Evening Star Newspaper, February 9, 1895, Page 12

12 THE STORY OF CONKY STILES The Unique Use of His Knowledge of the Bible. Influence of a Lively Theological Dis- cussion In a Country District— Appropriate References. From the Chicago Record. As near as I could find out, nobody ever knew how- Conky Stiles came to know as much of the Bible as he did. Thirty years ago pecple as a class were much better acquainted with the Bible than folk ere nowadays, and there wasn’t another one of ‘em in the whole Connecticut valley, from the. Canada line to the sound, that could stand up ‘longside of Conky Stiles and quote Scripture. Well, he knew the whole thing by heart, from Genests, chap- ter 1, to the amen at the end of the Reve- lation of St. John, the divine; that’s the whole business in a nutshell! His name wasn’t Conky; we called him Conky for short. His real names was Silas Stiles, but one time at a Sunday school convention Mr. Hubbell, the minis- ter, spoke of him as a “veritable concord- ance of the Holy Scriptures," and so we boys undertook to call him Concordance, but bimeby that name got whittled down to Conky, and Conky stuck to him all the rest of his life; not a bad name for him, neither, as names go; heap more dignified than Si! : My father always insisted that Conky got his start in the Scriptures in this way: Conky’s folks lived for about five years (while Conky was a boy) in the old Ransom house. Their next neighbors were the Cooleys, and just over across the road lived the Kelseys. Maybe you've heard of the Cooley-Kelsey debate? No? Funny, {sn’t it, how soon falks forget events and epochs and things! Fifty years ago nothin’ else but the Cooley-Kelsey debate was talked of in Hampshire county, and yet here we are livin’ in this intelligent state of Illinois, and it’s dollars to doughnuts that ha!f our people never heard of Lawyer Kelsey or of Deacon. Cvoley! You see, the deacon was high up In the Congregational Church, and he believed in “paptyzo,” which is the Greek for the Congregational doctrine of — sprinkling. Lawyer Kelsey had never been converted and had never made a profession, but, havin’ a brother who was a Baptist min- ister in Pennsylvania, he was counted with the Baptists, too, and I guess he was a Baptist if he was anything, although, like as not, he’d have said he was a heathen if he thought he could get up an argument by sayin’ it, for of all the folks you ever saw Lawyer Kelsey was the worst for keepin’ things stirred up. One time Deacon Cooley and Lawyer Kelsey come together an’ locked horns on that word “baptyzo,” Lawyer Kelsey maintainin’ that the word wasn't or shouldn't be “baptyzo,” but “baptidzo,” and, as you know, of course, there ts as much difference between “bap- tyzo” and “baptidzo” as there is between a fog and a thunder shower. Well, for about six months they had It up hill and down dle. in all the meetin’ houses, and school houses, and vestry rooms, and town halls in the country, and it did beat all-how much learnin’ they got out of the books and dictionaries, and what long sermons they made, and what a sensation there was among the unbelievers as well as the elect! I guess they'd have been arguin’ yet if the freshet hadn’t come an’ distracted public attention by carryin’ away the Northampton bridge and the Holyoke dam. It happened that while this theological cataclysm was at its height Conky Stiles, being six years old, was born again, and, repentin’ of his sins, made a profession of faith. And from that time he never lapsed or backslided, but was always a conscien- tious and devout follower, Mustrating in daily walks (as Mr. Hubbell, the min- said) those priccless virtues which had illuminated the career of his Grand- mother Cowles, a lady esteemed not more by the elders for her ptety than by the younger folks for her cookies and squash ies. When Conky was eight years old he got the prize at our Sunday school for having committed to memory the most Bible verses in the year, and that same spring he got up and recited every line of the Acts of the Apostles without having to be prompted once. By the time he was twelve years old he knew the whole Bible by heart, and most of the hymn book, too; although as I have said, the Bible was his specialty. Yet he wasn't one of your pale-faced, studious boys; no, sir, not a bit of it! He took just as much consolation in pla: three-old-cat and barn ball and. hockey as any of the rest of us boys, and he could beat us all fishin’, although per- aps that was because he learnt a_new way of spittin’ on his bait from his Uncle Lute Mason, who was considerable of a port in those da Conky was always hearty and cheery; we all felt good when he was around. We never minded that way he had of quotin’ things from the Bible; we'd got used to ft, and may be {t was a desirable influence. At any rate, we all liked Conky. But perhaps you don’t understand what I mean when I refer to his way of quotin’ the Bible. It was like this: Conky, we'll ay, would be goin’ down the road and I'd come out of the house and holler: ‘Hello, there, Conky! Where be you goin Then he'd say “John xxi., 3"—that would be all he'd eay, and that would be enough; for it gave us to understand that he was goin’ a-fishin’. Conky never made a mistake; nis quota- tions were always right; he always hit the chapter and the verse sure pop the first time. The habit grew on him ag he got older. ssociating ‘with Conky for fifteen or wenty minutes wasn't much different from eadin’ the Bible for a couple of days, ex- ept that there wasn’t any manual labor about it. I guess he’d have been a minis- ter if the war hadn't come along and boiled It all. In the fall of 1862 there was a war meet- In’ in the town hall, and Elijah Cutler made a spesch urgin’ the men folks to come forward and contribute their serv- lces—their lives, if need be—to the cause of freedom and right. We were all keyed up with excitement, for next to Wendell Fhillips and Henry Ward Beecher I guess Elijah Cutler was the greatest orator that ever lived. While we were shiverin’ and tin’ for somebody to lead off, Conky Btiles rose up and says: “First Kings, xix., 20,” says he, and with that he put on his cap and walked out of the meetin’. Let me, I pray thee, kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow thee.” ‘That's what Conky said—or as good as yaid—and that’s what he meant, too. He didn’t put off his religion when he put on his uniform. Conky Stiles, soldier or civilian, was alw a livin’, walkin’ opedy of the Bible, a human com- pendium of psalma and proverbs and texts; and I had that confidence In him that I'd have bet he wrote the Bible himself if I hadn't known better and to the contrary! We were with McClellan a long spell. There wes a heap of sickness among the boys, for wa weren't used to the climate, and most of us pined for the comforts of home. Lookin’ back over the thirty years that le between this time and that, I see one figure loomin’ up, calm and bright and beautiful in the midst of fever and suf- ferin’ and privation and death; I see a homely, earnest face, radiant with sym- athy and lovs and hope,and I hear Conky tiles’ voice again speakin’ comfort and cheer to all about him. Woe all loved him; he stood next to Mr. Lincoln and Gen. Me- Clellan in the hearts*of everybody in the regiment! They sent a committee down from our town one Thanksgiving time to bring @ lot of good things and to see how soon we were going to captura Richmond. Mr. Hubbell, the minister, was one of them. Deacon Cooley was another. There was talk at one time that Conky had a soft spot In his heart for the deacon’s eldest girl, Try- hena, but I always allowed that he paid § much attenticn to the other daughter, Tryphosa, as ke did to her elder sister, and I guess he hadn't any more hankerin’ for one than He had for the other, for when the committee com Conic: Deacon Cooley: bye, & says he, “Romans, xvi, 1 ‘We had to look it up in the Bible before we knew what he meant. “Salute Try- pa and Tryphosa, who lebor in the rd’’—that was Conky’s message to .the Cooley girls. He wrote @ letter once to Mr. Carter, who was one of the selectmen, and he put this postscript to {t: “Romans xvi, 6,” You 28, Mr. Carter’s wife had been Conky’s jundgy school teacher, and Conky did not lorgét to “greet Mary, who bestowed much labor on us. Down at Elnathan Jones’ fhe other day I heard Elna’ feneral store tell how THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1895-TWENTY PAGES, Conky clerked it for him a spell, and how one day he says tu Conky: “That Baker bill has been runnin’ on for more’n six weeks. We can’t do business unless we get our money. Conky, I wish you'd just kind o’ spur Mr. Baker up a little.” So Conky sat down on the stool at the desk and dropped Mr. Baker a short epis- tle to this effect: “Romans 1, 14; Psalms xxii, 11; Psalms exiii, 6.” Next day who should come in but Mr. Baker, and he al- lowed that that letter had gone straighter to his conscience than any sermon would have gone, and he paid up his bill and bought a kit of salt mackerel into the bar- gain, so Elnathan Jones says. I could keep on tellin’ things like this, day in and night out, for lots of just such stories are told about Conky all over Hampshire county now; some of ‘em doubtless are true and some of ’em doubt- less ain’t; there's no tellin’; but it can’t be denied that most of ’em have the genuine Conky flavor. The histories don’t say anything about the skirmish we had with the rebels at Churchill's bridge along in May of ’64, but we boys who were there remember it as the toughest fight in all our expertence. They were just desperate, the rebels were, and—well, we were mighty glad when night came, for a soldier can retreat in the dark with fewer chances of interruption. Out of our company of 150 men only sixty were left! You can judge from that of what the fighting was at Churchill's bridge. When they called the roll In camp next day Conky Stiles wasn’t there. Had we left him dead at the bridge, or was he, wounded, dying the more awful death of hunger, thirst and neglect? “By —! says Lew Bassett, “let’s go back for Conky!" ‘That was the only time I ever heard an oath without a feelin’ of regret. A detachment of cavalry went out to reconnoiter. Only the ruin of the preced- ing day remained where we boys had stood and stood and stood—only to be repulsed at last. Bluecoats and graycoats lay side by side, and over against one another, in the reconciling peace of death. Occasion- ally a maimed body, containing just a remnant of life, was found, and one of these crippled bodies was what was left of Conky. ‘When the surgeon saw the minie hole, here in his thigh,-anad the saber gash, here in his temple, he shook his head, and we knew what that meant. Lew Bassett, a man who had never been to meetin’ in all his life, and who could swear a new and awful way every time— Lew Bassett says, ‘No, Conky Stiles ain't goin’ to die, for I shan't let him!” and he bent over and lifted up Conky’s head and held it, so, and wiped away the trickles of blood, and his big, hard hands had the tenderness of a. gentle, lovin’ woman’s. We heard Conky’s voice once and only once again. For when, just at the last, he opened his eyes and saw that we were there, he smiled,<feeble-like, and the grace of the Book triumphed once more within him, and he says—it seemed almost like a whisper, he spoke so faint and low: “‘Good- bye, boys; Second Timothy, tv, 7.” And then, though his light went out, the sublime truth of hts last words shone from his white, peaceful face. “I have fought @ good fight, I have fin- ished my course, I have kept the faith!” TABLE LINEN OUTFITS. What Two Brides Bought and What They Paid. From the New York Times. ‘A young couple whe went to housekcep- ing in the far west not many years since, but who had nelther the capital nor the Inclination to make a house fetich of their table linen, contented themselves with the following outfit: Four two-yards-long tablecloths, at 75 cents per yard... Two dozen napkins, dozen .. One dozen fr per dozen........ One_one-and-a-half-yard-long pad, at 75 cents per yard One two-and-a-half-yard-long table- cloth, at $1.50 per yard One dozen fine dinner napkins, at $2.50 per dozen.. table One fringed tablecloth, 2 1-2 yards In contrast to this may be quot table outfit of a recent Manhattan bride, viz.: Eight 2 1-2 by 2 1-2 yard tablecloths Two 2 1-2 by 3 yard tablecloth: One 2 1-2 by’S yard tablecloth One 2 1-2 by 5 yard tablecloth. 5 Eight dozen dinner napkins (dinner size) 100 Two doze ner size) 44 Two dozen tea doilies. 10 Two dozen fruit doilies. oy, One Iuncheon cloth and napkins. . = Twelve carving cloths. ‘Three table pads..... Total .. And this did not include the marking, which was done in most elaborate and pro- portionately costly embroider: ————— A MODEL’S EXPERIENCE On the Occasion of Her First Appear- ance in the “Altogether.” From the Boston Post. “Yes, it was awful at first,” she replied, In answer to a question. “I thought I should die, and I sort of made the plunge all at ence, too. “It was this way. There were one or two artists in the room when I went behind the screen to get ready; two or three more came in, and I thought I never could do it. { was ail ready, but I did not come out. I stood there. Then I began to jump into my clothes as fast as I could. I was go- Ing to run home. “One of the artists, who knew it was my first time and suspected from the length of time 1 took what was the matter, asked me if I was not nearly ready. “I told him, in a trembling voice, I could ‘They all laughed at me, and they said it was merely a matter of business, and I might as well get over my embarrassment first as last. “It was quite dark in the room, and this, tegether with a little silken scarf they eS over to me, relieved my feelings a rifle. I fancied they could not see very plainly. I wound the scarf carefully around myself, and then came out hesitatingly, not quite decided yet whether I should not run for the door and home, silk scarf and al 1. “I stood up on the platform, where the model sits or stands, and felt comparative- ly secure, as it grew darker all the time. Suddenly they turned the electric lights full upon me, and I thought I should die. Oh! you can't imagine what an awful feel- ing it was. Finally I had to even drop my bit of silk scarf that I had clung to Ilke a drowning man to a straw. Do you- know, really, I did not feel so bad without it as I had trying to hide behind it. “They commented and criticised me as though I had merely been a statue or a painting in the most matter-of-fact way imaginable, s9 gradually I forgot my self- consciousness and began to take an inter- est In what they were saying.” ——_+e+ His Explanation. Frem the New York Weekly. Mrs. De Neat—“It seems to me that for a man who claims to deserve charity you have a very red nose.” Moldy Mike—“Yes, mum; the cheap soaps that us poor people has to use fs very hard on the complexion, mum.” ~ see —___~ Usurped Fashions. From Life. “If there’s anything I dislike,” sald one citizen, “it's to see a man effeminate in his attire.” “It 1s unpleasant,” was the reply; “and yet about the only way for him to keep from being so these days is to put cn petticoats.” aden — An African Engagement. Brom Life. OLD FURNITURE TRADES The Deacon's Wife Was Tempted to Dis- pose of Old China. A Transaction Involving an Old Family Clock—The Deacon Was Happy: From the New York Times. The last village entered and devastated by the old furniture hunter was Hop Meadow village, Conn. This was partly on account of its inaccessibility—though that would have been a spur to some hunters, and partly to the very primitive manner of life of the surrounding region, which yielded nothing worth gathering for the adornment of city homes, and partly to its incorspicuosity—to apply a long word to a small matter—for it is marked on no map of the stgte, is twenty-seven miles from a railroad, and, in fact, gets mail but thrice @ week, when Aaron Damon, the tax col- lector, drives his buckboard ten miles over the hills to Bountiful, which has a daily stage from Charter Oak, on the railway. The first person to whom the tempter appeared in Hop Meadow was a woman, Sarah, the wife of Deacon Wallace. But unlike her first mother, she kept .her mouth shut and did not even offer a bite of the apple to her husband. In her heart she planned a magnificent surprise for him. The tempter came in the person of Aaron Damon, and assailed her thus: “Mornin’, Mis’ Wallace.” “Mornin’, Aaron. Ain’t got no bill against us this mornin’, hev ye?’ jocosely. “Haw, haw, haw! No, Mis’ Wallace. Got somethin’ you'll like better, maybe. You "member my wife's half sister, she thet married a gentleman down t’ New York, and hed thet pindlin’ little boy up here two summers ago? An’ she come up an’ staid @ week? An’ you give her baked apples pee milk here one evenin? "Member of ‘Yes, indeedy. What’s the word from her? Hope that poor little boy’s gittin’ along. It was techin’ to see the little fel- ler worm himself along the fence and git in to our orchard when they wan't no one lockin’! Bright boy. Land! And his ma— well, co’se I remember of her. What's she dene?” “She ain’t done nothin’ yet, but she al- ways ’membered them baked apples an’ milk, an’ how nice you an’ deac’n was that night. She often speaks of it in letters—"” ‘Oh, that wan't nothin’ great what we done.”” Mrs. Wallace twisted on one foot, and her eyes shone with pleasure that her good deeds had been remembered. “Well, she ain't forgot, and she wanted to do something to pay ye. And she sends up word about them old blue dishes of yourn. She says if you'd like she'll send up a whole set of new white ones and swap, as she says. That's what she'd like to do for ye Mrs. Wallace's face shone with pleasure. “I guess she can have ‘em and welcome!” she cried. “I've ben sick of the sight of them dishes for forty year, and my mother before me. You tell her she can have ’em-- I'd a most give 'em away—and she needn't be particular about what sort of dishes she sends for them, neither.” “Oh, she'll do the square thing. She's that kind,” Aaron called back, as he drove away. Mrs. Wallace kept still about her luck. She looked plumb full of importance and yeunger and happier than she had been since her hair began to turn. And finally the new dishes came and the old ones were taken away, and the table was laid for supper with the white ware, and the dea- con was brought into its presence with cone expectation of pleasure by his loving wife. Her eyes were upon his face, and his suc- cessive emotions communicated themselves to her; thus, she was surprised, bewildered, astounded and chagrined. “What has hap- pened, Sarah, to your chiny he said, when he became able to say anything. Sarah told of the exchange that had been made, and as the deacon’s face fell the corners of her mouth drooped. But not through anticipation of unpleasant com- ment; the deacon was gentleness itself in his family; but she saw she had committed scme blunder, and she waited to hear it ex- plained. “I must say I'm a leetle disap’int. rah,” he said. “Not that it’s any ¢ ycurs—you done the best weuldn’t have know d, Sa- ult of I any better myself think Aaron’s ben yisterday. But I don’ quite squar’ weth “Oh, yes, he ha: she Interposed. to fault, it’s his half si: She showed a woma criminate her sex, and maintained stoutly that Aaron Had been honest. “But what is baa 8 she asked. “Why, Aaron brought th’ mail over f'om Bountiful today, an’ there was a letter f'om my brother to Hartford, tellen’ me he wanted s here the deacon fumbled for the letter, and finally preduced it and read through his spectacles, holding the page at arm's length: “He say: ‘All this old fur- niture and china is coming hack into fashion. You had better keep all you have and pick up all you can. Don’t let any strangers fool you into letting them have it for next to nothing, for it’s worth good money.’” He stopred reading, folded the letter, and put it back in his pocket, all the time looking at his wife over the top of his spectacles. “So ve see, Sarah, T shouldn't be surprised if thet half sister- in-law of Aaron’s got a thunderin’ good bargain off ye.” “Well, I don’t care, poor sort o’ return to apples an’ milk.” “Don't ye sey ancther word, Sarah,” he consoled her. “Say nothin’ about the let- ter from my brother. Mebbe we'll get even.” The next day the deacon got into his chaise and rode down the road through the Meadow to the house of Aarcn Damon. Aaron was at home—a long, bony New Englander, sitting on the doorsill, doubled up like a pocket knife. He opered out ofa the deacon drove in and welcomed im. “I can’t stop long,” the deacon apolo- gized. “Thought I ju’t neighbor ye a_min- ute’ in passin’ an’ say how tickled Sarah is with them white dishes. They make th’ Sarah sobbed; “it’s make for our baked table look cleaner scmehow, an, actilly light up th’ old kitche ‘hey be an improvement, now, ain’t they?” Aaron responded, promptly. It seemed to the deacon to be an honest sen- timent, and as such was well suited to his purpose of “getting even.” “I got the old ones all packed an’ am gcin’ over t’ Bounti- ful weth ’em today. Beats me, though, "Il do weth those old blue things ew York.” likely they'll use ’em ¢vhen they got company,” the deacon suggested slyly. “Well, I should guess not, deac’n,”” Aaron laughed. “Mebbe she’s gettin’ savin’, and wants ‘em for ev said the deacon. ye see, Sarah's powerfully sot up over them white ones. She’s ben wantin’ a clock in the kitchen for ten year, and now she says she don’t see how she’s goin’ to git along wethout one. She s s to me this mornin’: ‘Deacon, I really must have things in hetter shape now.’ Well, I ‘mem- bered of that old long clock your father ust to have, an’ mebby that would do, fixed up a leetle. I ain’t said a word to Saran— theught I'd surprise her weth it. I s'pose ye still got it, eh?” “Ben up garret there twenty year,” Aaron replied quickly. “If ye want it, deac’n, ye can't take it away any too soon to suit "pose it'll run?” said the deacon doubt- fully. ain't any doubt of it.”” “What's it wuth to ye?” Nothin’. Glad to let ye have it.” “Oh, I wouldn't take it wethout payin’ a fair price.” The deacon got out of the chaise and followed Aaron Damon up to the garret, where the old clock lay on its side under the eaves. “Take it along, deac’r,” Aaron insisted don’t want it wethout payin’.” ‘They ain't no price on i 3ut take somethin’, won't ye?” “What do ye want to give fur it?” “What'll ye take?” “Make an offer.” “Set a figger.”” They looked at each other in silence. Aaron's gaze turned to the clock, silent, inscrutable—then returned to the deacon’s face, as calm and immovable as the clock’s. “Oh, well, say half a dollar!” said Aaron. The deacon hesitated. “It'll cost some- thin’ to have it cleaned an’ set runnin’,” he ventured. Aaron was silent. ‘Well, I'll take it at half a dollar,” he added, and the bargain was concluded. = The deacon took it home, and Sarah looked at it approvingly. “What did ye have to pay him for it?” she asked. ‘My brother said in bis latter not to pay more’n $10," said the deacon. “I ’magine that’s a profit of $450 to me.” “Ye done well, deacon,” said Sarah, ap- provingly. “That makes up for the blue dishes, don’t it?” | “It does kinder take th’ the deacon. « curs’ off,” said ———_-+ee___-—_ “LANGUAGE OF TRADE. Sie Words and Phrases That Don’t De- scribe the Things Referred To. From the New York Sun. “Your cloth*is better than that,” said the tailor to the customer, placing two Pleces of worsted diagonal side by side. “What's the: difference?” asked the cus- tomer. 2 “Well,” said’ the tailor, gcod part cotton.” “And mine’s all wool?’ asked the cus- tomer. “Yours fs mostly wool,” replied the tailor, looking at the customer with evident sur- prise at his innocence. The cant phrase ‘“‘all wool and a yard wide” has come to mean half cotton and twenty-seven inches wide. Some persons believe that the difference between phrase and fact is to be attributed to the high tariff on woolens. and worsteds, but such discrepancies run through all branches cf trade, whether they are affected by the tariff or not. Every real thing has come through modern ingenuity to have an ad- mirable counterfeit bearing the real thing’s name, and so meaningless have names be- come in trade that the retailer sells the counterfeit under the name of the real with little or no consciousness of untruth- fulness. Male customers usually fail to derstand this, end are outraged on discov- ering that the thing does not. correspond to its name, but women who are barn shop- pers long ago accepted the situation and adopted the false nomenclature. They do not resent as dishonest the conduct of the grocer that offers “fresh eggs’ at so much and “strictly fresh new laid eggs” at 50 per cent more. Every woman knows that the shops sell for silk material that has a cleverly made surface of pure silk on a back of cotton. Women judge not by the name, but by the price, the “feel’’ and other indications to which men are blind. It was discovered a few years ago that many imported silks were made with only a small percentage of real silk along with clay for weight and soap for luster, while American manufacturers were turning out the real thing and finding it despised. There is a regularly recognized set of substitutes in every department of trade, just as the druggists have substitutes that are made to serve when some unimportant ingredient in a prescription is not at hand. The word porcelain has actually lost its true significance, save, perhaps, in the fine arts, and cooking utensils are glibly sold as “porcelain lined” that have merely an inner surface of coarse glazed clay. A Philadelphian invented a good many years ago a sort of white glass for lamp shades and called it hot-cast porcelain, and now many forms of white glass are sold 03 porcelain. It has ceased to be a lie, because all the world knows that the term fs pure- ly conventional. ‘The phrase “antique oak” has gradually come to mean, in the language of the cheap furniture makers, stained ash, or even poorer material, and the rug import- ers have contributed to trade the verb “to a with {ts past participle ‘‘an- the form commonly used. ‘“Ma~ will soon mean in the language of the cheap furniture trade any wood stained into a distant imitation of new mahogany. Of course, the latter, in turn, is stained to imitate old makogahy, and is sold as such. Celluloid has become a counterfeit for al- most anything, and its protean devices are immeasurable. It goes as often as not as ivory, and doubtless there are shopkeepers that sell it as such with no sense of fraud. The terminology of the hardware trade 1s in a chaotic state by reason of the way in which counterfeits have obtained cur- rency. ‘teel batchets,” made of iron, are sold at 25 cents, and the substi- tution of iron for steel runs all through the trade. The, merchant gauges his cus- tomer, and offers the counterfeit or the real, as the case seems to demand, any sense of dishonesty. Elect iron goes for bronzg, and cast iron goes for wrought fron. The fraud is so transparent to any one buying with his eyes open that it scarcely seems: worth quarreling about. The merchant acknowledges the nature of the counterfeit when pressed, and takes no shame in the acknowledgment. Perhaps some of them never see the real thing, and are innocent of even constructive fraud. When it comes to leather goods the same system of counterfeiting prevails. You may get what is technically called an ‘alliga- tor skin” traveling bag at any price you wish to pay, but no man with an eye in his head Is ever deceived by the transparent device, and the dealers deem it an innocent trick to please persons in search of what they cannot buy. You find the far east side shops a gro- tesque mimicry of fashionable shops in Broadway and 5th avenue. Things in the latter are reproduced in counterfeit in the former at prices to suit customers. It is possible to furnish an east side house and clothe an east side family in the queer- est counterfeits of the articles that go to fuenish a fashionable home and clothe its inmates. The thing long ago ceased to be a reprehensible fraud because it was too transparent, and when the east side cus- tomer wishes the real thing he pays the real price without grumbling. The lan- guage of trade has ceased to be a lie and has become a huge jok ——__+e+____ “Tips” IN ENGLAND. “the other is Gamekeepers Scorn Anything Less Than a Five-Pound Note. From the London Dally News. ! A retired Anglo-Indian officer has -pub: lished his notions on the subject of “tips. Thackeray’s Col. Newcome, it will be re- membered, made a sort of royal progress throvgh England on his return from a long sojourn in the east rewarding post boys with gold and making waiters happy with handfuls of silver. This reminds the Anglo- Indian officer that there are no tippers so hardened and profuse as Anglo-Indian tip- pers. It is so novel for them to be waited on by white faces that they feel inclined to reward the most trifling service. They are, moreover, pleased to be at home again, and touched with the civility they. met with in their journeyings to and fro their hands are everlastingly in their pockets. ‘The retired Indian officer does not object to tips in the abstract. but he enters a pro- test against the giving of gold to any do- mestic in a house where one has been staying. It spoils the market, and is_un- fair to those with slender purses. Five shillings (he considers) is a sufficient re- ward for a little extra trouble. This ts very well; but what about the gamekeep- ers—a large class, as some of us know to our cost--who are accustomed to return the shooting guest’s sovereign with a po- lite intimation that they never accept “less than paper.”” ——__—__+ ee. A Sensible Old Lady. From the Amusing Journal. A recently published book on rallway systems contains this new version of the old story of an aged lady’s first journey by rail. As the trai was pitched down an embankment, and"she crawled from be- neath the wreckage, she asked a passen- . “Is this Stamford?” . replied the man, who was ya piece of timber, “this is "sa catastrophe “Then I hadn't pinned down not Stamford; “Oh!” cried the lady. oughter got off hert a, Reprehensible Extravagance. From Mons. Calpe. Clerk (who has had sickness in the fam- ily, to his employer)—“I would respectfully ask you for an-advance. Yesterday I had to pay my doctor's bill, amounting to 130 marks.” Principal—“Ah! my dear fellow, the old story, I'm afraid—Iiving vastly beyond your means!” From Life. Meee, “Hi, Bill! Quick! just gone under! “Well, let him alone. till next Monday.” he school teacher hag We don’t need mm | SCENTS AND COLORS Experiments Showing the Preferences of Oertain Animals, Some Birds Delight in Bright Colors— Leopards and Lions Have a Fancy for Perfumes, ° From the New York Sun. Cc. J. Cornish, a London naturalist and writer, who has recently been making ex- periments regarding the senses of the ani- mals at the zoological gardens in Regen’ Park, has set down in his book, “Life at the Zoo,” among other interesting things, the effect on the animals of bright colors and sweet scents. It has already been told in the Sun how Mr. Cornish, with a vio- linist, went through the zoo testing the musical capacities of the inhabitants, to the huge delight of the bears and the wild boar, the disgust of the elephant, and the chagrin of all wolf kind. His color and scent experiments, while attended with results less positive than the musical trials, nevertheless brought out some in- teresting facts. Some experiments on bees by Sir John Lubbock suggested to him the trials of color. Sir John Lubbock had written of the effects of different hues on bees, and had shown to his own satisfaction that these insects evinced an appreciation of the varying colors as arranged in the spectrum, commencing on the red margin. Mr. Cornish decided to try it on the birds, and the tamest and most artistic birds ready to his hand being the bower birds in Regent’s Park, he chose them for his trials. He says that they seem to follow the bees in their inclinations, showing a preference for red. He writes: “In the west aviary the bower birds build their gallery every spring and decorate it with such articles of vertu as visitors are kind enough to place at their disposal. In the first warm days they begin to collect materials for the bower. The twigs of a birch broom are usually given them for the raw material, and these are soon ar- ranged with astonishing skill into two short incurved hedges, the tops being pulled over to make the bower as nearly like a tunnel as the material admits. If they had a larger allowance of brooms, no doubt the tunnel would be longer. As it is, it is only a section of a gallery. When this is complete nothing makes the birds so happy as presents of bright-colored objects to arrange round the sides of the playground. Unfortunately for the birds, the “mice, which have no esthetic perceptions, but are of a practical turn of mind, steal everything soft which is put in the bower to make nests for their own young. All pieces of colored paper, rags, tinsel, are carried off in the night, or even in the day, so that the birds can only rely for permanent ornament on things not only bright, but hard.” Birds and Colors. One day the experimenter brought e@ number of shreds of paper of various hues, which he scattered about where the bower birds could easily get them. In a short time the birds, perched on convenient branches, were examining the collection, heads knowingly cocked on one side like so many connoisseurs. All of them seemed to make up their minds at the same mo- ment that red was what they must have for their decorations, and with much chat- tering and twittering they swooped down upon the scarlet shreds with such unanim- ity that several quarrels resulted from their haste. Then, having secured each a fair share, they carried their booty back to the gallery and tried its effect, now here, now there, discussing among them- selves the arrangements until satisfied that the result was artistic. After this they went back and picked out some of the other colors, but these didn’t interest them as much. One or two of the birds took a fancy to some bright yellow and decorated with that, but most of them, beyond a general preference for what was brightest, lost interest in the adorning process after all the red was used up. Soon these adornments disappeared under the ravages of the mice, and other ex- periments were tried. These showed that the liking of the birds for what is bright and shining in texture was mare marked than their predilection for bright colors. “Some ingenious . friend,” writes Mr. Cornish, “finding that the mice robbed the birds of their papers and silks, presented them with a number of small glass phials filled with colored shreds, or with tin and brass filings. These were a source of great delignt, and when the supply was further increased by a giozen pretty soll- talre balls, they spent a week in arrang- ing and rearranging their treasure.” = Mr. Cornish didn’t try these color ex- periments on the reptiles. If he ever does perhaps he will be able to answer an anx- fous inquirer, who some time ago wrote to the Sun as follows: Mr. Edit’r deer Sir, I want to kno can ycu Tell me about Frogs wy it is a Frog acks so strange. I have went Fishing for Frogs lots for ther Legs you can sel them. IT have tried to get them with Bate. on a Hook. i tried wurms & Slugs & they wood not bite not a Darn bite. but 1 day 1 see a man get Frogs with red flannil on a Hook & i tried that. 1 had to giv up part of my Shurt but i got Frogs tel you can not Rest. can you tell me wy a Frog wunt ete wurms & Slugs & things that is good to ete for Frogs & will Bite at a red Flannil Shurt & oblige Yrs truely, EZRA JUMP. Loved Perfumes. From colors Mr. Cornish went to scents. Knowing that the feline race 1s particu- larly sensitive to odors, as exemplified in the liking of the cat for catnip, the ex- perimenter first tried the leopards with a ball of wool soaked in lavender water. Of this experiment he writes “The first leopard to which it was of- fered stood over the ball of cotton, shut its eyes, opened its mouth and screwed up its nose, rather like the picture of the gentleman inhaling a scent in’ an adver- tisement. It then lay dowa and held it between its paws, and finished by lying down upon it. Another leopard smelt it and sneezed; then caught the wool in its claws, played with it, then lay on its back and rubbed its head and neck over the scent. It then fetched another leopard which -was asleep in a cage, and the two sniffed it for some time together; and the last comer endei by taking the ball in its teeth, curling its lips well back and in- haling the delightful perfume with half- shut eyes. “This animal was so attracted by the perfume that it couldn’t be induced to give {t up, so another ball was prepared for the lions and cast into the cage where the big lion and lioness were taking their morning walk. Both of them went for it at once, and at the first sniff sat down up- on their haunches and lcoked at it in amazement, after which they looked at each cther and whisked their tails, The idea that {t was a good thing struck both of them at the same time, and they fell upon it like two foot ball players on the leather. The lioness got there first, where- upon her unchivalrous mate drew back and larded a right-paw swing on her jaw that sent her to her corner in a trice. ‘The king of beasts then laid his head on the scented ball and -purred like a distant thunder storm. These lions had been at the Zoo for years and had had time to im- bibe civilized ideas, and perhaps also to acquire a taste for luxuries. The final ex- periment was made with a view to deter- mining the effect upon an uneducated lion. “At the end of the building was a lonely young Sokoto lion, with the spots of cub- hood still showing like a pattern in dam- ask on his skin. If he, too, liked the scent, it could hardly be an acquired taste. His reception of the new impression was different from that of the others, He lay down, inhaling the scent with a dreamy look in his eyes. Then he made faces and yawned, turned his back on the scent and thought. He then inhaled the perfume again for some time, walked slowly off to his bed and lay down to sleep.” In another part of the book Mr. Cornish tells of the peculiar impressions made on other people by his experiments. Most of the visitors at the Zoo regarded him elther with suspicion or pity, or a mixture of both, and on one occasion he was much amused at seeing a nurse point him out to her charges, and hearing her warn the “Don’t go near "im; ’e hain’t right in read.” —— ee Women Own One-Fifth. Frem the Philadelphia Telegraph. The statisttcs of the tax receiver's office show that fully 20 per cent of the assessa- ble property in Philadelphia is owned by wemen, whose real estate holdings repre- sent a money value of $153,757,566, while their personal belongings are estimated at $55,785 ,183,68, 5 FOOT BALL IN FRANCE. The French View of It—Never Brutal Except When Played by Brutes. From the Figaro. The game of foot ball, according to the Rugby rules, is now officially enthroned in France. It is the great winter game of our athletic clubs ard of our colleges. Al- though its adepts are already quite nu- merous, many people don’t even know what the game really is, and few know anything of its origin or its rules. Those whose idea of the game is formed from the legends that have been scattered around it fancy that it is a brutal scramble, which is asso- ciated with serious and even fatal acci- dents. Certainly it is not a game for dudes. The shock is rude, and the rushes and collis- icns too frequent to present a chance to measure their force. But, after all, there is no evidence to show that the accidents are more serious or more numerous in foot ball than in any other open-air sports, such as riding, bicycling, fencing and boat- ing. As in all games in Which emulation and the desire to win form the principal fea- tures of the struggle, the chances of acci- dent exist in foot ball; but, judging of it by the amount of success which it has re- ceived in France, we can simply say that it is exciting, and by no means so terrible aS a people would have us believe it 10 be. Certainly it used to be dangerous, but that was in the days when the rules which governed it were not so firmly established as they are today. In the time of Edward Iil of England, for example, in 1314, it was unlawful to play it in the streets of Lon- don on account of the frequent accidents which it caused. It was also dangerous in Brittany, where it was played under tho name of soule. In fact, it was then more of a fight than a game. It was a dramatic and hot affair, in which there were boxing, strangling and breaking of heads. It was @ game in which a man could kill his ene- my without neglecting Easter duty, pro- vided he could do so apparently by chance. Fortunately, soule is no longer played in our rural localities; and the foot ball which is now played in France is nothing more than the national English game, toned down by the rules of English schools, and introduced into France by Messrs. G. de Saint Clair and Saint-Chaffray, the authors of a very interesting pamphlet on the sub- ject, dealing with the progress of the game in France. This progress appears all the more remarkable when. we consider the number of the enemies of the thing, includ- ing those who don’t understand it,those who could not possibly play it, and the chauv- ins, for whom it is an insult to attempt to introduce an English game into this coun- try. Moreover, foot ball arrived here on the heels of the heartrending statistics of its killed and wounded, taken from an Eng- lish sheet, and in all appearance quite authentic. But in these figures two indis- pensable elements were wanting, the total number of the players and the precise lo- calities where the a@tidents occurred. In round numbers the army of footballers count 100,000 men, and this, of course, re- duces the proportion of accidents enumer- ated in the famous list. And, moreover, these accidents have occurred in the min- ing districts of the north, whose rough and prutal population ignore the distinction and courtesy so necessary. When played by well-bred young men foot ball is not dangerous, and the proof of this assertion is to be found in the five years of its existence on the programs of our athletic clubs and college games. Dur- ing that five years not one serious accident has happened at a foot ball contest in this country. The figures referred to above were well calculated to frighten school teachers and parents; but now the fathers of our boys, hostile to the game at first, encourage them to play, and the professors favor it because its chief characteristics are disci- pline and self-denial. fe ——__+-— NAILS ARE 80 CHEAI It Hardly Pays the Carpenter to Pick One Up. From the Pittsburg Dispatch. Mr. William Garrett made recently the statement that wire nails are now sold so cheaply that if a carpenter drops a nail it 1s cheaper to let it He than to stop and pick it up, and“it is claimed that one keg out of five is never used, but goes to waste. A statistician figuring this out and assum- ing that it takes a carpenter ten seconds to pick up a nail, and that his time is worth thirty cents an hour, remarks that the recovery of the nail he has dropped would cost 0.083 cent. The money value of an individual six-penny nail is 0.0077; that is, it would not pay to pick up ten nails if it took ten seconds of time worth thirty cents an hour. Ordinary men who are not very quick can, however, pick up a nail on a mod- erately clean floor in five seconds. Assum- ing that this is a better average than the ten seconds, and that we are paying the carpenter only 25 cents an hour, it will still cost to recover the nail .0347 cent, which is nearly fiveetimes the value of an individual nail. There is, therefore, a con- siderable factor of safety in the original calculation and we are bound to believe that it will not pay to pick up nails. Such a calculation brings out clearly the marvelous yeduction in prices due to in- ventive genius.. The lurking fallacy is that while it may not pay to stoop for each nail, it still may be worth while for an econom- ical man at the end of his work to stoop once and sweep up in a single handful the nails he has been dropping all day. ———— Telegraphers and Vertical Writing. From the Boston Transcript. If the vertical handwriting which is being taught in our public schools prevails, and becomes the erdinary handwriting, the peo- ple who enjoy its advantages will have in large measure the telegraphers to thank for it. They have been the pioneers of vertical writing. For the last twenty years almost every telegraph operator in the country has, written a round, vertical hand, plainer than any other sort of handwrit- ing known, with round, fat loops for the letters which drop below the line, and sim- ple capitals. This telegraphers’ handwrit- ing has much in common with the English “civil service handwriting,” which may have preceded it; but the civil service hand is less often vertical and has certain points of difference. Men’s handwriting tends in a general way to conform to the fashion of Roman print prevalent at any time; and as the most ordinary print letter nowadays is of a round or Scotch face, it is not strange on the whole that the tendency in handwriting is toward a round letter. Wo- men’s chirography is more capricious in its fashions; though it has inclined pretty steadily now for several years toward an- gular Briticism, eS ee: —s Keeping Ahead. From the Indianapolis Journal. “It is wonderful what progress has been made in the way of machinery,” remarked Mr. Figg. “I see that there has been a machine invented that can make a com- plete pair of shoes in sixteen minutes. Vhy, that is even faster than Tommy can wear them out.” AWORD TO WOMEN | From Dr. Damon,the Mag- netic Specialist. FEES REDUCED. You who are so familiar with the agonies fe and the barbaric: treatment of the “Specalaad and caustic — rings and pessaries — nauseous compounds that derange the stomach and weaken the nervous system; Who suffer so long and Patiently those aches and pains in the head, back, sides, limbs and stomach, constipation, and to be on the ‘feet long without suffering, ulceration and misplacements, the pale and wrinkled face and sallow skin, cold feet, det kidneys, hack- ing cough, and’ many other symptoms upon uterine diseases—you are the ones we especially Invite to call and the ones who should be the most interested thankful for any method that cures without the unpleasantness and expensive use of the lum, the painful and dangerous use of the caustic applied the other” time-dishonored methods of treatment which have proved so unavailing in the past. By the use of our tic treatment and to meet the requirements of each individual case, which radi cares all diseases of this nature, cancers, tumors and all glandular and. enargements are removed without pain or the use of the knife. Dr. Damon is a specialist in the diseases of women, and his record of actual cures of long-standing and difficult cases is indeed some- thing to be proud of. He is permanently located at ‘Twelfth street northwest, second from F street. Consultation and advice free. Daring the month of, February the fees for the magnetic remedies will be but $10 per month. This pluces this most valuable treatment, that has cured thousands right here in Washington, Within the reach of all." Remember, these prices will continue only during February. FOX HUNTING IN KENTUCKY How It Differe From the Sport as Fol- lowed in the Northern States. The Horscs and Hounds of the Bi Grass Region a How They Are Raised and Trained. From the Worcester Spy. W. 8S. Walker of ‘Point Level, Gerrad county, Ky., who is @ director of the Na- tional Fur Club of Lexington, was an inter- ested spectator of the experiences of the Brunswick Fur Club at Barre last week. He has two brothers, E. H. and A. K. Walker, who live in ‘his neighborhood in the blue grass region, Mr. Walker ex- plained that the brothers and himself had made a business of fox hunting since they were old enough to bestride a horse and follow packs of baying hounds. They have @ large pack of hounds, the strain of which had been perpetuated for three-quarters of a century. “Yes,” said Mr. Walker, “our méthods of hunting differ from those at the north. We do not find any fault with northern methods of shooting foxes, but to us dead foxes are mighty poor property, and I think that if the younger men here could take part in one of our Kentucky hunts they would derive more pleasure than in slaugh- tering foxes. We take as much pains in rearing horses for the fox-hunting sport as we do in raising hounds. The best horses for this sport are bred from the Denmark mare and the thoroughbred race horse. In this cross we have the durability and cool- ness of the former and the speed of the latter. When all is in readiness for the hunt we call together our pack of hounds, hardly ever than a half hundred in number, and we mount our horses ready for the chase, On the blue grass soil the tracking is of the best, and our hounds have easy sailing for a time, but finally a difficulty arises whén the fox runs into a ‘bunch of stock.’ Mr. Walker explained the “bunch of stock” as herds of mules and sheep. “The southern fox is fully as cunning ag his New England brother, and knows where his protection lies. When the short yelp of the pursuing hounds warns the fleeing fox that the dogs are close upon his heels, he, with almost human intelligence, makes for the ‘bunch of stock.’ The mules or sheep when the fox puts in his appearance among them, make a break, and scamper helter skelter, keeping up the run until-brought to a standstill by a fence or some other ob- struction. The sly fox keeps right among them, and the loosening up of the soil caused by the feet of the other animals, covers the scent of the fox, giving him tem- porary advantage over the pursuing hounds.” Mr. Walker explained the advantage of a large pack of hounds. He.said that the typical Kentucky hunter never wanted to start more than one fox at a time. The pack of hounds are all then upon his trail, with the mounted hunters in hot pursuit. As soon as one dog fagged another would come to the front and keep up the chase, and 60 on until the fox succumbed to sheer exhaustion and was caught by the hounds, with the excited huntsmen close behind. Sometimes the chase is for ten or a dozen miles straight away over fences and through underbrush and again to the open plain. Ordinary fences and walls are no obstacle to the trained horse, as they are cleared with ease as they come in the way, Neither has the underbrush any terrors for the Kentucky horse, as he is so trained that he winds in and out among the brush in such a manner that the rider need have no fears of being thrown from his saddle. Of- tentimes the les join in the hunt, and in Kentucky there are some expert ri and huntswomen, who enter the chase with @ gusto hardly less than that of their mas- culine frien At the national fox hunt at Point Level recently there were several wo- men riders, upon whom some of the men looked with eyes green with admiration and envy on account of their superior skill in horsemanship. “Ts it true,” asked the reporter, “that the Kentucky foxes are slower runners than the New England foxes?” “No,” said Mr. Walker, “I think not. In Kentucky and Tennessee the fox is iden- tical with the New England red fox, with all the speed and cunning peculiar to that animal. Indeed, several of the New Eng- land foxes have been brought south recent- ly, with a view of determining the point of speed, over which there had been some question. The point has been settled be- yond a shadow of a doubt, and it is now universally conceded that there is no dif- ference between the breeds of the foxes in- habiting the two sections.” The time of year-when the Kentuckians about Mr. Walker's home make a business of fox hunting is in the month of August, when the planters, their families and “nig- gers,” dogs and. hounds start for Dripping Springs, about eight miles away, and have a regular united family hunt, making a vacation season of it. The only other time when they go out for hunting is when they go to the Cumberland mountains in Tennes- see for the annual fall deer hunt, which is generally excellent. From the Chicago Tribune, THE STAR’S ANTI-HIGH HAT CRUSADE IN CHICAGO,