Evening Star Newspaper, December 23, 1893, Page 20

E WAS A WOE-BE- gone object as he rode up to the Rita Blanca ranch house. His clothes were in rags; his immature freckled face sharp with anxiety and pos- sibly with hunger. The diminutive, flea- bitten gray pony he rode seemed to share in his dejection; man and beast looked as though life had used them ill, and turned to them only its harsh- est side. Clark Sargent was manager of the Rita Blanca. which was owned by an English company. It was a clean, well run, closely manageé concern, and a very unpromising Place for shirks, sweaters or loafers of any sort. C.ark himself was sitting on the porch as this forlorn-looking pair came up. “No,” he said in reply to a request for work, “we're not taking on any hands now.” Then, as he noted the look of abject despair that settled upon the thin face, “get down and rest and have some dinner. You look sick. “No, I ain't sick,” was the answer hastily and anxiously given. “I hain’t been sick. I'm jest tired an’ hungry. I been ridin’ all day.” Clark had just come in from where all the headquarters hands, including the cook @or your genuine ranch cook is al- ways a rider, too, and quite as liable as not to be the best broncho buster and handler of cattle in the force) were gather- ing two-year-olds for shipment, and there Was no one at the ranch house but himself. As he set out some cold grub and put the coffee pot on the stove he glanced at the man from time to time. Something in the meager form—that looked like a boy's only because it was not strong and well-nour- ished enough for a man’s—touched his sym- pathies. “Why, you are not able to do a cowboy's work,” he said, speaking almost sharply, because he was annoyed with himself for feeling inclined to employ the poor fellow against his business instincts and for Pity’s sake alone. “O, yes, I am, sir. I'm a heap abler than what I look. I'm used to it. I been out in more northers, an’ worked to stop more stampedes than I've got fingers an’ toes. I can stand anything, if I c’u'd jest git a stiddy job. I been out of work—ain’t had no stiddy job for six months; that’s what's used me up so.y" was that Clark put Thomp- Lefty, the sobriquet his lefthand- had earned for him in the free and ‘style of the plains, where a man’s con- spicyous feature or trait dubs him, on the There wa} no complaint from the boss of any lack of ability, capacity or energy on Lefty’s part; and no remarks of any kind from Lefty himself. He seemed only too well satisfied, and most anxious to please. But one morning, when Clark was riding across the Minneosa pasture, he saw one of nis cowboys dismounted and sitting on the iy Took a Drink. ground beside his pony, which was grazing. As the figure remained motionless, he rode | nearer to see what was the matter, and recognized in the crouched form, with its head on its knees, Lefty. He called to him by name. Lefty raised his face, wiping his mouth furtively. “£ git a little dizzy, sometimes,” he said appealingly, “when | ride right hard; I ain't hurt, Mr. Sargent; | ain't sick.” “Good God, boy,” said Clark, looking at the blood-spatters on the brown plains and on the shirt other was trying vainly to cover with that trembling left hand, “you've had a hemor- rhage! Go right up to the house as soon as you ean.” Letty staggered to his feet, ¢linging to his saddie-horn, in ‘a pitiful ef- fort to pull bimseif together, and look ail | right. “Mr. Sargent,”” he said, beseechingly, “this ain't nothin’; it don't interfere with my work none; an’ you don’t know how bad 1 hate to be knockin’ about from one place to another.” “Why, Lefty,” said Clark, horrified, “you don’t think 1 wanted to discharge you! Here, let me hetp you up on the horse, and Vl lead him in.” Clark had a medicine chest, a fair practi- cal knowledge of the effect of drugs, and considerable tact in their use. Lefty, of course, was burning out—but slowly in this Mgh, dry air. so unfavorable to the develop- ment of his disease; and Clark doctored him faithfully, with tonics and palliatives. He was not sent out on the range again; work was found for him about the house, and he soon came to be cook and general domestic manager. He developed into a skillful housekeeper and his cooking saved Much of the customary wear and tear of the boys’ moral natures. Indeed, Fletch Phillips declared that it was a more po- tent means of grace than the exhortations of the cowboy evangelist over at Lone Jack. But it was to Sargent’s especial comfort and welfare that his loving services were watchfully devoted. The pegs and gun racks in the office room at the Rita Blanca are all gleaming buffalo horns, picked up on the plain by Lefty, with the weather worn bark of years of exposure on them, and patiently scraped down and polished till they look like little haif crescents of jet. He searched out, Polished and put up, too, the great spread- ing cattle horns over the office doors and windows. Clark likes to hunt, and the heads and skins of deer, antelope, coyotes id big “loafer” wolves that he has shot, stuffed and mounted, or stretched and tan: ned by Lefty's skillful hands, adorn the walls and fioor. Clark's pony. his saddle, spurs and all his equipments and accouterments were kept in the shining and speckless condition of a crack cavalryman’s; and his clothing wa searched for rents and missing buttons with the eagerness of a young wife, new to her duties. Lifted out of vagabondage into a com- fortable home, and freed from the haunting Gread of losing it; simply pleased, like a ehild, at being a valued factor in the com- fort of that home, Lefty, whose springtime had been nipped and chilled by adversity’s | northers, came into late blossom. His face fled out and bloomed till it looked like a young boy’s. In this fostering atmosphere he put forth Rumberiess entertaining little accomplish- ments; he discovered unsuspected graces and developed the cheerful optimism of the consumptive. His couch was always “bet- ter.” and he was mildly impatient of any | inquiry as to his health. assuming the atti- tude of a great stout fellow who oncht to be out on the range earning his way, but who accepted these lighter duties because they were of a sort unpopular with the others. Notwithstanding this, he took faithfully the medicines Clark gave him. as he would Rave taken, done or endured anything front which the | and_ stood | THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER asked of or imposed upon him from that quarter. ‘ut there was one medicine Clark could not get him to take; and it was a tonic upon which he placed the most reliance in such a case—plenty of good whisky. “No, Mr. Sargent,” ne said, “don’t give me none 0’ that. Whisky an’ me's bad friends.” “Why, Lefty, that's mighty queer. I know you've drank plenty of whisky before now.” “Yes, sir, an’ it’s what I'll never do again; it's been my worst enemy. I’ve been in with rustlers an’ all kinds o’ thieves when 1 was drinkin’, an’ I didn’t get no good by my meanness, neither. Whisky starved me an’ froze me as long as I stuck to it, an’ | that’s what it'll do for any man that loves it like I do.” As Lefty said this he looked carefully away from his employer. Clark's drinking habit was the one gnawing anxiety and dis- tress that he had. It had been growing steadily worse since Lefty came to the Rita Blanca. It used to be that Clark only drank to excess when he went to Antelope, where there were bar rooms and convivial companions; but now the buckboard could not be got ready for a! drive of a day or two across the country without a jug of whisky in it. Lefty’s own bitter exeperience, to certain passages in which—the most shameful and criminal—he always referred with open sim- plicity, gave him an appreciation and hor- ror of the declivity upon which the other was starting; and he only lacked the cour- age to speak. “Lefty” He Whispered. When Clark was beginning on one of his sprees Lefty’s beseeching eyes would follow him, only to drop humbly when they met his look; and the silent protest and en- treaty was as weil understood between them as words could have been. Lefty stood between him and_ publicity so far as was possible. and lessened” by his own watchfulness and care the terrible risks Clark ran when drinking. It came to be the regular thing that whenever the | buckboard was brought out for one of the | manager's trips, Lefty got old Hank Pear- | sall to take charge of the house and the | cocking while he drove for Clark. It was | only so that he feit at ease, for then he | knew that whatever maudlin reaching for \the lines or slashing at the half-broke broncho team there was, he was there to take care of Clark, who had more than | once of late rolled out of the buckboard, | and Lefty had had hard work, what with | the wild team and Clark's helplessness, to get him back in. |One lowering December afternoon they | stopped at Antelope for the mail, on their way home from a distant ranch. Things had been going better: it was weeks since Clark's lest spree. and he had been doing almost entirely pout liquor. But it was Christmas eve: every bar room was full of cowboys and ranchmen, drinking and hi- larious. Clark would have th> team put up and fed, and they themselves had supper at the Antelope House. When Lefty went to him in the bar, after | supper, Clark would have come, but there was a crowd around him that wouldn't ‘hear of it. Finally, annoyed at Lefty's per- sistence, they turned their attention to him, and it was only by the exercise of consider- able dexterity and address that he got out Without having to drink with them. Full of anxiety, he went back again and again, sometimes finding Clark determined to make a night of it, sometimes half so- bered up and willing to go, but when on * | the strength of this h> got the horses out and brought the buckboard around, he al- ways failed by a little to get Clark away. | Once he got him in and they drove as far | as the outskirts of town, when aud made him go bac! fty would take one drink. nd get him away Lefty drink: then, on a similar | plea and promise, j by the time the: equally intoxicsted. ‘When they came to the first gate Into the Rita Rianca pastures, about three miles from the ranch house Lefty_gave the lines | to Clark and got down to open it, the whip j unheeded In his hand. But the long drive in the sharp air had sobered him up enough that he wondered | to see the tall posts on each side of the gate moving. The next moment he knew that there was 2 man behind each post, it | being the only possible cover an assailant could have found fer miles upon that bare, open. half meonlit plain. The revelation | was like a bucket of ice him, and he guessed instantly—with a throb jof that anxiety for Clark which was al- j Ways with him—that these were some of the Mexicans with whom the Rita Blanca was having trouble. His mortal fear for Clark's life swept the befogging fumes out of his brain. It was Ciark’s life they wanted; he knew that; it was not himself they were after. | He could go forw: and open the gate safely, since they likely thought him too drunk to notice them. another and another, till left they were about | board was Clark, they would jump upon it and knife him as he drove through. Lefty reeled toward the gate, caught it and clung to it, shaking In every limb. The silent watchers behind the posts might well have thought him very drunk indeed. a < It Was Lefty. Even while his poor spent frame drooped shuddering against the gate, his single and undeviating mind ran desperately through | every possible scheme for saving Clark. They were of much the’same height and size—enough so to be mistaken in the semi- | darkness. Why not make it seem—-why } not—. | He tore the gate open with a lurch, and ‘flung it wide ft) he screamed, “Lefty! Drive for your life, Lefty!” And as the excitable tea:n of cow ponies, trained to run at the shout, swept through at a gallop, he slashed the near horse with his whip. The outfit whirled away like a cloud, while Lefty turned to face Clark’s fate. | He accounted for himself piuckily with | got the wild ponies pulled down, turned | around and driven back to the gate, there | was nothing in sight on the great, gray, | glimmering level but a dark, motionless heap by one of the gate posts. He flung his lines over the other post, went and knelt beside the still body. “Lefty,” he whispered, with his heart in | his throat. There was no answer. He found the man’s | Shoulders, lifted them, and straightened him out—tt was Lefty. | Clark raised him gently, and felt for the wounds that were soaking his clothes with blood. Lefty moaned and opened his eyes. “O, Mr. Sargent, I'm going to die; and | who'll take care of you then, when—when | you're drinking? you, faithful, through the worst of it all, like I'd a been glad an’ proud to? | promise—promise—’ ater dashed over | But if they knew that tho one In thé buck- | | that whip; but it was of small use against two long knive: | When Clark Sargent, thoroughly sobered, “Who is it knows, like me that’s heen through it, the hell you're a walkin’ right | down into! And who'll be willin’ to go vith Nobody! Nobody! 0, I can’t go—I ain't re ‘Mr. Sargent—O, ,,my God!—promise me— “1 do, Lefty! I do—I do promise! The Lord be my witness—” The dying man, with some reminiscence of a cradle-side prayer, raised his life- scarred hands and laid them together, “For Christ's sake, amen,” he whispered, and breathed no more. As the buckboard went slowly homeward with its freight, the dim light of Christ- mas morning wrought pallidly upon the plain. It sought out and touched upon the face of that patient care taker, never elo- quent as now, in its voicelessness. When Clark came to his own door it was broad day. But Lefty’s Christmas was spent otherwhere. ———_—+e+_____ A LITERARY DERELICT. A Supposed First American Edition of Shakespeare's Poems Found Here. On a clumsy hand press, partly of wood, partly of iron, in some dingy print shop in Philadelphia, in 1795 and 1706, the first American edition of the works of Shake- speare was printed. The printers who made this venture were Bioren & Madan, whose |imprint appears on several books now very valuable in Americana. Their Shakesyeare was jn elght volumes, duodecimo, on the | old-fashioned hand-made “‘laid” paper. The type was a delicate letter in what is known as “old style.” The typography was excel- lent, the printer and proofreader of that day having apparently great pride in their neat- ness and accuracy. The title page of the first American | Shakespeare was as follows: “The Plays |and Poems of William Shakespeare, Cor- rected from the Latest and Best London Editions, with Notes by Samuel Johnson, | LL. D. To which are added a Glossary and the Life of the Author, Embellished with a Striking Likeness from the Collection of his Grace the Duke of Chandos, First Amer- ican Edition. Philadelphia. Printed by Biozen and Madan, MDCCXCV.” In the eighth volume of this first edition the plays of Shakespeare appeared without @ separate title page, but with their own pagination, the poems of Shakespeare mak- ing 128 pages of a book of 432 pages. A few months ago Mr. James O'Neill of Washington found among his books a little ancient-looking book, bearing on its calf- bound back just the word “Poems,” but on the title page the announcement that the book contained the poems of Shakespeare, printed at Philadelphia by Bioren & Mad- an, in 1796. For six months all the biblio- philes of America have been trying to run down this literary derelict and establish its precise place and value in the realms of Americana. There are very few sets of the plays of | Shakespeare printed by Bioren & Madan. Lenox Livrary, New York, the Boston | Public Library, the Pennsylvania Historical | Society of Philadelphia, C. F. Gintner, the | Chicago collector, and Dr. Swann M. Bur+ nett of Washington each have sets. The Pennsylvania Historical Society paid $260 a volume for two volumes to complete its |set. The University of Michigan, at Ann | A>bor, has a set presented to the library by Senator McMillan, who bought it, with the H. Thomas collection, some years ago. | Several of these libraries would very quick- \ly_enter the field to buy the first separate | American edition of the Shakespeare poem: | and even the British Museum asked to have jen opportunity to bid on Mr. O'Neill's book as soon as its status in the book world is | established. So far as known the first separate Amer- |ican edition of Shakespeare's poems was | published in Boston in 1807, by Oliver & Munroe. Copies of this book have been pur- | chased at the leading sales at high prices on the suppesition that it was the absolute- ly first separate publication of the poems in this country. If the Bioren & Madan book was the first, its appearance in the book world is to book hunters a good deal | like the discovery of a new planet in the solar system. It upsets their scale of rar- ity and disturbs the existing chart of | values. The man who goes into a book auc- tion in Boston or New York hereafter must |remember when the 1807 edition of the poems is put up that there may be an earli- er edition. At one time Mr. Stowell of the Publish- ers’ Weekly wrote Mr. O'Neill that his lit- | tle book seemed so rare it might be worth thousands rather than hundreds of dollars, as supposed-by the book hunters. All the Sbakespearians in the country and all the collectors of Americana were interested. Justin Winsor, who is making a list of Shakespearians that reach down to the year | 1675, referred the question of the authentici- ty of the 1796 edition to Mr. Charles R. | Hildebrand of Philadelphia, who is publish- ing a list of Pennsylvania publications. Mr. Hildebrand is as m puzzled as any one can be about Mr. O'Neill’s book. He | would like to know where to place it gs an | American publication in his list. Rev" Hor- ace Howard Furness, Professor Relfe, Mr. Garnett of the British Museum and Mr. Wilberforce Eames of the Lenox library give it up as a mystery they cannot solve. ‘The Publishers’ Weekly has all the summer and fall called Mr. O'Neill's book ‘The Sphinx.” It now appears, according to a bibliophile who signs himself “Moses Primrose” in the Publishers’ Weekly, that Mr. O'Neill's book must be a part of volume vili of the Bicren & Madan edition of the plays, bound separately, with a title page printed and set in expressly for it, and in this view of it Mr. O'Neill is inclined to agree. The title page of his little book bears the | autograph of a former owner, “F. C. de Krafft, October 4th, 18u9,”" written in a deli- cate hand at the upper left-hand corner. The character of the handwriting suggests that the writer was a German. The word “printed” in the imprint is misspelled to “pinted,” which is in violent contrast to the neatness of the text of the poems. The peper used for the title page and fly leaves is quite unlike that used in the main part of the book. In one fly leaf may be seen the offset letters, reversed, “ERICA.” This is evidently a part of the word America, and the inference is that the title page and fly leaves were made in a printing office where a poster containing a proclamation of some sort containing the word America in large letters had been printed. It is reasonable to suppose that it was in the original office in Philadelphia. It is possible that the title page was printed here in Washington and | the book bound here, for there was a Ger- man bookbindery here at the capital in the early years of the century of the name of Krafft. It is also to be said that the quall- ty of the paper in the title page and fly leaves is apparently identical with that | used In printing the National Intelligencer jand the various bills, reports and docu- | ments used in Congress at that time. |, Since “Moses Primrose” came out with his very careful calculations in regard to the | book, Mr. O'Neill has not regarded his find | aa of any great value. Yet he prizes it for what it seems to be, and for what it may yet be absolutely proven to be. ——-—_+0e+ From St. Nicholas. | | ees | The Pulse and Temperature. If you take a thermometer on a hot sum- | mer day and watch it until it runs up under | the influence of the sunshine to 98.4, you | will see it, when it reaches that point, at | the exact temperature of your body, if | you are in normal health. Your tempera- | ture may fluctuate a fraction above or be- low 98.4, according to the time of day or night, but it never varies to any extent until fever or some other kind of discuse sets in. Then the temperature begins to he pulse would not do—tell how iy sick the person is. And one of the strange things about it is that it does not vary many degrzes from this nor- mal point of 984, no matter how ill the patient may become. If there is a high fever it may run up to 104 or 105 and some- times to 106, but it seldom stays at this last point for any length of time. If it goes up to 108 the good physician who is watching at the bedside of the sick person concludes that death will soon put an ena to the suffering. Sometimes, as in cases of cholera, it may drop several degrees’ below 98.4, but it seems to be impossible for it to change many degrees trom the normal point. There are cases recorded where the temperature ran up to 110 or 112 and the patient recovered. The pulse, on the contrary, may change many beats and still the sick person will not be in danger of death. But, as a rule, if the temperature reaches 108 or luv death soon follows. A tiny thermometer, cailed a clinical | thermometer, is used to indicate the tem- perature. It’ is placed under the tongue or close to the skia in the axilla, or armpit, jand left there for a few minutes. By an ingenious arrangement the nercury in the slender glass tube is self-registering so that you may tell how high it was any time | after the temperature is taken, if the mer- cury is not disturbed. pretenses as French of a Kind. From Truth. “Dawson has just returned from Paris. You ought to hear him speak French.” “das he got the lingo at last?” “He thinks he has. He wanted a cup of coffee last night and he asked the waiter for une tasse de coiffure.”” | gasped out 23, 1893-TWENTY PAGES. ' CHRISTMAS STORIES That Are Told in the Cloak Room at the Capitol. HOW MEMBERS SPEND THE DAY. Throwing Dice for Turkeys in New Jersey. THE FEAST IN OLD KENTUCKY Written for The Evening Star. T WOULD BE IN- teresting to know how all members of Con- gress spend thel> Christmas. The House and Senate are always in session in December. The economists generally try to use as much of the month for busi- ness as possible. Sometimes Congzess adjourns on the 22d to meet on the 3d of January. At other times it adjourns on the 20th to meet on the 3d or 4th of January. This adjournment is what is known as the holiday recess. It gives all the members east of the Mississippi an opportunity to spend their Christmas at home.. In Boston, if Congressman O'Neil is to be believed, they go to the theaters, where skirt dances have taken the place of pan- tomimes. Formerly they shook props for dead poultry. A prop is a sort of a shell used in the place of dice. With the advance of civilization, however, props have disap- peared. The New Jersey, New York and Pennsyl- vania members enjoy themselves differently from the New Englanders. A few attend church. Others spend Christmas eve in raffiing for turkeys. The greatest raffling section th the United States today is said to be Sussex county, New Jersey. Besides raffling for turkeys, they have on Chris mas day what they call a turkey shoot. The turkey is placed in the snow some seven or eight hundred yards away, where his head alone is seen. Each man pays a specified sum as an entrance fee, and the performance begins. Rifles alone are used. The gobble> is a wary bird. After two or three shots he seems to scent the situation. As he sees the flash of the gun, he ducks his head. This is kept up until he finally becomes a victim to an expert marksman. Congressman Tracey of Albany, it is said, usually spends Christmas eve coasting down Capitol Hill. He is the only Congress- man in the House who is able to steer both a single and double ripper, steel-shod and well oiled. Different Ways of Enjoyment. Christmas recalls to Congressman Hook- er of the Chautauqua district visions of mince and pumpkin pies, with currant and elderberry wine in abundance. There are plenty of sermons and no raffling in his dis- trict. The turkeys are large and fat and are usually stuffed with stale bread, sage and potatoes. Congressmen who represent the Pennsylvania Dutch have thei> turkeys stuffed with chestnuts and drink glee wine. laryland Congressmen have roast turkey, but eat very little of it. They reserve their appetite fo> terrapin stews, and the terra- aed are genuine diamond backs at $90 a jozen. Away out in Minnesota Christmas is usually a cold, crisp day. The weather is , but very cold. Men’s ears break off and fall on the ground. Cong-essman Boen of that state, a native Norwegian, enjoys his Christmas in true Scandinavian style. The farmers pay long visits to their neigh- bors, half a dozen families staying at one farm. The host and family with the guests start in procession ove: the snow to the house of one of the visitors. Then to an- other, and so on until each has been a host and guest to all in turn. Dancing is the favorite amusement, and the polsk, as they call it, the favorite dance. These celebra- tions are termed yulekiks. Congressman Boen never misses one of these yulekiks. Each Norwegian has a pipe in his mouth, and there are spirits on the side table. Aside from this there are sprats, tongues, slices of German sausage and cheese with a multiplicity of names and flavors. There are more quadrilles than country dances, and more waltzes than quadrilles. Among) the dances there is an interminable cotil- lion; the dancers standing around in a ring and the partners being distributed at ran- dom; a card or watchword is given to two persons of different sexes and the Norwe- gian takes half a dozen whirls with the lady whose card corresponds with his own. Af- ter this she resumes her place, while the Nerwegians spin around in search of fresh partners. There is what is called a halling dance, in which the Norwegians turn somer- saults and at times sink so low that thei> knees get nearer the ground than their heels. A leap in the air has to be made and some part of the wall to be touched with the toe. Boen enjoys these dances im- mensely. RafMfiing for Turkeys in New Jersey. Alexander B, Montgomery of Kentucky | gives a good idea of Christmas celebrations in his state. In some of the congressional districts the day is ushered in with horn blowing, bursting of anvils and the snap- | ping of firecrackers. Kentucky nectar flows | very freely, even before breakfast, but never | so freely as to prevent the truly pious man | from attending church and paying devout | attention to the sermon. In the afternoon | there are horse races and occasionally a/| chicken dispute. At night the air is filled | with music. Uncle Tom thrums the banjo, there are juba dances, and the few re- maining old plant. on negroes are in the} seventh heaven o. delight. Occasionally Campbellite preachers celebrate the day in baptizing new converts, A story told by Asher G. Caruth ts worth | repeating here. It was before the war. A| negro preacher had been holding a powerful revivai meeting. Many negroes, some bad and others worse, had been converted. All, were to be baptized on Christmas day. The immersion was in Blue Lick creek. Several | colored women had been baptized, when a} tall, powerful Ethiop was led into the | stream by the officiating clergyman. He | seemed to be afraid of the creek. The | preacher led him out where the water | Their Appetite for Terrapin. | y ached his arm-pits. After repeat-! ing the usual formula he endeavored to im- | merse him. The frightened convert slipped frcem him and went down the stream. The current was quite strong. After a good deal of spluttering and splashing he man- aged to reach the opposite shore. There he climbed upon a worm fence, surrounded by | 4 sympathetic crowd, and sat shivering in| the sunlight. Recovering his breath, he. to those around him, “Some Kentucky gemmen is done gwine to lose a nigger wif such foolishness as dis "fore long.” | In John Allen's district the day is spent | in drinking eggnogg and eating roast 'pos- | sum and baked sweet potatoes. Squirrel | pies are also served, and the turkey is not | forgotten. John says they prefer dry tur- key. Turkeys, unlike all Mississippians. | are not always dry. They frequently stuff | them with stale bread, chestnuts and sweet | acorns. Mr. Allen says he objects to the | acorns. He ate a turkey once that was stuffed with acorns from what he calls a Barley oak. The flavor was a little too) delicate. It left a bitter taste in the mouth, which quarts of persimmon wine failed to wash away. In lower Mississippi, in the district repre- sented by Thomas R. Stockdale. the wild turkeys are usually stuffed with ovsters. These shell fish come from Mississippi Sound, and are said to be the most delicious in flavor of any on the American coast. In Mobile and New Orleans there is a gor- gecus Mardi Gras disnlay. The Mystic Krewe, the Cowbellians and the Twelfth Night Reveiers are out tn parade, and the whole city is filled with enthusiasm. The firecrackers comes into play, skyrockets climb the heavens at night, and the air Is Visiting on Christmas Day in Min- nesota. the horns. The observance of the dey re- calls Fourth of July celebrations in the north. Away out in Texas, in Crain's, Culber- son's and Buck Kilgore’s districts, there are high old Christmas celebrations. That great representative of Texas life, Col. Bill Ster- rett, says that the most extraordinary scene he ever saw on Christmas was David B. Culberson addressing his constituents. “There were about 700 cowboys on horse- back around him,” said Col. Sterrett, “each having a squirrel tail in his sombrero. the stand was that great statesman and magnificent orator, Nat Q. Henderson. As Judge Culberson closed his speech and Hen- derson arose to deluge the crowd with his eloquence, the audience quailed. An extra- ordinary scene occurred. The cowboys drew their lariats and tried to lasso each other. Then there were repeated fusillades of revolvers. One of the lariats reached the platform, and Henderson gave way. He evidently felt that his eloquence would be wasted on such a crowd. Many @ man was yanked from his horse, but fortunately none Reserve Their Appecite for Terrapin. was hurt. The cowboys afterward had a scrub race, and at night surrounded a huge Christmas tree erected on a ranch owned by a cattie king. The presents were numer- ous, but not costly. The tree was strung with popcorn, mesquite ers and sugar cane. The festival closed with a grand candy pulling. Not the least remark- able part of the scene, according to Bill Sterrett, was Judge Culberson running— “actually running, sir,”"—to catch a train. A Remarkable Adventure. Ex-Congressman Charles Dougherty of Florida tells a remarkable story of adven- ture on Christmas day. He said he had been camping on Ship Yard Island near Turtle Mound, with Captain Frank Sams, Lee Childs and other acquaintances in Vo- lusia county. On Christmas eve they had set four bear traps at bear wells on the beach. These wells were in the thick scrub palmetto. The roots of the beach palmetto rise above the ground from two t. four feet high. They are gnarled and twisted in| every directicn. In crawling beneath these | rovts in the search for wells, a great weil was discovered beneath a lone cal tree. The track of a bear was seen in the sard on the brink of the well. With al- “Some Kentucky Gemmen is Done Gwine to Lose a Nigger—” | most infinite trouble a heavy bear trap was dragged underneath the roots of the scrub | palmetto, and set in the sand at the rim of the well. It weighed at least 100 pounds. In the morning Dougherty and his com- rades started for the well. In a light ca-_ noe they threaded the chanel between scores of mangrove islands and began to crawl beneath the roots toward the well. Suddenly they heard a terrific moaning, | followed by ferocious growling and savage | cries. It was evident that there was a bear in the trap. They approached the animal with caution. The trap had been chained | to the trunk of the cabbage tree. Arriving within thirty feet, they saw an extraordi- nary sight. The bear sat upon his haunches | with his fore feet in the trap. He would | raise the trap to his mouth and lick his paws, making heartrending moans. Sud- denly “Bruin”—that is what Dougherty | called him—would growl and shriek and | smash the trap against the butt of the tree. Overcome by the pain he would again lick his paws and fill the air with moans. At cne time the bear tried to climb the tree, trap and all, but finally gave up in despair. Dougherty at last killed him by | putting a rifle ball under his left shoulder. “That night,” said Charles, “we had a glorious Christmas dinner—bear steaks and | bear's paws roasted. It was the finest din- | ner in the land, and, best of all, it was) washed into place by quart after quart of old Kentucky whisky—no decoction made of cactus roots and ground glass, but pure old stuff.” AMOS J. CUMMINGS. a OXFORD’S CREW WILL COME HERE. js to Arrange an tional Boat Race. | It is quite probable that the Oxford Uni- versity crew of England will visit America next year and meet the winner of the Har- vard-Yale race on the Thames river, New London, says the New York Sun. Vivian Nickalls, who rowed No. 5 in the Oxford | boat this year, is carrying on the negotia- tions. ‘The English amateur visited George A. Adee in New York yesterday, and suggested | that a race be arranged between Oxford and Yale, to be rowed at New London ai-! rectly after the Harvard-Yale contest. le said that his countrymen looked upon Yal 2S a probable winner of the race with Har. rd, and were very anxious to see the Ox- | ford crew come over here and conquer the | New Haven eight. Adee said that it would | be better for the Oxford crew to come here | to meet the winner of the race between Yale and Harvard. Nickalls thought that would be the best policy to pursue. To a Sun reporter the Englishman said: “Yes, Oxford wiil come here and meet the winner of the Harvard-Yale race. We feel confident of beating either crew, and only have a few conditions to make. One is that our expenses shall be paid, and another that we may have four or tive weeks’ training | on the Thames at New London. That we/| consider the finest course in America, end will not consent to any other. | “I graduated from Oxford last spring, but | I am going to sail for home next Saturday, as I shall coach our new crew this season. | We begin training immediately after <hrist- | mas, and expect to turn out a superb eight. I came to America last April, but the cli- mate has not agreed with me, and I am not in the best of health. Before I sail, how-| ever, I want to make arrangements for un | international race, and I have called upon Mr. Adee to suggest it to him. I expect to see Bob Cook in Philadelphia on ‘Thi phia o1 ursday, | lands which are sometimes found floating “The Oxford crew would have visited this | and I shell lay the matter before him. country last summer had it not been for several obstacles that were cast in their way. Now we are willing and anxious to come, and I hope the matter can be satis- bridge takes place in March, so that, if we do row Yale or Harvard at New London, we shall have to do some hard traiaing there to be in condition by July 1, whea the race would probably be pulled off.” -2eo— Risen Rapidly. From Puck. Mistress—""Has your cousin a place yet, Nora?” Nora—“No, Mum. She haven't; an’ her only wan year over, an’ grown that particu- lar that she can’t plaze herself!” | mington, John Bull Will Join Uncle Sam in Policing the Ocean, DERELICTS THAT MENACE NAVIGATION An Average of Eight Collisions Every Year. WORK OF THE SAN FRANCISCO. Written for The Evening Star. IFTY-SIX COLLIE sions with abandoned wrecks have been re- Ported to the hydro- graphic office of the navy during the last an average of eight per annum; but, un- fortunately, there is no doubt that in a majority of instances occurrences of thi sort remain unheard of, because the ships concerned go down with all on board. This, in fact, is the theory which accounts for most of the vessels reported as “missing.” For general information, a list of the acci- dents above referred to has been made out and will be published with the pilot chart for January. President to make an agreement with other nations for dividing up the business of de- stroying “derelicts.” It is suggested that this shall be done by marking off the ocean into sections, each power patrolling the area allotted to it. Happily, it would only be necessary to patrol for this purpose a small part of the water surface of the globe—ie., @ zone of the North Atlantic 4,000 miles long by 600 miles wide—because such abandoned hulks elsewhere are few and far between. But in that belt “a roving fleet alwcys hovers on the very pathway of commerce, more dangerous than a squadron of pirates, because vastly more numerous, striking merciless when they do strike.” Such were the words in which a member of Congress recently referred to this menace to navigation. Stirred up by an urgent re- commendation of the international marine toward joining the United States in this important work. An appropriation is now sought, for use by this country, for build- ing a ship of about 800 tons displacement, fitted for sea-going in bad weather, to blow up or bring into port floating hulks of the sort described. The vessel would require very strong boats and special towing ap- paratus. At present ghe Navy Department sends out a steamer from time to time to destroy derelicts. Good Work of the San Francisco. Only a few weeks ago the Vesuvius went out with orders to clear the coast of New Jersey of derelicts. She succeeded in mak- ing away with four. The Kearsarge blew up one sunken wreck about the same time off Cape Henry. But the most profitable job in this way was executed by the San Francisco, October 2, on her way from New York to Key West. Right in the track of commerce she found a lumber-laden schooner tached at different places so as to hang be- neath the keel. They were exploded by electricity, but ten of them failed to break the vessel up and release her cargo, the latter being waterlogged and jammed. Finally, after officers and crew had work- ed from early morning until evening to de- stroy the worthless craft, Capt. Watson of the San Francisco got angry and made up his mind to resort to war Calcu- lating his distance at about a quarter of a mile, he put on full head of steam and her at full speed, the steel beak of his ship | y. passed through the object like a knife through paper, cutting it in two amidships. It was a fair illustration of the irresistivle power of the ram. The halves of the hulk drifted apart, and to make the work com- plete, haif-a-dozen steel shells were fired into the after part, breaking it to pieces as they a There is a marvelous resisting power in floating hulk like that. lt will swim for years, so solid with its cargo of water- swelled dumber that the forces of nature are expended upon it in vain. It easily outlives the storms which are fatal to the staunch- est ships. If set afire it will not burn. Nothing short of the most powerful ex- plosives will break it up, and, as illustrated by the instance above referred to, they find the job a tough one. These lumber car- riers have a way of drifting in the gulf stream north@astward across the track of trans-Atlantic steamship travel. They are @ menace to commerce, and particularly to the great passenger ships, which rush across the seas at the speed of railw: trains, each of them carrying the popula- tion of a small town, with no leisure to pause for fog or obstruction. 1 these derelicts are mastless, some- _ eos usually just awash. They give no or signal to the ship approach- ing. They float because the loads they carry are lighter than the water. A vessel with a cargo of iron or any such heavy ma- terial will sink at once if wrecked in mid- Likewise, a ship entirely empty will go down immediately, filling with water and laden with lumber will stay on the surface almost indefinitely. Why, then, is she abandoned? Well, if anybody will imagine himself on board of a hulk sunk to a level with the waves, over which the billows are breaking, with no fcod nor drink obtainable, = not be disposed to push the in- quiry. - During the last two years a number of rotable collisions with derelicts and sunken wrecks have occurred. On May 30,18¥3, the Italian barque San Giovanni, off the Mas- sachusetts coast, struck a floating obstruc- tion, which broke her rudder gear and caus- | ed her to leak at the rate of fifteen inches per hour. Only by constant work, aided by a wirdmill pump, did her crew succeed tn reaching port. On the 20th of the same month the steamer Cragside hit a floating hulk off the Nova Scotia coast and sunk soon afier in fifteen fathoms of water. On May 18 the steamer Norman collided with the sunken schooner Booth Brothers on Brigantine Shoals, New Jersey. Her fore- mast and mainmast went. by the board, and she suffered other damage. On April 18 of this year the schooner Kate L. Gerdes struck a sunken wreck off Tur- key Point, Chesapeake bay, and sank al- most immediately, a hole being torn in her bow. In the previous month and in the same region, off the tail of the Horseshoe, the Louis P. Pharo struck a derelict during a show siorm and sank in four and one-half fathoms. The crew was saved. On December 2, 182, the British schooner Ethel Emerson struck the wreck of the sunken yacht Alva off Poliock Rip, Nan- tucket sound, and sank. A few hours later the barge Beechwood, in tow of a tug, hit the Alva, and, to save her, she had to be beached in ten feet of water. On Septem- ber 16 of the same year the ferry boat South Brooklyn, bound from South Brook- lyn to New York, ran over the hulk of a canal boat off Red Hook. She sank after reaching her dock. Another victim was the schooner J. J. Pierson, from South Amboy, which struck a derelict in Long Island sound and stove a big hole in her hull. She was beached at Orient Point, L. 1, full of ater. Floating Islands of the Sen. Much more strange and interesting in their way than even derelicts are the is- on the sea. One of the most remarkable phenomena of this sort reported in recent years was a bit of dry land adrift in the Atlantic ocean a few months ago. It was factorily adjusted. Our race with Cam-| Sighted by several vessels, but first on July 28, 1892, when it was in the longitude of the Bermudas and in about the latitude of Wil- Delaware. It was in the middle of the gulf stream and was moving at the rate of about a mile an hour. Skippers who observed it estimated that its area was about a quarter of an acre. It was visible at a distance of seven miles and was thick- ly covered with tropical grass and bushes. In fact, it was quite a mass of forest growth, the topmost branches being thirty feet above sea level. When last seen, it had reached the path of transoceanic travel and was supposed to be on its way to Eu- seven years. That is|f the of a6 Bute, eve not only a’ great also insects to sea. In the Mississippi trees often float away seaward in clumps, when the water is high, with the earth in which they grow. Hardly less curious than these bits of terra firma adrift are the a-tificial floating islands used in Mexico. They are construct- $2.08 wicker a2 to their substructure, are overlaid hi - : earth, m which plan’ size. as The at of amount of driftwood shores is enormous. Arctic coast of Alaska wholly for wood supply. coral islands of the cific get stones for tools from the roots of drifted ae which the stones are found im- is one of nat int ure’s most interes! hes —} di ted 2 uch tion jevoted mi ten: = vertigating the matter, me on proved that many kinds of seeds will bear immersion in water for 100 days or even more, and still retain their vitality, so that when thrown ashore they are to this the husks of proof. up on the ocean beans. It is plants which ‘water. quantities minishing lantic varieties plants Caribbean exaggcrated pea-pod, contains latter, around the south end ——_-+-o+—_____ EVEN GIRLS SOMETIMES ACT SILLY. tion Bet and a Wheelbarrow Ride. Lizzie Tobias was recently the principal figure in quite the most unique post-election ceremony that has been seen in Detroit in 3h eee e¥i Hh E: i i | barrow. | the hat towerd the corner of toine. There accompanied buggy with a young man The woman was Miss Tobias’ said that many bets were made that when it came to the scratch Lizzie fi young woman would not tions of the wager. Still a Chance. Sittiman—“I understand, sir, you want ts sell your house in Commuterville.” Countriman—“I sold it last week to Mr. Jones.” Sittiman—“Indeed! Well, do you know of aay ote else who has a place sale rer" | Countriman—“About a week from Bow you might ask Jones.” coo Who Has Not Been Caught? Wite—"Oh, George! I have forgotten m gloves, and I can’t get the drawer open.’ Husband (irritebly)—“If you women ‘would only —. “# little effort when you ttempt an you would succeed often- er than 4-3 You needn't laugh; it has got to come!”