Evening Star Newspaper, May 11, 1895, Page 17

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY,. MAY 11, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. 17 SEWING IS TAUGHT A Visit to the Public Schools During a Needle Hour. THE METHOD THAT IS FOLLOWED Instruction in Cutting and Fitting is Also Given. SOME PRACTICAL POINTS ed WENTY-FIVE LIT- tle tots in rows,sand- wiched between low, well-worn desks; twenty-five little paper boxes, held in fifty small brown hands; fifty uneasy feet fastened to half as man.y twisting bodies; twenty-five pairs of eagereyes and twenty-five dear, chubby faces dim- pling in smiles—that is what met the eyes of a Star reporter @s she entered with the teacher on Thurs- day a third grade sewing school, and sat for an hour watching the twenty-five small women demonstrate what a wise thing it is to have school authorities who believe in teaching domestic science in the public schools of the city. As was observed, Thursday was sewing day in the third and fourth grades of the Henry School, and so she had a chance to see what the little ones were doing in that line. They are doing very well indeed. They can do more this minute with a needle ard No. 70 thread and a celluloid thimble than The Star reporter can, a heap More. And from the looks of the “ready made” looking garments that some of them had on, they can discount the skill of their mothers with those same implements. ‘Think of a small maiden whose long curls are constantly getting mixed up with the needle and thread, and whose tiny thimble will not go on the end of your little finger, looking down on you from her wide-eyed @ight years of existence and solemnly as- gwerting that to sew properly “the needle Must be parallel or straight with the edge of the seam, and the point toward the chest," and then demonstrating the theorem on a bit of filmy lawn, which she 4s making into an apron. “You see, I baste is way, to hold the work and guide the she goes on, nd when I hem I take up two threads of the goods and one thread of the edge of the hem.” . Perhaps she did, but as there were no Magnifying glasses at hand, and the wisp of lawn, with ite infinitesimal stitches, pre- sented such an exquisitely neat appear- ance, The Star reporter was perfectly wi ing to take the word of the miniature wo- man. Then there was a small matd who ought to have been called Patience, but probably wasn't, who was be-ribboning a blue wool aby sack. If she had been making baby Tousseaus every minute of her life since she opened her big gray eyes on this world of work and trouble ten years ago, she couldn’t have gone about the difficult task of turning those corners with a per- fect miter in a more business-like manner. There was a St. Cecilia, with long waving hair and a thin preternaturally old face lighted up with big brown eyes, who stitc! ed away in solemn earnestness on a baby's ar which wasn’t so many years too # for herself. the desk before her was her little Pasteboard box, containing her scissovs and thread, and, when not in use, her thimble, and beside that, a small bag she had mate, and some bits of work showing her skill at making buttonholes, strips of muslin with wide and narrow hems, back stitching, felling, over-casting, basting and running, all the stitches that are taught in those lower grades, and three rows of each on the strips of white cotton, done in red, white and blue thread. There was such a box on each desk—the sewing school teacher has no work room to which these small women may go, but when the hour arrives, she walks into the regular school room, and while the regular teacher is coaching the boys in spelling or grammar or something, the sewing teacher gathers her brood on one side of the long room in two or three rows of desks and quietly puts them through their stitches. It looks a difficult task to accomplish much under such circumstances, but they don’t seem to mind it in the least. The teacher seats herself on thé platform and each child in turn corhes forward to have her work examined, and if she has not done it properly, she has to rip out the portion that is ripable, or do the same thing over on another piece of cloth. There does not geem to bo much ripping to be done, for jwhen one cf the Uttle girls was told that she had put the lace om the edge of an @pron wrong and it must come off, she heaved a sigh of consternation that came clear from her toes, and said, “Oh: my!" just exactly like any other little girl would have done, though she looked. much too self-contained to give utterance to any kind of emotion. The sewing schools of the District wera Btarted in December, 1887, with Mrs. Wea- ‘Ver at their head. Honors were easy, as there were but two teachers, and it was In the nature of an experiment, as was the cooking school started at the same time. ‘At the end of the first year an exhibit of the first year’s work was made in the old eink, and it was so creditable that the 6chool authorities were encouraged to ex- tend the fteld, and four teachers began the Becond year's work. Now there are twelve teachers, under the director, Mrs. Mar- Earet Cate. Her assistants are Mrs. Mary Cc. Henry, Mrs. Sarah M. Davidson, Mrs. A. L. Norris, Miss Ernestine Thorn. ton, Miss Solomons, Mrs. Clara L. Stanton, Miss Kate Graham, Miss Artie M. Wells, Miss Mary R. Smith, Mrs. Eleanor M. Cal- houn, Miss Amelia Dalton and Misa Han- nah Draney. ‘These thirteen ladles teach sewing to about 6,000 girls during the year, and if you think it Is fun to earn a salary of $50 & month that way just try ft on for a day. That plece of a month will satisfy you. Mrs. Cate has oversight of sixty-five build- ings where sewing is taught, all the county gchools, colored as well as white, being under her charge. Of the colored sewing + schools there are about a dozen. Each teacher has five classes a day, and the classes average twenty-five girls to each. Each class receives one hour’s instruction each week. Sewing is taught in the third, fourth, fifth and sixth grades, taking in girls from seven to fifteen years of age. At the beginning of this year four more advanced schools were added, called “cut- ting and fitting” schools. It cost about $240 to eaulp these four classes,.and one is }o- cated in each section of the city. Only pu- pils of the sixth grade enter this class, and only eighteen in a class can be accommo- dated. The rooms, which are bare of orna- ment, but scrupulously clean, are fitted up with plain light wood cutting tables, on which is a yard measure, dressmaker’s square, tape measure, emery, pincushion, tracing wheel, lapboard, thimble and scis sors for each one of the eighteen. Then there is a big “chest of drawers” for put- ting away the work, a full length swinging mirror, blackboard for demonstrating draft- ing, desk for teacher and a screen. Each girl has to furnish a note book and a pen- cil, and in this book she writes out all the instructions she receives. As is the case in every other class, some of the girls are very apt and some of them are extremely stupid. In conversation with Mrs. Cate she ex- plained exactly what is taught and how it is taught in the sewing scnools. “The chil- dren are furnished with sewing boxes in which to keep their work, and a six-inch measure to aid them in turning hems, right at the start,” she said. ‘The position of the body is first taught, for that isa sclence that few old-fashioned sewers know about; then they are taught the use of the thimble and threading and handling the needle. Next a talk is given on cotton, where it grows, the different processes it goes through to be made into cloth, the warp and woof, threads, different edges, such as raw, folded, selvage and bias, and how each is made. The differert stitches are then taught, beginning with basting, why it is used and where. At the beginning of each lesson the children are questioned 23 to the preceding lesson, and are required to frame complete sentences in giving the an- swer, thus developing the mind and judg- ment, as well as training the hands. “On taking up a new subject the teacher gives a class lesson, and the bright children, readily grasping her ideas, are enabled to heip themselves, and the teacher is then able to devote more of her attention to the duil ones. The opposition met with during the first year or two of our work is dying out, as the many pleasing comments and messages from parents the past year have proven. It is now a common occurrence to hear a child say, ‘Mamma says I work bet- ter buttonholes than she does,’ or, ‘I do all the stocking darning now.’ The childrea are fond of the sewing hour, looking upon it as a recreation, and often plead to ‘sew longer.’ The work in our cutting and fit- ting schools has been very gratifying this year. “We cut by model, using exact measure- ment, and as fractions play a very large part in our measurement, the mind is stim- ulated in that direction also. Our first at- tempts at measuring are confined to small garments, doll size. When the idea is fully mastered the girls measure each other for waist patterns, which they draft, cut, baste, fit and sew themselves. These patterns are often used by their mothers in making their dresses, so weil do they fit. The cutting of under garments from measurement was taken up this year for the first time, and it has been found of great help to the pupils ‘to undertake drafting and cutting of dress waists after having worked on the under- garments. “In talking with a dressmaker recently she told me that she had one of our girls work- ing for her who had been able to command wages from the time she entered her em- ploy, and all because of her perfect knowl- edge of the system. Another young girl in South Washington, after one year’s in- struction in the cutting school, had to leave, but the next year attended the sew- ing class by special permission. She then bought the system used in the school, and is now a full-fledged dressmaker. These are only two instances out of many that might be recited to show that the seeds sown are bringing forth fruit.” Of course, everything is furnished the sewing school from the public funds, but the sum is only $500 a year for sewing ma- terial for the 6,C00 pupils. Just at the present time the sewing school pupils are engaged in making up a lot of pretty lawns and cambrics into arti- cles to be placed on sale in the grand bazaar which will be given by the schools of the District in December for the benefit of the teachers’ endowment fund. Most of the material for these “show” garments is donated by the patrons of the schools. In the Franklin building is a portion of the exhibit made by the pupils at the world’s fair. Those who are curious to know what these children can do with a needle should see those pretty garments, with stitches like frost wora. Se “Baby” Kee and His Wheel. From the Indianapolis News. Benjamin Harrison McKee is riding a bi- cycle. He is the “Baby McKee” who be- came so prominent during the administra- tion of President Benjamin Harrison, his grandfather. The little fellow takes to his wheel like a duck to water, and is rapidly becoming an accomplished member of the bicycle school. His mother, Mrs. James Robert McKee, is learning to ride at the same school. Mrs. Dimock, niece of ex- President Harrison’s wife, is also taking lessons at the same school. “Baby McKee” is usually the center of attraction at the school when he is taking his lessons. Among the newer pupils at the school is Miss Ruth McKee, sister of “Baby McKee.” ——__+e-+___ His Fad Restored His Health. From Buffalo Times’ New York Letter. It is odd what turns the collecting mania will take. There is a man in New York who never goes to the theater, but has for twenty-five years collected the programs of each New York play house weekly. Not only that, but he has clipped from each Tuesday’s papers the criticisms of the new plays. All this vast quantity of data he has carefully preserved. It is odd how he started in the quest of theater programs and data cf the drama. In 1870 he was in very bad health. His doctor told him he must exercise more. Sp he decided that he would walk around to the different thea- ters and ask for a program. The walking he found of benefit to his health, and it is an interesting fact that in twenty-five years he has not missed a day to make his rounds of the play houses. He is a very shy old man, and as he has grown older his walks have been lengthened out, since new theaters have sprung up all over New York, at considerable distances apart. —-— ee A Gross Blander. From the Chicago Record. First Prizefighter’s Manager—“Me princi- pal’s challenge stipulates fur a side bet of $10,000 and two-ounce gloves.” Second Prizefighter’s Manager—‘Well,you want to seratch that out in a hurry, you chump. Them’s just the terms my princi- pal asks fur in his challenge.” THEY WERE CADETS Army Officers’ Reminiscences of West Point Life, THE TRIALS OF THE PLEBES Club House Chat at a Post on the Frontier. BEFORE SQUAW CALL Written for The Evening Star by Wm. H. Wassell. (Copyright. HE ADJUTANT and the quarter- master were smoking on the club house porch, their chairs tilted far back, the unfinished Manitobas on a small table near them. It was a warm spring evening, just the sort of an even- ing that puts one in a reminiscent mood, that makes one love to sit and sip and puff and talk lazily of pleasant memories. Presently a captain joined them, then some first Heutenants who wanted to be captains, and later on all the bachelors strolled over from the mess. The moon was coming up over the buttes, the warm air was full of the fragrance of spring, and after a fron- tier winter, spring and all the signs and rumors of spring are pleasant subjects to dwell upon. “Aside from the additional pleasures de- rived from the use of the club's call bell,” said the adjutant slowly, “this reminds me very much of a West Point evening in June, just after the examinations, when a cadet has nothing to do but dream of a summer of happy idleness.”" “And the fun he is going to have with the plebes,” put in the more practical quartermaster. “There is something in that, too,” as- sented the adjutant. Then there was a long pause. Every one was thinking of the days when he receiv- ed his first lessons in the art of war. It had been hard work and very little fun, but now everything but the fun was for- gotten. “You know,” said the adjutant finally, “when I received my appointment to the Military Academy, the one paper of my native hamlet devoted a quarter of a col- umn to paint my military future. They praised my supposed brightness in getting the appointment, styled me the future Napoleon, and intimated that Keokuk, Ohio, would be celebrated in history as the birthplace of a great warrior. Every one in town looked at me with pride, and the editor and general news gatherer of the paper rushed across the street to speak to me. But oh, how I cussed that editor after- wards. For by some unlucky chance, this paper was sent to my predecessor at the Point. He cut out the flattering descrip- tion, and before graduation gave it to a lower classman. Well, I reported at the academy, and after a week of preliminary torture, I was sent with some seventy brother unfortunates to plebe camp, plac- ed in a little tent with two fellows who were equally as green as I was, and told one hundred different things about keep- ing the tent in order. I'll never forget my first night in that tent. Just after return- ing from our evening meal, I thought I would write home and tell my people that West Point was not all it was cracked up to be, but before I could put the pen in the ink, In rushed an upper classman. Of course, I knew enough to jump up and stand at attention, my fins turned out, and my eyes rigidly fixed on an imaginary spot thirty yards in front of me. My visitor eyed me first from one side, tk from the other. ‘Are you Mister Newell?’ he asked .in_a sepulchral voice. I murmured a weak affirmative, and he rushed out of the tent and shouted, ‘I have found him,’ and a number of Voices responded in a forced ‘Hurrah!’ In marched ten of my class- mates; as each one passed me, he saluted, and my tormentor howled at me to return the salutes. One man laughed as he passed me, and he was warned of untold numbers of double step, and then sent out to come in and go through the performance proper- ly. A fool laughs at his own foolishness, they say, but the one thing that kept me from bursting out was the uncertainty as to what was to follow. The Plebe's Ordeal. “Finally, all my fellow-plebes made a proper entrance into the tent; the upper classman faced them and raised his hand asa signal. ‘Sire,’ chorused the plebes, on whose training the upper cla: an had la- bored all the afternoon; ‘Sire,’ said the: looking at me, ‘have we your majesty’s permission to be seated?” One man back in the corner of the tent laughed at this, but a good dose of the old second exercise soon took the humor out of him, and then the performance was resumed. At the com- mand of the upper classman I gave the des sired permission to sit. ‘Mister Newell,” said the ghostly voice of the tormentor, ‘these plebes have been bothering me all afternooa. They want to hear the wonder- ful story of your future, Mister Newell.’ Here he produted that awful clipping from the newspaper. ‘Take that,’ he continued, ‘and read it With appropriate gestures.’ The article began like this—I'll remember every word of it to my dying day—‘John T. New- ell in luck.—Congressman Blakely has ap- pointed our brilliant young townsman, John T. Newell, to a cadetship at West Point. We congratulate you, John, and predict that in a few years this little town will be celebrated as the place wherein you first saw the light of day. Go forth to glory; a brilliant career awaits you; and when, in future years, you lead your coun- try’s army to glorious victories, &c., &c., &c.” Well, I began to read the thing. At every second or third word I was compelled to make some kind of a gesture, and act every gesture my suffering audience was commanded to applaud. Whenever any- cre laughed ha was taken outside, his mirth vented through a vigorous continuance of one of the setting up exercises, and then we had to Start at the beginning again. In front of the open tent stood a crowd of grinning upper classmen. Again, on the following evening, I thought I would write home, but a brother plebe brought me word that a first classman over in D company wanted me. I presented myself at his tent, found my former audience of classmates, and, much to the amusement of several first classmen, the performance of the pre- ceding evening was repeated. And for the two months that encampment lasted I counted every night a happy one when no one sent for me to deliver my speech on myself, The unfortunate audience had been trained to go through their parts, but, like all other West Point hazing, this afforded fun to both sides, and my audience of class- mates bore me no ill-will. But I’ll never forget the lines of that newspaper clipping, nor the spread-eagle gestures I had to make after every few words.”” Taking Down One's Concett. “Speaking of having one’s conceit taken down,” said Capt. Beckley, ‘“‘when our class was sent into camp every first and third classman selected one of us to act as his special dutyman, to carry water for him, arrange his tent and run errands for him. “One day I was sent with some tobacco to a first classma who was in confinement. Tobacco being contraband, and prized ac- cordingly, I naturally expected that the man to whom I was sent would be glad to get it, and would receive me with open arms. He was lying on his bedding when I gave him the coveted material for his cl- garette. ‘What's your name?’ he growled. I told him, commencing my answer with a mister and ending it with a respectful sir. He growled out the request for my native state, and I gave it with the same respect- ful sir attached. He leaped from his bed, and paced the floor of the tent In assumed distress. ‘In all Gonnecticut,’ he finally said, ‘couldn’t they find a better man than you to send to West Point?’ ” “Did you ever make love to a broom- stick?” inquired one of the younger Iteuten- ants. “That was one of the masterpieces of humor in my day. When I reported to the cadet officers I was asked if I were.a spooney man, and I promptly said that I wag not. ‘Then you need practice,’ said a yearling corporal. ‘Just take that broom and imagine it is a pretty girl.’ I was stubborn for a moment, but, wisely con- cluded it was best to do as I‘was told. So he gravely presented me to Miss Broom- stick. I requested the pleasure of a dance znd whirled around the room, clasping the cold broom, while another piebe whistled a waltz. Then, by command, I stood my partner in a corner, brought her an imagin- ary ice, declared myself her devoted slave, and finally placed my hand on my heart, and declared that life without her would be a dreary waste. All'the time other candi- dates were entering :the room to report, and when one of them snickered the room- ful of cadet officers made such a rush and a howl at him that he didn’t dare laugh again for a week. Finally, they let me go, a cadet Heutenant remarking that as I seemed so attached t9,a broom, I could re- port at his tent and’pe a slaye to his.” “It never did a plebE any good to be stub- born in my day,” réfnarked another lieu- tenant. “It was always a case of doing what you were told-or of having a fight en your hands. And, in addition to being whipped, a stubborn man was always con- sidered a special subjéct for discipline, and he soon discovered that ridiculous tasks were merely a part and parcel of the West Point training. I never knew of but one upper classman telling a plebe to do any- thing that was at all improper, and in this case the offender was summarily dismissed from the academy. And in my day I do not remember a single plebe who was stub- bern and got into fights being graduated. Men of that kind were invariably found de- ficient at their first examinations, not as a result of their stubbornness, but rather on their mental incapacity—an incapacity that was first apparent when they did not have the sense to submit to good-natured hazing that has gone on ever since the academy was established.” qi “I have noticed that, too,” said the ad- jutant. “It was true in my time,” said Captain Knight. “You know, I reported just after the close of the war. I was twenty-two then, and for a few short months had been second lieutenant of a company of volun- teers. I reported at the academy in Sep- tember, and ware my Heutenant’s uniform. 1 arrived at the Point several days before the time I was to report, and those days almost cured me of my desire to enter the academy. I reported on the 28th of August, and that morning I got up very early and walked down toward the cadet encamp- ment. Just as I reached the camp the reveille gun was fired, and, to my amaze- ment, white-robed figires began climbing down’ from every tree around the camp. I found that they were plebes, and that the upper classmen had celebrated the last night of the encampment by putting all the plebes up in the trees. At 12 o'clock the night before every unlucky plebe was awakened from the comforting dream that this was the last night of his hazing, marched cut of his tent in his night shirt, and perched up in a tree, there to stay un- til reveille the next morning. It was a ghostly sight,” continued the captain, “to see the trees giving up their white clad figures, to see the same figures rush to their tents and reappear in a few moments in proper garment to answer their names at roll call. They did it so naturally that one might imagine trees to be their favorite sleeping places.” On Guard Duty. “Figures in white!” chuckled the quar- termaster, “you all know what a mess a plebe always makes of his first guard tour. Well, when I went on guard for the first time, I thought I was doing splendidly. The adjutant gave me the usual searching inspection and passed me without a word of reproach, something very unusual. I krew my orders verbatim, and everything -went well during the day. But that night. Well, I knocked my good record all to pieces. You remember in those days we had very complicated rules for challeng- ing parties appearfmg near a sentinel’s pest. It was, ‘Wh6é comes there?’ ‘Who goes there?’ or ‘Who stands there” as the case might be. But the'plebe sentinel had to be exact to the dot, and in case an up- per classman sat down on his post he would refuse to answer the challenge until the plebe called out ‘Who sits there?’ Then, in case several parties approached the post at once, the poor pfébe had to consider the rank of all of them, advance the senior first, if the parties came in different direc- tions, or advarce the junior and require him to give the couptergign for his seniors in case they all came together. Well, about 12 o’clock that night I saw a ghostly looking object coming. along my post. ‘Who comes there?’ I shouted. ‘Sin,’ an- swered the figure. Hearing a noise behind me, I turned hastily and saw another white figure, which, on chatfenging, informed me that it. was ‘Death.” Then from another direction came a third white figure which turned out to be the ‘Devil.’ Here was a predicament. Sin, Death and the Devil ail near my post, and I couldn't tell which was the senior and which was the junior. Before I could deliberate, a barrel with protruding arms and legs came rolling to- ward me. ‘Who comes there? Li yelled. ‘Challenge me properly,’ came a muffled voice, as the barrel moved rapidly toward me. ‘Who rolls there?’ I challengéd, and then I heard a smothered laugh from the nearest tents. But this was not all. From every direction they swarmed toward me. One came in a wheelbarrow; while my back was turned a first classman moved his bed out on my post, and I had to chal- lenge, ‘Who sleeps there?" They surround- ed mo like bees, and jumped me because I was rattled. Finally a man dropped down from the tree above me, and the en- tire crowd climbed onto me for not asking ‘Who dropg there?’ Then some one started a newspaper fire at one end of my post, and when I ran to put-it out, a second fire was started at the other end of the post. That was the night of nights in my career as a sentinel, but by the next day I was laughing about it as much as any one. “Do you remember Downing of ‘Si?” asked the adjutant. “He was a cadet lieutenant in my plebe camp, and while deviling a plebe one night the plebe stuck a bayonet in him. It was only a flesh weund, but it bled profusely, and, of course, Downing couldn't go to the hos- pital, as that would have led to an investi- gation and some one would fave been in trouble for deviling the plebe. We dressed the wound as well as we could, but every few days it would break out again. Well, ail through that camp Downing had to at- tend to his duties as though nothing was wrong with him, and he had to wash ail his clothes to get the blood stains out be- fere sending them to the cadet laundry.” what happened to the plebe who stuck im ?”” eh “Oh, he was found deficient by the aca- demic board the following January. Of course, he had no sense, or he would not have tried to run a bayonet through any one.”" Jokes on the New-Comers, “It was a great joke in my time,” said the ranking first lieutenant, “to make a plebe stand attention when he had a buck- et of water in each hand. The way to and from the water tank passed directly in front of cadet officers’ tents, and ff a plebo dared to carry water in daytime, some one was sure to sing out ‘Atten-t-ho-o-o-n’ while he was carrying the filled buckets. Of course, the plebe would drop the buck- ets and assume that rigid attitude laid cown as the position of the soldier. The water was generally spilled, frequently all over the plebe, and then there was noth- ing to do but to go back, refill the buckets and try to run the gauntlet once more. It was a venturesome plebe, in my day, who nt to the water tank’before dark.” “When I was a plebe,” ‘said the new first lieutenant, “the cadet captain of my com- pany inspected the ‘company street one morning and found a*butht match in front of my tent. He was futious,and made me get a long rope, fasten the'match to it, and then call out all the rest f the plebes to help me drag it away. It°was a small matter, but you can rest assiffed that he impressed on us the necessity 6f keeping that strect clean, After we had dragged the match away, he noticed that F looked weary with the world in general, ‘so in order to give me a rest, he made me“sit on a bayonet for fifteen’ minutes. * *°* Those were great days.” = “The greatest terrdr of,my day,” put in the quartermaster, ‘Qwas ‘marching to and frcm the mess hall.!Don’t you remember hew they made us keep closed up to about two inches from the fhan in the front rank, our hands turned ovf and held rigidly to the seams of the trousers, our toes digging Into the ground at every step; a yearling ccrporal, over zealous with his new chev- rons, howling at you at every step to close up, while the man in the front rank kept up a@ continual growl to stop riding him. And then every once in a while the front rani man would change step, or cross his feet in marching, and you, of course, would get hopelessly tangled up in his legs, be re- ported by the corporal for unsteadiness in ranks, and cussed out by the front rank man for falling all over him. * * * But perhaps I didn’t get even with the world the next year when I got in the front rank and hada luckless plebe behind me. You bet you.” “Did you,ever hear about the parapet and our exceedingly precise and proper Mr. Crossing?” asked the junior of all the juniors. “Well, the first time Crossing was on guard he did everything so correctly that the corporals didn’t have a chance to jump him. He was on No. 2, and one of his special orders was to allow no one on the parapet of Fort Clinton, just alongside of his post. Toward evening Crossing saw a man walking on the parapet. Crossing came to a very military arms port, and sang out, ‘Get off that—that'—he knew what it was, but to save his military repu- tation he could not think of the right word. ‘Get off that—that—that—’ He was raking so much noise that every one in camp stopped to listen. Finally he got desperate. * ‘Get off that elevated ditch,” he screamed, and then a roar went up all over the cam “There goes squaw call,” said Capt. Knight, as the call to quarters was sound- ed. “You fellows that have wives had bet- ter go home.” ——-—___ A CAKE WALK PRIZE, The New Yorker's Triumph Proved to Be a Sham. From the Philadelphia Press. There is joy and merriment in those ctr- cles in the seventh ward where sorrow and disappointment reigned after che big cake walk at the Academy of Music on Friday night. All the colored residents of the sev- enth ward knew after the cake walk that their pride, Mr. John Taylor, and his com- panion, Miss Emma Jones, had been de- feated by the New Yorkers, Mr. and Mrs. William Farrell. Now, there is no one in the world that a true seventh warder has as little use for as a New Yorker, and for a couple of them to come over from Gotham and carry off the prize cake filled their cup with bitterness to overflowing. But a balm to their wounded feelings had been administered in the shape of the se- quel to the walk. It was noticed that Mr. Farrell, the winner, did not seem tovbe in a particularly happy frame of mind on Satur- day, and instead of making a display of his fine clothes on Lombard street, he kept to his boarding house. Yesterday morning, however, he strolled up Lombard street and Joined the promenade of churchgoers. As he passed by several groups he noticed that thelr tendency was to break out into loud sneering laughs. So uncomfortable did this make the prize winner that he concluded that the secret which he had guarded so well had become known. In the afternoon he took the train back to New York. After the cake walk the winner, accom- panied by a number of friends, went over to a Broad street saloon. The cake that had won the admiration of every one at the Academy was placed on a big round table, and the winner was the recipient. of many congratulations. He was treated by several, and finally, out of the goodness of his heart, it is said, he corciuded to cut the cake and distribute the pieces among his friends us souvenirs, The bartender procured a large carving knife, and, of course, to Mr. Farrell fell the honor of cutting the cake. His knife had not gone deep into the cake before the smile on his features was supplanted by a look of con- sternation. When he withdrew the knife along with it came a portion of the cake, the elastic qualities of which were so great that when the knife was tgken ten feet away it still retained its connection with the cake. There was trouble at once. Everybody examined the cake at once, and the truth was out. Beneath that beautiful icing there was nothing but a mass of very common molasses and sawdust. The win.er and his guests sadly depart- ed. His opponents soon heard of it, how- ever, and by Saturday afternoon the truth was known all over the seventh ward. —___+e+-_____ RECURRENT DREAMS. An Experience With a Sleep Vision and How It Vanished. W. D. Howells in Harper's Magazine. I have heard people say they have sometimes dreamed of a thing, and awakened from their dream, and then fal- len asleep and dreamed of the same thing; but I believe that this is all one contin- uous dream; that they did not really a en, but only dreamed that they awakened. I have never had any such dream, but at one time I had a recurrent dream, which was so singular that I thought no one else had ever had a recurrent dream, till I proved that it was rather common by start- ing the inquiry in the Contributors’ Club in the Atlantic Monthly, when I found that great numbers of people have recurrent dreanis. = My own recurrent dreams began to come during the first year of my consulate at Venice, where I had hoped to find the same kind of poetic dimness on the phases of American life, which I wished to treat in literature, as the distance of time would have given. I should not wish any such dimness now, but those were my romantic days, and 1 was sorely baffled by its ab- sence. The disappointment began to haunt my nights as well as my days, and a dream re- peated itaelf from week to week for a matter of eight or tén months to one ef- fect. I dreamed that I had gone home to America, and that people met me and said, “Why, you have given up your place!” and I always answered: “Certainly not; I haven't done at all what I mean to do there yet. I am only here on my ten days’ leave.” I meant the ten days which a con- sul might take each quarter without apply- ing to the Department of State; and then I would reflect how impossible it was that I should make the visit in that time. I saw t®at I should be found out, and dis- missed from my office and publicly dis- graced. Then, suddenly, I was not consul at Venice, and had not been, but consul at Delhi, in India, and the distress I felt would all end in a splendid Oriental phantasma- goria of elephants and native princes, with their retinues in procession, which I sup- pose was mostly out of my’ reading of De Quincey. ‘This dream, with no variation that I can recall, persisted till I broke it up by say- ing, in the morning after it had recurred, that I had dreamt that dream again; and so it began to fade away, coming less and less frequently, and at last ceasing alto- gether. . a AN AUDIED OF ONE. How Edwin Arnold Overcame a DIM- culty in Omaha. From the Philadelphia Press. Several amusing stories are told of the slim audiences which greeted Sir Edwin Arnold in some of our western cities. But it remained for Omaha to give the author of “The Light of Asia” the slimmest of all. Sir Edwin had traveled all night from In- dianapolis to Omaha, and expected great things of the people of the latter city. He had been greeted by a respectably sized au- dience in Minneapolis, but in some way or other the famous author had pictured Omaha to himself as an enormous metrop- olis, whose citizens would flock to hear him. Upon reaching his hotel early in the morning Sir Edwin said to his manager when he called upon him: “I suppose we'll do well here, won't we?” “Well, I don’t know,” said the manager, in rather a crestfallen way. “I have just been to the place where the advance sale has been going on for ten days, but the rush has not been very great.” “Oh, well,” said Sir Edwin, encouragingly, “it can’t help having been tolerably large. How many seats have been sold?” “Well, since you ask, Sir Edwin, so point- ediy, I will teli you. We have just sold one seat, and the buyer of that Is now waiting down stairs to see you.” The English poet was crestfallen, but, re- covering himse’f, he asked that his visitor be shown up to him. It turned out to be a young woman who was an intense admirer of Sir Edwin, He kept his visitor there for two hours, reading to this audience of one the entire lecture. Then, bowing his au- dience out, he called his manager and said: “Well, I have delivered my lecture. Why should we stay here?” This struck the manager as rather a sen- sible idea, and, hurriedly arranging with the owners of the hall, the lecture was can- celed, and by noon the lecturer and his manager were off for the next stop. In the eveniag just four people turned up at the hall, to be met with the notice that there would be no lecture. +—____+e+___ Not in the Libretto. From the Boston Evening Transcript. It wae at a critical dramatic moment long ago that the prima donna heard the tenor warbling in Italian: “Oh! my dear friend, what on earth shall I do? My coat is ripping up the back, and I dare not embrace you?” Quick as lightning she warbled back: “Stand still; keep your back to the audi- ence and I will come and throw my arms around you.” 'Tis told that she did so, and with a pin puckered the coat’s wound together, and revived the tenor’s courage to finish the scene, By using Hall's Hair Renewer gray, faded or discolored hair assumes the natural color of youth and grows juxuriant and strong, pleasing every- FURNISHINGS IN BLUE. A Color Well Adapted to Summer Sea- son and Summer House. From the New York Times. It is not every housekeeper who knows the good points in spring furnishings. ‘When a summer cottage is to be replenish- ed in various items, or a new apartment which will be occupied during the summer months made habitable, with an effect of coolness to be secured, the first considera- tion should be that of color. Select those tints which insure physical repose to the inmate. For this nothing is better than blue. It is restful to the material eye, and grateful to the mental vision in its sug- gestion of coolness, only neecing graceful lines to be wholly satisfactory. This season the shops overflow with Java prints for curtains in delicious hues in blue, in which vines, flowers, disks, stars, stripes and large dots prevail; they are perfect in their way. They come by the yard, or can be purchased in pairs at the lcw price of $7. Every kind can be secured to meet all requirements. , To furnish a room used at times for company, where space is limited, attention may first be given to the lounge bed, which will give to the apartment length and breadth {f the cover is of blue in delicate colors. Light tones for small rooms are desirable. On the couch place some eight or ten pillows, all in complementary tones, which will harmonize with the cover. For a floor covering in the center, add a thick Japanese rug of blue effect, the pattern of which is well covered. In furniture it is immaterial as to the wood, so that the covering proper is the main decoration, and for selection nothing is better than the Morris velvets or Per- sian prints, preserving the tint of blue throughout. For a summer window, where the sun is apt to be an intruder, bave a low sash curtain of Madras figures of light blue, in dots or bowknots. This should be fastened by a small brass rod, and so easily adjust- ed that it can be swept aside at will. Over it place some good fretwork, painted black, which should fit exactly the upper frame. If in this window there is a broad sill, a box of vines and blossoms will add a@ picturesque touch. For the few bits of harmonizing pottery which the room needs, some of the excellent imitations of Dutch delft now in the market will satisfy the artistic taste and not deplete the moderate purse. At the doors, portieres can be se- lected in different styles, the Bayadere be- ing the most popular. Although of cotton, the stripes have a wool effect. They come showing dots, disks and stars below each stripe, and cost from 75 cents to $1.00 a yard. Finally, the tea table, with its harmoniz- ing cover of linen drawnwork over blue sateen or a bit of old French damask, with fringe to match, completes the picture. Blue is peculiarly adapted for country reoms. Lecturers on physical culture say the tint is restful and influences repose for the human frame, allaying nervousness one ene Peaceful rural life to charm and scothe. ——__+e-+____ A SUSPICIOUS UNCLE. Who Hadn’t Much Faith in Miss Kit- ty’s Constant Company. From the Ch: :ago Tribune. “Kitty, what brings that young chuckle- head of a Spoonamore to this house so often?” “Why, Uncle Allen, he comes to see me, I suppose.” “What do you know about him?” “I know he’s a very pleasant, agreeable young man, who belongs to a good family, always dresses “well, is in good circum- stances, and is well educated and well read.” “What else do you know about him?” “I know he hasn’t any of the habits many young men have. Le doesn’t drink, smoke, gamble, attend prize fights, or go into bad company.” “Does he keep a race horse?” “Oh, no! I am sure he doesn’t.” ‘Bart his hair in the middle?” “No” “Let his little finger nails grow extreme- ly long?” “No. : “Quote Ibsen.” “Never.” “Chew gum?” “Oh, no!” “Wear pointed whiskers?” “He does not.” * “Carry chocolate creams and caramels in his pocket?” (Stil suspicions)—“He may be all right, Kitty, but you'd better watch him. I'li bet $4 he calls his father ‘pa.’ EEO oiaeae POKER IN ALASKA. How They Play It There Paralyzes the Ordinary Sport. From the New York Sun. “A select Ittle poker party was on in Juneau the night before I left,” said a man who has just returned from Alaska, “and the game sweetened up in good shape in a few rounds. Poker is the same in Alaska as it is in New York or Florida, only, per- haps, it’s oftener. In the course of the game a jack pot assumed ample propor- tions, and a noted local player opened it with a bang. One after another laid down and only one man stayed in to fight it out. He drew one card to fill a straight flush, while the opener stood pat. The opener pushed out a little stack of chips after the draw. His opponent threw down a bob- tail flush, exclaiming: “df I had caught my man I would have seen you and raised you clear to the ceil- ing. ‘Well, here’s your man,” said the opener, handing him the desired ace of spades, ‘and now go ahead with your bluff- ing.” “The other player looked at the opener in amazement. The straight-flush man, for that was his hand, bet a stack of reds. The opener saw him and raised, at the same time remarking: “Take back your chips, old man, I don’t want te rob you.” “*Rob me! Well, I guess not. You can’t do it without a gun. I’ve got a royal flush and nothing beats that but a six-shooter.’ “The opener looked dazed, and then, threwing down an ace full on kings, he saic ‘Of course you have. I’m the oyster and I've been opened in shape.” “My friend Mr. Goodplayer had to set ‘err up for the rest of the evening. Wasn't that a soft target? I’m going back to Juneau some time.” ———+-+_____ National Institutions, From Puck. Mr. Bleecker (of New York)—“Ts it not against the law to fight duels in France?” Mons. Crapaud—“Eez eet not against ze laws for ze saloons to be oper on ze Sun- day in zis citee?” From Judge. Minnie—“Mr. Billie, if I should consent to be your wife, are you sure you would never object to my dressmaker’s bills, never re- fuse to buy opera tickets when asked, never—er—in fact, never object to any ex- penses which I might wish to incur?” Mr. Billie—“Darling, I swear it!” Minnie—“Well, Mr. Billie, if you can’t hold on to your money any betier than that, I must say ro.” Nature's Reme- dies ofttimes poor- ly flattered by chemical and dane gerous imitations, For five centurie: Carlsbad has st in the role o strength and and millions have been cured ihe Carlsbad a The uine Carlsbad ‘Waters of all sorts and manners o! solide, bottiod and ‘plasca 19 bpeetii,atongs gs cous Henke pisses co las op finttations, Eisner & Mendelson ‘Go., N healibgtr MUNYON’S TRIUMPH, The Fight Against Disease, Poison- ous Drugs and Old Fogyism Declared in His Favor. Mr. J. Gaumer Tells the Story of His Suffering and Care. Mr. J. Bammer, 42 E. 21st st., Bayonne, Says: “Eighteen ‘months ago Iwas’ 80. ¢ with rhenmatism that I could net dress mysel tried all the doctors in Bayonne, but they me up as hopeless. I also tried ‘numerous but falled to find any relief. At rd of Munyon’s Rheumatism Cure and began using It. The effect was maryelous. I improved ‘e, and found that Jess than two bottles were sufficient to cure me completely, as I have not had a twinge of rheumatism’ since. Munyon’s Rheumatism Cure i¢ guaranteed to cure rheumatism in any part of the body. Acute or muscular rheumatism cured in from one to five days. It never fails to cure sharp, shooting pains in the arms, legs, sides, back or breast, or sore- ness in any part of the body in from one to three hours, It fs guaranteed to promptly cure lamencas, stiff and swollen joints, stift back and all paint in the Ips and loins, Chronic rheumatism, ica, lumbago or pain in the back —— cured. iy te Munyon’s Homeopathic Home Remedy G of Philadelphia put ifles for pearly every Gisease,, wilich are sold ‘by all druggists,” mowsly for 25 ‘cents a bottle. ‘Those who are in doubt 2s to the nature of their disease should address Rrofessor Munyon, 1505 Arch street, Philudelphia, giving full. symptoms of their disease. Professor Munyon will carefully diagnose the case and give you the benefit of his advice absolutely free of all charge. The Reme- dies will be sent to any address on receipt of retail price. SSS SOTOSOHSSSSSSSSSSSOSSSAS The Opinion of Mr. Goldschmid: WASHINGTON, April 15, 1895. “Dear Sir?—in reply a ie Sir:—I ly to your regard- ing “tho EDDY MENG EIA I will state that it is by far the best I have ever used. I sold hundreds of Refrigerators when in business, but must say that the splendid construction, om scientific principles, together with the SLATE-STONE SHELVES and ECONOMY IN ICE, places “THE EDDY" far in advance of any other Re- frigerator I have seen or used. BR. GOLDSCHMID. 1210 N street n.w, CO “THE EDDY” costs from $5.85 up- ward, according to size. M.W. Beveridge, 1215 F St. and 1214 G St. POTTERY, PORCELAIN, GLASS, ETO. my10-40d Gray Hair A thing of the covery “is aed, Aaa AADAAAAAAADADADAADDADAD AS positively not a dye. out, arrests dandruff and for” the hair one can use. ment. No stains. KOLB PHARMACY, 801 ST. N.W. Sent, express the country on receipt of price. eee gall Comunendable Qualit; wayr sold for much Mgber wa} for mucl privesare the. kinds you'll find our odds and ends sale be made up of. Such saving prices as these Ladies’ Stylish Shoes... Men's Serviceable Shoes. Children’s Shoes...... UCKER’S, 1237 32d $ mvio-2sa CLARET, soc. Half Gallon Bottle. Good To-Kalon San ree, Lemonade, ete., only Svc. half gak fon hatte, delivered.” We vouch for th¢ quality. To-Kalon Wine Co.,614 14th [7'Phone 998. West Washington orders filled through Manogue & Jones, 32d and M sts. n.w. 22d > imo CLARET {California 4 < 4 4 ‘ “| cee This is a better quality than that cece yon've been paying $3.50 for. These 4 cece Clarets must not be confounded with q@occe the ipe Virginia Wines sold about ] cece town California cece Wine lient | flavor 4 cece and ng 1-3, ? cece c7 We an il and telephone orders © ce promptly. Delivery anywhere. . IA WINE AND FRUIT CO., 1205 G ST. @ Ferd. Schneider—Manager. my10-28a see seer nee Imitation Alligator ClubBags,85c. * We believe this is the lowest price * ever quoted for a 14inch durable and * sightly Club Bag. Even the depart- * ment stores, who apparently sell so * low, ask $1.10 for the same Bag. ‘The 18-Inch ones, $1; $1.73 elsewhere. Although leather has advanced 40 per cent, we will not advance our prices as long as our present stocks will last—and we've a big one. Your name marked on the trun and a trunk strap free. — 425 7th St. § 4:52 Gallon. wee eeeeeeeee seer rere eere ere eeerneene . . . . . A straight | S-rearold | Mquor that has the reputation of being one of the best whiskies on tho market to- day. “Smooth as silk” in flavor and absolutely pure. Unsurpassed for me- dicinal purposes or as a beverage. For couvalescents, invalids or those need- ing a tonle—this whiskey will prove * of great, value. ‘Witmer & Co., 1918 Pa. Fine Grocers and Purveyors. my10-164, “ts Equal is Unknown.” OZONATE LITHIA WATER CURES RHEUMATISM. . General Agent, % W. BURCHELL, 1825 F STREET. my2itg . Bargains In Long Hair Switches, Save