Evening Star Newspaper, November 3, 1894, Page 18

18 PLANISPHERE FOR NOVEMBER. THIS CHART SHOWS THE PRINCIPAL STARS NOW VISIBLE AT 9 P.M ENCE IS THE HORIZON; ITS CENTER, THE ZENITH. HOLD If OVERHEAD. -M. ITS CIRCUMF TO COMPARE WITH THE HEAVENS, NOVEMBER SKIES The Brilliant Dinplay ‘Whioh is Found in the Starry Vault. AN OPERA GLASS ISA USEFUL AID +. The Great Constellations and How to Observe Them. coun: F A STREAM OF METEORS poe Bike ectaan aa Written for The Evening Star. ASSIOREIA HAS now reached her most commanding position, being now seated—at Y o'clock — directly above the pole star. For the first time since we have been observing this fabled queen of the east she sits in her chair up- right and with be- coming dignity. Her jewelry of stars now sparkles with its pur- est luster, and, as a constellation, she has no rival visible tonight. Behind Cassiopeia stands her rather in- significant consort, Cepheus. Below Ce- pheus lies the Dragon, his head curved downward, and his flaming eyes fixed upon the horizon. Suspended, head downward, from the pole star is the Little Bear (Lit- tle Dipper). On the horizon and partly be- low it is the monster Ursa Major, repre- sented by the Great Dipper, now in its lowest position, in the exact north. Facing the west, we have directly in front of us the Eagle, marked by the first- magnitude star Altair, now at about one- fourth of the distance from the horizon to the zenith. Above the Eagle is the spazk- ling ttle cluster of small stars which form the Dolphin, better known, perhaps, as Job's Coffin. To the right of the Dol- phin and at a rather greater altitude is the Swan (Cygnus), known also as the Northern Cross. Midway between the Swan and the horizon, in the northwest, is the Lyre of Orpheus, notable, among other things, for containing one of the bright- est, if not the brightest, of the northern stars—Vega or Alpha Lyrae. To the left of Vega is a pair of stars of the third magnitude—Beta and Gamma Lyrae—ranging nearly in line with the head of the Swan. Two straight lines drawn from these stars to Vega and con- tinued beyond to a distance about twice as reat as the distance of the stars from Vega strike the two “eyes” of the Dragon. The figure thus formed, consisting of two similar triangles united by their apices at Vega. is a striking one,when once observed, and serves as a ready means of identifying both Vega and the Dragon's eyes. The most notable object toward the south is the lone star Fomalhaut, a star of the first magnitude, in the Southern Fish. In the southwest Sagittarius has disap- peares below the horizon. Capricorn is fol- jowing him and will soon set. Aquarius, the Waterman, who comes next, as we tra the zcdiac eastward, 1s already a long way past the meridian. ‘The southeastern quar- r of the heavens 1s almost wholly occu- pied by the monster constellation Cetus, the Yhale. Just south of the zenith, ‘and nearly overhead, is the great Square of Pe- gasus. The East and Northeast. The most interesting portion of the heavens Is its eastern quarter. Here may now be seen the planet Mars, far outshin- ing with its ruddy splendor a star of the first magnitude. Some ten degrees to the left of Mars is the pair of second-magni- tude stars which mark the head of Aries, the Ram. Above the Ram is Andromeda; below and a little to the left are the Pleiades. Directly beneath the Pleiades is Aldebaran, the “Bull's Eye,” a reddish star of the first magnitude, the principal star in Taurus. The V-shaped cluster of the Hyades, close beside Aldebaran, ren- ders It always easy to identify. Still lower and in the exact east Orion is just rising, reminding us that the evening skies will foon assume thelr winter aspect. betel- jeuse and Rigel and the three stars w: form the belt of Orion—the “Three Kings” — are already above the horizon at 9 o'clock. In the northeast, at an altitude some- what greater than that of Aldebaran, ts Capella, the Goat, the principal star in Auriga, the Charioteer, and one of the two rivals of Vega in brilliancy, the other being Arcturus, now below the horizon. Above Auriga and at the feet of Andromeda stands Perseus, brandishing his sword and swinging tn his left hand the still more terrible Gorgon's Head. ‘This quarter of the heavens abounds in objects suitable for a small telescope, and even an opera glass, or, better, a good “spy glass,” will add very much io the de- Nght with which one pursues these ele- mentary studies of the heavens. No one who has any taste for astron rest content, in these days, ade with the naked eye, nor be sat- isfied with merely knowing the names of the constellations and of the principal stars. Let_us turn our opera glass first upon the Pleiades. The naked eye, unless ex- ceptionally keen, sees but six stars in this Uttle cluster, but the glass will easily bring Into view twenty or thirty other stars, be- eides increasing the brilllancy of those be- fore seen. One who beholds the beautiful vision for the first time will hardly sup- ress an exclamation of admiration, ond ye will wonder that he never thought to try the experiment before. Now let us lower the glass a little and look at the Hyades. We shall find the ruddy splendor of Aldebaran intensified. The star be- comes almost the rival of Mars, and the lit- tle “pigs’’—Suculae, the Sucklings, was one of the Roman names of this cluster—may be unted by the dozen. This cluster is, per- ps, a finer opera glass object than even the Pleiades. Examine next the Fly, just above the Pleiades, and the central portion—the Y- shaped figure—of Perseus, and survey Cas- siopela, in search of those of her gems which have escaped detection with the un- aided eye. Some Brilliant Stars. The constellation Pisces is another ¢plen- did opera glass field. The Dolphin, tn the west, should also be exqmined; and while the observer has his gla?s in his hand let him not fail to sweep with it the Swan. and form some faint idea of how this sce- tion of the heavens, one of the richest por- tions of the Milky Way, appears when ex- amined through a large telescope. Un- fortunately the mcon 1s now shining at 9 o'clock; but it will set in an hour or so, and the eastern constellations will then be in a still better position for observing. About midway between Cassiopeia and the bright star in Perseus may be segu a little fleck of nebulous light, perhaps as large as the Plelades, which even an opera glass will show to be a star cluster. It is the famous cluster in the handle cf the sword of Perseus. Unfortunately for us a telescope of ccnsiderable power is required to reveal it in its full glory. When thus seen. it is, undeniably, the finest object of its class in the heavens. The cluster is a double one, there being in it two points about which its stars are particularly con- centrated The nebuia in Andromeda also can only be seen well through a large telescope; but with even an opera glass it can be seen to be something quite different from an crdinary star, and, in fact, it was discover- ed before the invention of the telescope. It Hes near the uppermost of the threé stars which form the belt of Andromeda. At o'clock tomorrow night it will be very nearly in the zenith. Gamma Andromedae —the lowermost (now) of the three brighter stars in the constellation—is a splendid col- cred double* star. It has but one equal, Beta Cygni, in the head of the Swan. Eta Cassiopeiae—the small star between the two which form the second downward stroke of the “W"—is also a fairly easy double. Its components are white and purple. Another easily found double st: we might examine—this region full of them—is the star Gamma Arietis, in the left hern of the Ram. Although not colored, both components being white and of nearly equal brightness, it Is a very pretty object, and ts sufficiently wide to be separated with a small telescope. Lambda Arietis—the small star seen just above a line joining the two bright stars in the head of the Ram—is still wider, but its components are smaller. The larger one is white; :the-smaller has a violet or bluish tint, Display of Meteors. _ On the nights of the 13th and 14th of this month we may expect the usual display of “Leonids,” as these November meteors arc now commonly called. Outliers along this meteor stream may be encountered two or three evenings earlier than this, and they will continue to flash cut occastorally as late as the 17th, but the main display 1s due on the dates named. A nearly fulf moon will, however, interfere ccricusly with the seeing of these interesting cbjects, ex- cept the more brilliant of them. The “ra- diant” of this system—-the point from which they all appear to proceed, ir whatever part of the heavens they may be seen—is in the constellation Leo, waich now rises about midnight. Meteors belonging to the Leonid group, seen before that hour, will move in tracks which, traced backward, will lead to a point below. the horizon in the east. . On the 28th of the month we shall puss through enother “shcal” of meteors, which is quite as interesting, although not so rich in fine specimens as the Lecnids, viz. the Andromedes, the radiant of which, as the naine Ir.dicates, is in the constellation An- dromeda. These metecrs are thought to be the fragmentary remains of Biela’s comet, which has not been seen since 1852. Biela’s comet had a period of six and a half years. Its orbit was nearly, if not quite, identical with this meteor stream. Annvally, when the earth crosses it, in the latter part of November, meteors are encountered in greater or less numbers, and in those years when the lost comet is due they are ex- ceptionally numerous. The last “shower” of Ardromedes occurred in 1892; the next may be expected in 1800. On the 28th An- dromeda will be overhead at about 8 p.m., so that meteors belonging to this system will appear to fall from a point near the zenith. ——-- 00 Remarkable Literary Workshops. From Chambers’ Journal. Genius has frequently had remarkable workshops. Robert Burns once went gal- loping over a remote Scottish moor. His horse cn this occasion was not much trou- bled with the guidance of the rider. Burns was busy, brooding over a glorious theme. His lyrical powers touched one of their highest points. The result of this journey was the impassioned national lyric, “Scots, Wha Hae wi’ W 7 framed his “Logic” a: home to his office afd back again. Sir Mat- thew Hale composed his ‘‘Contemplations” as he rede on horseback about country on his circuit journeys. While traveling in the same fashion on his numerous and pro- longed preaching tours, John Wesley con- trived to accomplish a vast quantity of lit- erary work. Byron composed the larger portion of the “Corsair” in a London thor- oughfare, as he walked up and down Albe- marie street, between Grafton street and Piccadilly; and states himself that he com- posed “Lara,” not in the study, but at the toilet table. “The Revolt of Islam” took form in Shelley's brain as the poet ap- parently frittered away summer hours ly- ing in a boat on the bosom of the Thames at Marlow. e+ —___ English as She is Spoke. From the London Telegraph. A correspondent in Battersea who has made a collection of the gems of oratory used by some of the vestrymen in his neigh- borhood, writes: “Most parishes can boast of supplying some fine specimens of ‘Eng- lish as she is spoke’ by vestrymen, but in this respect Battersea can ‘take the cake.’ In a recent discussion on sanitary matters a vestryman talked about ‘tubular diseases’ and ‘tripod fever,’ and he wanted ‘a crema- torla’ in every parish. Another member would not accept a statement upon the ‘hip- set dixter’ of the chairman. At this same vestry a member declared the chairm: ought to be ‘like Potiphar’s wife, above picion.” When it was proposed to give a deserving official ‘an honorarium’ a member wanted to know whether it would not be an inducement to the official to waste his time. ‘If he attends to his duty he won't have much time to play the honorarium.’ ” —$$$-oo—__—— Pair of Old Shoos, A From Life. RECEIVING THE NEWS How the President and His Friends Receive the Election Returns. THE WHITE HOUSE SPECIAL WIRE Dots and Dashes Which Have Brought Joy and Sorrow. ——— “TOUCH WITH THE WORLD N TUESDAY NIGHT next President Cleve- land will receive at the Executive Man- sion the returns from the state elections. He will read in brief bulletins the story of the democratic party's victory or defeat in the con- gressional districts. Almost before the re- suit is known at the headquarters of the two parties—long before it has been made public—he will know whether he ts to write messages of congratulation or of condolence to the political friends for whose success he is hoping. The telegraph room at the White House is the busiest place in Washington on elec- tion night. There are the usual bulletin boards on the streets, with shifting crowds watching the news as it is posted. But in the President's house the little group watching the returns as they come in will be unchanging until the result of the elec- tion ts known—at least, the result in the chief places where the President's interest lies. And while the crowds elsewhere will rely on one source of information for ma- terial out of which to coin enthusiasm, every source of information will be at the immediate command of the President and his friends, Abraham Lincoln got the news of his re- election at the War Department. In his day the government's only special wire ran into army headquarters. The department telegraph service and the wire to the White House date from a compiratively recent time. Gen. Grant, when he was President, had a special wire run into the Executive | Mansion, and read the election news in his office. But the establishment of a tel- egraph office in the President's house took place in the time of Mr. Hayes. Early in March, 1877, the first permanent wire was run from the Western Union telegraph of- fice to the Executive Mansion. From that day to this the department of telegraph information, as it might be called, has been a feature of the President's office. ‘The President in Communication With the World. ‘The telegraph office is not merely a means of bringing within \easy reach of the Prest- dent the news of elections or nominating conventions, These could be had very easily by means of a temporary wire such as President Grant used. The value of the special wire at the White House ts in the means it affords the President of commun- {cating rapidly with any part of the United States in a case of great emergency re- quiring his official attention while he ts in Washington. Or, if he is any other part of the United States, and desires to be put in communication with his people at the White House, he can talk with them on a few minutes’ notice as freely as though they were open to telephone communication. These facilities have proved their great value in many emergencies. The wire had hardly been put in the White House before the great strike riots of 1877 created a use for it, and during the whole of that tem- pestuous period, when the life of the re- public was threatened, the President and his advisers at Washington were in com- munication constantly with the governors of states, with the commanders of the government troops which had been sent to the assistance of state authorities, and with all other persons in authority with whom it was necessary for the President to talk at long range. For a time during these strikes there was a cabinet meeting every day, and the bulletins from Pittsburg and other cities where there was danger were brought to the cabinet meeting, where the President read them aloud to his advisers. The telegraph company gave these mes- sages right of way. In fact, in any great emergency the President has a special wire to any point which he wishes to reach. All commercial business gives way to that of the nation. When President Garfield died at Elberon the government took possession of the telegraph wires. That is not neces- sary when the President of the United States wants to attend to any urgent busi- ness for the government. All that he has to do is tc express a wish to use the wires, and they are at his service to the exclusion of business and personal messages. In the sime way railroad schedules seldom cause the President any inconvenience. When President Garfield lay in the White House dying the ~ Pennsylvania railroad kept special trains ready, with steam up, at Philadelphia and New York to bring to his ald on a@ minute's notice the celebrated specialists who were called in consultation from time to time by his physicians. One night, when he was supposed to be dying, @ message went to Dr. Agnew in Philadel- phia and Dr. Hamilton in New York, and at 4 o'clock the next morning a special train bearing Dr. Agnew drew into the Pennsyl- vania station here, and two hours later Dr. Hamilton arrived from New York. When Garfield Was Nominated. The first convention returns received at the White House over the government wire came during the convention which nom!- nated Garfield. The night before the noral- nation was made President Hayes was in the telegraph room with Mr. Montgomery, who has charge of the telegraph service, until a very late hour. It was after mid- night when he stopped reading the buile- tins and went to . His family was with him that night. The next day was a cabinet day, and all the members of the cabinet were present when the news of Garfield’s nomination was received. It came at 1:80, and the time was marked on the bulletin, which Carl Schurz read to the little group in the telegraph room before the operator had formed the last letter of the message. ‘1:30, Garfield nominated,” it said. There was a buzz of comment from the President's friends. The President re- turned to his office, and a little later sent in to the telegraph room an autograph mes- sage of congratulation to Mr. Garfield. Mr. Hayes received the news of Garfield's elec- tion in the telegraph room. Webb: Hayes, who acted as his father’s private secretary, handled the bulletins for him, and later brought them to him in his library. The next important occasion when the govern- ment wire was called into use was when President Garfield was lying near death in the White House. There was no clerical work done in the President's office during that sorrowful time. Business in all the government bureaus was paralyzed, and the paralysis was most complete in the White House. All the interest centered in the telegraph office, and the operator was kept busy receiving and sending messages. When the famous specialists were not in Washington they were always within quick telegraph call. All the bulletins about the President's condition went out officially over the President's wire. The most im- portant of these were the bulletins sent by Mr. Blaine over his own signature. The country learned to rely on these for its knowledge of the President's condition. Every night at 10 or 11 o'clock Mr. Blaine came to the telegraph room and wrote the bulletin for the day on a piece of the State Department's official blue paper. At the bottom he wrote the name “Blaine” in bold firm letters. After he had written the bulletin he would hand it to the opera- tor and have it read aloud to him to sure him that it was going out correctly. When Arthur Was President. There was an intense interest in the pro- ceedings of the Chicago convention which nominated Mr. Blaine for the presidency, and no one had a livelier interest in it than Mr. Arthur, for he was a candidate against Mr. Blaine for the nomination. The wire which runs into the White House was con- nected with a direct wire running to the gonvention hall, and the action of the con- vention was known in the White House al- most as soon as it occurred. Mr. Arthur THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1894-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. was in communicatfon wfth his lieutenants at Chicago, too, and heftalked with them over the White House Wire. Most of the bulletins were taken to Mr. Arthur in his office or library by -Mr. Phillips, his secre- tary, or Mr. Montgpmery, When the news of Blaine’s nomination Bame—news which had been anticipated by those who were watching the courge of, the convention— Gen. George H. Stfarp éf New York was standing in the telegraph room, and he car- ried the message to Mr. Arthur. Mf Ar- thur was never demonstrative, and he took the news coolly, thoughfhis defeat was a bitter blow to him. Mr. Arthur received the news of Cleveland's election sitting with @ group of friends {in the lower hallway of the Executive Mansion, a,part of which had been converted intofa smoking corner. During Cleveland’s Term. During the term Of . Cleveland there was no great occasion which called the tel- egraph into play; though, for that matter, there is never lack of important business for It to do. All of the elections which oc- curred during the four years were bul- letined to the White House direct, and Mr. Cleveland and his cabinet people read them usually in the brary. When the St. Louis convention was held there was compara- tively Httle interest in the bulletins, be- cause the action of the democratic party was cut and dried, But when the election news was coming in there was a lively in- terest in it among the White House people. Mrs. Cleveland’s interest was quite as great as that of her husband, and the wives of the cabinet officers were invited to dine at the Executive Mansion and to hear there the result of the voting. It was pretty evi- dent before the evening came, with its de- tails of the result, that the tide was against Mr, Cleveland. The President had not given up the fight when he sat in his office at 8 o'clock in the evening, surrounded by the members of his cabinet, and studied the re- turns as they were tabulated for him by Col. Lamont. Mr, Cleveland sat up until 2 o'clock that night, reading the bulletins. Most of friends left him at, midnight. At half-past 2 o'clock Col. Lamont gave the orders to close the telegraph room. How Preaident Harrison Heard the News. Four years later Mr. Harrison went through a similar experience. He heard the election news rather quietly, the death of Mrs. Harrison having withdrawn him from public view and even from the counsels of his political friends, When the Minneapolis convention was held there was quite a jolly group at the White House. The Presi- dent received the returns in his office; but in the telegraph room there was a group of newspaper correspondents who had been invited by Mr. Halford to remain at the White House and learn the returns. Mr. Halford read the bulletins to the group and Mr. Wanamaker took them to the Presi- dent. When the nomination was made the President made a pleasant little speech to the newspaper men. The contrast between that day and the day when the news of Mr. Harrison's defeat reached him was very striking. Mr. Harrison took the bad news philosophically. When he was elect- ed four years before, he went to bed long before the final and satisfying returns had reached Indianapolis. The White House Wires. ‘There are four wires to the White House and four keys on the operators’ table. When there is an election rush the local manager of the Western Union usually goes to the White House to help copy the bul- letins. One of the wires which comes into the telegraph room is the regular Western Union wire which runs from the main office of the telegraph company to the Presi- dent's house. It is over this wire that the President talks with the people in fornia or Maine or Florida when the public serv- ice requires it. It was over this wire that Mr. Harrison held a, long conversation with Gov. Beaver of Pennsylvania, who had stepped off a railroad train at a small sta- tion in Pennsylvania on.his way to Johns- town Reca.ise the President wanted to talk to him. If Gov. Beaver had received word that the President was waiting in the little station, communication between them could hardly have been more simple. The train stopped; the governgr stepped into the sta- tion and sat down beside a telegraph opera- tor; the President Spoké messages to the governor and the governor talked back— always through the telegraph operator and over the telegraph wire. This was made pessible by connecting the White House wire at the main office of the telegraph company here with a wire leading to the principal relay station in Pennsylvania and then with a wire leading to the small station. This gave a, continuous wire to Goy. Beaver’s stopping place. No one who has not talked with another person over a telegraph wire can have any idea of the ese with which conversation 1s carried on. It is much easier than conversation through an interpreter, and quite as rapid. When the President had concluded what he had to say, Gov. Beaver got on his train and continued his journey. How the News is Received. The Postal Telegraph Company also has a wire Into the White House, and it is con- nected at all times with a wire leading in- to the office of one of the press associations, so that when any important news is re- ceived from any part of the world as a part of a press association report, it can be transmitted direct to the White House. The President knows of any great event in any part of the world before the newspapers have an opportunity to put out announce- ments of it on their bulletin boards. There is a friendly rivalry between the two as- sociations In giving the President a news service without charge In addition to these two wires, there is an extra loop to the Western Unton office which can be used on occasions, and there is a wire running to all of the government departments. Much of the business be- tween the President and his department chiefs each day 1s carried on by telegraph. On the day of an election all of the early bulletins come in over the regular Western Union wire, sandwiched with the regular business of the day. Usually these bulle- tins are not important. They tell of the weather (which in New York state partic- ularly has a bearing on the size of the vote), and they tell whether voting is ac- tive or sluggish. In addition to these tele- graph bulletins of the Western Union, the news bulletins of the press associations are sent to the White House by messenger. About 8 o'clock in the evening the real news buletins begin to come in. They come as fast as two men can handle them. They show by comparison of the vote with the vote of a previous election about how things are running. The little white slips are taken to the President by his private secretary. As long as the President is in- terested in reading them they are copied. When the result CAS election is no longer in doul e President goes to telegraph fice ts closed. bam eae ces r. B. F. Montgomery, who presides over the White Hause telegraph bebe pp’ of the best known officials on duty there. His abilities are by no means confined to telegraphing, and the fact that he has re- tained his position through so many ad- ministrations shows that his services are appreciated. He was the first. telegraph operator to combine the typewriter with the telegraph instrument. Long before the press associations made the combination Mr. Montgomery had his typewriting ma- chine on his telegraph table and printed on it the messages for the President as they came over the wire. —_—>—_ HE WAS SOMEWHAT CHANGED. — Rat Under the Circumstances Artist Had Done His Best. From the London Tidbits. “Are you the mati whdé painted that ‘ere picture of ‘Moses in’the Bulrushes? ” asked a countryman of an artigt who had recently startled the town by an exhibition of oil Taintings. uv “Yes,” replied the artist. “All right; then I want you to paint my father.” “Certainly, if he gives me a few sittings.” ‘Can't do it; he’s dead.” ‘Let me have a photogtaph of him.” ‘Can't do that, nelther. le never had his picture taken. “I am afraid, then, I must declins “Decline! What for? Haven't you painted Moses? You didn’t have a photograph of him, did you? No, I thought not. Well, my father hain’t been dead nearly so long as Moses. If you can paint Moses, you ought to know enough to paint my father. ‘Appreciating the situation the artist went to work and evolved such a portrait as he thought might satisfy so original a son. “Crikey!” exclaimed the art patron, on seeking the completed painting. “That al most knocks the stuffin’ out of Moses; but, I say, how he has changed!” From Life. “I never heard such a girl for preaching punctuality,” said Maude. “It's a positive mania with her,” re- plied Mamie. “Yesterday she had the clocks taken out of her stocking: some one told her they were fast. OLD MOSINEE TOM (Copyright, 1894, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.) In the late fifties the Wisconsin valley above Portage was a wilderness. The lum- bermen who trailed their way up the river passed through tamarack swamps so thick @ deer could scarcely penetrate them, and over dry ridges clothed with splendid pine without underbrush, clean as a park and of imestimable value. Old Mosinee mountain rose out of the wide, green reach of the valley, dark with his robe of pines. <All about was forest jJand, untouched by the ax, almost untra- Versed by the ploneer’s restless foot. But year by year the loggers pushed northward, seeking points where the pine trees cculd be felled into the river, or where skidways could be constructed to make hauling unnecessary. The whole river had been ransacked and every favorable river point stripped of its timber before the movement back into the forest began. From short hauls and heavy timber the movement was toward long hauls and smaller timber. Each year the attack wid- ened as well as lengthened its battle line against the pines. Two young boys from La Crosse county in 1859 pushed up the river to “Ginny Bull fall and being attracted by old Mosinee mountain planted their camp at its foot and set about SS for winter. They were beyond any other camp so far as they knew, and when tbey blazed out a trefl in September they had before them a great deal of stern labor. They had hay to cut in the marshes, wood to clear out and shanties to build. They were sturdy young fellows, of that indom- itable sort raised up in America to do such work in face of everything. Holland was a bridegroom of only three months’ duration, and his wife was expect- ed to be the cook for the camp when the snows came and work of logging actually an. He was a tall, young fellow, with broad, flat, but powerful chest, very erect and active. Miller, his companion, was a short man, inclined to be fat when food and sleep were plenty. He was forever grumbling, and yet was a great joker. He assumed great airs at times, and told how well he lived at Hank. Look There. home. This he did when it would embar- rass the cook. He was, in fact, a comedian The work was hard, the fare monotonous, and his patience really gave out during severe sickness which came upon him du! ing October. He came to be about again, but he grumbled about Holland's cooking more and more. “T don't want to say anything against “You ought to stand it if I can,” Holland concluded. Miller turned his slap-jack over twice before he cut {t and began eating. “Seems to me these things git leatherer’n’ leatherer every day. I may be mistaken.” He worked his jaws meditatively on the problem. “All in y’r eye; they're right up to high- water mark. You're a little off y’r feed, I guess—Lampers down or something.” In secret Holland was a little bit worried bout his partner. He changed the subject. bi a @ rifle today, Jack! Off to the north.” ‘Doc. Adams, I guess.” “No; the Doc. wouldn't be up here so soon as that. It's some other party.” Miller took little interest in this, but worked away stubbornly on his slap-jacks. Suddenly his jaws stiffened and his eyes distended. “Hank, look there! Holland turned to the window, bee! saw the huge furry head, alert ears an oo muzzle of a bear, wistfully looking in. “The rifle,” he whispered. Miller raised his hand to feel for the rifle on the wall behind him, but the bear van- ished so silently and swiftly it was hard to think there had been a bear there at all. As Miller leaped for the rifle Holland flung the door open, and a broad path of light streamed out toward the forest, and in the midst of it wds a huge rounded shadow, shambling swiftly away. “Quick! There goes; fire!” Miller pulled up and fired at the vanishing shadow. And, like the echo of the shot, came another report from the edge of the clearing and a cry from @ man beyond the Y we've got ‘im. Bring a lantert Miller dashed in for the lantern while Holland waited for the voice to embody itself. ‘I wish I had ol’ feller shore’s aigs,” continued the voice, now getting near the house. As the light from the shanty shone on him the stranger appeared @ middle-aged man, very tall, with a ragged beard. He @_. fhe Fire Till Morn- s- had _a long and well-kept rifle in his hands. “Did you fire, too?” asked Holland. “I didn't dast t’ fire when he was lookin’ in the winder, an* when he got down couldn’t se2 ‘im till you opened the door. But we got ‘im.’ Miller appeared with the lantern and they all went out to the spot where the bear was last seen, but he was gone. There was blood on the ground, but not enough to trail him by. “He's hit, but he’s safe enough. If I had Zip, we'd tree him in fifteen minutes, but we might just as well give him up—without ’ said the old man after a pause. “All right,” said Holland. “We was just eating supper. Come in an’ take a snack “Don't care if I do,” laughed the hunter. ‘I didn’t know y’ was here till t’day," he said, as he sat down at the table. “Jest made a camp m'self up here a couple o° miles and saw y’r smoke t’day; thought I'd come down and make y’ a neighborly call.” He laughed again til) his mouth gaped wide and his little twink!.1¢ eyes disappeared. ‘Glad you did. Jack, slap in a couple o’ dabs’ o’ that pancake mortar—this fellow seems to a] te my cookin’.” “By the way,” put in Miller, as he set a Sat Crouched Ove: Pincriese PT HAMLIN GARLAND. The _ % couple of huge cakes sizzling, ‘‘what’s your mae when you're at home? Mine is Mil- er. “Mine's Tom Welsh, otherwise Mosinee om." “T’'ve heard of ypu," said Holland. “As I was sayin’, thinks on 'em. So I built a fire ‘Now, Zip, ol’ boy, you better hi an’ I says to Zip, that fire purty close ’r the wolves ‘ll pinch y' "—an’ com Sd “Glad y" aid,” “I'm feeling "Glad y’ kind o’ lonesome these days.’ “Lonesome!” the old fellow laughed. tramp from here to never see a human bein’ don’t know what lonesome means. course, when it’s handy I like to drop in this “55 ig Fnrtd ‘a little contab—but that ain’t ittin’ lonesome.” nO it ain’t, eh?’ said Miller, ironically. “Well, that’s the way I feel when T get lonesome. How's that fr a mouthful?” he said, => slid a huge cake into the stran- te. Bout my size,” cackled the old fellow, and he cut it into quarters and rolled it up like a quilt. In fact, he kept Miller turn- ing cakes till he cried out, “Look here, you must be holler clean to your boot heels.’ Supper being over, they drew round the fire and lighted their pipes, and the old hunter told stories of the woods. He knew the weeds as the Indians do. He could map the whole land in the ashes of the epee he generalized shrewdly ut the, w! e. ony soot many yarns about bears an’ wolves an’ painters and links (panthers and lynxes) is all bosh. Bears an’ links are mostly jest as glad t’ git out o’ your way as you are to git out their way. They don’t turn on a man wniess their young uns are with ‘em, or you corner ’em, or hungry. Most any ute they see a man. Same way with paint- ers in daylight, or night either. They jest puck-a-chee when they sec yeh. “Ever had a tussle with ‘em “O, yes, but I've never had ‘em turn on me except when I began the fvss. Then they'll fight f'r dea~ life jest like a man 1.’ wi low about wolves?” asked Miller, with 8 significant look at Holland, who had wolf stories to spare. The old man's face grew grim and he drew several whiffs from his pipe before he answered: “Wolves are, different; they're vicious, no two ways about that. They mean fight. “Especially when a lot of ‘em git to- gether.” The old man went on: “Wolves ain't cowardly, as some folks say. They've got sense and judgment. They know how to size up the other fellow so’st not t’ tackle a ci they can’t whip. They're all-fired smart, wolves is. They don’t walk into any traps, but they'll eat a feller up quickern lightnin’ when the chance is good. They don’t walk into a ne and they don’t bluster—they mean iz” He sat with his pipe in his mouth, his hands over his knees and his eyes fixed on the fire. His voice began to take on a reminiscent tone. The sound of the wind in the pines out- side stirred through the silence with a somber note, and Holland stirred up the fire in the vast fireplace till it roared louder than the wind. The hunter resumed after knocking the ashes out of his pipe and putting it away. “I've been chawed by bears, and clawed by wildcats and catamounts; I've had a buck deer trampin’ me into’ the ground; but I never had a wolf's tooth into me yet. When I do, I'm gone. They don’t make no mistakes. When they take hold it's after takin’ all the chances and calc’latin’ t' win. Now, a bear ‘ll git blind crazy with a bul- let, an’ go in where he is sure to get used up; so "ll a painter ‘'r a wildcat; but your wolf, he knows better; he don’t go into no such business; he jests limps off in the woods and swears vengeance.” Holland here related a story of a siege wolves through which he had been. Long m listened with an occasional corrobora- tive nod. “That's jest it; they’re sharks. Seems 's if they can smell a sick or wounded man ten miles. I to live down in Portland when I was a boy, an’ I know what a shark is. A shark is a wolf in the water. A wolf is a shark in the woods.” A curious look came on his face, and after a silence he said: “If they ever set tooth in old Tom, he'll know his time has come to go.” “I should think you'd keep out of their way if you're afraid of them,” said Hol- land, cautiously. The old man straightened His face darkened with anger. - “Say, d’y’ mean that?” Holland saw his mistake. “Bet down. Set down! I didn’t mean anything. Still you speak as if you kind 0’ dreaded them,” he added. “Wall, I do,” the hunter confessed. “But I ain’t afred of ‘em. I know ‘em. Know Jest how to take ‘em. I know 'em. Know of my little shed, put a rifle handy and Zip at my feet and sleep sound’s a baby in a cradle. If the fire gits low Zip growls and wakes me up and I throw on more wood. “But some way I feel as if they'd git me yit. I'll make a mistake some day and then Spee on top of me an’ that'll be the end me. A pile of bones gnawed white. Jest such a pile as I've come across myself many a time in the woods.” Spend- ing his days alone in the somber shadows of the forest he grown superstitious like the satlors. Signs and omens filled up half his life. He traveled by signs and built his little open shed accordii to the moon and stars. The sound of the wind was in the sad droop of his voice. “They killed my brother,” he said finally, “an’ they'll git me.” a rose slowly. “Wal, I guess I'll pull “O, don’t be in a hurry.” “OY Zip’ll get uneasy. “Better stay all night.” “O, no; couldn’t think of it ‘tall. Welves would clean out my whole camp before daylight. Hark!” He lifted his hand. “They're on the rampage now. They al- ways are before @ storm.” Afar off, blent with the rising snarl of the winds in the woe, Cy oe hear eel age ond of wolves urrying ler some leer. Thi man grasped his rifle. ~~ rs Holland went with him to the a —_ A merge “Come and see us; our door is alwa; open. Good-bye. Good luck.” igs “Good luck,” replied the old man, as he blended into the dense shadow of the forest. Holland turn his face upward to the gray skies and felt fine flakes of snow be- ginning to sift down through the massive tops of the trees. Wolves were astir in the Pay of the woes a . wildcat across the ver was growling e scr down the — rambled up or le shuddered and looked back - tered the warm-lighted shanty. gach “I don’t want his quarters tonight.” ‘By Jingo, I should say not,” said Miller. Holland awoke in the midst of a dream of a man sinking in the snow and crying help! For a few moments he could not tell where his dream left off and his wak- ing began. Ali was dark in the room, save th flicker of the dying firelight on of the cabin. The wind was stronger without, steady and cold. He sat up bed to convince himself that he was in his cabin, and felt for Miller, to reassure himself that he was not alone. He was about falling off asleep again when, faint and far off, mingled with the sound of the storm outside, came the clamor of distant wolves and a long-drawn cry: “Help, he—e—l—p!" He sprang to his feet and stood trreso- lute in the middle of the floor, not sure of senses yet. He leaned to listen. It came louder. The clamor of yelping wolves drew nearer, and now unmistakably the wild cry of a man. fey Help! For God's sake, open the joor!”” a Holland flung up the bar. The noise of beating feet was heard. He swung the door open, and with the speed of a desperate deer Long Tom shot across the clearing into the cabin falling in a heap on the floor, while not a rod behind, their rea tongues lapping, their eyes shining with greenish, phosphorescent, terrifying glare, came a dozen wolves, tearing along In pur suit, and sc savage and determined their hunger if Hollend had not swung the door in their faces they would have plunged through the open door upon the exhausted hunter The old man rose from the floor, insane with wrath. “Give me your rifle,” he snorted, when he could get his breath. “Let me get a chance at them.” He had stayed away too long. The fire had burned down, and the walting wolves had sprung upon the faithful dog. ‘They. were gnawing his bones when the hunter ar- rived. At the sound of his rifle they scat- tered, but almost instantly turned upon him and he fled. He loaded and fired once more, and then barked away, holding them at bay with his clubbed rifle. ‘In this way he back- ed all the way down the river bank, facing the snarling pack. As be neared the cabin he flung away his rifle and ran—only his marvelous speed saving him. He wept like a child, and swore in his behtecaredler Shc ——_ of his faithful dog ein th oe hungry ees, e center of that circle ink I'd play him such a tric! last,” he groaned, and swore, covering: nis face with his hands. “‘An’ he trusting in me Sayin’ to them hell-hounds: ‘Old Tom'll be back goon an’ you'll git out o’ here!’ An’ all the time me settin’ here smokin’ an’ havin’ @ good time—my God, it's awful! It's un- civilized ‘to — an old friend He would not go to sleep, but sat around over the fire until morning. He ate break- fast in the same gloomy silence, and then he rose. '‘Wal—I'll be goin’. “Better bring y'r things down and stay with us.” “No, I guess not. If I find my rifle I'll be all right—if I only—-" He was in a softer mood now and he couldn’t speak of his dog. Holland went with him to help him find his rifle. This they did without long search, “Well, now, come in any time. Our latch string is always out. Come back to dinner, anyway.” “Thankee—I guess I'll have to go down to Ginny to git some ammynition.” “Well, good luck.” ‘Good luck,” he answered; but his face was sorrow!ul to eee. They never saw him again. They heard of him in Ginny. He bought a new outfit and struck off into the forest alone. ——_— A Matter of Economy. From the Detroit Free Press. The lady from the tamarack swamps was laying in some parlor furniture and the clerk in the store was offering his ‘valuable advice “No,” no chairs. “No chairs, madam?” he exclaimed, “I never heard of a parlor without chairs.” “Well, you come to my house some time and you wil) sec one,” she retorted. “What will you have instead?” “Bofics, youag man, sofies; these little two-seat ones, and taytaytays and things like that.” The clerk's equanimity was receiving a powerful jostle, “What in the mischief do you want to do that for?” he asked in &@ helpless sort of h2 said In rebuttal, “I don’t want ‘Well, you don’t know anything about it. I've raised five; three’s married and the other two's got heaus; I've always had chairs, and every time when the courtin’ was over with them girls and they got married, I had to get new ones; three sets of parlor chairs in three winters is goin’ it most too strong; they git broke down some- how, and now I'm goin’ to put a stop to it by having sofies, d you needn't be tryin’ to change my mi I know what I want, and if you haven’ t sofies say so, and I'll so where they do have them.” @ argument was convincing, and the clerk fitted the thrifty lady out with a halt dozen, warranted to carry two with safety and economy. —____+e+_____ The Power of the Mind. From the Toronto Truth. It is very interesting to observe the pro- gress of mind power in its struggle with the brutal forces of matter. A Boston wo- man has carried this science of mind power to such perfection that she asserts that it 1s not what one eats, but what one thinks he eats, that satisfies the stomach and sus- tains life. To illustrate her acquired power, she says: “I feel, for instance, that I must conquer boiled cabbage. I always had a belief that it disagreed with me. So to- day I just talked to it on my plate, told it that spirit power is omnipotent, and that it w nothing but an appearance of green leaves. Then I ate it without fear, and it did not hurt me. I conquered sweet pota- toes in much the same way, only I did not condescend to talk to them. I merely held them in the thought of utter nothingness, and ate them fearlessly.” If these discov- eries continue, they are Mable to lead to wonderful resuits. They will, indeed, be in- valuable to the poor man, for, when he be- comes versed in the science of mind power, and being only able to secure pork and beans for his dinner, all he will have to do is to talk at them and bri about the eerped delusion that he ts dining off roast f or quail on toast. To hold up harm- ful or unpalatable food and call it utter nothingness is a wonderful stretch of mind power or imagination by which to conquer mince ple, watermelon or Limburger cheese. e+ Writing on the Margins of Books. Andrew Lang. “Collectors love a clean book, but a book scrawled on may have other merits. Thack- eray's countless caricatures add a delight to his old school books; the comments of Scott are always to the purpose; but how few books once owned by great authors come into the general market. Where ts Dr. Johnson's library, which must bear traces of his buttered toast? Sir Mark Sykes used to record the date and placo of purchase, with the price—an excellent habit. These things are more personal than book plates, which may be and are detach- ed by collectors and pasted into volumes, The selling value of a book may be lowered even by a written owner's name, but many a book, otherwise worthless, is redeemed by an interestirg note. Even the unin- teresting notes dually acquire an anti- quarian value, if contemporary with the author. They represent the mind of a dead age, perhaps the common scribbler is not aware of this; otherwise he is indeed without excuse. For the great owners of the past, certainly, we regret that they were so sparing in marginalia. But this should hardly be considered an excuse for the petty owners of the present, with ‘thelr most observing thumb.’ In the case of one well known man of letters,lately dead, his books will be found rich in unpublished odes and sonnets on the fly leaves. Sliake- Speare had practiced th and if any of his books were discove: how rich we should be! For there is more rejoicing among the curious over one sonnet undis- covered than rinety-nine which need no discovery. ———_-se0 The Occasion Hopelessty Marred. From the Chicago Daily Tribune. A party of three policemen got leave of absence the other day and went on a hunt- ing and fishing excursion, their objective point being a secluded spot in a locality of whose whereabouts it is only necessary for the purposes of this narrative to mention that it was several miles from anywhere and could only be reached by a long and laborious journey in a wagon from the nearest railway station. ‘The party arrived at its destination an hour or two before nightfall and proceeded to unload. The tent, the camp stove, blank- ets, eatadles, ins, ammunition, game bags, fishing rods and other necessities of the campaign were taken out of the wagon by Mike and Larry and piled on the ground. “I guess that’s all,” said Mike, preparing to climb out. Not by a jugful!” responded Dennis, the ranking officer of the squad. “Look over in that corner beyant ye. There's a jug. Ite full. Mind, now, how ye handle it!"" Larry picked up the jug with great alac- ity. But in handing it out he had the misfor~ tune to strike it against the hind wheel. And it broke all to pieces. There was a ghastly, horrible silence. It was broken at last by Dennis. “Boys,” he said, in a heart-broken, world- weary, but resolute voice, “git out o’ that an’ heip me pile these things back in the wagon.”