Evening Star Newspaper, September 16, 1895, Page 11

Storage Warehcuse: 22d st. near M. Our Annoal Furniture Clearance Sale emls September 20. You can't be too quick about buying. Our Annual Furniture Clearance Sale —Affords an unusually rare op- portunity for you to become pos- sessor of some long-wished-for comfortable—or ornamental chair. We've culled a few of the most enticing offerings to be found in our Chair Department. —Reductions of similar propor- tions have been made throughout our mammoth stock. Mahogany Arm Chair. Silk Damask Chair. White Enamel Parlor Overstuffed Sofa, Broeatelle. Mahogany-finish Rocker..... Sold Mahogany Parlor Chair. 9.00 Blue Enamel Corner Chair. 8.85 Arm Chair, Brocatelle. 5.20 Corner Chair, Brocatelle.... 4.85 Parlor, Chair, Mahogany finish. 6.45, .00 Mahogany-finish Window Chair. 6.95 9.00 Side Chair, Brocatelle. 4.00 6.50 Gold Corner Chair. 4.45 4.00 Mahogany-finish Corner Char. 2.97 4.00 White Enamel Tabourette. 275 8.00 Gold Chatr.. Bees ‘ —— MR. HARDIN OF TEXAS. Preacher's Son, Bud, and a Very Straight Shooter. Ei Paso Letter to Globe-Democrat. Constable John Seliman, who put an end Jast night to the earthly career of John Wesley Hardin by shooting the latter through the head, had a preliminary hear- ing this afternoon, when there was a clash of authority between Justice Howe and City Recorder Patterson. Howe had heard the testimony, but Recorder Patterson's officers had charge of the prisoner and turned him loose on his giving bond in the sum of $10,000. Hardin was one of the most notorious eharacters in the west. He was born in Kimball county, Tex., in 1852. His father was a Baptist minister, and lived for many years at Comanche, Tex. Young Hardin at the age of seventeen allied himself with the Taylor brothers in the famous Taylor- Sutton feud, which originated in 1868 in De Witt courty with the killing of old man Sutton by the Taylors. Hardin was a leader of the Comanche ccunty contingent of the Taylor gang. ‘The counties of Comanche, De Witt and Gonzales were the stamping ground of the two factions, and they had many bloody fights, resulting In the killing ef forty men between 1868 and 1874. Har- din is credited with having killed sixteen of the Sutton men in hand-to-hand com- bats at different times. In 1874-5 Hardin and his gang of outlaws terrorized Com- anche county. They would ride into the town of Comanche every night and “shoot it up.” .In the fall of 1874 Deputy Sheriff Webb of Brown county, Tex., went to Com- @nche to arrest one of Hardin’s gang and Hardin killed the officer and defied atrest. He went to Jacksonville, Fla., in the fall of 1875, and was doing a prosperous mar- ket business there, under the assumed name of Swhane, when he was captured in the spring of 1876. He was brought back to Texas, and sent to the penitentiary for twenty-five years for killing Webb. He was pardoned out by Gov. Hogg in Feb- rvary, 184, and immediatély went to Pecos City and became mixed up in the Frazier- Miller fights, and came to El Paso as at- torney for Miller, Hardin having studied law while in jail. He has been into numer- ous rows with the officers in this city. Hardin always wore a mall shirt and was the quickest and best shot in the west with a p‘stol, and always carried two. The Officers feared him, and the citizens of El Paso held him in dread. His body when undressed by the undertaker showed the scars of ten old bullet wounds and two knife wounds. Constable Sellman, who Illed Hardin, has been an officer on the border for many years, and has put an end to the carver of six tough characters. Har- din w buried this afternoon. The wives of Alderman Whitmore and Chief Pow- ers of the fire department, this city, were cousins of the dead man, and he h: a gon somewhere in east Texas. John Wes- Jey Hardin was known to everybody who has l'ved in Texas and New Mexico during the last twenty years. Joe Hardin, a brother of the man killed last night, was lynched by the citizens of Comanche, Tex., in 1878, for.being a brother of the desperado. a od How to Eat Corn at Table. From the Fhiladelphia Inquirer. The old point of etiquette about the Proper method of eating corn is involved this year with the question as to the com- parative wholesomeness of the various ways of consuming the delicious and nour- ishing grain. The old trouble about eating corn from the cob has dissppeared. Nearly every- body is agreed that there is no other way to eat it. Those persons who at one time thought they could not overcome their hor- ror of the spectacle presented by another person holding an ear of corn with two hands and biting out the grains from the space between the hands are now content to insist only that the ear shall be held with but one hand at a time. The conces- n has been forced by the nature of the Sweet or sugar cern, a delicate article of diet, which undergoes great changes in flavor when removed from the cob. There are sections of the country where it is maintained that the ear should not be re- moved from the husks, but that after be- ing stripped of the silk, should be rebound, and cooked in its natural protector, and that thus prepared the grain possesses a deliciousness unknown when cooked in any other manner. The hygienic problem produced by the consumption of table corn grows out of the indigestibility of that hull of the gvain which is removed in the making of hom- iny from maize. The daily papers contain numerous letters from physiclans and other correspondents giving suggestions for the overcoming of the toughness of the hull. One recommends thorough mastica- tion of the grairs, which, breaking the hulls, permits the digestive juices to per- form their work. Stomach and bowel dis- turbances following the consumption of corn are attributed to the passing into the stomach of grains whose hull has not been broken by the teeth. A certain method of breaking the hull of each grain is to pass a knife from one end of the cob to the other along each row of grains. Old people can still further im- Prove upon this device by scraping the ear gently with the back of the knife after each row of grains has been cut. The scraping will squeeze the tender part of the srains out of the hulls, leaving the latter clinging to the cobs. By using one or another of the methods described sugar corn can be corsumed with savety and comfort by almost any person in ordinary good health. = So His Hair Could Grow. m Vearson’s Weekly. Father—"And what would you like to be, when you grow up?’ "d like to be an artist, or a musician, father.” F. ora FF. r (highly gratified). hese are diffi- cult callings, my son. Lut why should you ike to choose one of them?’ Tommy (promptly)—“‘Because then I t my hair cut, father.” sor d to Milk Diet. Would not have to g aria, that beast of a dog of yours must go, She has just bitten a plece out of the calf of my leg.” Maria—“Oh, this is too terrible.” “It is a comfort to have some for once.” ~“I was not thinking of you at all, veterinary surgeon ye jay or- nor Florrie to be restricted to a milk die a THE EVENING STAR, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1895—-TWELVE PAGES. 11 (Copyright 1895 by A. H. Hawkins.) (Continued from Saturday's Star.) CHAPTER IV. At this instant in the room in the gate tower of the castle, overlooking the moat, there had fallen a dead silence. Here Count Nikolas had raised the princess, set her on a couch, and waited till her faint- ness and fright were gone. Then he had come near to her, and in brief, harsh tones told her his mind. For him, indeed, the dice were now cast; he had in his fury and fear dared all. He was caim now, with the calmness of @ man at a great turn of fate. That room, he told her, she should never leave alixe, save as his promised wife, sworn and held to secrecy and silence by the force of that bond and of ker oath. If he killed her, he must die, whether by his own hand or the king’s mattered little. But he would die for a great cause and in “If I hove a fair face it should in- spire fair deeds.” . @ great attempt. “I shall not be called a cheating gamester, madame,” said he, a smile on his pale face. “I choose death sooner than dishonor. Such is my choice. What is yours? It stands between death and silence, and no man but your husband will dare to trust your silence.”” “You dare not kill me, * said she, defiant- ly. “Madame, I dare ‘lo nothing else. They may write murderer on my tomb; they shall rot throw ‘cheat’ in my living face.” “I will net be silent,” cried Osra, spring- ing to her feet. “And rather than be your wife, I would die a thousand ‘times. For a cheat you are—a cheat—a cheat.” And her voice rose, till he feared that she would be heard, if any one chanced to listen, even from so far off in the hall. Yet he made one more effort, seeking to move her by an appeal to which women are not wont to be insensible. “A cheat, yes!” said he. “I, Nikolas of Festenburg, am a cheat. I say it, though no other man shall while I live to hear him. But to gain what stak “Why, my brother's castle of Zend, “I swear to you it was not,” he cried, coming nearer to her. “I did not fear los- ing on that cast, but I could not endure not to win. Not my stake, madame, but yours, lured me to my foul play. Have you your face and yet do not know to what it drives men?" “It I have a fair face, it should inspire fair deeds,” said she. “Do not touch me, sir, do not touch me. I loathe breathing the same air with you or so much us see- ing your face. Aye, and I can dic. E the women of our house know how to die. At her scorn and contempt a great rage came upon him and he gripped the hilt of his sword and drew it from the scab- bard. But she stood still, facing him with calm eyes. Her lips moved for a moment in prayer, but she did not shrink. “I pray you,” said he, in trembling speech, and mastering himself for an in- stant. “I pray you,” and he could say no more. “I will cry your cheating in all Strelsau,” said ghe. “Then commend your soul to God, for in one minute you shall die.” Still she stood motionless; and he began to ccme near to her, his sword now drawn in his hands. And, coming within the dis- tarce from which he could strike her, he paused and gazed into her eyes. She an- swered him with a smile. “Then there was for an instant the utter stillness in the rccm; and in that instant the bishop of Mcdenstein set his foot on the staircase and came running up. On a sudden Osra heard the step, and a gleam flashed in her eye. The count heard it also, and the sword was arrested in its stroke. A smile came on his face. He was glad at the ceming of some one whom he might Kill in fight; for it turned him sick to butcher her, unresisting. Yet he dared not ‘et her go to cry his cheating in the streets of Streslau. The steps came nearer. He dropp2d_ his sword upon the floor and sprang upon her. A shriek rang out, but he pressed his hand on her mouth and seized her in his arms. She had no strength to resist, and he car- ried her swiftly across the room to a door in the wall. He pulled the Jjoor epen—it was very massive and heavy—and he flung her roughly down on the stone floor of a little chamber, square and lofty, having but one small window, high up, through which the moonlight scarcely pierced. She fell with a moan of pain. Unheeding he turned on his heel and shut the door. And as he turned he heard a man throw him- self against the door of the room. It also was strong; and twice the man flung him- self with all his ferce against it. At last it strained and gave way; and the bishop of Medenstein burst into the room, breath- lees. And he eaw no trace of the princess’ preserce, but only Count Nickolas stand- ing, sword in hand, in front of the door in the wall, with a sneering smile on his facer The bishop of Modenstein never loved to speak afterward of what followed, saying always that he rather deplored than slor- fed in it, and that when a man of his sacred profession was forced to use the weapons of this world it was a matter of grief to him, not of vaunting. But the king compelled him by urgent requests to describe the whole matter, while the prin- cess was never weary of telling 1ll that she knew or of blessing all bishops for the sake of the bishop of Modenstein. Yet the bishop blamed himself, perhaps, if the truth were known, not for the necessity that drove him to what he did, as for a secret and ashamed joy that he detected in himself. For certainly, as he burst into the room now, there was no sign of reluc- tance or of unwillingness in his face; he took off his feathered cap, bowed politely to the count, and, resting the peint of nis sword on the floor, asked: “My jord, where is the princess?’ “What do you want here, and who are you?” cried the count with a blasphemous oath. vhen we were boys together, you knew Fredrick of Hentzau. Do you not now know the bishop of Modenstein?” “Bishop! This is no place for bishops. Get back to your preyers, my lord.” “It wants some time yet before matins,” answered the bishop. “My lord, where is the princess?” “What lo you want with her?” “I am here to escort her wherever it may be her pleasure to go.” He spoke con- fidently, but he was in his heart alarmed and uneasy because he had not found the prince “I do not know where she is,” said Niko- las of Festenburg. Mode y lord, you lie,” ein. The count had wanted nothing but an excuse for attacking the intruder. He had it now, and an angry flush mounted in his said the bishop of ’ cheeks as he walked across to where the bishop stood. Shifting his sword to his left hand, he struck the bishop on the face with his gloved hand. The bishop smiled and turned the other cheek to Count Nik- olas, who struck him again with all his force, so that he reeled back, catching hold of the open door to avoid falling; and the blood started dull red under the skin of his face. But he still smiled, and he bowed saying: “I find nothing about the third blow in Holy Scripture.” At this instant the Princess Osra, who had been half stunned by the violence with which Nikolas had thrown her on the floor, came to her full senses, and, hearing the bishop's voice, she cried out loudly for help. He, hearing her, darted in an instant &cross the room and was at the door of the little chamber before the count could stop him. He pulled the door open and Osra sprang out to him, saying: ‘Save me! Save me!” “You are safe, madame, have no fear,” answered the bishop. And, turning to the count, he continued, “Let os go outside, my lord, and discuss this matter. Our dis- pute will disturb and perhaps alarm the princess.” And a man might have read the purpose in his eyes, though his manner and words were gentle; for he had sworn in his hart that the count should not escape. But the count cared as little for the pres- ence of the princess as he had for her dig- nity, her honor, or her life; and now that she was no longer wholly at his mercy, but there was a new chance that she might es- cape, his rage and the fear of exposure lashed bim to fury; and, without more talking, he made at the bishop, crying: “You first and then her! I'll be rid of the Pair of you!” The bishop faced him, standing between Princess Osra and his assault; while she shrank back a little, sheltering herself be- hind the heavy door. For, although she had been ready to die without fear, yet the sight of men fighting frightened her, and she veiled her face with her hands, and ‘waited in dread to hear the sound of their Swords clashing. . ut the bishop looked very happy, and setting his cap on his head with a jaunty air, he stood on guard. For ten years or more he had not used his sword, but the secret of its mastery seemed to revive, fresh and clear in his mind, and let his soul ‘say what it would, his body re- Joiced to be at the exercise again; so that his blood kindled and his eyes gleamed in the glee of strife. Thus he steped forward, guarding himself, and thus he met the count’s impetuous onset; and he neither flinched nor gaye back, but finding himself holding his own he pressed on and on, not violently attacking and yet never resting, and turning every thrust with a wrist of fron. And while Osra gazed with wide eyes and close-held breath, and Count Nikolas muttered oaths and grew more furious, the bishop seemed as gay as when he talk- ed to the king, more gaily, maybe, than bishops should. Again his eye danced ‘as'| in the days when he had ‘been called the “wildest of the Hentzaus.” And still he drove Count Nikolas back and back. Now behind the count was a window which he had himself caused to be enlarged ard made low and wide, in order that he might look from it over the surrounding country, but in time of war it was covered with a close and strong iron grating. But now the grating was off and the window open; and beneath this window was a fall of seventy feet or hard upon it into the moat below. The count looked into the bishop's face and saw him smile, and suddenly he recollected the window and fancied that it was the bishcp’s design to drive him on to it so that he, could give back no more; and, since he knew by now that the bishop was his master with the sword, a des- pairing rage settled upon him, and, de- termining to die swiftly since die he must, he rushed forward, making a desperate lunge at his enemy. But the bishop parried the lunge, ard, always seeming to be about to run the count through the body, again forced him to retreat, till his back was close to the cpering of the window. Here Nikolas stood, his eyes glaring like a madman’s; then a sudden devilish smile spread over his face. “Will you yield yourself, my lord?” cried the bishop, putting a restraint on the wick- ed impulse to kill the man, and lowering his point for an instant. In that short moment the count made his last throw; for all at once, as it seemed, and almost in one motion he thrust and wounded the bishop in the left side of his bedy, high in the chest near the shoulder, and, though the wound was slight, ‘he blood flowed freely; then, drawing ‘back his sword, he seizal it by the blade half way up and flung it Mke a javelin at the princess, who stood still by the door, breathlessly watching the fight. By an ace it missed her head, and it pinned a tress of her hair to the door and quivered deepset in the wood of the door. When the bishop Ace It Missed Her Head. of Modgnstein saw this, hesitation and mercy passed out of his heart, and though the man hal now no weapon, he thought of sparing him ro more than he would have spared any cruel and savaze beast; he drove his sword into his body, and’ the count, not being able to endure the thrust without flinching, against his own will gave way before it. Then came from his lips a loud cry of dismay and despair, for at the same moment that the sword was in him he, staggering back, fell wounded to death through the open window. The bishop looked out after him, and Princess Osra heard the sound of a’ great splash in the water of the mcat below. For very horror she sank against the door, seeming to be helq up more by the sword ‘that had pinned her hair than by her own strength. Then came up through the window, from which the bishop still looked with a strang2 smile, the clatter of a hundred feet running to the gate of the castle. The bridge was let down; the confused sound of many men talking, of whispers, of shouts and of cries of horror, mounted up through the alr. For the couni’s men in the hail also had heard the splash, and run out to see what it was; and there they beheld the body of their master dead in the inoat; and their eyes were wide open an they could hard- ly lay their tongues to the words as they pointed at the body and whispered to one another, very low, “The bishop has killed him—the bishop has killed him.” But the bishop saw them from the window and leant out, crying: “Yes, I have killed tim. So perish all such villains!” = ‘And when they looked up and saw iri the moonlight the bishop's face, they were amazed. ‘But he hastily drew’ his head in, so that they might not see him any more. For he knew that his face had been flerce and exultant and joyful. ‘Then dropping his sword, he ran across to the princess and drew the count’s sword that was wet with his own blood out of the door, releasing the princess’ hair; and seeing that she was very faint he put his arm about her and led her to the couch, and she sank down upon it, trembling and vhite as her white gown and murmuring, “Fearful, fearful!” and she clutched his arm and for a long while she would not let him go, and her eyes were fixed on the count’s sword, that lay on the floor by the entrance of the little room. (To be concluded on Tuesday.) By cn |PROFESSOR RILEY’S DEATH He Never Recovered Oonsciousness After His Tergible Fall. Eminent as an Batomologist, Whose Practical Investigations Benefited Agriculturist} Everywhere. Prof. C. V. Riley, who was thrown from his bicycle Saturday ‘morning at the corner of Connecticut avenue and 16th street, died at midnight of the’satne day from the in- juries he received without regaining con- sciousness. The force of his terrible fall fractured his skull at the base of the brain. In the death of Prof. Riley practical sci- ence loses one of its most original investi- gators and entomology its most brilliant and successful exporent. Prof. Riley was an Englishman, having been born in Chelsea, London. He was ed- ucated in France and Germany, and early displayed a remarkable aptitude for both ratural history and art. He carried off the first prizes in drawing at Dieppe, in France, ard Bonn, in Germany, but withstood the advices of his instructors to follow art as a profession and devoted himself to the prac- tical and exhaustive investigation of insect life and its disastrous effects upon agricul- ture and the determination as to the means by which such ravages could be prevented. He came to America to follow his chosen craft, and settled on a farm near Chicago. When the war broke cut he enlisted as a private in the 134th Illinois volunteers and served as such from 1861 to 1865. In 7868 he was appointed state entomologist of Missouri, and there began a career which quickly attracted the attention of scientists and agricultural econemists throughout the civilized world. He was the first to examine and report upon the characteristics of the various insects so common and fatal to cul- tivated fields, and rapidly gained a reputa- tion for absolute accuracy in his conclu- sions regarding them, When the locusts swept through the western states during the seventies Prof. Riley proceeded to their study, end his reports upon their habits and history resulted in the creation by Congress of a commission to investigate the pests. This body consisted of Prof. Riley, Prof. Cyrus Thomas and Dr, A. 8, Packard. While superintending the publication of the first report of the commission in 1878, Prof, Riley was made the entomologist cf the agricultural bureau by coramissioner Le Due. He resigned after a while to take the superintendency of the cotton commission, but returned to his position in June, 1881, where he remained until a year ago, when he tendered his resignation, and devoted himself to private work in a line with his profession. He was the inventor of the Riley system of nozzles, universally used for spraying insecticides, and almost every preparation now holding favor with agri- culturalists for the purpose of preventing the ravages of insect pests are made from formulae advised by him. He was a ready and voluminous writer in his field, and his reperts, articles and books number nearly two thousand. He’ was the founder and first president of the Entomologist Society of Washingtcn, one of, the founders of the Biological Society, a member of the Ameri- can Agricultural lety, the Association of Scientific Agriculturists, the Philo- sophical and Anthtopological societies of this city, end a fellow of the American Philosophical Society, the American Asso- elation for the Advancement of Science and a number of others. For his eminent serv- ices in the study of the great phylloxera he was presented, by;the French govern- ment in 1873 with.a gold medal struck in his honor, and in 1884 he received the gold medal of the international exhibition of forestry, held at Eilinburgh, Scotland. He was honorary curator of the section of entomology in thé National Museum, and had presented to that jnstitution one of the most valuable entomological collections in the world. Prof. Riley, while completely devoted to his life work, was peculiarly free from anything like a hobby. He was socially popular, a member of several clubs, among others, the Cosmos. It was in his domestic relations that he was happiest. His devo- tion to the children and wife was the sub- ject of pleasant remark even among those who were strangers to them, and merely saw the superficial eviderices of it. Funeral services will be held tomorrow afternoon at 2 o'clock at his late residence, 2135 Wyoming avenue. —_—.__ ABOUT THE FIREPLACE. The Symbol of Hospitality and .Its Various Expressions, From the Ladies’ Home Journal. The motto, whose revival ig noted, is the expression in architecture of some senti= ment suitable to the place to which it is applied and eternal in its significance. It is more frequently and more noticeably in domestic architecture than elsewhere that the motto is found. Scarcely a country house of sufficient size to boast a hall and fireplace but announces in script or text a welcome to all guests or some appreciation of the comforts of its four walls. The fa- vorite place for this motto is over the fire- place, either abeve or below the mantel shelf, and of all the old ones, “East or west, home Is best,” with its variety ef ex- pressions, is the favorite. “A man’s house is his castle;” “Home is the resort Of love, of joy, of peace;” “A man's best things are neares' “Our house Is ever at your service are very welcome;” ‘‘Take the goods the gods provide thee.” Any one of these will as apprcpriately welcome the stranger as the friend. “Be thou familiar” is a striking welcome, and the first phrase of Captain Cuttle’s fa- mous toast, “May we never want a friend,” is also inspiring. It is said that in the hall of Mark Twain’s home at Hartford, Conn., the following is graven over the fireplace: “The ornament of a house is the guests who frequent it.” The scriptural, “O! ye fire and heat, bless ye the Lord,” has been used also over a fireplace with appropriate effect. Latin phrases are frequently used. A great favorite is: “Omne meum est autem tuum,” which is easily translated as “All mine is thine.'* “Deus nobis haec otia fecli" is also ap- propriate—“God has given us this ease.” “Nullus est locus domestica sede jucun- dior’—“No place is more delizatful than one’s own fireside”—is equally effectiva. The space over library doors’ and win- dows, as well as over the fireplace, Is also used for the inscribing of suitable senti- ments. Some few that are appropriate for this purpose are: “There is an art of read- ing,” “The monuments of vanished minds,” “Infinite riches in a Mttle recom," “Some books are to be tasted, others to be swal- lowed and some few to be chewed and di- gested.” The inscription, “Médicine for the soul,” which was found over the door of the Ii- brary at Thebes, should be used over the entrance to every library. Over the fire- place might be placed iwith effect: “Old wood to burn, Old friends to trust, Old authors fo read.” Another favorite’ pldce for such inscrip- tions is the nursery fireplace. Mother Goose rhymes are| frequently used for this purpose. Pope's familiar ccuplet, “Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law, Pleased with a raitle, tickled with a straw,” is also successfully used. “God rest ye, little children,” and “A child in a house fs a welt spting of pleasure” are also favorites. ji Over a dining room buffet there has been engraved, “Now good digestion wait on ap- petite.” In a music room the walls bear, “Music is said to be the speech of angels,” “The hidden soul of harmony” and count- less other suitable devices. And so it goes—scarcely a room in any house but might properly bear some senti- ment of welcome or advice. —— see —_—__ His Son’s Identity. From Tid-Bits. “Augh-waugh!” It was the baby. He had repeated the re- mark sixty times in the last hour. Mr. Newleigh’s hair, such as it was, stood on end. “Gwow ahwb wowbdgow filwaugh!” addea the baby, while people living across the street got up and closed their windows. Mr. Newleigh ground bis teeth. “To think,” he groaned, burying his face in the pillows, “that I should grow up to become the father of a railway porter!” AFFAIRS IN ALEXANDRIA A Narrow Escape of 9 Young Horseback Rider. Other Local Notes of General and Special Interest—In the Mayor's Court. Little Willie Brawner, a son of Mr. Wm. Brawner, had a very narrow escape from death yesterday, near the intersection of King and Peyton streets. He was out ex- ercising a horse and stepped near that point to converge with a friend, when his horse became frightened at a passing carriage and wheeled and started to run. Brawner lost his balance and fell from the horse with his right foot cauxht in the stirrup. Fortunately Officer Lyles was standing about thirty feet off and right in the horse's course. He grabbed the bridle and jerked the horse up and extricated the boy from his perilous position. Brawner escaped with a few bruises and a badly twisted leg, but was extremely fortunate at that, as a hundred feet further, had zhe horse not been stopped, his brains would undoubtedly have been dashed out on the rough cobble stones, Death of a Clerk, Mr. W. T. Kimmell, who has been a clerk in the Southern railroad office for some time, died at his residence on Prince street yesterday, after a long illness of typhoid fever. Mr. Kimmell was about twenty- eight years old and had made many friends during his residence in this city. He was a native of Winston-Salem, N. C., and kis remains will be carried there for interment, - Mayor's Court. Mayor Thompson disposed of the following cases this morning: John and Coleman Cashen, Wm, Thomas and William and: Arthur Jackson, smail colored boys, were charged by Joseph Movre with assaulting his little son. The Jack- sons were dismissed, and Thomas and the Cashens were fined $2.50 each, Daniel Girts, colored, was charged by Hester Carroll with breaking into her house late Saturday night and attempting to as- sault her. He was fined $5 for each offense and costs, amounting in all to $12, in de- fault of which he will go to the chain gang for ninety days. 5 A young man named Downey was charged by Jas, Clift with assault. Clift did not appear and the case was postponed until 7 o'clock tonight. A number of people were charged with mainteining nuisances on theif premises. Most of them had had them remedied since they were summoned on Saturday, and the others were crdered to do so at once. Vicious Negro Boys. Mr. Joseph Moore carried his family out for a drive yesterday and his little son ac- companied them, mounted on a pony. As they came down Franklin street, on the edge of town, the little fellow rode some distance ahead of the carriage, and several negro boys, evidently thinking he was alone, made an attack on him with sticks and stones. The pony was badly frightened at the licks he received, and as the boy whipped the animal up to get out of reach he had a narrow escape from being hit by a stone thrown by one of the negroes. They were arrested, and this morning three of them were fined by Mayor Thompson. Notes, Dr. Laurefce Stabler is expected home from Europe the latter part of this week. Mr. Lysle Gillis has accepted a position in the Roanoke machine works and left last night to take charge of It. Mr. Wythe White of the Bell Te! Company is in Occoquan on business. ——_—_ * * ALCOHOL AND LONGEVITY. phone On the Face of Them Statistics Do Not Give Much Comfort to Abstainers. From the Boston Transeript. We have not the figures at hand, but it was shown by life iasurance statistics pub- lished in Great Britain a few years ago that total abstainers from intoxicating drinks were shorter lived than the moderate drink- ers among policy holders; and now comes the International Medical Association with sta- tistics In the same direction, but more startling. The association has made care- ful inquiry into 5,234 cases of deaths of persons of over thirty-five years of age, end of all callings, which were divided into five groups—total abstainers, moderate drinkers, drinkers who were careful not to drink too much, heavy drinkers, and ex- cessive drinkers. The investigation showed that the age reached in these five classes was always the shortest with total abstain- ers; that they were shorter lived even than the excessive drinkers. With regard to wine drinkers the results were: Moderate drinkers, 63 years; heavier but careful drinkers, 58 years; intemperate drinkers, 55 years; excessive drinkers, 52 years; ab- stainers, 50 years, It has been said that statistics can be made to prove anything you want to prove; but in this instance, as well as in the in- surance figures, they seem to prove what these collecting the statistics had no inten- tion or desire to prove. It does not neces- sarily follow, however, that the use of in- toxicants, even moderately, is conducive to longevity. The statistics only show that, with a good constitution at the outset, one may attain to more advanced age than is reached by a person of feeble physique, though the latter be a total abstainer; for we. think ft will be found from observation and inquiry that a very large proportion of the abstainers are abstainers because they saw in early life that they were not physicaily strong enough to wrestle with King Alcohol, and another large class of nen-drinkers are the sons of drinking parents, whose sins, as well as their de- terring example, have descended to their children, and so shortened the latter’s lives. The statistics quoted are misleading, in- asmuch qs they do not show what the state of the health of each class was in early life, and especially because they do not tell anything as to the habits of the parents of the individuals in the several classes. A man may drink to excess, may be intoxicated regularly every day, and yet livesto be an old man, but it will gen- erally be found that his offspring are feeble, if not sickly, and of short life, not- withstanding they never drink a drop of intoxicating liquor from first to last. Statistics are potent helps toward the solution of great social problems, but when they seem to prove what is against com- mon experience and against common sense ie 3 best not to trust in them too confid- rely. The Biter Bit. From Peareon’s Weekly. In a Pullman car on the Manchester, Sheftield and Lincolnshire railway the other week a young traveler noticed an old, white- bearded gentleman trying to get into a light dust coat. The young man rushed to his assistance, and in helping him with the gar- ment noticed a good-sized whisky flask pro- truding from one of the pockets. Being of a waggish nature, he appropriated the bot- tle, helped the stranger on with his coat, and then pulling out the flask said, ‘Will you take a drink?” The old man did not recognize the bottle, and drawing himself up remarked rather severely: ‘No, sir, I never drink.” It won't hurt you,” insisted the wag; “it's the best.” “Young man,” said the old gentleman, speaking loud enough for all in the carriage to hear, “if you persist in drinking whisky you will be a ruined man at forty. It is the curse of the land. When I was a boy my mother died, and the last thing she did was to call me to her bedside and’ say: ‘John, promise me that you will never touch a drop of liquor.'’”” “Oh, well, in that case," said the joker, “I must drink it myself,” whereupon, suit ing the action to the words, he pulled the cork out and took a good drink. A moment later he dropped the bottle with an exclamation which certainly didn’t sound like a blessing, and yelled out: “Ugh! ugh! my mouth's ali raw!” Then it was the old gentleman discovered his loss, and to the amusement of the other passengers said: “Ah, young man, you wHl be careful in future before you take other people's property. I am Dr. and that bottle contained some quinine and iron for one of my patients.” The young man got out at the next sta- tion. a THEY ARE AGAINST THEM{}THE RULE OF THE ROAD Melba and Bernhardt Dislike Knicker- | Why Americans Kesp to the Right and bockers. Beth Think They Are Horrid, Bernbardt Says It is Immoral, Yet Bernhardt Once Wore Trousers. From the Boston Herald. It is the least little bit diverting to read in the letters of the various foreign corre- spondents that both Nellie Melba and Sarah Bernhardt are violently opposed to donning knickerbockers in any form by women who will ride the wheel, or, for that matter, to the wearing of any imitation of the male attire by women. Mme. Melba ts quoted by one writer as saying: “I abhor masculine costume for women. It is ugly, and I have, on the stage, even, never consented to wear it. I add that I never will wear it, without, how- ever, blaming other actresses who have not the same dislike as I for it. That will ex- plain to you how wounded I feel in my artistic and feminine preferences when I see women dress themselves as they do.” ‘Then Mme. Melba, after stating that she does not care for the bicycle, states that the necessities of conveniently riding the machine are simply a pretext. “It is less,” she adds, “for motives of convenience than for more mysterious reasons that the skirt is sacrificed for the ample trousers.”” Now, of course, to one who knows Mme. Melba this does not sound In the least like her, but, eccepting it as a true report of her words, it is wondered if she has for- gotten that she sang “Rigoletto,” or what she calls the attire she wore in the last act with its tights and tunic? It is true that she k®pt herself well draped in her long black mantle, but there were moments when for a brief flash the drapery was dropped and the straight, well-rounded fig- ure stood out against the long black cape hanging down behind, and those who saw ber in the role in Boston the only time she eppeared in it here will recall one capital exit, where she flew across the stage with the long black drapery floating behind her. Perhaps Melba regrets singing Gilda, and hopes it.will be forgotten, and yet, in spite of the fact that she was not in good voice when she was heard in it here, the violent enthusiasm with which she was greeted was hardly likely to make her give it up. No, one can only suppose that the inter- viewer did not take the singer down just right, or that dear Mgjba is forgetful. Again, one would lik® to know just what she means by the “mysterious reasons” that women have for putting on the ample trousers. Some of us have thought that there was a mystery in the impulse that led women to don that form of male attire, and an equally mysterious reason which induced other women to don trousers that were not ample. For if you watch the crowd that spins over toward the entrance to the fens at dusk every evening you will rote that it will almost invariably be the slight, straight, girlish figure that is: at tired either in the short skirt or the full treusers, while the figure that is most strikingly feminine—broad of hips, full of bust—will be noted in the few skin-tight fits that are out. All things considered, Bernhardt is equal- ly amusing. Harold Frederick states that she is more vehement on the subject than any one who was interviewed. ‘She is vio- lently opposed to trousers on women for any purpose, and bases her strong objec- tions on “moral grounds." Seems to have imbibed hep present spirit from her visits to America. It really is a pity that Sarah did not visit us when she was young. Still she is not quite logical when she says that in her visits both to the states and to England she has seen too much of the re- sults of giving indiscriminate liberty to girls to wish to see the French maiden subjected to the same dangers. Evidently Sarah also is forgetful. What about that famous attire for her atelier in the days when sculpture was the fad of the great French actress and famous men Were quite willing to guide the slender hand to results that were hailed as most promising? Did she not needlessly wear male attire then? Was she not photograph- ed some eighteen, and possibly moré, years ago, in this dress, which was white and consisted of perfectly plain straight trous- ers, small in the leg, as was the fashion of the male attire at that time,with a straight double-breasted pea jacket buttoned to her neck, which was encirsled by a fluff of lace? At that time Mme. Bernhardt used to re- ceive her friends, and even interviewers, in that attire, of which she was very fond. The photogra taken of her thus habited were for some years shown in all the Paris shop windows exposed for sele, and even brought to this country, while no enter- prising newspaper writer thought he had quite done with Sarah, at the time when the papers both here and abroad were filled with interviews of her, jokes about her, anecdotes that were quaint, queer, and impossible, or humorous, according to the author—all preparatory for her first American tour—until he had seen a repro- duction of one of these pictures in his pa- per. Has Bernhardt forgotten all this? Does she not remember the great number of newspaper people that she received in that attire in the days when she was living ia the house she designed in the Avenue de Villiers? But, cf course, that was all be- fore she had 2ome to the states, and ob- served the American girl, and then, Sarah is a woman who believes, . evidently, that she can do as she pleases, and seca people should do as pleases her, also. How just speaking of all this carries one back to the Bernhardt of other days; the days when Claron painted her picture with her hound beside her; that long, lithe fig- ure reclining in a pillow of lace in the cor- ner of the couch, which was facetiously called in Paris “the dog and the bone.” The days when Bastien Lepage painted her in profile sitting bolt upright, as if a ram- rod was up her back, were a little later and were still of the period when Sarah was uniquely thin, It is an epoch, by the way, that dates from about 1869 to after that first visit to America. Fer Sarah was never just the same after she saw the possibilities of money-making in this broad land of theeter-going people. It was Math- feu-Meusnier who, in- 1869, inspired her with that taste for achievements in art, of which America seems to have cured her, for, although her first visit was heralded by an art exhibit, neither uninteresting nor, considering it as the work of an ac- tress who had achieved fame in her own art, was it discreditable as an effort in another art. But did any one ever hear much about Sarah’s art achievements after that? How He Made Bells Ring. From Tid-Bits. : Recently, at one of our large hotels, while @ party were holding sn argument on the subject of spiritualism, one young fellow expressed his belief that there was some- thing in it, as he himself was a sort of a “medium.” “How a medium?” inquired one of the speakers. “Why,” replied the wag, “I can do a good many mysterious things; for instance, I can make a bell ring without touching it.” The other offered to wager that he couldn’t. The wag persisted, and said that he would lay him five pounds he could make at least a dozen of the bells in the passage ring within two minutes, without leaving his seat. “Done,” exclaimed the skeptic, and the money was staked. The young fellow turned round on his seat, opened a closet door, and turned off the gas from the upper part of the build- ing. In less than one minute half the bells in the passage began to ring violently, the ee above having lost their lights. And $0, of course, the money was fairly won. +o+ Seon Managed It, From Tid-Bits. : A Liverpool merchant recently went to his head clerk and said: “John, I owe about £10,000, and all I pos- sess is £4,000, which is locked up in the safe. I have been thinking that this is the right time to make an assignment, but what plausible pretext I can give my cred- itors I know not. You have plenty of brains; think the matter over, and let me know your decision in the morning.” The clerk promised to do so. On entering the office next morning the merchant found the safe open, the money gone and in its place a letter, which read as follows: : “I have taken the £4,000 and have gone to South America. It is the best excuse you can give your creditors.” Englishmen to the Left of the Boad, Condition of the Ronds<If Our High- ways Were Different We Might Well Adopt the British Method. From the New York Herald. In America the rule of the road is al- ways to keep to the right. In England, on the contrary, the unwritten law declares that the left is the side to be taken. How this divergence is to be explained has puz- zled many persons. It would be folly to suppose that the variation was caused by any reason less substantial than real necessity. The En- &lish rule has existed from time immemor- ial, and an arbitrary alteration would have cccasioned extreme and altogether needless confusion. Those who introduced the change into this country were the first settlers in New England—persons who were habituated to the ancient order,persons who would never have dreamed of a revolt against it, de- spite the rebellious spirit lurking secretly in their blood. They made the change for the simple reason that careful driving de- manded it. Influence of Good Roads. Since the time when the Romass billt their magnificent roadways in “the fur- thermost isles of the sea’! the Britons have enjoyed good roads. The driver naturally sits at the right end of his seat, where he has the free use of his right hand, while the reins swing clear. Sitting in that posi- tion the hub of his right forewheel is just beneath his vye. It is where he can best see it, and as he follows the Einglish rule, keeping to the left, if he be timorous, it is easy for him to be sure that he is a yard from the threatening hubs of any passerby. If ne be a Cockney Jehu he can deftly skim by the other vehicle with never @ bit of space to spare. On those crowded roads there is need of care in passing, lest the hurrying wagons come in collision, But the roads are broad and emooth, ang he would be a fool, or blind, who drove Gangerously off the road. Were the En- glish driver io turn to the richt in pass- ing he would be obliged to sit at the left end of his seat, or else, sitting on the right, he would net have before his eyes that Projecting hub which is the danger point for collision. The case is altogetHer different in this country. The cowlike manner in which In- dians pursued their way has given a name to that method of movement, known as Irdian file, and that habit of the aborigines seems to have exerted a disastrous in- fitence on the white men who conquered them. How else can we adequately ex- Plain the atrocious fashion in which gen- eration after generation of otherwise intel- ligent and forceful men up and down this republic have made roads which at the best can be driven over only in Indian file, and with never a shunting place? Our Bad Highways. These blessed states are notorious and execrable for vile highways. In some neighbornods there are roads, but the bulle of the country is latticed with preposter- ous shams. That this bad quality of the roads was greater. although excusable then, in“the early days of colonization is apparent. There were stumps, holes and boulders in the roads. There were ravines often enough at either hand. When travelers from opposite directions met in that period the driver recked little of clashing hubs, but he looked sharp to escape a mishap in the ditch. It was then natural that, as he saw a team approach- ing, he should turn out on that side where his position allowed him to observe more carefully—the right. From that the cus- tom grew, and by its simplicity and reason- ableness naturally superseded the older law. As in most things, the environment, when it had made change necegsary, caused the change to come to pass. Let the man who does not credit this ex- Pianacion- take a drive over a Vermont cross-road that can be found where the way runs close to a cliff and no turning to the righi is possible. He will find that when he meets a loaded wagon and must yield the road, turning into the gaping ditch on the left, he will slip to the left end of his seat very swiftly in order that he may keep a keen eye on the exact route of his outside wheels. The trial will convince him that he must sit and turn out on the same side. If he be a driver he must know that he has an edvantage at the right end of his seat which the left does not afford. That the English system is the better for good roads there can be no doubt. That it could be adopted in tne United States generally is impcssible until the lawmakers and the roadmakers produce worthy high- ways. Doubtless, in the case of that millen- nial event, the change would be subtly wrought by its own merit. ——__+e+—____ Dug Up a Jar Containing Old Coin, From the Philadelphia Ledger. Thomas Moore, jr., and two ether work- men, wiile excavating for pipe connections at Market Square, in Chester, Pa., on Thursday morning, unearthed a small pre- serving jar, containing gold and silver Spanish coin, estimated to be worth at least $150. Some of the coin bore the date of 1800, and other pieces a later date. An old market house, erected in the last century, stood on the site where the money was found, and it was torn down in 1857. It thought the money was buried by one the marketmen. ———+e+_____ Spectacles the Desideratum, From the Indianapolis Journal. The little Boston boy was so plainly puffed up with juvenile vanity that the visitor noticed it. “Robert seems unusually: proud today,” she said. “Ye: 8," the fond mother answered, “he on his first pair of spectacles.” ——_+e+______ In Length. From the Detroit Tribune. “Oh, yes,” rejoired the Giraffe, blushing at the comp!iment, “I know I have a great deal of taste. I am built that way, don’t you know! Yes.” She explained, in flustration, that it tools the ice cream soda she was eating some- thirg lke twenty-five seconds to reach its destination, and her relish was consequent- ly indeed extensive. Jofant Healtb SENT FREE 1 eater of ves penta ete, MILK entitled “INFANT HEALTH.” bein every NEW YORK CONDENSED MILK CO., 71 ‘Street, New York, That Old Adage, “He who steals my purse steals trash,” Must have origi- + nated because of the poor, trashy Purses made in those days. Surely TOPHAM’S PURSES were then un- known. Happily not so now. This style we make in many graces and leathers. Those at 68c., 75¢., 98c. and $1.25 Are beauties and made for wear as well. TOPHAITS Fine Leather Goods, it Manufactory, 1231 Pa. Ave