Evening Star Newspaper, December 1, 1894, Page 17

(Copyright, 1804) Chapter IL—Dr. Glade’s Treatment. “Was that Miss Glade I saw driving @way as I came in?” asked Maj. Passmore, removing his glasses. “It was Dr. Glade,” replicd his stster. “Doctor; fudge! The idea of calling a — woman fresh from college a doc- Maj, Passmore was a tall, gray-haired akeptic of sixty; his sister, Ruth, a shrink- tng Uttle spinster of fifty. “Well, what did she say? Is Connie any better?” asked the major, testily. “Dr. Glade said she was making satisfac- tory progress.” “Progress! Hum! It's my belief she’s wetting weaker every day.” “Now, Roger, you know better. “Now, Rath, you will pardon my biunt- mess, but your simple faith in this Miss Glade is extremely childish.” “Dr. Glade has done her good,” said Aunt Ruth, assertively. “Not a bit. We have been at Hastings ow a month; her cough has grown worse, her cheeks paler, she’s more languid and tndifferent and her appetite is entirely Bone.” “It's taken time to comprehend her ease.” “Rubbish! Dr. Lancewood understood her case, and it's my opinion you made a grave mistake when you left home and ook the case out of his hands.” “Dr. Lancewood did nothing to benefit Why, Dr. Glade, How Could You Know ‘Thatt her; and, besides, he recommended Hast- ings.” “But not a female practitioner, who, 'm convinced, is letting her drift into con- sumption. So I've sent for Dr. Lancewood tw come down.” “What will Dr. Glade think?’ “I don’t care what Miss Glade thinks. Connie's life is in danger, and I shan't up with this feminine nonsense any a to him yesterday, and when he could come p i i E- cover anything seriously the matter with = young lady, so that when Aunt Ruth — / pass! the month of March at Hastings, he admitted it might do her good. Constance Passmore was an heiress; a romantic, fragile blonde of twen- ty; being somewhat delicate, she had been a ted child; and nothing that wealth devotion could procure had been de- led her as a girl. When Dr. Helen Glade took har case in hand, she was gre: ment seldom met with in hospital prac- tice, while the remedy was not to be found im the Pharmacopacla. She prescribed a| “I’m So Gland You Have Got Your De- mild tonic, and applied her own personal sympathy until she had won the girl's con- The morning that Maj. Passmore had been traducing her, Dr. Glade had diag- Rosed Connie's complaint and settled upon | and embarrassed they stood speechless for * Dr Helen ‘Glade . He! was a graceful, self-re- Hant, pale-featured woman with dark, glossy hair brushed as smoothly over her brow as its rippling tendeucy would permit. She said to Connie, on cail- = morning: think, my dear, I fully comprehend Little by little I have ting you." “Where did I get it?” asked the invalid, languidly reclining on a couch. “While decorating the Christmas tree, from your cousin. “Oh, Dr. Glad rising on her elbow, her transparent cheeks aflame. “Pardon me, my dear, but a physician to of any use to the patient must have her confidence. Did you not feel the first| i the mails,” he sald grav ‘symptoms then?” “Yes; but more the night after,” shyly. “Which was Christmas; there had been a family party. Vor three days Cousin Wal-| Uncle Roger had destroyed It) and then ter had been very attentive, Am I right?” Her patient nodded assent.~ “On Christmas night, after having been all day very merry, facetious and devoted, You found yourselves alone in the—the con- swervatory?” “No, it was the library.” ‘Ah, the libray. Yes, well?” “I had been reading ‘The Newcomes,’ and I asked him if he had ever read it. And he| like it | ray: said he had just finished it. Wasn't oad?” of twentysix, | you called Doctor Plyre. THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBE ISAGREE for BY . DAvIp WECHSLER, I “Walter Plyne. His mother was poor sister, Mamma’s relations are all poor. “Thank you, my dear, for your confidence. I can now prescribe for you, I hope, with more success.” The next day when sho called, Dr. Glade said to Aunt Ruth: “I should lke Miss Con- nie to drive with me this afterndon. I find she wants rousing, and her mind diverting from the subject which I believe you know is depressing her. “Yes, I know what you mean,” said Aunt Ruth; “I wish she could forget it.” “I am comparatively at leisure from 2 until 4 in the afternoon, and I shall be glad of her company then.” That afternoon Dr, Glade and her charm- ing patient drove along the sea front in her victoria. For some time the girl did not spontaneously respond to her companion’s cheerful conversation; but as they were turning they met old Dr. Wrench driving with his new assistant. As they passed both gentlemen raised their hats. ly grasped Dr. Glade's hand, ho was that gentleman Wrench and his assistant." “Old Dr, “But the other—it is Walter!" her cheeks suddenly aglow with warm pink tints. “Your Cousin Walter?’ ‘Yes. Do you think he noticed me?" “Oh, he must have done so, for he didn’t notice me.” “He looked pale, didn't he?” “I don’t think so,” said Dr. Glade, re- flectively. “And his mustache has grown longer.” “Has he got one? I didn’t notice it.” “Oh, yes, dark and curly. How long has been with Dr. Wrench?” ‘Only a short time, I believe.” ‘He must have obtained his degree.” “Certainly, or Dr. Wrench would not have en him.” ‘i “Oh, I’m so glad! For poor Walter has had such a struggle—it is so expensive— and the examinations so dificult.” wr the remainder of the drive Miss Cen- ni animation was in marked contrast with her lassitude earlier in the day. The following afternoon, when Dr. Glade called, Aunt Ruth timorously said: “Will you come into the library, Dr. Glade? My brother wished to speak with you about Connie.” “Yes,” said Uncle Roger, when they were all three closeted together. “I—I wished to ask, Miss Glade, if you would object to a consultation regarding Connie's case with our family physician?” “Certainly not,” replied Dr. Glade, “but I really don’t think it necessary.” “Possibly not,” broke in Uncle Roger, brusquely, “but for my own satisfaction, I should prefer it. “Oh, then by all means, let us have the consultation—for your own satisfaction”— replied Dr, Glade, with the faintest ione of irony in the last three words, While driving that afternoon, Dr. Glade called at the hospital, and asked Connie to go with her to the children’s ward, as there were no infectious cases, and it might interest her. To Connie's surprise, they found Dr, Wrench’s assistant there, and, to her still greater surprise, he came up and greeted Helen as if he had known her some time. “Permit me,” said Dr. Glade, “to intro- duce you to a patient of mine; Miss Pass- more, this is Dr. Plyne.’”” “Oh, we—we know each other, mered the young man. “Ha! then it is all the better. Will you Kindly explain the ward to Miss Passmore, while I transact a little business with the gree,” She Said. matron. I know you will excuse me, my dear,” with a knowing glance at Connie, and then Dr. Glade hastened away. The lovers were so completely surprised some moments, then the giri sald: “How strange it seems, Walter, to hear “Yes, I-I am hardly used to it myvolf, et.” ¥ Then he lapsed into silence again, and she caught him furtively examining her features, as she was trying to scan his. “I am so glad. Wal—Dr. Plyne—you have got your degree,” she obsarved at length. yh, thank you, Connie. I thought you would be; that {s why I sent you word.” “Sent me word? I only learned of It yes- .terday from Dr. Glade.” “Didn't you receive the notice I sent you from Kings?” “No. I received nothing.” “That is queer. It must have been lost “What a pity, for I should have been awfully glad to hear of your success.” Walter reflected a moment (he knew remarked, as if to change the subject: you have been Ill, Connie?” “Who told you?” He smiled faintly as he replied: “My medical training must have been remiss if I could not discover that without a stethoscope.” “Do I look—er—so faded, Walter?” “Oh, no, not exactly faded, but something budding rose deprived of the sun's a simile nearer the truth than he thought. “It was. So he asked you how you Ifked| When Dr. Glade presently joined them Ethel Newcome?” “Yes he did. How strangely you hit upon things.” “And he compared you to Ethel (only you were much prettier), and sald: ‘If you could enly love him as Ethel did Clive, he would “Oh, We Know Each Other Already,” ‘ellow tn the world.’ now could you know that? “Mere con my dear. But that dear old weomes’ is responsible for many an ill-starred romance in real lfe. And so you said y could, and you were engag “No. Connle shook her head sad “Then, what happened—a quarrel? “Oh, no. When Walter spoke to Uncle Roger, he was in a great rage, and—and sent to it. Walter id he should never c fort. the next day—and have never seen each uncle won't let me mention his name. Dr. Glade regarded her a moment re- flectively, and then sald “What is your cousin? “A medical student at King’s College, London. “His name ts Walter—er—?” —with a sob—‘we other since. | embarrassment. And | they were conversing without the slightest ‘That afternoon as they were returning from their drive the doctor said to her patient: “Well, my dear, how do you like my new treatment?” “Oh, Dr. Glade, did you know that Wal- ter was here” “Possibly I did; what then?” “Then you are a perfect «ear of a physt- clan. I could hug you for it!" exclaimed Connie rapturously. Not here In the carriage, dear. I know how you feel, for, as a Yankee friend of mine would say: “I've heen thar’ myself.’ Au revoir until tomorrow.” Chapter IL—The Doctors Disagree, and Then— When Dr. Lancewood assented to a con- sultation with Dr. Glade he Httle knew what a trial was in store for him. Some years before he was a man of thirty, a clever, easy-going, prosperous | London medical coach; he fell seriously in love with one of his pupils, a charming, ambitions girl about twenty. But through her jealousy of another young lady pupil they quarreled, and she had refused him. Afterward Dr. Lancewood bought a good practice in Hampshire, where he had set- | tied, and often felt the need of a help- | mate, for bachelor doctors are not fa- | vored ty prudish old malds or anxious rammas with growing daughters. Aunt Ruth led Dr. Helen Glade to the brary when she called the next day, and introduced her to Dr. Lancewood. Instant- ly there was a mutual recognition betwee! | the ex-coach and his formar pupil, bu' | neither of them orally acknowledged thi | fact, until Aunt Ruth closed the door, an. left them, when Dr. Lancewood asked, with ill-concealed amusement: - “Did 1 understand Miss Passmore to say Dr. Glade? “You did, Dr. Lancewood, " replied Holen, with chilling politeness. “Really, I—1 am surprised, Helen—Miss Glade—that 1s, Dr. Glade.” R 1, 1894—TWENTY PAGES. 17 ‘Why are you surprised?” . “I did not expect this-I—’ He con- tinued to look at her with an incredulous smile, mingled with admiration for her beauty, her self-poesession, and her pro- fessional style, which she assumed with elegance, it seemed to him. “Did you not understand you were to consult With a lady?” “Yes, yes; but I expected an older one than you are, Helen.” There was a ten- derness in the way he pronounced her name that touched her, but she smothered it, and frigidly broke in with: “Pardon me, 1 must ask you not to use my Christian name.” “Oh, very well,” he answered, reddening, “but 1 once had the privilege—” “Which you forfeited—and therefore it indelicate to assume it now.” “I never forfeited it, nor shall I ever re- linquish it—in my own self-communion with you—as you were tn the old days,” he replied with some fervor. “I prefer not to discuss follies of the past,” she said, with indifference. “Let us confine ourselves to the consultation. a you please,” he said, with resigna- jon. “Will you examine the patient?” “I have already done so, last night.” “Done so! ixamine my patient without my being present!” exclaimed Helen, as- shed. “Excuse me, my patien' ‘Pardon me, my patient. I must say I never heard of such a breach of profes- sional etiquett “What nonsense! my care.” “But you gave he: “Only temporarily “Even so, you were not justified in mak ing an examination without my presence, she said, her eyes flashing angrily. “Ha, ha! Well, upon my word, you're as imperious as ever, Helen—" i “Dr, Lancewood, 1 must insist upon—" “My calling you doctor,” he sald, with playful raillery. “{ should be warranted in giving up the case after that.’ “Oh, pray don’t! for you're conducting the case very well, very well indeed.” Helen was still more indignant at this Sne was first under p.” patronizing compliment, and said, with hauteur: “I did not ask for your opinion, Dr. Lancewood.” I Am Surprised, Helen. What are we consulting for, Dr. with a humorous twinkle in his “pn Glade eyes. ‘ot for my satisfaction, I assure you “But it is for mine, Helen—er—Dr. for 1 never enjoyed a consultation assure you—" “Will you oblige me by observations to our patient. “Our patient 1s good; it's a slight conces- ston, but ‘twill serv “What have you to st ‘Our patient?” he broke in “As you choose—i more, onfining your about cetiously. tly, there are symptoms of t “Oh! Oh, indeed!” cried Helen, faintly Ironical. hat you had discovered, I presume." I can’t say I had.” You don’t mean to say you disa~ with my conclusion?” I do, decidedly “Have you examined her “Yes. More than oncy.” “And yet you have not hit upon source and cause of her prostration?” “Oh, yes, I have,” with an air of triumph. Her lungs are tainted with—* ‘Fudge! Not thi “Well, upon my right egotism is “Quite masculine,” sarcastjcally. “Bah! I'll throw up the case! “Thank you.” “I thank the fates our affair never got beyond a—a—ttirtation.” “So do I; a mere filrtation “Enough of that,” he said, completely baffled by her indifference. “Let us con- sider the patient.” “But I understood you to relinquish the case.” the slightest. 1! Such—such down- “I do, I do,” mechanically putting on his gloves. leave it to you.” “Thanks. I believe I can satisfactorily conduct it.” “To the undertaker,” he said sneeringly, pacing the room, as he struggled with his gloves. No, to the church,” she retorted smil- ing. ‘The churchyard,” sarcastically. ‘0, to the chancel,” a whimsical smile playing about her lip “Eh, chancel? What do you mean?" He 1 with his hand on the door knob. t concerns my patient,” disdain- fully. “But I shall have ,to make some report to Maj. Passmore. “Tell him we disagree,” she replied, un- disguisedly enjoying his dilemma. “Now, Helen, why will you not be sonable? You are concealing sometiing from me. In spite of your perversity, I-I love yo! She could have melted then, but, with an effort, calmly said: ‘Let us stick to the patient, please. No, confound the patient! I've given up the patient. Now sit down, Helen, and I'll listen to your opinion with all the respect T'a_ give to— “Will you, indeed?" archly. “Yes, I will. Now, do be seated. I'm anxious to know what you have discovered about Miss Passmore.” Let Us Forget That, Helen. “And you will listen to It without preju- dice?” she asked, mechanically taking @ seat on the opposite side of the table. “Certainly I will.” ‘Very well, then, since you concede I'm enttiled to an opinion, I will give you my diagnosis” Thereupon Helen related Connie's love story, and dwelt upon how she had im- proved since meeting Walter Plyne, When she had finished, Dr. Lancewood exclaim- ed: “Well, I declare! I should never have looked at her case in that light.” “Of course not. Men have such tough, leathern hearts they rarely think of the female organ being so much more fragtle and sensitive.” “Then you believe her lungs are sound?" “Quite sound yet,” but I admit they are delicate.” here can be no doubt of that,” he said, musingly, playing with the paper knife, “Her mother, you perhaps know, dled of consumption.” “Yes—so her aunt told me. But the girl has no will power, she has been petted and pampored from the cradle: every trivial dis- | appointment she meets with she takes to If she 1s allowed to mope and re- pine, as she has done for the last three months, and further weaken an already lelicate constitution, we may expect an at- flack on her weakest organs, the lungs.” “Admirably reasoned! I quite agree with * Yolen was flattered. In spite of an effort at cool indifference, her cheeks glowed with heart. pleasure at this spontaneous acknowledg- ment. Still, she tried to deprecate his compliment by saying: Riis tis only a feminine practitioner's view “Nevertheless, rational. Now what do you propose déing—what do you advise?” He saw theyadvantage he had gained, and astutely followed it up with deferen- tial acquiesence. 3 “Well,” said Helen, with that gratifica- tion which every woman feels when tho man she loves appeals to her judzment, “we should advise Maj. Passmore to with- draw his oppqition to her lover. If he doesn't, we camnot ‘be responsible for the cons=quences.” e “That is right,” hé assented. “There really was no need of a consultation, you had mastered the case so completely. I must confess I should never have sought for the trouble in that direction.” From him this flgttery came to her like some delicate perfime, and though her pleasurable emotion struggled with her reason, she was ppwerless to resist ab- sorbing it. > ° “You will perhaps tell Maj. Passmore of our—our conclusions?" she asked. “Would it not come better from you, be- ing your case?” “Oh, no; 1 fancy he would value—that ts, your declaration would have more weight. “Very well, if you think so, But let see; how can it be put? We can’t boldly: ‘You must le young fellow, or— “Oh, no; that would never do; Maj. Pass- more is so dogmatical.” “Ah! I have it! We can say your niece 1s suffering from a peculiar affection of the heart, and we recommend that you place her under the care of Dr. Plyne, who has » a special study of and understands is say your niece marry this 8, yes; that would do splendidly ‘But he doesn’t know Walter Plyne is practicing. . “All the better.” But when he learns who he is, ho refuses “We must abandon the case.” “Would you?” “Decidedly, I should support you.” ‘And it would serve him right, for he ts an arrogant old skeptic. He has treated me with an ill-concealed contempt ever since I took the case. “Oh, he has, has he? That must havé sadly tried your patience,” sald Dr. Lance- wood, with earnest sympathy. “He has. He is not the only scoffer. There are masculine women, too; some who patronize, some who sneer, and others so narrow-minded and cynical they make the career of a woman doctor positiv unendurable!” Tears of vexation were precious near, as she uttered this passionate protest; so near that his tender rejoinder brought them glistening and trembling on her long dark lashes. “Yes, yes, I can quite understand, Helen, the heathen bigotry you have had to con- tend with. ft is crushing enough to a young man beginning practice, but to an earnest, sensitive young woman it is cruel, atrocious, inhuma She hastily brush: y the moisture from her as she remarked: ‘Those are the only words of sympathy I have years’ practice.” ‘Oh, Helen!” he cried, passionately, grasp- g her hand as she rose from the tabl it had not been for my folly with Ann ice, 1 might have saved you from all al torture.” ot your folly, Dr. Lancewood,” uid, turning away yes it was, Hel No, it—it was’ mir told me she had deliberately angled for you—but—but—I was too proud to apolo- zize for the wrong I had done you—I—I— do so now,” with an effort ta, suppress the voice. by ber y towa smor in he wavering manner ho Js him, and said at that, Helen” darling. was a fiomjnt’s resistan a swi slance ¥ronfher most eyes, a half- then what had bay female physician mo!ted remulous woman, with inst his hear What pr Ther vpward smothered sob} a lgasp: been the ha’ into the confi her hewl pr “Oh! H. yea of your sweet Gompanionship I have jos he cried, at leryrth péleasing her. “Yes, ‘and Igpf pours, Gorald. And to think ff-it had Mon et een for this consulta- rling. I tys bless the day I was summon- She's Too Yeu nd I. Oh! n the mi 1d," she exclaimed, “I fear my tear- y us, when we re- ‘Oh! no, Helen; you can put on your veil, and remain in the shade, and leave me to conduet the matte #9 well. Ring the bell, and let us get it ove - Passmore Dissents, Aunt Ruth and When Maj. Passmore came into the room Dr. Lancswood, in his grave, professional manner, said: “After u long and serious consideration of ar niece’s case, I have to report on behalf ef Dr. Glade and myself there is nothing done, so far as we can ald her.” ou don’t mean to say,” gasped Maj. Passmore, “her case is hopeless?” Well, yes—and no.” ‘No and yes. What do you mean? Has her case been neglected?” “Yes. It has got beyond our control.”* I feared so. I thought Miss Glade did not comprehend i ha “Ha! There you wrong understood the case mu did—than I ever should. “Then why did she not tell us sooner— this is criminal regligence—I shall hold her responsible!” flashing a look of con- tempt at Helen, Pardon me, Maj. Passmore. done all that could be done. But if the case is hopel “In our hands it is. But there is hope in another direction. In a word, Miss Con- stance is suffering from a peculiar atiec. tion of the h * h, it’s not the lungs, then?" 0. Now we recommend you to place her under the care of Dr. Plyne.” “Plyne, Plyne, Dr. Plyne—who is he? The nanie seems familiar.’ “A heart specialist, associa f Wrench here.” iataahaiags Maj. Passmore looked searchingl Dr. Lancewood to Helen, pia “Is this Dr. Plyne a recent graduate?” he asked, “He is, and asa a relation of yours. “Oh, I see, I see,” cried Major Passmore, his face assuming a Vermillion hue. “Hum! And you, Dr. Lancewood, lend yourself to this feminine conspiracy?” “Oh, Roger, don’t osay that,” cried Aunt Ruth, thmorously, “Hold your tongue, Ruth!” fiercely. “I lend myself to hothing of the kind—tt is my conviction." Then Dr. Lancewood rapidly gave his reasons. When he had concluded, Major Passmore sal “I shall do nothing of the kind. I'll not haye him in the house.” “Very well,” said Helen rising, “then I relinquish the case.”” “I am glad you do, Lancewood, you'll manage it better alone. “I shall have nothing further to do with it, sir. I agree with Dr. Glade. We have given you our opinion; if you follow your own, you must be responsible for the con- sequences. Good day, sir; good day, Miss Passmore.” And with dignified urbanity, Dr. Lancewood followed Helen into the hall. Major Passmore was beside himself with uncontrollable rage. “Lancewood,” he exclaimed from the door, “that girl's bewitched you; she's lead- ing you by the nos u've lost your wits— you'll regret this, mark my words!" Major Passmore,” said Dr, Lancewood, with exasperating coolness, “I am sorry to see you have permitted your habitual brusqueness to degenerate into rudeness. Before the irate major could reply the door was closed, and the two doctors were gone. “Oh, Gerald, you carried It off splendid- ly,” said Helen as they drove away. ‘Two days later Major Passmore sent Dr, Lancewood 2 note asking him to call, and apologizing for his conduct. At first Dr, her. Dr. h better Glade than I Dr. Glade hi atter of fact, I believe, Annie afterwards | | “Yes, do, Gerald, for the poor girl's sake; think of our own case.” So Dr. Lancewood answered the summons. “Are tke still of the same opinion?” asked Major Passmore when they were together. “Quite,” answered Dr. Lancewood, firmly. “Because if you do not the girl may not live a year, for if her system becomes re- duced her constitutional weakness will su- pervene, and her decline will be rapid.” “I cannot close my eyes to the danget still, this young Plyne, I cenar) “You mistrust, fs mer- are mistaken about that. I have seen him, and I have auestioned Dr. Wrench about his ability. He will make his way in the world. He has been a cons entious student, and he will make a suc- cessful practitioner. If he remains with Dr. Wrench he will ultimately come into a valuable practice. Therefore, I see no rea- son why you should oppose his union with your niece.’ “She's too young to marry—yet.”” “You may withhold your sanction until the irreparable mischief is done.” “This is your own individual conviction “Tt is. “Then I suppose I must submit, for Ruth is of the same opinion and never gives me any peace over the matter. I’m anxious to do what is right for the girl, so—so if you will be so kind you may bring Dr. Plyne tomorrow “I will do so,” said Dr. Lancewood. re One morning at breakfast, six months later, Major Passmore received by mail the wedding cards of Dr. Helen Glade and Dr. Gerald Lancewood. here, Ruth!” he exclaimed, handing his sister the cards, “I told you that girl had bewitched hi a MOODY'S SERMON METHODS. Constructs One of His Dis- courses. Prof. Drummond tn MecClure’s Magazine. His method of sermon making is original. In reality his sermons are never made, they are always still in the making. Sup- pose the subject {s Paul; he takes a mon- strous envelope, capable of holding some hundreds of slips of paper, labels it “Paul,” and slowly stocks it with original notes, cuttings from papers, extracts from books, illustrations, scraps of all kinds, nearly or remotely referring to the su ject. After accumulating these, it may be for years, he wades through the mass, selects a| number of the most striking points, arranges them and, finally, makes a few Jottings in a large hand, and these he carries with him to the platform. The process of looking through the whole en- velope is repeated each time the sermon is preached. Partly on this account and partly because in delivery he forgets some points, or disproportionately amplifies others, no two sermons are ever exactly the seme. By this method also—a matter of much more importance—the delivery 18 always fresh to himself. Thus, to make this ‘clearer, suppose that after a thor- ough sifting, 100 eligible points remain in the envelope, Every time the sermon is preached these hundred are overhauled. But no single sermon, by a mere limitation of time, can contain, say, more than seventy. Heno though the general scheme is the sam there is always novelty both in the subjec matter and in the arrangement, for the | particular seventy varies with each time | of delivery. No greater mistake could be | made than to imagine that Mr. Moody | does not study for his sermons. On the contrary, he 1s always studying. When in the evangelistic field, the batch of envel- opes, bursting with fatness, appears the | nt breakfast is over, and the strang enters at almost any time of the d xcept at the hours of platform work, will | find him with the litter of notes, either | | How He stuffing himself or his portfolios with the new “points” he has picked up through the day. His search for these “points,” and | especially for light upon texts, Bible tdeas or characters is ceaseless, and he has an | eye like an eagle for anything really goo; Possessing a considerable brary, he browses over it when at home; but his books are chiefly men, and no student ever read the ever open page more diligently, more intelligently, or to more immediate practical purpose. ~—s0e Jaggler's Tricks. From the San Francisco Examiner. Cinquevalll, the French juggler, says that it is hard to tell which is his most difficult trick. “As a usual thing,” he goes on, “the easiest trick is the most showy and gets the most applause, while some very difficult feat ‘will not get a hand,’ as we say. For instance, the trick of throwing a potato in the alr, dividing it with one stroke of the knife and then catching the two halves, one on the fork and one on the Knife, is perhaps the most difficult, and took me nearly two years to learn. It is so quickly done, however, and apparently so easy, that an audience cannot appre- ciate it before it 1s over. Let me purposely drop the potato and catch it on the knife blade just as it ‘s only an inch from the floor, and they burst into applause. It is so unexpected. . “Two others of my most difficult tricks, one, balancing a cigar on top of another on my forehead and tossing {t from there so that it turns over once and falls point first into a cigar holder in my mouth; the other, twirling a hoop in my right hand with a glass of water balanced inside its rim, and passing two balls through it with my left hand, have been watched with stolid indifference by an audience that went wild over juggling two plates in the alr, one of the simplest tricks.” soe The Crucial Test Had Deen Omitted. From the Queens Australia. “Your highne: said the menial, “the man with a bullet-proof shirt is in waiting in the anteroom. “Show him in.” Meekly the inventor entered. “Has this garment been subjected to every possible test?” inquired the potentate. It has, please your majesty.” "—has it been to the steam laundry?” The inventor fell to the floor in a swoon. “Foiled again,” said he as he fell. Back at Them. From the Dallas Herald, i Bob—"What did the lecturer say when you threw those cabbages at him?” Dick—"Uh, he said he had hoped the audience would be pleased, but he really hadn't expected they would entirely lose their heads 00s d It all the Sume. From the Detroit Sun, Harry—"it 1 had known the electric light was going out and the car would be dark so long | would have snatched a kiss.” Sue—“Heavens! 1 thought you did. Any- how, somebody did.” coe ne Exceptions, From the Dubuque Times. Wife—"rhere, now! This paper says that marriel men can live on less than single men.” Husband—"But, my dear, all of us haven't wives who take in washing.” ——_+ ee A Queer Notion, From the Chicago Record. ‘Madge is such an eccentric girl!" ‘How so?” “Why, I took her to the horse show last night and before we'd been there ten min- utes she made me take her around to look jure Sign of Age. From the Indianapolis Journal. “I never realized how I was getting along in years,” sighed Miss Manyseasons, “until last week. I received two proposals of marrioge from boys of not over nine- “Say, is there a fellar with a wooden leg Lancewood decided to ignore the call, but| by the name of Smith livin’ her?” Helen said: “What's the name of his other leg?” | that they are rot to be shaken in their PRESIDENT’S CHANCE The Annual Message is a Medium for Reaching the Public, INTERVIEWERS AT THE WHITE HOUSE All the Presidents Have Talked More or Less for Publication. MR.CLEVELAND’S EXPERIENCE —_—_e Written for The Evening Star. T IS PROVIDED IN the Constitution of the United States that the President “shall, from time to time, give to Con- gress information of fPthe state of the Union and recom- mend to their con- ly Vsideration such W/ measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.” ‘There is no clause in the Con- stitution and no provision of the law which requires the President to communicate with Congress on this or that day; but it has becom? a custom for the President to make one of his communications at the time when Congress assembles in special or regular session, So well recognized is this custom that when we speak of “the President's message” it is understood com- monly that we mean the message sent to Congress by the President at the begin- ning of a congressional session. There may be many other messages from the President recommending particular pieces of legislation, or explaining vetoes, but “the President's message is the annual message—the message written usually in late November, to be sent to the Senate and House on the first Monday or the first Tuesday in December. This address of the President to Con- gress is awaited with much interest, often with an eagerness which touches the peo- ple of all classes of society, and particular- ly the people in all branches of trade. The President of the United States is not the maker of the laws, nor is he the guide set up for Congress in the road to law mak- ing. But the policy of an administration is recognized always as having a distinct influence with Congress, and the expression of the President's views is an indication of the attitude he will assume toward this or that legislation if it is laid before him for approval. Independent as they assume to be, the members of the two houses of Con- gress are influenced very greatly by a knowledge cf what the President may do with the veto privilege. Not infrequently Senators state in their public speeches judgment by “what may be done in a other piace,” as they express it. Yet it a matter of very recent political history that legislation is influenced very largely by the President's attitude toward it. One of the most conspicuous instances of this was the failure of the Senate to pass a free silver measure at the time the so- called “Sherman” iaw was enacted. There was no doubt of the existence of a freo silver majority in the Senate at that time. But members of his party had been to the President and learned that he would op- pose free silver legislation by every con- stitutional means in his power, and party expediency demanded that the ‘republicans should not go on record through their rep- resentative in the White House as op- posed to free coinage. The President's Chance. In this way the expression of the Presi- dent's views becomes of importance to the members of Congress and to the countr’ It often anticipates legislation or gives a certain assurance that legislation of this cr that kind will not be enacted with the President's assistance. The message h. &@ news value, too. In the last annual mos- sage of President Cleveland was the story of a treaty which had been negotiated se- cretly by the Secretary of State. The first information about this treaty went to the country through the President's mes- sage. Beyond this, the message contuins a careful review of the condition of busi- ness in the executive departments; and it is in soma degree a political document, for it defends or explains the course of the de- partment chiefs in carrying out the Presi- dent's policy during the year which has just closed. It supplies to the President al- most the cnly means of reaching the peo- ple; for while Presidents have given in- terviews to the press from time to ume (and Mr. Cleveland is no exception to the rule), it is not a common thing for the President to be interviewed; and too often those who claim to speak for him when he is being abused are not his best de- fenders. So it happens sometimes that the President’s defense against public criticism is reserved for his annual message. The Newspaper Interview, The messages of a President have boen known to possess a commercial value—as when some great financial question was in the balance and the country was waiting for an indication of the course likely to be pursued by Congress. It is said that one of the messages of Andrew Jackson would have brought $25,000 in Wall street. On several occasions the message has been ob- tained prematurely for publication by some newspaper or newspapers at great cost. Its value then depended less on its con- tents than on the rivalry between pub- lishers to beat each other tn the circula- tion of the news. There is not likely to be much competition to obtain copies of the message which President Cleveland is now writing at his country place, Wood- 1 ley ause he has defined his ‘position so recently on the great political questions that the substonce of the document could almost be written for him by one who was familiar with his public acts and expres- sions, But Mr. Cleveland has a happy faculty of filling his public documents with strong phrases which command auentioa and attract comment; and there is lixely to be entertainment’ in his forthcoming me which will make It interesting vo his party friends and party foes as well. Speaking of presidential interviews re- calls the fact that Mr. Cleveland has not given himself into the hands of the inter- viewer since his unfortunate experience in New York when the reporter claimed that Mr. Cleveland simply forgot himself and spoke too freely, and Mr, Cleveland as- serted that he had been misquoted grossly, Before that time Mr. Cleveland had given interviews to several men. He never took to it very kindly. I recall the account given me In conversation by T. C. Craw- ford of the first interview with Mr. Clev land obtained after his inauguration. Mr, Crawford represented a paper which Mr. Cleveland did not like, but which Mr. La- mont, I fancy, was inclined to conoiliate. Mr. Crawford had asked Mr. Lamont sev- eral times to speak to the President about giving him an interview, and Mr. Lamont had discouraged him. He was sure, ho eald, that the President would not consent to be interviewed. One day Mr. Crawford was at the White House on other business, It was in the fall of 1885, following Mr. Cleveland's inauguration, Revised the Copy. Incidentally Mr. Crawford brought up the matter of the interview. “Why don’t you go in and see him yourself?” said Mr, Lamont. “He's in the next room.” “All right,” said Mr. Crawford, and in he went. The President was in a pleasant mood, and Mr, Crawford sat down to a conyersa- tion with him. Presently he broached the subject of the interview. Mr. Cleveland was much opposed to it. It was undigni- fied, he said. Mr. Crawford assured him that other Presidents had not thought so, and quoted the cases of those whom he had interviewed. Finally the President was won over, and he asked what Mr. Crawford wanted to know. The interview was in the nature of a conversation, in which the President spoke very freely of a great many things. When Mr. Craw- ford arose to go, the President said: “You will not print anything without letting me gee it,” and Mr. Crawford acquiesced. The interview was written on the typewriter, and the copy was taken to the White House the next day. ‘The President put aside the other busi- are 60 many people feeling weak and run down at this season of WHAT? om the cause of HOW? can they ges well? THE ANSWER is easily given. It is correct because ft ie based on facts. Peoy their blood ts out always feel weak when of order; when ft gets thia and watery or clogged with impurities, Diseased Kidneys make bad blood. The way to get well fs to put the kidneys in a healthy condition and purify the blood. ‘There is only one reliable, one certain cure for diseased kidneys and impure blood, and that ts Warner's Safe Cure, This faet is acknowledged by the world’s greatest physicians and by thousands whom it bas made strong and well. Warner's Safe Cure is popular because It has stood the test of years. 4s nothing like it for removing bad tastes mouth, irregularity the bowels, diso: stomach, heartburn, coated tongue, pains int head and body, and um: ther distressing sy toms which make life miserable. As a strength and health giver the great Safe Cure is aud al- Ways has been unsurpassed. of ness on his desk and went over the report of the conversation. In a fow places he used his penctl, but he always prefaced a correction or an alteration of any kind with, “You won’t mind my changing th! sentence, will you?” or some other form of apology. ‘The corrections were few. When they were completed Mr. Crawford took the precious manuscript to the t xp office, and went with it to the operating room himself. ‘There it was divided into “takes” and put on several wires, so that the sending occupied a rather short space of time. But the manuscript was not marked or injured in any way, and when the message had been sent the original was given back to Mr. Crawford, and he has preserved it among the relics of his experience as a Washington correspondent. After that Mr. Cleveland gave several interviews to different people connected with newspapers, but he was always at his best in an interview when he was sur- prised into saying something. ‘That, in fact, 1s the only fresh and interesting interview, as a rule, When a -nan pre- pares himself to be interviewed, ond weighs his words in advance, he is apt to be too cautious, and so the interview is dry and uninteresting. Grant and Hayes. President Harrison was not an casy man to interview, and about the only tmport- ant interview which he gave to a corre- spondent during his term was one which his private secretary afterward claimed was wholly unauthorized. Arthur had had an experience as a New York politician which had taught him the value of the interview, and where he could use it to his own advantage. Hayes was a man who always tried to Le courteous to news- paper men, and who was much respected by them, but he was too reserved to get along with them well during his term in the White House. However, he was easy to interview before and after his term in the White House. Grant was an easy talker when he wanted to say anything, but he was not emotional as Mr. Cleve- land is, and he was not to be surprised into saying that he would rather havo left unsaid. One correspondent who inter- viewed him was grieved when Grant, look- ing over the copy, sald: “You have been putting milk and water in here,” and- changed the phrasing, which the corre- spondent had moditied, for fear that it was plainer than the President intended it to be. Lincoln was always accessible to news- paper men with whom ne had @ personal acquaintance, and never hesitated to let them quote him where it was possible to do so without injuring public interests. Thoush Mr. Hayes was so hard to tn- terview, he was once considerate enough to give’ a correspondent a synopsis of his message to Congress from memory because the rival of this correspondent had obtained a copy of it. Few of the Presidents woul have done that. When the manager o’ one of the press associations went to John Sherman's house during his incumbency as Secretary of the Treasury and told him that a copy of his annual report was out and would be published in the morming.Atr, Sherman absolutely declined to help t! press association by permitting the use 0} the copy of the report which the associa- tion had had in its office for several da; awaiting the order to release {t for publi- cation, The report of the Secretary of the ‘Treasury has often been considered as val- uable a document as the message of the President, Some Possible Leaks. Just how the Hayes message got to the newspapers in advance of its delivery to Congress is uncertain. There are many ways in which messages or parts of mes- sages have become public before their time. One very important clause in the message of one of the Presidents was given to me by a member of the cabinet with whom I had a very slight business ac- quaintance. I called to see him in regard to another matter; he was full of what the President had been reading to the cabinet meeting from his message that afternoon, and during our conversation he boiled over, Much of the message leaks out in cot way almost every year, for the President usually reads a great deal of his message to members of his cabinet for their crit- icism. There is always the possibility of a leak in the process of printing, for the manuscript of the message goes to the government printing office and ts put in type some days before Congress Eneets, GEORGE GRANTHAM B. ae Western Enterprise. From the Atlanta Constitution. A curlous case of house moving was re- cently witnessed in Oregon, A man who owned a residence at Seattle which cost him $5,000 to erect moved to Olympia and did not have sufficient funds to build an- other house. He bought a lot and conclud- ed to remove the building he owned at Seattle. Every one laughed at him, but fe persisted. Rolling the house down to river, he loaded it upon @ scow and it was soon at Olympia, a distance of about sixt) miles. Then he had it rolled upon his lo! and, strange to say, not @ timber was strained, nor even a piece of furviture broken, although he had not removed the contents before starting the house upon ite unusval journey. . atest a A Scientific Declaration. From Le Baillage. He—"Mademolselle, you are the star of the evening!” "You are the first to tell He—“Then allow me to claim my reward as an astronomer, Young Lady: hat do you mean?” He—“rhat 1s, to give my name to the discovered star.” ee Must Have Rest. From Puck. Doctor—“No; you are not looking well.” Fair Patient—“Well, doctor, what would you advise me to do?’ Doctor—“Marry him or break the en- gagement. You need a rest.” —_———__+e+____ Just the Place for It. From the Dallas Times-Herald, Stranger—"Seems to me this crowded street is a queer place for a bospital.” Native—Well, I don’t know. Two trol- ley Ines meet here.’ Acream of tartar baking pow- der. Highest of all in leavening strength.—Latest United States Governmen Food Report Royal Baking Powder Oo, 106 WallSt, BY.