Evening Star Newspaper, August 17, 1895, Page 14

OUTSIDE THE MONASTERY. GREAT ST. BERNARD The Famous Pass and Its Comfort- able Hospice. MONKS AND THEIR DUTIES How the Monastry Originated and is Kept Up. THE WONDERFUL DOGS} Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. LTHOUGH THE scenery, along the Great St. Bernard is less attractive than that of the other Al- pine passes, it is fre- quented, neverthe- less, by more than twenty thousand tourists annually,the greater number of whom cross the pass on account of the convenient approach to Italy and the op- portunity afforded of spending a night with the Augustine monks and their famous dogs. In late yeas, owing to the inroads made by the numerous trans-Alpine railways in diverting the channel of transportation, the traffic over the pass has suffered to such an extent that none save the poorest make use of this celebrated mountain thoroughfare during the nine months that it is covered with snow. However, the Has Reseued Many. humbler classes, who, on account of pov- erty, are unable to patronize the railroad, still cross the St. Bernard in suflicient numbers to warrant the maintenance of the refuge upon its summit. Scarcely a year passes without the record of brilliant rescues of travelers lost in the snow or the recovery of the bodies of others less’ fortu- nate. The Beginning of the Pass. ‘The pass is usually approached from the Swiss side. It may be sald to commence at Martingny, the little town upon the Jura and Simplon railway, which traverses the valley of the Rhone. Here commences the highway, which, after passing the vil- lege of Martingny-Bourg, divides at the base of a jrojecting mountain Into two roads, one leading over the Tete Noir to Chamounix, the other following the deep ravine of the Drance, going over the great St. Bernard to Aosta. Ancient Hostelrics. The villages along the route fre numer- ous, but interesting only by reason of their antiquity. Orsiers, with {ts curlous old tower, possesses a novel hotel, presided over for generations by one family. The dining room in the rostelry is on the third floor, while the sleeping apartments are in the garret above. Hemmed in by build- ings on all sides, the rooms are extremely dark, causing one to wonder why, wien there is so much open land in the vicinity and the tourists are so numerous, such 2 site is used for.an inn. At Liddes Is a qvaint little chapel and at Bourg. St. Pierre a historical tavern, where Napoleon had his headquarters, and where, notwithstand- ing the altitude, as fine a meal is to be obtained as anywhere in the Alps. Oppo- site this well-known road house is an old Roman mile stone, in the form of a pillar some seven feet high, the letters upon which are quite legible. An ancient gate- way is also to be seen, together with the ruins of a former town. This part of the highway was a well-traveled road in the days of the Roman empire. Stretches of cobbie pavement still exist along the en- tire route. The Fameun Monastery. The monastery, which has a branch upon the Simplon, is maintained by its own endowments, which in the middle ages were quite extensive, but watch, through various misfortunes, have been greatly re- fiuced, and also voluntary contributions rollected all over Europe. It is one of the videst ecciestastical orders in existenc: the brotherhood having been founded by Bt. Bernard de Menthon in the latter part pf the tenth century, from whom it takes Its name, and who replaced the church erected by Emperor Constantine, with the A Sure Guardian. cloister. The present structures, which have been greatly enlarged and improved during the last fifty years, were erected uring the first half of the sixteenth cen- tury. They consist of two massive three- story stone buildings—one the monastery preper, the other the refuge house, used at present as a storage building and kennel for the dogs, but so constructed as to be suitable for dwelling purposes in case of an emergency, such as fire. The main building is quite roomy, accommodating with comfort sixty tourists. The Monks. ‘The number of monks is not constant. It varies between thirty and forty—of whom but ten to twelve dwell in the mon- astery. This number Is augmented by the seven Marroniers—picked men, capable of withstanding the greatest hardships, whose duty it Is to go out with the younger monks and the dogs during the stormy and nous nights of winter. From an in- standpoint, the brotherhood is up of as cultured and as refined men as one could expect to find in the highest social circles. Kind-hearted to an extreme ree, they are often imposed upon by not the lower classes, whom they never refuse a meal, but the rich travelers, who enjoy their hospitality and the gratuitous food, as well as thetr wine, without con- tributing toward the maintenance of the refuge. They never accept money, and Whenever contributions are tendered they: politely refuse, the donor being advised to deposit the same in the alms box in the chapel cornected with the cloister. The rigor of the winter climate of the summit of Great St. Bernard, which, next to the refuge upon the Stelvio, is the nigh- est inhabited point in Europe, is so severe that it is wont to shatter the constitution of the moaks during their fifteen years of active service. ‘After the lapse of that time they are transferred broken in health to the little asylum at Martingny, in the balmy valley of the Rhone, where amid the foothills of the mountains they ter- minate their worldly existence ministering to the wants of the pocr. ‘ Phe World-Famed Dogs. As regards the St. Bernard breed of dogs it has become extinct, apd although the canines now employed are noble and sa- gacious animals, and are looked upon as descendants of the breed coming from the Pyrenees, they are at the most rothing more than Newfoundlands crossed with the original stock. Barry, the most cel2brated A Safe Retreat. of them all, who is said to have rescued over seventy persons, hastyecn dead for many years. With his death passed away the last of the thoroughbreds. Nevertie- less the monks possess two sets of val:vble dogs, the young of which are eagerly sought, bringing fabulous prices in the European markets. They ere erroneously known as the rough and the smooth-coat- ed St. Bernards. ‘The prevailing color of the smooth-coated dogs is white, while that of the rough- coated breed is yellow. No particular pains having been taken to keep the two breeds distinct, there Fas been considerable in and cross breeding, with the result that there is a third type which cannot be designated as belonging to either the smooth or rough- coated class. This last stock js perhaps the best—being fully as large as the other two varieties—having as good a scent, and a coat of hair sufficiently thick to keep the animals warm without incumbering them upon the search. To make the statement that ¢here is no mountain route in Europe that has been used as much as the Great St. Bernard, that myriads have crossed the same, and that thousands have perished along the wayside, will not appear extravagant when it is recalled that the pass has a history go- ing back more than 3,000 years. The Hospice. Upon arriving at the Hospice, the traveler is welcomed by one of the brethren, who es- corts him immediately to his room, which is either lurge or small, containing one bed; sometimes two, and sometimes three or four. These sleeping rooms are beautifully furnished, lace curtains draping the win- dows and engravings and paintings orna- menting the tastefully papered walls. Com- modious washstands with beautifully deco- rated pitchers and basins are to be found in each; but what is more pleasing than all are the large modern brass bedsteads, cov- ered with the whitest of linen. The monks are very solicitous about their guests’ wel- fare, coming before meals to escort them to the dining room. They preside over the table, the food on which is abundant and of an excellent quality, consisting of (with the exception of fast days) the customary meats and vegetables which are to be had in the first-class Swiss hotels. What the Europeans enjoy the mest is the delicious wine, which is dealt out without stint. Af- ter meals the monks take great delight in showing the visitors their library, contain- ing thousands of books in all languages, mostly the presents of grateful tourists,and their museum stocked with ancient and modern coins from all over the world and relics gathered during the existence of the cloister. Early hours are observed at night, the lights being extinguished at 9, when every one is expected to repair to his room. Early Morning in the Chapel. At 5 in the morning, after a refreshing night's sleep, the tourist Is awakened by the peals of the melodious organ in the chapel of the monastery, which is reached by small doors communicating with the two larger nalls of the first and second stories. The sight of the monks robed in the most beautiful regalia, taking their re- spective parts in the servic2, is most im- pressive. On entering, it 1s dark and gloomy, but before the services are finished it is brilliant and resplendent, the light within becoming as soft and translucent as that of the Alpine sky, After mass there is a loud barking of the dogs, who have been released from the-kennels, and a ring- ing of the ominous-sounding bell, which affects one so strangely on account of that Fecullar intonation which is heard no- where else save in the higher altitudes of the mountains. When breakfast Js through with the tourists gather around the younger dogs and puppies, which the mionks offer for sale. They bring prices ranging from 400 to 1,000 francs. Those having the largest paws and heads, with the most projecting lower jaws, command the highest price. Before leaving the visitors usually re- quest to be shown the morgue. The graveled floor of this building is strewn with bones ,and skulls of those wno have perished in the snow. The mum- mified remains of the dead are to be seen as they were found, dressed in the clothes that were in vogue ten, twenty, even fifty, years ago. I distinctly recall the bedy of en old Italian lying against the south wall of the morgue in a sitting po- sition, with his head drooped upon his chest as though in deep meditation. His features were Hfe-like and his clothes well preserv- ed. The thick leggings bound around his legs with broad thongs of leather showed that the aged traveler guarded in a meas- ure against the cold, but the thin linen ghirt, open in frent, exposing a shriveled chest, suggested the probable canse of death. . H. M. —_.__ How She Knew. From Scribner's Magazine. Ethel—So Arthur proposed last ni, D Maite proposed last night?” Ethel—“And did you accept him?” Maude—“I was so awfully excited I don't know whether I did or not. If he comes tonight I did, and if he doesn’t, I didn’t.” —_—§+o2 Better Om. From th> Chiengo News, “Youghnut is dead. “Well, he's betier off." ‘So they say. Lid you know his wife?” vee At the Children's Party. From th> New York Week! Mrs. De Fashi Nurse Giri—“¥ Mrs. De Fas. home. he s time for us to go Which of these children is mine!” THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 17, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. A BICYCLE BEGINNER Experiences of a Man While Learn- ing to Ride. SPITEFUL DISPOSITION OF THE WHEEL Wayward Tendencies That Are Apt to Worry the Learner. SOME PRACTICAL HINTS SS eS “I see by the paper that there are over 300 bicycle manufactories in the United States, and that they are working full time,” said Jimmie Wheelright to The Star man the other day. “Is that £0?” “Yes; and their total output this year will be 500,000 wheels. I tell you, this bicycle riding is getting to be a great thing. Say, old man, why don’t you ride a wheel? It would be a fine thing-for you. Why don’t you do it?” “Oh; it’s too hard to learn.” “Hard? Why, it’s dead easy. Say, you ought to have seen me learning. It cer- tainly was a picnic. People who saw the Performance said it was well worth the price of admission. I' was so busily en- gaged in playing the role of the low come- dian, however, that I could not join in the applause. But I said I was going to learn to ride that wheel, and I did so. Now, if you contemplate learning to ride, you'd Let- ter let me tell you some things to do and others,to avoid. The trouble with me was that I went right into it, like going to eplit rails, by main force and awkwardness. Sometimes you can win out that way, as 1 happened to do, but you are more likely to smash a wheel and lay yourself up for a few days. “When I deter- mined to learn I sent down and hired a wheel. They did not know it was for me, or they never would have let a beginner have a good wheel. They'd rope you into the riding school and sell you $2 worth of lesson tickets, which, after all, is the best = way to do, for it was just my Grover Cleve- land luck that carried me through without @ wreek. “Well, I took the wheel out into the side street, where I thought there was ro- body looking on. I grabbed hold of the handle bars, and as I jumped into the seat and started off I said to the wheel, ‘Now you've found your master.’ You see, old man, that was the spirit in which I was going into the thing, that I was to ride the wheel, and I thought ft would be just as well to have that idea well planted in my mind from the outset. But I am convinced now that it was wrong to taunt the wheel with having found a master, at least so early in the game. My using that ill-ad- vised expression seemed to put the Old Nick into the bicycle. It kind of slanted over to one side, like a horse on the side of a sandy slope, and started for the curbstone. “At that time I was doing what I sup- posed to be the proper thing, and was bearing down on the handle bars with all my muscle. I could not dissuade that wheel from its intention to mount the sidewalk to save my life. The harder I worked, the more determined it was to per- sist in its course, and in a few seconds bumped hard into the curb and landed me in a heap on the sidewalk. Then it fell over on top of me, apparently to give em- phasis to the refutation of my statement that F was its master. When I mounted again it was in a spirit of at least accord- ing the wheel equal rights in this conflict for mastery, a confession I would not have made at first.- But I believe that bicycle was possessed of a devil. It was one of these spiteful, revengeful devils, and before I had proceeded ten steps had again dem- onstrated, this time in the middle of the street, where a man had been watering with the hose, that I was not the master. “The next time I mounted I started off all right and rode for twenty yards with- cut any trouble. Then that feeling of gloating, that sense of mastery over an inanimate thing, a feeling that you want to religiously eschew, old man, came into \ my mind. Just at that moment the wheel saw a piece cf paper in the road, and, I suppose, shied at it. That's the only way I can ac- + count for what fol- lowed. You know there's nothing so unsettling as to be riding along smooth- unsuspectingly on horseback Se i Y, and have the animal shy at an ob- ly and ject in the road, and I reckon its about the same way with a wheel. Any- how, there was some kind of sudden and entirely unexpected motion of the wheel, a sort of starting one way and then su denly changing its mind and going an- other, and over I went. The wheel wer too, and I honestly believe that if it been in its power the thing would have got up and run over me while I was down. I say this because there was something so spiteful and uncalled for in its antics. “But didn’t it hurt you to be slammed around that way?’ asked The Star man, timidly. “Well, I'll tell you about that afterward. At that time I was not conscious of any- thing except a kind of white heat of rage in my soul against that wheel. I tell you, old man, you never imagined how revenge- ful you can get and what an un-Christian- Itke spirit you can entertain until you have a controversy like that with an in- significant-looking little arrangement of steel and wood. I was fairly burning up inside of me with venomous hate toward that wheel. To make matters worse, seme of my acquaintances had come around the corner and were lined up on the steps of @ vacant house like crows on a fence, ap- parently getting a great deal of amusement out of my efforts. Katrina was there, too, lavghing at me. “This time I made up my mind to do things with a rush. I put my foot on the hub, and, giving the wheel a vigorous shove, jumped into the saddle and start- ed off at a lively pace. The thing yaw- ed right smart, and made some tacks from one side of the street to the other that would have fill- ed a yachtsman with envy. But it kept an even keel, and I was getting up speed on it, and gradually straightening out on a level course, when a block-headed man had to go and get in the way. I called to him to look out, and he looked out and then tried to get out. He wert to starboard just about the time I tcok the starboard tack, and when I came over to port he had no more sense than to follow suit, I tacked again, and instead of keeping on his course nothing would do but he mist fetch up in the wind also, and go off on the £ame course. “I believe that he honestly meant to get cut of my way, but, like so many people in this world, his good intentions were en- tirely frustrated by the manner of their execution. Finding that we were coming to close quarters, he turned around and started to run, thinking probably that a stern chase ts a long chase, and that if he could not cross my bows he might outsail me. Just as he bore ey cre the wand, hewever, I came onto head on. My front wheel passed between his legs, and as we closed I grabbed him tightly around the neck. “ ‘Lemme go,’ he sputtered. “{ explained to him that I weuld ke very glad to let go, if he could arrange a satis- factory compromise, by which I could be safely lowered to the ground, but that otherwise I would be cempelled to hold on, for I felt assured that the moment I let go the wheel would seize the opportunity to buck and throw me over his head. He said it was nonsense; that a wheel could not buck. J told him he did not know this wheel. It had shied, balked and laid down in the middle of the road, and I was ready to believe it would buck. After a little argument we made a way by which he steadied the wheel with his legs and hands while 1 slid off. I won’t say that the wheel tried to kick that would sound fi and I'll bet on it. “I mounted again and started back to- ward the other end of the street, and made such nice progress that I turned_the corner '. Juand went down the next street, inwardly Wh, je as I got down, for ish, but it’ wanted to, qwondering what made the wheel so docile, _but absolutely un- suspicious of what was up. In a moment Tite dawned upon me. That wheel was de- . eoying me on to play me another trick. I ‘was on a down grade. The more I pedaled the faster I went, and the grade was getting steeper. I shouted for some one to head me off, but they only laughed at me and seemed to think the situation a joke. Finally I took my feet off the pedals and, grabbing the handle bars tightly, hung on for dear life and let’the thing run. It went down the hill and around the corner, where it struck another grade. I closed my eyes and awaited the end with resignation. I re- member darting past several vehicles and between others, while some drivers drew to one side to let me pass. At last we struck an up grade, and when the wheel stopped I rolled off. Then I got on and practiced until I just naturally worried that. wheel into submission. 5 “Now, old man, if you want to ride go t- a riding school and learn right. But tf any one is fool enough to let you learn on his own wheel, remember these things: Mount from the sidewalk and get your trusting and foolish friend to start you. Don’t bear down on your handle bars, bu! keep your feet working, and, for the rest, put your trust in Providence, for that is your only hope.” _—_ RAILROAD DEPOT SCENES. ‘The Strange Variety and Contrasts Seen in the Waiting Rooms. If one is fond of studying human nature, a 1ailway station is a good place to seek subjects. There ts always a hurry and rush and. bustle about a big railway station, and one can’t help wondering what in the world all the people are going to do, where they are going, whether their trip is to be sad and sorry, or whether joy and happi- ness lies at the other end of the journey. Sometimes one wonders if half of the nondescript travelers have any distinct idea of a destination, or if they simply buy tickets from town to town, stopping off at last when they strike one that seems to suit their purposes, whatever they may be. Mest of them Jook a3 though they had no purpose in life. They are the parasites of existence, and that they can trayel at all is a constant surprise. A depot master sees many mirth provok- ing, many pitiable sights in his day’s duty, and probably more sides of human nature than anybody would imagine possible. One would scarcely think that’ a station wait- ing room was a good “courting” place, but there is lots of it done there. Runaway couples land in Wash- ington before it is possible to get into the office of a justice of the peace. or to waken a minister of so they hard benches and snuggle up to each other with silly snickers and ‘‘goo goo” babblings per- fectly audible to'everybody, but they do not seem to mind in‘the least the chaffing they get from all sides. : Sometimes it ts a.criminal who will draw atientfn. Just a day ago a manacled man sat in the waiting room on parole of honor, while the sheriff went out for something. Gentlemanly ant well dressed, he sat with his hands covered. with a light coat, just the back of one-showing, with a handsome ring on the third finger. Its sparkle caught the eyes cf a golden-haired toddler, and she ran up to him and touched it. He smiled at her, and she:zeached up her arms and said: “Rooful wing: tate m: The criminal-reddened and shook his head. The child tried to climb up and fell over his feet... Quick as’ a flash he threw off the coat and stooped to pick her up, but his manacied hands prevented. The nurse snatched the bewildered child from his slight grasp and fied affrighted. Every- body sitting near him moved away, and into his face there came an awful look of despair, but he said never a word. What was his history, do you suppose? There was a little woman in shabby new black, who looked as though the east wind had always blown in her face, it was so wan and worn, and a little boy in much too large new clothes kept asking impa- tiently if papa had come yet. At last the woman got up wearily when the hands touched 2:33 8G on the face of the clock, and made her Way to the gates, Wistfully she watch- ed the baggage carts, till one brought a Pine box longer and deeper than any of the others, then she be- gan to weep, and the little boy cried with her. Papa had come. Trooping behind the lifeless clay came a wedding party, full of life and laughter, all of them, and utterly heedless of the trage- dy upon which they were almost tripping. Fack of them an old, old lady was kissing and cooing over a bit of muslin and lace and flannel, and when The Star writer smiled involuntarily at the happy young mother and the charming old lady, the lat- ter said, with an apologetic laugh that was yet very proud: “It’s my first great-grand- child, and such a fine boy.” An old veteran sitting listlessly in one of the hard seats with his head on his canes— he had to use two in walking—roused up to tell a brisk young man that he had been “fired and was going out to hunt work in a hay field a few miles out.” What on earth the poor old war horse could do is a mys- tery. By the door stood a lot of “rose buds” with their chaperon, going to the seashore for a week, and some white duck youths were hovering about in the vicinity. A Dicycler In full “regimentals” was carefully herding his machine -while im- . patiently waiting for Someone to arrive. A ministerial —_gentle- man walked solemnly back and forth, paus- ing once to tell a friend taat he was wait- ing to “break the sad news to the son of his friend.” Therg were squalling infants and tired mothera white-faced department clerks and loudly < confidence raen. There were nds and wives quarrel- ing disgracefully Sbout family affairs, and @ group of Congressmen discussing silver, a foreign minister en route to his post, with @ group of admiring friends about’ him, and a United States Senator taking his wife home to die! And so they come and go, cradle and: coffin touching, honor and dishonor shoulderto shoulder, smiles and tears so close that they mingle, the proud poor and the proud rich, and like the river of time, the same train carries both, just as safely, just as securely for one as the other: “the ways,"they are many and wide, but they meet ‘at one gate when all’s over.” +t A Difigult Remedy, From Life, 7 The sufferer“Do you think it would re- Heve my toothaché if I should hold a little liquor in my mouth?” His wife—‘It might, if you could do it.” ‘When the thermometer is melting in the shade—“Oh! But this is bully—it’s more coolin’ than fce cream, an’ makes me feel better’n pink lemonade does!"—Life. “FIGURES DON’T LIE.” LY JOHN HABBERTON. (Copyright, 1895.) “Figures don’t He,"" exclaimed Clay Wil- murth one morning late in May, as he met bis friend Jeff Rapps coming down to the saw mill to fish from the log platform. Then Clay held before Jeff's face a broad shingle covered with figures, so that it looked like an awful sum in arithmetic and charcoal. “Well,” said Jeff, who wasn’t prepared for any such statemert, and who hated arithmetic with all his heart, “I didn’t say that they did. What are you driving at, and how are the fish biting?” “The fish aren't biting at all,” was the reply, “for there’s been a tremendous rain up the river somewhere and the water's awful muddy; the river’s risen about two feet since last night, so Mr. Drewell, the owner of the sawmill, says. That's what all my figuring is about, The freshet up above, wherever it was, has floated a lot of sawlogs out of the little creeks, where the lumbermen dropped them, and I saw a man catch one just now and he towed it into the mill and Mr. Drewell paid him a dollar and a quarter, and said he wished he'd bring him a lot more, for the mill is awfully short of sawing stuff. And—" here Clay again brandished the figure-cov- ered shingle before Jeff’s eyes, “as I said before, figures don’t lie.” “What's figures got to do with sawlogs?” asked Jeff. “A great deal, in this case. I timed the man who gold Mr. Drewell that log, from the time he started from shore until he came back and got his money, and it was only thirteen minutes—call it a quarter of an hour. Well, that means four logs an hour, which means $5 2n hour. There'll be be six hours between now and supper time and six times five are thirty—that means $15 aplece for you and me, if we keep at work, for the river is so full of logs we couldn't miss them if we tried.” “Fifteen—dollars—apiece! For two boys? Oh, it isn’t possible,” gasped Jeff. “Very well, stick to it, if you like, but there’s the figures on the shingle, go over them for yourself. Figures don’t lie.” . Jeff went over the figures, and as they were the simplest of multiplication he was obliged to tay that there was nothing out of the way with them. “There's only one thing that troubles me,” said Clay, “and that is that we must raise a quarter In some way to hire a boat, for I've heen all along the river for half a mile each way, snd all the skiffs are lock- ed. Nobody seems to think that once in a while a boy would like to go out rowing. But suppose we take an hour off of the fig- ures, so that we can have time to raise the quarter and find some ore who will rent his bost. That'll bring the profits down to $12 apiece; but that ought to do for one after- noon, don’t you think so?” “Don't I, though!” Jeff replied. Twelve dollars? Why, that was more money than he ever made in a whole blackherry season, although sometimes he picked and sold ten quarts a day, and his mother, who was the principal purchaser during the preserving seascn, satisfied herself with short meas- ure for the sake of encouraging her only son to work at something, if it was only berry picking, rather than spend his whole time fishing and thereby preparing himself to be a village lounger and a telier of im- probable fish stories. Twelve dollars? Why, Deacon Swift, the shrewdest old fellow in the village, was satisfied to make less than twelve dollars cn a horse trade, although sometimes he didn’t average a trade a month. “Take care of my rod end line,” said Jeff. “I’ve three chickens that I can get a quarter for, and I know just who wants them. You're sure the logs won't all get away while I'm gone—and that the water is really too muddy for fishing?" “Oh, hurry along!” exclaimed Clay, im- patiently. “You'll never make a busine: man if you don’t give your whole attention to a good chance when you see it. That's what my father says, and I guess he knows. I'll take care of the shingle while you're gone, and I'll go over the figures again, to see what fractions we can make above twelve dollars, in case you're back sooner than you expect; I'll work it up by quarter hours.” Jeff was back within. half an hour, with the quarter, a pair of oars, the key to a boat chain, d also with his mother’s en- tire clothes line, which, he explained, he thought would be handy to use as a tow- line for the logs. In the meantime Clay had begwed several big nails from the en- gineer of the sawmill, and he had borrowed, without asking, an ax from a woodpile not far away, to drive the nails into logs, so as to have something to tie the rope to. He had also got several new, clean and very broad shingles and a big plece of charcoal, so as to do some extra ciphering in the boat, in case they were to catch logs more rapidly than his original plan proyided for. “Now,” said he, as he took the oars and pulled the boat from shore, “we'll work as close as possible to the mill, so as to have the least distance in which to tow the logs when we catch them. But say, why do you suppose nobody but us-thought of this job? I suppose it is because nobody knows yet that the river has taken a sudden boom.” The boys found that if the logs had not waited for them there had been a lot of other logs floating down, so that the river was quite full enough to busy a dozen boat loads of boys. Loggers had been at work all winter on the banks of the river's many little ‘tributaries, expecting to float their lumber to market on the customary “June freshet,” but the rains had come unexpectedly early and sent their logs adrift. It seemed a great pity to Jeff, for he had @ conscience somewhere under his jacket, and he knew some logger families, and he knew also that such of the men who had been cutting for thelr own ac- count would lose a lot of money if all of thelr property went astray; so he said to Clay: cd wonder whether it’s right for us to take what other men have lost, and pocket the money ourselves?” Findings is keepings,” Clay replied. “Say, aren’t you losing the chance to catch a log?” “ Jeff gave his conscience a rest for a moment, as Clay pulled the boat beside a big log which was drifting along as rap- idly and carelessly as if it hadn’t an owner on the face of the earth. “Make a slip-noose in the end of your rope—quick,” said Clay. “That's right. Now drive one of the nails in the end of the log, and throw the loop over it, and /draw it tight.” Jeff obeyed orders, so far as he could, but as he held a nail in place and attempt- ed to hit the head of it with the ax he hit his finger and thumb instead, and then he yelled “Ouch,” and put his finger and thumb into his mouth, and looked Ike a boy having a tooth pulled, while the log slipped away down stream, giving the boat an ugly lurch as it scraped along the side. “You're a nice one “ shouted Clay, who had been resting on his oars and looking on, “Come here and row, and let me show you how_to ich a log.” Jeff obeyed; not so inuch that he wanted to learn as that he had done erough log catching to last him for the day. Still, he laid the boat alongside of another log, and Clay took nail and ax in hand, first plac- ing the rcpe with slip-noose just where he could handle it quickly. A saw log afloat ina rising river looks as quiet ard business-like as a boy who is going out melon stealing; it moves along silently ond swiftly, not disturbing any one, but intent only on going its way. It is Ligger, though, than a boy—much big- ger, being thirteen or fourteen feet long and from one to three feet through the chest, so to speak, exclusive of its clothes, which are very slippery after it has been in the water a few hours and has rolled from side to side to accommodate Itself to circumstances. The first log which Clay tackled Icoked as innocent as a big post that had faller asleep while taking a bath, but no sooner did Clay press the point of the nall into its bark than it rolled sidewise toward him, and acted as if it wanted to get into the boat and argue the matter. Clay lost a bad word, but he did not in- tend to lose that log, so he waited until the log came to its senses; then he in- serted the point of the nail in a deep crevice of the bark and struck a vigorcus blow with the ax. The nail went to its place in fine shape; so did the ax—that is, if the bottom of the river was the place it was aiming at. “Confound it!” exclaimed Clay. “That ax, if the owner misses it, will cost as much as we will get for the log.” Then he tcok a clean shingle and a bit of sharcoal and said, as he began figuring,,“We may as well charge it to profit and loss while we have it in mind.” “Better charge the log to profit and loss, we sald Jeff, “for it’s slid away, nail side lown.” Clay looked, but did not say anything, which was about as well, In the circum- tances; then he did some hard thirking, after which he took off one of his shoes, Terribly Afflicted. A headache is a common ailment with everybody, but very few people are tortured with that terrible aMiction—sick herdache or billows headache. No | ‘one who bas not suffered from this agonizing mal- ady can form any just conception of the almost un- endurabie pain in the bead, extreme nausea of the stomach and utter exhaustion of the body that usu- ally accompanies each attack. Mrs, John W. Mid- diebrook of Hillsdale, Ind., was so afflicted for years, and her busband told a reporter the foliow- ing remarkable story : “My wife suffered terribly four or five years with her head and was in constant agony day and night. Nothing bronght relief. Finally a fads friend in seater recommended Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills, bought a box and my wife began taking the pills. She had not taken the first hor until she was! bet: ter and those awful pains in ber head were less severe, By the time the first box was entirely Bene she felt greatly relieved, and I purchased the second Lox. Her improvement continued, and I Kept buying pills unti) four boxes were used. ‘The pain in her head stopped. That was last October, ‘4, and she has never suffered with her head pa ae — ee & years old and very le, hese pHls have greatly bene health in other x Js ee ae fhe reporter further confirmed the story by talk- ing to the old lady. Her face lighted "op with a saille when be nientionsd Dr. Williams’ Pink Pils a Joyous tear sparkled in her ey: 7 marked: ‘That pain is all gone.” Se eee: je, That there is virtue In these pills ts evident from the fact that Charles Kirtz, the Montezuma drog- gist. reports that he sells more of them than any PUl'in the house, ¥ Pills for Pale People are Dr. Williams’ Pink considered an unfailing specific for such diseases as locomotor atuxia, partial paralysis, St. Vitus dance, sciatica, neuralgia, Sheumatiem, — headache, the after effects of la grippe, palpitation of the rt, pale and sallow complex that ing resulting from nervous prostration, all diseases resulting from vitiated humo: blowd, ‘such as. scrofala, ‘chronic errsipelag, coe They are also a specific for troubles peculiar to fematex, such as ‘suppressions, irregularities, and all formis of weakness, In men they effect a’ radi- cal care In all cases arising from mental worry, OXerwork or excesses of whatever nature. Kk Pills are sold by all dealers or will be sent post id on receipt of price (50 cents 2 bor, or six xes for $2.50) by address Wi ’ z Areas py, tddressing Dr. Williams’ Medi: saying that by the use of enough muscle a smart blow of the heel ought to aes nail deep enough into a log to hold. So Jeff laid the boat alongside of a fine, big fellow, and Clay really cauzht it and got a nail jnto it, and got the slip-knot over it, and then told Jeff to puil for the shore. Jeff tried to obey orders, but the boys had not noted until then that the current had carried them so far down stream that they were about half a mile below the sawmill, and were’going further at a rate that was mcre rapid than pleasing. “Pull harder! Head more up stream shouted Clay. Jeff tried, but the best he could do was to run a race with the trees on the bank and see that the trees were beating him siowly, but oh, so steadily. “Give me the oars,” said Clay, moving forward. Jeff obeyed in haste, but !t made no difference with the boat, and soon Clay had to gasp: “We'll get it—ashore whsrever—we can, and—drag it up through—the slack wuter— afterward.” The log finally consented to be tied to a tree on the bank, and the boys pulled up stream about a mile, so that the next prize would not have to be dragzed against the cur.ent. About this time Jeff looked ashore at the clock in ‘he court house dome and drawled: “Say, we've been out exactly an hour, and haven't got anything to the mill yet, and we've lost an ax. Suppose we figure it out and find out how much money we've raade.”” ‘ “I don’t believe you've got enough spirit to keep a mouse alive tn a cheese factory,” replied Clay, giving the shingle a vicious kick, unfortunately with the foot from which he had taken hits shoe; then there Was a moment of profound and eloquent silence. Still, there were other logs in the river, and soon the boys got one of them in tow and landed it just above the mill, where they. tied it to a stake In the bank to awalt company of its own kind; they also got a big stone with which to drive nails into the logs, for the heel of Clay’s shoe had ob- jected to being used as a hammer head, and to save itself further battering it had come off. Still, the boys picked up two logs in the next twenty minutes, by pulling up stream for them and letting the current help them on the shpreward pull. Even with this assistance the work was very hard, fg a tree trunk weighing neayy a ton doesn’t ch. its course and its Meas of “right of way” without a heavy, sullen, ugly protest. One by one, however, the boys landed three big fellows, and then they took a rest so that Clay could cipher out the profits. Just as he laid down the ee now covered with figures, Jeff id: “You'll have to make allowance for the price of a new cloth2s line for my mother, or I'll have to get a whipping, for I've had to cut off three or four yards of it each time to tie up the logs we've brought in.” “We needn't take account of any such small item as that until we get our pay,” said Clay. “We'll have to get some of the pay pret- ‘y soon, then, for there's only about enough rope left for one more log,” Jeff continued, “so we'll hav. to knock off work long enough to buy another.” “We'll borrow a rope at the mill,” said Clay, “but let’s catch another one first.” Off they went and fortune seemed to go with them, for soon they struck two logs bound together at one end by a bit of grapevine. They were so near shore, too, and looked so like a raft that Clay could not resist the temptation of boarding them and raising a cheerful howl, as he had read of privateers doing when finally they stood upon the deck of a prize. He did it in good style, too, giving one foot to each log, very much as if they were circus horses and he was to ride the two at once. Perhaps he had forgotten that the one sh3e which he still wore was very wet, as, at any rate, Jeff suddanly heard a large splash, and when he leoked around the two logs hai separated in V shape and between the logs of the V were the head and the hat*of Clay, although both were not on the same p&art of the water. For a moment or two it appeared that an able- bodied boy was to be made into jam, but Clay finally dived under one of the logs and got to its outer side, where he tried to hold on, but the log kept turning in the water and Clay kept changing his hold and began to set tired, while the log look- ed and acted as if it was having fun and vould like to keep it up all day. Finally he got to the end of it and the log was merciful and allowed him to get into the beat, but by this time they were almost a mile down the river once more, and as Clay picked the bits of bark from under his finger nails he said there were enough of them to kindle a fire, if they were dry. “Let's get back to what we've caught, drop down the current with them to the mill and sell them; then I'll get you to help me to wring out my clothes.” So they towed their entire catch down to the mill, and Mr. Drewell, the mill owner, came and looked at the ends, and said: “I can’t buy those. Don’t you see the owners’ marks stamped in the wood at the ends? Those men could for buying stolen property. “Oh, how I'll catch it for cutting up that clothes line,” groaned Jeff. “Why,” said Clay, “I saw you buy a log from another man two or three hours ago.” “Ah, yes, but that had no marks, so no. one could prove property. That's the cut- ter’s fault, and I’m sorry for him; still, if you can find any more logs of that same Kind I shall be glad to buy them.” “But what becomes of the marked logs,” asked Clay, “if the owner doesn’t take care of them, and they get adrift? “Any one who catches them can get pay for his labor, if he can prove the time he spent,” was the reply. “Send the owner of these logs to me; I’ve seen you fooling about the water here for two or three hours, and I’ll say that you ought to have— let me s@e; well, about fifty cents for your trouble.” “Just the price of a new clothes line for mother,” said Jeff. Clay, who had brought the shingle and the piece of charcoal from the boat so as to make up the accounts promptly, looked at that shingle for just a mcment, and then he “‘skittered” that innocent slip of wood so vigorously that it went about fifty yards away and into the river, where it fell face upward, and the black marks on it seemed. so many faces that were making fun of Clay as they meandered along with the current. When the mill owner came to understand the situation, his heart got down to his pocket, for he had been a boy himself, so he advanced the boys fifty cents on salvage account of the logs they had caught, and he sent Clay down to the engine room to be dried. When finally the boys walked homeward, Jeff drawled: “You said that figures don’t le.” “IT take it back,” said Clay. “They le worse than a circus poster, or a man that’s been out fishing and had nobody see him till his fish have been cooked and eaten.” el RAILROADS. % BALTIMORE AND OUIO RAILROAD. Schedule in effect Jujy 12, 1605. Leave Washington from st corner of New Jersey avenue and C street. Northwest, Vestibuied Lim! trains, 11590 a.m, 8°30 pte - ty ‘Louis and Louisville, inatt 45 For Pittsborg and aa. and 9:10 peg 11:30 ‘or Lexington, taunt 230, a. Kor Winchester and way stat For Luray, Natural Bt Chattanooga, “Memphis New Orleans, 11: geen oy Fo ‘, 2:45 p.m. daily. or Baltimore, ‘week days, 14:85, 5:00, 6:35, 7. XT:10, | x8:06, x8:25. 28:30, x9:30, 10:00, 15, * 1: OD, 43: 80, 'x8:00, polats, B and in! 100, 84:38, e083, inction and way points, ***9:00, 3 p.m. Express trains’ stopping 25, 30, °5:30 p.m. A E FOR Ny PHILADELPHIA, AN trains {iuminated with Pintech light. For Philadelphia. New York, Boston and the East, week dayx (4:55 Dining Car), Dining 3 K ning Car), 11:30 (12: &: Dining Car), 8:00 p.m ping Car, ay at oe eee 4:55 Dining Car), (7:00 Dining Car), (9% Beg A Saale ese as for passengers 10:00 - ngers 10: a apd. 14:30 a.m., 18:20 p.m. Suntays “8 10:00 an, oul), t aeenge called for nnd \dences by Union Transfer Co. op orders left ticket offices, 619 zane arene Soca New York svenie and Fifteenth street, aod RD. CAMPRELE: Gen Mamagers Syd PENNSYLVANTA RAILROAD. Station corner of 6th and B streets. In effect June 28, 1895. 10:30 A.M. PENNSYLVANIA LIMITED.—Puilman Sleeping, Dining, ‘and Observation Cars Harrisbar + ? to jocinnat Hove igctand and outa Butt Marat "LINE.—Pullman Buffet Parlor Parlor and Dining Cars, Har- tf : GO-AND ST. LOUIS llman Buttet Parlor Gar to arise Sey ing and ising ‘Cars, Harrisburg to Rochester, and A. for Elmira and Renovo, daily, except Sunday. For Williamsport dai! 3:40 MN. 7:0 P.M. for Willis Hochester, Batfalo, and Niagara Falls daily, except Saturday, with a fat Washington to Suspension’ Bridge 10:40 P.M. for falo, and Niaga: ingt to Ein o. ‘M. for Kane, Cananda! agora Falls daily, 20 AA, Elmira aod J Canandaigua, Rochester, Buf- ra. ‘daily, Sleeping Car Wash- ra. hin, New 26, P 340, and 11:35 For Pope's Creck Line, 7:20 A.M. ant 4:38 P.M. sp except Sunday. For Annapolis, “7:20, 9:00 A.M,. 12:15 and 4:20 P.M, dally, ‘except Sanday. Sundays, 9:00 AM. Atlantic Coast Line, for Richmond, Jack- sonville and T: a MM. daily. Richmond ‘and Atis AO ‘esily, Sick tis 5 mond only, 10:57 A.M. week-days. Accommodation it 7:45 AM. daily, and 125 POL wet ~ For Alexanaria, on Alexandria, M. PREVOST, . R. WOOD, — Manager. General Famsenser Agent. SOUTHERN RAILWAY. (Piedmont Atr Line.) Srhedule In effect July 28, 1895. 45 P.M. '—Local for Charlott 10:43 P.M.—Dafly—WASHINGTON AND WESTERN VESTI LIMITED, Pullman Vestibuled Sl-epers and Di a Montgomeys, and New Yi via Charictte, ‘Colambin and Jackeonritis, ‘ashington to Atlanta. Dining Car to Tampa Vestbuled Car Co- Day Coach 5 Parlor lumbia to ~ CHESAPEAKE AND OHIO RAILWAY. Schedule in effect July 1, 1895. ‘Trains leave dafly from Union Station (B. and P.), 6th aud B sts. ‘Through the grandest scenery In America, with the ha est and most complete solid train serv- ice west from Washington. 2:25 P.M. DAILY.—“Cinclanatl and St. Louls Special”’—Solid Vestituled, Newly Equipped, Elec- tric-lighted, Steam-heated’ Train. Pullman's finest siceping cars Washington to Louisville, Cincianati, Indianapolis and St. Louis without change. Dit from Washington. scimnatt . Arrive Cin 11:30 od ‘a.m.; Indianapolis, and Chicago, -m.; St. roe 6: Lexington, 8:35 a.m.; uisville, 11:50 11:10 P.M. DAILY.—The famous “F.F.V. Lim- A solid vestibuled train, with dining car innatl, Lexington and and Poilman rs for Ch Louisville without change. i Sleeper Wash- ington to Virginia Hot “Springs, without change, Week days. rvation ear Hinton. Arrive Cincinnatf, 5:50 p.m.; Lexington, 6:00 p.m.; Louls- ville, 9:40 Indianapolis, 11:05 p.m.; Chicago, 7:80 and'St. Louis, 7:20 a.m.; in Union Depot for ali - 357 AM., EX! SUNDAY.—For Old Point Comfort and Norfolk. Only rail Hine. |” 22 -M. DAILY.—Express for Gi le, Charlottesville, Waynesboro’, Staunton and A pal Virgin'a points, daily; for Richmond, daily, ex- cept Sunday. man locations and tickets at company’s of- fices, 518 and 1421 Penneslvania s avenue. ”. FU) mh4 General Fassenger Agent. a eee CHIROPODISTS. PAINFUL BUNIONS, CORNS, ENLARGED JOIN Ingrowing ‘and club uatix instantly relleved a cred without pain or soretess afterwa: rodest 8. Prof. J.J. GEORGES & SON, 1115 Pa, ave. nw. 8 to 5 SESE CES Petia’ at fi UNDERTAKERS W. R. Speare, Undertaker & Embalmer 040 F Btreet Northwest. strict first-class and fs Petepbone eal Sa. jase ATTORNEYS. is prematarely old when baldness occurs forty-fifth year. Use Hall's liair Re- Keep the scaip healthy and prevent A person before the newer to baldness. CAMPBELL CARRINGTON, Webster Lay atiaing, eos Dek ‘Washi wr 4 st. BW. ton, D.C. Residence, 500 L n.w. a3"