Evening Star Newspaper, June 22, 1895, Page 16

16 BOARDING IN PARIS The Splendor as Well as the Discom- fort Described, POPULAR WITH AMERICAN TOURISTS The Main Occupation of the Ladies is Shopping. THE BILL WITH EXTRAS Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, June 8, 1895. T IS IN THE \ Ee of that new Paris which is called American. It is west- ern, it is new and It is clean. The en- trance to the quarter ] trom the central part of the great city, which does not al- ways smell of roses and is often dingy, is by the wide, opea Place de la Concorde. The obelisk is here, upproximately on the spot where stood the guillotine a hundred years ago. Directly to your left there stretches a wide avenue, flanked by long groves of trees on either side and ending in the famous Arch of Triumph, seen in the far distance. It is the avenue of the Champs Elysees, the promenade of Paris’ elegant in thou- sands of smart turrouts—the matn street of Paris for Americans, that is to say, Americans who are a credit to their coun- try, not hairy and bedraggled students of the arts and sciences, for whom the slums of Vavugirard are plenty good enough, but fine, well-washed, erect and powerful mar- ried ladies, who have husbands home at Give Me the Luxuries of Existence. work in every city of our great and glori- ous land. The avenue is broad and fair, and fresh and green and gay. There is a boarding house much resorted to by Americans in the Quartier Marbeuf, say half way down the avenue and to the left, The houses are all high and regular, of creamy white stone, long since turned ean blue or yellow (according to the ight effects) in the damp, smoky atmos- phe of Paris. Each house, six stories Bish, has its eternal garniture of fanciful iron balconies, like a gray skirt with half @ dozen darkish flounces. Each house is large enough to be a hotel by itself, with one great central doorway, through which carriages may drive to the large central court, thexei to be washed and housed and have their horses stabled. So fleas abound on every floor. Entering this common doorway for a dozen families a splendid winding marble staircase strikes the view. At the same instant one makes the acquaintance of the concierge, her husband also, and of the fresh and rosy servant maid, who answers to the name of Marie, though her name is really Anna, for she is a blonde Alsatian, with big blue eyes. t is the business of the concierge (the janitor) to say if you are in or out. Be- cause it is a boarding house, and quite a large one, it is seldom that she answers ac- curately, She comes out with a cup of cof- feo in her hands, which she is always drinking, and yet never finishes, and gives your visitors her wrong impressions with @ certain dazed good nature. She is a stout dame, who once had a waist; but her time of coquetry is passed. She also guards the elevator. There is no elevator boy. Two persons only at a time can squeeze themselves into the little car, which moves with frightful slowness. And everybody is forbidden to ride down, because it wastes the power. The elevator is for the use of “masters” only; that is, paying boarders and their friends. All servants, laundresses, shop runners and the like must take the stairs. The runners from the shops come in as- tounding numbers, with their boxes, bundles, packages. From the big stores and all the cholcer, smaller shops of the Rue de la Paix and the Avenue of the Opera the uniformed delivery men come daily to this tourist camping ground, and this in spite of the assertions you hear nightly in the dining room that everything is fresher, cheaper, better in New York. The chatter of the dining room ts that of uying, buying, buying. All the morning jong the hallways of six flights of stairs are cluttered up with handsome ladies in gay morning wraps who strain and tug at trunks. The trunks are in the hallways for the reason that there are too many trunks already in the bed rooms. Another man with a-big box for Mrs. Charles G. Buy- itall! “The cambric chemises of madame.” “Marie, tell that man to taisez vous, for goodness sake!” “Jane, I'm almost sorry that I bought those gloves for John, they take up so much space!” There is one hallway which is never liter- ed up with trunks, that of the second floor. Here all the public life goes on, between the salons and the dining room. Here gen- tlemen may stand around and smoke a half hour after each meal. A colored gentleman from Algiers stands and smokes among the Whites. At table he sits between two French girls, who enjoy his conversation and his dusky tint with equal satisfaction. There is no color line in Paris. For the life of me I cannot understand why all the wealthy colored people of America do not ccme over to enjoy the liberty, equality and fraternity. Of course, the American boarders will not sit next to this darkey, who is clean, well educated, witty and well dressed. But all the others treat him with the more consid- eratioa on account of this. “Poor fellow, Dally Consultation of the Trank: {is not his fault that he is black!” “I ‘e the color, for my part!” “Americans so Inconsistent! You set the slaves free and now you will not treat them like men!” It is the lunch hour. The first breakfast, which consists of cafe-au-lalt, butter and {indigestible but delightful little breakfast lis, is takert in the bed rooms. The lunch ur sees the hosts assemble, all the ladies essed for shopping, and their husbands ellowed with half a dozen Leas | drinks Henry’s bar. For your lunch they bring fou fish or eggs, a Chop or steak, a veg- ble and fruit and cheese. Dinner comes mg at half-past 6 p.m., with soup, fish, od meat, a Vegetable, roast chicken or . Sa farkez {the fatter never “stuffed,” but with ts scattered members sprawling in a sea of watery gravy), then a salad, then a Sweet, and then a fruit, with cheese and coffee and the little glass of cognac. The table is so decorated, the dishes have such pretty names in French, the various courses are served with such gravity, that the utmost value possible attaches to each morsel of the food. ‘Coquille de turbot,” is it not delightful, and so French! First, there is a big sea shell—one big shell for every guest. Whatever fish has been left over from the day before is reinforced by a few slices of expensive turbot; the fish is cut up fine, mixed with a creaming paste, diluted with chopped mushrooms; the mix- ture is then spread into the sea shells, powdered thick with grated cheese, and the whole mass is baked a lovely brown. Of course, it is not nourishing, but it looks well. The boarders think that they have eaten something when they only have been playing with their shells. In the, same order of ideas new peas are mixed with equal quantities of shredded lettuce and young onions, the whole being cooked together in a thick sauce. The boarders think that they are eating peas, and, then, besides,’ it is “Parisian.” The little steaks and chops are very cunning—each surrounded by a wreath of water-cress. Undoubtedly, wine drinking at the table helps the stomach to think that it is being fed, when it is orly being complimented. Wine! The young American holds the de- canter to the light, looks at it lovingly, talks of it knowingly, and the fair ladies on his left and right hear him with rapt attention as he speaks of vintages. Wine, Parisian wine, boarding house wine, “the red ink of Bercy!’ It is acid to the sharp- ness of vitriol when it is white, heating to the strength of mustard when it is red, always flavorless, always headachy. , and family board does not exist in Paris. The principle is to get money every way, at every tur pose your room fs one at 11 francs ($2.2 ay. You have your room, your morning coffee, Iunch and dinner for that price. Your wine is extra, your after-dinner cof- fee is extra. Your bed room has no gas, and the petroleum burned in your lamp is extra. Your fires are extra. Use of the bath room is extra. And, lastly, madame dictates to you who shall be your jaun- dress, for she has an understanding with the laundress. There is more of splendor than of com- fort in this Paris bearding house. It al- ways is so full that there is not much room for any cne. An American naval officer, Lis good wife and his charming daughter lived all the winter in two rooms, the largest of which served them as a private parlor. The pretty daughter, a grown-up girl in society, slept in a closet, off her parents’ bed room. No one knew, and it is quite Parisian to sleep in closets. Looking round this pension bourgeoise the visitor from the United States must note it has its good points when com- pared with boarding houses in his own dear land. It is clean. The furniture is solid, hardsome, artistic and with very little of the factory look about it. There is taste in wail decoration, all the win- dews are of splendid plate glass, reaching almost to the floor on every story, the fioors are slippery polished oak. The dis- advantages are draughts and currents of air from the long plate glass French w; dews, the ineffectual but esthetic heati apparatus of the open grate, the practical lack of bath rooms and the necessity of kerosene for lighting. ‘The ladies say the servants all are jew- els. They are so neat and willirg, so con- fidential, so enthusiastic and so helpful. Encouraged by continual tipping they transforn themselves into so. many pri- vate femmes de chambre, to curl the ladies’ hair while they neglect the men of the establishment; they run the ladies’ er- rands, smuggle brandy, cigarettes and extra food up to the ladies’ rooms. The stoutest, oldest, plainest maids make up the bachelors’ rooms. STERLING HEILIG. —_—__—_. The City Man’s Life. From the Chicago Record. “Country people have strange ideas of city life,” said the head bookkeeper, lean- ing back in his chair and addressing the ledger clerk. “I've just received a letter from a friend,” he said, “who lives in a little town in Indiana. He has been to Chicago a few times, but never to stay more than a day or two. “I see by the papers,’ he says, ‘that you have had a strike in Chicago and that there is talk of calling out the troops. What a strike-ridden city Chicago is, any- way! I should think you'd all begin to dread what the next day might bring forth, “Now, I can’t tell what strike he refers to. I haven't seen the least evidence of one nor heard of it. The fact is, my friend has the idea that I must be perfectly fa- miliar with every murder, every suicide and every bank robbery that happens in the city, and that I attend all the horrible street-car accidents. On the same prin- e.gie Utat nothing happens in the town where he iives even down to the looting of a chicken roost that every one doesn’t know all about. “Now, as a matter of fact, he gets the Chicago papers at his home every morn- ing earlier than I do, and he actually knows what is going on in Chicago before I do. Besides, he reads the papers much more thoroughly than a city man ordin- arily does, especially the details of casu- alities occurring in Chicago. “A countryman hasn't the slightest idea how narrow the average city man’s life is. My friend often says: ‘I envy you your opportunities for seeing new things. You are in the midst of the drama of life where things are always happening. You can go to theaters, lectures, parks, museums and a hundred other places of amusement that a country man cannot enjoy.’ “Of course, I have the opportunities of doing all those things, but how often do I improve them? You know I live down in 50th street. Each morning as soon as I have breakfasted I walk a block to the Cottage Grove avenue cars and ride down- town. Like every one else I read my pa- per nearly all the way and don’t see an thing else. When I get to Madison street I jump off and walk four blocks to the office. There isn’t much excitement in that, Is there? I sit here at my desk until noon and then go down and spend fifteen min- utes in the restaurant and come back up the elevator without once having been out of doors. At 5 o’clock I go back along Madison street to the cable cars, read the paper all the way home and then play with the baby in the evening. “And that is the day’s program most of Of course I could go to theaters and lectures, and my wife and I are al- ways talking about it, but in reality we go very rarely. We may be ‘in the midst of the drama of life,” but we don’t see much of it. It is a pretty thing to think about, though, especially for the man who doesn’t live in the dirt and dust, foul odors and jangling noises of the city. ————+e+___ Story of a Salad. From the Buffalo Enquirer. A certain Buffalo young woman who just- ly prides herself on her knack at making salads and other dainty dishes, recently decided to invite a few friends for an even- ing at cards. She concluded that lobster salad would be the best thing for a light luncheon, and accordingly, with her usual care, picked over the lobster, mixed the mayonnaise dressing and put the dish away. When the hour for serving the re- freshments came around, the guests sat in pleasant anticipation as the salad appeared. As it was brought in the hostess thought she detected a peculiar odor, but ascribed it to some new perfume the servant had used. One guest took a taste of the salad, gave a start, and put down his fork. A young woman who took a good mouthful coughed and made a wry face. The hostess then confidently partook of her own product, “Gracious goodness!” she exclaimed, has- tily, putting her napkin to her lips, ‘don’t eat any more of that salad. Walt a min- ute,” and she hastily left the room, return- ing In a few minutes with an agonized ex- pression on her face. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “but next to the olive ofl bottle stood one containing clear cod liver oil, and that is not very good in mayonnaise dressing.” SS And She Went. From Judge. The new woman (at the theater)—Well, I'm glad that act is over. Her husband—“Didn’t you enjoy it?” The new woman—‘“Yes, but I've been dy- ing for the last fifteen minutes to go out and see a woman. —— +00 Makes Both Ends Meat. From the Detroit Tribune. “I don’t know of another beast,” observed the hog, “who Is able to make both ends meat.” He was obliged, however, to explain that he meant headcheese and pickled pigs’ feet before the full flavor of his bon mot was appreciated. THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 22, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. GOVERNMENT CLERKS The Conditions Surrounding the Pub- lic Service in Foreign Countries, THE EXAMINATION SYSTEM GENERAL Salaries Paid, the Hours of Labor and the Pensions Allowed. INTERESTING COMPARISONS Written for The Evening Star. OME TIME AGO AT Se suggestion of Representative D. B. Henderson of fowa the civil service commission request- ed the State Depart- ment to obtain through our consuls reports of the rules governing the civil service in other countries. Some of these reports were made public a year ago. The compilation of all of them has been completed very recently, and the mat- ter is now in the hands of the public printer. It will form a feature of the an- nual report of the civil service commission for 1894, which will be published in a short time. Two or three interesting summaries have heen made by the secretary of the commission, Mr. Doyle, from the mass of facts accumulated. In the first place, these reperts show that in all of the principal countries of the world now an entrance examination, both mental and physical, is required before ap- pointment to the civil service. The tenure of office is permanent. or during good be- havior, and in every great country except the United States, a..er the employe has become incapacitated by reason of age, length of service or physical infirmity, he is retired with a pension which varies,with the length of his service, from one-sixth to four-tifths of the salary he drew on re- tirement. In some countries the employe may ask fer retirement after fifteen years’ ice, and in others he must serve thirty five years before he is entitled te retirement. The salaries paid in other countries to clerks and other subordinates are lower ¢ paid by the United States; but of higher officials—such as us and chiefs of divisions— higher abread. The hours of labor vary. In the more northern, as well as in the tropical and semi-tropical countries, the hours of labor are short. In nearly all countries <includ- ing the United States) the postal employes have longer hours than those of any other branch of the public service. The time allowed for luncheon, the vaca- ime and the time aliowed for kK es great is less liberal than many other countries in the matter of sick leave. In the oriental countries there is an un- usually large number of holidays. Christ- mas and New Year are observed in most European countrie In the oriental countries the holidays are usually religious festivals; in some untries national holi- days are observed. In some countries women are not em- ployed at all in the public service, while as a rule their employment in other coun- tries Is Imited to the work of teachers, telegraph operators and postal employes. Hours of Labors. The government emplcye in the United States (that is, the department employe,) works from 9 to 4 o’clock—seven hours— and bas thirty minutes of that time for luncheon. In the republic of Switzerland the clerk works ten hours, according to his schedule; but he takes two hours of that time for luncheon. The works five hours and takes rest. The Bavarian clerk works nine to elever hours and takes two or three hours for rest. The Austrian clerk works nine hours. and if he is in the lower grades of the service he is compelled to bring his luncheon with him and it in his ofice; the higher clerks have an hour for rest. In France there are nine office hours, but 2 two of thes2 are for the United States, seven, and there minutes for ; but office England usuall n at 1) end at 5. to six in the L in Sweden, fiv via, and China. In Italy six to seven office hours, but t ese are given to rest. Russia has hours, with indefinite time for luncheon, with the clerica’ » of other countries, the government at Washington are neither over nor under-worked. But the difference between the govern ment clerk and the worker in commercial life is shown by the statement of the consul at Dublin, that while in gov- ernment offices the hours are from to to 5 o'clock, “tradesmen and peratives work in summer time from 6 with an ‘allow e of an and another hour for dinner; in winter from 7 a.m. to p-m., with an allowance of an hour for dinner only.” The salaries in the government service in 3 In this city r. se from $H" to $1 Great Britain they range from $ 500, in Persia from §St to $4,000, in Holland from $1 to $ 8H ward, in Austria gium’ from § of the reports stated, acco it ts presents. e are peculiar the granting of s in many countries. In Australia, for example, there is an annual increase to each’ employe. In the United States there 1s no increase except by promotion, and that is op- tional with the head of the rt- ment. In Bavaria there is an ase every four or five years until the twentieth vear of service. In Austria the salary is increased every five years. In Austria, Ba- varia, Belgium, Italy and Persia appoint- ments are for life. In Colombia appoint- ments are limited to from one to six years. In Canada, Australia, Egypt and Saxony appointments are for life after probation. The Number of Holidays. The government clerk here has seven holidays during the year. (In addition there is a holiday when a cabinet officer dies and sometimes when ex-cabinet officers or ex-Presidents die.) The government clerk in Persia has a pleasant time. He has fifty-seven recognized holidays in the year and the government offices are closed on Mondays and Fridays. In British India there are twenty to forty holidays. In Bolivia there are forty-three. In Great Britain there are seven full holidays, but each alternate Saturday is a half holiday. Some people who would like to see the departments here run on business princi- ples have thought that thirty days’ vaca- tion with full pay and thirty days’ sick leave with full pay in each year was an excessive allowance. It does not seem to be excessive, in the light of ‘what other governments do. In Great Britain the gov- ernment clerk has fourteen to forty-eight days’ vacation, according to the length of his employment in, the public service, but he may have six months’ sick leave with full pay and six months’ sick leave with half pay. In other words, if he is sick for a year he draws three-quarters of his pay during that period and does not lose his place. In France the vacation is fifteen to thirty days; the sick leave, three months with full pay and three months witn half pay. In Austria the vacation time is six weeks; the amount of sick leave with full pay, one year. In Holland the annual leave is two to four weeks; the sick leave {s not Nmited. In Japan the annual leave is thirty-six days; the sick leave, ninety days on full pay, forty-five days on half pay. In Prussia the annual leave is one to four weeks, according to the grade of the employes the sick leave js two years. In Russfa thé annual leave is one month; the sick leave is “cumulativé—one month for each year of grvice The government clerk this city re- caves no consideration from the govern- ment when he is superannuated—except as old clerks are continued in service in some cases, doing little or no work. In almost every other country: pensions are paid to clerks for disabilities arising from length of service or infirmity.” Bolivia, Haiti, Co- lombia, Venezuela and Victoria are the only countries which'stand with the United States in refiising to pension civil employes. China gives.clerks ofe year’s pay for seven years’ service as a pension. In Russia and in the Danish West Indies pension rights extend to widows and minor children of government clerks, "| Examinations Required. Most of the nations of the world require entrance examinations of civil clerks, as does the United States, and most of them require also physical examinations. Rus- sia requires an academic certificate from those applying for appointments. In Tur- key applicants must bé graduates of the Turkish political school. In Sweden a col- legiate or legal education is required. In Cuba an academic certificate is required. In Persia penmanship and letter writing are the only qualifications necessary. There is no entrancé examination in Manila, Morocco, Haiti, Colombia, Bolivia or Ven- ezuela. Wsmen in the public service here have reason to be pretty well satisfied with their lot. There are no limitations on the em- ployment of women in the public service in this country, except as the head of a department may discriminate against them by asking the civil service commission to send him the names of mn. The law re- gards men and women as equal. In almost every other country, if they are employed at all, thcir employment is limited to. cer- tain classes of work. In Great Britain, for example, the employment of women limited to the postal service. In Ecuad\ Esypt, Haiti, Hawaii, Manila, Persia, China, British India. Bavaria, Bolivia and Turkey women are not employed in the civil service. In no other country are they so blessed as in this: In Regard to Pensions. In England persons appointed directly by the crown or admitted on civil service com- mission's certificate are pensicnable after ten years of service, the pension being one- sixth of the previous salary and emolu- ments. For each additional year of service one-sixtieth is added to this pension. But the commissioners of the treasury may fix a less num- her cf years as persionable in peculiar ceses. An employe retired for Injury in the line of duty receives, if he has served less than ten years, a gratuity not exceed- ing three months’ pay for every two years’ service, or a superannuation allowance not exceeding on»-sixth of original salary. An employe who leaves the service because of disability may receive, in the discretion of the commissivners, a gratuity not to ex- ceed one month's pay for each year's ser- vice. An employe who loses his place through abolition of the office may receive an cnnual allowance, within the discretion of the commissioners of the treasury. This allowance is not to exceed two-thirds of the salary formerly drawn. A pensioner may engage in any cther occupation; but if he does any other work for the govern- ment his total remuneration from the pub- lic fund must not exceed the salary he re- ceived at thc time he was pensioned. In Germany the pension of an emplo: begins at the age of sixty-tive. It be; at and cne-sixtieth each year up of actual salary. In Prussia a person may engage in other service without forfeiting his pension. In Saxony he forfeits his pension if he ac- cepts other remuneration. In Bavaria clerks can retire only at seventy years of e to n France an employe of the civil service ay retire usually at sixty or after thirty of service. A pensioner may engage te business without forfeiting his pension. In Switzerland officials are elected for a three years’ term of service. The civil pen: Clerks and employes usual- ly remain in service only for the term of the chiefs employing them—three or at the most six years. In Holland there is no fixed term of of- fice. Pensions are granted to employes sixty-five years old or who have become are no disabled after ten years of service. _ In Sweden the compensation of employes is divid d into “salary” and “active service A clerk draws both while in cause, employes are by legisiative body, the storthing, acting on individual cases usually on a_royal proposition. ate deducts 2 per ceat of pension fund. pensions disabled clerks and those y years. ypt a deduction of 5 per cent of of those on the permanent list provides a pension for the clerk who has dd twenty-five years and is fifty-five years old, or the clerk who has reached ixty-five. AN clerks who are disabled in service are pensioned and so are those whose offices are abolished. segs COLORED MAN. A PLUCKY ative Tarsney Tells a Story e Days in Missouri. used to happen in the old slave days in Missouri,” said Represen- tatitve John Tarsney to a Star writer just before he started for Europe. “The condi- tion of the slave was never a very burden- some one in Missouri. The farm countty and the nearness of the Iowa line prevent- ed anything like those plantation cruelties of which we sometimes read. In fact, I should judge that some of the Missouri slaves had as good a time as their mas- ters. “In illustration I might tell a queer story, which had its scene in Independence, Mis souri. Ol anker Sawyer of Indepen- dence carried on the same Sawyer Bank which exists today away back in the tf- ties, when Independe as the eastern end of the Sanie Fe trail, was the great outfitting point for those daring and mis- guided people who meditated a flight acre in the plains. Among other chattels of Banker Saw r was a big black negro named Dus Dustun was a Breat me- and had vast fame all over the a the maker of that avon Known as ‘the prairie Sawyer had besides his bank on shop at Independence. And_ his negro, Dustun, ran the wagon shop. The wagon shop did a good trade, and Sawyer d to Dustun one day: ‘You make a lot of money working overtime, Dustun. Why don’t you buy and elf? Why do you continue in You've got five or six hundred 's down in my bank now.’ “And it was true. Dustun had laid up quite a little store cf money, and the fact of a slave with money on deposit in the bank of his master is of itself illustrative of the lax condition of the institution in ouri. ‘What'll you take for me?’ asked Dus- un. “Seeing it's you,’ said Sawyer, ‘I'll sell out cheap. If you want to buy’ yourself I'll take $1,500, while you're easy worth $3,000." “Dustun bought himself, pafd $500 down, and took the rest of himself on credit. Sawyer made out his freedom papers, and Dustun made a mortgage on himself to Sawyer for the $1,000. Then he went to work. In a year he had paid himself free. In two years more he bought his wife and little girl. Then he began to make money. But he hadn’t proceeded far nor laid up much ahead when one night a fire started, and the next morning found Dustun’s wagon shop in ashes. Shop, tools, stock and everything was burned up as clean as a whistle, and with the forethought of his race Dustun had no insurance. “It was a plain, hard, bitter case of be- gin again with Dustun. He thought the situation over, and then went to his old master, Sawyer. After ten minutes’ talk Sawyer lent Dustun $1,000, took a mért- gage on his wife and young one. Dustun rebuilt his shop and opened up anew. He kept hi@ old trade and added to it. It finally became very unfashionable to start across the plains in anything but one of Dustun’s prairie schooners. aba year Dustun again had a clear title to wifo and family. “Life went easy after that with the old black wagon maker. He died eas ten years ago at Independence ‘worth fairly $50,000. The daughter whom he bought from Sawyer and then mortgaged and cleared the title to again was for a lon; time, and is, I bellevé, now, a teacher ii the colored public schools at Kansas City. Old Dustun’s memory in Independence to this day highly respected.” GENERAL DEBILITY FROM OVER- woRK Use Horsford’s Acid Phosphate. . I. A. Scruggs, Raleigh, N. O., says: “It bab been well tested in nervous prostration, atonie Gyspepsia and general debility trom overwork.’ “JACKS UP, ON EIGHTS.” BY ALFRED HENRY LEWIS. Written for The Evening Star “It was a hot day in June,” said the old cattleman, as he thought filly read the maker's name in his sombrero, “‘an’ while not possessin’ one of these yere heat- gauges to say ackerate, I'm allowin’ it was ridin’ hard on jest sech weather as this. The Tucson mail was in, an’ a band of us was at the post office a-makin’ of demands for letters, when in comes Cherokee Hall Icokin’ some moody an’ sets himself down on a shoe box. “Which you no doubt thinks as how you'll take some missives yourse’f this mornin’,’ says Dock Peets, a noticin’ of his glcom, an’ aimin’ to p’int his idees up some other trail. ‘Pass over them documents for Cheiokee Hall, an’ don’t try for to hold out nuthin’ onto us, for we're "way too peevish to stand any offishul gaities today.’ “There ain't no one weak minded enuff to write to me none,’ says Cherokee, ‘which I remarks this yere phenomenon with pleasure. Mail bags packs more grief than joy, an’ I ain’t honin’ for no hand in the game whatever. It’s fifteen years since I buys a stamp cr gets a letter, an’ all thirst therefor is assuaged complete.” “Fifteen years is shore a long time,’ says Enright, an’ then we all hops into our letters again. Finally Cherokee breaks in once more. “TI ain't aimin’ to invest Wolfville in no superstitious fears,’ says Cherokee, ‘but I jest chronicies as a current event how T was sittin’ into a little poker last night and three times straight I picks up ‘the hand the dead man held’—jacks up, on eights, an’ it win every time.’ “*Who all lose it?’ asks Dan Boggs, some breathless. “ ‘Why!’ says Cherokee, ‘it’s every time that old longhorn as comes in from Tuc- son back some two weeks ago.’ “ Yes,’ says Boggs, a gettin’ mighty de- cided, ‘an’ you can bet your saddle an’ throw the pony in, death is fixin’ its sights for him right now. It’s shorely a-warnin’ an’ I'm glad a whole lot it ain’t none of the boys, that’s all.’ “You see, this yere stranger who Chero- kee alludes at, comes over froin Tucson a little while before this. He has long white ha’r an’ beard, an’ jedgin’ from, the rings on his horns he was maybe a-comin’ sixty. He seemed like he had plénty of money, an’ we takes it he's all right. His leavin’ Tucson showed he had sense, so we cashes him at his figger. Of course we all never asks hts name none, as askin’ names an’ lookin’ at the brands on a hoss is speshul roode in the west, an’ shows your bringin’ up, an’ frequent your bringin’ down; but he allows he’s called ‘Old Bill Gentry’ to the boys, an’ he an’ Faro Nell are particler friendly. “ Talkin’ to him,’ says Nell, ‘is jest like a layin’ in the shade. He knows every- thing, too; all about books an’ things all over the world. He was a-tellin’ me, too, as how he had a daughter like me that died ‘way back some’ers about when I was a yearlin’. He feels a heap bad about it yet, an’ I gets so sorry for bim, so old an’ white ha’rd.’ ‘An’ you may gamble,’ says Boggs, ‘if 1 likes him, he’s all right.’ “ ‘If Nell likes him that makes him all right,’ says Cherokee. "2 “We was still talkin’ an’ readin’ over our mail in the post office, when all at once we hears Jack Moore outside. What's this yere literature as affronts my eyes pasted onto the outside of Uncle Sam's wickeyup?’ says Moore mighty truc- ulent. We all goes out an’ there shore enuf is a notice offerin’ $1,500 reward for some sharp, who's been a-standin’ up the stage over on the Lordsburg trail. “ ‘Whoever tacks this up, I wonder,’ says Enright, ‘it never was here ten minutes ago.’ “ ‘Well, jest you all hover round an’ watch the glory of its comin’ down,’ says Moore, a-cuttin’ of it loose with his bowie an’ tearin’ it up. ‘I herewith furnishes the information cold, this yere camp of Woif- ville knows its business an’ don’t have to be notified of nuthin.’ This yere outfit has a vigilance committee all reg‘lar an’ which I'm kettle-tender therefor, an’ when it comes nacheral to announce some notice to the public, you all will perceive me a pervadin’ of the scenery on a hoss an’ promulgatin’ of said notice viver vece. Am I right, Enright?’ “Ali right as preachin’ Jack,’ says En- right. ‘You speaks trooth like a runnin’ brook.’ ““But whoever sticks up that notice is the information I pants for,’ says Boggs, kin’ up an’ readin’ of the piece. reckon I posts that notice some my- se’f,’ said a big squar man we don’t know, who comes in that mornin’ on the stage, an’ who was jest then a santerin’ about the suburbs of the crowd a listenin’ to the talk. ‘Well, don’t do it no more, pardner,’ says Moore, mighty grave, ‘We're no doubt ‘way wrong, but we have our own pecooliar notions about what looks good; so after now don’t alter the landscape none ’round : til you first gets our views.’ ‘I'm offerin’ even money, postin’ no- tices wouldn't hurt this yere camp a little bit,’ says the stranger. “Well, comin’ right to cases,’ says En- right, ‘it’ don't hurt us none, but it grates on us a whole lot. The idee of a mere stranger a-strollin’ in an’ a-tackin’ up of notices, like he was a-standin’ a pat hand on what he knows an’ we not in it, is a heap onpleasant. So don’t do it no more.” ““Well, I don’t aim to do it no more,’ says the man, ‘but I still clings to my idee that notices atn’t no setback to this camp.’ “Which the same bein’ a mere theery,’ says Doe Pects, ‘personal to yourse’f, I holds it would be onpolite to discuss it,’ so lets all wheel under cover fur a drink.’ “So we all lines up on the Early-Bird bar an’ the drinks ends the talk, as they ailers ought to. “Along onto night we gets some cooler, an’ by second drink time in the evenin’ every one was movin’ about, an’ as it hap- pens, quite a band was in the Red Light; some a drinkin’ changin’ of views, an* some a buckin’ the various games which was goin’ wide open all round. Cher- okee was a sittin’ behind his box an’ Faro Nell, who lotted a heap more on Cherokee than on any of us—seemed like, from a little girl, she’d give a pony for a smile from Cherokee—was sittin’ up at his shoul- der on the lookout stoel. The game was goin’ plenty lively when along comes old Gentry. Cherokee*takes a look at him an’ seems worried a little, thinkin’, no doubt, of them ‘hands the dead man held,’ but goes on dealin’ without a word. ““Where you done been all day?’ says ell to the old man. ‘I ain\t seen you none whatever since yesterday.’ "" “Why, I gets tired an’ done up a lot, settin’ agin’ Cherokee last night,’ says the old man, an’ so I jest prowls down in my blankets an’ sleeps some ‘til about an hour ago.” “So the old man buys a stack of blues an’ sets them all on the ten. It was jest then in comes the big man who was postin’ of the notice former, an’ points a six-shooter at Gentry an’ says: “Put your hands up—put them up qutck or I'll drill you. Old as you be, I don’t take no chances.’ “At the first word Nell comes down off her stool like a small landslide, while Cherokee brings a gun to the front in a flash. The old man was right up with the procession, too, an’ stood th’ar his gun in his hand, his eyes a glitterin’ an’ his white beard a curlin’ like a cat’s. He was clean strain, he was. “ ‘Let us get word in, gents,’ says Cher- okee, plenty ca’m, ‘an’ don’t no one set in his stack unless he’s got a hand. I does business yere my way, an’ I'm shorely due to down the first man who shoots across any layout of mine. Don’t make no mis- take or the next census’ll count one be- hind, shore.” “ ‘What you all aimin’ to celebrate, any- how?’ says Jack Moore, gettin’ the big man’s gun while Boggs gets Gentry’s. ‘Who's Wolfville entertainin’ yere, I'd like to know? “I'm a Wells-Fargo detective,’ says the big man, ‘and this yere,’ a pointin’ to old Gentry, ‘is Jim Yates, the biggest hold-up an’ stage robber between here an’ ’Frisco. That old tarrapin’ll stop a stage like a young one would a clock, jest to see what's into fe He’s the man I was pastin’ up rotice for this mornin’, “ ‘He's a liar,’ says the old man, a-gettin’ ugliler every minute. ‘Give us our six; shcoters an’ turn us loose, an’ if I don’t lance the roof of his lyin’ mouth with the front sight of my gun, I'll cash in for a hoss thief or anything else you say.’ “ ‘What do you say,Enright?’ says Moore, ‘let’s give ‘em their gatlin’s an’ let them lope, I've got money as says the Wells- Fargo bill paster can’t take this yere old Cimmaron @ little bit.’ “Which I trails in,’ says Boggs, ‘with a few chips on the same card.’ “‘No,’ says Enright, ‘if this yere old man’s a rustlin’ the mails, we can’t know it too quick. Wolfville is a straight camp an’ don’t back no criminal plays; none whatever.’ “So Enright calls a meetin’ of the strang- lers, of which he was head, an’ we all goes over to the New York store to talk it over. Before we done powwows two minutes up comes old Monte, the stage driver, all dust an’ cuss words, an’ allows he’s been stood up out by the Cow springs six hours be- fore, an’ is out the mail bag an’ the Adams company’s box. We all looked at old man Gentry, an’ he shorely seemed to cripple down a whole lot. ““Gentry,’ says Peets after a minute, walkin’ over to him, ‘I hears you tell Nell you was sleepin’ all day. Jest take this yere committee to your budwer an’ let’s see how it looks some.’ “The turn’s agin’ me,’ sald the old man, ‘an’ I lose. I'll cut it short for you all an’ tell you right off the reel; I held up the Stage this afternoon myse’f.’ ““This yere’s straight goods, I takes it,’ says Enright, ‘an’ our dooty’s plain. Go over to the corral an’ get a lariat, Moore.’ “Don't let Enright hang the old man, Cherokee,’ says Nell, beginwin’ to cry. *Piease don’t let ’em hang him.’ “This holdin’ a gun on your friends ain’t no picni says Cherokee, flushin’ up an’ then turnin’ paler than ever, ‘but your word goes with me, Nell. Now, this yere is the way we does. I'll make them a talk an’ yqu run over to the corral an’ bring the best hoss you see saddled. I'll still be talkin’ when you comes back, an’ you creep up an’ whisper to the old man to make a jump for the pony while I cover the deal with my six-shooter. If they gets him, they’ll get him in the smoke. It’s playin’ it low on Enright an’ Peets an’ the rest, but I'll do it for you, Nell.’ “So Cherokee says to the girl ‘good-bye,” an’ squares himself for what he knows will be-a desperate play an’ from which it's goin’ to be some unusual if he comes out alive. Then he begins to talk an’ Nell makes a quiet little break for the corral. But no hoss was ever needed, for Cherokee didn’t talk a minute when all at once the old man tips off his chair in a ’pleptic fit. A 'pleptic fit is very permiscus an’ tryin’, an’ when he comes to himself he was camped just this side of the dead line an’ could only whtsper. ‘Come yere,’ says he, a-motionin’ to Cherokee; ‘there’s a stack of blues where I sets it on the ten open, which you ain't turned for yet. Take everything I got an’ put it with it. If it lose, it’s yours, of course; if it win, give it to the little girl.’ “This was all he says an’ he dies the very next second on the list. There was over $2,600 in his warbags, an’ we all possesses ourse’fs of it mighty prompt an’ goes over to the Red Light an’ puts it on the ten along of the stack of blues. Cherokee goes on with the deal, an’ I’m blessed if the ten wasn’t loser an’ Cherokee gets it all. “But I won't win agin’ a dead man,’ says Cherokee, an’ gives it to Nell, who wasn’t so superstitious. ‘ “Do you mind,’ says Boggs, as we all takes a drink after, ‘as how I prophesied this yere the minute I hears Cherokee a- tellin’ about his “jacks up on eights’—the hand the dead man held?” ——— A COLORADO ROMANCE. Why the River at Trinidad Bears Three Names. “Some queer kinks in nomenclature are discoverable in this country of ours,” said Col. William Stapleton of Trinidad, Col., to a Star writer. “Running right through the town of Trinidad, in which I live, is a little river, which familiarly and indis- criminately does its muddy, flowing busi- ness under three names. It is called, variously, the Las Animas, the Purgatorio and the Picket Wire. The names: came about in this way: “Sante Fe, N.M., claims to be and is about the same age as St. Augustine, Fla. Both towns are considerably cver 300 years old, although I forget the exact date of their settlement. Back in the middle of the sixteenth cen- tury the Spaniards at Santa Fe made up a military detachment to go overland to St. Augustine. The old Dons didn’t know any- thing of the country which lay between. All they were posted on was the distance and the general direction, as they knew the latitude ani longitude of both places. Rather late in the fall some 700 of them, steel-clad soldiers, camp followers, bag- gage train and women, rushed in through the Raton Pass over the trail now follow- ed by the Sante Fe railroad, and at the beginning of winter made a camp at what is now the site of Trinidad, which sits fairly in the mouth of the Raton canon, looking out on the plains. “There they were on the very threshold of the Rockies. To the east of them, over which their course must trend, lay an utter waste of plains, apparently without limit. All that winter the Spaniards camp- ed in the mouth of the Raton canon. With wine, woman and song, they put in a hilarious time, and probably had as much fun as they ever had before or since. Winters are not rigorous and spring comes early in the vicinity of Trinidad. “With the first coming of the early grass the adventurers burnished their armor, fitted up their horses and got ready to move. The camp followers, the women and the extra baggage they sent back to Santa Fe. When last seen the party bound for St. Augustine, numbering several hun- dreds, were marching down the valley of the little river by which they had camped. “That was the last ever heard of them. Not a feather ever floated back to tell the story of their fate. With the last flap of the last banner, and the latest sun-glint on the rearmost steel cap, they disappeared from the earth. To this day no one ts able to make a suggestion even as to what be- came of them, except that it Is supposed they were butchered by the Indians. “Fifty years ago there was an old Co- manche chief named Iron Shirt, because of a rusty old shirt of chain mall which he wore, but neither he nor any of the other Comenches knew anything of the origin of the garment nor where it came from. It had been in the tribe further back than the short Comanche memory could reach. Many have supposed that it was a relic of Spanish expedition of three centuries ich had apparently marched off the that far-away spring day in the earth mouth of the Raton canon, “But now for the kink in nomenclature I as thinking of. The disappearance of these Spanish soldiers seemed so eerie and witehlike that {t made a profound impres- sion on the superstitious people they had left behind. They named the little river Rio de Las Animas, meaning the River of the Lost Souls, and it is supposed to hold the story of the expedition’s dark fate and repeat it to itself in the ‘river language, which the Mexicans do not pretend to understand, “When the French fur traders under Sublette and Saint Vrain came trapping in those waters from St. Louis, in a French effort at translation they made out that the ‘River of the Lost Souls’ must mean the Purgatory River, and so gave the river its translated name of Purgatorio. “Later, when the American bullwhacker marched through on his way to Sania Fe, he accepted the French name, but called it Picket Wire. To this day the river wears all three titles, as the reader would soon learn by turning to the Trinidad newspa- pers, where he would find cattle brands ad- vertised as having their ranges variously on the Las Animas, the Purgatorio and the Picket Wire. “Every man picks out his name for him- self, but they all mean the same river. It isn’t much of a river, either, only about twenty feet wide at Trinidad. The Mex- icans, however, loyally stick to the name ‘Rio de Las Animas,’ and Mexican mothers tell their children of the soldiers who hun- dreds of years ago marched from there and were never heard of again. ——— Pity is Achin’ to Love. From the New York Herald. A girl bachelor of some forty-three win- ters stood talking earnestly to a lady friend the other day. A bright little maid- en, evidently belonging to the latter, seem- ed deeply interested. The woman was : ccunting with vigor the sins and short- ccmings of a numerous acquaintance, hold- ing’ up first one and then another to the light of her glaring judgment. She had nearly exhausted the list, when her friend asked about a gentleman with whom they were apparently well acquainted. “Well, I pity that man," was the ready reply. “What with his wife dying and a scapegrace of a son and a daughter who is a perfect virago, he is an object of pity, and ke has my heartfelt sympathy.” The tiny listener raised her little hand, and, shaking one finger at the maiden lady, said, earnestly: “You better look out, Miss ——. Mamma says pity is achin’ to love.” +o-—____ The Bookkeeper Not Behind. From Pearson's Weekly. Mr. Asker—‘They tell me that the book- keeper of your firm is behind in his ac- counts; is that so?” Mr. ‘Tasker—“Far from it; he came out ahead. It’s the company that’s behind” MR. SKINNER’S VIEWS The Populist Representative-Elect From North Carolina. SILVERS HOPE WITH PARTY No Confidence in “Either of the Two Old Parties. < ACCESSIONS EXPECTED Representative-elect Harry Skinner of Greenville, N. C., is in the city, stopping at the Metropolitan. Since 1880 the first district of North Carolina has been repre- sented by members of one family, with the exception of the two terms of the Fifty- second and Fifiy-third Congresses, which were filled by ex-Representative Branch. Thomas W. Skinner, a brother of the Rep- resentative-elect, was in the House during three terms since 1880, and Major L. C. Latham, his law partner and brother-in- law, held that office a couple of terms. A Populist Leader. Of the ten populists who will be in the House of Represertatives of the Fifty- fourth Congress Mr. Skinner is generally looked upon as the most notable, and there is little doubt that he will be the leader of his party. The credit of winning the fight in the legislature of North Carolina, by which county officers of that state are elected rather than appointed by the judges who receive their appointments at the hands of the government, is given to Mr. Skinner and Marion Butler, who will represent the populists in the United States Senate. Mr. Skinner is a lawyer, a young man with a robust build and clear com- plexion, clean-shaven face and an altogeth- er energetic make-up. He is called the “father of the farmers’ subtreasury plan,” as when that plan was indorsed by the Farmers’ Alliance at St. Louis the dele- gates to the convention had distributed among them copies of Frank Leslie’s Week- ly, which contained an exposition of the plan in an article contributed by Mr. Skin- ner. No Gonfidence in Either of the Old Parties. “I have no confidence,” said Mr. Skinner to a Star reporter today, “in the the hopes of democrats and republicans who are in favor of free silver that they will be able to nominate a silver man in either of the national conventions. Information received from Cleveland shows that the silver men are greatly in the minority in that conven- tion, and the showing of strength there is an evidence to my mind that the silver men will have no chance at their national convention. They will be no stronger than they are in the convention of the Nagonal League of Republican Clubs. “If this is the case- with the republicans it is so in the democratic party to a great- er degree. The democratic national con- ventions have always held to the rule that nominations could be made only with a two-thirds majority. Even in 1861 that rule was not broken, though the democratic party itself split. It will not be broken at the next convention of the democratic par- ty, and the silver men cannot hope to win by a two-thirds majority. The silver men of the couutry will not trust the carrying out of their principles to a gold man, even if they should be able to have silver in- dorsed in the national platform. The Chance for the Populists. “It is in this view of the situation that I see the great chance fcr the populists. Af- ter the two natiorial conventions have met and have nominated so-called ‘sound mon- ay’ men to head the tickets, the silver peo- ple of both parties will look about to see how they can vote for the white metal. They will find but one party that will be pledged to the free and unlimited coinage of silver at 16 to 1 independently of any other nation, and that party will be the populist. “I believe the country will be greatly sur- prised when the populist party meets in convention and adopts a platform. It has become general in some parts of the coun- try to regard the populists as indorsing a lot of wild, impracticable theories, which would throw the nation into a state of chaos if they were ever to be put into ef- fect. In my opinion there are but three is- sues that should be treated in the platform of the populists. They are for free and un- limited coinage of silver at 16 to 1 without waiting for any internetioral agreement, an amendment to the Constitution permit- ting the taxation of incomes by the federal gcvernment and a law forbidding the issu- ance of government bonds except by the permission of Congress. The financial question is the only one now before the country, and these three plarks for a plat- form would cover that question. Histcry of the Reform Movements. “There is nothing strange in the fact that the uprising of the populists should be ac- companied by all sorts of propositions to correct legislative abuses, some of which are visionary and impracticable. That is the history of all reform movements. State- ments of individuals should not be taken as representing the views of the populist party, any more than they should be ac- cepted as representing the views of any other party. Parties are judged by their national platforms, and it is only fair that the populists. should be accorded the right of being so judged. “The reason I think that silver demo- crats and silver republicans will come into the populist party after the conventions have done their work is that I cannot see where else they can go. They need not talk of forming a new party. What will be the use of that when the populists are fighting for just what they want. and will be willing to subordinate every other ques- tion to the financial issue? The populists have 1.800 papers throughout the country, and they are organized in every county In the United States. They have already shown their strength by polling two million votes. Mr. Stevenson’s Lost Opportunity. “I think Vice President Stevenson has lost the opportunity of his life. When the Illinois free silver convention was first talked of it was thought that Mr. Stevenson was behind it. It has since been shown that he rather opposed the work of that convention. When he was looked upon as the advocate of free silver he was the most talked of choice for the democratic nomina- tion in the party in North Carolina. He was one of thirteen men who in 1879 in the House of Representatives voted for Hen- drick B, Wright for Speaker on the green- back issue against Samuel J. Randall. Once having been a greenbacker, it was be- lieved that he would favor the free coinage of silver, but he has failed to inform the country where he stands on that question. Had he headed the Illinois movement for free silver he would have gained the sup- port of the democrats of the south. “Only time can determine who our can- didate for the populist nomination for the presidency will be. He must be a free sil- ver man above all else, but time will tell —_——-e The Watering Troughs. ‘ To the Editor of The Brening Star: A complaint appeared in the paper about a week ago regarding the muddy, dirty condition of the watering troughs, and ended by saying that compelling horses to drink out of these was “cruelty to ani- mals with a vengeance.” As this is a refiection on the Humane Society the public should be informed that the Humane Society gives these watering troughs, but as the city puts them in place it is supposed to keep them in order. Witn- out this work of the Humane Society there would probably not be a place for a thirsty horse to get a drink, for it has furnished t» the city nearly every watering trough to be seen, and if by chance one was found not to be as clean as it should be it is the fault of the city government, whose duty it is to keep them in order, and not that of the Humane Society. 8. P.C. A —>—_— The Best Recommendation. From the Richmond (Va.) State. Vokes—‘We have at last secured a cook who will stay with us.” Carson—‘‘Nonsense!” Vokes—“Not at all; I took her on the rec- ommendation of the policeman on the beat.” ’