Evening Star Newspaper, November 25, 1893, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR: */ASHINGTON, D. C. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1893-1 WENITY PAGES. 19 WITH OYSTER DREDGE A Visit to the Home of the Bi- valves ON BOARD AN OYSTER BOAT. —_>—____ How Dredging and Tonging Are Cairied On. AND THE eee ae Written for The Evening Star. ter So bri quart or moh, I'l shuck ‘em at yo" doah, Or dey's fitty cents a bushel in de shell.” This is the happy song of the oyster dealer, who tramps up and down the streets and yelis with startling effect, *Oyst-yers. But the people who tong for oysters, who e exposed to all ing winds that and to th as, do not sing as U @redge for oy kinds of wea: sweep the C element stor One raw November mernin: we landed at what se ers, who © . to the chi! eake bay BS we could the mis", the wind was blowir ‘the northwest, and fter a quarter of a m the wv She land e and see, w found a which we were Belves. rly as it w the commenced to drop in to hear the ston and to learn of the} rr market. mews from Wast Present condition of Many of m were ne form usually consist skin suits and a the 1c sou’ wester rd from de in foun’ out ¢ don't laughed heartily. certainly remarkable; they tion in referring to the @ressin her as gers." ar vidently enjoy lead, notwithstanding Gangers. aol vibe The propriv of beam end jib and w !. Our erew cons! und He: ed into s On: ry, bles’ cunner » helped us knowed redging grov boats ¢ 3 anage enue we would duck to escape the boom. In executing or euvers a sharp g tie or For twenty ught reiu; -hot stove, over to warm our- pon trying Des, TR n i io us ane wall oys: oys bad the its hardships and * carried led with a deep into of of wind struck us the shore, the sail filled In an instant and jf from the lower Potomac will be much less. A GOO VALU "m er salt water oys- out yo" ket- yo’ y can, cen SS the boom commenced to swing with terrible velocit; Duck quick, gen'Imen! yellea rete, ile he and Henry sprang to te boom with an agility that was wonderous, aud holding on to the voum like grim deatn Zave us time to get out of the way. Pete over the gunwale, until one arm ater. He an- with one leg, d was over, as quick- jambered into the boat arm one leg completely jis good humor was not in the ed, and he laughed over the theugh the weather was warm a dip in the water a luxury. with one drenched. matter 2 and on Board Dredger. After securing ap shots of oystermen at work we asked permission to go aboard one of the b did not seem to be alarmed at our appear- ance among the oys' The boat belonged to the cl terman a and had a very little cabin, and as there was a good J fire burning in the tiny cook stove we i the ch: from the biting northwest greeable. ye" No. (the boat's chris- . Smyth), welcomed us a cordial mann After becoming thor- oughly warmed we we.at on deck to watch 's whose captain called, by the cozy The captain of “bug-e lies: So far Baie in the nee ; from | the movements of the men who were work- = fale a ir e dredzes, ere are two dredges on narf, we found thei boots wu bar'l of oysters Washington, Lum?" w no he: or in a nd “n life foresail n dis island,” these man- fr lates r o hat and yarn hese | 1 he | negroes | humor d- nged for onter roe: nat, one on hoisted and lower ‘The constrv such a nature tha’ along the bottom is rele: ea either side, which are -1 by means of a wind- ion of the dredges is of the jaws open and drag when the strain on the 1 and close as soon as g rope is tightened. Each windlass -1 by two men, who are kept at work, hoisting the dredges, @ oysters ‘and in ducking their as S z 8 z 8 8 a 4 3 Z & 5 Rn 2 g $ 3 gz 3 3 about in sailing back and ster beds. sriinug the Oysters. As the dredges are hoisted over the side of the boat the oysters are not only sorted out from the shells and bits of stone that are brought up by the dredges, but the oys- ters are picked over and divided into two grades, the best of which are called “for- ward oysters.” These oysters are now worth 50 cents per bushel in market, and Ss the average yield of dredging is about a each time the dredges are hoisted, a amount of work has to be done by the tain of an oyster dredger in order to pay the necess: sand leave any- thing over for the The dredging is usually conducted in water ing from six feet to fourteen feet in 4 ih, an trange to say, the best pysters i nost productive part of the net the dredger the least are usually taken during < month of the season, which op as oysters are more and the demand less, less for his labor, in proportion to the quantity of oysters taken, | than later in the season when oysters bi breakf: of his} come bh plentiful and the price conse- , isit the oyster | quently higher. = ie belongs to the | “phe Crew of an Oyster Dredger. thirty fect in. eight feet breadth | The captain of the S. S. Smyth said that the men are paid $15 per month and board, and that the food consists of corn bread, white bread, potatoes and other vegetables and meat. The life of an oyster dredger is by no mens a pleasure t From the Ist of No- | vember until the s n closes, the weather is likely to be cold and disagreeable. It lis far from plea: of a boat all day lon: ing from the northwest until are chilled and your fin: j away at a wind and sort the o: | freezing to them, but this Is what an o; |dredger has to expect and what he self to de 2 he ships on an oyster And s this may seem, the "s lot is equally as hard, for he 1s tand at the wheei all day long nt to stand on the deck with the wind blow- your bones nd en the cold without the opportunity *| to warm himself by the exercise of tugging at the windlass. Dredge. nowledged that there ases of cruelty among the oys- s, but claimed that in a majority ases the trouble arcse from the in- » crew and the conse- aptain to maintain Speaking of his own that he never had any that they were negroes near him and who realized that Were just, and they were always with chderfuiness. — noticed part cipline, “4 und that they were » doubly protected by which served to keep well as the wet. They rs promptly when { ach other to clear ers and shells dumped iges. If they were it was not shown they entered upon the showed they were dor il treated manne! with fe | wor int, y The Oyster Crop of 1892. seems to be the off year for oysters. the qnatity seems to be above that the ordinary seasons the yield of oyst: h ™m ers | t with a camera. | the crew of the sorting the oysters | ‘nea This is attributed by the oystermen to a severe storm which occurred over a month ago and which washed the sand over the oyster beds, When this happens if the oysters are not soon uncovered by the com- ing of a storm from another direction the oysters commence to turn black and soon die. This covering the oyster beds with sand occurred for a long distance down Ciesa- peake bay, and beds which have been a favorite resort for oyster dredgers for years have this year been abandoned as not worth dredging, Oyster fishing on the lowe> Potomac rep- resents an important industr; In one county in Maryland up to November 15, 1893, S77 licenses were granted to individ- uals to tong for oysters in that county. This represents a revenue to the state for these licenses of $3, ! from one county. But the “tongers” do not represent all of the people engaged in oystering from that county, as many of the inhabitants are empl no individual license is required, but in lieu of it the captain of the boat secures a license for the boat, and the amount of the boat license is regulated by the tonnage of the boat, the rate being $3 per ton. The dredging boats have displayed on their sails, the number of the license issued to them. This is for their own protection from interference by the police boat, which my Oysters. is always on the lookout for oyster pirates, and if a boat should be found dredging without a number on her sails the police boat would pay an unwelcome visit within a short time. Tonging for oysters often proves more lucrative than dredging, but as “tongers” usually use small boats, th cannet work in rough weather, but easily clear from $2 to $3 in favorable weather. Upon ending our visit to the S. S. Smyth, the captain kindly put us upon shore by running the “bug-eye” aground, where by walking out on the bowsprit, we were taken safely upon the broad shoulders of Pete to dry ground. Our return from the dredging ground was less exciting than our outwacd trip, and when we started for the steamer to return to Washington we left Pete and Henry at the country s®ore, relating the incidents of the scare we had given the “drudgers” (as they termed them) to an eager throng of listeners. No use for ‘em to try for ‘scape our ‘eun- " Henry was saying as we walked CHARLES E. F. away. «06 TROUBLE IN A CHOCOLATE DROP. Taken at the Theater, the Confection May Disagree With a Person. As he gave up his tickets at the door, to have the coupons torn off them, there was something about the air of the clean-shaven gentleman that would have proclaimed him a clergyman, though he had worn clothes of a harlequin instead of the conventional suit of black with long coat and round white collar. The expression on his pallid countenance was not that of one who seeks carnal amusement. One could not help wondering why he had come to the theater, unless per- haps it were for the purpose of making ob- servations privately and subsequently preaching on the sins and frivolities of this world before audience too much given on six days of the week to such sports and pastimes, However, he handed his checks promptly to the usher and stood aside w the four ladies of exempla portment who accompanied him filed into their seats. Then he sat down, putting his black hat beneath his own seat and apparently devot- ing himself to reflection on matters far away from his environment of the moment. The fou> ladies whispered together in an undertone. From the gr: with which they conversed it might have been taken for granted that their talk was not of bon- nets, nor yet of any other frivolous matters. Their own headgear was of the plainest, and they seemed to eye with disapproval two large and tall hats which were inter- posed between themselves and the stage. It was observable that each of them worea dge of the W T. U., though why these insignia were displayed in such a place they alone could have explained. His Jolly Neighbor. Immediately in front of the clergyman was seated a stout gentleman of jolly ap- pearance, who, after the curtain rose, con- tinually applauded the actors on the stage. He was evidently enjoying himself im- mensely, and from time to time he took a large piece of what looked like candy from his coat pocket and ate it. Perchance he was a parishioner of the individual first described, for the latter took occasion be- tween the acts to touch him on the shoul- der and e ge him in conversation. After exchanging a few brief remarks on ‘the weather, which was bad, and on the status of the Hawaiian question, which was deem- ed worse, the representative of the orthodox divinity—his costume declared him anti- Briggs as plainly as possible—said: “Give me one of those chocolate drops. see you have a pocket full.” “I didn’t know that you indulged,” replied the stout man, with a wink over his shoul- der. “Oh, yes; occasionally clergyman, rece’ object of considerable size fingers of his friend. “Don't bite it,” i I do,” said the ving, as he spoke, a black the fat rom cauth ust put it into your mouth all at once.” The person in black did as he was bid, and then proceeded to masticate the sup posed chocolate drop. Suddenly b= became purple in the face and w: zed with a most alarming fit of coughing, sputtering and gasping in a manner so painful that he seemed actuaily on the point of choking to The attention of hi vudien cited, and the fou> badges pro! nh sympathetic anxiety written in the countenances. Three or four unfeeling neighbors expressed a notion that it was some kind of a fit. Ry the time that the clergyman cly recovered from his “fi about five minute had which was several persons near by in the audience had begun to sniff and up th . One of them said, ell brand, nother concurred in ion. The four ladies with the T. U. badges looked suspicious and smelled their handkerchiefs, which they had recovered. Then they became exceeding- ly grave. Though casting now and again a sidelong glance at their escort in black, they exchanged not a word with him or with each other during the rest of the per- formance. As they passed out of the theater, the t man overtook them, and, touching the clerical gentleman on the shoulder, said: “Old feller, I thought you knew those shoc’late drops wash filled wiz brandy.” School Sick. From Puck. “Say; where are you go- ing Johnny Gunn Wilke Staome—“Confound him! Why didn’t he tell me he was going to be sick? and T wouldn't have been sick, myself, to- hooting. Ain't no school ed on the dredgers, and in such cases | THE NE OF roughest things in this world is to know it all, yet be unable to find any one else who knows how much you know. Another experience almost as rough is to be awfully smart, yet be unable to find your proper place in the world. So thought Joe Shuright frequently, and the thought returned to him powerful- ly one Wednesday evening in late Novem- ber as he sauntered through some streets near “Newspaper Row.” in New York, and not far trom the city’s great market. Joe was of rural birth, and so studious and quick-witted that he really did know much that could be learned from books; indeed, he knew so much before he came of age, and was so persistent in airing his wisdom, that he made himself cordially hated by every sensible person within range of his voice. As to that. he knew so much more than his own father and mother that he shortened the days of those really estimable persons by his contemptuous manner. Among other things, Joe knew just how a newspaper should be edited, but there was nothing wonderful in that, for the man who doesn’t think he can give points to the ablest editor alive is hard to tind. In search of his proper place Joe had come to the city, where minds as great as his did most congregate, and by rare luck he had found an editor who would allow him to try his hand on small jobs when all the trusty reporters were otherwise occupled. It was a rare experience for the novice, though rare fun for an expert, to listen to Joe as he dissected the paper fresh from the press, particularly when his own. bril- liantly written report of m1 blance to the original copy. Still, Joe knew it all. and he also knew that his proper place was waiting for him somewhere; to be conscious of all this was to be at least partially armored against not easily make acquaintances, for through some mysterious influence the metropolis was as quick as the country in fighting shy of the man who knew everything. When time hung heavily on Joe's hands in the otfice, and Joe endeavored to improve it by unloading concentrated wisdom upon his associates, these unappreciative fellows be- gan with one accord to make excuses and to disappear, to the great annoyance of the city editor. It was after several such hints that Joe had himself gone out of the office on the evening alluded to. The other re- porters had been discussing some of a recent election, and they had declined to accept Joe's conclusions, Joe had borne patiently with them, and even revealed to the whole crowd his great mathematico-in- teliectual scheme for beating the bookmak- ers at the races, but the fellows brutally declared that they had heard of such schemes before, so Joe loftily shook the dust of the office from his feet and went into the outer air to cool his seething brain. ife found men, women and children, all | loaded with baskets, bags or packages, »wding from the market to the various car lines, so Joe began at once to argue with himself against the custom, born of tradition, of making a special feast day of the last Thursday of November. What tools men would make of tuemsi the sake of a tradition! Why, one of the fellows in the office—a man with six chil- dren and therefore old enough to know better—had offered to give $15 on pay day to any one who would lend him $10 th: Wednesday afternoon. Joe could have lent | the amount, for, th: was a few dollars ahead of his and he was not above pocketing ome fool had seen fit to lose it, could not bring himself to enc foolery of conforming to a but urage the tom which had no significance nowadays—not if he knew himself. It mu st be admitted that Joe, being rened a little when right be- side St. Paul’s Church; he was wishing he Washington on the first f when suddenly he saw a dle-aged man and a handsomé young woman struggling with two baskets and several refractory bundles. He could not help, though he tried, remembering that he had seen his father and his elder sister in similar plight on the road from the village to the an- cestral farm, for as the “old man’s” acres produced neither turkeys nor fancy. gro- ceries and tropical fruits, and as his father had the silly habit of making a great af- fair of buying the Thanksgiving “fixin's and at the same time regarded his work horses’ comfort more than his own, he! would persist in carrying all the things om the village to the farm, and the elder ughter would persist in going down the read to meet and help him. although Joe had frequently demonstrated to the whole family, by figures, that the old man fre- quently carried heavier loads on the farm as a matter of course: if the family would not understand it, Joe was not to blame for their intellectual incapacity, Somehow the middle-aged man and the handsome young woman and the baskets and bundles went to Joe's heart, and his conscience kicked his manners to the sur- facs, so he approached the couple and said to the man: “[ beg your pardon, but you seem to be overloaded. Tve a few minutes to spare: won't you let me help you?” “Won't I? Well, rather! If you'll take hold of the other side of this biggest basket and help me along two or three minutes I'll be eternally obliged to you. I don’t know how {t's come about, but the Thanksgiving things weigh a good deal more than they did twenty years ago, when there were moze appetites to provide for. Angie, let this young man put his grip cn the basket Joe raised his hat, and was glad to dis- play what manners he had, for really, he didn’t like to see good looking women work. ‘The girl made a mild protest, but Joe made light of it, and took the handle with the masterful air he had acauired at home through much bullying of his sisters. His hand brushed that of the girl, which caused him to insist upon relieving her of the packages she carried. Then he felt ashamed of himself for having conformed even a lit- ue to the spirit of the day, so he proceeded the stings of outrageous fortune. He did | results | es for! nks to his father, he | uau been tere, a little more than a hun- dred years earlier, to give some points to ! the preacher who addressed President guration day, | to offend you, but I do hate superstitions with all my heart, soul and strength, and You must have been brought up in the country,” interrupted the owner of the basket. "Joe winced, and growled: “What makes you think so?” “Oh, there was some Scripture in_your last remark. City folks don’t use it. You're from the centrai part of the state, aren't you?” Joe was obliged to admit that he was, though he wondered why a plain-looking old fellow like the owner of the basket should have known it. “Shouldn't wonder if you were a Shu- right,” the middle-aged man continued. You've got their cut of face. Ain’t I right?” “You certainly are,” said Joe, abashed, for the first time in his life, by wisdom which was beyond his ken. “Thought so,” the middle-aged man went on. “You're the drawn image of Kip Shu- right of Middle Creek Township.” “He's my father,” Joe admitted, though in his secret heart he was ashamed to be identified by his resemblance to so common- place looking a man as his father. Then it was the middle-aged man’s turn to be astonished; again he dropped the handle of the basket, as he said: “Well, I want to know! doing here in New York?” The question seemed repeated by the eyes of the young woman, and is they were glorious eyes, beside being quite searching, Joe pulled himself together with all his dignity, and replied: “I am here in search of my proper place in life.” “Umph!” exclaimed the middle-aged man. resuming his grip on the basket. ‘Just what Il came for, thirty years ago. Your father would have come too—he and I were friends—but some death in the family pr vented. ‘Twas luck for him—everyboc who knows him respects him, but in this big city I'm the nobodiest of nobodies.”” “Father!” exclaimed the handsome young woman reproachfully. Joe had heard his What are you tone, to his own father, under provocation somewhat similar, when he, Joe, thought the old man was about right and thought his sister very silly; now, however, he look- ed admiringly at the handsome young woman and said: “Give it to him, Miss—Agnes, ! think your father called you. No one is nobody when he really thinks so.” “Listen to that, father,” said the young woman, who at the same time threw a grateful look to Joe. The young man tok it, and felt much the better for getting it; nevertheless, he could not forget the idea which had that @vening taken possession of his brain, so he said: “Regarding Thanksgiving day, I think it’s a confounded humbug. Business stopped entirely: church services in the middle of the week; everybody pretending that they've a lot to be tha 1 for, : been grumbling like sin haven't gone better wita u: year. There wouldn't be any this idiotic nation weren't po a tight grip upon every that— old association “Idiotic, eh?” interrupted the owner of the baskets. “I wish such idiocy were catch- ing, and lasted as long as lepré The more we can have of it, the better off this nation will be.” “It's plain enough to see that you're of Yankee blood,” said Joe; but the old man replied: “Not unless a man is short-sighted, it isn’t. My folks strayed up from the south three generations ago; been in York state ever since, but the old stuff is in us all the same. Perhaps the marks have been rubbed off of me, I being old and shabby, but look j at that gt f you knew national traits and signs, you could see some Huguenot nch in her features, and some English Catholic that's a Maryland addition to the various strains of blood in the family. But, of course, you can’t be expected to be inter- ested in such things. Perhaps Joe wasn’t, but he couldn't resist the invitation to look for the racial traits alluded to, and as just then the trio had come under a powerful street light, Joe looked so intently that the girl laughe. a blushed and averted her face. Her father by that time seemed to be thinking of some- thing else, for he asked: “Found your place in life yet?—you said you'd come to New York to look for it. “No,” said Joe, “but I believe that or later [ will. All things come to who waits.” Then he looked sidew, the girl, hoping to get a look of approval for his courage. He was not entirely di appointed, but just then the older man re- plied “Right you are. I waited—waited a long time, but I got there at last.” “Indeed?” Joe looked inquirinely at the man; he had heard that some of the solid citizens of New York still did their own marketing and carried the goods home with them for fear of dishonest substitutions. Could this man, so ordinary of appearance, be a millionaire? Joe was prepared to be. lieve it, if so told, for he had seen several city magnates of business, and been dis- | | gusted by their commonplace appearance. So he asked: May I inquire what it Is? “Certainly. I'm a typesetter on the Watcher, and the happiest husband, father and erandfather in the United States, I couldn't be better off if I were to be elect- ed President.” “Here's our car, father,” said the girl, at- tempting to take the packages from Joe's ar mon the Watcher myvelf,” remarked Joe, getting on the car with’ the couple, “so I don’t believe you need be afraid of my company a few moments longer. I—I > meet old friends of my fathe every The owner of the basket looked search- ingly at Joe as the two men sat dow by side; Joe returned the glance = fiantly, for he suspected that his f; being searched for the traces of v mon to young men who come to cities. The older man seemed finally satis- fied, for he laid his hand confident Joe’s knee and said: “Speaking about Thanksgiving day, we were a while azo, and _ tions—that was what you s sorry to find your father such nonsense in his head. ing that w: birthright, tance.” “Nonsense!” exclaimed Joe, lying manner which he had as bout supersti- id—I'm awfully son with any If you're think- you're going back on your and squandering your inheri- with the bul- brought from home. “Thanksgiving is only a Yankee custom; there's no reason for inflicting it upon the vhole country—north, south, east replied the older man, “there's no way of keeping ourselves a whole coun. try unless all of us—north, south, east and west—hold hard and fast to all the old asso- ciations of all the sections. Until you get that into your head so tight that it can’t get out again you won't be a full-fledged Amer- jean. About finding your place, though— to make an ass of himself by remarking: “Thanksgiving, I think you said? Isn't it about time for Americans to give up ‘that antiquated nonsense? I can prove to you in two minutes that the Puritan Thanksziving custom has no significance whatever at the present time. I have——"* Just then the whole weight of the basket feli upon Joe's hand and a plump young turkey slid toward the gutter, while the young woman, who was walking a pace or two in front, turned an inquiring and re- preachful face, and the middle-aged man, after recovering the turkey, remarked: “Young man, you started to do me a service, and I'm much obliged to vou for it, but When you come to abusing Thanks- giving day it's time for us to part com- pany. Daughter, take the other side of that basket, please.” The girl attempted to obey her father, but Joe objected; he tried not to be rude, ceeded fairly; besides, he had the bundles on his left arm, and she could well receover them aiso without a not u struggle to which she seemed disinclined. Joe made haste to say, as he tightened his grasp on the handle of the basket. “You'll be rid of me in a moment; I guess you can,endure me that long. 1 didn't mean how have you got along?" Joe's answer was an arraiznment of the Watcher, of business, society, the human intellect and pretty much everything else in the world, and the older man nodded so intelligently at each statement that Joe began to think that he was a first-class fel- low, with a head full of brains. When the story was finished Joe looked slyly at the young woman for similar encouragement, but to his surprise and somewhat to his dis. gust he found himself being contemplated as if he were a new species of wild animal. But the old man exclaimed “By Jove, you make me feel twenty years younger. Seems as if somebody had taken me down in shorthand, on the sly, when I was about your age and used to free my mind at the village store, and you'd got at his notes. Small world, after all, isn’t it? To think that I should meet Kip Shuright’s son, here in New York, and hear him gi off my old speeches! Now, daughter, know just what sort of man your father used to be before he got acquainted with your mother. Wonder how it seems to you?” ¥Joe wondered, too, although he suspected that he already knew; he stole another elder sister say the same word, in the same | * glance at the girl and saw, to his great re- lief, that there was a smile on her face. The older man continued “See here; seeing you're Kip Shuright’s Son, what's to prevent you taking Thanks- giving dinner with us tomorrow? “Twon't be anything great, but it will be better than anything you can buy at a restaurant. I don’t have to work tonight, so come up as early as you like in the morning, if you have an easy night of it yourself. I'd like to ask you about a lot of folks in the old neighborhood, if you won't be bored.” Joe wasn’t sure that it would be a pleas- ure to talk about the various fossils of Middle Creek township—of course they were fossils, but just then he caught the eye of the young woman, who seemed to be half wishing he would accept the invitation, so once lore he got his entire stock of manners together so well that he succeeded in say- ing that it would give him great pleasure to dine with an old friend of his father. Then he hurried back to the office, with the hope that there might by chance be something for him to do. There wasn't, so he lounged ata desk and thought about the middle-aged man who had come to the city in search of his proper place and was now satisfied to be typesetter, husband, father and grand- father. Well, what else could be expected of a countryman of the last generation? Probably the old chap had no educatior |perhaps he was devoid of ambition. By ; the way, he would have a chance, if he went early, to argue that Thanksgiving question with the old man. He would do it cheerfully and respectfully, for Agnes—what jorious eyes that girl had!—Agnes might be present or within hearing, and it would never do to say anything rude to her father, whom she seemed to regard with great ten- derness. Strange how girls persisted in do- ing that sort of thing, always throwing away their feelings upon men who were strongest and most hardened to life’s bur- dens, while there were hosts of ardent | young souls longing for sympathy and ap- preciatior His own sisters had always Leen fussy about their father—always atten- tive to the old man’s remarks, while the frequently sniffed—actually sniffed—at Joe’ deliverances of wisdom. Still, Agnes—Joe looked at the address the father had pen- ciled and found that the girl's last name was Moreway—Miss Moreway’s face indi- cated a superior mind ps she would understand what Joe’s own sisters had been unable to see in their brother. He did wish, though, that during the evening something would turn up at the office — something (great, when all the older reporters, those stupid old fellows of whom the editors seemed to think so much, were away, so that he might write the matter up in his best style and have something to show the girl, just to indicate how smart he could be when he got a fair chance. But nothing great turned up; Joe was sent to interview a_ semi-important politician who had suddenly come from the west, and the questions he asked were so feeble and pointless that the editor had said he thought Joe was best suited tp Sunday school work and the reporting church sociables—this Oo a young who knew he could make the Watcher twice as interesting and breezy if he could sit in the editorial chair a few da; e Straightway made a mental memorandum to have a confidential chat about the paper with old Moreway, and learn, if he could, why men of no special hess were selected for important editorial positions. When, however, he reached the modest apartments in which the Morewa: lived he learned that his host had suddenly been called to the sick bed of a friend, and would not return for an hour or two. Miss Agnes | aid what she could to entertain the guest 2 the meantime, and although she occ: sionally excused herself to give some sistance to her mother, and returned with an odorous suggestion of the kitchen in her garment Somehow, although he did his full shzre of his favorite subjects, the chief of which w: himself. The girl was so interesting that he let her lead the conversation, and as her tastes bad followed directions almost un- known to him, he could do little but follow respectfully and admiringly. If his sisters had been so handsome and smart, and— yes, and sweet! Part of his plan of life Was to marry a millionaire’s daughter,when he found his proper piace, but, really, Agnes Moreway would make some man a most satisfactory wife. Joe was so desirous of impressing Miss Moreway favorably that when the head of the family returned he tried to make him- self agreeable and show the old man that he was much more tha ung man fro: the country. ht forth some of his st thoughts and conclusion: ffairs, but he was rather annoved aving the older man frequently take the words from his mouth and improve upon them. Finally Joe became so impressed with the sense of the old man that.» ceased to be condescending, and became ing to learn. Moreway said some things which Joe remembered to have heard from his own father in other days, though he had afterward reconstructed them and claimed them for his own. As the chat con- tinued, Joe began to wonder why Moreway was not owner and editor of the Watcher, in place of the heavy-brained capitalist who was the head of the concern. the wonder grew until Joe was obliged to ask the question inly. “Why not?” the old man echoed. “Weil, there are a lot of reasons. While he was nting for capital I was hunting for a ; each of us got what he was atier, and I do pnvy him, although 1 know he envied m rsisted Joe, “you must have had other chances, or seen them.’ “re urawied ine old mai as one of them turned up my wife fell very 4, and she'd nave died 4 1 naan t givea her my whole Ume for several Months; after that I had to work almost douvie hours for a year to make up for lost ume. 1 could have had a splendid place once by going west, but the children were hale grown then, and I'd have had to tear up the whole tumily by the roots, and I never saw good transplanting done in that way. Then I took a hand in the war, tike thousands of other family men on both sides. I've never been sorry for it, but the world went four | years past me while that was going on, and it took a long time to catch up—you know the old saw about a stern chase being a long one. 1 was asked once to ran for Con- gress, and though perhaps I shouldn't say it, my friends did say that I was a lot smarter than the man that took the nomi- nation and got there,but what was the use’ Certain things were expected from the suc- cessful man that I couidn’t and wouldn't ao. Then one of my boys—my oldest son— made a great strike in southern lands, and wanted me to go in with him—wanted some one he could trust, he said. I took the will for the deed, and ‘twas worth taking, I can {tell you. I hope you may find out some day j how it feels, for the boy gave all the credit to me—said I brought him up and taught him everything he knew. You see, the other children were getting their education | just then, and doing it splendidly, too, all ef them being sharp witted and persistent, So the upshot of it is, here I am, sixty years old and setting type for about $30 a week.” “And feeling that y failure,” added Joe, i pity. our life has been a in tones of genuine ‘ailure,” echoed Agnes,with a voice that caused Joe to look quickly at her, and then look long, with an expression that made the girl blush deeply as the young man said: “IT beg our pardon. In at least on: spect it has been a magnificent succes “Failure!” exclaimed the old man. “Why, you blessed idiot—excuse me, I’ve often said that to your father and he didn’t get mad. Why, I wouldn't trade my career for that of any man alive.” “But,” said Joe, somewh said the other d re- at timidly, “you that you came to N York to find your proper place. You've proved, by your own statements,that you've been ‘ound fit for high positions, but- “But I couldn't be what I taken them, and I'd rather be whet than what I might have been. I touidan have been oth if I'd taken the chances hat were offered me and w! al that w d when they were “Yet you said place. “Young man,” said Moreway. both shoulders’ of his old frie man’s proper place is wherever he chenec to find himself, provided he's done hie heel best. Keep that in mind and you'll novos have any excuse to think your life a fain ure. “No, indeed,” said Agnes, tenderly kiss- Ing her father and bestowing not a sincle glance upon the guest. Joe did not seem sorry, though, for her handsome face seme ed a thousand times more attractive through the look of affection that came into it while the girl gently drew her fath- er's head to her shoulder. The dinner was very good and, as Joe swallowed his conceit with the roast tur- key and other edibles, he succeeded in mak- ing quite agreeable company of himself. Within a few days he began to write affec- tionate letters to his father and mother, brothers and sisters. This was so unlike him that the senior Shuright feared that Joe was getting ill, while Joe’s mother be- lieved that her son had “got religion.” ‘The young man went home several times @ r, and was so much of a gentleman in his manners that his younger brothers sat = to hear him talk instead of hurry- : a3 n= -# ald. to wet away from the sound of his voice. A year later he insisted “sae the entire Moreway family go out to the Shuright homestead at his ex- pense to spend Thanksgiving day, and his solicitude that his sisters shoul like Agnes Moreway was the cause of much whispered conversation and many smiles. am now if a you had found your proper sripping d’s son, “a Joe found her capital company. | the talking, Joe could not get upon any of | on men | ‘but just j Yet Joe remained a simple reporter on the Watcher—not one of the Dest, either, in spite of much forbearance on the “part of city editor and much coaching from Moreway. One day he reached the office to find an unexpected change; the old city ed- itor had disappeared and in his chair sat Moreway, who said: |_ “Well, young man, you'll have to put up with a new boss. Bilisey has gone west to start a paper of his own and the proprie- tor has somehow got it into his head that I am the proper man to take his place. I don’t know what I'm going to do, I'm sure. I'm afraid some of the boys will kick— they’! think I’m not in my proper place. “Well, sir,” said Joe respectfully, “per- haps you can get some comfort out of what an old friend of my father said to me @ | year or more ago.” h? What was that?” ““Twas only this—‘A man’s proper place is wherever he chances to find himself, so long as he’s doing his level best.’ ” “Oh,” said the old man, looking down quickly and then looking up again. “Well, | how does that idea strike you, now that | you've had time to think about it?” Retter and better,” was the reply. ‘How are you going to like being ruled by an old type setter?” First-rate, though I'd like to get solider with him.” “Umph! Of course. No way to do that, except by doing the best work in the best manner.” “TI beg your pardon, but there's an ad- ditional way I'd like to try if you've no | objections.” h? What's that?” T’d like to be ruled by an old type set- ter’s daughter too—twould break the force of the blow, don’t you think so?” “Confound your stupidity! Don't you | know that any man’s a fool who brings his | private business into a newspaper office?” |_ “Fire in the dry goods district, sir.” sala jan office boy who had been listening to a little bell that had been ringing spitefully. The old man snetched a blank, filled it out, handed it to Joe and said et off to that fire—quick? sir. And about that other matter?” Report to Agnes for orders—but not until the fire copy has been handed in. Then I hope that. . “That I'll find my proper place?” No; that she'll find hers, God bless her.” And both of them found it. —+—_—_+e-—_____ BLACK WALNUT FARMING. Virginia Producing a Limited Quan- tity of This Valuable Timber. Twelve carloads of black walnut logs passed through Washington yesterday over the Richmond and Danville road en route to Philadelphia. These logs were con- signed by Mr. James Nichols of Wood Grove, Loudoun county, Virginia, who is in the business of picking up black walnut trees here and there in the mountains of Virginia near his home and getting them to market. Mr. Nichols accompanied his logs to Philadelphia, and while in Wash- ington gave a Star reporter some idea of his interesting occupation. “Black walnut is worth twice as much nowadays,” said Mr. Nichols, “as it was ten years ago. The supply is practically | exhausted. Ten years ago there was a big quantity in sight in southern Indiana— great trees eighty feet high to the first limb, and from three to five feet in diame- ter. But all that is gone and Missouri has the only supply of any considerable amount, and that is melting away fast. These logs of mine came from the woodlands on top of the Katoctin range. They are none of them what would be called first-class. A | few years ago nobody would think of buy- ing them. That, indeed, is why they are im my hands today. Thousands of just | such logs have been cut and used for fire- wood by Virginia farmers, and every little while I hear nowadays of some old back- woods mossback who has burned up a $50 log in his $2 cook stove. That is a thing to make you swear, but those old fellows can’t read or write, and see few outsiders, so they do just as they did fifty years ago.” Southwestern West Virginia. “I found, the other day a black walnut plank ar feet wide nailed up in a Vir- ginia barn, where it had been fer twenty years waiting until its owner could get the three or four & necessary to pay for getting it made into a good kitchen | table. That worth money four good cherry hard to find four-f up plank, just as it stood, was to buy the old man i tell you, it is ot black walnut logs in people I met what land d there. y ‘if you go back aways it ad for fifty cents an.acre.” “I was through that way last summer, and that same land, which I unluckily did | no! r and t buy, s stripped of its heavy timber, they were bbing out numerous -k walnut stumps, which they told me | were worth anywhere from §W to $100 for the splendid sound burl veneering to be cut from them. These little s that wé ship from the Katoctins will seldom square over four- teen inches, but they are sound and make |} a good quality of lumber. I pay about | twelve cents a si ‘e fooi in the log, the owner grubbing the tree out by the roots, according to my directions. If a tree will cut into a log fourteen feet long, it does well. The farmers are glad to get rid of them, for the black walnut is not a much of a shade tree. Nothing will grow under it on account of the peculiar acid-like quali- ty of the tree, and there is hardly a tree that grows that sends its limbs and roots farther laterally, so that it despoils a good deal of land. If a farmer can by expend- ing $5 worth of labor take out a tree that will bring him $12 to $15, and leave him soil enough to bring in $6 or $8 hereafter in crops, why, he is making a good thing of tt. 1 ton an average $100 per 1,000 feet r the black walnut I take to anarket. Theré is a good margin between buying and Selling, but the quantity to be had is se limited that it is not a safe or very profit- able business to be engaged in. It would pay me, or any one, to put my whole e into it. And let me tell you this: If you want to leave your children and grandchildren a fortune, buy some worthless mountain land and plant black walnuts. You can get thousands of acres for a dollar an acre in some parts of Virginia and West Vir- ginia, and the walnuts are to had in almost endless quantity every fall anywhere with- in forty or fifty miles of Washington. The tree really grows rapidly, notwithstanding its strong acid character and peculiarly dark, firm grain. If you chose to cut @ | tree fifteen years old, you could make money time. planting them for that length of It is a good crop to try. piensa It Was Ever Th From Life.