Evening Star Newspaper, June 23, 1894, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 93, 1894-TWENTY PAGES. OFFICIAL CLERGYMEN ‘WINNING HIS STAR - OR THE ADVENTURES OF Army and Navy Chaplains Employed PAUL TRAVERS. by Uncle Sam. 19 and are slit at the shoulders. The waist is full and gathered to a band of the Dolka-dotted material, as are also the short unfortunately a fact that chaplains, rule, are not very popular in the navy. It is easily understood that a clergyman finds himself in rather an anomalous position among a lot of young officers in the ward room. Some of the: "e apt to be more or less ribald, and there is much of the merri- ment in which a minister of the gospel can- not well join. On the other hand, to sit apart and look solemn is undesirable. A craplain has been known to spoil all the BATHING COSTUMES Simple Suits for Both Big and Little Girls, PEEPS OSE OO ODD Nervous, Chronic, Skin and Blood Diseases, ALL SPECIAL DISEASES, PRIVATELY, SAFELY AND PERMANENTLY CURED aT TUB Written for The Evening Star by Sam Clover, HOW 70 MAKE THE COSTUMES Suitable Materials That Make Up Well. PRETTY AND BECOMING ‘Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. HE HOTELS along the coast will soon be open now, and all the summer boarders who flock to them will be pro- vided with their end- less varieties of charming gowns. But the bathing suit must fot be forgot- ten, as it is one of the most important features in the ward- robe of the army of va ‘The children are quite as fond of the surf as their elders, so in the first fllustration is shown a suit for a little girl of about nine years. The waist and skirt are made bre atti piece and button up the back, lull Turkish trousers having a cotton body made low-necked and with no sleeves, or, what will be easier made, a band with buttonholes in it around the waist, and buttons sewed inside the belt, which joins the skirt and waist. The little suit is cut square neck, and has sleeves reaching to Just above the elbow and cut on the coat sleeve pian. Large sleeves are very pretty, but flannel, when soaked in water, is an uncomfortably heavy burden for a little tot to carry around. Sweet Sixteen. Number two is for an older girl of about @ixtcen. The waist has a low-necked yoke, which is cut in two points back and front, which are edged with braid. The waist is full, the fullness being massed at the top between the points of the yoke and dis- tributed round the waist. A ruffle, narrow fm back and front, and growing wider over the shoulders, gives a finish to the neck. Short puff sleeves, gathered to a marrow band, complete the waist. The skirt fs full and gathered to a belt, which fastens in the back. Dark gray flannel ‘would look well made up after this pat- tern and trimmed with navy blue braid. In Striped Red and White. The third design ts for a grown girl, and is made cf cream flannel and trimmed’ with stripe! ret and white goods, which is cut on the bias. This also has a yoke, but larger and longer than the previous one. It is cut pointc! at top and bottom, the stripes being made to match In points ia front and back. The sleeves are. merely double ruffies, rather narrow, and made to fit high up on the shoulders and gathered to a short, straight sleeve. There Is a little fullness In the front of this suit, but none fs allowed for in the back. The short skirt has a band of the striped goods and a belt to mateh. A Sensible Costume. | ‘The small figure in the fourth illustra-| ion wears a sensible sult, which will an-| swer for either a little girl or boy. It has) full Turkish trousers and is worn withont @ skirt. The waist is something on the, ‘Dicuse order, but does not hang over quite so much, and has a full belt or sash, which fastens in the back and is put on separate- | ly. It ts cut high necked and has short | Siceves. A little pointed collar—two points im back and front—encircles the neck and @ band of the came color as the collar finishes off the sleeves. A_ bathing dress for a girl of fourteen @ shown next. It is of the regulation navy | dlue flannel and is trimmed in whize polka- jotted material of the same color. The revers are of this latter material Another picture for a very small girl is Regulation Navy B sleeves. A single row of half-inch braid [ag @ neat finish to the bottom of the irt. Girl. shown this time. and can Pretty color flannel, with a contrasting | shade for the collar, belt and ruffles on the edge of the full trousers. The little| waist hus a straight yoke, to which is gath- ered the full body. The yoke is cut down low in a point at the top and a wide sailor collar is added. The skirt has a belt of the contrasting material and {ts put on arately from the rest of the sult. The waist and trousers are cut out in one plece and are confined about the waist by the belt of the skirt. be made of any | m Flannel. Number seven is of maroon flannel and has a collar and belt of white duck that are trimmed with black braid. The belt is straight across and wide in the back and ‘ut down toward the center in front, as shown in the filustration. The waist is full back and front, being gathered on the shoulders, and has short puffed sleeves. The neck is cut in a deep point and filled in by a straight piece of bluck flannel. A wide tow of black braid ts placed on the edge of the large sailor collar and two smaller rows above it. The belt and narrow white duck band about the edge of the skirt are Similarly trimmed. The waist buttons in front with black buttons and the skirt is put on afterward and fastens at the back or side. See. eee In Natty Jersey. The only young man of the party wears such a simple suit that it hardly needs a/ description. It is made, however, of the! usual jersey cloth so much used for small | boys’ suits and is cut in two pieces, and) looks decidedly cool and comfortable. For a Grown Girl. The last picture is for a grown girl. It will look so much better when made on a lining that I think it will amply repay the trouble. It is slightly full on the shoulders, the fullness being massed at the middle of back and front, as shown in the cut. The waist is cut rather long and ts turned slightly under at the watst. The short leeves are fitted and without fullness. It is trimmed in zig-zag braid—one row about the skirt and arms and two encircling the body—the first row being put on two inches above the waist line and the second | row two inches above the first. M. E. 8. ee : Business. From Truth. “What do you do when an editor refuses @ poem?” “I send that poem to another editor.” “And when an editor accepts a poem “I send another poem to that editor. coe a Uncle Treetop—“That heifer is two years old.” City Niece—“‘How do you know?” jtain at the end of each week what has} | manding officer to pass ammunition or even A LIFE POSITION FOR A FAVORED FEW Good Pay and Little Work, With No Heresy Trials. WOMEN NOT ELIGIBLE —_.—___— Written for The Evening Star. C trices ita Springer has found an easy berth for his son in an army chap- laincy. There is as much pressure for places of this sort as for any of the minor offices in the gift of the President. Great numbers of clergy- men are always anx- fous to get an op- portunity to serve Uncle Sam _profes- sionally. To that end some of them give up ricb and prospering parishes, though why is a mystery. Apparently, the almost universal appetite for place-hunting seizes them. The United States army has thirty-four chaplains, stationed at forts all over the country, Seven of them are Baptists, nine are Episcopalians, eleven are Methodist two are Presbyterians, one is a Congrega- Uonalist, one is a Lutheran, one is a Chri: tian and two are Catholic priests. The Question of denomination cuts no figure in this branch of the service. Appointments are always made by favor and without any regard whatever for the religious demands of soldiers and officers. Four of the chap- Jains referred to are regimental chaplains, attached to the four colored regiments, two of infantry and two of cavalry. Three of these men are negroes. Pay in the Army. The pay of a newly commissioned army chaplain is $1,350 a year, to which 10 per cent is added for euch five years of service. He has always the relative rank of a cap- tain of infantry. After retirement he re- ceives three-fourths of the pay of that rank. No age limit restricts appointments. A clergyman may enter the service at the age of sixty-three years and eleven months, retiring a few days later with the rank and pay of @ captain. It will be seen that a chaplain is actually much better off than a Ine officer, inasmuch as he does not have to go through long years of service for slow Promotion. Like a captain, he is entitled to commodious quarters at government ex- pense, comprising five rooms. A chaplain in the army is not obliged to fight under any circumstances. He has no arms. His uniform is a plain black frock coat, buttoned to the neck with nine black buttons. Ic is prescribed that the buttons shall be in front; to button the garment up behind wouid not be consistent with the regulations. This, with a black hat, serves for both undress and full dress. The chap- lain has charge of religious matters in gen- eral at the post where he is stationed. He enters in a book all marriages, baptisms and funerals at which he offictates. This book is a part of the records of the post and is regularly inspected. In addition, he superintends the instruction of enlisted men and children at the post. He is a school teacher as weil as a clergyman. It is quite as likely as not that the re- Mgious views of the army people at the post will not coincide with those of the chaplain in matters of detail governed by sectarian prejudice. His ssignment to duty has no reference to that consideration. Ata st where Presbyterian sentiment Prevails a Catholic priest may be on duty. However, nobody who does not wish to do 8o is obliged to attend divine service. Even the common soldiers and sailors of the United States cannot be subjected to com- pulsion in this regard. Before the war plous commanding officers at certain forts com- pelled all non-church-going soldiers to spend an hour or more every Sunday in listening to the reading of the regulations and a: ticles of war. This was, in effect, a pun ment, and it has been done away with. Similarly, Admiral Godon used to force sailors who did not attend divine service to toe a plank for a while. Also Act as Schoolmaster. An act of Congress passed in 1833 created the office of “post chaplain and schoolmas: ter." The appointee was neither enlisted nor commissioned. The pay attached to the position was raised from time to time until it reached $100 a month, to which rations were added. In 1867 Congress made the chaplains commissioned officers and | gave them relative ranks as captains. They | are obliged to pass only a physical exam-| ination, but it is required that they shall | be regularly ordained clergymen in good | standing in their denominations. Young | W. R. Springer, the Congressman’s son, | was ordained as a Methodist minister two | mont! ago. He is twenty-five years old. For some time past he has been clerk of his father's committee on banking and cur- rency in the House, at $6 a day. Netter in the Navy. An appointment as chaplain in the United States navy is even more desirable than in the army. It is likewise a life position, equally a sinecure, and much better paid. The naval clergyman during his first five years of service gets $2,500 per annum while at sea, $2,000 on shore duty and $1,600 | ‘on lea After five years he receives $2,800 | at sea, $2,300 ashore and $1,800 on leave. There is no further advance of salary. On | being retired, he draws for the rest of his; life 75 per cent af his sea pay of $2,800 a} year. It will etsily be seen that these Places are among the most desirable in the gift of the government. There are twenty chaplains in the navy now. According to law, the four oldest in the service have relative rank as captains, the next seven Tank us commanders, the next seven as Heutenant-commanders or lieutenants,while the rest have no rank. : The duties of chaplain at sea are by no means arduous. He must perform divine wervice on the ship at such times as the captain may prescribe; also he may be de- tailed to duty on board of a vessel which has no regular chaplain, or at a naval hos- | pital or shore station. He is permitted to conduct services according to the methods | recognized as proper by his church. At the| same time, he must afford all tacilities to other clergymen who may be allowed by the captain to visit the ship for the pur- pose of preaching or giving religious in- struction. If a Hebrew rabbi comes aboard with tuat object in view, he must be wel- comed. The chaplain may form Sunday school classes on board ship, with the captain's approval. He must not push his religious instruction where it is not wanted, but he nay proselytize privately as much as he \ikes. He is required to visit the sick fre- quently. Under the direction of the com-! n.anding officer, he supervises the teaching | of boys and such of the sailor-men es de- | sire to learn reading, writing, arithmetic and geography. He must report to the cap-| | been taught and the progress made by each pupil. On shore stations he has often noth- ing to do. Rev. Mr. Henry B. Hibben, late- ly deceased, was on duty for a long time at the Washington navy yard. Having noth-| ing else to occupy himself with, he was in- | structed by the commandant to write a| history of the yard. The volume, which contains much interesting matter, will soon be published by Congress. May Have to Fight. Every man on board of a modern war- ship is supposed to be a fighter. The naval chaplain might be called upon by the com- to help in hauling a gun. However, his duty would ordinarily be to aid the wound- ed. While performing divine service he wears the vestments of his church. At cther times he Is clad in a uniform of black with shoulder straps naving crosses as a part of their design. There are two Catho- lic priests in the navy. The sailors are largely Catholics, many of them being Irish, French and Italians. But no attention whatever is paid to such matters in the ap~ pointment of chaplains or in their assign- ment of duty. It ts required that a candi- date for one of these positions shall be not under twenty-one years of age or over thirty-five. The examination is physical only. ‘A chaplain on board ship takes his meals with the ward room mess. He may say “By her horns.” “Oh, to be si she has only two."—Life. grace before meals if the officer who ha pens to be caterer does not object. It is fun of a mess, objecting to smoking, and so causing the withdrawal of that privilege from the ward room by the captain. On the other id, there are good fellows in this branch of the service, who take things as they find them, ani take as large a part in amusements on board and ashore as 1s permitted to them by the cloth they wear. The percentage of Catholics among sail- ors in the United States navy is growing rapidly less on account of the policy which new prevails of enlisting Americans in preference to foreigners. A visitor on one of our warships is astonished to hear strange languages spoken by a majority of the bluejackets on board. Down at Old Point Comfort the other day one Nor- Wwegian seaman belonging to the Miantono- moh was heard to remark to one of his mates: “I saw him yump into the yollyboat. Yasus, what a yump!” Orthodoxy cuts no figure in the chap- laincy business. No chaplain in the navy or army has ever been tried for heresy. There would seem to be no good reason why women should not serve capably as army chaplains, but they are not possible in the navy. No woman is allowed cn beard of a seagoing ship of war, except as a visitor, This is a new field, by the way, for the woman's rights movement to enter. When Farragut visited Europe on the Wa- bash after the close of the rebellion he could not take Mrs. Farragut with him. She was obliged to cross the ocean on a mail steamer. Liability to Dismissal. A chaplain may be dismissed from the army or navy like any other officer. Even the President of the United States, however, cannot deprive him of his commission with- out a court-martial. As might be imagined, Uncle Sam's chaplains have rarely got into trouble. One of them was permitted to re- sign a few years ago on account of im- morality, which the Secretary of War thought it undesirable to advertise by hold- ing an open court and publishing the facts in general orders for the edification of the entire service. It has been frequently proposed that chap- lains in the army and navy should be done away with. It is charged that they are of no practical use, and that their places are sinecures, which would be best abolished. However, the weight of public opinion seems to incline to the conclusion that the twin services are rather godless any way and none the worse for a little religious supervision. RENE BACHE. Be NT ND CENTIPEDES, SCORPIONS A: Their Stings Are Not So Dangero: is Commonly Reported. “No, I don’t believe that the sting of any scorpion would kill a human being, save, Ferhaps, under extraordinary conditions. In southern latitudes wounds of any kind are more dangerous than in cooler climates, and the setting in of fever may produce fatal results.”” The speaker was Dr. George Marx of Washington, who is recognized as the great- est authority on arachnids in this country. “Scorpions are tropical anim: added. “They do not get very far: north. They live under the bark of long-leaved pines in the northern part of their range, and, inasmuch as trees of that kind do not occur in this vicinity, they find no suitable domicile hereabouts. Such pines grow in Baltimore county, Maryland, and so a spe- cles of scorpion exists there. It is yellow with brown stripes, and measures about two inches in length. “The biggest scorpions in the world are those of India, which attain a length of six inehes. In California scorpions four snd one-half inches long are found. They are the largest tween them and the smallest species are many. The sting of a small one is about as severe as that of a wasp, and the effects of it soon pass. The Scorpion’s St “The scorpion carries its tail over its back and snaps it backward for the pur- bose of inflicting a sting. It has two poison glands side by side in the last joint of its tail It is said that scorpions will commit suicide by stinging themselves to death when they are put into a circle of burning charcoal. I don't know whether this is true er not; the question has not been cleared up. “Sccrpions live on beetle larvae and slow- running Insects. They conceal themselves under the bark of trees in the daytime and pursue their prey at night. The whip-tailed scorpions—so called because of a pecu appendage of which the use is not known— are not poisonous. For the purpose of de- fense they squirt fine streams of a fluid that smeils like vinegar. Doutbless it is offen- sive to some of their enemies.” The Centipede. Every now and then one reads in the newspapers a frightful story about @ centi- pede. According to these accounts, the ant- mal is just a bit more dangerous than a rattlesnake. Not only is its bite fatal, but it carries poison in the ttle claws with which its numerous legs are terminated. Crawling over a man’s bare flesh, it burns like fire. To move is death, for then the creature will dig its envenomed feet into the victim, who will presently be reduced to the condition of a loathsome and bloated corpse. All of this is purest fable. An_expert in centipedes is attached to the Smithsonian Institution. He knows all about the creatures, and he says that the bite of one of these animals ts less ous than the sting of the scorpion. That it could ever kill anybody is most unlikely. The claws are sharp and unpleasant to the feel when a centipede walks over the bare skin, but they have no venom. There are two distinct types of centipedes. One of them may be termed the true centl- pede type, with a flat body and only one pair of legs on each segment. The largest forms are all poiscnous. Whether the smaller ones are so is undetermined. The Jaws of this kind of centipede are perforat- ed by channels which convey the poison into the wound made by the bite. The ac- tion is somewhat the same as in the case of @ venomous serpent. The other type of centipede is bullt on the thousand-leg plan and attains a length of ten inches. The biggest in this part of the world will not exceed five inches. It has four legs to each segment, and some- times as many as sixty-live segments. It is easy to count up how many legs that makes. Though not as many as 1,000, they are sufficient. This style of centipede is never poisonous. Centipedes feed on rot- ten wood and other decaying vegetable material. They live in the ground and among rotten leaves and wood. Centipedes ax Roommates, In some parts of the world centipedes are regarded with superstitious veneration. A friend of the writer's once visited Buenos Ayres and engaged a room at a boarding house. He found eight large centipedes in his quarters before he went down to din- ner. Having killed them, he informed the landlady of the circumstance. She ex- pressed the utmost grief, and Ceclared th: the destruction of the creatures would take | away ail good luck from her establishment | for eight years to come—one year for each centipede. Centipedes, as well as great spiders, are sometimes brought to this country from the tropics with fruit. They are often found hidden in bunches of bananas. Scorpio make the voyage in the same way. A n: val officer tcld The on board ship and conceal themselves in shoes or other garments. It is not pleasant to put one’s arm in the sleeve of a coat and to find an unlooked-for scorpion there. The arachnid, if a fresh intruder, is likely to be very much more poisonous, and its bite correspondingly more severe, than af- ter it has been on the vessel for a while. os From Life. “Not getting on well that occur in America. Be- | | | | | } reading, and, sitting on a bench near the | | Star writer that in | warm latitudes big scorpions are apt to get | © | (Copyrighted, 1894. All rights reserved.) CHAPTER XI. HE CITY OF Christchurch is seven miles inland from the port of Lyttleton, and for a good part of that distance a rail- road tunnels through @ solid rock, an en- gineering feat of which the Canterbury provincials have good reason to be proud. It was a gloomy jour- ney for Paul, whose spirits were not of the brightest, but a sniff of the fresh, salt sea after his stuffy ride had a cheering effect, and he soon forgot his troubles in the effort to get a berth. It was his intention to ship from Lyttle- ton aboard one of the passenger steamers plying between New Zealand and Austral- jan ports—Melbourne preferred—which city he was eager to visit. But he was not more fortunate in obtaining a billet here than at San Francisco, and after meet- ing a dozen rebuffs he gave up the attempt and secured passage on a small coaster to Dunedin, one of the principal cities of New Zealand. At Dunedin, a bustling, hilly city of 50,000 inhabitants, settled mainly by the thrifty Scotch, Paul stayed three week: vainly endeavoring to secure a position in any capacity on one of the many steamers touching at that port. His small savings, although carefully handled, slowly melted away during this period of idleness, and by the end of the third week he had dispensed with one or two articles of his wardrobe which he began to consider as unnecéssary luxuries, The outlook was blue, and the boy several times thought regretfully of the circus and his three meals a day, and wondered if he hadn't been too hasty in burning his ships. One bright afternoon, while sitting on a aooring block at the wharf, watching the steamer for Melbourne and Sydney make fast and mentally wishing he was aboard her, he spied a familiar figure run across the gangway that had just been lowered sel's side. In a minute he was off his perch, yelling, “Davy, O Davy!” at the top of his voice. The cause of this sudden outburst was a slim lad about Paul's own age, who, hear- ing his name called, halted irresolutely un- til, tracing the sound, he gave a shout of recognition and came up the dock on a run. “Hello, Paul!” he exclaimed. “What in the world are you doing here? Thought you was with the circus!” “So I was up to a month ago, when I tired of the job and quit. But say, what are you doing on the Koturah?" “Working, faith. Shipped as brass trim- mer and lamp cleaner at Auckland tip before this and like the billet first rate. ‘Nough sight better than the hotel I can tell you.” Davy Marston had been a sort of boy-of- all-work at the hotel in Auckland where Paul and the circus hands boarded while the show was in that city and the two lads had become quite intimate. Davy was a slerider, dreamy kind of a chap whose par- ents were both dead, so that he had been compelled to shift for himself at an early age. Bright, cheerful and obliging he was a most companionable little fellow, toward whom Paul had been greatly attracted. When the troupe left town Davy caught the | fever for travel and decided to go away, too, and through the good offices of the locai | agent of the steamship company he obtain- ed a berth oa the Koturah, with which ship he had made the round trip to Australia | and was now on his second voyage. He de- clared money couldn't hire him to work on shore again. Paul sighed. “Wish I could strike a piece of luck like that,” he dolefully remarked. “Do you suppose there’s any show for me on board, Davy?" The boy puckered his forehead and thought a minute. “Seems to me I heard the pantryman say they were shorthanded in the galley. Tell you what I'll do. Wait here while I skip back and see if I can’t put in a few good licks for you. Don’t count = me too much, but I'll do the very best can.” Away sped the good-hearted young colo- nial, leaving Paul intently praying for the sucess of his mission. In twenty minutes the lad returned, his honest face wreathed in smiles. “Did it up brown,” he gasped, between breaths. “You're to get your kit and come aboard right away. Cook says he'll find a place for you in the galley helping him.” Barely stopping to express his gratitude off Paul started for his boarding house, where he settled his bill with the last shil- ling he possessed, hastily threw his be- longings in his valise, and rushed back to the vessel, where Davy was on hand wait- ing to receive him. Half an hour later Paul might have been seen in the ship's galley, seated on an in- verted bucket, his coat off, and his sleeves rolled back to his elbows, peeling “spud” as if he had served a life apprenticeship at the task. And Davy chancing by the open doorway chuckled audibly at the sight, a significant wink from Paul helping him to a keener appreciation of the joke. The days which ensued were full of in- terest to the young Chicagoan, who was too happy planning for the future to feel at all humiliated by the drudgery of nis work. Leaving Port Chalmers behind, the Koturah’s next stop was at the Bluff, and then the boat headed direct for Melbourne, reaching Fort Philip after a delightful run. It had been Paul's idea all along to quit the vessel at Melbourne, to which point he intended having his mail forwarded from Sydney, but his relations on board had been so leasant that when Davy urged him to go on as far as Sydney he was easily per- suaded. Before Port Jackson heads were sighted one of the understewards was taken se- riously ill, and when the Koturah steamed alongside her deck at the circular quay his condition was so alarming that the ship's doctor advised his removal to the city hos- pital, where he could have better care. This made a vacancy on the saloon staff, which the chief steward was disposed to fill by offering Paul the position. The temptation to stay awhile longer in such pleasant quarters was so strong that after a short mental struggle Paul yielded and gracefully accepted the proffered ad- vancement. But before the beat cast loose on her return trip to Auckland he obtained | leave to go up town to inquire for his mail, a goodly budget of which he fully expected to find awaiting him at the post office. Nor was he disappointed. Big, fat let- (ters in the dear, well-known handwriting | were given him bearing the old, famillar Chicago postmark, half blurred, it is true, as usual, but still decipherable. He strolled over into Cook Park for an undisturbed colossal statue of the great circumnavi- gator in whose honor the park is named, grecdily devoured the thrice welcome epistles. Letters from home. Only those who have journeyed thousands of miles from all they hold dear, and who have been deprived of ail news regarding them for endless wecks, te with what trembling anx- Paul tore open his first letter. He ed and cried by turns as he read the written pages from his mother which told of Madge’s clever sayings, of Edith's longings for her comrade brother, of his father’s latest fit of ludicrous forget. fulness and of the hundred and one petty details of home life, every item of which was of intensest interest to the wanderer. Now that her boy was fairly launched on his long tramp the gentle mother had ceased grieving on account of his absence, but on every page her messages of caution predominated. Paul absorbed the loving admonitions his eyes became blurred and the tears stole swiftly down his cheeks, to be stemmed a moment later as he read some particularly bright bit of absurdity credited to his light-hearted, mirth-lovini sister, Madge. All the letters were pena in a cheerful spirit, as if the writers were determined to leave the recipient in a pleasant frame of mind following their can apprec! fety perusal, After an hour spent in reading and rereading the precious missives the lad stowed t carefully away in inside pocket and strolled back to the ship, pen- sive but happy. Paul had heard much about the beauties of Sydney harbor since his advent in south- ern waters, but the realization of them far exceeded his expectations. As the stately Koturah steamed down the bay on ker way to Port Jackson Heads in the full glare of the noonday sun, a panorama of entrancing loveliness was unfolded that held the lad spellbound. All this he had missed on the trip, owing to the lateness United States Academy 807-809-811 14th St. N ERGY, IMPOVERISHED KLOOD, WEAK MEMORY, DEF BCTIVE LEPSY, PARal 1 DISEASES OF THE NERVOUS HE sy! OFFICE HOURS—MONDAY, WEDNESDAY AY, THURSDAY Jeb, 28-28 of the hour in entering the Heads, so that he now for the first time saw the bay in all its matchless splendor. The waters were dotted with big and lit- tle craft of every description. The gently sloping banks on either side were crowned with luxuriant foliage, amid which the eye caught glimpses of charming white villas with wide, cool-looking verandas and green- jalousied blinds, which lent a semi-tropical and wholly delightful aspect to the har- monious picture. That its natural beauties and excellent anchorage entitled the bay of Sydney to be accounted one of the finest harbors in the world Paul did not question, and he reluctantly turned away from the enchanting vision to answer a peremptory call from below, where his services were needed. Outside Port Jackson Heads, into the Pa- cific ocean, the Koturah plowed her way with the fairest weather abreast her keel that heart could desire. It was not sur- prising that, stirred by the sight of the broad, silvery moon, the pondlike stillness of the water, and the soft, balmy breeses sighing through the shrouds, the younger people on board should be eager to take ad- Vantage of @ situation so delightful. The consent of the captain being gained, a Geck concert and dance was planned, the pro- ceeds from which it was proposed to donate to the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society of New South Wales. As everybody was expected to contribute in some way to the success of the ente>- tainment, the understewards were on their mettle. One was @ good player, another a capital mimic, and a third was clever at sleight-of-hand tricks. Paul was urged by his new comrades to give a Yankee recitation, and readily agreed to do his share. The second night out from Sydney Capt. Barrett had the after deck canopied with flags and bunting; the piano was brought up from the saloon, benches were improvised for the audience, and the passengers responded gallantly to the in- vitation to fill the seats. Interspersed among them were the sailors, arrayed in their best outfits, their blue jerseys and white hats producing a very pleasing «f- fect in the soft light shed by the Chinese lanterns. Overhead shone the brilliant Southern Cross, the sharp outline of which could be traced through the thin fabric of the Union Jacks which formed a partial protection fro: e night dews. The water was like glass; a jus moon trailed her silvery | sheen in the vessel's wake and as the mu- sical notes of the sweet soprano soloist drifted away from the ship it required no great stretch of imagination to believe that every tiny wavelet rippling in the molten beams was the head of a enticed to the surface by the wonderful charms of | the human voice. Voca} and instrumental music in solos, duets and quartets followed in delightful succession, alternating with readings and recitations by the combined ship's talent. aul'’s modest rendition of Will Carleton’s ‘Betsy and I Are Out,” with its homely pathos, seemed to strike a popular chord in the breasts of the audience and the “young Yankee” was vigorously applauded, an encore being demanded. He responded with John Hay’s “Little Breeches,” the de- livery of which completely captured the colonials and evoked a lot of pleasant com- pliments that were not entirely undeserved. The concert ended, the benches were car- ried away, the deck was cleared for action, and with piano and fiddle for music, the younger passengers enjoyed the novelty of |a dance in midocean. Promptly at midnight | the captain gave the signal for “Home, | Sweet Home,” the tune changing quickly to “God Save the Queen,” which brought all the loyal colonists to their feet, and ciosed the evening's unique entertainment. At Auckiand the Koturah landed the ma- jority of her Australian passengers, but a new batch was shipped in their stead. At) Wellington and Lyttleton their numbers were tly augmented by a delegation of ministers and their families who were on their way to South Australia to attend | an annual conference, so that by the time | Dunedin was reached every inch ef cabin | Space on the ship was taken. The Koturah was not one of the best boats in the service, but she was a good, stout vessel, and, having been recently overhauled and thoroughly repaired, was considered perfectly safe. her skipper, Capt. Barrett, although a young man, was _ extremely popular, as much on account of his amiable disposition as for his ex- cellent seamanship, so that the Koturah usually carried a fine list. On this occasion she was taxed to her full capacity, due to the fact that instead of proceeding direct to Melbourne from the Bluff she was advertised to go first to Ade- laide in order to accommodate the number of people desirous of attending conference in the South Australian colony. The beau- tiful weather which had prevailed so jong attracted a much larger number of excur- sionists than was expected, and when the boat left Dunedin she had seventy people in the first and second cabins and about eighty steerage passengers. Naturally the work of attending to the wants of so many people gave Paul very few leisure moments, so that he and Davy had lit ti to visit or gossip. Late in the evening after 4eaving Dunedin the two boys met in the steward’s room for a short chat, when Paul was surprised to find his chum looking unusually serious and depressed. “Why, what ails you tonight, Davy?” he asked. “You're as glum as a hired mourn- er.” “I know it, Paul, and the worst of it is I can’t get over the feeling, It's all on ac- count of a dream I had last night. I thought I was lying on the bottom of the ocean with my eyes wide open watching a proces- sion of drowned persons dropping down, down, down from the surface directly be- fore me, and each face bore such a sorrow- | ful expression that I was terrified and I know that I must have cried out in my sleep. The picture was so vivid that I couldn't forget it when I woke up, and do you know, Paul,” here the lad lowered his voice to a whisper, “I have been seeing those same faces all day and they've taken on the features of our new passengers. It scares me; I feel as if something awful was going to happen and I can’t get rid of the notion to save my life. You may lauzh, | perhaps, and say it’s all nonsense—may be it is—but the thing sticks. Ugh! it’s a hor- | rible sensation,” and the boy shuddered. Paul didn’t laugh. Davy had toll his dream so simply, yet so earnestly, that he felt impressed in spite of his inclination to look upon the whole matter as an ordinary nightmare arising from overwork and a nervous physical ccndition. He saw Dav: was greatly disturbed, so wisely refrained |from treating the story too lightly. “Oh, | well, old fellow,” he exclaimed in his chee->- fest tones, “I wouldn't fret about it; you know that won't do any good. If I were you I'd turn in right away and get a good sleep. You'll feel better in the morning. Davy slowly shook his head, and, placing erved: There's such a leaden ight that it seems as if something mi give way. Say, do you believe in omen: he abruptly inquired. o Paul hesitated before answering. “I don't know; I have read of some very queer mani- festations,” he presently admitted, “but I never had any personal experiences. Why?” “Because,” said Davy, very solemnly and | impressively, “I am certain that dream of | mine is coming true. Something tells me | I shall never get off this boat alive. I can’t | describe my sensations; nothing like the | feeling ever took hold of me before, but 1 | believe I am—am doomed,” and, dropping Eis face between his hands, the sensitive, overwrought boy burst into a paroxysm of tears. His companion was greatly shocked and more powerfully moved than he cared to admit even to himself. “Oh, come, come, Tfavy, you musn't go on like this, or you'll be tll. prescription to quiet your nerves and put you to sleep. You've working too | hard, that’s what's the trwibdle. Brace up, ‘old fellow, and don’t get frightened by a ERVOUS DEBILITY. DECAY OF BODY VITALITY, MOMACH and LIVER DISORDERS, ‘STEM, ARE AND SATURDAY, 9 ASL TOS PAL AST Let me go to the doctor and get a/ Medicine and Surgery, -W., Washington, D. AND MIND, WEAK EYES, 1. AD ACHE, WAKEFULNESS, bt WHEN . C. < OF PermanentlyCured byRemedies that are not injurious: REMARKABLE CURE <X OLD CASES WHICH HavE N PERFECTED tis ad NEGLECTED OR UNSKILL- WE MAKE NO EXPERIMENTS OR FAILURES. AND. 2 AM. TO 4 P.M. TO 9 P.M. SUNDAY, io DOL PEPPPOOOOO OOPS ODEO OSS OEE DIOLS E SOS SSO LOSSES OSS OSOED mere dream. You this time tomorrow. He passed his arm caressingly around the neck of the perturbed boy and patted hin shoulder as he strove to soothe and Treas- sure him. Prerently the sobs ceased and Davy raised his tear-swollen face. “You're @ good chap, Paul,” he said, with an effort to keep his voice steady, “and I’m so wlad that I was able to do you a service. I want you to think weil of me, no matter what happens. Perhaps I'm a bit foolish after all.” Then he wrung his friend's hand, choked back @ sob, and turned away. And after he was gone Paul remembered with @ Queer thrill that it was “good-vye’ and not “good night” that Davy had said, ‘The recollection troubled him. He was altogether too sturdy and healthy « lad to be in the least superstitious, but as he strolied meditatively toward his bunk that “good-bye” rang in his ears until he was almost tempted vo foliow Davy to his berta and ask him what it meant. But this, he concluded, might lead w another painful Scene, so, shrugging his shoulders as if te throw off an unpieasant load, he decided to turn in for the ntgnt. Half a dozen of under stewards sat around the sleepii quarters in various stages of undress as Paul entered the com- partment. Some of them had been dis- cussing the ship's course, and one of the older boys remarked that the meanest part of the trip was just ahead. He explained that the passage from Dunedin to the blurt, which, as they well knew, is the most Southern point on the island, was consider- ed very dangerous on account of the ex- tremely rocky coast and because the course in some parts lies right between ugly reefs jon one side and a number of half-sub- | merged rocks shorewara. Added to this Was a treacherous swell, requiring smart Pavigation to take a@ vessel through in safety, particularly in muggy weather. “Ot course,” he oracularly added, “there’ no danger when a man like Capt. Barrett on watch, and old Koturah’s been too often to get caught 3 but, Just | the same, I'd as lief be round the point and headed for Adelaide.” With which comforting observation he kicked off his shoes and disappeared in his bunk. It was a long time before Paul slept. The vision of Davy's sorrowful face him, and then, too, the yarn spun by the under steward, now blissfully snoring, aroused a vague feeling of uneasiness which would not be su |. Eight bells, mid- night, struck before he finally lost con- sciousness. His last waking thoughts were | centered in a strange fancy regarding Davy | and his dead parents. He found himself | wondering if they had been the cause of | his chum's grewsome dream, and whether, after all, it was not a note of warning from the other world. (To be continued). ses TREES OF THE CITY. Hend Gardener wn Makes Some Remarks About Them. “Washington is a garden of trees,” salt Superintendent George H. Brown of the | propagating gardens to & write> for The | Star. “We have here more varieties of | trees than are planted in any other city in the United States. The District of Colum- bia is a national arboretum, in which are set out trees and shrubs of every kind that | will grow in this climate. One may fairly say that ro tree that will thrive in this neighborhood has been omitted. “We have tried some trees which @id not turn out successfully. Notable in that cate. gory is the sequoia—the giant redwood of the Pacific coast. We have had specimens of the sequoia growing in the Smithsonian and Agricultural Department grounds, They all died. One of the best of them was planted in the garden at the British lega- tion, but it went the way of the rest. Im our own greenhouses we have a couple of dozen young sequoia trees. They are readi- ly propagated from seeds. Thousands of Evergreens. “We have more than 11,000 evergreens im Washington. They do not do so well here as they might. The native pines, you know, are small and scraggy. To suck plants the climate is not wholly sulted; the | Summers are too dry and hot. This is the northern limit of the magnolia grandifiora, which, at all events, does not thrive beyond this latitude. It is the same way with the liveoak and the silk tree. “An effort has been made to gather in Washington as many as possible of the most beautiful flowering trees in the world. Nowhere else wiil you find such an assem- blage of trees and shrubs which, at the season of blossoming, are transferred into great bouquets of lovely bicoms. This re- gion, of course, is the home of the = We have here a wonderful collection shrubs, many of them from the south, end not a few from Europe. The ‘fringe and yellowwood are from the south, the former from Virginia. Among the imported shrubs are the double-flowe-ing thorns. Trees d Shrabs. ‘What is the difference between a tree and a shrub, you ask? Well, a tree has one stem, whereas a shrub comes out of the ground with many stems. To put it differ- ently, low, bushy trees, with several stema, are shrubs. We have here many flowering @ f trees and shrubs from Japan. One of these is the ‘sophora,” which has long pea-shaped flowers. The Japanese make a specialty of dwarting trees; they do it by ctamping them for rooza. “One of our handsome trees is the ‘em- peror tree,” the imperial tree of Japan. It has beautiful blue flowers in panicles, that look somewhat like the gloxinia. They are very showy. The Chinese “kolreuteria’ like- wise has panicles of very showy fowers. Snowballs do well here. Some of them are native and others imported from Murope. One very handsome variety is from Japan. In some of the parks you will see weeping elms from England. A Wonderfal Collection. “Not one person in « thousand who visit the Smithson‘an or Agricultural Depart ment grounds takes any special notice of the trees there displayed. Yet they constitutt & wonderful collection, and in the depart ment park particularly they are beactifully arranged, the varieties being assorted in distinct clumps and groves. The main road leading up to the front door of the Depart- ment of Agriculture is bordered by two linet of gingko trees, which ure among the most remarkable trees in the world. It is said that they are the oldest trees now im ex- oe dating back to the coal-forming pert “The gingko trees are from Japan. Like most other things derived from that country they are queer. Though of the deciduous type, dropping their leaves iu the autumn, they bear some resemblance to pines im their structure. An ordinary deciduous leat has a midrib, from which branches ex while from the latter smailer ones shoot o! and interlace. The leaf of the gingko hag no such structure, but ts a mere fan of fibers. On this eccount the gingko is some- times called ube ‘maidenhair tree.’ ——-2-— A Good Advertisement. From the Detroit Free Press. The gentleman from Boston was stopping with a farmer, and a new guest arriving | he was much impressed by the conversa- tion of the Bostonian. Later, in talking with the landlord, he remarked: “Ry the way, that gentleman has an ex. tensive vocabulary, hasn't he?” The landlord was greatiy pleased. “Well,” he responded, * | seen it when he first come; | to speak of; he's only me two Weel ing with and he's had to jet his waistban’ out four times,”