Evening Star Newspaper, March 10, 1894, Page 15

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 10, 1894-TWENTY PAGES. A HERMIT’S TALK Old John Allen of Big Bald Moun- tain. WHY HE ABANDONED dilted by a Woman, He Turned Against Mankind. INTERESTING TRIP THE WORLD AN Written for The Evening Star. HILE TRAVEL- ing in the southern Alleghenies I have frequentiy experienc- ed much difficulty in following the right trail across some of the larger mountains when having the ad- vantage of daylight, and for my temerity in attempting to cross the Stone mountain too near nightfall I was com- gelled to spend the night on its summit without fire or company other than my horse and the festive screech-owls, wh! kept up their weird music UN daylight. ‘The Big Bald is on the line between Ten- nessee and North Carolina, and, next to Mt. Mitchell, ts the highest mouniain east of the Rockies. it is too steep and rugged to be crossed on horseback, and there wre places along the trails where foot travel is diMicult and dangerous, to say aothing | of its unenviable record of men killed by | wild beasis or bitten by rattlesnakes. It | was for there reasons that I advice of men li trict and asked 1 Higgins vo | pilot me acre mountain to the settle- ment on the North Caro! Red-headed Bili Higgics is weli known | through these mountains as a hunter and | guide; he is also known to have con ed himself lord high executioner on a ¥ ber of occasions when he conceived it his painful duty to inflict capital puniszment | em men who had sinned against him 2c cording to the common construction of the | mountain code. Public sentiment generally | justified these executions, and grand juries | were not very inquisitive in those days | Red-Headea B | From the Flag Ponds f followed Hig- acted on the } lag Pond dis- | gins creek till 1 came to Red-neaded siil’s |! cabin, way up under the shadow of the Big Baid. When i called at the house a woman | came to the door, followed by a flock of children. i asxed, “Is Mr. Higgins at | home?” ! “Yes, this is whur he stays,” was her | uncommittal answer. “Are you Mrs. Higgins?" I queried. *Spose so; we've bin a livin’ together fur On further conversation, 1 found Airs. | Red-headed Bill Higgins evasive as to her | husband's whereabouts, and having icarned im the valiey that Red-headed iit wes shy @f revenue officers, 1 concluded to change My tactics. 1 told her that Cy Blanken- ship had told me that I could get ner uus- band to guide me across the Big aid. Sie knew Cy Blankenship, and if ne seat me i was ail rig: made a number of inquiries as (o who I was and as w my business; my answers were evidentiy sat- | iafactory. tor she wurnet to a boy stanimg fm the door aad said, “Arab, git the horn an’ blow w fur yer pap.” ‘tne boy got the horn and bdiew two tng blasts; “tnem owe's @iough; yer pap ui cume new puriy suvn, Bhe sai to te boy “What is your * 1 asked. “arab,” sue rept on se a Fatner amuseu ¢ v7 } adaeu, “4 ui ac ta purty Nac, Dur 4 bee it cause ws a vivir e. her of my veneration tor Dow Amougat char ot out Woud savw betier chtiaren more piety in Bains Loe. - Leas Squirrel Hilie. | 1 came 3 squirrel mine we A aaterw tionace grasp. thin amd anguier; his beard is a ac2p siraggling and ca.c. head ix surm tute Tor @ meaungue of a iv ‘row'r ye, stranger? purty fine day,”) Was Ked-headea pili s greetng. i told n my business. “Yes; 1 a1 can gO Win} Ye; Wusa 1 nad a dots ever ume €xossed that ‘are mountn; wont y ave} aa come in é Walt tell i cun Maere bulieis ter my gum’ we mou sc up some varmunts cn the way.” iuto the cat cont BS sticking out of cracks along the wa the joists in on a more than and there were FY deers wiich: failea before this > tud’s trusty Of the paws, fifty had be. t from the right leg of | bears, and eight had been ed | trom the same pari of the anat “Painters parts,” remark: ie t Many pant rier be m glad uv y have sich a weekid way down on peop! outer trees, y scratch an’ t erous.” Of “Them's a a On the i of scalps. The y al tied out this s» Red-headed Bill stated, and to know. Al as eo the m “a. | an | good a Red-headed Bill > could go by wh sez he can meke a miles out of our wey, a7 was onsociable-like at Allen, as he is called. has lived a hermit Kite for abou years his is an uated with colleges in the south, he had n with a girl who jome reason jilted him. after which he became a misanthrope, went as far as possible from the haun of men, and particularly from the haunts of women. Sometimes women going into the | mou 3 to pick berries get near his| cabin and cross his fences; wherever he} gees a women cross his fence he burns} all the rails in that panel. se were stories I heard of this hermit of the Bald before | met Red-headed Bill Hig and I was giad of the chance to see him, even if it took me three miles out of ny: way. The bullets were soon run and my horse was taken in charge by Arab, and Red- Readed Bill and I set out on our fifteen-mile | Walk, with three miles extra thrown in. We followed a narrow path right up the face of cliffs and along the brinks of dan- gerous preci The nomenc Interesting. ‘nis is Hogskin creek my a guide. of a bubbling brook: thar’s the Devil Nose mountain: an’ thar the Devil's Lookin’ Glass.” pointing away to @ waterfall directly facing the mountain, on whose sides jutted out some sharp and Jagged rocks, suppcsa! to bear marked re- semblance to the olfactory of his satanic majesty. Rig Bald Mountain. After hours of hard climbing, we reached the summit of the Big Bald. Far below was the timber iine, while the top was bare and rugged and storm- Red- headed Bill said it was the highest moun- tain in the world. He had “hearn men say that the Rocky mount'ns fs hfcher, but it stands to reason that It ‘tain’t so, ‘cause you can stand om top o' the Big Bald au’ | mused for a moment, and said | discuss great questions in a language un- , Spoke, 1 thought, with some pain {among people. I might have been wicked, ond | there it L | Cicero said of death.” all the t’other mount'ns roll away from tt, | lower an’ lower lik ! In the afternoon we reached the habita-, tion of the hermit. Around the cabin was @ clearing on which Old John Allen raised | potatoes and such other vezetables as would | grow in that cold atmosphere. With his rifle he supplied bis table with meat, and from skins he realized enough money to supply his simpl> wants; he also had a farm near Burnsville, which he rented, and on the same day of each year he called on his tenant, collected his rents, went to Burnsville and sold his skins, and from there to Asheville, where he made his pur- chases, al returned to his cabin on the side of the Big Bald mountain. When we reached the fence surrounding the cabin, Red-headed Bill called out “hel- i ‘A big dog sprang up with a savage growl and started toward us, but was in- stantly checked by a voice calling from inside the cabin, “Come back, Caesar.” Al- most at the same moment the hermit ap- red at the door. “What do you want ere?” he demanded, in a not very cor- @ial voice. I told him that we were crossing the mountain and wanted to stop and rest for awhile. “You can rest about as well cut there in the woods as you can in here today,” he responded. “I told ye that be war inclined to be sorter onsociable at said Red-headed Bill in a low voice. after a moment's refiection, the hermit seemed to get in a more hospitable mood and told my guide, whom he knew, that we might come tn. A Talk With the Hermit. He pointed Higgins and myself to seats on a bench, while he sat on a flat stump a few feet away. His hair and beard were white and tangled, and he looked at least sixty-five years old—perhaps older. Red- headed Bill told him who I was and my business in the mountains, and that I had heard of him and wanted to see him. The old man looked at me for a moment in a reflective sort of way, and said: “Like all young persons, you have too much curiosity. Young men are strong animals, old men have brains. Cicero, in his De Senectute says, ‘Enim ,est_mens et ratio et consileum in senfbus.’"" I pleaded innocence of any knowledgs of Latin, and begged him to translate. He looked at me sadly for a moment, and sald: “The English is, ‘For there is mental power and reason and judg- ment in oid men.’ He then expressed sorrow at my illiteracy. “The ability to read Caesar,” said he, “may justly be re- garded as the line between Iiteracy and illiteracy. I regretted that I had not studied the language while in col e. He ame ten ch ee it is orant; the fruit of the tree of knowledge is always bitter. Its a pity that Adam did not die with all his ribs in his body. I have had more than my share of trouble with Eve's daughters.’ Here he broke out with a tirade gainst Women, in which he ascribed all “the {lls that flesh is heir to” to them. To better express himself, he vented many of his expletives in Latin. After a few moments he grew more rational and began to talk, more to himself than to us, in an unknown tongue. T called him to order and advised him that I regarded it unpariiamentary to better that you —se to og Rage side. quoting.” sat e, “from the great traged: of Eschylus, Prometheus Vinctts. Fou know that Prometheus said to Io, daughter of Inach I again protested that I knew nothing about it. He sho: k his head pityingly, and said: “Sad, sad. After a mement spent pondering over my ignorance, in which he vainly attempted to get its metes and bounds, he said: “I will give you the nglish and apply it to my own condition, ‘Verily, thou wouldst hardly bear the agonles of me to whom it is not given to die: for this would be an escape from suf- fering.’ But now,” speaking with tragic “I was just emphasis, “ ‘there is no limit set to my hardship, until Jove shall have been de- throned from his tyranny.’ ” Jilted by a Woman, T asked him some things about his past, and why he chose to spend his life in a wilderness and aione. He mused for a long time; he bad a faraway look in his eyes, ani he seemed retrospecting the past. “i Lave lived among people and found them faise; 1 have had friends, and they were treacherovs.” He paused again and then T knew ed; she said she would a 1 once that I lo marry me. I introduced her to a college mate—a young man with whom I graduated. the « she was to have become ife she became his. I knew nothing ofA it ull I reached her home, where we were to have b married. They had gone. T have ni r seen her but once since that | w in the court room where | y life. About a year married T met my former we quarreled, and he was . I was tried and nd of Insanity. After th I have since lived with th hat I be let aione. He wis thoughtful for awhile and then broke the silence by saying: “I have lived here and tried to do no harm; had I lived that Juvenal truly ime uptor.’"" Bethinking himseif t I knew nothing of what Juvenal had he add “That is, * h least of all, one who cor- Quoting Poetry and Latin. Tasked him if he was not afraid of dying by himscif. He said he could die just as weil there as anywhere, and added, “tf feel that my sun hes 1 since passed the meridian, and that I am now in life’s te." Here he changed the simile. Whittier who said: 2 Monotone calling unt> me; 2 whence the aii ould each compare to set sail on the ternity. Tennyson says: t and evening bell, that—the dark be no sadness of farewell s may bear me far, pilot face to fa I have crossed the bar.’ n he began to quote Latin, and again tested. “I was just quoting what he sail. “he reverses the simile used by Whittier and Tennyson. or, more properly speaking. they reverse the simile used by Cleero. He compared his epproaching death to the coming into port after long vovage. He smiled wearily and continued. “I reckon I shall soon say with Dido, ‘Vixi, et peregi cursum.’” T 1 requeste? that he would confine his remarks clish. He said. “Virgil makes Dito say, ‘I have lived, and have finished ne con hich fortune has given me; | 1 now ade shall go under the gan to quote Latin He said he was nd Cicero on the im- he did not translate, » Ido not Know What he said. T asked him what he thought of death. Mis View of Denth. He drew himself up much Ike a sopho- more about to begin his oration, and in a v though oratorical n. past we know n we know only the solemn, Of the present, said: th of of that mysterious ocean, Eternity, or later must engulf us all. re, our knowledge stops at the at silent city where the pale in shrouds; not akened from his ened his pallid lips to t of death or of a life 4 ee sat bimseif down their : a strong leaning sm. He insisted on quoting and Greek, and at times be- nt in his moralizations. It was dark in the gorges and the sun was tipping th itain tops with its evening glow him. The people of the val- ley knew little of him except that he lives there on the side of the Big Bald. They think little about him, and probably would in: his ex’ ce were it not that all learned to know the crack of his rifle, and frequently when the well- known sound is heard ringing out through the mountain gorges, some one will sa “There, OF John Allen has shot a equ rel M. L. Fo. eee ree The Typewriter in the OFient. From the “ms to be coming more d than in this country. = instance of its effect on Ori als is related in “The Statesman.” One of them lately indited an elaborate series of complaints against a high judicial officer. new Hakim,” observed his critic, “habitually neglects his duty. AJl y in cutcherry he amuses himseif by ‘ing the baja, and never listens to the witnesses who come before him." The piano which this unfortunate official, v:ho was threatened with writer eraimp, used to piay in his cutcherrr was 2 type- riter, on which he recorded his depoai-! tions! A rather amu: THE NATIONAL GUARD: Annual Report of ,the Inspector- General of Rifle Practice, A MOST EXCELLENT SHOWING Some Things Need Amendment, but Not Many. INTERESTING FIGURES renee eee District national guardsmen who have been waiting with more or less impatience for the arrival of the crosses, Luttons, Lars and pins with which so many of their number are to be decorated will probably be gratified within a day or two to hear that the insigna of skill in the most practical department of military training have arriv- ed. In the meantime the waiting ones can find profitable occupation in studying the facts and figures (the figures also being facts) presented in the annual report of Maj. Geo. H. Harries, inspector general of rifle practice. Maj. Harries says: “In presenting my report for the year ended November 30, 1898, I desire to direct at- tention to the marked advance made in the material matter of rifle practice. Pre- cise comparison with previous years is not possible because of changes in the marks- man qualification and in the method of computing the figure of merit, but there has been decided improvement and is prom- ise of a nearer approach to the tdeal dur- ing the year 1894 should the brigade be pro- vided with the range facilities it needs. The greater growth of the season past was in the grade of sharpshooters, there having qualified as members of that class 122 offi- cers and enlisted men as against $8 in the previous year, 42 in 1891 and 13 in 1990, In the marksman class there is great appar- ent diminution and yet a real increase, for the adding of two scores each at S00 and v0 yards on the range—ordered at the opening of last season—reduced the nuniber of button winners from 160 to 62. Under the regulations which governed class prac- tice in 1882 there would have been more than two hundred marksmen in this re- port, but the mid-ranges had a depressing effect on a large proportion of the recruits, many of whom appeared on the range with- out having received the preliminary instruc- tion which should be imparted by every company commander. There is in exist- ence a general order requiring company commanders to devoie at least fifteen min- utes at each regular drill to sighting and aiming, but this reasonable requirement is generally unattended to. The results of such inexcusable carelessness are far reach- ing, the first and least being an absence of ritle shooting interest in the neglected com- panies and consequenily a poor company record for the season. In spite of the greater activity shown by many of the inspectors of rifle practice there is still an extremely large percentage of men remaining in the third class. Of these but few are so piaced by poor shoot- ing, the majority are in that class because they failed to shoot the eighty rounds each | required by orders. Had every oilicer and | enlisted man in the brigade been faithful | to duty in the matter of official practi there is reason for believing that not more than tifty would now belong to the ciass which denotes ineticieney in the most in portant miliary essentiai. It may seem | Stvange that there shouid be necessity for | 1 extraordinary and continuous exertion the matter of completing scores, but it nevertheless true tnat but for the persis ence of some of the inspeciors and a few line officers the qualification record would have been tar from ereati For this sluggishness there nust su be a rem- in| s ly jedy or tae effictency of which we have had | 2 rignt to fect proud will soon vanis ‘The obeying of yeueral orders should be the rule and not the exception. | Stringent Mensuces Urged. Fully satisfied that pe » measures have reached the limit of their u and confident that severity will be wrongly applied in this matter, 1 respect- fully urge the issuing and enforcement of an order that will result in the discharge “for the good of the service” of e scl diers who fail to fire the prescribes number of rounds at the ranges speciiied in the . son's scheduies. “here will, of course, i instances where sucn action would be un- fair to individuals, but they can be arr, ed for without dimeulty and in such a m ner a3 to affurd the habitually careless no loophole through which to ape irom their responsivity. The national guard ulne deserving of the tender consideration which has been snown him in the past, and ic which he is not in the least grateful. Interesting Rivalry. Continued fidelity to rifle practice by the! second regiment and a decided awakening of enthusiasm in the first regimeat made the season's work more than ordinari!y in- teresting. A year ago the regimen ures of merit were widely separated, they are now more nearly chances bright tor the war rivalry during the current year. Tegument is, however, coasiderabiy ahead, ana only by putting rorth an extraordinary amount of exertion can the first hope to on even terms With its competitor. ‘Yo aid in stimulating the utmost efforts and to encourage the most fuithtul, 1 have, un- enicially, but with the consent of the com- manding general, announced ihat there will be established 2’ suitable trophy to be an- nually awarded the company which, taining, at east, the minimum streng.h, qualifies the greater p of marasmen, or better; sharpsnovi count 2s marksmen. ‘This tropny, sul: named, should be the one thing to Le «e- sired by every company in the brigade; it ougat to ranx all other trophies, and the evinpeny holding tt should be honored in every possible and rational manner. es Bell, inspector nd regiment, suggests that a sergeant in each coim- pany ve Getailed to act as an auxiiary to the battalion inspector; to watch the com- pany target records and stir up those who, i left tw themselves, would i practi ae one. ask that com commanders be required to designate # suitable sergeant for ihe im- portant duty now so frequently left undone. Medals for Two. In my report for last year I recommended the procuring of a goid medal two be award ed for one year to the oificer or entiste man (distinguished marksmen excepted) who should make the highest aggregate at the regularly ordered practice of his com- mand. The purchase of such a decoratio was authorized by the commanding gen- eral. Col. Cecil Clay, commanding se regiment, is the first who Will wear it, hi score being 351. Col, Clay's coatinual devo- tion to rine practice littingly rewarded. ‘To stil further encourage those who par- ticipate inthe regularly ordered pr: Orunance Sergt. L.A. Koginski of eral non-commissioned staff, has presented a gold medal to be annually awarded the enlisted man whose aggregate is greatest. rhe first wearer of the iogimski medal will be Private S. I. Scott, company A, en- gineer corps, his score being 4a. The Brigade Term Record. Not the least conspicuous feature in the records of the season was the work done by the brigade and regimental tea: Sea Girt, N. J., in August, the for ganization winning the Hilton ant Interstate trophies in the National 10:¢ Association matches, while the engi: team captured the New Jersey in trophy with a record-breaking score. Tis | latter prize now sojourns in the District of Columbia for {ts third consecutive ye having been won in 1891 and sy: bat with the t or ond of ny rifle his a 500) en- Or- the vy tie} first regiment team. All the priacipal prizes in the individual military competi- tion at the Sea Girt meeting were woa by District National Guardsmen—the Wimble- don cup (carrying with it the long range championship of the United States) 1 Private 8. I, Scott, company A, engincer: corps; the Kuser match (at 500 yards) b Private John A. Kirk, company B, sixth battalion; the all-comers’ military (at 200 and fu) yards) by Acting First Lieutenont J. M. Pol mendable rd, engineer corps. Highly com- work was alsy done by other | om would | 4 members of the detachment, and it is but proper that especial mention be made of the grit displayed by tae team of the sixth battalion, Composed of members of cam- pany 6, ana commanded by Captain J. S. ‘Tomlinson. Later in the season a match shot be- tween eight members of our brigade team and a New Jersey state team of eight— each team firing on its own range—resulted in one more victory for the District of Columbia. A Range is Needed. Fairly well equipped as to rifle galleries, the brigade lacks a suitable and sufficiently capacious outdoor range. For a small body of men possessed of ample leisure the range at the Washington barracks (as it was be- fore the butts were destroyed by the stort) was reasonably satisfactory; its convenient location is admirable, but it was almost im- possible to crowd even one small battalion through during an entire day, because of the few and slow-working targets. If it be possible, arrangements should be imade which would result in reconstruction on a modern basis, Brinton targets being used in place of the cumbersome and space- wasting Cushing frames and carriages. in that way the capacity of the range would be certainly doubied, and the efficiency of the troops increased in at least the sme ratio. The near approach of the time when the new rifle will be issued to our brigade makes necessary a search for a range where practice at from 1,500 to 2,000 yarus will be possible, and where no insuperable obstacles will interfere with the skirmisn- ing which must surely be the principal feature of rifle practice. Such a range can, I feel sure, be found within a short dist; of the city, and I most respectfully that everything possible be done to hasten its location and equipment. Gallery Practice is Benefict To the limit of our means competitions in the gallery and on the range have been heartily encouraged, and the results were gratifyingly fruitful. Especially was this so as to gallery work, and had the ed- vantages secured indoors been followed up outdoors the apparent inefficiency of many individuals and several compan'es would be much less conspicuous than :t now is. Much difficulty is still encountered when endeavor is made to convince employers cf National Guardsmen that liberality in the matter of permission to attend rifle practice during the range season is a good invest- ment; so many presumably intelligent peo- ple are yet unable to comprehend the patriotism which is the life blood of this {country's eftizen soldiery. This barrier of | Ignorance, or indifference, or both, is much less formidable, however, than it was a | year ago, except, perhaps, in some of the government departments, and there, in defiance of law and common sense, it is occasionally annoying. It must soon dis- appear. Revolver practice has been taken up in earnest by members of light battery A, the first separate company, and company C, engineer corps. Practice is had in the gal- lery fitted up and maintained by the light battery—work for which that organization is justly entitled to more praise than it has received. The adoption of a standard target for revolver practice and the ar- rangement and promulgation of a practice schedule are matters worthy immediate at- tention, the three organizations named in this paragraph being armed with the regu- lation Colt’s. Many staff and infantry off- cers would also appreciate opportunity to indulge in pistol practice. Some Improvements, At the beginning of the year the depart- ment of rifle practice was organized by pro- viding for a monthly meeting of the inspect- ors of rifie practice, held generally at bri- gade headquarters. This periodical associa- tion has been mutually beneficial to the in- dividual inspectors and advantageous to the entire command. Weak places are strength- ened, weary hands are upheld, the general program is discussed, and that unanimity of sentiment so necessary to success ing carefully cultivated. The board of officers which was called into existence for the purpose of passing upon the fitness of those who were nominat- ed as inspectors of rifle practice hus not Several candidates were examin- r practical knowledge, and in unces were reported quatified for promotion. The operations of the board have considerable influence upon the gen- eral e y, tending to a notable icrease of the average of eff ness, Tha 1 desire to hereby make acknowledgment of my gratitude to the inspectors of rifle practice for the manner in which they have attended to duty; to the officers of the third A fourth United Stat rtillery, stationed the Washington barracks, for many and much consideration; to sev- duty at Fort Myer ly rendered; to Gov- nd officers of Guard for un- adered the detach- rt, and to all who uted to the credit- nship made by the been idle. a at courtesies eral of th the National t ment that visited have in any way able showing in brigade the season just Th tices giving the record of the year’s work will be p 1 hereatter, —_ DOWN ON His .LUCK. Had a Very Pair Haul, but His Sonl Mankered for More. pm the Dy Free Press, ‘Speaking of pickpockets,” said the Bos- ton drummer in the lobby of a Detroit ho- tel the other evening, “I've met half a nun- in my time and was never nipped but He was that?” was asked. State sireet car in Chicago, and didn’t look as if he knew putty. at the pout a wateh, and it wasn’t my I i lost a hundred at had failed to con- nect I found myself in the windy city with a cash capital of only 15 cents. T went down to a store where I knew a man or two, and when they couldn't help me out with the ready one of them generously vol- unteered to let me take his watch and spout her for twenty. £ slipped her into. my trousers pocket and got on the car. When I got off the watch was gone. I felt certain 8 to who took it, but it was too late to atch him.” A cu were wild, of course?” That is, for a few seconds. red that the pickpocket had d rieg in my pocket. No y $250 diam ng ed $1 u the Boston on that ring, to tell the fellow Watch what do you nd when put the ent bac of his d out?” s worth % 1 nothing, ot ‘Things never turn out that s0--net with a Boston drum- 1 out that in his haste to send the man h those gilt ¢ y the L and you were at icking aw “And you—you— “Yes, I made ts apiece. Hi: in his pocke: out of the ned the ring. ulistied about it, exactly U never felt quite thoug’ “Your conscience upbri ids you, probably Well, perhaps. but the fellow might j as well left a $590 ring as a $250 one, you know. T! want of just more that night froze me out of the prettiest game of poker you ever saw, With over $700 In the ack pot. Ah! me, but ny way for some r —_ coe Written for The Evening Star. Can Thin Be Songh? it, alth Tm sur cher ‘Ouurg-h’? shoakd so Bat how could I es} -o--g-W* spells “tough,” Aud so T spelled my rabbit n he teacher told 1 he wouldn't stand But when we'd gotten safely through were Wet with dough, She bas no sympathy, Ske sueered at wy dismay and scoughed, Once T was troubled with a hicco And then she told me not to Kiccou: I'm sure if I were such a “stiecough" T'd have too raany slights to plecough, T thonght I'd write about a plough, Tut [shall weary you, so nough Td better make my little boagh, Aud slip before raise a rough. |LIE PERKINS. -—— soo Prof. Emil Baur, a well-known herticul- turist, w found dead in a woodshed at Ann Harbor, Mich, Death resulted from heart disease, —SS SSE A HALL BED ROOM A LIFE DRAMA, WITH THE SCENE IN THIS | cry. | —- + I first ran against her in the narrow hall of our boarding house—a large, fine-looking woman with sweet face and white hair. ‘There were lines in her face I suspected the years alone had not brought there, though she was nearer seventy than sixty, Then I found that she had the little hall bed room next to our own. Such a tiny place as it | was, with its narrow spotless bed, its strip cf carpet over the matting, its washstand, tiny table and lamp, mirror and one chair. When I knew her better and would come from that limited space into our own spa- cious, handsomely furnished room, I had a guilty sort of feeling—why were things so unequally divided in this queer world of ours? But she did not think so. She said to me one day,in her brave, bright way:“‘Isn't it fortunate, my dear, that my health keeps up as it does, and that I have this quiet little nook to rest in when I come home at night so tired, and every one is so kind to me. All my life I- have had such blessings. At first, I thought my husband's death was a terrible blow, but I have lived to thank God that he was so honest and so true end loving, and that I have only beautiful memories of that chapter of my life. Then I have never had disgrace like so many I have known.” Her clear eyes looked proud- ly into mine. “I can bear trouble, but I could not bear dishonor. Ah, yes;* she went on, “I haye been greatly blessed. I had such a dear son, just like his father, he never gave me a pang, except by his death. And then,” she went on eagerly, “I have such a lovely daughter—you must pot mind a mother’s pride—see, here she 1s.” She drew from a little bracket a prettily- framed picture which I had noticed before. It was such a striking face I could not turn my eyes from it. Such a brilliant, laughing glance; such wonderful ey: such a nameless charm. I broke fourth in the warmest admiration of the fascinating vis- ion. “And she is so good—her beauty never spoiled her. She writes me such loving let- ters. You see, it med best for her to go to my aunt in California, and I haven't seen her for years. But she has had such advantages, and my aunt writes that she has a beautiful voice and dances so well. pad sends me her pictures—that is her atest." | the stylish figure stepped down and out. In the upturned face, with {ts quick glance at the house, i recognized the original of the portrait I had so often admired. I waited nervously. A maid brought me card I expected. I had my caller shown to my room, end a moment later I stood face to face with Christine Heathcote. The arch, girlish expression familiar to me in the picture was gone. In its place was a hard defiance, which shocked me. The tall, elegant figure drew itself to its full so as om Spoke to me. “My mother has written me of you, Mrs. aan noes she said reap yl and calmly. “I have come to you for the particulars her death.’ - Something in the cool tones stung me keenly. I remembered too much of the mother to be patient, and before I knew it ou = rye falling isappointment, of her strength and Se. brave spirit. en I was through the girl's eyes fash- ed fire. “And do you think you loved = more than J, her daughter?” she cried pas- sionately. “Did I not starve myself as well as her? Did I not lie awake nights crying for a sight of her face? Is there any one like a mother on God's earth, and was not my mother the rarest and best? Do you not know that would kill her, break her heart?” hurled these ques- tions at me in a quick, defiant fashion. “Yes, you may look at me with your great, innocent eyes; but I, flesh and blood of that splendid creature, fell. I was beautiful, young and sought after. Still nothing tempted nor spoiled me until a man came to my aunt's house, who changed me en- trely. I loved him in a way of which you never dreamed. My aunt praised him, s0- ni admired him, but he cared only for “My aunt died. He confessed his love for me, and also that he was a married man. I cared for nothing else but being separated from him. I lived with him, and Jo now. He was generous and loving. You w@nder why he did not gain a divorce? There were complications. I never intended coming here, but I could not go abroad without a sight of my mother’s grave. I never Jream- ed I would come to you; but you could tell me of her. I must be honest, too—I do not, cannot, repent.” She hurried from the room. I never saw her again. NERVE DEATHS. The Number Growing at a Frightful Rate. The memory of Christine Heathcote’s face never left me—it is impossible to describe its unusual effect. And my love daily in- creased for the mother. I w a_ bride, happy, and leading a cloudless life. My home had been in a quiet inland town until I had married a young physician of the na- tional capital, and came to the city to live. We were saving part of our modest in- come while boarding, hoping to be able to go to housekeeping in year or two. In my homesick times when my husband w away I used to run into Mrs. Heathcote’ room for cheer and company. It makes me ashamed now to remember that I never thought of her needing cheer. She was al- ways so bright and uncomplaining, always so erect and noble-looking. At first, in- deed, I was horror stricken over the idea of a woman of her age working in the de- partments, but this is no rare event in Washington life, and some of our boarders looked at me in mild surprise when I,think- ing of my own mother’s sheltered life, ex. claimed over the pity of it. “It is hard, they said “but not half so hard as if she should lose her place; and she seems healthy.” But 1 was not the only one yhom Mrs. Heathcote helped and comforted. I met a sweet-faced young girl in her room several times. “She is so young to have such hard times, I love to do what I can to lift her burden, and then, in her gener- ous ways, and her goodness, she reminds me of Christine,” she said, when I asked about her visitor. And then there came ~ews of the auni’s death in California. “Perhaps Christine will come to me no’ Mrs. Heathcote sald, yearningly. “I have laid by a little, and with her voice she might be able to earn something here.” She had a joyous air in spite of her news. I never knew my aunt; she was so good to Christine,” she said, apologetically, “that I ought to mourn for her more, but I can think of nothing but seeing my baby, my darling.” Slowly the days passed, and then, as I saw a letter for Mrs. Heathcote, addressed in Christine's stylish chirography, lying in the basket in the hall, 1 felt a keen inter- est in her probable advent. I pictured her at our quiet table, with her beauty and vi- vacity. I saw my dear friend happy in her companionship; I thought of the pleasure it would give me to have a girl of my own age to partially compensate for the absence of my own sisters. I sat in my room awaiting my friend's home-coming. I heard her step, a little slower than usual; then she went into her room and the door was shut. My husband Was very late that day, and I sat reading, my thoughts divided between my book and the woman who interested me so much. Suddenly there was a light tap at my door and Mrs. Heathcote stepped within, her letter in her hand. She looked so worn and ured it went to my heart. I led her to the couch: “Ah, what news of the daughter?” 1 asked, gayly. “The dear girl thinks it best to postpone her coming,” she said quietly. “She is earning money where she is, and thinks she can help me more and do better there than here. She speaks of her singing, but does not enter into particulars—probably she thinks I would worry for fear she is over-working.”” The weeks and months passed by, but In spite of the selfishness of young and happy married people David and I noticed that Mrs. Heathcote seemed less active and moved more slowly. We used to plan that we would make her share our little home when the happy day arrived that started us in housekeeping, for David had learned to love her almost as much as I. Then the letters from Christine came, inclosing checks, with the loving words. “I shall save them and go to her,” the mother said happil; “Ah, the dear, hard- working daughter! But I could not picture that dazzling creature teaching music or doing any sort of plodding work. Whatever it was she certainly succeeded, for the checks came regularly, and always Christine was beg- sing her mother to use them solely for her own comfort. The sweet-faced young girl enjoyed part of that money, I know, and she was not the only one. And then Chris- tine wrote urging her mother to give up all work and take her long-needed rest. “I shall not yet,” Mrs, Heathcote sald to me, “for I want to prepare for my long journey and visityto my dear girl.” And | then Christine wrote that she hoped to come east in a few months. : I shall give up my plan,” the mother sald, The months went by—on wings to me— but while Mrs. Heathcote said little, as was her wont, doubtless dragging slowly to her longing heart. lt was nearing the time for Christine to come, when again my dear friend entered my room. It was later than before, and her face was white, with deeper lines, yet she smiled as she met my gaze. | “You have spoiled me, my dear child, and | Icome to you with my little troubles, in- stead of bearing them alone, as I used to | do, and as I should do now. My dear Chris- | tine writes that again she must disappoint | me, and postpone her visit two months lcnger, us she cannot leave her work now. She seems full of regret, poor girl! She is overdoing, I know, and keeps all details from me. Her father was just as unselfish and generous.” But when the two months had passed Christine wrote another letter,just as loving, just as regretful, yet again postponing her visit. And %the inmate of the little hall bed room still went every day to her work, still held her white head erect, still smiled bravely as ever. But David and I noticed a change. Her steps grew siower, her breath came irregularly at times; she grew paler, older, every week. I begged her to stop work, but she said that it made the time pass more quickly, and she would wait now until Christine came. Little acts of kindness from her hand came to my ears now and then, but never a word from her. And then the landlady early one morning and begsed me to come to Mrs. Heathcote. With my heart | dull from fear, and a presentiment of com- ing evil, I ran into the tiny room. There lay my friend at rest forever. She had taken a long journey, but it was not to Christine. | * wakened me ie, a. Be ee We had laid her away. Letters had come from Christine Heathcote, with necessary directions and liberal amounts of money. | Isat by the window thinking of the Iife | so lately ended, and wondering why Chris- tine had never come to the great mother- heart awaiting her nor allowed her to come to her. Hard thoughts came into my mind | of the daughter, and yet I banished them. She was so good and hard-working—per- haps some day I should understand and be glad that I suspended judgment. A cab rattiod up to our door. A graceful, TAR ME The Proportion Has Tuereased 20 Per Cent in 40 Years, The Boston Journal Asks, “What the Remedy?” And Finds the Answer Not a Hard One. A Quarter of All Deaths Due to American Disease. ‘The Boston Journal is certainly to be adinired. One of Boston's greatest newspapers, it frankly devotes some its energetic editorial space to the Subject which at this season is of more impoct- — to this and every community than all other Opies. “One hears the voice of the man whose knowl- edge of nerves is almost unbounded,” says the Journal, “saying that beyond any dispute nerv- ousness is growing upon us £t ¢ frightful rate.”” Quoting from Dr. Weir Mitchell it continues: fu some busy centers be finds that the number of deaths due to nervous causes has increased 20 per cent in 40 years; that one-fourth of the deaths now are from nervous diseases. His opin- fon is very confident, too, thet the Americans are, from this cause, becoming a short-lived peo- ple.” A clear statement of the nervous weakness Among the dwellers in cities and towns would send @ pang of horror and alarm through the country. Women are more under the influence of this terrible scourge than men, and town @wellers more than country folk. The Journal asks what is the remedy and finds an answer readily! Hurdreds of tired mothers, anxious housewives, School teachers and too ambitious scholars—the very flower of American womanhood—sield to the strain of the serious affairs of Mfc. Overwork and unnatural worry conéemn a hest of American women to spend their after years on a sofa or in & sick room, and te be a burden instead of a help to those who are dearest to them. Oftentimes excruciating pain as in neuralgia, rheumatism and heart trouble, but more often (especially in the spring) “that tired feeling,” is nature's cry for better nutrition in order to resist the fearful strain on the nerves and vital organs. The remedy is known to every physician and to thousands who have been benefited by it. Men and women who find themselves getting irri- table, nervous, thin, “run down’? and ailing should take Paine’s celery compound. It feeds tired, exhausted nerves, stores the blood with food for the wasted tissues and purifies it of the impure humors which result from its stagnant, unhealthy condition, Nothing has evtr equaled Paine’s celery com- pound for giving tone to the stomach and a re- newed appetite. It strikes to the root of rheuma- tism, neuralgia, diseases of the heart, the liver, kidneys and all disorders due to poor, thin blood and underfed nerves. Poor appetite, continual headaches, Joss of strength, nervous debility and ® Scrofulous, unbealthy condition of the skin at this season are sure Rigns of nervous Weakness. Paine's celery compound will rob one of the “run down" feeling, the languor and despondency that come from badly nourished pale blood and underfed orgaus of New life, a buoyant feeling and of health will come when plenty of begins to fill the arteries and invigorate the sys- tem. This is just what Paine's celery compound doing for thousands of tired men throughout the whole extent of the AD a A A Corset “Scoop” By a marvelous stroke of good luck we scooped in another lot of those Black and White Corsets, with side steels, which are a standard seller at $1 and $1.25, at such @ price that you can have them for 78c. Pr. ‘Warranted satisfactory, or mon- ey back—you risk nothing, except disappointment if you put off. M. C. Whelan’s Corset Store, 1003 FE st. ANS ‘ |= mo | 2 a APPAR | 507 12TH ST. N.W. SURGEON SPECIALIST. Over yolive rs’ experience, THIRD YEAR AT PRESENT ADDRESS. Dr. Carleton treats = the skill Dorn of eape- lence Nervous _Debility Special “Diseases. Practice limited to_the treatment of Gentlemen Exclusively Inflammation, Nervous Debility. Eruptions, Bladder, Blotehes, Kiuueys, Si Urinary Sediment, Ul Contased ideas, | Sore Spots, Desindene; Did you sow the wind? Have you reaped the whirlwind? Are you beginning to lose vour ng? Do you realize tliat you'are beginulug to feel id | before your time? i Is life losing fits charms { Do you feel Conauit Dr. € solutel; the outs guaranteed. Valnable pamphlet free. Hours, 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. and from 6 Sundays, 19 to 2 . only. € - fe27-eocma Nectar Fit For Gods. Our Old Mandheling Java and Arabian Mo- cha Coffees are THE BEST that money can buy—roasted (and pul- verized ifdesired) onthe premises—We thusrun no risk of having our famous Coffee “mixed” at the roasters—Once you try our Coffee will use none thie Only 38c. Ib. ; Call, send, write or telephone. Cornwell & Son, Choice Groceries and Table Luxuries, 1412, 1414 Pa. Ave. Suffer No Longer. Have your feet treated at_once ait, Me's mers. og ma Specialists Parlors, 1115 Pa. ave. t.w. nigh'™ %6 pam Sundsy, 92m. tol pm steers SUMMER its “work well does, THE NATURAL STONE cooo e000 0000 000000 ec0o0e 00000 000000 eoovo0e 000000 000000 bear any 000000 kind of inv tion. 900000 CFS for & “Glove-itting” Shoe 0 00000 measure. <7 is} 929 F St. N.W “Successor to Wilson & Carr. SPRING HATS. for Knox's Hate The new epring be. — im Was biorks silks, aud $5 is emet AND Pik Stin