Subscribers enjoy higher page view limit, downloads, and exclusive features.
THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. (Copreight, 189 (Continued from Frida CHAPTER III.—CONTINUED. A mob instantly filled the street before the building and a scene of indescribable tumult and excitement ersued. Policemen came running, ambulances were rung for, rumors flew about that many were crushed in the ceilar. In the midst of it all, a clear, calm voice, above the heads of the surging, vociferous crowd, called, “Out of the way, please,” and looking up they saw Just over them John Burroughs, who had slid down a dangling rope, with one coil of it as a brake on his leg, as trapeze per- formers descerd in a circus. They made way for him, and he, alighting, pushed through to the superintendent and reported placidl “It is No. 207 D, that is wanted.” , by Bacheller, J ING When John Burroughs realized that he was, temporarily at least, a poor man, he resolved to learn something practical, by which he could not only support himself with a feeling of independence, but- even rise in the world through his own exer- tions. He had a good college education, but that was worth little in the battle of life, except as mental training for learning things of real use. The “learned prof sions’—refuges for the lazy and incom- petent genteel—did not tempt him; he had neither liking nor capital for mercantile speculation. A “trade” presented itself to his mind as the desirable thing, some good sort of honest, skilled labor, productive of something useful to humanity and likely to be in permanent demand. And of ail the trades that even the census takers have found out, none suited him so well as iron working, particularly that branch of it now so important in our large citfes, the con- struction of buildings. To this he resolved to devote himself. Believing in “knowing from the ground up” anything he sought to learn, he com- menced his new career as a day laborer in the foundry of the great “Vulcan works,”” wheeling sand and cleaning cast- ings. At the same time, with an eye to some day becoming an employer, he deem- ed this an opportune time for acquiring thorough knowledge of the class of toilers among whom he had cast his lot, and to this end went to live in a mechanics’ boarding house. Men could not expect much: of the comforts of life for $5 per week, the rate paid there, but would have been justified in disappointment at what was actually afforded in that establish- ment. Its only abundances were dirt and foul air. Within a fortnight, his quick observation and alert inteiligence made him a valuable helper,” and in w little time more he had so far mastered the details of iron-found- ing, as practiced in that foundry, that though still only ranking and paid as a laborer, he was really doing the work of a skille] molder. He had been at this a couple of months, when one day he elec- trified the foreman by calling his atten- tion to the inferior quality of a new lot of “pigs,” the first melting from which had just been made. Clearly and with tech- nical accuracy he stated the defective chemical composition of the Iron, by rea- son of which castings made from it would fall at least 10 per cent below the mini- mum of strength they should possess. Not another among the thirty molders of the foundry, all supposably skillful men, had, or could have, made that discovery, the correctness of which was readily proved. When asked how he, a laborer, came to know so much about iron, he modestly re- plied that he had “picked up a little about it in college.”” ‘That incident gave him a new standing, for not oniy the foreman, but his emple ers—to whom grateful and appreciative. he wished to gain a knowledge of the iron busin in all its departmen they en- couraged and in a short time aided him, by a transfer to the rolling mill, where he speedily learned the making of steel gir- ders, beams, etc. Then an incident, need- less to relate, but fortuitous as that which gave him distinction in the foundry, brought out the fact that he was a good mechanical draughtsman, with evidences of taste as a designer, and he was pro- moted to the “drawing” room. Here he remained until, in an emergency, he was called upon to essay the duties of assist- ant foreman in the actual construction of @ great steel frame building, and that was the point he had reached when Constance Dessine found him. All this progress he had achieved in one year, so he had certainly done well with the industrial half of this problem; but as much could not be said for the so- cial half of it. He did not get alorg well at the mechanics’ bearding house. Insen- Constance. sibly he grew to realize that he was sur- rounded by an atmosphere of distrust, an- tagon! and even malice, the inspiring force of which was a man known as Herr Janovics. If Janovics did any work it was in some nocturnal industry he did not care to avow, but he always had money to pay his board and buy his beer. His days were spent in sleep; his evenings in frenzied denunciation of the “blood-sucking capitalists,’ jere- miads over “down-trodden labor,” and fiery advocacy of “the communistic distribution of wealth.” When his fellow boarders went to bed he sauntered out. Several times John Burroughs hai amused himself by worsting ghe feliow in debate, for which, of course, Janovies hated him’ bitterly, and did all possible to prejudice the minds of the others against him, denouncing him, in his absence, as a “capitalistic spy” and “traitor to the rights of man.” malignant Influence made itself felt. Again and again heavy weights “accident- ally” dropped out-of the smoky darkness of the foundry roof came near to crushing Jack's skull; once a hoisting winch, under an enormous strain, was turned loose by the treacherous release of a pawl, and only by a half-inch missed breaking his back; . finally, two of the sturdiest ruffians in ng of his enemies picked a quarrel m, intending to give him a merciless beating, which resulted in their being taken to a hospital for repairs. But none of these verved John Burroughs from his course, or even gave him a thought of fear. v. c. nt Foreman Burroughs, while busy with his work on an upper floor of the great Steel cage, the second day after the acci- dent, was startled by hearing, in a ch and familiar voice, the hail, ‘‘Helloa! Jack! and to see, mounting from the end of a ladder, ais former chum, Ross Thorpe. “How in the world did you ever come to | find me here?” he exclaimed. s had but little breath left, after his but found encugh to g stance saw you, and teld Amy, Ouf! “What a elimb! see moon by looking n over the edge, at this time of day?” i you ever muld recotl mind about ta fellow it was duly reported—were | Learning that j | when he gav a | peared, leaving him alone. Their interview in the ev and pleasant. Ross, notwith rooted antipathy to exertion, was qt honest in hi ession of hearty admi tion for J ck, energy and end ance. And he noted with satisfaction that a year of arduous toil had left few marks on his friend. Jack looked more pewerful than formerly—and he never was a weak- ling—h:s face had grown graver and more earnest taan it used to be, which made him seem a littie older than he was, but in the main, when out of his working clothes he “looked the same old Jack. “But,” remonstrated Ross, when he had heard Jack's story, “even if you persist in sticking to the fe, I should think vou’d want to get away from a gang of Yahoos who put up jobs to maim and kill you. Why don't you get work some other place? “Nothing would induce me_to change. It is part of my education. The men are not all bad. Only a few of them, in fact, have been infected by that mad dog Jano- vies. “Couldn't you have him arrested “No. He is shrewd enough to have oth- ers do the mischief he plans. It is easy to suspect, but hard to convict rascals of his kind. “They'll get you yet.” “TI think not. Our work on this big build- ing is nearly done. When it is finished and Herr Janovics. I go back to the works, I may be put in some other department, and perhaps see no more of them th: do now. shall be on my of speedy return to the works wa quickly th he had expect next ¢ was summoned’ to the position temporarily at of foreman of the foundry. The old foreman, who first rec ognized Jack's ability,~had been dead months, and his successor was his former assistant, a rough, ignorant fellow, who drank, had n» authority among the men and neglected his duties. 1 his fault that the irregular beam ‘27 [ s not at the bullding when wanted, and that_in- other was erroneously marked for it. That filled the measure of his offenses. He was discharged, and Burroughs ordered to take his place. The moiders rebelled. It exasperated them to think that one they remembered as a casting cleaner when they were al- ready molders should in a little over a year have risen above them. His superior abil- ity, which they could not but recognize, only embittered them. Then, too, some of them liked the former foreman, with whum they used to get drunk, and thought it loyalty to him to antagonize his successor. Herr Janovies learned of the promotior and did his best to fan the flames of dis- content. “So,” he said, tauntingly, “the sand wheeler is your master now and can ord=r you around. Do you know why? of his cunning, sneaking, under-h ways of serving the bosses.” The men knew that was a He, but preferred it to the truth, because it flattered their s “I tuld you when he was here,” Jandvics went on, “that he was the spy and tool of the bosses. Now, who will say I not right; that I djd not smell him ou Ke warning! They plan some new Inv: your rights! new c ns for their trampied slaves! And he, their hireling, is ready to do their dirty work. Will vou endure it? Will you be'his obedient dogs? Or will you be, his judges?” I'll break his Jaw tomorry, be the mor- tial gob, 1 will,” grawied a molder named Kennedy, a big, enormously powerful -fel- low whv had quite a reputation as a fighter, was indeed known as “The Fo.n- dry Terror. “Kennedy can; if any man can, he, can,” piped One-eyed Finn, a little old’ man who was barely on the outskirts of Janovics’ following, “but if he tries it at the shop it'll have to be a fair fight. For their own credit the byes'll stand nothin’ else there. “That's all I want,” vaunted Kennedy, “and if I ain't man enough to do him, I'li never take another drink.” Lord! That's a bow!d sayin’, One-eyed Finn. The fight was forced on Jack the next morning, and he was nothing loath to ac- cept the issue. It was fair. Although the men were, one and all, hopeful that the foreman would be whipped, they were de- termined that the best man should win in a shop fight, so they formed a ring and al- lowed no interference. Kennedy was fero- cious, brawnier than Jack and had a longer reach, with some “science,” but was no match for the cool, skillful boxer who had been the best amxteur middle weight in the Manhattan Athletic Club. “The Foun- dry Terror” was badly whipped and did not succecd in even inflicting a bruise upon the man he had sworn to “do.” A “strike” was threatened, but Jack was as ready for that as for the fight. “Strike if you like,” ho told the men, “{ do not believe the Molders’ Union will sustain you, but if it should I wiil fill ycur places with picked green men, who, under my direction, will learn to do in two weeks all required on such straight jobs as the shop ts full of now. And not a men who goes now will ever return while I am here.” There was no “strike,” revolt, but the men continued at Janovics’ instigation, a dev! took shape secretly among reckless and naturally criminal tools. Preparations were making for the casting of an enor- mous bed-plate, with very heavy rein- foreements and deep lug-like projections from its nether surface, a mass that would welgh several tons. Both halves of its huge mold were made and baked with ex- treme care and Jack neglected no prepara- tion necessary to success. While the upper half was being slowly and cautiously low- ered into place, he went, for a moment, to the stack, to ascertain if the metal was ready to run. When he returned the men were clamping: the frames of the mold. This, and the last stoppings, channelings and ventings were all speedily done, and the foreman shouted to the furnace-tender. “Let it come!” Engrossed as he was with the work he did not notice that the four men who stood near him, by the mold, that order, suddenly disap- exclaimed no more onen ullen, and, ish project A rivulet of white molten metal spurted out from the furnace and coursed swiftly, alcng its channel toward him. Gold and crimson sparks flew from it and when it plungee into the mold, gas flames, green and blue, darted from the vents. The in- flow continued several seconds, in a still- ness. that made the low hiss and crackle of the fiery curreat seem loud. Then came a terrific explosion and the air was full | of fragments cf the mold, blinding steam and flying masses of molten metal, white and currant red. Following close upon the awful roar were the crashes of heavy ob- jecis falling, the angry hiss of water turn- Ing to steam, the agonized screams of yictiris and the excited cries of men flec- ing from the catastrophe. And all was in darkness, save the glow of liquid metal spreading in stender streams and shallow s over the irregular earthen floor. one threw open the big double letting the steam out and the day- in. rely John Burroughs bore a charmed life, for he still stood, unharmed, in his place by the remnants of the mold. But two men had been mortally Injured. "The back of one was broken, and the other i been horribly burned by a mass of i-iquid iron that had struck and mold- «lf upon him, Realizing that they shout to die they confessed having selves caused the explosion, in the of killing the foreman. They had, back was turned, poured a pail er in the mold, before it was closed. ght The other two men working with them were accomplices, and Herr Janovics had been the instigator of the diabolical deed. Ress Thorpe mentioned to his sister, one day, that Jack would pay him a visit the next morning, by appointment, but per- haps that had nothing to do with the fact that when Mr. Burroughs was formally announced, at the. expected time, Miss Constance Dessine happened to be in the parlor, calling upon her friend Amy, and ee course received a formal introduction to o,"" thought Jack, regarding her with inter “that’s the girl who remembered me a year, merely from cne casual glance. What a memory for faces she must have!” In his innocent freedom from personal vanity, the idea did not occur to him that r recollection in his case was perhaps ptional and due to some special at- traction other faces might not have pos- ed for her. That he would always re- member her, he did not doubt, but that wasea very different matter. Her face was not one to be forgotten. And yet, he could turned away and described it, to neck. H perception of its de- very vague. Her great dark eyes seemed to fascinate his sight, whenever he looked at her, and all else of her feat- ures were merged in a general impression of perfect loveliness. She , and he was enthralled by her voice; she spoke, and seemed to him a paragon of wit and sense; sho walked, and he thrilled with admira~ tion of her grace and the beauty of her figure; she sat still and silent, yet even in her repose he found new charms. If ever a young man unconsciously plunged head- long in love, John Burroughs did. Constance had been playing on the plano and he stood beside her, having been oc- cupied in the ecstatic duty of turning her music, when he said, in a low voice: “Ross tells me you recognized me, after a year.” His alluding to that mnemonic feat would have been sufficient evidence to any one who knew him of the wholly impersonal way he was considering it, but Constance did not yet know him well enough to un- derstand that, and blushed violently at be- ing so directly charged with holding a young man in remembrance, and by the young man himself; neverthcles: it was true, and she simply answered, “Yes.” “It is surp ig! I'm sure I should have remembered you, if I had seen you, but that would have been because it was you. And I fancy it is well I did not. “Why so?” she asked, in surprisi “If I had, I think it would have been harder for me to adhere to the plans I had made. I would have been wanting to see you again instead of sticking to my work.” That was gratifying, but as far as she could pern in a first interview ard it w bie if he could have re emed to her expectant ser ghtly, “Your friends would not allow any- body to forget you; they were so constantly speculating upon what had become of you.” But, as they walked slowly toward where Amy and Ross were sitting, at the other end of the room, she stopped and id earnestly: “I want to apologize for listen- ; to what you said that day. It was rude of me to do so, but you were so close and spoke so clearly that I could not help hear- ing you.” uu have nothing to apologize for. ad you heard me, if it hi mber me. 1 think it did,” Iam he replied lauzhingly. id did you never s that money Not once. I went to work the next day ard have, eve , earced all I required. It is s needs. “Have you heard anything lately about the suit?” asked Ross, as they approached ing how little a man really answered Jack. Court of appeals next term, my Hs “No. Why should 1? Even if they take the estate, they cannot take me.” ed if you win, what will you do? Bloom s a leader of hety >" ter of an iron works a ven if you don’t need to make sney any mo. reeds useful occupation more us maxim that dently forget the fi ischief stil) some n tan for busy hands to I should think,” remarked Constance, cu would wish to get away from a class of men capable of assa ing those they do not happen to like.” “Only a few of the men are bad, and they through ignorznee. Men who courage to toil honestly for a are inherently capable of noble elihood deeds, and only do ones through lack of moral and social development.” “The chaps who tried to blow you up must have lacked a good deal,” commented ose Yes; but they were only tools. The y worst scoundrel! in that bad affair was one who did no honest work, Janovics, and by the time he comes out o son work- irgmen, I hope, will have grown mentaliy and morally beyond his influence. The evening was a very pleasant one, and when Jack, on reaching home, set his little alarm clcck to’ arouse him at daybreak he said to himseif deliberately: “When I am an iron master, I shall make that girl Mrs. Burroughs. vu. Summer's heats had come, yet Constance would not make up her mind where she would go, out of town. “I don’t care a last year’s bird's nest,” said Aunt Keturah, “where we go, so long as it isn't cverywhere and we get off be- fore snow storms make traveling bad.” Amy Thorpe declared, “I just won't go “Peek up and ict us be off.” anywhere without you this summer, Con- stance, and if I die from staying in’ town, you will be responsible, morally at least. So pack up und let us be off to Bar Harbor at Peet ‘Where do you suppose Mr. Burroughs intends to spend his vacatio replied Constance inconsequentl: “Don’t you think Ross could find out?’ Ross tried, and his report was far from encouraging. “Jack says he is not going anywhere; that labor is allowed only one vacation, the long one that comes after everything cls “Heavens!” exclaimed Amy; “what a pes- simisti¢ mood he must be in. That is the effect of the weather already.” “Yes,” assented Ross, looking very se- riously at Constance, “scientists recognize that continuous exposure to a temperature from eighty to ninety degrees provokes melancholy end from ninety-five up, es- pecially with humidity, incites to murder. John ought to be carefully watched this sumirer.”” The girls looked alarmed—particularly Constarce, though she said least. “I know,” ccntinued Ross, f a watering place neither of you is acquainted with; the biggest, and jolliest, and best in the land; where the amusements are most di- versified, the luxuries unbounded, the in- conveniences fewest, the extortions least, and within easy reach of Jack—” “Where is it?) Where is it?” they cried, interrupting him. “Right here. New York,” he affirmed, with an air of confidence. And when he gave them a vague outline of what they had, all their lives, turned their backs upon and missed, they said, “This summer we will take it all in—and Jack shall be our excuse.” Jack was shy at first. He was sensitive about being seen, recognized and claimed by old-time acquaintances before he had conquered the position at which he aimed, and he had got quite out of the way of holiday making. But when Ross assured him that none of their old set were in town and hinted that Constance expected his company—had even, perhaps, remained in the city on his account—he resisted no lenger. And soon it became a regular habit for him, when work stopped at noon, on Saturdays, to change his clothes at the foundry and go directly to keep an ap- pointment with Ross and the girls. Merry times they had at Manhattan Beach, Long Beach, Coney Island, Rockaway, Glen Is- land or some other popular resort. The scenes presented to them had all the charm of novelty for Constance and Amy, and terest. Even South Beach, Fort Lee and Bowery Bay were “visited, once each, but Amy declared that was as near “slumming” as she cared to go, and as much of it as she could stand, so theyeafter Rcss—whose ex- periences were thorough—knew “‘just where to draw the line.” ‘altogether they passed a very jolly summer, and, for two at least of the quartet, it was also a very happy one. In October the court of appeals re- versed the decision, of the lower court in the casa involving the Burroughs estate, blighting utterly the hopes of the rascally conspirators and making Jack a rich man again. On the same day that this intelli- gence reached him, he made a formal proposition to the proprietors of the Vul- can works to buy a large interest in their business, which ‘they took under advise- ment. Not until that matter was decided would Jack say anything to his friends about his changed fortune, or essay what he had determined should be the next number on his program. Even after its steel frame has been erect- ed a long time is required for the finishing of one of the monster modern office build- in The skeleton must be clothed with stone. its interior divided by fire and sound proof floors and partitions, its hallways wainseoted with costly polished marbles, and a world of intricate appliances for lighting, heating, ventilating, etc., put in place. It was deemed a marvel of expedi- tion when the great building Jack worked on in the spring had been brought to com- pletion by November. Its proprietors, just- ly proud of their handsome edifice, resolved to signalize the event, and at the same time make a most effective announcement of their readiness to accommodate tenants, by giving such a “house-warming” as had never been seen in ..ew York. Their invi- tations were sent out broadcast, to ‘‘so- ciety” people, bankers, merchants, specu- rs, Investors, everybody, in fact, suf- ficiently prominent to be thought of, and in a kindly spirit of old-fashioned fraterni- ty—unfortunately much rarer now than it ised to be—to all the men who had been conspicuously engaged, even !n subordinate capacities, in the actual erection and com- pletion of the building. Democratic as this comprehensive in-gathering was, it pro- duced one of the most brilliant and notable evenis of the season. For that night the big building dedicated to the stern practicabilities of business life was transformed to a fairy: ace. Rooms, halls and_ stair tastefully decorated with flowers, ever- Search Light on the greens and bunting; electric lights flooded ene with an fumination more in- an sunshine and the air was trep- h warmth en@ perfume. A full mil- en the first floor, and a “reed * orchestra on the seventh, si plied music for what was either one enor- nineteen-story ball, or some fort yet balls in the many suites of lar partments, according as one chose to re gard it. John Burroughs was among the and in a very happy mood, that after- toon the papers had been ned making him one of the propridtors of the great Vul- works, and the time had c: tion of andther “cherish, © found Constance, with the T ns full of his intent, almost immediately proposed that she should accompany him to the dome, for a view of the city by night from that grand elevation. i changed glances, fer both aned his r e, betrayed to th keen percept! impetuos.ty 5, rch he hims re. Certainly, Constanc y him, and she asked along, which that astute y. woman de- clined, saying she preferred to dance, and when Ross manifested an inopportune de sire to have a look from the dome with them she gave his arm such a meaning pinch that he quickly 5 mind. From the twentieth story, where a grand banquet was being set out, Constance and Jack ascended three flights of stairs, to the upper floor of the dome. There they step- ped out upon the narrow balcony, which, mzsked by a breast-high facing of orna~ ironwork, ri d ructure. now-clad city, with tts myriad lights and overhung by a radiant golden canopy, was indeed a fair sight to see, and they stood for a few moments as if spellbound by its beauty. But John Bur- roughs had not come up there to admire scet.ery. “Constance,” he said, “I have brought you up here nominally to see, but really to hear. For some time—in fact, ever since I have knuwn you—I have felt that the hap- piness of my life depended upon my mak- ing you my wife. Of course, I said nothing to you of my love so long as my position was indeterminate and my future doubt- ful. ‘Those conditions exist no longer. The foundry foreman has become an fron mas- ter. And now I am able to say to you, Con- stance, I love you, with my whole heart and soul, and want you to be my wife. Will you?” “Yes; very willingly,” she replied, meet- ing his ardent gaze with a look eloquent of affection. He drew her to him, in a fond embrace, ard kissed her. At that instant from the dome of a dis- tant newspaper building the vast white beam of an electric search light was flashed full upon the lovers. ‘The pretty tableau they presented lasted but a second, for Constance with a scream and Jack with an ejaculation that was not a blessing van- ished into the dome. The end. ——_——_+e+__ Stogies and Their Name. From the New York Herald. The origin of the name “stogie,” or “toby,” as it 1s called in western Penn- sylvania, has been a matter of considerable dispute. The most probable derivation is that given by a Wheeling manufacturer, who has been engaged in stogie making for sixty years. He says: “The names ‘stogie’! and ‘toby’ are both abbreviations. About eighty years ago, be- fore the days of railroads and after the completion of the National Pike, connect- ing the cities of Washington and St. Louis, there was used for conveying goods a vehicle called a conestoga wagon, or simply conestog2. The drivers of these were called conestoga drivers. In those days the pipe was used by those amable to afford cigars. Some inventive genlus—I have forgotten his. name—conceived the idea of making a cheap smoke for the driver. He got some tobacco and rolled or twisted it in a crude way so that smoke. would go through it, and sold to these drivers, whence they came to be called ‘conestogas.’ The to- bacco used was of €00d Kentucky stock, which was, in those days, very cheap. Be- sides, there was at that time no internal revenue tax on them. When I began busi- ness in 1840 there was one other man en- gaged in it, and both factories employed from four to seven ‘men.”” The character of the stogie has changed but little in the seventy-five years of its manufacture. The stogie of the early days was about four and one-half inches long and made by hand of long filler Kentucky tobacco. The stogie of today is six and one-half inches long, but the materials and process of manufacture remain the same. — Amy to go Not on a Purchasing Tour. From the Detroit Tribune. “Will you be my wife?” She was very beautiful. Some estimated her beauty as high as $10,000,000. “No!” she answered. “I came abroad merely to shop, and with no idea of mak- ing any purchases. Not today, thank you.” The titled aristocrat ground his teeth in rage. He had ground his teeth in nothing else since the previous day at luncheon. The best made, Dr. Bull's Cough Sy were sufficiently varied to retain their =] A CHAT WITH MILE Some Views of the Commander of the Army. A CAREER THAT READS LIKE A NOVEL Military Importance of the Bicycle and Horseless Vehicle. BULLET-PROOF ARMOR ——— (Copyrighted, 1895, by Frank G. Carpenter.) ENERAL NELSON Ge Miles is writing his memoirs. I vis- ited him last week at Governor's Island, / and found him sur- rounded by manu- script. and docu- ments. Photograpas of famous Indian chiefs, of Aiaska and of the unknown west were scattered over his library table, ard the general was sit- ting with a number of typewritten chapters before bimi, giving them the last revision before going to the printers. He has been working at it for months early and late, and he has it now almost completed. The plain facts of Gen. Miles’ career read like a novel. His whole life has been a sensational romance, many sentences of which throb with danger. Where will you find a life like it? The greatest generals of the past have risen to prominence through special training. Napoleon was intended and educated for a soldier; Caesar, brought up in the family of his uncle Ma- rius, the greatest general of his time, was suckled on military milk. Grant had re- ceived his West Point education, and until he was thirty-nine had risen no higher than to a captaincy, and Sherman, that other great West Pointer, at this age hardly known to fame. These men pushed, as it were, into the army. Gen. Miles had to force his way there. He began his life as a farmer's boy. His West Point was a crockery store in Boston. One of his rich uncles offered to make him ancialiy independent if he would give up ambition to be a soldier, and it was cnly by taking all the meney he had saved and he could borrow that he was abi t the aze of twenty-one, to raise the com ny which enabled him to go to the army a first lieutenant. This was at the be- ginning of the civ! r, and from that as starting point in the short space of four 's his wonderful military genius elevated nim with lightning rapidity from one posi- tion to another until, at twenty-five, he kad become a major general, and had risen to the highest HMneal rank in the army. A Boy General. Think what the ordinary boy is between twenty-one and twenty-five, and you get some idea of the remarkable career of this ex-crockery clerk. What a story he can tell of the Army of the Potomac! He was in every one of its battles except that of Gettysburg, where he could not be on ac- count of the desperate wounds which he had rece'ved at Chancellorsville, and which the surgeons had said would cost him his life. He was always in the thickest of the fight, and all of the generals from Grant to Burnside recommended him many times for promotion. He was wounded again and again, and he ceased his fighting on when his hurts were so great that he was unable to keep his place upon his hors At one time when shot through the neck he put his hand over the wound and was aux- icus to again lead his troops into batth ° | Still, he never wantonly risked the lives ot his men, and his coolness in scenes Where other men lose their heads, and his ability to take advantage of every change in position on the part of the enemy, nade the other officers consider this boy neral a valuable ally. Bis Indian Stories. And then think of the Indian stories he can tell! When the war was over, Gen. Mile nained in the service, and contin- ued to seek dut’ in the midst of the fray. Some of his Ind campaigns have been filled with adventures which would make books in themselves. They have been in all extremes of climate. His first and last wefe in lands so hot that bis men, crazed with thirst, opened the veins of their arms in order that trey might moisten their lips with their own biood. Others were amid the arctic snowstorms of a northern winter, where the men were so clad in furs that they could not be told one from ancther. put down the gigantic Messiah conspiracy which promised to involve all'the Indian tribes and make an Indian war greater than any we have yet had. Then, leaving this border warfare, he came to Chicago during the Debs strike, and with the iron hand of military rule he grasped that bedy of rioters and told them that the laws of the United States must be obeyed. Gen. Miles is perhaps the best authority on the Indian question now living, yet he is so simple in his make-up that he does not seom to realize that his life has been more than commonplace, and in his private talks about the things of which he has been so great a part he puts himself in the background. My talk with him was more of a social chat than a fixed inter- view, but it contained so much of interest that I will give some parts of it just as they occurred. How Miles Became a Soldier. “General, where did you first get your desire for a militay life?” I asked. “I don’t know that,” replied General Miles. “I wanted to be a soldier from my boyhood. I can remember the desire as far back as ten years of age, and at sev- enteen, when I was clerking in Boston, I joined a military school and drilled there for several years. This was just preceding the war. The Kansas-Nebraska struggle was on, and the air was filled with the rumors and threats of the coming fight. I remember I used to go to the library and read the southern papers, and I could see, I thought, that war was sure to come. I remained in this military school, and when it did come I was to a certain extent ready for it.” “How did you happen to get into the army? You organized a company, did you not?” “Yes,” was the reply. “I raised a com- pany. I took all the thoney I had saved and borrowed more for the purpose of cr- ganizing and recruiting it. After it was complete I was chosen captain. I had re- ceived my commission, and was about ready to go to the field, when Gov. An- drews wrote me, asking me to return the commission, as he did not think so young @ man as myself ought to be in command of a company. I was at this time twenty- one. I sent my commission back, and he sent me that of a first lieutenant instead.’ “That must have seemed very hard, said IL. “Yes,” was the reply, “but I had to ac- cept it. I could not fight the governor of Massachusetts. I wanted to go to the army, and I obeyed. It was not long, however, before Col. Barlow of the sixty- first New York volunteers asked me if I did not want to join his regiment, and through the governor of New York he He} made me his lieutenant colonel. Then he Was promoted, and I became colonel of that New York regiment. It is rather cu- rious that, though I went into the army from Massachusetts, nearly all of my work during the civil war was with New York soldiers rather than with those of my own state. Later on I was in command of a division made of New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio regiments, and at near the close of the war I had command of the second army corps, in which there were’ thirty- two New York regiments. At this time I was twenty-five. I was a major general, and was wearing the same uniform that I wear today. I have, in fact, the same yel- low sash and the same sword.” “You were at the battle of Appomattox, general. Did ycu see Lee’s surrender to Grant?” “No, I did rot,” replied Gen. Miles. “T was at the front, in command of my troops, and though Gen. Lee’s preliminary correspondence in regard to the surrender pessed through my lines, I did not see the actual surrender. Gen. Lee came up to our lines, expecting to meet Gen. Grant there.” Grant and Lincoln. “You must have seen much of Grant at this time, general. How did he impress you?” “Yes, I saw him every day. I was struck most by his intense earnestness. He seem- ed to have only one thought, and that was to succeed. He fought every battle as though that was to be hisdast one. He did not appear to be troubled at all as to the future. He wanted to succeed at the time, and he was ready to risk everything for success.”” “How about President Lincoln?” “He came frequently to the army, espe- cially after a defeat. He had a fatherly influence on the soldiers. They all admired him and loved him.” The conversation here turned to the gen- eral’s experience at Fortress Monroe, where Gen. Miles had command at the time that Jefferson Davis was confined, and then came back to the battles of the war. Gen. Miles had sust finished answering some questions as to the terrible fight at Chan- cellorsville, where he was severely wound- ed, when I asked: “General, I wonder how a soldier feels when he comes under the fire of battle for the first time. You were only twenty-one at the time of your first fight. Do you re- member how you felt when the bullets be- ‘isue around you? Were you not “No, I can’t say that I was afraid,” re- plied Gen. Miles. “I think soldiers always feel exhilarated when they are about to go into battle. The struggle calls forth all that is in them. Every faculty is exerted to its full, every nerve ts stretched to its utmost. I know of no greater pleasure nor ore inspiring moment for the soldier than when he first faces his enemy and makes the charge which is to win or lose a battle. The excitement of victory is also great, and on the other hand, there is nothing so depressing as the knowledge that you are losing ground and may be defeated.” How It Feels to Be Shot. “You have been wounded several times. general. How does it feel to be shot?” ‘That depends upon where the ball strikes you,” replied Gen. Miles. “If it passes through the fleshy part of the bedy without hitting the bone, it is a half mile away before you realize that you are shot. 1° it meets with resistance, however, you get tke fulk force of the bullet, and it strikes you like a siedge hau.mer. I was once shot in the neck. The ball cut along the. side of my throat, under my ear, and pass:d on. At Chancellorsville, a’ ball suuck my waist-beit plate, and then de- flecting, went off into my body. The blow paralyzed me. I could not move for weeks frem my waist downward, and every one thought I would die. I was taken home to Massachusetts, and after a few days I surprised the doctor by moving my right fcot. They took this for a sign that the ball was in the opposite side of say body. and probed for it, laying the bone of my h'p bare. They found the bone broken, end took out nine pieces, leaving one, which they failed to find. They found the bullet several inches further down than these pieces of broken bone. At another time I was wounded in the shoulder by the half of a bullet. I was holding my sword up to my shoulder when the bullet struck the edge of the blade and was cut in two, one- half of the bullet flying on and the other geing into my shoulder. At another time I was wounded in the foot, the ball striking a Mexican spur that I was wearing, and going off into my foot. By the way, I think I have the spur.” Here the general da drawer in his desk and pulled out a big Mexican spur which was broken on one side. The break was caused by the bullet striking the spur. Gen. Miles-and Politics. It is not generally known that Gen. Miles had a good chance to enter political life at the time the war closed. The cruth is that he was offered the nomination for Congress by one of the Massachusetts districts. Had he accepted, his abilities are such that he would probably have taken high rank as a statesman. Thinking of this, I asked: “General, have you ever regretted stay- ing in the srmy? Don’t you think you might have had a pleasanter life had you given up your military career at the close of the war?” “No,” replied Gen. Miles, “I have not. 1 iike the army, and my Hfe, though it has had some hardships, has not been an un- pleasant ene. I have had many advan- tages. I have had a chance to see the great west grow from a wilderness to an empire, and have been permitted to vork in its development. When I went west to take my place as colonel of one of the reg- iments of the regular army, from the Cana- dian boundary to the Rio Grande and from Topeka to the Rockies was little more than an Indian camping ground. This strip 1s about 400 miles wide and 1,300 miles long. It is as big as all the Atlantic states with Kentucky and Ohio. It is bigger than New England, with New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois added to it. It is a country equal, in short, to that of the best part of the United States. I have scen this vast territory opened to settlement. I have seen the Indians upon it subdued and changed from fighting braves to good citi- zens. They have taken up lands, and they are now adopting our ways. Upon their old camping grounds have grown up big cities, and I have seen a population of raillions construct an empire in the wilds where they have hunted. It 1s, I think, a great thing to have witnessed all (his, and I deem myself fortunate tn having done so.” Bicycles for the Army. At one time during the conversation the subject of military improvements came up, and I asked Gen. Miles where he thought would be the next great advance in army matters. He replied: “It will probably be in the line of transportation of men and equipment. The bicycle and the horseless vehicle w'll have much to do in the wars of the future. Put an army on bicycles and their opponents would be at their mercy if they were not similarly equipped. The bicycle troops could feed off of the supplies of their enemy’s country. They could move so rapidly that the others could not catch them. They could choose their own positions and fly from one point to another at a few hours’ notice. They could forestall supplies and have every position of-advantage, both in attacking and retreating. Take the horse- less carriage. The French have shown that some of such vehicles will go at the rate of sixteen miles an hour and at the same time carry four persons. They had a competitive race for such vehicles from Paris to Bor- deaux and return, a distance of 750 miles, and the average speed was sixteen miles per hour. The different motive powers used were steam, electricity, naphtha and p2tro- leum. Petroleum came out ahead, and the amount used was very small, a single gallon carrying a small carriage over a hundred miles of travel. There ic no doubt but that such vehicles can be utilized in place of horses. I am glad of it. The horse has been the slave of mankind for thousands of yea: and it is time that he should have a rest. Bullet-Proof Armor. “What do you think, general, of the possi- bilities of getting an armor which will be bullet proof? You know this is being ex- perimented upon in Europe.” “I doubt it,” was the reply. “Ahy such armor, to be really effective, must be too heavy for use."” “How about dynamite, general? May the day not come when a few men th a bushel of dynamite and a balloon will biot out a city or an army “It may come,” replied General Miles, “and it would be effective if one nation could have a monopoly of such inventions and such explosives, but such things cannot be. If one nation has them, others will have them, and battles will go on ali the same. Ii may be that the wars of the future will be fought to some extent above ground. We may have battles in the air, and the efficiency of modern guns is already such that in such battles balloons would be Le great danger. We now have mortars which will shoot three miles straight up in the air, and we could really make it very SLEEP OR DEATH. For Years Mr, Bureheim Had Safered. Paine’s Celery Compound Soop Made Him Well. Publisher of Two Great German Papers. Can Now Work Fourteen Hours Every Day. Sleeps Soundly and Peacefully Every Night He Lives. Sleep is ove of the things that cannot be put off from night to night. The punishment for sleeplessness is worse than pain. It means a shattcied mind. It often happens that a sudden stress of vork or anxiety robs one of the night’s rest. ‘The effect is soon apparent in the languor, headzches and list- lessness that ensue. If rapid and abundant means are employed to re- pair the exbausted parts the nerves regain their elasticity. But {f an unratural privation of sleep is carried beyond the stretching power of the brain the whole nervous syetem becomes undone, and prostration results. 1 ‘Thousands of men struggling under great respon- sibilities or tedicus work, anxious, overwozked mothers and wives, shop girls who are forced to stand on their feet all day long, have little dif culty in convincing their friends of the remarkable power «f Paine’s celery compound to restore thelr energy, renew their vigor and make them strong and well. Here is 2 letter from Mr. Max Burghelm, the well-known. president and manager of the Cincin- nati Freie Presse Company. Mr. Burghelm writes: “The following statement may be of interest I have been suffering from sleeplessness, msomnia, for many years, and al:bovgh I haye tried almost everything to get ‘cured, consulting the best phy- sicians, and even going several times to Europe, everything was in vain. “I did not have a night's rest for almost six years—that is to say, I could not -sicep for two hours in succession im a single night; you can easily imagine what the effect on me had been. “After eperding a fcrtune in trying for relief, I had given up almost all hope, 2nd when T first read about Paine’s celery compound I did not bave much faith in anything. Eut after having used so meny remedies and consulted ‘so ‘many “physicians in this country and atroud, I felt like giving the compourd a trial. The result was truly wonderful, “The very first night, alout six months ago, that I tried Paire’s celery compound, you can imagine my joy when I found that I had slept six hours in succession, a thing that I had not been blessed with for so many years. I continued the use for over three months, with the same -happy result, and although I was fearful lest the malsdy would come back on me, I can now say that although I have vot taken the compound for months, I do sleep every night, peacefully and without inter- ruption. “You can easily imagine what this meaas for a man who works fourteen hours every day in the year, and has charge of two large newsjapers. I consider my case a most remarkable one, and I sbculd be glad if this statenent should be the means of helping others who have suffered like I in the same untold agonies, and for this reason I give you full permiesion to make use of this state- ment in apy way you choose.”” uncomfortable for any balloons which might come hin our range.” ‘ar is Not at an End. “Speaking of rew inventions in modern warfare, general, many people think that through them war is becoming so terrible that it must eventually be done away with. Do you think so?” “No,” replied General Miles, “I do not. I don’t believe that men will stop fighting for such reasons. The modes of fighting may change, as they did in this Chinese- Japanese war. The soldiers will not fight close together, and battles are becoming every day less of the hand-to-hand struggle that they were in the days of Caesar. Ag to destruction, the numbers killed in the Chinese-Japanese war do not compare with those of our late civil w There were many more men killed in the battle of Get- tysbyurg than there were in all the battles of this late struggle between China and FRANK G. CARPENTER, ———__+ e+. On the Cffertory Pinte. From the London Daily Telegraph. A Leeds contemporary states that at a certain Yorkshire church a pair of spec- tacles was recently put on the offertory plate. The church warden courteously handed them back, supposing them to have been put there In absence of mind, but the donor again deposited them on the plate, and, not wishing to make a scene, the of- ficial finished his collection, and the spec- tacles were duly presented with the other alms. However, after the close of the service, he took them down to the donor (who was a stranger to the place), and said he feared they were given by mistake. Judge of his surprise on being assured it was intentional, and no mistake; that the reader of the prayers had made so many blunders in reading that the donor pre- sumed he could not see, and so presented him with a pair of spectacles. The inci- dent recalls Bishop Baring’s significant present of a razor to the curate whose reading was impeded by his heavy mus tache. - ———__+ + A Story of Mystery. Do you know what a “Story of Mystery” is? It is a continued story of which all but the last chapter is printed, and then guesses ‘are made as to the solution, then the final installment tis printed. On October seventh a most interesting mystery story, “When thé War Was Over,” will be started in ‘The Star, and five hundred dollars will be given for the first absolutely correct solution. In case no guess is abso- lutely correct the amount will be divided among those neurest to a correct solution, ‘The guesses will be confined to women read- ers, Fuller particulars elsewhere. SS Simple Enough. From Printers’ Ink. “jiow do you get your money to pay yous advertising bilis?” “By advertising.”