Evening Star Newspaper, August 24, 1895, Page 14

14 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 24, 1895-TWENTY PAGES, GOV. M’KINLEY TALKS Frank Carpenter Interviews Him’at His Home in Columbus. POLITICS AND THE PRACTICE OF LAW ee A Few Words About the Tariff and the Political Outlook. THE COMING CAMPAIGN ——_+___ (Copyrighted, 1895, by Frank G. Carpenter.) COLUMBUS, Ohio, August 22, 1895. OV. McKINLEY IS ‘ a queer presidential candidate. I have come from Wash- ington to Columbus to see what he Is do- ing to make himself President of the United States. Every one knows he is to = be one of the lead- ing candidates be- fore the republican national convention. Ohio has declared herself for him, and McKinley clubs are being formed all over the Union. Colum- bus ought to be the headquarters of the campaign, and I expected to find a literary bureau at work here. There is nothing of the kind. The state house is as torpid as @ snake in midwinter, and the governor ap- parently shows no moro interest in wire- pulling than though he were the chief ex- ecutive of one of the poorest territories of the west. He is not doing a stroke to help along the movement, and he refuses to say &@ word upon national politics for publica- tion. He will not talk about the presi- dency, and he says his ideas on public questions are so well kncwn that it is use- less for him to make any statement as to the probable platform. 5 Some of McKinIcy’s Characteristics, I have known Gov. McKinley for years. He {s ore of the most modest men in pub- lic life. He seems to shun newspaper no- torlety and Is averse to talking about him- self. Up to the present time he has sys- tematically refused to give anything of this character to the newspapers, and my talk with him only came through my long fcquaintance and upon the promise that I would be moderate in my expressions. I spent scme time with him in his office at the state house. He is easier to get at than any geverrment clerk in Washington. There is no red tape about his establish- ment. You walk threvgh the rotunda, down one kall and up another-and pass In- to the ante-room where bis private secre- taries work. If the governor is disengaged these direct you to go right in, and you who is now perhaps tho Most talked-of man in the United States, seated at a big, flat desk in a mahogany chair, with a pile of letters and telegrams before him. His private secretary may be on the opposite side of the desk, but 2s a usual thing you will find him alone, and if you have ever met him before he will be gure to recognize you. He has a phenom- enal memory, and he seldom forgets a name or a face. He puts you at once at our ease, and evidently does not consider imself to be any better or greater than you are. He is democratic in his feelings and actions, and he is a good, healthy gpecimen of commonplace humanity. He is a man of the people, and he believes in the people and can sympathize with them. He is a guod talker and can tell a good story, tho.gh he never uses anecdotes up- on the stump. As you talk with him you find tha: he has a humorcus side to his nature, and he can lavgh like a youn Bacchus. He has a religlous stde also, an; he never says anything against religion, even in Jest. He is a member of the Meth- odist Church, but I do not think he is a doctrinal Methodist, and he has his jokes now and then at the expense of his friends who belong to other denominations. One of his stories, for instance, gives the rea- son why a prominent politician could not become a Baptist. It was because he could not bear to undergo lrmersion, as he could rot stand being out of public view for any length of time, and arother was as to the Scotch Presbyterian who was noted for keeping the Sabbath and everything else he could ley his hands cn. His Domestic Relations. Gov. McKinley has an immense corre- spondence, and the,electri> wires are kept hot with the business of his position. He Gispatches his work quickly, dictating the answers to his letters rapidly, and seldom stopping for a word or an idea. He walks up and down smoking a cigar as he dic- tates. Tobacco, in fact, 1s his only vice. He never drinks, and consequently is free from that fault which the man excepted when he spoke of having « perfect wife. You may have heard the story. The man remarked: “There is only one trouble about my wife! She will swear when she gets d@runk!"" Well, McKinley never drinks, and he never swears. His closest friends tell me they have never heard him iell a story, nor utter an expression which could not be re- peated in the presence of ladies. He is fond of the soclety of ladies, and there fs no more devoted husband in the United States than he. His wife has been an In- valid for the past twenty years, and he has devoted all his spare time to lations which the two sustai Other are most beautiful. Mrs, McKinley thinks there is no man in the world equal to her husband. She has an oil painting of him so hung that it will he the first thing she sees when she awakes in the morning, and she never tires of talking about him. She has grown much better within recent years, and she {s now almost well. She is a beautiful woman, and a very bright one intellectually. She is very anxious that the governor should retire from politics, and she told me that she hoped she could induce him to do so upon the anniversary of their silver wedding, which will occur next January. The two live very comfortably at the Weill House in Columbus, the governor w k and forth to his work at the house, which is just across the way. He Does Not Talk for Pay. The governor's life, in fact, is quiet, reg- ular and comparatively uneventful. He is attending to the duties of his office, end now and then going off to make a speech in different parts of the United States. It is wonderful how many demaads there are upon him for speaking. He receives sccres of requests every week, and many of these gre accompanied with offers of money. Just the other day he received a letter from Boston stating that the writer would give him $500 if he would deliver a specch there. He replied that he could not go, whereupon the man sent a second letter stating that if the money offer was not enough he would make it twice the five hundred and his expenses. Gov. McKinley, however, does not believe in speaking for money. He looks upon his speaking some- Iking bi state thing as Tolstol does upon hts writings, and he has never accepted a dollar for any of his public utterances. He is a peculiar fellow in his ideas of right, and his views upon this question of public speaking came out this afternoon, upon my telling him that I thought he ought to make a good thing out of his speeches, and that I knew other men who were increasing their in- come in this way. Before he had replied I asked him what he got for a speech, and he then tcld me that he had never re- ceived a cent for such work. During my talk with him today I asked him how he prepared his speeches. He replied: “When I have an important speech to make it absorbs me. It is hard work, and it takes all there is in me. I go over the subject again and again in all its phases in my mind. I read all I can get hold of upon it, and the speech gradually grows until it is ready for delivery. If it is one that has to be given to the press, I dictate it to my stenographer and see that the copy is giv- en out beforehand. This clarifies my thought, and theugh I seldom make exact- ly the same speech that I have dictated, it is substantially the same.” “Do you like to speak? “No, I do not,” replied Gov. McKinley, emphatically. “I dread it. My heart goes down into my boots whenever I get up be- fore an audience, and I trmeble until I have begun to talk. This is always so, and still I have been making speeches for twenty-three years.” “Do you remember speech?” I asked. “Yes, indeed; very ll,” replied the gov- ernor, with a laugh. “It was upon my re- turn home with the troops at the close of the war. I lived in the little village of Poland, near Youngstown, and a reception was given in honor of the soldiers. One of the judges of the county made the welcom- ing speech, and I was chosen to give the a I was then just twenty-one years old.” How McKinley Became a Soldier. “How old were you when you went into the army, governor?” I asked. was the reply. “I was acting as a country school teacher at the time the war broke out. My fat ‘was anxious to give me a good education. He moved with his family to the little town of Poland, in order that I might go into the academy there, and when [I was about fifteen or sixteen he sent me to the Allegheny College at Meadville, Pa. I fell sick there and had to come home. When I became better I took up teaching and got a country school near Poland. This I left to go to the army.” “By the “way, governor, what did they pay ycu for teaching?” “My wages were, I think, $25 a month, and I boarded around. My parents, how- ever, lived only three miles. from the school house, and the most of the time I stayed with them and walked to the school and back every day. Six miles would be a big walk for me row, I suppose, but it did not seem much then. “Well, while I was teaching,” continued Gov. McKinley, “Fort Sumter was fired on, and eyery one was wild to go to the war. A conkpany was formed in Poland, and I enlist/d. Gen. John C. Fremont inspected end faustered in the company. He exam- ined me. I was then very slight, not much bigger than you are. Gen. Fremont, I re- member, seemed a great man to me, a boy of seventeen, whose mind had been thrilled with the story of his wonderful adventures in the west. I remember he pounded my chest and looked square into my eyes, and finally pronounced me fit for a soldier.” “In what regiment were you, fovernor?” My first service was in the twenty-third Ohio, and I remained in that regiment throughout the war.” A Modest Soldier. What was your rank when you entered?” “It was that of a private,” replied Major McKinley. “The first colonel of my regi- ment wag.Rosecrans, who afterward be- came general. Our lieutenant-colonel was Stanley Matthews,afterwards United States Senator and justice of the Supreme Court, and our major was Rutherford B. Hayes, who was to become a general and after- wards to serve as governor of Ohio and as President of the United States,” “It was a remarkable regiment, wasn’t 2 “said I “Yes,” replied the governor, “and the great body of the regiment was worthy of the great commanders. “I remained a private for over a year. I was then promoted to be sergeant of the company. This was after the battle of An- tietam. Rutherford B. Hayes—he had be- come colonel—brought me my commission, and later on I served on the staffs of Gen. Hayes, Maj. Gen. Crook and Maj. Gen. Harceck. In 1864 I was mads a major by brevet by President Lincoln.” “How did you like military life, gov- error?” “Very much, Indeed, was the reply. “I wanted to remain in the army. My friends among the officers urged me to do so, and I would probably be in the military service today if my father and mother had not se- tiously objected. Somehow or other, they did not think much of my being jn the army in the time of peace. The result was that I came home and studied law. I went to a law school at Albany, and then hung out my shingle in Canton, as a young prac- titfoner. I continued to practice law until I was elected to Congress.” “How did you get into politics?” “My first office was that of prosecuting attorney. My friends made me a candi- date in 1869. I was elected and served for two years. After that I practiced law un- til 1876, at which time I was nominated for Congress. I was not anxious to be the candidete at that time. I thought I Was too young to go into politics. I had a gocd business, and I was not well enough off to enter public life. Still, I was nomi- fated and elected by a large majority. “How long did you remain in Con- gress “I served in the House for fourteen years, and was then elected governor of Ohio.” How He Became a Protectionist. “Governor McKinley, you are the great apostle of protection in the United States. How did you come to make the tariff a life work?” “I don't know when I was not interest- ed in the tariff," replied Governor McKin- ley. “I was brought up, as it were, on protection. My boyhood was spent in an fron manufacturing district, and among miners, and Canton, where I went to live, is a center of great manufacturing indus- tries. The first speech I made in Con- gress was in favor of a protective tariff. It was against Fernando Wood's tariff bil in 1878. As I went on in my study of the question, I became more and more convinced that this was the best way to raise our revenues, and at the same time to support our industries. The tariff will al- ways be a live question.” A Permanent Tariff. “What do you think of the idea of a constitutional amendment prohibiting the changing of the tariff within a limited pe- riod, say, five or ten years?” “I don't believe that such a thing would be advisable. The changes of conditions might make such an arrangement work great injury, and besides, Congress is the law-making power, and I do not think it would be wise to make this restriction.” “Did the McKinley bill have the effect upon the business of the American people that you expected?” “Yes; the anticipated effect of the tariff law of 1890 was realized. It was not as fully realized, perhaps, as it would have been had it not been for the change of administration which occurred when it was but two years old. It protected American industries. It started the tin-plate factor- jes, and all agree that they are here to stay “Referring to your question as to pro- hibiting the changing of the tariff within a_limited period,” the governor went on, “I do not think that the American people would approve of such an act. They want to be let alone, it is true, but they do not want that which is bad and injurious to the country to be allowed to remain. We have got to adjust ters to the present tariff as well as we an until we can change it. We can have no hope of doing this for two years to come, but I believe there will be a change in the future to meet the requirements of the treasury and to promote our industrial development. I think our people believe in protection and reciprocity. There is no doubt that we can produce our own sugar, make our own tin plate and other things which we are now importing from abroad. I believe we should do our work at home, as far as possible, and that with a protec- tive tariff we will have better times and @ permanent prosperity.” “What is the condition of the republican party today, governor? Is it alive, dead or dying?” your first public it “It has never been in a more hy and vital condition than it is today, plied Governor McKinley. “There will be no split in our party in the coming cam- ign. iD FRANK G. CARPENTER. A MYSTERIOUS CAS The Holmes Murders Equaled in California. TWO STRANGE DEATHS The Conflicting Testimony Brought Out by Both Sides. TWO SUSPECTS ACQUITTED Written for The Evening Star. The Holmes murder case, with its almost @aily discovery of old bones and develop- ment of new horrors, is, perhaps, receiving a larger share of the public attention than any other passing event. It 1s almost com- monplace, however, wnen compared with a case which it has served to revive in the memory of the writer. As in the Holmes case, the greed for insurance money led to the commission of the crime, but here all resemblance ceases. Some time in the seventies one J. Milton Bowers arrived in the city of San Francisco from the east and hung out his shingle as @ doctor of medicine. He soon established @ large and lucrative business by accepting that class of cases which all reputable Physicians decline, and being a shrewd, calculating, well-educated man, succeeded in keeping out of the meshes of the law. In due course of time he married Cecilia Benhayon, a young woman. The marriage was not a happy one, however, Bowers be- ing tyrannical and often brutal. Several years passed away, when Mrs. Bowers was seized with a lingering illness, which re- sulted fatally. A certificate of death was made out In proper form and the body in- terred. There was an insurance of over $20,000 on her life, end this, together with the unsavory character of the doctor, led to an investigation, which culminated about four weeks after her death in the issuance of an order for the exhumation of the body. A commission of ethree physicians examined the stomach, with the result that two of them declared they found traces of arsenical poison sufficient to have caused her death. The third one agreed as to the presence. of arsenic in the stomach, but was not willing to ascribe it as the cause of death. Bowers was then arrested on a charge of murder. Circumstantial Evidence. By the time the case was ready for trial the police had succeeded in forging a strong chain of circumstantial evidence around the dcctor. It was developed that he had been married twice before; that the lives of both previous wives had been in- sured, and that both wives had died in somewhat the same manner as the last one. Contrary to the usual custom of phy- sicians when one of their family is sick, he had refused to call any one in for consul- tation, and had compounded all the pre- scriptions himself. The most important witness against him was Alexander Ben- heyon, his brother-in-law, who identified a bottle of medicine which had been found to’ contain polson as one from which potions for his sister were taken. During the course of the trial Bowers proved himself in many respects a remarkable man. He directed the tactics of the defense, and during his long, exhaustive examination while on the stand talked as an ordinary man would at the breakfast table. He re- ceived the verdict of guilty with the same imperturbable calmness which characterized him through the trial. If he ever felt any on his sphinx-like face did not show The trial over, Bower# was sentenced to be hanged. His attorneys, after exhaust- ing all legal devices in the effort to secure a new trial, as a dernier resort, appealed to the supreme court of the state. A Mysterious Confession. Over a year had passed. Bowers was in his cell in the county jail awaiting the verdict which would determine his fate, and the people of California had almost for- gotten all about him, when, one day, In- formation reached police headquarters that a man had been found dead in a lodging house on Post street between Kearney and Grant avenue. The man was Aleck Ben- hayon. By his side was a bottle partially filled with cyanide of potassium, and in his pocket was found what purported to be a confession. It consisted of several closely written pages and declared that he, and not Dr. Bowers, was the murderer of his sister; that some weeks before her death he had prevailed upon her’ to assign the insurance policies to him and had then slowly poi- soned her to death. In addition to this, it charged his sister with gross infidelity and gave the names of several men with whom she had been familiar. The reason as- cribed for his suicide was that two weeks before he had lost a diary in which he had carefully noted down all the details of his diabolical crime, and death was preferable to the torture from the fear of its dis- covery. It said that he had never used the assignment of the insurance policies be- cause he was afraid that it would direct suspicion toward him. This sensational discovery was coupled with the declaration of the landlady of the lodging house_that Benhayon was not the man who rented _the room from her. She said that some days before a young man had looked at the room and engaged it by paying the rent a week in advance. He stated that it was for a friend of his and that it would not be occupied for some days. He gave his occupation as a book agent, but did not leave his name. The Book Agent. In the course of a week the police found the mysterious young man in the person of one Dimmig. Dimmig was, as he had stated to the landlady, a book agent. He admitted the renting of the room and said he did so at the request of Benhayon, to whom he had given the key. He was one of the last men in the world one would be likely to suspect of such a crime; of ex- ceptionally jovial, happy-go-easy tempera- ment, he had enjoyed the world as he found it. Nothing criminal could be found in his past career, nor even anything bor- dering on criminality. Being an expert penman, he had made a living by card writing for a time, but most of his life had been a canvasser. He seemed to take his arrest as a joke and jauntily said that his release would only be a matter of a few days. Many months passed away, how- ever, before he was again at liberty. With- in a few days it was ascertained that Dim- mig bad married the former nurse of Mrs. Bowers. This was link number one which bound him to the condemned murderer; it was also ascertained that Mrs. Dim- mig had visited Mr. Bowers on a number of occasions in his cell, and brought him little dainties. Beyond this the police did not get. Dimmig himself had never met the dector but onze, and that was shcrtly after Bowers’ arrest. It must also be stated that Mrs. Dimmig was not the nurse at the time of Mrs. Bowers’ death. Held for Murder. Sufficient evidence was secured to justify the grand jury in returning a true bill against Dimmig for- murder. The theory ofthe prosecution wa3 that the plot was arranged through Mrs. Dimmig for the murder of Benhayon; that Dimmig wrote the confession; that on the night of Ben- hayon’s death_he inveigled him into the room in the Post street house, poisoned bim and then placed the confession on the body and the bottle of poison by its side. Against this theory the defense and those who believed in the innocence of Dimmig peinted out the lack of sufficient motive. What, they asked, could have inspired such a man to commit such a crime? Not money, for Bowers had spent his all in the trial. Not friendship, for he had never met the condemned man but once; not ermity, for his relations with Benhayon had always been amicable. What reward could a man with his neck almost in the halter—resting under the very shadow of grim death—have promised that could have beeh an inducement to any man, however desperate, however wicked, to commit such an act? Then, they pointed out the ab- surdity of the manner in which the crime was committed, if there was a_ crime. Would a man determined upon such a deed have rented a room in the third story of a lcdging hcuse inhabited by numerous ten- ants without doing anything to conceal his identity? Was it likely that he would rave run the risk of being seen—a very strong risk—while escorting his intended vietim to the room, or after he had done his deadly work and was leaving there? Absurd! Prepostercus! It must be stated that the police claimed that the entrance to the house was ‘matie through a rear and unused entrance, up @ back stairway. Conflicting; Testimony. On the trial all this-tnatter was brought out. In addition, teittinony was produced proving that Dimmig had purchased cyna- nide of potassium at a certain drug store, and that he had kept rented another room aside from the howse*which he occupied with his family, this robm also being down town. In rebuttal. ft was conclusively proved that Dimmig, hdd been using cyna- nide of potassium for years for a skin dis- ease, a sort of lupus. (He claimed that he kept the room down town rented for the purpose of meeting “lady” friends, whose names he steadily ‘refused to give. The theory of the prosecution was that the con- fession had been written in that room. Two experts testified that the confession was written by Benhayon; one that it was a forgery. There was a very dramatic scene when the latter was giving his testt- mony. He had been Illustrating on a black board the reasons way he came to the con- clusion that the confession was forged. Growing excited, he turned to the jury, and, holding the confession in his hand, said: “Why do I know it is forged? Be- cause the handwriting is dead; corpse. There 1s as much difference be- tween it and genuine as there is between a live man and a cadaver.” Both Men Released. The jury disagreed. A second trial was had, with the same result. It was a fore- gone conclusion that there must either be a disagreement or acquittal. The evidénce, strong as it was in some respects, was al- together insufficient to allow of a convic- tion. After the second trial the prosecution saw the futility of their efforts, and: after an incarceration of over a year Dimmig was set at liberty. The supreme court of the state had pur- posely postponed the consideration of the Bowers case. When, at last, they did con- sider it they were unwilling to take upon themselves the responsibility of sending him to his death. The decision of the lower court was reversed, and the cause remand- ed. The proceedings were then quashed, and Bowers walked out of the county jail a free man. The question as to whether Bowers killed his wife, or whether her brother killed her; as to whether Benhayon killed himself or Dimmig killed him; as to whether the con- fession was genuine or forged, will prob- ably never be solved. Bowers, Dimmig and Mrs. Dimmig hold the key to the mystery, but it is unlikely that either will ever un- jock it. = ee ee AN “R” THAT COST $5,841. Curious Verdict Against the Western Union Telegraph Compnny. From the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. The insertion of the letter “r” in the name of H. W. Baker promises to cost the Western Union Telegraph Company about $6,000. In the suit brought by Baker to re- cover $7,160, loss caused by the delivery of a dispatch from Australia to Abram Barker, a jury in the United States court yesterday returned @ verdict for plaintiff for $5,841.51, after deliberating about an hour. Judge Hanford instructed the jury that a tele- graph company was charged with the duty of exercising a high degree of care as to promptness, and that any neglect entitled the parties injured to damages. Baker's measure of damage was the amount he would have realized had he accepted a cable offer, less the amount he receiv. The defense moyed for a non-suit on the ground that the terms of the telegraph blank especially exempted the company from any damages either for mistake or delay, and also as the error was made in Australia by a connecting line, no re- sponsibility could attach, particularly as the cablegram was addressed “Barker,” and was actually, delivered to “Barker.” Mr. Lewis, for Baker, insisted that condl- tions in a telegraphic message exempting the company from losses could only apply to the sender,not tp one receiving the cable; also that, though. the error was made In Australia, the Western, Union was lable, as it contracted with the Australian com- pany as its agent, and that the mere fact that the message. was addressed “Barker” could not excuse the failure to deliver to Baker, where the, contents of the message could show it was for the commission mer- chant. The non-suit was refused. The case will probably be appealed. AN INSECT’S HOOF BEATS. Even the Trotting of a Little Fly Sounds Like Thunder. From the St. Louis Republic. x The improvements which WW. H. Soulby has lately added to the microphone, or “sound magnifier,” make it one of the most marvelous mechanical contrivances of the age. The special construction of this instrument is of no particular interest to any one except experts, but what is told of its wonderful powers as a magnifier of sounds will entertain the young and old, as well as the scientific and unscientific readers of “Notes for the Curious.” After the instrument had been completed with the exception of a few finishing touches, Soulby found it absolutely neces- sary to keep the door of his workshop tightly closed so as to admit no sounds from the outside, otherwise the inarticulate rumblings given off by the “ejector” would have become unbearable. Eyen with closed doors the cap had to be kept constantly in place on the receiver to keep the instru- ment from sending forth a roar, which pre- vious investigation had proved to be a com- bination of sounds produced by watch beats, breathing, the hum of flies, ete. ‘A fiy walking across the receiver of the instrument made a sound equal to a horse crossing a bridge, and when Mr. Soulby laid his arm across the box the blood rush- ing in-his veins gave forth a sound which much resembled that made by the pump of a large steam engine. The playing of a Yano in a house across the street was, when ejected from Soulby’s machine, like the roar of an avalanche, and the washing of dishes in the kitchen of a house across the alley made a sound which the inventor of the machine says was “a burden to his soul.” When anyone entered the room, walked about, coughed, touched the table or door handles, the shriek which issued from the ejector was most painful to hear. Hundreds of uses have been suggested for the microphone, the most practical be- ing those of blood circulation and lung tests. A ——_—_+e+____. Packing Fruit in Borax. From the San Francisco Examiner. Frank M. Smith, the borax king, believes that he has solved the problem of preserv- ing fresh fruit so it can be put on the eastern market in a satisfactory condition. For some time he has been experimenting with borax, and finds the ingredients of that salt peculiarly adapted for precluding vegetable decomposition. The discovery is the result of a sugges- tion made to Mr. Smith one day while lunching with a friend. The gentlemen were discussing, the success that had at- tended the experiment of boraxing fresh meat, when Mr. Smith was asked why he had never tried preserving fruit in the same way. He said jit had never occurred to him, but that afternoon he gave the sub- ject’ so much thought; that as soon as he returned to his»home.in East Oakland he packed several .pounds of cherries in a box of powdered borax. This box was placed in the cellar, and alongside of it he put a large glass dish, filled with the same kind of fruit. ‘Fhen ‘he awaited develop- ments. The next dayshe visited the cellar and found the cherries:in the dish were be- sinning to turn, In three days they were so decomposed jthat it; was necessary to throw them away. In order to make a good test he determined not to disturb the packed cherries. for three weeks. At the termination of that time the box was open- ed and the fruit. was found as fresh and in as good a condition as when first placed there. ——__—_+e+_______ Ready to Barter. From the Cincinnati Enquirer. “No,” said the gentleman who had come all the way from Plunkville to buy a small batch of green goods, “I didn’t bring no money with me; but I got a mighty fine gold brick here that I bought some eight months ago. The fellers I boughtgit uv tole nz not to sell it fer a year yet, but I guess I'll take the chances.” ——___—_---_. Not Quite the Same. From the Boston Transcript. Fogg says he received a letter the other day, and he had a strong presentiment that he would find a ten-dollar bill in it. When he opened it he found a bill for $10, which, he says, though not exactly the same thing, shows that his impression was not altogether astray. SS es THE PREACHER’S STORY. ‘WHY THINGS GO ASTRAY. A Prize Fight in Which the Strategy | A Study in Stupidity That is Founded of the Weaker Won. From the Chicago Dafly Tribune. A preacher told this story at a wedding supper on the South Side the other even- ing: “I was riding along a country road near Bloomington,” he said, “when I noticed a group of sheep in a pasture. There was a large, open space in the midst of the flock, and at either end of th> space’ stood two rams. In the center, but standing a little to one side, wag a third ram. The two rams had evidently had a falling out about some- thing or else they had come to settle in a friendly contest which was the better ram. Ram No. 3 seemed to be acting as— judge, umpire—what do you call it? Ref- eree? Yes, that’s it, the third ram was the referee. I dcn’t know under what rules the meeting took place; it -may have been Queensberry or Rosebery. You see, I am up to these technical matters. When all the preliminaries had been ar- ranged and both contestants had been cau- tioned, apparently, that there was to be no ‘fouling’—I think I have seen that word in. the newspapers occasionally, and therefore I suppose it is a ccrrect word to use in this connection—each backed off to the farthest limits of the circle, which, by the way, was not a squared circle. The referee stepped out of the way, and the rams dash- ed toward cach other. When their heads came together there was a terrific crash, and the force of the concussion threw them as far apart as the length of this table.” All the guests looked the full length of the table from the passioh flowers at one end to the bride’s cake in the far perspec- tive, and then at the preacher in the mid- @le distance, but nobody said anything. “Then,” continued the preacher, “they took their places, apparegtly none the worse for the encounter. Again, evidently at a preconcerted signal from the referee, they dashed together. This time the shock was even more terrific than the first, and I noticed that as one of them went hack to his—ah, what do they call it, corner?—he was a little unsteady on his legs.” “Groggy!” ventured the bride. “I believe that is the technical term,” re- plied the preacher, “although, as I have intimated, I am not at all familiar with sporting phraseology. When time was call- ed for the third round—ahem—that is—I mean to say when the rams had recovered strength for a third collision, there was another rush, a crash, and one of tite rams, the one you so aptly described as ‘groggy’ —with an acknowledgment to the bride— “fell to his knees. His adversary did not seem inclined to follow up his advantage, but possibly he may have been restrained by the rules of the meeting. At any rate, after contemplating his fallen foe gravely for a moment, he walked back to his place The other ram, after resting briefly, strug- gled to his feet. The third ram, the one I have called the referee, looked at him rather inquiringly, as it seemed to me, but the warrior showed no sign of recognition. He ambled to his side of the ring and faced about. A murmur of some sort seemed to go through the flock. The odds were ap- parently three to one in favor of the other ram; that is to say, it seerned to he the general opinion that the ram with the weak knees had been outclassed, as the other one was decidedly the heavier of the two. “However, the smaller ram seemed to have wonderful recuperative powers. When the proper interval kad elapsed he came up smiling, as it were. I even thought I could see a twinkle in his eye, for I was quite close to the fence, and this thing took place only a little distance away. As the referee stepped back from the center of the ring, where he kept his position between the meetings, the ther two rams drove at each other petl-mell. At the very instant when their hard horns would have met, however, the smaller ram suddenly changed his course to the right and the other went through the ranks ike a catapult. Just as he turned about, evidently boiling over with indignation at the trick which had been played on him, the other one, with the added force given by a longer run from one side of the circle to a point several feet outside of it, where the larger ram's momentum had carried him, shot at him like a cannon ball, striking him full in the face and driving him several f away, where he lay limp and helpless. The third ram, who was promptly on the spot, as I suppose every competent referee should be, nodded his head several times—indeed, it lcoked to me as if he was counting—and then, the fallen ram failing to rise, the whole flock marched away toward a knoli in another part of the meadow with the victorious rarh at the head. Presently the defeated ram got on his feet and made his y to a secluded spot down by a little run, where I saw him reclining in the shade of a large willow tree as I rode a os “What an interesting study natural his- tory is,” said the bride’s grandmother, as she adjusted her zlasses. “It is, indeed,’ satd the groom’s father, coughing behind his napkin. SOS His Baggage for a Joke. From the San Francisco Post. “Steamship passengers frequently resort to practical jokes to relieve the monotony of voyages,” yesterda: sald a retired sea captain “and while the pranks, as a rule, are perfectly harmless, they some- times have a boomerang effect. Three years ago we were crossing the Atlantic, and both the owners and myself were ex- ceadingly anxious to make a speedy trip, as a rival liner had the week before lower- ed the record held by our company. “On the third day out, just about dusk, the cry of ‘Man overboard’ rang through the ship, and a hurried investigation elic- ited the information that several of the passengers had heard a splash, followed by piteous appeals of ‘Help, help—save me! The engines were stopped and the steamer put about, a close watch being kept meanwhile for the drowning man. A half hour was spent in cruising about with- out results, and we started on our journey under the belief that the poor fellow had gone to the bottom. The inquiry that fol- lowed proved puzzling. No one was miss- ing, and we came to the conclusion that a stowaway had committed suicide. “The next day, however, an explanation came. We had a ventriloquist aboard in the person of a very smart young man, who was too tickled over the success of his joke to keep the secret. “Then the iaugh was on him. As he had caused a serious delay and much annoy- ance, I notified him that I had made an official entry of the circumstance on my log and the loss of time, and that on ap- proaching shore I would detain him until a sufficient guarantee had been put up that he would arswer in court to reply to a demand for financial restitution. I talked of $50,000 being about the penalty under the government mail contract, and it is need- less to say he spent the balance of the voyage on tenter hooks. He disappeared before we docked, leaving his baggage be- hin ++ Trustworthy. From Life. y “So your papa is willing to trust me with you, is he?” “Yes. He seemed sure you’d fetch me back to him.” A Bnd Egg. From the New York Journal. Tuthick—“I hear that Haddick is broke.” Erick—‘“That’'s a pity. He's an awful bad egg.” From Vogue. First Club Man (looking over paper)—“By Jove! The engagement of Miss Van Domus and old Tilcott is announced. She appears to_have really accepted him. ‘Second Ditto—Yes; and, they say, told him everything.’ First Club Man—‘What courage!” Second Ditto—‘What a memory!” on Familiar Occurrences. From the New York Tribune. When one considers the happy-go-lucky methods of some clerks and messengers the wonder is not why things go astray, but hew any arrive at their destination. The day before Christmas a parcel from an uptown dry goods shop was delivered on Wall street to the office boy of -Mr. Blank. Mr. Blank had gone away to spend the holidays, and did not report at the office for two weeks. “How did this come here?’ he asked. “My name is Blank, and there is no Mrs. Blank. And this is addressed to Pine street and our office is on Wall.” * “The feller that brought the goods said you onct had a place on Pine.” AS but I Jeft it more than four years ‘The goods were returned to the shop, and Mrs. Blank received her belated Christmas gift about the second week in January. “I ain't much of a hand to read writl explained a man who had tried to insist on leaving a large package of stationery with a bridge company, though it was plainly addressed to a life insurance firm. “You can read writin’ better’n me,” was the only excuse of a boy who went through a large office building inquiring for Y. Hickson. " He was about to leave the build- ing without finding an owner for the telo- gram, when a man took # from his hand to look at the address and found it was for himself, T. Johnson. “Ts Mr. Null in?" asked-a young woman who had just entered an office. “He’ is not in the city,” answered the clerk. “Not in the city! We had a special delivery letter from him this morning, and he didn’t say a word about going out of the city. I’ve come all the way from Orange to see him.” “He went away the night before last. Was the letter postmarked ‘New York?’ ” “It was either from his New York or Brooklyn office.” “There must be some mistake. Mr. Null has no Brooklyn office.” “There is no mistake, and Mr. Null has a branch office in Brooklyn.” The tone was indignant. The stranger evidently be- leved that the clerk was telling untrnths, and she could not divine his reason. “This is incomprehensible. I shall look to see if he has left any message for me.” She began to search the tables and shelves, as if she had the freedom of the place, and when she found nothing addressed to her glared at the clerk as if he had made away with the note, which should have been there. “If you will give me tvriting materidls I will leave a letter for him.” “Shall I forward it?” asked the clerk when the visitor handed him a carefully sealed letter. “No, leave it on his desk. I know he is in town.” As she went out of the door she said, in an audible aside, “If I have no answer by tomorrow morning I shall know he has not received it, and in that case I shall not fail to inform him where the blame Hes.” When Mr. Null returned and opened the letter addressed “R. Null, Personal,” he turned to his clerk in amazement. “How did this come here? It is not for me. My name is Robert, and I am addressed as ‘Dear Dick.’ I have no acquaintance ramed Josie Dash, and I don’t understand what family matters she refers to.” The clerk explained. « “What am I to do with it?” asked the perplexed reciplent. “it is evident she came to the wrong office. There are sev- eral Richard Nulls in town, but there is not one on this street so far as I know, and she gives no address. A few days later a letter came from one of the Richard Nulls, explaining that his cousin had by mistake left a note for him ‘tat the office of Mr. Robert Null, and would be much obliged if Robert would forward it to a given address, eee He Wan One of the Lynchers. From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat. They were unmistakably westerners. The most unobservant visitcr to the immigrant room at the Union station last night be- fore the Missouri Pacific train pulled out for Kansas City would have noticed that. They sat side by side, the old man resting his hands on a bundle covered with a red bandana, and the younger occupying his time scanning the faces that fitted in and out and away. Presently the young man poke. “Going far?” was his first question. “Yes.” The old man turned his head. “West, maybe?” “Oklahoma.” “Queer, but that’s where I’m bound for mysceif.” “Down on the Shakaskie river,” said the old_man, as though continuing a sentence. “Well, I'll be darned if I ain’t going right there myself.” “Boomer in the rush of '93?" said the old. man, interrogatively. “Yes; I've a good claim Got relatives down there yourself, maybe? I expect I know ‘em if you have, as I reckon there ain’t nary a one in the country that Si Wilson don’t know.” ‘a, I have no relatives there now. I had one—an corly son. He left his home over in Illinois, against his parents’ wish- es, to make the race for homesteads into the Cherokee strip in the fall uf '93. After the race we heard nothing from him. Not a line. One day a letter came from the sheriff of Arkansas City stating that my boy had been hung on the banks of the Shakaskie river. A letter from me was found in his ccat pocket. A placard was placed upon his breast with the one word, ‘Sooner,’ traced on it with mud. But my boy was no ‘sooner.’ It was a cowardly, murderous m2b that hung him. Did you hear of that? Was it in your neighbor- hood?” suddenly questicned the old farm- er, as he looked Si Wilson full in the face. Wilson had grown deathly pale; he di. not reply. He seized his carpet bag and rushed out with the remark that he must catch his train. A reporter, who had over- heard the conversation,followed and caught up with him, just as he was ordering a drink of whisky. “Did you see that hanging?” asked the reporter. “I was one of the lynchers,” he said, huskily, “but how I have suffered.” In His Official Character. Frem the Detroit Free Press. I was waiting for the post office at Huntsville to open in the morning and meanwhile talking a bit to the colored jan- itor, who was sweeping and dusting, when a negro boy, about fifteen years old, came along and halted, end beckoned the janitér to step aside. The old man looked at him sharply, but did not comply. “Say, yo'!” called the young man. There was no reply to this, and after a minute he called again: “Boy! what yo’ wants wid me?” sternly demanded the janitor. T wants to speak wid yo’.” “Who Is yo'2?” Yo’ know who T is. to my sister Evangeline. “Oh! you {s her brudder Sam. Waal, What yo" want?” ‘Kin yo’ lend me ten ci ‘On what grounds, sah?" “On de grounds dat y my _brudder-in-law.” “Boy, doan yo’ kitow. nuffin’ ’tall "bout philosophy?” shouted the janitor, as he raised his broom over his shoulder. ‘My bein’ engaged to yo'r sister Evangeline as a private citizen, an’ my standin’ heah representin’ de United States guy’ment an’ talkin’ wid a gem‘lan besides, am two en- tirely different contestashuns, As yo'r fucher brudder-in-law I'd like to obleege yo’, but as a representative of dis guv'- ment I doan know yo’ from Adam, an’ if yo’ doan’ move on I'll hey to smash yo’ to bone dust!” —————_+e+____ Unprecedented. From the Chicago Tribune, Mrs. Billus—“Don't you belleve it's true, John, that a person partakes to a consid- erable extent of the nature of the creatures he eats?” ; Mr. Billus—“No. I’ve been eating fish all my life, and F can’t swim a stroke. ———+e- Taking a Rest. . Yo’ is dun engaged ts? is gwine to be From Life. “Who was the gentleman who sat by you and stared into your face all even- celebrated mind reader.” ‘On his vacation?” At the Zoo, From Harper's Bazar. Perey—“Doeen’t the skin on phant’s legs sag awfully, Ellen?” Nurse—“Yes, indeed, Perc: Percy- should think the keeper would put stocking supporters on the poor thing.” the ele- THE PASSING OF POTTER, His W: a Natural Enough Misconcep- ‘ion, but It Was Fatal. From the Chicago Tribune. Algernon Potter made a mistake when he tried to climb a tree. Algy in his school boy days was the best climber on the North Side. He could “shin” up trees and flag- poles with an easy grace which won the ad- miration of his mates, and they dubbed him “champeen.” But this was when Algy was young, and slim, and wiry, and trees in that part of the city were but saplings. Now Algy is stout in form and soft in wind and muscle, while the same trees about the trunks of which he was wont to twine his limber legs with ease are now grown to stalwart proportions. Potter, his inamorata, Bessie, and a girl ecnfidante, May, who was to be bridesmaid at the wedding, were lounging in the skade urder the trees in Lincoln Park on Sunday last, when a strong gust of wind caught Bessie's filmy kerchief and sent it whirling up into the air, to lodge in the branches of a big tree. Algy saw the delicate bit of lace-webbed muslin float by and recognized. it as one he had given Bessie a few weeks before. He was bound to get it back, and was ready for action even before Bessie, on missing the spidery creation, called out: “Oh, Algy, get it back for me, won't you, dear? I would not lose it for anything. It’s more precious to me than all the others I have.” This settled it and Algy tackled the tree. It was a hot day, and he had a new $65 suit of clothes on. The tree was a big pop- jar, and the kerchief was caught fast in the first fork, twenty-five feet,from the ground. The first ten feet convinced bim of several important things, viz., his mus- cles were soft, the tree seemed to grow bigger in circumference and har ler to hold to the further up he got, and whether ke ever got the kerchief or not his good clothes were ruined. At twelve feot from the ground he stuck, tired out, limp and dis< consolate,eready to slide down to mother earth in an undignified manner, when he heard Bessie say: “He's doing splendidly, isn’t he, He'll get it. I know he will. Algy, you're ever so much better a climber than you claimed to be.”” For the first time during the engagement Algy wavered in devotion to his sweetheart. He had doubts as to whether she had sud- denly gone crazy or was simply chaffing him. In either case it would never do to give up at this juncture, so he valiantly wiggled up five feet more. His hands were barked and torn, his chin rasped where it had brushed against the tree, his collar wet as a bathing sponge with perspiration, and all his clothing clinging to his damp body so closely that every effort to advance himself up the tree threatened to separate Algy from some useful portion of his wardrobe. But he wiggled and shinned up- ward until only five feet of space-was be- tween him and the coveted kerchief, the girls meanwhile keeping up a running com- ment of the true tone of which Algy is to” this day unable to satisfy himself. “It's just perfectly splendid to be a man and climb like that, isn’t it, May?" And May not only said yes, but added a wish to the effect that she were a man, so she could shin up a tree and sit in the shade. of the upper branches on a hot day. Algy heard all this idle chatter, and it drove him to desperation. He went on with his climb- ing until he got one leg and one arm around the first outspreading branch, and there he hung utterly unable to advance or retreat. Every man who has ever climbed a tree knows what a sudden oozing out $f courage and vim follows the moment of getting inte the position Algy found himself in. Thoughts of getting the kerchief had van- ished. It was now merely a question of how he was to get back to terra firma without smashing himself to a jelly. In his agony of despair he was every moment be- coming weaker and drawing nearer and nearer the time when he would have to let go and drop to the ground and death. Algy began to struggle to place himself away from the danger point. In doing this he split his coat up the back and burst his suspenders. Then Algy got some yelief by swearing. The moment came when the climber could hold no longer. He slid and scrambled back from the limb to the trunk of the tree, just how he never will be able to tell. A second later there was a wild rush and scraping, followed by a loud thump, and Algy was sitting on the ground at the foot of the tree. He was too tired and sore to move. His coat was held to- gether only by the collar, his trousers part- ed when he struck the ground, an@ he was not in condition to rise and salute Bessie and May. To add te his bad luck both girls roared with laughter when they saw him. “He-he-he. He looks too funny for eny- thing, doesn’t he, Bessie, with his clothes all torn that way?” - This from May. It was followed by an equally exasperating remark from Bessie, who, between laughs, wanted to know if Algy had got her kerchief, and the mis- guided man began to brace himself for an- other outburst of expletives when a small boy came along. The boy had been fishing In the lake and had a fish line with a hook and sinker on it. When May suggested that the boy could earn a quarter by get- ting the handkerchief the urchin grinned and said: “Dat's dead easy, see? All I does is to trow me line up like dat and yank de wipe out, see?” The boy got his quarter and Bessle got her kerchief, which was badly torn where the youngster had slung his fishing kit into it. As she spread out the mangled bit of lace and linen Algy saw it was not the one he had given her, and he felt bad. He felt worse when she Said, crying bitterly, a mo- ment later: ‘I_ would rather have lost all the other pretty handkerchiefs I own than had this one torn. I prize it more than all the rest because Bob gave it to me.” And then Algy said words louder and more fiercely than ever. He raved and ranted and wanted to know if Bessie thought he was a double-blanked idiot to ruin his clothes and lacerate his fiesh climbing a tree to rescue a measly old rag some cheap skate had given her. Bessie sald he was “too awfully horrible” for any self-respecting young lady to associate with. Besides, she couldn’t think of mar- rying an untruthful man, and Algy had traveled far from the paths of veracity when he said he could climb a tree. Thus was the engagement dislocated, and the girls ffounced off, leaving Aigy to be minis- tered to by a sparrow cop who had been watching the fun from a clump of treeg across the road. She Had Been There. Fiom the Adams Freeman, The house had been aroused by a burglar, Mr. Jones saw a man with a mask going throug the pockets of his pantaloons, and, as quick as thought, he shot at him, the. intruder making good his escape. Why,” asked Mrs. Jones, thoroughly awake, “what did you scare me for?” “I saw a man robbing my pockets and fired at him.” “Well, he didn’t get anything, complacently. “How do you know?” pcb: I tried "em myself before I came to ed. sald she, © —+e+— Good Results. , From El Diluvio. 2 A gentleman went into a chemist’s shop and inquired: “Do you keep a good cure for corns?" ‘Yes, sir; here you have an excellent Preparation. One of my customers has been using it for the last fourteen years with very good results.” —_—__-oo__ Nowadays. From Trath. It's a wise child that knows his own father.