Evening Star Newspaper, May 25, 1895, Page 15

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 25, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. CORCORAN SCHOOL The Annual Competition Among Art Students. EXCELLENT WORK SHOWN THIS YEAR A Look Backward Over the History of the School. ITS SPLENDID NEW HOME en” The spirit of emulation is nowadays lively and keen among the students of the Corcoran School of Art. But a week in- tervenes before the annual award of merit in the competition for the gold medal. This competition brings into review all the work of the year and gives it its special accent and importance. The medal is given for the best example of work in drawing from life cr the antique. The exhibition of drawirgs will be opened Thursday in the school building adjoining the gallery; con- tmuing from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Thursday and Friday, and closing at 12 o'clock on Saturday. The entire first floor of the school, compoged ordinarily of three large rooms, has been throwi into one spacious gallery, and the walls covered from floor to cefiing with 300 or more studies in black and white, showing the collective work of the students dering the past year. One the room is occupied entirely by the gs made in competition for the Cor- coran medal. Besides the gold medal there is a bronze medal and the honor of an painter. The exhibition of portrait studies includes some exceptionally sincere and ef- fective work. In common with the studies in water colors, which, like the portrait studies, are the result of but a few months’ work, there is shown here a disposition to lay the honest groundwork cf excellence rather than to pass on to the ambitious and difficult stages for which there has keen no preparation, and the result of wh can only be imperfect and -disap- pointing attempts. It mugt be said of the studies this year in all the classes that they show broad, strcng, confident and conscientious work. Evidently details and finish have been pestpened with a distinct gain and ad- vantage in the fundamental and primary attainments of the draughtsman and the colorist. ‘The Good It Hus Denc. It is work like this which must precede real success in art. As Prof. Andrews said yesterday, in speaking of the work of the school, “Not all art students can hope to be great. The percentage of great artists in the average class of students, abroad as well as here, is, I think, hardly more than 1 per cent. I say this, looking batk upon my owa student career, which was for- turately extended through several years of study at Paris, Munich and Dusseldorf. I can say without hesitation that Mr. Cor- ccran’s endowment of this school, the gen- erous advantage of which we have had now since the year 1890, has given scores, and I may say hundreds, of young men and women a better chance in the struggle of life. It has given them a chance to dis- cover for themselves what field and degree of talent they possessed, and opened to them decors of opportunity, which other- wise would have been to them forever clcsed. Our students are scattered from Seattle to Kennebec. So far as we have time and strength for it, we try to keep in tovch with them, and to know what they are doing. Many are teachers, some have sueceede] in portraiture, quite a few are distinctly making: their way forward in the special work of periodical illustrations, cme are studying abroad, and we have others who in time, we trust, will- make their mark as painters of landscape and the figure, while some may be known in the list of great sculptors of the age. “Miss Daisy Brown, who took the gold aE NEW ART GALLERY BUILDING. = honorable mention to be striven for. Prof. Andrews has also this year oifered a spe- cial prize of $50 for the best dy shown by a member of the portrait class. ‘The work in all lines shown this year displays a marked improvement over pre- vious exhibits, aad the task of selecting the most meritorious will prove no easy undertaking. Will H. Low, LE. H. Blashfield and Fran« Fowler, all well-known New York artists, have been selected by the di- rectors of the school to make the awards. Over two hundred invitations have been issued for Wednesday afternoon at 4:3), when the decision will be made public. ‘The room upstairs used by the life class- es has been transformed into a miniature art gallery, nearly all the work shown there being cleverly executed studies in oil and water colors, the latter covering sev- eral large screens and representing the work accomplisted during the past few months by a class organized and instructed by Miss Minnigerode, whose unflagging in- terest has resulted in an exhibition of work that has reached a most interesting stage of artistic progress. The work shown by the portrait classes, which during the past winter have made great advancement under the direction of Prof. Hinckley, is also extremely interest- ing, showing careful instruction and intel- ligent application of the rules governing successful portraiture. Although after June 11 Prof. Andrews will be absent, the classes will continue under the care of Prof. Hinckiey and Miss | Minnigerode until July 1, after which time the school will be ciosed until October. The Corcoran School of Art is rather the outgrowth of a custom than a distinculy established institution of learning. Years ago, availing themselves of the opportunity to study and copy the works of art in the Ccrcoran Gallery, a distinct interest in drawing and painting was developed among a few students of art in Washington. So praiseworthy did this effort appear to the trustees of the gallery that they encour- aged it by reserving three days a week for the use of art students, the public on those days being required to pay a slight admis- sion fee. For a time the number who made use of the gallery in this way was not over fifteen. Finally, so distinctly in earnest ‘were these students, an instructor was pro- vided for them, happily by the selection of Mr. £. F. Andrews, the distinguished Washington artist, and the school has been under his management continuously since. With the award of the gold medal this year a complete decade will be rounded out in the history of the school. The first to receive this medal was Miss Hartwell, to whom it waa given in 185, The following year it was awarded to Miss Mary G. War- ner; in 1887 to Miss Daisy Brown; in 1Ss3 to Lillian Cook; in 1889 to Miss Minnige- rode; in 189) to Rosa Simons; in 1891 to Juliette Thom; son; in to Catherine Critch to Daisy King; in 1894 to Miss Margaret D. Bal From a mem- bership of about fifteen, ten years ago, the school has grown, so that there are now over two hundred students, pursuing al- most every line of art work. ‘The gold medal has uniformly been given for the best work from life or the antique. Wke exhibition which marks the close of From the Antique. year is, however, comprehensive in all of study. The exhibition of water vs by the class under Miss Minnige- ’s instruction this year presents some Wreeptionally bold and earnest work, which Fires prone promise of talent yet to ae- Velop in this tine. Among those who show especial aptitude in water colors are Miss t and the Princess Cantacuzene. good work has been done in the under the tuition of Prof. , the well-known portrait medal in 1887, is now engaged in design- ing for Tiffany & Co. in stained glass work. Miss King, who took the medal in 1803, has applied herself to sculpture, studying with Mr. Dunbar and Mr. Ellicott, and now has a studio at her nome. Miss Min- nigerode, who was the gold medalist of 1889, has proved herself a most excellent teacher here in the school, and disiiactly promises excellent work of her own in the near future. She studied for two months last year under Mr, Chase and lhoda Holmes Nichols at the Shinnecock school ard will spend this summer at Ecouen in the family of M. Chialiva, near Paris, con- tinuing her studiés. Miss Juliette -Thomp- son, who took the medal ir. 1891, has given during the past season a most interesting exhibition of pastels at the Fischer gallery, Miss Critcher, the medalist of 1802, is still working here’ and conducting a class suc- cessfully. Miss Margaret Baker, the daugh- ter of Dr. Frank Baker of the Smithsonian, having taken the medal last year, is still a student. Miss Hartwell, the first gold medalist, is, I beiieve, still studying in Critics. Paris, where she has been a successful artist for many years.” The school has occupied since its endow- ment by Mr. Corcoran a small building adjoining the Corcoran Art Gallery on the north. This, while convenient, is hardly suflicient for the number of students who avail themselves of its advantages. Tne trustees of the gallery have provided splen- didly for the school in the new rallery which is now being built on 17th street. Few similar ingtitutions will have more ample space or convenient studios than are here placed at the disposal of the art stu- dents of Washington. On each of the four floors large rooms have been specially set apart for the school. Three of these have north light through large windows; one opens to the west. A students’ staircase, excluded from the uses of the gallery, connects the different floors. The studio rocm on the second and third floors will be 40 by 48 feet, the latter room having mag- nificent skylight. In addition to thes? rooms, the students will have the use of the room on the basement floor, beneath the auditorium, which is 45 by 64 feet. ecg ates Colossal Children. From the Blackburn Times. ‘The quaint ttle town of St. Nicholas, in East Flanders, boasts the possesion of two children of such extraordinary abnormal growth as to put completely in the shade all similar infant prodigies of the past or present. These veritable Brobdignagian youngsters are boy and girl. The elder, Master Clemeat Smedst, is fifteen years of age, and weighs no less than four hundred and twenty pounds (thirty stone); the cir- cumference of his body is six feet six inches; he measures thirty-six inches round the leg and twenty-eight inches round the arm. His sister Bertha is eight years old and turns the scales at two hun- dred and twenty-four pounds (sixteen stone). In spite of their enormous dimen- sions their activity is remarkable, for they trip and skip about with all the agility of other children of an equal age. It is an as- tonishing sight to see these infant moun- tains of humanity romping about in coun- try lanes with other children of the village. One would imagine them to be the offspring of a race of giants, so high do they tower over the heads of their little playfellows. Their appearance is decidedly interesting, both having extremely handsome and reg- ular features. Bertha, like other girls of tender years, delights in nursing a doll, which seems ludicrously out of place and Proportion in the arms of the young giant- ess, The couple are attracting the atten- tion of the country around, and on fine days crowds of people flock into the quiet little town in order to catch a glimpse of these colossal children, SOME WAR STORIES Representative Sayers of TexasChats of His Experiences. OF FIELD AND CAMP INCIDENTS A Water Famine and the Effect on a Battery. AVMGALLANT YOUTH K ILLED A MAN? NO. I've ordered my bat- tery to fire, and have fought it from day- light until dark, but personally, and with my own hand, I never, so far as I know, killedor wounded a Yankee.” Representative Joe Sayers of Texas it was who made the answer set forth above. Mr. Sayers and The Star writer were in the appropria- tions committee rooms at the time, and the former, released from active work in the House for that afternoon by virtue of a Ust cf funeral orations due that day to the memory of a dead Representative, had time to be reminiscent. “As I look back over my war experi- ences,” observed Mr. Sayers, retrospective- ly, “I dort recall but one real good oppor- tunity to shoot anybody which came per- sonally my way. We kad blundered upon a brigade of Yankees and got into a fighter Neither side was out looking for the other, and it was more or less of a surprise to both. I was detailed at headquarters at the time, and employed during the two or three hours of fighting in carrying dis- patches from one point to another. “I was going to the extreme left of the fight On one occasion. When the Yankees went into action they had their knapsacks and blankets on their backs. They had taken them off, and left them in one long winrow, lying on the ground. The surge of the battle had driven them back from this line, and it so fell out that as I rode alcng I was skirting this ridge of knap- sacks and biankets. It was a good deal of personal property to leave lying around, but both the Yankees and we were pretty busy that day, and none of us had time to leok after it as we would have liked. “As I caatered along the Itne of knap- sacks I wasn’t looking for the enemy. The battle was going on a half mile away, and as tha Yankees had been forced back from their first position the confederates were between me and the foe. This being the ground plan of the situation, I was, as you may well believe, a trifle astonished, even discouraged, when a big Yankee suddenly sprang up from among the knapsacks and stapped his Enfield at me. The gun didn’t go off, which may account for my being the chairman of the appropriations com- mittce. Before I could make the slightest return to the point blank civilities of my friend of the opposite party, he cast his gun to the ground with a wrathful curse and turned and ran away like a deer, “My six-shooter was by that time in my hand, and I spurred after him in hot, in- stinctive pursuit. I ran up within six feet cf my man, and, pointing my pistol at the gentleman in blue, called on him to sur- rerder. He only made some disrespectful observation, and ran the faster, without even turning his head. This, of course, Was my cue to shoot, but somehow I could not do it. The business locked too much like butchery. But’I felt the military neces- sity of capturing my man. That was what we were there for, to kill, wound or cap- ture each other, and E eouldn’t regard my- self as having done my duty unless I was able to report a success as to one of the three propositions. “But do my best I couldn’t make it. Time and agein I rode fairly up to my Yankee until the nose of my horse stuck over his shoulder. I called.on him to stop and become a2 captive a dozen times. In fact, f carried on a long conversation with him, only he didn’t say anything more relevant to the business in hand than a string of profanity. Four or five times I thought of shooting, but it was no use. I wasn’t built to shoot people in the back. Once I concluded to hit him a rap with my pistol; that was toward the last of the chase. I did strike at him,: but missed, and in my enthusiasm came mighty near leaving the saddie to stand on my head. “I pulled up then and asked myself ‘What's the use?’ I concluded to let my friend run on if he wanted to. If I shot him down it wouldn’t end the war. It would go on just the same and last just as long. One Yankee more or less wouldn't cut any figure. He was running toward the north, too, running in the right direc- tion; so after watching him skip along like an antelope awhile I turned my horse and kept on with my dispatches. I've often wondered since what became of my run- away Yankee who would not surrender, and whether he went safely home at last. “When I was in command of a battery there were several months during which I was supported by a couple of companies which were recruited in Arizona. They were a gentlemanly set of people; superb card players, and it was a current bit of gossip in that part of the confederacy that every soldier in these two Arizona com- panies had killed his man in, private en- counter. They were commanded by Maj. Herbert, cousin, I think, to Secretary Her- bert; a good soldier and an elegant gentle- man. Older Washington folk will readily recall this Maj. Herbert.” Just before the war, in the very late ‘50's, he was a mem- ber of Congress. It unfortunately chanced, too, without. the slightest fault on the side of Maj. Herbert, that he shot and killed a tan in Willard’s Hotel. The shooting took place in what is now the long reception room; it was then the dining room, “These men of Maj. Herbert's were pro- found card sharps, as I say. They got to gambling with my men; and not only won all their money, which I didn’t care about, but they won haif the sabers and_ six- shooters my men were armed with. I had | a great row getting them back, and wouldn’t have succeeded then except for the vigorous commands of Maj. Herbert to his men to produce. Then it was they sul- lenly brought in the pistols and sabers; they had wrapped them in blankets and burjed them, to keep me from finding them. I verily believe if I hadn't interfered those Arizona people whom Herbert had with him would have won my whole battery. 1 understood afterward that one of my men tried to open a jackpot with my No. 3 gu but others of the detail wouldn’t have it. “Maj. Herbert was extremely proud of his.men, as, indeed, I was of mine. This almost led to a serious misunderstanding between us. We were in northern Louisi- ana at the time, and, being stationed there for some months, Herbert became acquaint- ed with a family who lived near at hand. They were wealthy planter folks, and Herbert became a great favorite with them. It was he who introduced me at the house, and we put in many a pleasant evening with our friends of the plantation. “One day Herbert sent his orderly to my tent to ask if I wouldn’t come over to his quarters at once. When I got there I found Herbert in high wrath and dud- geon. i “Maj. Sayers,’ he said, ‘some of your men were over last night to our friends’ home. They have stolen six bee gums, sir. I feel very deeply in the matter, sir; the more so that I introduced you at the house, sir, myself. I want you to search your battery and find the miscreants and punish them to the limit, sir. It is a great outrage and shouldn't be allowed to go un- noticed a moment. Your men should be taught to behave themselves, sir.’ “I was only twenty-two years old and as ardently loyal to my men as a boy of that age naturally would be. I flushed up in a moment. “Before we go so quickly to this matter | of punishing my men,’ I said, ‘I’d like to ask, Maj. Herbert, how you.know my men stole these bee gums. Possibly the negroes did it, or possibly it was some of your own people.’ “My people, sir,’ repeated the major, very indignantly, ‘my people would never touch what didn’t belong to them. More- over, sir, they know how friendly I am with the family, and would no more go near that house for any unlawful purpose, no more think of stealing those bee gums, }on their own hook, I never found out. sir, than I would myself -My men ‘are too thoroughly gentlemen tq steal bee gums, sir.” “This sounded all right, but I recalled how these same gentientet had won my men’s sabers and six-shooters and then hid them in the swamp.gLqwasn’t so sure about their uprightness touching bee gums. At any rate, I made Up my mind that when my battery was pu: med it would be after they had been convicted on evidence not to be denied. So I turned to. Herbert again. “‘T've no doubt, majorf I}said, ‘but what you believe all you say Of your men. But I'm just as sure on my part that none of my battery would steal a bee gum. Still, I'll tell you what I would suggest. I'll parade my men; you patad® yours. If six bee gums have been stolen it’s among :he certainties that the majefagtors got well stung in the enterprise. They'll show it, too; and if we order out our men we won't have any trouble picking out the bee hunters.’ “Major Herbert scoffed at the idea that any of his men could possibly be guilty, but consented in the perfection of his fair- ness to make the test I suggested. Five minutes after, my bugles and Herbert's drums were sounding and rolling, and our men were falling into line. As it turned cut every one of my fellows answered to his name, and there wasn’t a mark on one of them. Herbert, on the other hand, was shy eleven men, and when finally they were hented up and. dragged out, their hands and faces were all puffed and swollen from bee stings. The larceny of the bee gums was solved. “The hardest campaign I was in,” con- tinued Major Sayers, “was through New Mexico after Gen. Canby. It didn’t work. What from battle and disease and privation we lost three-quarters of our men in nine months, and got back into Texas with only a handful. I recollect how we intercepted a dispatch from Canby, who was then at Fort Craig on the Rio Grande. 1t was sent to the officer in command at Fort Union. After referring’ to our presence in New Mexico he said: ‘But let them alone for the present; we will dig our potatoes when they are ripe.’ “I didn’t understand until afterward that we were ‘the potatoes’ Canby was talking about. It was a lack of water and general supplies which worsted us, rather than any fighting we got into. Still Canby had a terrible set of people with him; they would fight like tigers. I remember what a sergeant of my battery said to me after a brush we had with ‘em in the valley of Rio Grande. “ ‘Major,’ sald the sergeant to me a few days after the battle, ‘whar did you say these Yanks came from we've been against the last three days?” “ ‘Colorado,’ I replied. ‘I understand Canby enlisted them in Calorado. Why? “‘Oh, nothing particular,’ rejoined the sergeant, ‘only I half way allowed from the way they fit, they’d been recruited ‘n h--1." “My most exciting adventure and the cre which cost me the most was on an occa: sion when my whole valtery ran away. My mules and horses hal been 1a one of those New Mexico deserts and away from water tor almost two days. The men had a little in their canteens, but the horses and mules had not seen a drop. At the last of the sec- ond day we were closing up toward a lake, where we expected to camp that night. About four miles from the pond or lake the mules and horses got a smell of the water, and the next moment the whole hat- tery was on the dead run. Bridle reins were broken, bits were yanked an.J sawed until the blood ran out of the animals’ mcuths. But no power short of death in their tracks could stop them. They were starved for water. The crazy animals rushed out into the lake taking guns, cais- sons, wagons, everything, that was hitched to them. And then they began to sink. It was a quicksand lake; and we had a floundering time of it. I lobt one of my guns, and had two scdre ef horses and mules drowned before "we Stood on firm grourd again. OF “The saddest page in that) New Mexico campaign was the death of one of our officers. He was only atboy,and had com- mand of a company of Incers. There were about thirty men in the company, and their main arm was d bowie knife lashed to a lance shaft. -I don’t believe there were fifteen guns<in the outfit. One morning we were getting ready for a fight with Canby. The Yankees—these same Col- orado fellows—were falling dnto line; and we were going through some preliminary steps ourselves. Suddeuiy. I Saw this com- pany of lancers, headed by ‘their boy. offi- cer, come surging out cfsa little valley close to where the Yatikees: were in line ard charge them. 8 “The lancers were all alone; and whether they had been ordered to the:duty, or were AS they charged through the Yankees I don’t think a gun was fired. The blue line scem- ed to open in places. and gaps and let them charge through. But the moment they were through to the rear of the’ nkees the shooting began. Not one man of them ever got back.. Our whole command charg- ed at this time, and we succeeded in driv- ing the enemy a half a mile. We recovered our boy officer, wounded to death, shot in three places. He couldn't sive, so the doc- tor told him. That night he was lying in one of the doby Mexican hous made a hospital of. The moon w ing, and he asked to be placed close to the open door where he could see across the sandy desert toward Texas. At last he asked one of the boys about his norse. It was a splendid animal which he had Urcught from his own home. “Did they get my horse?’ he asked. “When he was told that we had his horse all safe, he had one of the men lead the animal up to the door where he could lock at him. There he lay with his one sound arm caressing his horse’s muzzle. The animal seemed to know him, too, and rubbed his nose in his face, as if delighted to find hix master again. “All at once a pistol went off, and the flaSh shone in the interior of the doby like lightning. The horse sprang back and then stood trembling and snorting. The boy soldier had taken his pistol, which was lying near, and shot himself through the brain. He was dead when we got to him.” SS On the Wrong Track. From the Detroit Free Press. The school had been dismissed from the log school house in the mountains, and the children went scurrying away just in time for me to meet the schoolmuster as I rode by. He was a long, lanky, lazy kind of a mountaineer, about as unlike an educator as one could imagine, but he answered the purpose. ; “How d'y’ do?” said I, riding up along- side. : “How d’y?” said he. “Is your day’s work done?” said I. “Yes, an’ I'm glad uv it,” said he. “Don't you like it?” said I. “Only sorter,” said he. “Are they so hard to teach as that?” said IL. “Some uv ’em is,” sald. he. “Are they small scholars?” said I. “Mostly, except one; she’s about twenty,” said he. “I should think she would be easy to teach,” said I, with a smile, He looked at me with a quick, uncertain look, but there was no smile in it, “You know anything about gals, mister?” said he very earnestly. “I know they are the loveliest things on earth,” said I, with ardor. “T've heerd that afore,” said he, lugu- briously. i : “Don't you believe it?’ sald I. ain’t saying,” said he. “You don’t mean io tell me ‘hat this girl of twenty gives you any trouble?” said I. “That's what,” said he, with more energy than he had before displayed. “Can't she learn?’ said I. “She don’t seem to,” said he. “Why not?” said I. This time he shook his head and spoke with emphasis. “Dog my cats ef I know,” said he. “I've been tryin’ fer the last three months to learn her that I wuz the feller she oughter splice onto, but the more I try the I learns. I've got two more months uy yit, and I ain't goin’ to give up a-try: but ef I don’t get her learnt by that time, I'm going to throw up my job an’ hire out asa farm hand. I reckon, mebbe, I ain't cut out for an eddicator nohow.” It began to dawn upon me that possibly he was right, but I did what I could to encourage him till he left me at the forks of the road ——__—-+ e+. Mowed a Fishing Pond. From the Minneapolis Journal. = The story is told cf how M. E. Wallace fooled the pickerel in the upper lake. The weeds were very heavy, and every time he hooked @ twelve-pounder the fish would jump into the weeds, tangle the lines all up and get away. Mr. Wallace stood this for some time. Finally, he rowed ashore and hired from a farmer a mowing ma- chine and two horses. Divesting himself of his garments, he devoted the day to mowing the whole upper lake, cutting the weeds close to the bottom. The next day he caught twelve fourteen-pound pickerel, every one of which was badly scratched from swimming over the stubble, THE CAPTURE OF A PRESIDENT ee BY WILLIAM H. WASSELL (Copyrighted, 1895, by Wm. H. Wassell.) ‘This is a story of a line officer and a staff officer. One of our honored Presidents and the gracious first lady of the land appear in the story, and also a band of hostile In- dians, in full charge, with all the ochre paint and eagle feathers that are a part of their war toggery. The colonel himself told me this story, but, having heard many of the colonel’s tales, I was, mortally afraid he would get the characters so mixed, or £0 overstep the rules of historical accuracy that he would not be able to finish the stury. My fears, however, were ill-founded. He introduced no scientific impossibilities; he violated no rules of time, place or mili- tary regulations. At the bottom of the scventh bottle—the colonel’s audience was rot a small one—the story was terminated, a complete, coherent and connected whole. Once a President,. the commander-in-chief of the military forces of our country, shook the dust of Washington from his feet and traveled westward to the Pacific coast. He visited many of the principal towns and cities, and his observing eyes’ did not ne- glect the military posts. He was a good President, himself a soldier, and he did not consider it an inconvenience if he had to leeve his comfortable private car and travel by ambulance to some distant post, where his illustrious presence would be re- ceived with all the honors due him as the head of the army. Nor did the ladies of the party shudder at the thoughts of bar- Growler’s eager listener saw him dig the spurs into his horse. “Why, what's the matter?” she exclaim. ed, and then as her eyes followed the stal- wart horseman a little frightened “Oh” burst from her. In a moment all was excitement. The gentlemen of the party leaped to the ground, running aimlessly a few paces in advance of the ambulance, as though, un- armed, to protect their gentle companions. They could see Growler shading his eyes with one hand while he scanned the hills. Then horse and rider dashed toward the ane party. “I. assure you, ladies,” said he, sweepin; his hat low to’ the ground, “there le not the slightest possible danger. I cannot say that this is a peace party, but you are perfectly safe. The Indians outnumber us, but not sufficiently to make an attack Consider it,” he added with a little laug ‘just as a show arranged for your benefit. He carefully inspected the ambulance, dismounted the cavalry escort to see that the horses’ girths were all right, saw that the men were well supplied with ammuni- tion and. then spread out half of them in! a huge semi-circle to the front and flanks of the ambulance. The rest of his men he ordered in rear of the wagons, to be ready moment's notice t a cnet arene ‘0 gallop to a threat. “Take up a steady trot,” lead driver iy anid he to the fe would not gallop the mules, for it was at least fifteen miles to the post. and he knew that any show of haste on his e considered as a si = ness by the Indians, pings adenre @ Sioux were keeping their distance. The country was well suited to their mode of warfare. Low hills stretched far away to the right and left, from the top of none of them could a white man see into the bottom of the next coolle. But the Heu- tenant’s trained brain knew that in ever; hiding place lurked the wily foe, and tha’ every movement of the little column was signaled by the braves on the hilltops back to *heir hidden allfes. ren prairies and alkalf dust, and a night’s lodging at a ranch, where the conversation of the inhabitants ran from so many head of cattle to so many bushel of potatoes and then back again to the cattle and horses. But there was a staff officer on this in- specting tour whose interests lay in Wash- ington, where he had long been stationed. His knowledge of soldiering was purely of a hearsay nature, and, although he knew how to ask an influential Senator to have a drink, he would have been utterly lost if required to march a company over a hot Indian trail. Deep and long were his ejac- ujations when the presidential party left the railroads and got into ambulances. The alkali dust settled on his clothes and in his threat, and, when the ladies were out of sight, he could not bring himself to take a drink from a tin cup and then wash it dcwn with alkaline water from the same tin cup. After all, he thought, the political influences that had kept him in Washing- ton so long, and had enabled him to travel with the President, had many drawbacks. Whey it was known at Fort Barrenall that the President was to honor the post by a visit, great and elaborate preparations were mede for his reception. The com- manding officer realized that a journey of eighty miles trom the railroad was tire- scme traveling at best, and, in order to bring the party to the post as quickly as pessible, he arranged three relays of trans- pertation along the route, sending with each an officer and a mounied escort. When the presidential party got off the train at Delman they were promptly saluted by a swagger-looking lieutenant, and in- fermed that the ambulances were in wait- ing for them. After traveling thirty miles this lieutenant turned the party over to a chd escort, which attempted to beat the ‘mile record made by the first, and then, wich tired mules and horses, gave place to the escort that was to take the perty into Fort Barrenall. | * said the old colonel, story begins. It would be a poor story, and probably no one would know it, if that staff officer had not been with the President. You know, the third relay and escort was commanded by Lieut. Growler— he’s dead now, poor fellow. Well, Growler was a rough-and-ready sort of a chap, for- ever in trouble in a garrison, but without an equal on actual field service. He was a great talker and a great grumbier. In sum- mer he raved at the heat; in winter he stormed at the cold. If it rained, all the unpleasantness of the frontier was due to water; if the earth were parched, he de- clared the west wovid be all right if it had plenty of water. In a garrison he be- moaned his inactivity; cut on field service he cursed the luck that was forever send- ing him out against Indians. His opinions were sometimes right, more often wrong, but always for the time being as unchange- able as the everlasting pyramids. Of course, he had many hobbies, but his greatest, and one he was never tired of riding, was in re- gard to the political influences that gave some officers pieasant details and kept their superiors, so far as records went, roughing it on the frontier. “ ‘How does it benefit me,’ he would say, ‘to have been on a dozen Indian campaigns? When they want a men for a four years’ detail in the east do they pick me out be- cau I've done gore than my share of In- dian fighting? Not a bit of it. If I went out single-handed and whipped a tribe of reservation jumpers back to their agency no one would offer me a snap detail. Oh, ne; not unless I had the influence of an en- ergetic Congressman. But, never mind, my turn will come some day.’” When the commanding officer at Barren- all detailed officers in charge of the relays. for the President, Growler made a special request, so the colonel said, to be given the escort that would bring the party into the post. This would be Growler’s chance, ev- ery one thought. He would do things in style; put up a tent on the prairie, serve a Tuncheon and cool drinks, and then gallop the refreshed party into the post. In this way, so his brother officers ‘reasoned, the party would be grateful, the Presidént’s at- tention would be attracted, and then Growler would be at Mberty to ask for any detail he wanted. But, to every one’s surprise, the grum- bling Meutenant made no preparations for the President’s comfort. He took nothing but the rough ambulances furnished by the government and the detailed escort of cav- alrymen. When the second relay turned the party over to him he merely hastened the august personage into the wagon, and gave the teamsters orders to make the best possible time. He had several extra horses, and, as ill-luck would have it, the staff offi- cer decided to side one of them. “Just what conversation they had,” said the colonel, ‘will never be known, for Growler was always silent on that point. I have my own cpinion that he got in one of his talkative moods, and ranted on the doings of staff officers in general, until thi$ particular officer ordered him to stop. And I'll wager that this staff officer lis- tened to the pros and cons of every order and decision that had emanated from Washington during the ten years previous. Changing the infantry trouser stripe from black to white, and adding a lot of fancy gew-gaws to the blouse were changes made in Washington that but poorly suited the men who wore them in the west, and it is safe to say that these and everything else that gave Growler a chance to grumble were laid directly at the doorway of this ill-fated staff officer.” < Fort Barrenall, according to the colonel, was about the same in those days as it is new—a little oasis at the end of eignty miles of sandy desert. On the way from the railroad the traveler could see one ranch, one white man, numerous half breeds ayd thousands of savages. The latter were of primary interest to the president’s party, the slouching bucks with their blankets drawn over their slop- ing shoulders, the hard-working squaws ever carrying wood to cook the meals for their noble spouses or else skirmishing around for the meat that pas to fill the stomachs of the same braves, the children ¢fothed only in dirt—all these were curi- osities to the inspecting party. One of the ladies asked the lentenant if the Indians were contented with their reservation and rations, and if there was any possibility of them going to war. Grewler assured his fair interrogator that the government forces were sufficient to check any such movements and that the Indians were perfectly harmless, owing to their fear and respect for the soldiers. He was riding close to the ambulance, for it was a pleasure to him to answer the eager questions. How did an Indian on the war- path look? Were they very cruel to their foes? Was it true that they could shoot as well with their arrows as the soldiers with their guns? And Growler for once forgot to grumble. His knowledge of In- dian life was unlimited, and in his interest- ing way he beguiled the long miles of the journey. Suddenly one of the troopers came gal- loping back and asked permission to speak to “the Meutenant.” “There are a lot of Ind’yuns over there, sir,” said the man, “an’ they’re actin’ queer.” Growler dug his spurs into his horse and galloped to the front. Sure enough, just over the crest ef the hill were a number of Indians mounted on their sturdy ponies. ‘They were about a mile away, but Growler was too old a campaigner not to know the signs of hostility. ‘With a question dying on her pretty lips | Every few minutes Growler rode up to the ladies to reassure them of their satety. The very sight of an armed Indian changed him from the weak grumbler to the stern-faced soldier, and brought the blood of excitement to the cheeks that were tanned by western exposure. He was no longer the careless officer; he was now the dashing soldier, his thoughts divided between saving the party and calming the ladies. “Look at that,” exclaimed the staff offi- cer, pointing to an Indian a mile ahead. ‘What is he doing? “Merely exercising his pony,” lied the lieutenant, biting his lip to keep down the excitement. Far to the front rode the brave, with hideously painted face and body. His pony was decorated in savage splendor, while the rider, with gun held high in the air, was riding at a gallop in small circles. “Good God,” muttered Growler, but his face never changed expression, “if this staff officer here knew what that riding means he would throw every: lady here into a spasm of fear.” “Just watch him,” he said aloud. “Isn’t he a graceful rider? Where is the Cossack or Arab who can equal him?” But beneath his assumed calmness the Heutenant well knew that this riding in a circle was a signal for concentration. His practiced eye caught occasional glimpses of brown, naked bodies racing their steaming ponies toward the point ahead. Many of them wore war bonnets, with eagle feath- ers that fluttered down over the ponies’ foaming flanks. Some of them waved their rifles in the air and chanted a hoarse, gut- tural note of defiance. Some shook their untanned shields and held aloft their huge bows, four feet long. Once Growler caught sight of a young warrior brandishing his coup stick, and then he took the staff ofti- cer to one side and explained to him that, in the heat of battle. whatever a warrior etruck with one of these sticks thereafter belonged to him. “If we pass the point where that devil is charging around in a circle,” continued Growler to the staff officer alone, “‘we will be all right, and in that case I am going to ask the President for a four years’ detail in Washington. If we don’t get past that point—well, I will not want the detail.” Then he galloped to the front with his men. : The only road to the post ran directly below the hill where the Indians were massing, but Growler pushed his troopers well to the front and scared up several small covies of the foe. ‘Don’t fire a shot until you get my orders,” he cautioned the men, realizing that his only course lay in putting on a bold front and delaying the atteck. As they neared the threatened hill, he increased his forces on that flank, still keeping the ambulances well covered on all sides. Suddenly, two warriors dashed down to- ward the approaching cavalrymen. Chant- ing a war song as they galloped, on they came until within two hundred yards of the soldiers, then suddenly wheeling to the right, they lashed their ponies along the flank of the ambulance train. The others bicke up into small groups, fell back as the troopers continued their steady advance, and then rode pell-mell to discover a weak point in the thin line of the escort. But the lieutenant had seen them do this cn many a previous occasion, and wherever they appeared in greatest numbers, there they found the greater part of the troopers. The mules of the ambulances never for a moment sluckened their steady gait. Ex- cept for the wild contortions of the savages, and their threatening cries, the game was for all the world like some sport of school heys. Not for a moment did *the rage of the warriors abate. First at the head of the column, then at the rear they dashed, ever to find their plans anticipated. Final- ly, they withdrew their exhausted ponies, and with a 500-yard interval, trotted even with the soldiers. Like disappointed vul- tures they watched the little party gain mile after mile toward their goal, the post. At last, just as Growler caught sight of the distant flagstaff at Barrenall, with the old flag flying at its top, the Indians gave a lest howl of unsatisfied rage and galloped 1 * said the staff officer in a re- lieved tone, “your services in this part of the country are too valuable to be spared.” “That is just what I expected,” answered the lieutenant, and then he settled back into his old grumbling state. On the following day all Barrenall was drinking the good health of the President, Lis party and Growler. When they had drunk ail imaginable good luck to them, they fell to toasting the first things that entered their minds—anything, everything for a toast. At this stage of peace and good-will toward all mankind, Growler, by some ill chance, drank to the good detail he was expecting. “That's right,” hiccoughed the staff off- cer, “you deserve it, and I'll get it for you, so I will. 1 know a good man when I see him, and the way you pushed through those Irdians.” “Get out,” hiccoughed back Growler. “You don’t know an Indian from a wooden sign in front of a cigar store. That wasn't an Indian fight. I gave old Mato Wakan $10 to get up a sham fight for my snap de- tail, and you couldn’t tell the difference, Here's to my detail. “Which you will never get,” drank the staff officer. Their Amusement. From Trath. Amateur Yachtsman. for amusement up here?” Clam Digger.—‘We watch you city fel- lows sail beats Vhat do you do From Life. A Drop in Wheat. A Slave From Boyhood. From the Red Wing, Minn., Republican. “Iam now twenty-four years old,” Edwin Swanson of White Rock, Goofhde county, Minn., to @ Republican representative, “and as you can sce I am not very lavge of stature. When I wa eleven years old I became afflicted with a sick- ness which baflied the skill and knowledge of th physician. I was not taken suddenly ill, but on the contrary I can hardly state the exact time when it began. The first symptoms were pains in my ‘K and restless nights. The disease did not troule me much at first, but it seemed to bave setUled in my body to stay, and my bitter experi- ence during the last thirteen years proved that to be the case, I was of course a child and never dreamed of the suffering in store for me. I com- plained to my parents and they concluded that in time I would outgrow my trouble, but when they heard me groaning during my sleep they became thoroughly alarmed. Medical advice was’ sought, Dut to no avail. I grew rapidly worse and was soon unable to move about and finally became confined continually to my bed. The best doctors that could be had were consulted, but did nothing for me. I tried various kinds of extensively ad- vertised patent medicines with but the same re sult. “For twelve long years I was constant azery without respite. on my body in rapid succession and the world in- deed looked very dark to me. About this time, when all hope was gone and nothing seemed left but to resign myself to my most bitter fate, my attention was called to Dr. Williams’ Pink Pilis for Pale People. Like a drowning man grasping at a straw, in sheer desperation I concluded to make one more attempt—not to regain my health {I dare not to hope so much), but if possible to ease my pain. “I bought a box of the pills and they seemed to do me good. I felt encouraged and contin- ued their use. After taking six boxes I was up and able to walk around the house. I have not felt so well for thirteen years as during the past year. Only one year have I taken Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills and I am able now to do chores and attend to light duties, “Do I hesitate to let’ you publish what I have said? No. Why should I? It ts the truth and I am only too glad to let other sufferers know my ex- perience. It may help those whose cup of misery 1s as full today as mine was in the past.” Dr. Williums’ Pink Pills contain, in a condensed form, all the elements necessary to give now life and richness to the biood and restore shattered nerves. They are also a specific for troubles pe- culiar to females, such as su ities ‘and all” forms of, weakicas. ‘es the blood, and restore the glow of and sallow choeks. In men they effect a cure in all cases arising from mental worry, over- work or excesses of whatever nature. Pink Pills are sold in boxes (never in loose bulk) at 50 cents a box or six boxes for $2.50, ahd may be had of ail ts, or direct by ‘mall from Dr. Wile ams’ Medicine Company, Schenectady, N.¥. TAKE THE EASY WAY! Don't spend half of your life learning Bow to be comfortaMe! Look around— zee how other people do-it you could Icok over our shoulder at these big books on our desk—if you could sce the names that are written there—it you could stay here in our office a half day and watch the line of people—waiting to pay “a little something on account”— you'd quit doing without the Furniture you meed—and you'd quit saving up te CREDIT IS THE SHORT CUT TO COMFORT. It is yours without asking—without giving notes—witbout paying interest— and mark you these words—our credit prices are the CASH prices of other stores—and we have marked everything in plain figures, so that you can judge for yourself. There are a thousand rolls of Matting here for you to select from— we'll tack it down—free. 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