Evening Star Newspaper, July 21, 1894, Page 13

RENCH JUSTICE “The Adventures of an American on a Spree. RESULTS OF 100 MUCH WHITE WINE A Suburban Police Station and a Paris Court. IT IS ALL VERY FRENCHY 2 eee @yecial Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, July 4, 1894. T is the tale of an American in Paris— another fellow-coun- tryman blind drunk in the gay capital; how he amused him- self, how he abused white wine and red rum from the Isle of Martinique, and then abused an agent of Police; how he was Jailed, released and shaken hands with Ir the morning; how fater on he was surpr sed to get a sum- mons from the solen.a Pal; de Justice, where he was tried and sentenced in five minutes; how he has three months" time to Bay a fine and costs which make a pretty ¢— =‘ Sorry to Part With Him. gam when added up, yet he is thought to fhave been got off easy; how he extends his thanks to all concerned, to the presiding e, the procureur de la republique, the | arse of the Seine and all his clerks, the commissaire, the officier de la Paix, the brigadier, the agent who arrested him and the proprietor of the cafe who sold him more white wine than he could carry. It was a sweet Sunday in mid-June. The eulprit, fleeing from the strange tints of the paintings of the future ‘n the salon of the hamps de Mars—which he was visiting for the improvement of his mind—walked swiftly to the near-by steamboat station of the Alma bridge and shipped for Billan- fourt. The little steamer danced upon the Wipples of the dirty little river Seine. It dead fish, on the bac disclosed don their swollen bel- e with many an irides- ng which, float- pathe ming whi t. ie aba turquois and pale coralline! z3 and rounds, what thin streaks iinet firm that this revere @s he b Gown at the | an from America t and poetic thoughts teamer rail and looked lead and rotting, she ie fis but more gloriously beautiful in their lors < In life, plea! of the Pari ebarm. of the Seine the dain friture comes, az In the moral — of Paris life the fairest blossoms loom!" So he went gathering blossoms @own at neourt. Beneath the little Steamer's brilliant colored awning 300 over- Sweating Parisians of the § xcur- m sort, accompanied by their wives and @ogs, were packed so close together that THE DECORATED O barrel. Then, afterward, por ge itis, and ss = : pretty. was also from | le of sey, speaking broken English. When the soldier left, the girls stayed and chatted. They had supper. And the girls sat sing- ing merry songs in the long twilight, till the head waiter came and stopped them. What else? All was indistinct. His mem- ory was blank. From 7 to 9 a.m. it was to walk around the cell and study on the walls all the pa- thetic sentences which poor chaps had left scribbled there. “Gaston du Pont du Jour. Adieux aux amis, mort aux vaches! Adieu there a w Proof Have You of Your Ident- ity? to my ?riends and death to cows (women).” ‘There was a bleeding heart pierced by a Gazger: “Henry de la Grenelle, Marie je taime!” Then the big key turned in the lock. Some Friendly Advice. Out In the sunlight he was walking by the side of two policemen to the commis- sary’s office for a hearing. The two agents went sauntering through the rich and pret- | ty suburban streets of Auteuil, where there | are villas back In gardens, chestnut trees in bloom and flowering shrubs and chatte: ing birds. The two policemen felt the tn. fluence of spring in the sweet morning’ air. They nudged each other like two gutlty school boys as they passed a window where @ pretty bonne was polishing the panes. “Gigot! Gigot!” Gigot Is French for leg of mutton. “Tell me,” sald the American,who thought it an auspicious moment, “what am I charged with?’ The youngest agent looked at him severe- ly: “You called the agent who arrested you an tmbeclie.”” “Is that all “And then you tried to spit on him through the bars of the cell door!” The prisoner blushed scarlet— Niet" he said. think it’s true,” the little agent went on in @ tone of mingled friendliness, apclo sy and schoolmaster-like repr: “Do you know that man is decorated with the rib- bon of the Legion of Hono-, un homme tout-a-fait serieux? He did not ch: but he might have done so.” “W got to do with it?” “Simply that not contradict him.” “No?” “No, be thank- ful for your good luck. The comm will let you off, he is a charmant garcon. You must stop smoking now, we ure close to the office.” In the office of the commis- saire there was a stout man with a stubby mustache and a _ close-cropped head of hair. He had the ribbon in his buttonhole. “C'est lui!" whispered the young police- man. The Amezican stepped up and said in a low tone: “Monsieur, you must know how I regret my behavior of last night. I wish to say that to you personally and not in your capacity of agent.” “Accepted,” said the decorated man with some import- ance. “As for the rest, unfortunately, you must see the commissatre.” A door’ then opened and the accuser stepped into the private office. The culprit sat alone before an inspector of police, an upper clerk of some import- ance. He was a little round-faced man, good natured, smiling. He nodded sympa: theticaliy, with a gesture which appeared to say “Fear nothing.” The two policemen kept on giggling and whispering about their eigot, gigot. Five minutes passed. The decorated officer came out and went his way without a word. The American was called into the private room and given a chair beside the secretary of the commis- saire, who sat behind a de: “M-m-m, your name is your father’s name, your mother’s name, &e., &c., &e. (Full details, lasting some five minutes). At 9 o'clock last night you were found in a public place in a state of mani- fest intoxication, &c., &c., &c., m-m-m-m, went peacefully with the agent, m-m-m-m, until placed in a cell at the poste, m-m-m-m (writing, copying, comparing). I suppose you want to go free?’ “Natural “What proof have you of your identity?’ “I have a dog at home that knows mé “Have you no letters or papers in your pockets? “I have them at home—” The Return to Jn “Then you had best wait at the police Poste. I will da telegram. If the re- hat’s a a THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1894—TWENTY PAGES. ceur!” “Bonjour. “Bonjour.” “Bonjour!” The American stood in the street, alone. The perfume of the lilacs in the villa gar- dens came to him upon the breeze; the white blooms from the chestnut trees fell on his hat and shoulders, and the sweetly plaintiv paptnes of @ merchant of goat's milk upon his reed soothed hig perturbed 'd heated brain. But as a touch fell on his joulder he started forward, fearfully, trembling like a rabbit. It was only the inspector of police again, who had slipped out to shake hands with him. “Good-bye, morstieur, good-bye!’ ‘Good-bye. ‘Good- bye. It has occurred to me—you are a for- eigner—you must be constantly receiving letters. Perhaps you have some foreign pestage stamps? Pardon the sans-gene of a collector “Why certainly, I have just what you want—the Columbian issues “Just so.’ “I will send you out a little package by the mail.” “I thank you, in- “But not at all. And now, good y ‘Good day “Good day! Two weeks elapsed and the American had quite forgotten all about Auteuil. He nat- urally thought the incident was closed. He thanked his concierge and iandiord both for giving a good account ef him when the police came with the telegram. And with that thanking and the sending cf the post- age stamps, he passed the subject. One morning he was sitting in his little parlor, chatting with a friend, when there was a knocking at the door. His landlord (fur- shed rooms) explained it was a gentleman m the prefecture,” he whisp2red dismal- A la_ bonheur! cuse me for a moment, Jim. It is my tailo: Again the Police. The police spy was engaged in looking up the landlord’s bock. Each citizen who lets out furnished rooms must keep a book. He said: “I occupy myself a great deal with ali foreigners in Paris. I am from the pre- fecture.” “What do you want “Show me your declaration d’ etranger!’ (Each foreigner who stays six months must make this detailed statement of his excuse for living. Price, francs 50—200,000 foreign- ers in Paris at 2 francs 5, equals [00,000 franes of revenue, quite worth collecting, annually.) Then there was copying, ques- tioning and writing, questions such us: I Suppose You Want to Go Free? “Have you ever served in the German army? Have you fulfilled your military duties in America? What is your income? Did you ever have more? What is your father’s income?” All this gave fruit for thought; but as another week passed on it was forgotten. There was another knocking ct the door one morning. The landlord handed in a summons—service of it being made upon the concierge, that {s sufficlent—you can- not dodge a summons in the gay French capital. “__ at the audience of the tribu judging in police corerctions! ——— to re- spond to and proceed on and fer the ends of a procedure from which it resuits that the above named is aceus 1 of (1) having outraged by words, acts and threats an agent of the public force in the exercise of his functions, (2) having been found’ in @ public place in a state of mantfe briety. Delit prevu par 1 art. | 1873, 224 du Code Penal, ete., ete. The time had come to see a friend. “You simpleton, there's nothing now to do but go to court or flee the countr: “Can't I let it go by default and “And get three months” must face the music. The Secretnry of the Commissaire. Port is favorable after a visit to your dom- fcile, you may go free. Sign this.” (A full con n, Which the prisoner signed ¢ | erly, without once reading it. I have s | asked y he did not read tt; he re- » sitting there beside that kind! secretary who had tho air of felt it would to read or best friend, He was no ked 1 it}. Then the insp Pclice mede out a telegram, which he to one of the agents to have sont f he be of ce poste. And then it was the str h the two agent lounging, ing into v garden for their tron igadier, and on th ard the telegr: opening and s' er of the commissaire, ph begin its clicking, ting.then there was y morning in New doors a calm as of a Sun¢ Englar After a time he was allowed to sit out in the reom with the policemen. ‘The briga. dier was go! sergeant of police was the desk, where he sat polishing the telegraphic instrument. It seemed like a boys’ school. Three officers sat at a table writing in their books—reai diaries, where they put down everything that happens. | | \ FFICE R EXPLAINS. eir odors mixed and intermingled with a Ming intricacy. The httle steamer dart- on from suburb to suburb, Passy, La Grenelle, Auteuil, Pont d’Auteuil and Bil- court, past all the riverside which Peter | betson remembers so affectingly. @hanged muc At the River Resort. Beneath the trees at Billancourt there are @ hundred leprous little restaurants and @rinking booths, whose bills of fare are inted in big letters on big boards. The It has ka and the tables are of rough green- | Inted wood, and there are shaky trellises @nd arbors, where dust-draggled, climbing yines hang their limp leaves. In front there fs the dusty road, and by its side the river, with a view. A straggling crowd goes erawling by—brave workingmen, in blouses, Yery little beurgeois, seml-rustie beaux @nd girls from rywhere, but no one chic. The smell of fried potatoes and fried fish is in the air. There ts a drowsy hum of ¢cnversation, interrupted ever and again by squeals from girls and full-grown wo- fren, very full-grown women, in the swings, cents a quarter of an hour. A penny rdeon. It was a peaceful 5 fest os friend sat down beside a Iter ttle of white wine. Next morning he awoke and saw fron bars fore him. The cell which he was occupy- as clean, but bare. : yellow overh blir » gas jet, then sat re r ‘as a vision of a lovely sunset b is tr Mt i t at ‘ame transtigured as the b here was e family from the whom he sat and drank present when he was arresic: No; they left at 6 o'clock, bec they to walk home for the children’s health. t : er, mother AA three polite as lon Wine. It was a whit having been kept some th hore in the distance was gurgling | in a red wine! | mney wrote painfully, squaring their shoul- | ders, screwing thelr mouths, slanting their | heads. Another officer comes in on his tip- | toes. The others look up and he winks at | them and makcs a face. He tiptoes over to | his peg, hangs up his saber belt and watch, | washes his hands and takes his copy-book. Seated beside the others he pulls cut a let- ter from his pocket, passes it, and each one reads {t furtively, with one eye on ihe sergeant. The owner of the letter licks his finger to arrange the curl of his mus- tache. Gigot, gigot! Always one thing, for we are France. Ten minutes pass to g of the clock and the pa out his tobacco The others stop. a_ciga ‘They smoke. One and the ger. Then he passes round a h beneath the table. Then the pe ¢ in, and the ¢ teleg k ticks on eternally. Where is the Liberty at Last. Ting-ting! The sergeant wa! Itt es ty minutes to receive the i | Enters the brigadier, a burly brate with never a smile upon his ugly face. ‘fhe ser- | geant crawls up to him with the ictegram. 's very favorable," he whispers. “Umph!” He hands the telegram to the young red- headed agent, jumps up joyfully, like @ pup terrier glad to be taken walking. He buckls on his belt. “Allons!” Again it | 1s the pleasant street, again the commis- fary's office, with the flag of the republic floating om above its doory | little nd-faced inspector, smoking black tobacco, with his vest unbuttoned. | read the telegram and smiled benignantl: feem to lke you very well dow ‘That is what it is to have a good ; again the “Walt, did eat this morning fered you a ro! but I refused 1t.” uu have anything to “Tt think I of- @ very nice roll?” “Yes, ‘The prisoner stood there, | Mingling his silver nervously, and thinking of a glass cf rum and wate* The inspector utation. I congratulate yo Now, do} ¥ go.” “Why, | much, I think I'll go at to friend Peartree. I'm always r tu the ere nal law firm of Coudert Brothe cupied with higher things th you i my = him th an is Internati keeping a pit have cx fe thou’ It’s ridiculo -up decorated them; = ght tor ¥ me and to the out rs, in e to with should by them trou much as they di t them?" “They kn I did not spi them, ‘ans don’t spit. I don't say that by way of virt but simply it is not an American habit, It} is not in our round of ex [I never save ant the enough ht I fo u did not wa man spit at a th hi j “You must not say that to the jude,” re plied the man of law. “tere,” handing | out a card, “this fs the name of a French advocate, a man I know. See him.” A French Lawyer's Office, “Antoine Seligman, avocat a la cour a’ arpel, 14 rue de Toqueville.” It was a street | of residences, high up in the handsome quarter of the avenue de Villiers. There was no sign. The concierge did not know when her lawyer would be in, She did not care. Trvo ladies waited In the hallway; a man with the decoration of agricultural mn was walking up and down impetuous- ly. When monsieur—or, rather, maitre— came in, he merely mentioned that the concierge was gloomy minded. He said she was a dreamer, and never tended to her business. The fdea that he ought to have an office boy had never dawned upon him. His office was two parlors. So are most all the other offices of the Parisian barristers. Seated in the ante-room, where champagne glasses figured on a sideboard, where a valuable modern painting of a half- rude girl was looking down on us, where yellow-covered numbers of the Revue de Paris lay scattered on the table with some stray works of Jules Lemaitre, and ne a law book on the premises, we made parisons. “France for the French!" Johnny, never daunted, “I should like to know what my old pop would say to thts. It_is a dandy lawyer's office! 5 He told his story to the advocate. shall I stay or skip?” “Oh, an officer of the court. As su Gigot, Gigot! conscientiously countenance a flight. Be- sides, we can appeal, you know, in case yeu get imprisonment.” The culprit thought he would postpone his flight. ‘What will I get?” >“A fine, I think.” “What can I get?” “You might get four months. It all Gepends upon the judge's state of soul. De easy. I will see you through. The trial is down for Wednesday next. Meet me outside the court room. I will have looked up the dosster, and I will see the judge and tell him that the case is moonshine. Pear- ree is a friend of mine, and Peartree is your friend's friend. I will say to the ices that we have mutual friends through whom I know you are a gentleman of good family and manners,” (Of all the writer's experience of French procedure, this idea s talking with the Judge—and jury, too—be- forehand, is the strangest to him. Day de his eniry the ing.” ok. “Ate noih- on ‘Thea he s™tlad, “Alies-rous-en, for- | after @ay the fudges are ccna page ed by people »rom they are set dowa lo try. It is permitted. The judge in France is rather @ correcting parent @ mere adminis- trator of the abstract law. All bureay- cracy is left bel Of course a French put upon the Picton and not afraid to know side truths.) The Court Room. The judge was pel ga “Saas between his two associates; -Was no jury. A rep- resentative of the procurator of the repub- lic sat in a pulpit af the rights He had no actual work to do; he:only sat and listened, looked at papers now and then, explained, agreed and answered. The cases all were little ones, and all were -written out in paper, in their dossiers. Trying is a quick job under such a regime. Out in the great public corridor we had passed hundreds of fine legal sprigs and serious old codgers Gigot, Gigot! taking out their caps from bandbores, waiting for their fine, silk gowns, and standing to be brushed down by a set of sympathetic servent girls. In the court 1com all was serious, although now and again the public would speak up, as at a play, when their emotions overcame them. Above the judge, directly overhead, behind the bench, in every court room, in all France, there is a painting in a gilded frame—our Savior on the cross. It is al most life size. Time and again the radi- cals and socialists have tried to take It down; the judges and the advocates—yes, and the people, too—have always cried: “Hands off!" A man from Switzerland was given six months for blacking a policeman's eye. The prisoner had very little chance to speak. The judge looked at the dossier, where all the facts about this Swiss’s mode of life, past habits, means of livelihood and those (if any) who depended on him for their living, were set down—and worked on that and on the testimony of the officer. A woman with a record of sixteen previous convictions for public begging was given two months. A big, red-headed man, who never deigned to make excuses, got eight months for quite disabling an officer with a big club. Another man was given two months in jail for next to nothing. (Allow the writer to state here, in his opinion, that the crimes of anarchists will increase rather than decrease or be decreased in the next year and in the years te come) The name of the American ts called. He makes a vague start up the aisle. 30 up that way!" an eager small boy whispers. “Come here! his lawyer beckons. “Name of a melor, hurry there!’ a fat old law. yer, red-faced as a new-born infant, chuckles, over his white frills. The guilty foreigner is g>t inside the bar, His clothes are newer and much cleaner than those of the mob—so he gets sympathy at once “Poor young man!” whimpers a dejected- looking lady, waiting in her turn, “Oh, let him suffer like the others!” hisses haired communistic-looking loafer. shut that big mouth of yours,” growls a policeman, Then all eyes fall on the Amert- can. He has become a iittle cause celebre— the youth speaks French so badly, and he is so awkward and asnamed. The dossier is read to him. -“M-m-m-m-m, you are given excellent references. Then why do you do these things?” All Take a Hand. “This thin, interrupts the advocate, is his first and only offense.” “M—m—m—m, it is reported that you have been drunk at other times, though not arrested. What do you say to that? monsieur le juge,” blurts our friend, “c'est comme les autres, on a dine, quelque temps, n'est ce The audience titters. ‘It “Vous savez, out of alcoholism.” The prisoner lawyer and the lawyer neds. ce n'est pas ca, monsieur le juge, nent chaque fois que je bois, je suis locks at his ivre. The audience squirms. The advocate looks troubled. e judge looks over h gold spectacles. “I speak French bad: nor American. : squeaks out @ street boy, s the judg er. give him n ust waked ssh mill three month cooes a fat lady,w with a loud snort but milk—the fir baek and slumbe with delight, ent come up.” of es up his micht ¢ the pictui He ra’ (He 1 figure, valued, looked on, nd—because a nchman—he feels goc euld lend the prisoner $. He swore soner had gone with h itely; had put him i nd sent him home; that the young man } ned up j} | in ten minutes at the same wine booth; "| that he had tak: m in ¢ e for his own good; the prisoner had gone with him politely; that only when he was put into a cell he kicked against the bars; his shoes were taken off and then he spat in rage, because he could not show his anger other- wise. The prisoner was simply drunk and irresponsible. Rut the Fine Was Heavy. The advocate then bounded to his feet. His argument was that the judge could see the prisoner was a man of family and post- tion In his own country; that he could prove it, if desired; that it an excep- tinal offense, an ident. That the oner denied nothing; that he had n:ade cuses. He said that foreigners are not habituated to drinking white wine that has been kept in red wine barrels and fortified with alcohol to keep the stuff from rotting; that the prisoner had been ill-advised in drinking of the mixture, which had been imposed on him by designing people to fur- ther their own ends- “Do you pretend that the proprietor of the drinking booth at Billancourt, where he was found?” exclaimed the Judge. Not at all—on the contrary—by others, with whom he was drinking—there were two young women—" “Ah, stand up, officer. Were there two your horor, there were two young hey say that you are subject to attacks | 1 per cent is made to him for E If he execeds that all e, he must 7 for the extra lo. paper, ink an bor represent does ‘net apply yet, for the . hardly adjusted, and hundr ve b spoiled in experi pt is it must be trac t perscn who handled it, vidual will be require! to p PRINTING STAMPS Account of the Process Now Going on at the Bureau. GOUMMING AND PERFORATING DEVICES The Saving Which the Change in the Contract Effects. |PREPARING THE INKS ——— ee Written for The Evening Star. AM THE FIRST newspaper man to whom has_ been granted the privilege of witnessing the processes by which Uncle Sam is begin- ning to print his own postage stamps at the bureau of en- graving and printing. The wheels have started, and before many days the ma- chines will be turn- ing out the parallelograms of red, blue and green paper at a rate to supply the Post Office Department with the required forty million sheets per annum. Each sheet, as furnished to the goverrment, will consist of 100 stamps. The printing is done on queer-looking presses, each of which pro- duces 1,600 stamps a minute, or about 100,000 an hour. Each press has an endless chain, that carries four plates, on which the designs of the stamps are engraved. On each plate 400 stamps are rej resented. The sheets printed from these pistes are intended to be cut into quarters eventuaily, in which shape they will be sold by the Post Office Department. Each plate is carried by the endless chain first under an Ink roiler, from which it re- ceives a coating of ink of the proper color. Then it passes beneath a pad of canvas, which oscillates so as to rub the ink in. Next it pauses for a moment under the hands of a man who polishes the plate. Finally, a sheet of white paper is laid upon the plate, both pass under a roller, and the shect comes out on the other side 400 printed postage stamps. The plates revolve in a circle, as it were—more accurately speuking, they move around the four sides of a square in a horizontal plane. While one is being inked another is being rubbed by the canvas, another is being polished, and the fourth ts passing under the print- ing roller. The circult takes about a min- ute, during which four sheets of 400 stamps each are printed. Hand Press Work. The most importent part of the work, re- quiring the greatest skill, is the polishing. It is done with the bare hands, no other method being equally efficient. The object is to leave exactly enough ink for a good impression, and no more. One girl lays the white paper sheets upon the plates, while another young woman removes them as fast as they are printed and stacks them up in a pile. This process gives the results of hand press work. Half a dozen prestes working together, each turning out 100,000 stamps an hour, can produce a good many millions in a 4: Three hands are required for each press—the printer, who does the polishing, and two girls. The printer must account for every sheet of blank paper that he receives. The sheets are counted in the wetting division before they are delivered *o him. After they are | printed they are counted before they are | sent to the examining division, where they ed again. Spoiled sheets are counted as care! perfe ot ones, because they repre: If loxt or stolen, they could | each sheet ay rrinter who turned it out. fal mari An all for th amp: ented. le cannot repre 1 ch last handled tt Icophole is left for the After being straw boards make them lie flat us they are coun nore easily, and can be made up into si er bundles, Novel Gumming Machine. After undergoing this proc | counted once more and are se to be gummed and perforated. | purposes the bureau of engraving has pur- | chased entirely new machinery, and the | means employed are more than ordinari | interesting. The method of gumming, particular, is a novelty, bs ent from that utilized itherto work. It is much more rapid and efficient, and before long will doubtless supersede the old plan, which is even now applied to the gumming of cigarette stamps for the inter- nal revenue. The paste is applied to the cigarette stamp by hand with brushes. As fast as they are gummed they are laid | sheet by sheet on slatted frames, which aro | piled in stacks.» The stacks are wheeled on trucks Into a room where they are placed in ficnt of electric fans, so that the cool air may dry them. Hot air would accomplish the purpose more quickly, but it would be hard on the workwomen. For this reason the slower process is adopted. The new method, to be upplied to the postage stamps, will be an immense Improvement in every way. a The machines for this purpose have just been set up. There are two of them, exact- ly allke, and one will do for description. Imagine a wooden box nearly sixty feet long, four feet high and three feet wide. From end to end runs what might be taken for the skeleton of a trough. This skele- ton projects from the box for a few feet at elther extremity. The pox fs traversed by two endless chains, running side by side, two feet apart. Into one end the rheets of are in ing wholly differ- | but no complaint was made of | printed stamps are fed one by one. As it . is fed into the machine, each saect passes “Ah, two young women,” mused the | under a roler like the roller of a printing judge. press, to which a gum made of dextrine “And young and beautiful,” sighed the | ts slowly supplied. The sheet takes up a precureur. coat of this mucilage on its lower side and “From the Island of Jersey,” added the | ts carried on by the endless chain through advocate. the long box. The box 1s a hot-air box, the women,” whined the sad- ly. “Il y a des sales types et beau- coup par la, a Rillancourt.” “He parted on the best of terms with the police, your honor,” sald the advocate, “he is a young man ard a stranger, seeing many men and many cities, He should rot be judged as if he were a Frenchman, one of us. The judge must have thought so, because he gave a heavier fine than any Frenchman has received for any such offense for fifty years—105 franes and cos France for the French, TERLING HEILIG, How to Manage Your Wife. From Lippincott's Magazine. In fact, if Edward could only understand which of Catherine's phases may exist to- gether, and which may rot, and how tran- sition from one to another may take her from the equator to the poles, he would ceese to question her variabilities and would accept them resignedly as part of the gen- eral unfitness of things—in the same way as he takes a blizzard that Probs. has said was inevitable and which he knows will be of no use to anybody. They are his own beloved wife's peculiarities, and as such he will take them, as they take the rain in and, which, as “a custom of the country,” is almcst entitled to respect, being quite’ English. If he learns these things before marriage he can be forewarned as to how far his love must annihilate or divide his own in- dividuality or egoism if he wishes to be a domestic success—unless, indeed, he is about to wed one Intellectual enough to criticise her own varlabilities, and still Pessessing that warmth of nature which elone will drive her ta eamcaw ‘hem, being heated by steam pipes. At the other end of it the sheets are delivered at the rate of eighteen a minute. Just one minute is required for a sheet to pass through the box and it is delivered perfectly dry. Again They Are Counted. The gummed sheets thus delivered are passed over to a long table, where girls Pick them up in pairs, and, placing the gummed sides together, put them between layers of straw-boards. Arranged iu this way, they are placed under a steam press to flatten them, the muctilage having caused them to curl somewhat. On coming out of the press they are counted again, and now they go to the perforating machines that make the pinholes by which it is rendered easy to tear the stamps apart. The perforating machine fs an arrange- ment of ttle wheels revolving parailel to each other and just far enough epart to make the perforations as one sees them in a sheet of finished stamps fresh bought at the post office. After the perforations hav been made across the sheet one way by one machine, the sheet must pass through a second machine for the cross perforations. In the middie of each machine Is a krife which cuts the sheet in two, so that the sheet of 400 comes out of machine No. 1 in two sheets of 200 each, and these are divided into four sheets of 100 each by the second perforating machine. It fs an old, though not Well authenticated story that, when the British goverament wished to discover a way to tear stamps rt readily, it offered $50,000 for an ac- céptable suggestion. A poverty-stricken but iInggnioug Englishman proffered the notion of perforating thé stamp sheets and received the fortune. The stamps are now done, spd only remain to be gone over, in- . | by ftself. Lace, fi in such | + counted and Of 100. bhects ‘before beingt sent ont ech of 100 sheets holds 10,000 stamps, But stay! are one or two more preliminaries yet. After receiving the per- forations the sheets of 100 are put under a to remove the “burrs” around the ttle holea,.otherwiee these would greatly increase the thickness of a Then am are counted and-aro in steel- vaults, from which are drawn as the Post Office Department may want them. The bureau of engraving has not yet begun to furnish stamps to the govern- ment, but it is all ready to do so. In re- Sponse to orders received from the Post OMce Department it will put the stamps up in packages, address them to , ostmas- ters who require them, and deliver them at the post office in Washington for mailing. The Inks Used. The Post Office Department now has an agency at the bureau of engraving. When @ postmaster wants stamps he makes oit @ requisition upon the department. The latter will communicate with its agent in the bureau, who will draw upon the bureau every day for as many stamps as he re- quires to fill the orders thus transmitted to him. All this business used to be done in New York city, where the stamp agent received the stamps from the American Bank Note Company in bulk, his business being to put them up in packages and send them off by mail. ‘The inks used for print- ing the stamps are manufactured at the bureau and engraving. The materials are bought in the shape of dry colors and lin- seed ofl. The colors come in the shane of powders. The only stamps turned out thus far are the 2-cent red and the 1-cent blue. For the former carmine is employel.and for the latter ultramarine. Both colors are “toned” by the admixture of other ingred. fents—the carmine with paris white a: white lead. Pure carmine would be very costly. Ultramarine is not very expensive, but it 1s too “strong,” in the printers’ phrase— that is to say, too dark. It used to be the costliest of colors, being made from the precious lapis lazuli. But in recent years chemists, having analyzed the lapis lazull, have produced in the laboratory a suc- cessful imitation of the color-stuff. For making the ink, the color powder is com- bined with linseed oil, and ground between roliers. Each printer receives every morn- ing his allowance of ink, and sharp account is kept of every bit used. Uncle Sam will Save about $50,000 a year by printing his own postage stamps. Congress has given to the bureau of engraving $163,000 for the purpose for the fiscal year beginning July 1. Out of this appropriation some machinery must be bought. The expense used to be $208,000 per annum. Of course, the govern- ment had nearly all the required plant ready at hand. About fifty new people have had to be engaged to do the extra work. The plates used by the American Bank Note Company for printing the stamps were the property of the govern- ment. The Post Office Department has made re- cently five hundred sets of fac-simile stamps for distribution among members of Con- gress and hich officials. Each set includes specimens of all of the issues from the earl- jest to the latest. They are printed on thin cardboard, being intended for curiosities and not for the payment of postage. ee AN ARTIST'S MODEL. e Some Woes of the Women W for Women. From the New York World. Art life, from the model's point of view, has very little poetry tn it. The model who tells this story ts a pretty girl-widow. She has classic beauty, superior intelligence, the charm of refinemént and pride of ancestry, which makes the game hard to win when fortune deals a bad hand. “Some girls marzy for love, and some for living. I married-for beth, and lost all. My husband died. I had my baby and moth- er to’support, and,Ifke the average southern girl, had only. been taught to be nice. First I tried to sing for my supper. I got in a church choir and made a few friends, but I couldn't make any money. One day, as a fs I carried a dinner gown to a studio. My friend was having her portrait painted. .When I et the artist he asked if I could spare the time to pose in the dress for hira. That was the besinaing of my ‘art werk.’ Being slight and datntily built, I was found | te be available for all dr: ¥ posing, ex- cept the her I ing is an art in and trans- iificult weeks on @ parent draperies ne artists spend inted in a da Unkindnress of Women, “One artist sent me to another, and be- ing frocks, wedding robe: tecture | w was. d to one ano ass Is in art; and the a in the y can and do give the of their own sex ts, at sare by ballot; in the mplest are fi iably t in charging ft to cult the post better the womer been my experi the Art Stud ague. The pay very poor. It averages $10 a week Tor six days of four hours exch, or 83 1-3 cents an | hour. The pe five minutes | | long, with fi between. The | omen, in t the model rix for fifteen seem to like {t. c life Requests d poses are refused. class arranges th pery. In this delicate operation stabs may be dealt that wound deeper than steel and that bleed inside. I have come out of ‘a xing” by the monitor feeling as though I had been skinned. Personal Rather Than Physical. “I happen to have a perfect figure, other- T wise, my presence would be intolerable. have the Greek dimensions—height, 5 6; bust, 34; hip, 84; waist, 22 cep, 9; weight, 120 pounds. Instead of these lines getting me consideration, they scem to provoke antagonism. Tulking Is prohibited in class, but I have bebn torn to pieces by critical eyes and glances more scathing than | words could cbserve. Not a@ blemish es- capes the women. A model as thick-skin- ned and obtuse as a dog would shrink from this sort of torture. What makes it ail so crucial ts its invention. There ts no trace of it in the day or night classes of the men. | “Models at the league are sllowei en In- crease of 25 per cent if there are no com- plaints, A Venus could not pose for a class of women and escape fault-finding. Getting | out of position, the eppearance of apathy | or laziness, tardiness, back talk and tmper- tinence are the commonest causes of com- plant. Men will strain a point to give the nicdel the benefit of the premium, and their sisters will delight tn Its loss. I ave posed for considerable architectural 4nd interlor decoration. It is hard work, but the pay fs fair, averaging $15 a week; the treatment is always considerate and cfien kind. I may suy without being accused of vanity that such success as I have had 1s Aue to pe sonal rather than physical charm. I have repose, refinement and an artistic te | ment. Better models from an anatomical standpoint lack these essentiai elements. I | have been portrayed in marble, stone and platter. My face and ficure are on the facade of several public buildings, in Greek form. I represent a few ang-ls in church memcrials and I contributed to the decora- tion of one of the Astor bali rooms, For the rest of the month I shall be at a coun- try house, posing for relief work in a mil- Honaize’s dining room, ball room and hall. That will end my art career. I shall see What opportunity the medical profession will give me to eorn a living as @ trained nurse. And as long as I live there will be sympathy in my heart for the women who pose for the women who paint.” ——— see A Kissable Compliment. From Truth. Jack—“I am coming to the conclusion it I must be something of an idiot.” May—“Dear me! Why?” Jack—“I have noticed that the most iGletic fellow$ woo and win the loveliest Ee and here I om aft joveliest girl in the worl May—"Oh, Jacki” (icstatic silenan) winning the | —th | herb salads, | with a French dressing—which should in- TABLE DECORATIO NS The Use and Misuse of Flowers at THE ABOMINATION OF RIBBOKS Some Appetizing Salads for Sum mer Use Suggested. —-- — BEAUTY OF SIMPLICITY Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. N= ONLY Is THE love of flowers great- ly on the increase everywhere, but,what 1s not #0 commend- able, innovations in color harmonies and surprises in table millinery are passing into the category of execrable taste. De- spite the wave of re- form that, in this re- spect,|s sweeping over fashionable hostesses, at a dinner given recentiy by a nouvelle riche—surely, no colonial dame would 60 put to shame the elegant simplicity of her ancestors—the table decorations were not on the reformed order. A low silver bowl in the center was filled with pale purple pansies, on their own roots, as if grow- ing; rising lightly above these were a few small frouds of asparagus fern and a small Mlac-tinted orchid, whose blossoms gtew singly along an arching stern. That, in itsel very charming, but it was vulgarized by broad lengths of Mlac satin ribbon, which, extending from the bowl, meandered to the corners of the table, caught here and there with flowers, and ending in large bows crossed by sprays of orchids and pansies. Moreover, the ca- terer was in league with the florist, and all the viands that could possibly be tied had bands and bows to match those on the table. It is needless to mention that seme of those culinary sashes were in a very Sorry condition after being forked about the plate in the process of releasing the food. The Ribbon Craze. ‘The latest fussy ribbon effort, which, let us hope, is an expiring gasp, was seen on @ dinner table arranged with @ trellis of na- tural green foliage, placed flat upon the cloth, having an elevated center part, aiso arranged in a diamond-shaped pattern. The color idea was @ montrosity in blue and &reen, carried out in this floral decoration by tying the foliage trellis, at frequent in- tervals, with knots of blue baby ribbon! Ex- cept to tie the handle of a basket, a ribbon bow on the dining table is an incongruity in taste—it ts more offensive etill, it is an accentuated impertinence in taste. The hostess that values her floral decora- tions in proportion to the money they cost her may retrain from offending refinement and yet spend 4 little fortune in a ‘trop- ical” table. This is an unique arrange- ment of unprecedented height, sloping down from the middie to the two ends of the table, the design carried out entirely in foliage of different kinds, but the whole ef- fect 6o delicately transparent that it seems @ fairy-like screen, which serves, not to conceal, but to lend enchantment to one’s table vis-a-v.s. . ‘The hostess without superfious money te fing to the winds or with @ taste too sensl- live to convert her dinner table into @ ribbon counter and magnified horticultural display will be quite satisfied with the grace of a bowl of ember Venetian glass rounded with marigolds of lovely deep mi hogany color, or a silver basket filled with waving “daybreak” carnations, or a slender crystal vase from which the stately iris rears its yellow biosscms, or the brilliant poppy may ve utilized, its Vivid-searlet per- fectly set off by the snowy damask. Floral Salads. It has become an acceyited ‘fatth even In the most modest households, .that.our food d. be made as attractive to the sight to the palate. This @oe8 not Mem that ance should quiweish tasie; that should give way to fanatical ta craze for cdlor chem ea mania for abne excess; in our sau n a ing conten or pihK, Which are at least colors, we should smother ¢ botled fowl in pale mauve sauce and @ecorate the lobster with blue mayonnaise. T ese baraque harmonies are not poisonous they are re- jook =fo—but isseur. ¢ our own salads @ r volt However, we feature of beat © conne s well as needful put trensgressing l taste, The summer salad, served with the French dressing so dear to the contl- 1 is refreshing at any and on very fashionable tables the st © soup is now replaced with a whet of cold boiled asparagus. The pale stalks should He in a block of fce, but the dressing s\ died separately, ving the asparagus ia the lurch, sans dressing. Onion Not Appreciated. For a salad to accompany the fish, noth- ing is more appetizing than chopped onions covered with shredded geranium leaves, a combination distinctly and deliciously French. Really, the onion ts not fully ap- preciated out of France. Centuries ago, when it was introduced into England from India, {t was brought through Egypt and there made an object of religious worship, as it is, in France, an object of culinary Worship. Still, it must be admitted that as a cooking Ingredient {t should usually be suspected rather than manifest. For roast lamb, a substitute for the hack. neyed mint sauce Is a salad of cold boiled green peas, smothered in mince’ mint. Vegetebies interded for a salad will be sad affairs if they are not well cooked and throughly drained. All these, as well ag are most refreshing served variably have an intimation of onion—al- though they are as delicious, only heavier, with mayonnaise. Later in’ the dinner a rasturtium salad, of the pods, leaves and blossoms, is as palatable as it is beautiful, and a primrose salad ts absolutely Olym- pian. A charming pleco de resisiance for a sum mer cold luncheon ts # botled fish, lying in @ deep platter, curled on a bed of ruffled lettuce, surrounded by a wreath of mari- gold, in its mouth a bunch of orange-color hasturtiums, and blanketed with a velvety rrayonnaise. All that would be needed to aplete the feast would be guests vo ap-