Evening Star Newspaper, June 29, 1895, Page 15

ALLEE DES ACACIA Scenes Along the Fashionable Drive in the Paris Park. STYLISH EQUIPAGES AND WOMEN The Passion for the Noise and Glitter of a Crowd. THAT OF THE CAFE ‘Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, June 20, 1895. T IS 6 O'CLOCK IN Le: afternoon of a June day, along the Alley of Acacias. In a dust of gold there files interminably, slowly, in two, three and even four ranks, the equipages of Par- is brilliant. There are brusque stops and Starts; there is a continual murmur, mixed with laughter. It is a moving flower bed of fair faces under parasols of strange and piquant shades, The carriages are open to the alr; the horses rattle silver chains; the coachmen sit erect in black and gold; and all the splendid trees are dropping locust blossoms; Jocust blossoms, sickly sweet, they typify the sweetness which they fall upon. It is an unreal sight, as different from usual living as the artificial flowers on Paris hats are fairer and more perfect than their fair originals. It is an atmosphere of violet powder; and the sunlight shooting through the branches strikes approvingly on car- mined lips and black lead-penciled eyes, A Family Landau Patriarchal. ‘and brightens to a blinding cloud of gold the glory of the artificial blonde. The Paris Park has many avenues. This ‘Avenue de Longchamps, called the Allee des Acacias, is held sacred to the prome- nade of wealth and beauty. Along the foot-paths there are those who waik and those who only sit. Young men, cravatted subtilely,with boutonnieres of one flower each. It matters little what the flower, but of its kind it ought to be unique. Indeed, to have a special flower ts almost as important as to have a personal and in- dividual crease to one’s pantaloons. They say the avenue is tres Acacias, or very locust-blossomy cn afternoons when there are many pretty wom A pretty ‘woman means a woman chicly gowned and riding gloriously in a chic turnout. Always sad to see, there is a sprinkling of pretty women dressed in last spring’s fashions; Eut they do not count; they are provincials, tourists, foreigners. The mere commonplace and ugly typifies itself in the dingy Paris cab,dragged by its feeble and discouraged steed; and when two men, and sometimes three, with big cigars, three men in dusty hats and wrinkled tweeds, loll in their fu- neral barouche, stale from the livery stable, by the Grand Hotel, free-born Americans upon their travels, the decoration of the Alley is not added to thereby. Or would you rather see the honest Brit- ish family, in their funny clothes, stiff, straight, erect, with white, protruding up- per teeth, intent upon their Baedeckers; or, better still, the open-mouthed and_spec- tacled old lady from the wilds of Illinois, accompanied by John and Mamie? For all of these there is a safe rule to be followed in the Allee des Acacias. It is to drop the Paris cab exactly at the entrance. Then go a-foot, take an hygienic promenade, So one is equal, if correctly dressed, to all the oth- ers. The defile of carriages is endless. Thou- sands of wheels make on the macadam a continuous roll like the surf on the beach. There has just passed a closed coupe, from cut whose open window peers a pretty face behind a fan. It is a pretty married lady of the upper bourgeoisie, who rides alone. In Paris there are ten thousand pretty ladies of the same type, most of ‘whom must ride alone because their hus- Her Carriage a Hired One. ‘bands are too occupied to ride with them. Americans are not the only ones who ride without their husbands, although, perhaps, they are the only ones who travel in strange lands without their husbands. This pretty lady has her horses and her ser- vants; she desires to see and to be seen. Now it is a family landau, patriarchal, but in good repair, and out of place along the alley. On ordinary days it serves to romenade the children in a different por- ion of the park and rather in the morning than the afternoon, because Pierre, the footman, really must return in time to take his lunch. Today the pretty governess has intrigued to be taken out in the afternoon, has made arrangement with the driver Jean One of Those Splendid Vehicles. take a turn along the Allee des Acacias, put her whole soul in her tuilet * * * 4 sits fluttering. She Is from Vienna, of dreamy-eyed and sentimental Wiener madi'n; she is not a common servant, but institutrice, and has a mission of education; she is a romance reader, and she dreams of A Little Tilbury, the Gig of 1830. being stoien and loved for herself as in the tales of Octave Feuillet. The family would not like to know that she has taken the children for a turn along the Allee des Acacias, because it is a plain and correct family, on whose luncheon table there is every Sunday morning a tremendous game pie or a monumental pate, such a one as may be sliced down for the children through the week. The lady who has just passed in the open carriage is a widow by divorce. She is young, rich, beautiful and has put by all ‘her illusions. It is her serious intention to get pleasure out of life and with as little trouble as is possible. That is the reason her carrige is a hired one, from a stylish stable; she does not wish to have the trou- ble of owning carriages and horses merely for the sake of being robbed, ill served and hourly troubled, she who in other days had the most spiendid teams and the most sumptuous equipages in all Paris. Now there rolls a little Tilbury, the smart gig of the dandy of the year 1830, high on its two wheels, old-fashioned to the point of chicness, and revived again in these last Its driver is a very mannish lad: who finds just room beside her on the nar- row seat for a smail groom, who sits with folded arms. She is of high society and very English, as the French conceive the English mark to be. She is a French “new woman,” very new, a mixture of emanci- pated American engrossed in business af- fairs, English sportswoman groomed and douched. She always comes. to the Allee des Acacias a trifle late, as if just return- ing from her office, like a lawyer; all that she does she must do like a man. Another novelty, whose use spreading, is the English hansom, called “le cab."" It is not public, it is always private; it ts not cheap, it is always expensive; it is not shabby,it is always of the highest elegance. We have almost traversed the long length of the Acacias, and soon may sit at the cascade if there be place, to take an Amer Picon (if we are depraved), or even a goblet of ice water and absinthe. But the mcre conservative ‘e cocktails or a glass of sherry. Who would net pay forty cents to sit beside a duke? The dukes are here, and many a count, marquis and baron. You would not know them from as many other gentlemen correctly dressed. The time has gone by when they wore distinc- tive clothes, gone by as almost is the “gala carriage” of the old nobility; the splendid coaches, gay with gilding, which may still be seen in Rome and Madrid, but which rarely are seen in the Paris Bois today. The gala_voiture of the Faubourg Saint- Germain! It still exists in many an an- efent family, and what a stir it makes along the Paris streets when it is brought out on some rare occasion to strike the modern democratic heart with fear. It is half a century old, but was renovated in 1873, when the Comte de Chambord was to ha made his triumphal entry into his good city of Paris. Nowadays it only serves on great occasions, matrimonial solemnities or princely visits; not more than half-a-dozen trips each season. The nobles sit like ordinary citizens. The ordinary citizens roll past them in ex- tremely ordinary cabs. The Cascade cafe has its chairs and tables in the open air, The English Hansom Called “Le Cab.” and all around it is a mixed society that chats incessantly. Along the Allee there are countless light and handy garden chairs in iron, where pretty mammas sit and watch their pretty daughters, young girls almost well enough along in years to make their debut in so- clety. All sit and stare or ride and stare. The Allee Is like a cathedral arch in brown and green. But the atmosphere is rather that of the cafe than the cathedral. Paul Bour- get deplores the cafe habit, which he gives over grandly to “the lower orders” of his countrymen. It is easy saying; neverthe- less the fact remains that these French people, high or low, can no more live with- out the pieasures which they find in mere gregariousness with nolse and glitter, than the Englishman can live without his home. STERLING HEILIG. — A Much Puzzled Husband. From Pearson's Weekly. There is one marrled man living who was badly frightened the other night. He sent a note to his wife about 9 o'clock to say that he would not be home until late. The messenger boy when he delivered the note to the wife happened to mention that he had gone to the wrong house, and had been very wrathfully treated by a man for dis- turbing him. The wife read the note,which was oa a scrap cf paper. She thought a minute. Then she said to the messenger boy: “I'll give you a shilling if you will take the note back to my husband, and tell him that story without saying that you came here at all.” The boy pocketed the money and went back to the husband with the note. “Well, why do you bring this back?” he asked. “Because they wouldn’t take it. A man came to the door, and told me ff I didn’t g0 away he would break my neck for me.” The husband did not stay out late that evening. On the contrary he got home as fast as the underground train could take him. He looked suspiciously at his wife, and said: “I sent a note, but the boy must have taken it to the wrong house.” “I suppose so," said the wife, innocently, “I haven't got it.” The man was dying to find out if any- body had called, but he was afraid to ask. ee. Just Exchange the Babies. From Tid-Bits. A famous lawyer once had a singular case to settle. A doctor came to him in great distress. Two sisters, living in the same house, had babies of equal age, who so resembled each other that their mothers were unable to distinguish them when they were together, and it happened that by the carelessness of the nurse the children had become mixed. How were the mothers to make sure that they received back their own infants? “But, perhaps,” suggested the lawyer, the children weren't changed at all.” “Oh, but there's no doubt that they were changed,” said the doctor. “Are you sure of it? “Perfectly.” “Well, if that’s so, why don’t you change them back again? I don’t see any difficulty in that case,” THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 29, 1895—TWENTY PAGES. MONEY IN FARMING As (tood Business Chances as in Any OtherCalling. - SECRETARY MORTON'S PLAIN TALK He Speaks of the Abuses of the Homestead Law. ABOUT THE POTATO PLAN ——— (Copyrighted, 1895, by Frank G. Carpenter.) CALLED ON J. \ ae Morton, the Secretary “ of Agriculture, last night and asked him to give me some points for the cities which are turning their vacant lots into potato gardens for the poor. The Secre- tary of Agriculture believes that there is money in farming. He is a man of much wealth, and a great part of his fortune has come out of the soll. He is highly cul- tured and college-bred, but he is as plain in his ways as was Abraham Lincoln, and he has practical ideas of men and things. Like Lincoln, he has a story to {llustrate bis every point, and, like Lincoln, he Is more of an optimist than a pessimist. He thinks that the farmers of the United States have as good business chances as the members of any other profession, and he says that those who mix their manure with brains seldom fail to amass wealth. He has of late been making a study of the ion of the farmer, and of his possi- bilities outside of the old lines of cultiva- J. Sterling Morton. tion, and he is full of new suggestions. He is,a great advocate of small farms, and he tells me there is a good deal of money to be made in potatoes. Said the Secretary: “There is no doubt but that there will be a large demand for all the potatoes that these cities will raise this year and for years to come. We rais2d last year more than 170,000,000 bushels of potatoes in the United States, and these brought about $91,000,000. The crop was, however, not enough by millions of bushels to supply our demand, and potatoes al- ways bring a high price. This is especially so in the cities, and if these people will work there is no doubt but that they can make some money out of their crop. great objec employed is that the land is given to the poor for nothing. It ought to be rented to them at a very low rate, and you would then tind ten men engaged in the culti tion of the soil where one is doing it now. People don’t want what they can get for nothing, and measures like this tend to the education of paupers.”” The Homestead Act. “It is a good deal like the homestead act,” Secretary Morton went on. “That was one of t things for the farmers of this country that has ever happened to them. Jt encouraged pauperism and fraud. Before the homestead act was passed you could pre-empt a quarter section of land, and by paying a small price for it you could get a title to it. The result was that no one took the poor lands, and the man who was a farmer had to be thrifty and intelli- gent to succeed. “The homestead act gave the land ‘or nothing, and many of those who took ad- vantage of It were lazy,ignorant and thrift- les Some settled on lands for the mere purpose of selling them as soon as they had secured their titles. Others proved up their lands, paid the dollar and a quarter an acre which the government demanded, and then mortgaged them to the fullest extent and skipped out. After living on the land for a short time, they could get a title for a quarter section upon the payment of $200. The money lenders were accustomed to loan at least $700 upon a quarter sec- tion, and this gave the mortgagor $500 clear profit. Thousands of acres of land which was utterly worthless were proved up in order to get these mortgages. The owners left as soon as they had obtained the money and the eastern men who furnished the funds had no assets but a lot of sand hills to show for them. They paid the loan agent 2 per cent for making the loan and required no security. The agents worked for their commission and not for their em- ployers, and the result is that there are thousands of mortgages in Kansas and Nebraska today which are not worth the paper on which they are written. I have traveled over much of that mortgaged land. I remember one farm in which a plow stood in the desert near a shackly shanty, and upen it the farmer had hung a card which read: | “Take the Damn Plow Too!” — [ “In another part of the sand hills, where the soil was miserably poor, 1 saw a shanty on wheels. I asked my driver who could possibly live there, and who would be fool enough to take up such land as that. He replied that ali the land we could see had been entered and proved, and that that house was wheeled from place to plac and that one man after another had lived in it for a short time in order to swear that he had had a house on his land. I do not mean to say that many of those who took advantage of the homestead act were not honest men and good farmers, but the principle was bad, and it encouraged pau- perism and fraud. Money in Farming. “You say there is money in farming, Mr. Secretary,” said I. “The general idea is that the farmers are going to ruin. They are rushing to the cities, and they are com- plaining all over the country. How is this?” “It is not half as bad as it is painted,” said the Secretary. ‘The farmers are mak- ing as much money as any other people in the United States. They don’t make as much as they formerly did. No business is dcing that. Why, we used to get ten per cent for money out west on gilt-edged security. I have paid twelve per cent my- self, mortgaging the best of real estate to get it, and have made money out of it. You can now borrow all the money you want for six per cent. The people are now contented with small profits. It is the same in the mercantile business, The store- keepers used to growl when their profits were less than twenty-five per cent. They are now glad to get eight per cent. The truth {s that the farmers’ profits have fallen the least, and failures are propor- ticnately less among them than among any other class of business men. Take this mat- ter of mortgaged farms. These farmers are doing business on borrowed capital, and now and then one of them fails. The mejority of merchants do their business the same way, and ninety per cent fail at some time in their lives. 1 believe the percentage of failures in the dry goods business is ful- ly as high as ninety-seven per cent. The majority of the farmers succeed. They 15 pay their expenses, and in the end own their farms. Bes Foreign Markets:for the Farmer. “The trouble with ly of our farmers,” ecntinued Secretary Morton, “is that they are too apt to put ell their eggs into one basket. They do notidiversify their crop, and the failure of 4 single staple causes the ruin of the whole Section. There is a vast market for the American farmer in fcreign lands which has not yet been touch- ed. We must study; the wants of the people abroad and raise feed for them. This is the chief work of the Agricultural Depart- ment today. I am having our consuls and ministers all over ,the world investigate the markets for American goods, and it is surprising what a.variety of valuable in- formation they are isending in to us. We might send millions of dollars’ worth of food products to England yearly. Take the matter of eggs. England is now importing more than $18,000,000 worth every year. The little country of Belgium, crowded as it is, sells $3,000,000 worth ‘of eggs for British stomachs, and France gets $7,000,000 a year out of the eggs which she supplies to John Bull. With our vast area, and our so-called starving farmers, we do not raise enough eggs for ourselves. We import them by the millions, and the cackling of tens of thousands of Canadian hens is heard daily over the eggs which they are laying for the United States. Eggs are beneath the notice of the average American farmer. His wife may, perhaps, get a bit of her pin money out of the chickens, but that is all. We import a great quantity of cabbages, and we buy fruit and nuts which we might raise ourselves, to the extent of mil- Mons of dollars a year. We are shipping more butter every year, but New Zealand and Australia are crowding us in this line. They are sending vast quantities to Eng- land, and selling it there for a shilling a pound. Within four years the consumption of butter in England has risen $10,000,000, and the Australian export has increased rearly $3,000,000 during this time. Many parts of our southern states are now rais- ing dairy products, and in east Tennessee the chickens and the ergs last year brought in more money than all the wheat.” Points on Hogs. “How about meat, Mr. Secretary? Is not that market well cared for?” “No,” replied Mr. Morton, “the meat market is not half worked. We ship great quantities to Europe, but we do not get the best prices. Take our bacon. It brings 9 cents a pound in England. The Danish bacon sells for 14 cents a pound, and the famous Wilkshire baton is worth 18 cents a pound. Had we gotten the best prices our bacon would have been worth nearly ten million dollars more to us than it was last year. The English like a lean bacon, and packers there buy hogs according to the thickness of the fat upon their backs. A hog that has fat two and one-fourth inches thick brings a shilling more per twenty pounds of its weight than a hog whose fat on the back is three inches thie! The English want lean swine. They will not buy any hogs that weigh more than 240 pounds, as they know that bacon from such hogs is not in demand. Here our ambition is to raise fat hogs, and I have seen car loads of swine which will average 400 pounds in weight. St we have a great trade in farm products with England. Fully half of all our fore exports go there. We send mcre than 100,000 tons of hay and more than 30,000 tons of cheese to Great Britain every year. We send only 0 tons of butter, and Denmark beais us in this article alone by 48,000 tons year- ly. Mnchine Farmers. “The-trouble with us,” the Secretary of Agriculture continued, “is that we are too luxurious in our methods. We have been making money so easily that we can’t ap- preciate the change in conditions the world over, and we have not tried to adapt our- selves to them. Our farmers are machine farmers. They raise practically nothing that cannot be raised by machinery. Take the matter of wheat. The farmer now rides the plow as he breaks the soil. He rides as he harrows, and he plants his fields with a sulky drill, The crop comes up of itself and when ft is ripe the farmer in takes a ride on a reaping machine yrella over his head, and when is finished the machine has cut and A steam engine does his small part of the straw forms the fuel which makes the steam. All this is expensive, and if the wh brings a low prise, er there is a crop f ure, the farmer runs behind. He does not he bound his grain. thrashing, and a watch the small ledks and he does not raise the little things which pay so well. Take the onion crop. Onions always bring a high price here, and it to raise them. We import vast quantities and the American farmer lets the outsiders have the profit. It ts so all over the country. The farmer of the south sticks to his cot- ton and tobacco, and he of the north and west to his wheat and corn.” Farmers’ Wiv: “What do you think of the way our farmers live, Mr. Secretary?” I asked. “Would it not be better if they lived in villages, and not on their farms?” “In many respects, yes," was the reply. “The farmer’s wife has a dreary lot. She is in most cases little better than a slave to her work and her house. She drags out a sad existence, scrubbing and cooking, with few resources outside of herself. I can't imagine anything much worse than her condition, and it seems to me that the European system of farm villages is bet- ter than ours. And still, the most of our farmers’ wives are bright women. They are as a rule industrious and good business women, but they get little for it. I believe in making women to a large extent the business partners of their husbands. They are not so in the case of most men. Take, for instance, a story I heard the other day about the family of an old farmer in In- dana, The man and his wife had lived to- gether for fifty years. Their children had grown up and left them, and now, at sev- enty, the farmer found the burden of his work too much for him, and he decided to sell his farm and live off of the interest. It was worth $40,000, but when the deed came to be made the farmer’s wife object- ed. She said she had helped to pay for the farm. She had worked all her life for it, and she was bound to have some of the money which it brought before she signed the deed. The lawyer and the husband were dumfounded. They had not anticipat- ed such a complication, and at last one of them asked the old lady how much she thought she ought to have. She hesitated a moment, and then said that she believed she was really entitled to ask for as much as $2, Of course, she got it, but think how little money she must have had in the past to have made such a fuss about this amount. How One Rich Farmer Skimped His Wife. “I am surprised how mean men are some- times to their wives,” continued Secretary Morton; “not only farmers, but other men as well. Woman is naturally a self-sacri- ficing creature, ard she submits to many a thing a man would not think of tolerat- ing. Speaking of little meannesses, let me ive you an incident that I saw myself the days of the war. I happened to be in a stere in my town one day when an old fellow whom I will call Jones came in with his wife to buy some goods. This man Jones came from one of the most cele- brated families tn the;United States. He settled in Nebcaska when it was still a ter- ritory, and by eeonomy and thrift he had now gotten a farm of something like 1,000 acres. He was known to have money in the benk, and .was eonsidered wealthy. Well, shortly after hepentered the store Mrs. Jones took up a, piece of calico and admired it very much. As she looked at it, she said to her husband: “Pa, I ought te have a new dress, and I Uke this very much, Don’t you think we could afford to buy it?” “Oh, I suppose so,” replied the old man, and he thereupon asked the clerk the price. He was told it was 50 cents a yard. Old Mr. Jones raised: his eyes at this, and ask- ed his wife how much it would take. She replied she didn’t think she could get along on less than twelve yards,and he answered: “Why, ma, twelve yards of that goods at 50 cents a yard would cost $6. Now, don’t you think that that is pretty high?” Yes,” she replied, “I do, but I need the ar Well, said the old man, times are hard, and I do wish you could get along without it just now. Couldn't you?” “Yes, I suppose I could,” replied the old lady with a sigh, and the calico was dropped. A moment later old Mr. Jones asked the same clerk if he had any tobacco, and whether he had any of that good old Vir- ginla leaf, which they used to keep in stock. The clerk said: ‘Yes, we have, but it's awful high. It’s $2 a pound, and I think it will go higher before it gets less. We have just one caddy left.” “You think it will go higher,” replied Jone: ‘Yes, said the clerk, it’s sure to go up.”” “Weil, you might put me up five pounds,” said the old man, and a moment later I ) time out of it. saw him carrying it out of the store. He had not $6 to spend for his wife's calico dress, but he thought nothing of putting $10 into plug tobacco. This is a sample of the kind of treatment some wives are re- ceiving every day. I don’t suppose old Mr. Jones realized his selfishness. He probably loved his wife, but he had been brought up the wrong way. The Amcrican Horse and Horse Ment. “How about the great American horse, Secretary Morton? It is said his days are numbered.” “I fear that is true,” replied the Secre- tary. “The electric car and the bicycle have taken away his occupation, and I expect to see the day when our carriages will be run by electricity. The bicycle of the fu- ture may have a storage battery, and the aay of high-priced horse flesh outside of the sporting and racing stock has gone forever. Why, we had an application a few days ago from one of our experiment sta- tions. The man said he wanted a team of horses, and the department wrote him that if it did rot cost coo muca his wish might be granted. He replied that he could get a good team for $25, and we allowed him to do so. I am driving a horse myself now for which 1 paid $80. He is four years old and a good roadster. You can get a good horse aimost anywhere for $50, and it is said that in the fa> west they are turning the horses out and tieing placards to them upon which are printed the words: ‘He who feeds me can have me.’”” Horse Meat and Horse Sausage. “I see that one of our consuls in Germany advises the raising of horse meat for ex- port to that country. What do you think of that?” “I believe more money can be made in raising other kinds of meat,” replied Sec- retary Morton, “and I do not believe in these stories about the money which Amer- icans can make in shipping horse sausage to Germany. The Germans have a tariff on horse meat of more than 2 cents per pound, and the French have a similar tariff. It is true that horse meat is used more extensively every year in Europe than in the past. Between 1889 and 1893 more than 100,000 horses were killed there for human consumption, and in 1893 the total weight of dressed horse flesh used amounted to more than 48,000,000 pounds. They use every part of the horse, and they have horse steaks and horse roasts, and there are horse meat restaurants, where you can buy horse soup. I would not like to eat it. I feel very much concerning it like my wife did about one of a herd of deer which we had on our place in Nebraska and which was accidentally shot. It was a pretty little coe, and when it was brought home it still had a blue ribbon tied about its neck, which we had fastened to it. It was v fat, and as I looked at it I said: ‘Well, there is one thing about it, you can give us some fresh meat.’ My wife replied: ‘Why, you don’t think you could eat that. Why, my dear, 1 would just as soon thifk of eating a slice of one of the children.’ It is the same with the horse. It is too close to us. We love it too mu@h to ever Want to eat it, and it will be a long time before there Il be a market for horse meat in Amer v2 FRANK G. CARPENTER. =e TO LEAD THE MINUET. A Episode in Senator Dubois’ Career Which Gave Him Trouble. “What gave me as much trouble back in Idaho last campaign,” remarked Senator Dubois to a Star writer, “as anything else was what one might call a sociai misunder- standing. I was up to Senator Brice’s house to dinner one evening, and chanced to be next to Mrs. Carlisle—the Secretary's good wife was just then earnestly bent on a minuet to be danced in one of the local theaters for gate money, the latter to be devoted to the rehabilitation of Jackson's tomb, which mausoleum was getting much out of repair. At the dinner she turned to me, and after considering me attentively for a moment, asked me if I would not lead the minuet. I supposed it was a bit of humor. I did not regard myself as an ex- pert in either the matter of minuets or any other fashion of dance. To carry out what I deemed as an excellent jest, I replied: ““Yes, certainly. I will lead the minuet with great pleasure. “The next day I traveled south with the funeral of Senator Colquitt. While in Gecrgia I saw with something like a cold chill an announcement in the Washington Star that I was scheduled’ to lead the com- ing minuet. I came back to Washington and corrected this false impression as quickly as I could, but it was too late. In about two weeks the returns began to come in from Idaho. The populist papers especially were very indignant. Some would comments like thi ““We see by The Washington Star that Dubois is about to lead a minuet. If they him on the lariat polka, or a poca- 1, he will perform much more sat- Dubois was brought up in a rattlesnake country, and can make a back- ward jump of nine feet.” “Another paper took it sadly—something like this: “Here is a good thing, we don’t think. We note by the Washington papers that while the impoverished people of Idaho are jumping sidewise for grub, Dubois is in Washington dancing minuets to put an- other coat of paint on the tomb of Anirew Jackson. If he will show the same agility in getting througa a silver bill, 16 to 1, we will find no fault. But with present busi- ness prospects in Idaho, and silver too dead to skin, it doesn’t look’ well to see Idaho's senior Senator leading down the revels at the capital.” “Not only did the papers take a bitter-| view of the affair, but one populist conven- tion passed a resolution denouncing me and my minuet. Altogether, I got a very bard One of the grave questions which I had to meet while making speeches last fall was this minuet accusation. How- ever, I think it is thoroughly understood in Idaho now that my past is free from minuets, and that my future promises to be absolutely barren of this engaging dance.” ————_—_ In a Scotch Parish. From the Boston Budget. It was in one of the cozy villages of bonnie Scotland, where gossip is the chief barter and church the chief duty of every “mon” and all the “weemin.” For once gossip and church were traveling the same way, for Dougold McSorlie, the minister, had suddenly grown unpopular, and the numbers of his congregation were steadily diminishing. No one knew better than he that some- thing must be done; so he concluded to do a little house-to-house missionary work, and thus arouse more interest in church af- fairs. Lut his enthusiasm was short lived. The first man he accosted was Tonald Camp- bell, a sturdy old Scot of well known free- thinking tendencies. “Tonald,” began the minister, were ye no’ at the kirk last Sawhs “I was at Mr. McShouter’s kirk, ister.” This was hardly the reply that was ex- pected, but the minister continued with added gravity: “I dinna like ye rinnin’ aboot tae strange kirks i? this way. I'm pairfeckly sure ye yersel’ widna like yer ain sheep strayin’ awa’ inta strange pas- tures. Tonald cast a sidelong glance at his crit- ic. “I widna care a grain, meenister, gin it was better gress meen- e+ Linen for Liners. Frem Tid-Bits. ‘There are no laundries on board ship; they take up too much room. So the chief steward lays in thousands of pillow slips, sheets and towels. These come on board tied up in bales of a dozen each, and are stored in the linen locker, a cubbyhole of a place, on the main deck; the ventilator pipes from the engine room run through it, and keep it hot. There is no danger of linen getting mil- dewed there. The linen which has been used is thrown into another room, provid- ed with the same atmosphere, and is kept thoroughly dry. Where there are clean napkins every day, frequent changes of state room linen, and an everlasting re- plenishing of towel racks, the demands upon the linen locker are very extensive. A liner iike the New York puts to sea with about 9,000 serviettes, 10,000 towels, 6,000 or 7,000 ‘sheets, 8,000 pillow slips and about 1,000 table cloths. Most of these find their way to the soiled linen locker the course of the voyage. When the vessel ar- rives they are carted off to a laundry. ——<ee—_____ $1.25 to Baltimore and Return §1. via B. and 0. R. R. Tickets sold for, and good going on all B. and O. trains Saturday and Sunday, June 29 and 30, and good to return until Monday, July 1, inclusive. —Advt. ees The finest beds, the most delicate cooking and the best service at Coltons-on-the-Po- tomac,—Advt. FOREMAN CHARLES ROLFE. Superintendent of One of the Biggest Composing Rooms in America. Up in the top story of The Globe building, where the typesetting and other machines do everything but talk, says the Boston Globe, there is a pleas- ant-faced, clear skinned, light complexioned man of 52, who has been with The Globe ever since the birthday of that great paper. He is the night foreman of the composing room, and looks fully 15 years younger than he really is, His name is Mr. Charles Rolfe. Nervous headaches that well-nich drove him to distraction first introduced him to Paine’s celery ccmpound, "That war five years ago, and until that time he was one of the most pronounced opponents of prepared remedies to be found in the city. Just how Paine’s celery compound was first brought to his attention he does not remember, but it has done him so much good that the compound has ro more enthusiastic champion Uving. He is as happy as any one in the enjoyment of good health could be, and for that happiness he gives full credit to Paine’s celery compound. Read what he has to say about the medicine: “I am always: ready to recommend Paine’s celery compound when I hear of a case similar to my own. Some five years ago I was suffering from headaches which were sometimes so severe during working hours of the night that I would clap my hands over my head to ‘hold the top on,’ the pain being excruciating. These attacks would occur sometimes as often as three times a week. Sleep was out of the question, the pillow seeming but a Dock of wood. ‘Just at the time I was suffering most I bought a bottle of Paine’s celery compound, began at once to take it, and before a week had passed the head- aches began to disappear. I felt almost a new man before the bottle was empty. I purchased more, and for two years kept it in the house for use whenever I felt a return of the old pains. It never failed in giving me relief. The other mem- bers of my family also began to take it—my wife for a feeling of general weakness, she being at that time much ‘run down’ and never feeling well enough to perform the work of the home. Within a week she was, as she expressed it, ‘as well 98 ever in her life,” and similar reports came from all our friends to whom we had recommended it. “I feel confident that in rervous headaches and « ‘run down’ system the compound will be beneficial every time, if not a perfect cure. “In some instances we have not only recom- mended it, but furnished it to very aged friends, and the effect of one bottle has seemed marvelous, one particular old friend of mine telling me that before one bottle had been used he ‘felt at least ten years younger, and certainly had not felt as good for 10 years.” ‘During the last five years I have used a great mony bottles of the compound—that is, in my home. I am positive that It ic a sure cure for nervous headaches and a broken-down feeling, es- pecially in the case of elderly persons. ‘There is one case in particular I call to mind, in which Paine’s celery compound asserted its food qualities. We kad a young married lady fiend, wlo was nursing her 4-months-old child, and fovnd that she could not perform her household duties on account of the weak cond:tion she seemed always to be in. On the recommendation of my wife and myself she took one bottle of the com- pound, and before two weeks had passed was able to do her own washing cven, in addition to house- work. About three bottles were used. I have yet to hear from any friend to whom I recommended it other than the most favorable results.” UNCLE SAM’S WARDS A Censts Office Estimate of What the Indian Has Cost. The Expense of the Various Wars as Well as the Civil Administra- tion is Included. Written for The Evening Star. In the complete Indian census report, just published, an interesting attempt is made for the first time to cast up in figures an aggregate of the government expenditures on account of the red men residing within our borders since the Union was establish- e€d in 1789, The result of this remarkable attempt indicates in the statistics present- ed that the gigantic sum of one billion one hundred and five million odd dollars ($1,- 105 was spent by the government up to the year 1890, either upon the In- dians dire*tly, or indirectly because of In- dians. Counting in, however, the civil and military expenses for Indians since then, together with incidental experses not recog- nized in the official figures given, it is safe to say that up to June 30, 1805, a further sum of $144,780,628 may be added to the foregoing figures, making a grand aggre- gate of $1,250,000,000 chargeable to Indians to date. The problem is such a difficult and in- tricate one that it has never been attempted before. The prime factors entering into the problem are (1) the expenses of the wars waged between the federal government and the Indian tribes since the date mentioned and the maintenance of our standing army in the vicinity of the reservations, (2) the claims of the states for indemnity for ex- penses incurred in repelling Indian inva- sions, @) the civil and educational expenses on account of Indians, and (4) the cost of pensions to the survivors or widows of sol- diers serving in Indian wars. Wars With the Red Men. Of course, a large amount of treasure Was spent in wars with the American In- dions prior to the establishment of the federal government in 178). Indeed, ever since the white man appeared within the present territory of the United States there has been war aimost continually, beginning on the Pacific side in 1539, and on the At- lantic side soon after the year 1600. Since the founding of our government the United States army, except when engaged in the wars with Great Britain and Mexico, and during the rebellion, *has been used almost exclusively in the Indian service, and has heen stationed largely in the Indian coun- try or along the frontier. In their calculation the Indian census ex- perts omit the army expenses incident to the wars with England and Mexico, and the rebellion, with its sequel of reconstruc- tion, and safely count two-thirds of the total expenses of the army as chargeabie * directly or indirectly to the Indians. The total expenses of the army from 1789 to 1800 were found to be $ 21,495; but de- ducting $3,514,911,007 for the foreign wars and the rebellion, the remainder is $1,210,- 610,487. Fully two-thirds of this sum, or $07,073,658, it is estimated, was expended for Indian wars and for army service against the Indians. To this sum the census experts add the expenses of the Indian civil administration for the period between 1789 and 1890, amounting to M4,082, and $10,000,0¢ more to reimburse particular states for ex- penses incurred by them in Indian wars, and $28,201,632 more for pensions to sur- vivors or widows of Indian Wars, and then the total foots up to $1,105,219, Count- ing in, as suggested above, $14,780,628 for civil administration expenses and a pro- portionate share of the army expenses since 1890, the grand total becomes $1,250, 000,000—a billion and a quarter of dollars. Uncle Sam Paid the Bills. The Indian wars under the government of the United States are stated to bave numbered more than forty and to have cest the lives of about 19,000 white men, men and children, including about 5,400 Killed in individual encounters, of which history takes no note, and of 30,000 Indians, including 8,500 killed in personal encoun: ters. It has been the policy of the national government since the year 1828 to refund to the states and territories the moneys paid out by them in suppressing Indian hostilities. This lability is based on the fast that the federal government has treated the Indians either as nations or as wards of the nation, thus keeping them from control by the several states. Speaking of the number of Indians now in the United States, us shown by the re- ports of special agents, and the number supposed to have tived in the past, the census editor sa: Tt is not probable that the present area of the United States since the white man came has contained at one time more than £00,000 Indians. High esti- mates were made in the early days, but the average even then was about 1,000,000, In 1890 we have 248.253 civilized and un- civilized Indians. Through almost four centuries warlike bands have resisted, and many of these Indians are still resisting progress. There are not ten tribes out of any of the 200 or more now in the United States but that have been in revolt, and those existing as tribes are now remnants, with a few exceptions, too poor or too few to fight, or they consider it too dangerous.”" tino Ene The § ish Flounce. The Spanish flounce seems to be a great favorite fer thin frocks, for the -eason, probably, that the underskirt then forms a kind of petticoat. Of course this under- skirt should always have a narrow foot ruffle of the same to make the upper flounce stand out well. A pretty way of making a mull or dotted swiss after the Spanish — skirt fashion it to insert a band or two of Valenciennes close to the foot and finish the foot with a slightly full edging of Valenciennes. At the top of the rule finish with a bit of the edging. <A _ re- markably pretty Spanish flounce frock for a young lady had as the foundation slip creem swivel silk gingham with a dot in it. The slip was in princess style and finished at the foot wi two tiny ruffles of the same. The Spanish flounce was of Paris muslin, shirred three times and finished with a lace edging, and set on the slip just below the hips. A baby puffed waist, low necked and shirred, w: set on in blouse fashion over the silk w and the unlined sleeves were of the Paris muslin. Double rabbits’ ears of black vel- vet completed the pretty costume. These Spanish flounces must be adjusted very refully, with the fullness painstakingly distributed, or they will make you lovk like a freak. _ Another Widow Jo! From the Oakland Times. First doctor—“Well, doctor, I had a pe+ culiar case today. Second doctor—“What was it, please?” First doctor—‘“I attended a grass widow who is afflicted with hay fever.” ———— see A Scheme for Pocts. From the Detroit Free Press. First amateur poet (enviously)—“How did you get the editor to accept that poem?” Second amateur poet Dh, e enough, I inclosed $2 for return postage.’ From Life. By Easy Stages.