Evening Star Newspaper, August 31, 1895, Page 12

i: THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 81, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. PROPOSALS. PROPOSALS FOR STATIONERY FOR THB Navy Yard, Washington, D. ©.—August 15, 1895.— Sealed proposals, ced“ for’ Station- August 31, bureau of supplies and account Beat, Washington, D.-O., until TWELVE O°CLOCK NOOK, AUGUST "THIRGY-FIRST. 1800, and pub- licly opsned immediately thereafter, to’ farnish at the Navy Yard, Washington, D. ©., the annual supply of Stationery. tionery must con- form to t vy standurd and pass the usual Raval inspection. Blank 1s be fur pished upen, application to the Navy Yard, Wash. . O. attention of manufacturers and invited. ‘Tie Lids, all other things ‘The de} nem re- reject apy or all bids uot deemed advantageous to the gov- emment. A. K. MICHLER, Acting Chlef of Bu- reau. guzl-2aw2W PROPOSALS FOR CONSTRUCTING AN room school, to be known us the Greenleaf, on 4% between M and N streets southwest, Wash- ington, D.C.—Oflice of the, Commissioners D.C., fashington, D.C., August 28, 1895.—Sealed pro- Is Will be Tecelved at ' this office until YELVE M. on WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER EOULTH, (1600, for constructing an, Eight-room School Building’ on lots 67, 68, @& and 70, suare ing On 44) between M and N streets southwest, in the city of Washington, Cc. to be known’as the Greenleaf. Blank forms of pro- Posals and specifications, together with all the Necessary information, cin be obtained upon ap- plication therefor at the office of the Inspector of wuildings of the District of Columbia, and bids on these forms only will be considered.” The right EIGHT- 4g reserved to reject any and all bids, Proposals mitst be inclosed in an envelope, sealed and in- “Propes Conatruct- Building." JOHN W. DELL, CHAS. F. POW: au2s-6 COMMISSIONERS OF DEEDS. COMMISSIONER OF DEEDS AND NOTARY PUB- ie for all states end territories a SPECIALTY by R. H. EVANS. Office (basement), 1821 ¥ st. Always in office, office hours. myll-tf CHARLES 8. BUNDY, COMMISSIONER OF DI Of all the States and Territories. - aves #4 ste Bw. (new Equity building). JOHN E. BEALL, JOHN E. MITCHELL, Commissioners of Deeds for every state and terri: tory. ry Public. United States Commissioner. D. G. ‘Pfeiffer & Co., 417 Eleventh St., NEAR PENNA. AVE. STIEFF, ‘These are our leading makes of Pinos. VOSE & SON, We sell at Factory prices, for McCAMMON. cash or on easy payments. aual-tt We have the finest stock of slightly used of second-hand Pianos in the city, and just now we are selling them at unusually low bargain prices. Cash bargains and easy payment bargains. Uprights u2d Squares. $100, $125, $150, $175, $200, $250. Handsomesstyles, prominent makes. ‘Will you be one of the lucky bargain hunters? The Piano Exchange, a 20d 913 PENNA. AVE. Pianos and Organs At Midsummer Bargain Improvement P; Our improvements are going on, and we have a few handsome New Upright and Grat Pianos which we will sell to you at a very large reduction from regular prices in order to get them out of the way. | We have Chickering, Mason & Hamlin, Henry F. Miller and other Pianos, on which you can save from $100 to $150 if you tuy now. We sell for cash, on time or easy monthly install- ments. Square Pianos—$60, We have also a few cheaj $75 and $100, on $5, monthly, paymenta, A second-hand Grand Piano for $150, at $10 per mo. Please call promptly and make your select! John F. Ellis & Co.,@ 937 Penna. Ave. WE HAVE AN ALMOST NEW UPRIGHT PIANO, left with us to sell by private party, for $110 cash. ‘A magnificent upright, $10 cash and $10 per month. Pianos stored at low rates. HUGO WORCH & CO. is 2253 fy30-6m,8 924 7th D.w. Pianos. SLIGHTLY USED UPRIGHT AND GRAND IANOS OF OUR OWN MAKE; ALSO SECOND- HAND UPRIGHT AND SQUARE PIANOS OF DIF- mi oe MAKES AT ALL PRICES AND TERMS SUIT. PIANOS FOR RENT. Tuning and Repatri.g by experienced workmen. Wm. Knabe & Co., 1422 Penn. Ave. N.W. Telephone call No. 1737. ap29-tt MEDICAL. _ AFTER ALL OTHERS FAIL CONSULT THE OLD reliable specialist, Dr. Brothers, 906 B st. s.w.; SO years’ experience in treatment of all diseases msultation free and strictly confidential. EASES OF + _Chronie Diseases, Blood Ni ven Debility and Dis- nips success in effecting cures 1s due to his expert skill and the inter- est which he takes in every case Intru tion free, Hours, 9 to 5, lays, 10 till NO FEB UNTIL CUR! Dr. Czarra, 602 F ST. N.W., W: ‘Treats all chronic, nervors and blood diseases, aleobolism and opiim Exbit. SPECLALTY--Kide aml Bladder ‘Trouble, Piles, Fistula, Strle- &e. Spseial disses positively und per= ly cured; vitellty restored. Cousultation 6:30 Am* hours: 9 to 12 2.m., 2 to 5:30 p. to 8 p.m.; Sundays, 4 to 7 p-m. aula DENTISTRY. PAINLESS DENTISTRY. For absolutely painless operations in dentistry we stand without ‘a superior ; ‘All operations characterized by gentleness, skill and ingenvity of the highest order. “ne With shady awnings ond electric fans, which fur- nish Coney Island sea breezes, to keep you cool, to- gether with our painless methods, make your visit fo cur office one of pleasure Instead of dread. Ab- golutely painless extracting, 50c. Fillings from 7: up. Best teeth, $8, Crown and bridge work. DR. GKAHAM, 207 7th st. nw. au3-14d FREE DENTAL, INFIRMARY, 707 I st. n.w. Open dally from 10 to 12 a.m. and 2 to 5 p.m. No charge except for materials used. Extiacting free. n27-tf Curious visitors are welcome. We gladly explain our methods of associating professional skill with correct business management. The co-operative principle applied to dentistry surprises most people—and will surprise you If your dentist ts old-fash- foned, clumsy or high-priced. Painless Extracting, 50c. Filling, 7Be. up. Best teeth, $8. Crowns, bridges, ete., at corresponding prices; estimates gladly given, U. S. Dental Association, Cor. 7th and D Sts. N.W. Three Aged Poets. From the Boston Herald. There are at the present time three aul English poets, each of whom has pacsed his eightieth year and ts living in retire- ment and in the enjoyment of a reputa- tion that is in the past. One is Freder- son, now near his ninetieth year, his art into old age, and preparing a volume for pub- lication. The time was when he seemed to be a greater poet than his brother Al- fred, but the Laureate long ago left him behind in the race. Another is Mr. Aubrey de Vere, whose father, Sir Aubrey de Vere, was a fri sworth, and whose se a remini: of e poets.” He has written largely n Catholic subjects, but his work now n better adapted for a small circle than for the multitude. The third is Mr. Philly James Bailey, who sixty was famous as the author of “Festus,” but who has so died out of recollection that few of the present generation have ever heard of him. Once he was fr ahead of Browning in public estima- tion, and his admirers claimed that he Would icave Tennyson out of sight. WHEN POSITION FAILS An Acoount Given in the Memoirs of Fairfax Middleton, Esq., of Maryland, of the Adventure in the Street of the Os- puchins, Warsaw, Sept. 3,177L BY CLINTON ROSS, (Copyright, 1895, by Clinton Ross.) In 1776 our representatives declared in the enthusiasm of the moment the para- dox, “All men born free and equal.” 'Twas @ neat erough statement for paper, but some in America believed it not. Was there an equal for Gen. Washington? Did we not cringe a bit to rank when a French marquis—albeit a tall, red-haired boy— came among us? A title caught even then many a good appointment, and I doubt much sometimes if Alexander of New Jer- sey would have been so much esteemed if he had not had claim to the Scottish earl- dom of Stirling. I am sure many ineffi- cient foreign adventurers had service with us because they had titles. Two of these gentlemen proved conclusively great nat- ural abilities; one, of course, Monsieur La- fayette, who, a boy of twenty, came so cleverly out of the affair of Barren Hill, and the other, Casimir Pulaski, the Pole, whom I saw fall with a wound in the thigh during the charge on Savannah. Taken on the brig Wasp, he died as she was putting to sea, esteemed a good friend, a gallant captain. It was only the night before that he told me the truth of that affair at Warsaw, which led to his service in America. He was not, the Count Pulaski assured me, himself a partner in this matter, although he was indeed a member of the confedera- tion of Bar, sworn to fight for Polish free- dom to the very «nd. But circumstantial evidence led to his banishment, as it had to that of so many others. Despairing of Po- land and eager for a career he came to America. Yet, although my friend was not himself in this affair, the story he told of it ap- pears to me new. The picture of the king and the assassin walking side by side and reasoning together of the rainy night in the wood of Bilany has had more than passing effect. Tha story proves that our revolt against a king was not the first. Ah, history is full of these instances, King John, Charles Stuart, Stanislaus of Poland, Louis XVI, George III, by proxy in America, and many another account. Now, this is the account of the affair as I remember it, that began in the street of the Capuchins, Warsaw. ‘The king had been in his summer palace that day of September 3, 1771, and his coach was returning along the street of the Capuchins. How it was 9 o'clock of a rainy night, as the leader of the king’s guard of some seventeen dragoons was astounded, when, suddenly, a man leaped before his herse with the loud command, “Halt.” The Meutenant struggled to bring his saber down on the fellow’s head. His horse careened, stopping indeed the whole company and the coach, whence the king’s head suddenly projected. At the moment a shot from a window of @ supposedly deserted house grazed the king’s face, instantly killing the servant who was with him in the coach. “The king is assassinated,” the cry was raised from guards and passers. “His majesty is dead!” Stanislaus, who ever was considerate of his inferiors, shouted at this. “It is Felix, the heyduc, who fs shot. Quick, catch the assassin!” Suddenly down the street came the sourds of horses, and cries, “Down with Stanis- laus, the creature of the Russians!” At the same instant men rushed out of the house whence the shot into the coach had come, swearing, shouting and firing. One of the king’s guards cried: “A plot! An ambush! There are a thou- sand!” Instantly the panic became general. The lieutenant of the guards, who had succeeded in running through the fellow at his bridle rein, now found himself con- fronted by the horsemen. Turning, he led the flight, and the king was left almost alone in his coach, hugging the dead body of his poor servant, and oblivious to every- thing else. The horses on the coach, rear- ing and plunging, required all the attention of the postillions, who themselves were frightened out of whatever wit they may have had. By this time the leader of the attacking poreeren was dismounted by the coach loor. “Out, Stanislaus!” he cried, “you are to come with me.” The king perceiving this to be Count Kolinski cried out to him: “Kolinski, traitor, Iam your king.’’ For an instant Kolinski hesitated. The sight of the king, placed as he was, with the dead servant in his arms, and yet, still the king with that dignity Stanislaus always possessed, that scene shown dimly by the lantern of the coach, shook for a moment the conspirator’s resolution. But the others were behind him, des- perate, and knowing that if the issue cf the adventure were not successful, death was certain. “Pull him out!” Then Stanislaus looked up from the dead heyduc in his lap—the dark, handsome man he always was, now with no fear, but with a mastering anger at the indig- nity, “You shall hang for this!" Ah, they knew_that danger too well. They could not hesitate if pity for a mo- ment had weakened their purpose. Roughly they dragged the king from the coach, he struggling and crying and cling- ing to the dead and the sides of the coach. I can imagine nothing more horrible than that scene—the king now outside in the mud, the dead body of the servant dangling from thg coach step, the postil- lions struggling ih their horses, the con- pirators, some on foot and some mounted, surrounding the king, one bringing the flat of a saber against his head, the crowd of Ao speople who suddenly had gath- ered. And then a cry went up—_ | “The guards are returning!” Kolinski was on his horse now, and he caught the king, who, between the strug- gle and horror at his dead servant, was im a half dazed state. Another seized Stanislaus’ other shoulder. “The guards!" rang out the cry again. “The guards! Kolinski lashed his .horse, dragging the near lifeless king. On they tor2, Kolinski again and again having to slacken his horse's speed lest the king should be killed. So much more slowly was the progres made by those who were dragging the king that the others, now seized with panlo, ran as they could; and when the ditches beyond the city were reached onl; seven remained. Here Kolinski pat uncertain about the path in the darknvss, made denser by the rain. They were out- side the city with their captive, but whither should they take him. Kolinski cursed. The king braced himself without a word ggainst the dripping horse. Stanislaus had cst a shoe. His foot was torn and bleed- ig. Never was man or king in sorrier plight. “Do you remember, sire, that you danced at the palace last night?” Kolinski asked, with bitter mockery. “Ah, fallen king!” said Stanislaus. “I re- member, and can foresee, wretch, how high you will hang.” “Hang!” muttered Kolinski at this. “Ah, I may.” In the meantime one of the others called back: “This is the way.” Kolinski then spurred up his horse, again dragging the king. But the way was un- even. He stopped to dismount, releasing Stanislaus for an instant. “Yes, we shall have to walk,” said one of the others. “But where are we?" “In the wood of Bilany,” Stanislaus him- self answered. “Yes, but where?” asked Kolinski, peer- ing into the gloom. The rain trickled from the leaves, and then came another sound. “The Russians!’ whispered one. “The Russians!” “A patrol?” questioned anether. “Quick! Save ycurselves.” Panic seized them as it had the others. They disappeared among the trees into the darkness. Then the king laughed a jarring, mocking laugh. “Kolinski, my captors have fled. We are alone—you and I. Come, let me go. We are man to man.” “Man to man, Pole against Russian. I have sworn, Stanislaus, to take you. I'll not give up.” “But can I not call out to the Russians?” “Bah! Cry out! Do you suppose they would believe you were the king? Do you suppose they could hear? I do not believe they were Russians, but only the panic fears of my friends.” 7K “And you have no fear, Kolinski?” “Fear? Yes, I have enough of it. But I am little less likely to di¢—and I have no wish to die—if I carry this out.” And here the king interrupted by shout- ing at the top of his voice. “How useless,” said Kolinski, trying to put his hand over the other's mouth. “Do you not see that you are as likely to be heard by my friends, who will hasten to help me, as by a Russian patrol?’ The king, who was muoh exhausted, as one may believe, had thrust Kolinski’s hand aside. Now he said: “Ay, true.” “But where are we?’ asked Kolinski. “T know not save in the wood of Bilany.” “We must walk and find out. We cannot go over these ruts with the horse.” “You must walk,” said the king. “It avails neither of us to stand as-we are in the rain.” And leaving the horse they walked on through the dripping wood, not knowing the direction, although Kolinski was care- ful to take that which he thought led away from Warsaw. And as this odd pair stum- bled.on, the king sore and sad and weak, so that Kolinski, he knew, would have no difficulty in controlling him alone, the king said: “Villain, you shot my servant, Felix.” “I would to heaven it had been your majesty. “And in what have I wronged you, Ko- linski?”" “As you havesevery Pole, by ruling Poland for her enemy’s sake.” “Yes, granted, man,that may be the fact. But how do you know that I may not think it for the better?” “and why?” “Because you Poles cannot rule your- selves—nor would you let me.” “No; we have stolen your majesty that you may not rule.” “And how did you get into Warsaw “I have sworn, sire,” began Kolinski, al- most humbly, for he understood well the significance behind that “but.” Stanislaus threw himself on the ground wearily. 2 , “Ah,” said the other, with sudden pity, “I had forgot ‘your wound.” “Yes, Count‘ Kolinski, you have forgot much.” iy “And what, sire?” “That he who takes an oath against his king takes no binding one.” “Sire, it is Poland's interest I have sworn to protect. And yet——" “And yet, Kodlinski?” “This night I have grewn to think dif- ferently of you. you as a man.’ “A king is but more—or less—than man.” “The king of Peland I held less up to this night.” ; “And have you changed?” “If I should free you I should be taken— executed. “Count,” said the king at this, for Stan- islaus had a shrewd wit in times of need. “If I be more than man, a king, my oath should be good, and I swear to you you shall meet no harm. Should my guards come on us now I would direct them to the road contrary to that you may take.” “If I could believe you?” I have come to respect ‘You have suffered, so much from me.” “You can believe me if you will reflect.” “And why?” asked Kolinski, again won- dering. “Because I want your brain, your daring. Should I persuade you, I should have you as my servant.” “True,” Kolinski reflected. Some crea- tures stirred in the forest. A little wind waved the trees and swept their faces. The phases of the matter presented themselves, Which was the better—the safer? To serve the king? Certain he would be a fool not to, should the king succeed or fall. The scene in the street of the Capuchins oc- curred to him again, the king with the dead servant in his arms, lit by the fitful glare of the lantern of the coach. The wander- ing in the forest had changed his idea of Stanislaus. “You are the king, sire. Forgive me, if you may.” Ah; could he, after that night's adven- ture! For the moment he hesitated again. Suddenly Stanislaus extended his hand to his, “Thank you, Count Kolinski.” ‘But I have not said.” “J know your thoughts. It is your inter- est to serve me, they tell you, count.” “I have thought that, sire.” And then, with the quickness daring men arrive at decisions, he cried: “I will serve you. They—my comrades— have run, leaving it all for me to do. My interest is with you, sire.” “If I had ‘not’ thought you would arrive at this conclusion, I should have cried out to the monk,” ‘Stanislaus answered. ‘For do you not ‘see! how truly your interest is with me? It is doubtful, should I resist, if you could get me to your friends. On the other hand, 'we both are lost in the forest. We need each other.” without arrest?” said the king, when the other answere: “Your majesty need not suspect your police in this matter. We entered disguised as peasants, and some of us hid in hay certs.” Now, in this strange conversation, with- out any further appeal by the King to his companion’s pity, Kolinski, yet, in some way was influenced. They both were equally lost in the wood of Bilany, captive and captor, and now that Kolinski reflect- ed about the matter, he saw that it was equally necessary for both to find some way out. Yet he must not let the king es- cape him. His freedom, nay, his life, prob- ably, depended on him keeping the king. ‘After stumbling along, the rain now hav- ing stopped, the pair noticed a lUght through the trees. “The convent of Brelany!” said the king. With a cry of dismay Kolinski recognized the building, which declared that for all their walking they had proceeded in a cir- cle, the building not being a league from Varsaw. “Shall we ask ald of the nuns?” the king asked. For answer the other clutched his arm. “Not on your life, fool!” he cried. As he spoke the great gate was suddenly thrown back, casting a bar of light over a road that was revealed and the dripping caks beyond. Out of the gate came slowly an old monk, stumbling along. Kolinski clutched the king’s arm the tighter, know- ing that he was lost should the monk dis- cover them. But he did not. The door closed; the monk passed down the road. The place was still, when suddenly the notes of the organ in the convent chapel broke in on the silence. The king crossed himself, muttering a prayer. “For my hey duc, Felix, whom you kill- , man. y ec.game" sald Kolinskt, “We annot wait here. “The king followed; and again Kolinskt wondered why the king had not tried to communicate with the monk. “Why did you not speak? Why do you come with me?” he asked, curiously, after a moment. ‘Why, man, do you not strug- le with me?” . Sipecause, Kolinskl, I would win you. The count paused at that. Again they were in the forest. Again he was not cer- tain of their path, but it was not of this uncertainty he was thinking now, but of the king. ist “Why did you not cry out to the monk? ‘You would have been caught.” Of course, but so much the better for roughly. you.” “No,” answered the king, worse, Kolinski.”” “And why, I have asked?” “Count, has not tonight proven how much the King of Poland needs friends? Strong, daring men?” “And you are trying to gain me?” “T am trying to gain you.” Count Kolinski wag ever most suspicious; now he saw the king's cunning, he thought, in endeavoring to gain him. ‘And suddenly he asked himself why would it not be better for him to side with the king. The issue of the adventure was uncertain. He was alone with the captive, who, of course, was disabled with the wound in his foot and the rough usage. He, Kolinski, easily could let the king escape. It would be easy to persuade his fellow-conspirators that he had been forc- ed to abandon the captive, as all the others, indeed, had. By aiding the king he might purchase for himself immunity. The “thought was tempting, possibly more so because of a certain dignity with which Stanislaus had borne himself since the first of the adventure. Kolinski felt him- self, you may see, grasping a horn of the dilefima he had not before taken. And as he thought of his position he remembered the strong oath he had taken to carry out his object. “Come!” he began. “But—” Gjanislaus began. “T have considered that, sire.” At this they were groping thelr way again, the king saying that they must be near the mill of Mariement. They had come on a path which he was certain was one he remembered when hunting in that part of the wood. By this time, the clouds lifting some- what, they were able to see that the con- jecture might prove true, and presently they heard the brook tumbling over its stony bed below the raceway of the mill. At the door of the low, darkened build- ing Kolinski knocked, once, twice, thrice and again. When there was no response he grew impatient. “Where do you suppose the miller of Mariement may be?” he asked. “Inside, thinking we may be robbers,” said the king. At this Kolinski pfcked up a stone and sent it crashing through the window, while he shouted, “Open to the king.” Then there came a light, and an old man's querulous, fretful tone, ‘‘What want ou?” “The king is here at your door, rascal; open!" The miller was not persuaded even then. But at last, between his fear and curiosity, he opened his door. And even then he had difficulty in recognizing Stanislaus in the miserable figure the king made after his sorry experience. “Pardon, sire,” knees, “pardon.” “Up, man, I do not wonder. The Count Kolinski and I were set on by assassins in the forest.” “Assassins!” cried the miller of Marie- ment. “Yes, assassins,” Stanislaus answered, while he pushed into the bare little room where the miller's wife and son stood star- ing thelr astonishment. Kolinski now began to tremble for him- self. Would Stanislaus keep his word with him now? The king’s manner had changed. He was writing to Gen. Coccei of the guards in Warsaw. “By a kind of miracle I am saved from the assassins. I am here at a little mill of Mariement:: I am wounded, but not badly.” He called; tosthe miller, who now was eager enough to gain the royal favor, to carry the letter. to Warsaw. While they waited Kolinski again hesitat- ed, but being a:bréve man, he saw that re- grets availed him nothing. Possibly Stanis- Jaus was equally suspicious of him. At any rate, they both:showed their relief in their faces when:Gen Coccel, who had believed the king to bevdead, arrived at the mill door in his: carriage. But then again Kolinsk! trembled. “He is one ef the conspiracy, sire. I have proof positive,” the general of the guards deelared. “Proof positive!” Stanislaus answered smiling. “EZ have proof positive that Count Kolinski has saved my life.” 2 Kolinski had listened to every word. “Sire,” sgid ge at last, “am I indeed pardoned?” * “Hush,” said Stanislaus, “we are friends. Our fortune Mes together. Your friends will accuse you of siding with me. Ah, you have.” “You have the proof, your excellen Kolinski said, turning to the commandant of the guards. He had gained courage. The adventure of the wood had changed his politics, nay, his opinions. Stanislas appeared to him as he was—a likable gen- tleman, misplaced as King of Poland. In the event Stanislaus kept his word given in his desperation. He had seen dur- ing that strange walk they had taken to- gether how clever a man Kolinski was. He alone received pardon. He alone of all the conspirators escaped the flat of the Polish jaw. Two of the conspirators—Strawenski and Lowenski—accused him very bitterly of their betrayal. They execrated him as they ascended the scaffold. But Count Kolinski answered the charge boldly. He said the other conspirators he cried, falling on his abandoned him. He could not keep the king without aid. When he had discoversd that Stanislaus was inclined to be clement he had accepted his clemency, and the King had kept to his word. However erro- neous Stanislaus’ political opinions and practices might be, he at least had not,led in this; was ever, as far as he was able to be, the good friend of those who supported him. At least Count Kolinski declared that the “man” was greater than the “opinion.” If these declaraticns were influenced by fear, I am sure that Count Kolinski, had good, prudefft reasons for his conduct. At least I have a very vivid picture of the strange scene between king and conspira- tor, of the rainy night in the wood. I fear I have not made the scene so clear as the account Casimir Pulaski gave of the ad- venture that began with the abduction in the street of the Capuchins. On the last night of Casimir Pulaski’s life, as I have said, he told me this. The morrow was to bring the fatal assault be- fore Savannah. Possibly the whole scene is more vivid to me on account of that memory. For Count Pulaski, although we were very jealous of foreigners, was a most excellent captain, as his achievement in the southern department showed. That he served with us at alf was en- tirely due to the adventure of which I have given a poor enough description, and in which, although it led to his banishment, he himself had no part. Although I have heard many stories to the contrary, I have no reasen to doubt the strict truth of this statement, for in my own experience I over found Casimer Pulaski a man of his word. Note—When in Warsaw recently I saw & monument erected to the servant who was shot in the king's coach on the street of the Capnchins that night of September 1771. F. M., at Naples, July, 1818. ' —————— HARD TO HANDLE. In Timidity the Giraffe Greatly Re- sembles the Deer. From Leisure Hours. The greatest ving example of the giraffe, that has so recently been added to the so- clety’s collection arrived in England during the exceptionally hard winter, and, al- though cooped up in a roughly built box, seemed at the end of its long journey but iittle the worse for it, and a day after it had been in its house, fed heartily, and seemed perfectly well and sound. It is a peculiarly handsomely marked specimen, much darker in color than any that have previously been brought to this country. All that we have had have come from the northern half of Africa, and are known as Nubians; this one comes from the south. When it first came, it had on a headstall with a rope halter. This, it was felt, it would be wise to take off, and we hap- pened to be present the morning it was done. On paper it seemed an easy thing to do—just take it off; but with a frisky and timid creature like the giraffe it was hard work for three strong men. First, they had to get a rope round the leather headstall, then the moment that was done the creature pirouetted round and round and twisted the rope about its neck and legs so that the keepers were in the utmost alarm lest in its frantic struggles it should seriously damage itself. At last they un- wound the rope and endeavored to pull the giraffe’s high head down to such a level that they could get at it; but time after time, just as the victory seemed cer- tain, it suddenly slewed away, twisting the cord again and again around its neck. At last, however, they did succeed. One cley- er cut with a sharp knife and the whole headstall fel: off, and the creature bound- ed away wich flying heels, much to tle danger of the three men. Mr. Windhorn, the Cape farmer who caught and brought it over, described how he feared it would hardly live, as it was so thin and emaciated when he got it, but it soon took to feeding end got into bettet condition. He had a long ride after it and caught it with a lasso, which he is an adept at throwing. + It is very curious how timid these crea- tures are about certain sounds. Noisy sounds, like a man walking by with hob- nail boots, it does not notice; but a lady coming in with hardly more sound than the mere rustling of her dress, makes it stare, with pricked ears and eyes distended. We remember well after the terrible explosion of gunpowder on a barge on the neighbor- ing canal, asking the keepers of the giraffes of that day how they had taken it, and he said he was surprised how very little no- tice they took at all. They jumped to their feet, but almost at once lay down again when they found nothing had happened. “But,” ho added, “if I was at night time to creep along that gallery in my socks quietly they would be so scared that I be. lieve they would dash themselves to bit: They fear the lurking foe, and a big bang scares them less than a faint, rustling sound. They are in that very deerlike. HE HAD A MISSION. But Some How He Found the Police Officer Obdurate. From the Detroit Free Press. He had a bouquet in his hand—e bouquet of flowers which had evidently been thrown away on the street—and as he encountered a policeman on Grand River avenue at an early hour he said: “Officer, we should all seek to make our fellowmen more happy.” “What's the matter with you?” asked the bluecoat as he looked his man over. “I am happy; I feel at peace with all mankind. I want to make others happy. Officer, do you know of a fellowman in town who ifs discouraged and despairing —who feels that the world is against him ho has no one to speak kindly to him?” “No, sir, I do not.” “I wish you did. I would go to that man and present him with this bouquet and say: ‘Fellowman, cheer up! All is not lost! Keep a brave heart and the tide will turn for thee!’ It might be the means of saving that man from going to a suicide’s grave or from committing some desperate crime. So you don’t know any such man?” “No, sir.” “Then, officer,” continued the man as he extended the faded flowers, ‘allow me to present you with this, and to indulge in the hope that your daily life may be as pure and spotless as these roses and vio- lets, and that when you are finally called tow” “Now, you go on!” exclaimed the officer, as he flourished his club. “You won't accept, eh?” “No, sir! Don’t try any guys on me.” “And you don’t want your life to be pure and spotless?” “I want you to move on, sir.” “Very well; I will move on. I will carry this bouquet with me. Sooner or later I will find a fellowman to whom I can say: ‘Take them and from this moment realize that there Is one who is willing to lend you a hand!’ And he will take them—and I will have made the world better—and you go to Halifax and keep on being a copper- bottomed old sinner!” Studying to Please. From the Kansas City Star. A man afflicted with the disease of fin- ickism, an exaggeration of the value of de- tails, was giving his order for breakfast to % hotel waiter. The man was finical in the extreme, and the exactitude of his or- der respectfully amused the waiter, who was somewhat of a judge of human nature, inasmuch as he had served breakfast to many men. Breakfast time is invariably when you get down to the bedrock of a man’s true dispo- sition. It is too early in the day and he is too close to nature itself to have put on the little frills that he begins to assume along about ]1 o'clock. At all events, the waiter understood and took his order re- spectfully, even servilely, wlihout losing his own estimate of the man.- The man had a morning cough, and sip- ped ice water as he gave his order. “Bring me a pot of coffee,” he said. “And mind, it must be hot—hot and strong—don’t forget to have it strong. And a sirloin steak, rare; remember, haye it rare, and no fat. I can’t bear the sight of fat in the morning.” “Yessir, yessir. No fat,” replied the waiter. “And bring me some dry toast, hot, mind you; hot toast, and have it made from stale bread. I don’t want it toasted outside and soggy within. Now, don’t forget that.” , Sir; all right, sir; not soggy inside, ir,” echoed the waiter. “And some sliced tomatoes,” continued the man: “And take the chopped ice off the tomatoes and drain them. I want them dry, you understand, dry. Now, don’t for- get that.” “All right, sir. Tomatoes must be dry.” “And, let’s see! Yes, bring me some fried eggs. Fresh eggs, you know, perfectly fresh. And I want them fried on one side only. Don’t forget that.” “Yessir; fried on one side. And which side, sir?" THINGS HEARD AND SEEN Few people attending a funeral have found elt necessary to walk home. Such was the experience, however, of three la- dies and a gentleman recently attending the funeral of a sister-in-law. The party in question had a lot in the cemetery, in which were buried their mother and broth- er. Wishing to have a look at the lot while they were so near, they asked the driver, when the services at the grave of their relatives were over, to drive up a certain road on their way out, as they wanted to pass lot No. —. They had not seen their driver take long and frequent draughts from a dark bottle while the ser- vices were going on. They would not have left the rest of the party if they had. They were on a strange road and could not quite get their bearings, so drove 1p one road and down another until they got the driver pretty well mixed up. Then he whipped up his horses, and as it grew darker and the contents of the dark bottle began to grow effective, he seemed to think that what these ladies wanted was a little pleasure drive around the cemetery. The horses kept going faster, and the roads kept turning oftener, and up and down and round and round he drove the frightened women until the sun quite disappeared. The gentleman was quite old and a partial invalid, and was of little use to rescue the party from a drunken driver. As darkness was beginning to set in and they began to see a possibility of remaining in the ceme- tery all night, they began a series of “hal- loas,” accompanied by severe pounding on the window behind the driver. The situation was becoming alarming, for he paid no heed. Then the women scream- ed lustily to “stop these horses.” This brought the gatekeeper from the lodge, who took in the situation at a glance, stop- ped the horses and the occupants got out in less time than it takes to tell it. The driver had gone sound asleep on his box. The keeper escorted the party to the gate, unlocked it and showed them the way to the nearest street car. After their return home and their excitement had abated, they hadn't even the satisfaction of know- ing whether their lot was in good condition or not. They didn’t kill two birds with one stone that day. A large, good-natured looking man, who always stops at a certain uptown hotel, was greatly attracted to a little girl in the dining room the other day. She was about two years old, was beginning to run about and talk a good deal, and also appeared to be,at home in the hotel. After smiling at him across the dining room, and making friends with him at a distance, he accosted her in the hall. He asked her the regula- tion questions put by strangers to children, all of which she answered promptly as her baby fashion would permit. Finally the old gentleman shock hands with her and said: “You are a nice Uttle girl. Shall I bring you a box of candy toe morrow?" The little one looked puzzled a moment, then spoke up brightly, “No; ‘oo better doe det it now!” She got the candy that evening. An immaculate summer girl and an up- to-date young man went into a fashionable drug store up-town, where there are more tables and chairs than there are bottles and sick room paraphernalia. Seating themselves at a table, the young lady ordered sarsaparilla and her escort “‘tonic.”” When the glasses arrived the one which ought to have been sarsaparilla was a white, sirupy-looking Mquid. The young. woman hesitated, not wanting to experi- ment on a strange beverage. Then up jumped the young man and set the glass on the soda water counter, say- ing, “This order ought to have been sarsa- parila, Please change it.” “Well, isn’t it sarsaparilla?” the clerk in- quired. “Why, of course, not; dark.” “But ours is not. It is just plain, un- colored sarsaparilla.” 5 On further inquiry the summer girl and the young man learned that when sarsa- parilla is dark It is because it is colored with burnt sugar. Sarsaparilla ‘s In a crowded 9th street car last market morning sat a young man just out of his tallor’s hands. Fresh white duck trousers, most approved dark blue serge, double breasted summer coat, new yellow shoes and white straw hat with a brown band. It Was all set off to advantage by the pretty blue neglige shirt with long, white tle, and he was a fetching sight. He had been to the station to meet a young lady, evidently just from the mountains, and he was on his very best behavior, sure. At the market ‘several women got in with their baskets some having chickens with their heads sticking out, others cov- ered over the top with fresh vegetables, fruits, and other desirable things at this season, One very large and very warm lady got in and dropped into the seat next to this freshly-done-up young man. Down went her basket on his nice new shoe, and, perhaps, a corn or two also. Apologies and a polite rejoinder followed, but the polite rejoinder had a severe ring to it and a flash of the eye that the fat lady did not like. She kept her eye on him. He soon turned to his young lady and said in an undertone: “They ought to run freight cars on this line for the market women.” The old lady heard him, turned very red, then sat up very straight and caught his eye. With a withering look and in a voice for the whole car to hear she remarked: “They ought to put on parlor cars for dudes.” And even the girl at his side joined in the titter which followed. The cable car was crowded, and when a passenger boarded it he wes nearly upset by the sudden. starting of the grip car and tread on the toe of a man standing at the rear end. beg your pardon,” he seid, very polite- ly; but the man of the hurt toe scowled and in an undertone muttered curses. The innocent offender again apologized. “Yes, but that doesn’t help my toe any, and he growled some mcre in an under- tere. Nearby passergers began to smile. begged your pardon, didn’t I?” said the other man. “Yes, but my toe hurts just the same,” was the reply in an ugly tone. Then the other man’s dander rose, and in very forcible language he said: “Now, look here. I accidentally stepped on your foot and I apologized for it, if you say another word about it I'll give you -this instead cf my foot (showing his doubled-up fist), and it will land right In your face.” The warning was not taken, for he con- tinued to talk about the clumsiness of some people. Suddenly the passengers were electrified by seeing a fist shoot out, and the growler lay in the street as the car passed on. Nobody said anything, but some thought it wasn’t wise to talk too tuch, ‘Travelers’ tales fil the air these days, and European pilgrims can readily be dis- cerned by the yarlous idioms with which they embellish their conversation, the only difference being that those who have stayed a few days in Paris use French accents and grimaces, while the London resident of a week does the “heavy Engiish.” All, however, unite in making one confession, and that is how MUNYON'S HOMOEOPATHIC REMEDIES. restores lost powers to ted men. Price $1.00. No matter what the disease is many doctors have failed to cure qencsenrr es en et via oe ae ‘unyon’s Cures, and if you are ni fited your money will be they beat the customs regulations of the ccuntries they visited. A member of one party of tourists tells how the souvenir spoon epidemic broke out and raged among the band, es; in passing through the Italian cities, where they were so very beautiful and cheap that one could really not help buying. “But the buying,” continued the 4 “was the smallest part of the monetary transaction, for at every custom house duties out of all proportion to the ot the articles were demanded, until we one and all determined to get the better of such extortion. We kept our spoons in a convenient place, and at the first warn- ing of danger every woman shoved her package of spoons down the neck of her dress, the men following suit, behind their shirt bosoms—‘swallowing spoons,’ we call- ed the performance. “My little son, who accompanied me, was very much disturbed about the ethics of the matter, until one day he came to me and remarked, solemnly, ‘Well, mother, I suppose it is all right for us to swallow cur spoons, for yesterday when we crossed the French frontier I noticed that all the ministers in the party swallowed theirs, too.’ This silenced the whisperings of the tenderest conscience, and we continued te purchase and swallow spoons throughout the rest of our pilgrimage.” Prof. Max Nordau, in his remarkable in- stances of degeneration, has entirely over- looked a most striking example of the doctrine which he promuigates with so much force, and that is the humble po- tato. There was a time when it was re- garded as the most nutritious and healthy article of diet, and to small children and weak invalids alike it was fed with unt versal approval. Now, so has science ad- vanced or degenerated, as the individ may find, the first proscribed article diet after consulting a physician is the potato. “On no account touch a potato,” is the universal dictum of. your doctor, “and sweet potatoes eschew as you would poison, for they are the most indigestible articl of food in the world.” And if you have been brought up, as most every one is, to regard a potato as one of the props of existence you are in a bad way. If Dr. Nordau would kindly diagnose the cavse of the degeneration of the potato as an article of diet he might possibly give the world some valuable information as = the reescn of the wholesale falling off of vigor in the human race which he so ver- bosely deplores. ‘Washington girls are not to be outdone in originality of design in carrying out the latest craze of midsummer. They have their roof gardens, just like all the rest of the world, and, what is more fun, they ar- range them themselves and invite whom they please to enjoy them. The other night @ particularly delightful “roof party,” as it was called, was given by some stay-at- homes, and the charming details are worthy of imitation. . On emerging through the door, which, as a means of entrance, orded a great deal of fun, the fiat tin roof was discovered to be for the first time in its existence a thing of beauty. Over it were spread pretty rugs; flowers and growing plants transformed It into a garden; ham- mocks and easy chairs invited rest and comfort, while the whole was lighted by rows of Japanese lanterns swung in fan- tastic manner, apparently in midair. In the magic of transformation the chimney was not forgotten, for with multitudinous gay cushions piled up around it it formed a support for a divan of oriental luxi and was the favorite spoony corne! throughout the evening. Ices and cooling drinks were served, and, with the tinkl of the mandolin and banjo strumming, il seemed as if the roof garden had reached its height of artistic development. The statue of Lincoln down in front of the city hall ts always a favorite object of interest to the colored people of the com- munity, and the other day when a party, of country cousins were visiting their city relatives one of the first sights to be shown was “Massa Linkum.” As the little row of picaninnies gazed at the countenance of their emancipator, with its prominent cheekbones and well-defined jawbone, one of them plucked hold of his mammy’s dress and said: “Say, mammy,who is dat?” “Dat'’s President Linkum, what made you a free man ‘fore you was bawn,” an- Swered mammy. “But, mammy, he looks so po’;what make him look so po'?” continued her aspiring son, “Sho’, child, ‘cause he bin dade so long,” and the sightseers went over into the park to eat their luncheon. There will soon be an opportunity for some one to write a comic opera with the Island of Trinidad for a name and for the scene of one or two acts, with, perhaps, the other laid in Washington. Trinidad and the count who is just now represent- ing his illustrious highress James I of Trinidad, formeriy Baron Harden-Hickey, together with some of the other characters which have figured prominently in the af- fair, would certainly make an interesting story, and, when set with music and ap- propriate scenery, ought to be equal to the “Isle of Champagne,” which Seabrooke has matie famous. The count has issued com- missions and decorations to Mr. Rouzer of the New York Herald, Mr. Randolph of the New York Times and Mr. Hosford of thé Detroit Free Press, who, so to speak, are enrolled in the great projects of his mas- ter, James I. These men have been dec- orated, knighted, and are now members of the illustrious order of the Knights of Trin- idad, and entitled to wear the cross of his gracious majesty, the ruler of the island. Then, there has already been an appll- cant for the post of minister to Trinidad. This applicant has said in his request for the appointment that if he should be se- lected for the responsible post as minister plenipotentiary and envoy extraordinary to the court of his royal highness, James I, King of Trinidad, he would 80 con- duct himself as tc establish the most friendly relations between other foreign countries and the United States through the distinguished diplomats he would meet at the regal court of James. He should also endeavor to secure the most friendly understanding between the ruler of Trin- idad and the United States, and to form a defensive alliance between the two great nations. “Why, talking about absent-minded people, Jones left his office yesterday placed this notice, ‘Will return in one hour’ on the door. When he came back he down and waited for himself.""—Scribner’s and sat ~~