't git the mother and you couldn't git the child.” To this Sam said nothing. During the summer the news spread through the village that G’anny’s baby was gettin’ kind of cross aud peevish, znd that the great lady had said t> the nurse that it was a mistake for a person to adopt @ child. Two months later it wax declared ively that Mrs. Eustice was going to with her hushand and her great hat G'anny’s baby Ivy fll in the big a tice hal told the doc- tor she never could forgive herself for adopting the child. The sun was about three feet from the top of the gecond hill when the bit of fiy- ing gossip reached the blacksmith’s shop: and it was just sinkin¢ behind the hill when a broad shouldered man walked has- tily across the grounds and entered the big house by the rear way. While the man sat waiting in the brary he took from h's pocket a greasy pocketbook, and opening it, laid the con- tents on his knee. His hand trembled as he counted the notes over to make sure they were all right,sixteen hundred ‘There was a sweep of dainty garments along the hall, and Mrs. Bustice came into the library. She gave a slight start upon recognizing her visitor, regarding him not so much as the blacksmith whom she knew by sight at the shop, but as the m who had bid against her tor Gann “I hear,” said the man slowly, you're goin’ off to Europe.” “Yes,” sald the lady. “Yes, that's true, too. Tt’s been ailing all summer. What did you wish?” Again the biacksmith opened the pocket- book. “I was thinkin’,” be said, “that as the whole transaction ‘was a business one. that now being as you're goin’ away, and the baby’s sick, mebbe as you miglit be willin’ to sell. I'm ready to give you yer price.” ‘Mrs. Eustice was startle. She had ls- mented that reckless squandering of her money at the village auction amore that once, but according to herself. she w honest, “You ought to sce the poor little thing,” she said. “Come, I'll show her to you. Silently Sam Winters followed the great lady to the nursery where the baby tossed in its little crib. “She's had the best of doctors,” said Mrs. Eustice, “but I don't believe anybody knows what's the matter with her. You poor. 'ittle mortal,” she went on, addressing the baby, “here's another person determined to buy you. “I'll give you the sixteea hundred dol- lars,” said the man, huskily. cule pag I doce tt the lives wouldn't be fair. , I Goul till we return. I tell you what, I'll Smee hundred tf you are willing to run 31 It's outlandish selling a baby, but then, you know, { bought her.” She gave a little laugh. Winters counted out the ] it over. ane not by that to after paying the $500 he stooped the Iittle flaming face. “She is delirious with the fident the doctors don’t matter,” said Mrs. tice, The child had fastened “I'll move her right away.” “If you're net afraid; but carriage. He refused almost brusquely that offer of the carriage and wrapping cradle blanket took it in his arms. Down the richly carpeted steps through the broad hall, out into the park and on along the pike hastened the man with his precious bundle, his $00 baby. He did not go to the blacksmith shop or the bachelor quarters behind it, but directly to that little whitewashed cottage where lived the oid woman who had been rescued from the poor house. He went into the house and laid the baby on the hed. “Granny,” he called. softly, “granny!” She came in slowly from the kitchen, shading her old eyes. “Don't you think you kin nurse a little sick baby till she's well?” “A baby." repeated the old woman. “a baby.” She advanced to the bed and Sam Winters uncovered the baby’s face. sick,” he said; “she'll need a lot o° nursin’ The old woman fell on her knees beside the bed. she gathered the baby close in her arms. she swayed to and fro as if she were rocking it: the apathy had vanished from her face, it was as glad as sunshine. “I'll nuss her till she gits well.” she sobbed, “or we'll die together.” Six months had passed away. It was on a beautiful afternoon in the springtime, the roses in Two Hills were ablocm. A carriage drawn by two splendid bays came clattering up the village street. The great people had returned. “Say, my dear, isn't that your baby?” asked Mr. Eustice. Sitting in the doorstep of a little white- washed cottage was a small yellow-haired girl. She was swinging her feet and «ing- ing at the top of her voice. Above her the red roses trailed themselves tuxurionsly. The lady looked out and waved her hand and smiled; the child stopped singing and stared. " said the great “She doesn't know mi lady with a half sigh and a laugh. But the yellow-haired girl rose from the doorstep with alacrity, ran into the cottage and laid her head in the old zranimother's lap, hiding her face. “I'm G’anny’s baby,” she sob! ‘The old woman heard the carriage wheels and the cantering horses. She passed her hand tenderly over the ruMfed vellow head. “Yea, deary.” she said fondly, “and ber ain’t never goin’ to be sole no more.” > —_ ‘as Enough. Once Trom the Green Bag. There is a certain Judge in Chicago who rather prides himself on his vast and varied knowledge of law. The other day he was compelled to listen to a case that had been appealed from a justice of the peace. The young practitioner who appeared for the ap- pellant was long and tedious. He brought in all the elementary text books and quoted the fundamental propositions of the law. At last the judge thought ft was time to make an effort to hurry him up. “Can't we assume,” he said bland; @ court knows a little law itself?” “That's the very mistake I made in the lower court,” answered the young man. “I don’t want to let it defeat me twice. No One Doubt. From the Clothier and Purnisher. Father—I guess you'll have to wear this blue flannel suit of mine. I can’t afford to get you another new one. ‘Son—But it doesn’t fit me. Father—All right. Say it is made in Lon- don. “that ——+°-+ ___— Am Awfal Foe. Alarmed Husband—What's the matter? ‘What are you screaming about? | NORTH CAROLINA POLITICS, | Democrats Divided on Silver—Repabe Means and Populists May Combine ‘Special Correspondeace of The Brening Star. RALEIGH, N. C., September 12, 1888. ‘There has been within the past two weeks more talk in this state regarding politics than in six months previously. There are, to speak plainly, two sides among the democrats, one side espousing the views of President Cleveland and the other those of Senator Vance. ‘The factions in the state have come to be Tegarded as the “conditional repeal men,” who follow the Vance lead, and the “un conditional repeal” advocates, who follow Cleveland. Of course “repeul” meang of the Sherman silver purchase law, which is ‘now the only thing discussed here. Secretary of State Coke is very plain im his language regarding the repeal master. He says that the people of this state are Opposed to the repeal unconditionally, but favor repeal with a Substitute law giving free coinage. He adds, “And if they oan- not get free coinage they must have state banks or a revolution.” Senator Vance has, by the Publication of speech in & couple of letters, ‘and by leaders of populist thought, today of Vance's speech be said that Senator Vence Says editorially “It cannot & pogurting the ‘alliance for future favors ‘these two Will do 80 on stat ties are united present county government the legislature elects the tter choose the county commissien- ers), and also desire to the present county construction of it. You ask North Carolina republicans ing the silver question. We do not want silver mace a der for over $%. The Sherman Saeuees oo have curves Sip Summ ness, ought to be repealed. ‘panic’ was fictitious; created banks to secure the repeal ‘There is no politics in the The commissioner of Heh Be fii i i North Carolina favor They have no but they want a coinage of silver. ee ree id 5g f-f ; Mrs. Henry Peck (ooking up from paper)—“Ah! well, poor Hyson is rid of trouble and misery, at last.” Mr. Henry Peck (in astonishment)—"W 1 didn’t know bis wife was sick! When she die?” nd hie said the regular customer of the side street restaurant as he desk to pay his check, “where that beef you are serving today?” “What's the matter with it?” aggressive: By gated the cashier, who scented another ick. “There's nothing the matter with im that’s why I asked.” dy aoe. ae On a Yachting Cruise, From Tratb. Willie (youthful son of the owner)—“Ie Tiges—' reatariy, Wale Wh “Not particularly, vo" Willie—“Because papa said he was euing to give you a wide one after this.” ——-___ eee ‘Thought Plimmer Was a Boy. From the York Herald. ‘The Turkish bath was crowded. It the busy hour. Every couch was and the attendants were rushing about. tall man, who had what he called a over jag.” had been bathed and until his complexion was a baby pink. was lying on a leather couch preparing hime self for a nap, when the idea entered hie head that he ought to have a towel. “"Tendant, "tendant!” he called. No ate tention was paid to him. He repeated the plaintive cry several times. At last he saw a boy of about six: teen years walking placidly by. His loing were girded up with a towel. “Say, “tendant,” he cried. “bring me @ towel, ‘will you, and be quick about it.” The “boy” posed in front of him for ® moment and looked him carefully over from the top of his head to his bare feet, which stuck out from the end of the sheltering sheet. “Who yer talkin’ to, hoy? he asked scornfuly. os: Bring me a towel.” “What do yer tolk me for?” “If you don't bring me a towel I'll report Soy, I ain't no “tendant. My nolme's Billy Plummer, and if you get hup hoff that couch I'll giver yer all yer want. Hoy!” “Beg pardon, Bill—beg pardon!” and the man who had lost his “hold over” pulled ADT. 4 at yer runnin” fer?” A. D. T. 85 (@ropping a dime novel)—“Goe Frantic Wife—Ob, Geo ge! Quick! Quick! A mouse chased me up the stairs, and I can't lock the door, (Faints.) whizz! Wuz I runnin’? I guess it’s ‘cause I was readin’ how Alkali Ike chased de Ime jun chief—an’ I wus Vinkin’ 1 wus tka”