Evening Star Newspaper, October 19, 1895, Page 15

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. 18 BEDTIME STORIE t "Burdette Found a. Ready Juvenile Market for His Wares. HIS HEAD WAS MADE 0 SAVE HIS HEELS Creepy and Other Tales Recited to an Interested Audience. THE REGULATION GHOST (Copyright, 1805, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.) WAS BUT A youth, and rather a young, puerile, ado- lescent sort of a youth at that, when I began lecturing for a living. Though I was probably young- er than “The Boy” in “King Henry I who had observed three things, I had observed one thing among boys and girls, to wit: They liked Btorics and jistened gladly to story tellers. ‘Therefore it one day cccurred to me, while I was sitting in school ard should have been strlying my lesson—which is the very best timé in the world for thinking most brilliantly of something else—that as my brott«rs and sisters listened with hungry eagerness to mine own inventions, which were of a pocr sort, but would do for chil- @ren younger than myself, I might turn my chatter to persoral prcfit. In a very short time I established the market. I engaged my brethren to perferm certain household tasks—the tasks being far more certain than the performance—which by right of primogeniture devolved upon myself. These duties were at times irconvenient; fre- quently—say, all the time—uncongenial; and cccastonally—say the rest of the time—irk- some. I employed the other “sheaves” to bow dcwn and serve my sheaf; to prepare “light wood” against tie early fires of the coming morrow; to saw the stubborn “limb wood” in the loosely corded pile of green hickory; to labor betimes in the kitchen to run “arrants”—singular, isn’t ft, with what parity boys have preserved the early modern English form of that word —all these services being paid for in ‘‘sto- ries,” current length and full weight of the merchant. I think I was about fifteen years old when I received my first lecture fees. Under the law of supply and demand, rates soon regulated themselves. All of my brethren possessed the mercantile spir- it and had me that much at disadvantage. One long story was good for one day's ra- tion of ‘kindling wocd.”” Rates ruled a lit- tle higher in the winter when there were more fires. The prices for ‘‘arrants’’ varied with the nature of the “arrant” and of the mileage. Two short stories counted as one long one—for ncne of us knew that it was far easier to write half a dozen long siories than cne short one. Upon one occasion I got my “chores” done for the entire week by egreeing to tell stories Saturday night until the audience fell asleep. It well nigh ruined the business; I failed utterly in my performance of contract, and fell asleep Myself thrice, amid the howling protests of the wide awake audience. I have since beer far more successful with larger audi- ences. I finally compromised by agreeing to tell stories for nothing every night of the week following. I hung up ‘Freier eintritt” at the docr of the show, and when the week closed my stock was once more clear down to the shelves, and I had done all my own work beside. I confessed with great bit- terness that genius has to jump sideways when it comes in contact with commercial spirits. I went up and down the market place for a while after that to see if I could find sore man who would trade a little common serse for a great deal of genius. But the merchants laughed me to scorn, saying that a man with common sense could hire genius in the market place even up to the eleventh hour. One merchant, indeed, ask- ed me to bring some of my genius around with me and let him see it. I went home to get it; but it had been a long hard season in the west, and all the genius I possessed had winter killed. Sunday School Stories, In those prosperous days Sunday school stories were held rather steady, but they had to be a good article, sound in wind, limb and condition. Memoirs of boys far better than ourselves who died when they were just about our ages had a de- pressing effect upon the congregation and were never encored—unless there was a terrific thunder storm raging. A zig-zag flash of lightning 250 miles long, that seemed to go right through the room where we were huddled in bed, followed by a regular Gatling gun of a thunder clap that brought the heavens and earth together, bulled the “Memoir market quicker and higher than a case of cholera in the next house. But ordinarily they were held rath- @r cheaply. I often wondered, after I had gene through bankruptcy, why I didn't think of memoirs tne time I tried to talk my hearers to sleep. Foolish narrator that I was, [ tried to scare them to sleep with njun stories,” the very “wakiest” eye- openers I could have used. Bible stories were current coin, always, especially Old Testament lore. Saul and Atab, I grieve to say, were favorites among the kings of Israel. David was very popular in his fighting days, but lost favor ‘when he settled down and went to writing Psalms. Samson and Joshua brought down the house every time they appeared. Sham- gar and his ox-goad. was called for again @nd again because of its freshness and variety. The story of his exploits, being Most vividly elaborated on a very slender substructure of historical data, gave the Story <éller broad sea room for the most exciting and complicated maneuyers. Jehu was a steady and strong favorite. He in- variably drove to beat 2:40. That was the record when we were boys, and “Fanny Temple” was the recordmaker. Knowing, as I did, the names and colors of Jehu’s horses, gave me some advantage over the sacred writer. Ahab and Jezebel were very popular on account of the dogs. The more dcgs, the more certain was the orator of an encore, and the higher the price of the narrative. The occasional introduction of our own dog, a black “houn’ dog” named Hector, that was believed, upon fairly good grounds, to have bitten every man in Peo- ria, was a piece of dramatic realism that Wrought the audience to the highest pitch cf enthusiasm, and sometimes led to the smuggling of “Hector” into our bed room that he, too, might enjoy the glory he con- ferred upon our house. He was represented as whipping the other dogs, and getting the best and biggest pieces of the wicked and heartless queen. Also, it was tacitly under- stood that he was Jehu's favorite dog, and nae the monarch often went hunting with him. Stories told in the daytime, save on dis- mal, rainy days when we couldn't go out, were despised and thrown out as light coin. A story told in bed was equal to three told in the sitting room after supper. A ghost story counted three of any other kind at any time and in any place. War stories were gold—‘‘Injun fights’ far out- rating Roman or Grecian gore. Robbers vere held in high esteem. Stories about Christian martyrs were in steady demand and the supply was colored to sult the mar- ket, until our mother observed that there was a shade of disappointment when a martyr got away, and brighi-eyed joy when a black-maned Numidian lion, that had been on health-food diet for six weeks, and was.thin as a shad—yea, as two shads—got into the arena before the guards could get out, and fared sumptuous- ly on a course dinner of Roman soldier, Spartan gladiator and Christian patriarch. Ghost Story in Bed. Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton were better than wheat, and we “remembered the Alamo” at Icast once a month. But the crown jewel of all stories—a gem so rare and radiant that it had no fixed value and was only brought out to break a strike or bribe my brethren to some irksome task of unusually slavish toll—was a ghost story in bed. It alway began in the dark, and rattled and sighed and moaned, with clank- ing chains and long dark halis and flitting figures, sweeping white robes and spooky rustlings and splotches of blood, until some terrified auditor “bantered” another to get up with him and light the lamp. Because of the wasteful burning of a lamp at full head all night on several occasions our mother ordered that after date all ghost stories should be told in the afternoon, down stairs. But that was found to be a wretched failure. A ghost story in the daytime was as tame and emotionless as fireworks in the sunlight. it was derided and laughed out of court; whereas that same melancholy failure told in bed, by the flickering firelight or in the dark, lifted your hair like so many icicles, and with chilly, créeping crinkles, curdled the scalps of four boys huddled in one bed and as many listening through the open doors of their own rooms. And sometimes, when the white fingers of the moonlight traced tremulous silhouettes with the ghastly and evasive snadows on the wall, and the limbs of the cherry tree rattled and scraped against the -window, it scared even the story tellers. One starlight night, just as the ghost came in, the dog howled right under the window, a long drawn, wailing, despairing, bottomiess-pit kind ‘of howl. Eight heads went under the blankets with eight answering shrieks; and when we came out again the program was changed, and we had had the story of little Samuel, Moses in the ark of bulrushes, Abraham and Isaac, Ruth the Mabitess, and a suc- einct and detailed account of a boy of my own age, not a bit better than myself, who once heard a dog howl in just such 4 way and went out to see what the matter was and found a pot of gold. That reassured the audience, and we all said we knew what was the matter with “Hec.” The night was cold, and he wanted to get into the house. So what was the use of going out to see? But we went tu sleep without the rest of the ghost story. Somehow when you got really badly scared a ghost story seemed kind of wicked. One thing was absolutely essential to the acceptance of a ghost story. It had to be a mystery utterly inexplicable save on the ground that there really agd truly are ghosts—despairing, unhappy specters, “that came out of their lonely graves to haunt,” cculd not speak until they were spoken to, and fled. away to wherever they lived—or rather where they didn’t live—when the roosters crowed. A ghost story that could bed explained was never called for a second time. Located in the Cellar. If the ghost was a lady, we treated her as such. She was buried in an old brier- tangled but quite respectable burying ground, usually ‘a church yard, with a screech owl attachment. A man ghost, however, we felt free to take liberties with. It was great business to wall him up alive In a vault behind the cellar wall. We had a good cellar for ghosts of this sort. Right behind the apple racks was a gced place, because then when we went down for apples winter nights we could blow ‘out the candle and hear him coming cut. The next scene, about three-tenth’s of a second later, disclosed the whole crowd bursting with bulging eyes into the kitch- en, one of us carrying a broken candle that left a trail of tallow drops from the middle of the cellar to the kitchen, and the last child in the rush crying. And we all felt and looked foolish when we storm :>d into the brightly lighted kitchen, and mother, with the smile that was always on her face and meant so many things, wanted to know “what was the matter?” We could only say that we “heard some- thing.” And she would say that “we couldn't hear anything else." Sometimes we buried a man who had been foully mur- dered, down at the bottom of the garden behind the currant bushes. Then, summer evenings, when we played “hi-spy” (since corrupted into “hide-and-seek") we could see him flit silently past in the starlizat, waving his bloody hands above his head. And the terrified spectator would inform the rest of us tha. he “saw something!” This was blood-curdling. After one or two attempts to make it go, we never had the man shot. I don’t know why it is, but a man who is shot never makes a successful ghost. For that reason very few authentic ghosts have their birth- days since the invention of gunpowder. The ghost is bern, you know, the day the inan dies. The flash of a gun, the bang, the smell of the powder and the smoke are not good spookly properties. My son tells me thege is a ghost in old Fort George, on Lake Champlain, who beats a snare drum, but it would not do to establish this as a custom. Once in a while a man writes a story about a phantom railway train. It doesf’t go. A phantom ship is all right; there are such things—everybody knows that; I have seen them myself. A phan- tom stage coach is not at all unlikely; and there are well-known specter horsemen. But a phantom railway train—a hissing, snorting, puffing, noisy, roaring, dusty, cin- derous ghost—bosh! I believe in ghosts; I have a wide acquaintance with specter: and I know that a railroad train has no ghost. The Blood Spot Remained. Of course, all rules have exceptions. I remember one" gunpowder ghost which “haunted” when I was a boy. He used to be a man who scattered his skull clear Into the middle of next week while blow- ing down his shotgun, and afterward went prowling around, moonlight nights, looking for his head. But the correct thing in manufacturing a ghost was to cut his throat all the way round. A splash of in- delible gore went with that kind of ghost. Never could be scrubbed out. you know. The harder you scrubbed it, the brighter and redder it grew. Then you would take up the board, and ptt in a new one, fr: from the mill. Just as you heaven! It is cleaned at le board crinkled and shuddered, and blood spot broke out in the same oid plac the ke a crimson sunburst. Then you went away, a raving maniac. There were but two classes of insane people created by ghost scares. One was a “raving maniac,” the other a “gibbering tunatic.” An idiot always “‘driveled.” A person could not be scared into a “‘driveling idiot; he had to be born that way. It was necessary, how- ever, that the idiot’s mother should see the ghost. Then the idiot began to drivel the day he was born, and kept it up as long as he Hved. There were numerous gther minor ‘properties that went to the correct stage setting of a well-bred ghost, which will readily occur to the reader who was fortunate enough to be born before the railroads, and telegraphs, and electric lights, and trolleys, and hypnotism, and psychical research drove the real ghost out of the market. ROBERT J. BURDETTE. —— THE MARRIAGE FEE. A Rather Uncertain Quantity in the Experience of Many Ministers. From the Cincinnat! ‘Times-Star. A The question as to how much to pay the preacher who pronounces the marriage cere- mony is one that has more or less disturbed nearly every man whose sensibilities are not blunted and who has tremblingly held a trembling hand before the altar and prom- ised to love and cherish. It Is one which is now probably preying upon the mind of the ninth Duke of Marlborough. The fortunate preacher who is to say the word next month is scarcely human if he is not look- ing for a check that will have the dimen- sions of a handsome fortune. The mar- riage fee and the marriage dower will be expected’ to sustain something like har- mony. If they do, the magnificent -John Churchill estate will have to be mort- gaged, or else the bride will pay the fee by proxy. In striking contrast with what the preacker in the case probably expects is what an expectant Presbyterian preacher in Norristown, Pa., received a few days ago. This particular preacher performed the marriage ceremony for a couple who, to save the expense of a big wedding, had called at the parsonage, and at its con- clusion received from the smiling groom a sealed envelope. After the new Mr. and Mrs. had left the house the preacher broke the seal, when, lo, a single card dropped out on which was written the vulgar ab- breviation “Thanks.” Think of a new wife worth ro more to the new husband than “Thanks! There are few country preachers who cannot tell stories equally harrowing of how their fond hopes have been dashed by the niggardly fee which some ught-fisted benedict had doled out to them after the marriage ceremony. Many a faithful country preachef has taken long, cold, and tedious rides through the mud or snow to pronounce some man a husband and re- ceive fifty cents or a dollar or a bag of oats for his pains. HABITUAL DRUNKARDS. The Plan Followed in Austria in Treating Such Cases. Frem the New York Post. The Austrian government has prepared a bill for the treatment of habitual drurk- ards. The measure proposes to empower the authcrities to open retreats for inebri- ates, and distinguishes between the volun- tary and the compulsory detention of drunkards in these establishments. Those who enter voluntarily will be able to leave at will, but are to be treated exactly like the ccmpulsory inmates. The latter class may be sent to the retreat of the respective districts, either by the order of a magistrate or on the petition of the parents or chil- dren, or of the husband or wife or trustee, or of the chief of a lunatic asylum in which the drunkard may be detained. Inebriates may further be assigned to re- treats by the action of the public prose- cutor, or by the mayor or burgomaster of the town or village in which the habitual drunkard resides, whether he belong to that place, district, town or province or not. In all four classes of cases the detention of the inebriate must be preceded by an ordi- nary judicial action before a court of first instance, which Is bound to hear witnesses, including the drunkard himself, as well as the dectars, more* especially experts on mental diseases. ‘The term of detention will be generaily for two years, but the “patient,” as the inebriate is constantly called in the bill, may be released on leave after one year, but will be ccnfined again In case the trust reposed in him should prove to have been ill-placed. After the two years’ term he must be ‘released, but if he should after- ward come under the provisions of the measure he may be sentenced again and again for fresh terms of two years, and eventually given over to a lunatic asylum or to a hospital, as the case may require. —_——_+-e+—__ SETTLING AN OLD GRUDGE. Two Chickamauga Veterans Remind Each Other of the Time Long Ago. , From the Chicago Tribune. “Right here,” said the old Union soldier, digging his cane into the ground, “I stood on picket duty thirty-two years ago.” “And I stood on picket duty right over there,’ said the grizzled old confederate warrior, pointing with his long finger at a spot a few furlongs away. “I wonder,” exclaimed the former, “if you are the Johnny Reb that gave me a plug of tobacco when I hadn't a chaw for twenty-four hours and was half-dead for oni “If you're the Yank that gave me a can- teen nearly full of whisky when I was dying for a drink,” rejoined the southern- er, “I am The voice of the old veteran from the north trembled slightly when he spoke again. “I have always thought,” he said, “that if I ever met that man again this side of the fords of the river of Jordan I'd tell him that that tobacco was the meanest, orneriest, good-for-nothingest, dog-goned stuff that I ever put Into my mouth.” “Yank,” replied the old boy in gray, with emotion, “I've always wanted to live long enough to m2et the man that gave me that whisky and (ell him it was the vilest, nastiest, cheapest, infernalest booze that ever insulted the stomach of a white man, hegad, sah!” * Then the two old warriors shook hands and moved off arm in arm in the direction of a tent that had a barrel inside of it. — Not Hit a Bean. From Harper's Magaine. The encouraging and ever-popular bean, whether beiled, baked or porridged, is thus alluded to by a correspondent at Lakeville, Conn.: “A family living in the city were visited by relatives residing some distance off. One of the visitors remarked that there had been a great quantity of porridge made in his mother’s family, ‘enough,’ said he, ‘to float a 74-gun ship. Don’t you think so, Uncle John?’ appealing to one of his rela- tives. es, yes,’ replied that uncle, ‘and the ship could ficat twenty-four hours and not hit a bean.” ‘The future of the artist's reektic.—Life. A stimmlant 1s often needed to nourish apd strengthen the roots and to keep the hair a natural color. Hall's Hatr Renewcr is the best tonle for the hair. | at leas’ TALK WITH TALMAGE On the Eve of His, Departure for This Oy. DICTATES HIS SERMONS (Copyright, 1895.) BROOKLYN, N. ¥Y., October 18, 1905. N THE EVE OF HIS departure for Wash- ington I spent a brief part of one evening in the re- ception room of the Rev. T. DeWitt Tal- mage in his beauti ful home on South Oxford street in this city. The house in which Dr. Tal- mage has lived for many years is a four-story brick dwelling, the first of a row. It is singular, though, in being surmounted by a tower, and its side windows overlook a beautiful park. The house stands on high ground, and from the upper windows there is a commanding view. The exterior of the ‘Talmage home is plain enough, but the in- terior is furnished luxuriously and in charming taste. This much was plain, though Dr. Talmage said that the recep- tion room had been half-dismantled, pre- paratory to his departure for the national capital. Dr. Talmage will move to Wash- ing next Tuesday, and will occupy apart- ments ina wing of the Arlington Hotel. He told me that he would be glad to be relieved of the cares of housekeeping, and that he expected to stay in his new quar- ters permanently. He waxes eloquent when he talks of Washington as a place of resi- dence. “A man must have a genius for stupidity who would not be bright there,” he said. I suggested that there were men even in Washington who were like a cer- tain well-known story writer, of whom a critic said recently that he must have been born with his supply of ignorance—that he could never have acquired It. Dr. Talmage laughed. “Washington Is an ideal place to live, with its broad streets and its beautiful parks," he said. “It is so central, too, and so many brilliant men assemble there eyery year, that its people must feel the effect of their in- fluence. The presence of one great mind communicates itself to a whole commu- nity. Ican tell almost as soon as I reach a strange town whether there is a college there or not. And I can fell whether there is a female seminary ina town by the par- ticular emphasis 1t3 ppople lay on certain things. But show me @f gudience that is sluggish and heavy, tha\tnderstands what you have said ten minutes after you have sald It, and I know ing ipinute that that town has no college, fo’ séminary and few schools.” - A Failure That f¥ay, a Succe I asked Dr. Talmage, if,he was familiar with the figures of the hyreau of educa- tion, which showed {hat a much larger percentage of the population of the United States was educated fhan of the popula- ton of any other country in the world. am reasonably famijlar with those facts,” said Dr. Talmitze,' “but I am fa- miliar, too, with the fhcets‘eoncerning illit- eracy, which were laid before Congress by Senator Blair. If I had ,not seen the fig: ures to demonstrate it, J ‘would never hav beileved that there wa§ so‘much ignotanca’} in this country. Senato® Blair has done a great deal for education in his demonstra- tion of how greatly it.is needed. I believe his work has been called ‘one of the fail- ures that succeeded.’ The resolutions which Mr. Blair failed to get through the Sendte have called attention to the facts, Dr. Talmage has found his Washington audiences. intelligent and appreciative when he has lectured in that city—and he has been there once or twice a year for almost twenty years. I asked him if he found his audiences an inspiration, and he said that he did. “T speak better with a large audience be- fore me than I do in conversation.” he said. “And I can speak better without notes than with them. That is because it is*natural for me to speak without notes. I follow the bent of my nature. If it was easier for me to speak from nets, 1 would use them. It is a mistake for a man to try to go against his nature. Some people teach that a speaker should always talk without referring to notes. It is a great mistake to lay down any such cast-iron rule and a‘greater mistake to try to follow it. I have known that attempt to fight nature to spoil a good many men. Dictates His Sermons. “Don't you think an orator more effective who speaks without notes?” I-asked. “That depends on the man,” said Dr. Tal- mage. “CEalmers, you know, spoke from notes—from very fine notes. His sheets of paper were hardly longer than that,” and the doctor indicated the length of the paim and.fingers of his rather long hand. he writing was as fine as it could be. and he used to hold the sheets very close to his face. The Scotch, you know, don’t lke their preachers to use notes. They tell a/ story of an old lady who was p ng him to some ore, and who was asked if he didn’t use notes. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, ‘but he reads ‘em as if he was a’mos dy: It depends entirely on the man who reads the notes whether they will be effective or not.” I asked Dr. Talmage to tel! me something of his werk and how he did it. “I use stenograpby a great deal said. “I use it because for me it is the ezsiest way. Not that I am seeking ease, but I can accomplish*more in that way. I almost always dictate my sermons to a stenographer, and I never write a line of the three columns of editorial which I use in my paper every week. I have one of the fastest stenographers there is, and I never Fave to say anything twice. “Do you attempt to memorize your ser- mcns after you have dictated them? “No; I find that the act of dictating them fixes them pretty firmly in my mind. 1 do most of my studying walking up and down. I find that my thoughts flow most fre2ly that way.” As Editor and Lecturer. “You expect to keep up the editorship of your paper 1 “Yes. Washington ig, hardly any far- ther from Brooklyn in these days than New York is. Through my paper I can cover a much wider field than I otherwise could. I am doing some other magazine Will you continue ip thé lecture field?" Yes, but my lecturing “will be subor- dinate to my work in the ‘puipit as it al- ways has been.” s Dr. Talmage spoke ‘enthusiasticaily of his lecture tours abroad and of the evan- gelistic tour he made Ie¢s than two years ago. This tour was radewhen he was returning from Russia, where he went to deliver bread sent by the American people to the suiferers by the,great Russian fam- ine. Dr. Talmage spoke briefly of his visit to St. Petersburg and ‘of the late Czar of Russia and the czarina. “I met the present czar, too,” he said, “and I found him a splendid fellow. I believe the correspondents have not done him justice. Although he was so near the throne, he was thoroughly democratic. He is a man of simple tastes and splendid character.” What and How He Reads. I asked Dr. Talmage to tell me some- thing of his reading, his study. “I am a man of moods,” he said, “and I follow my inclination. A man of my dis- position should not bind himself to do a cer- tain amovnt of work or reading in a day. As to the class of reading, I follow my mental appetites. Some days I have a desire for what is dry—my appetite is for bones, Another day my mind demands that which is all vivacity. I am sorry to sey that the great demand on nty time made by my work has left me little op- | portunity of late for reading. I try to keep abreast of the times. I read the news- papers, of course, and the current maga- ae, I read the new books, too, when can.” ‘When I asked him to tell me how he chase his vocation, he said: “My ambition was to be a lawyer. From my boyhood the court room had had a fascination for me. It has still. I never pass a court room without the inclination to enter it, whether the court is in session or not. I studied law until I was almost ready to take out a license. In six months more I would have completed my studies. Now, my father and mother were deeply religious. But there was nothing lachry- mose or depressing about their religion. I was brought up to feel that religion was a pleasantness and Sunday the happiest day in the week. Well, all the time that I was stuiying law and preparing for the bar my parents were hoping that I would enter the ministry—never. saying anything about it, but hoping that I would. “My brothers were all preachers, and my uncle there’’—Dr. Taimage’s eyes wandered to a vacant space on the wall. Its vacancy startled “him for a moment. “His picture has gone down to Washington,” he said. “That is the first time in twenty years that I have looked at that face on the wall without seeing it. He was one of the lead- ing preachers of the south. All of my uncles were preachers and my sisters mar- ried preachers. So you see the influence about me was very strong. Well, I came in time to see that I could be of more use in the pulpit than I could at the bar, so I gave up my studies and began to prepare for the ministry. The World Needs Sympathy. “I saw then the work that was before me,” said Dr. Talmage impressively, hold- ing his right hand aloft and his left arm at right angles with his body and bringing his hands together as he continued. “Here was the wound of the world—here the plas- ter. How to bring them together; that was the problem. The wound of the world was its sin and sorrow—a wound as deep as its heart. The plaster was helpfulness and sympathy. What this world needs most is sympathy. Every person needs it and every person who is not-a fool wants it. When I look cut over an audience, I know that every man and woman there needs it; and the more smiling and happy man may be the one who is carrying the heaviest burden. The clerk in the store needs sympathy; the administrator needs it; but most of all women need it. “And not one man in a thousand gives sympathy where it is needed. Instead he is too often impatient and fault-finding. There are. plenty ef cuffs and kicks for every one, but very few to say: ‘This was well done.’ When I have inspected the public institutions of a city I have some- times come to the insane asylum and I have asked them from what class the greatest number of their patients came. The answer always has been, ‘From the women—from the housekeeners.’ The wo- man’s life in most homes is nothing but 2 round of breakfast, dinner, tea; with the fires to make perhaps and the children’s clothes to mend and their traming to at- tend to; and all the time confined within four walls. ‘The man goes to his office or his shop, where he has the fresh air and the sun- shine and where he meets other men and has many interests. And with these other men he does not dare show what he really is, He is all sweetness with them. But when he gets home, it’s ‘why isn’t this but- ton on;’ and this thing is wrong and that thing is wrong; and then the household ex- penses are too heavy. As if the woman did not have enough to worry her without being scolded because with all her econ- omy she has not been able to keep the expenses of the house any lower. No won- der that the insane asylums are full of women. His Daties Here. . “But to return to what I was saying,” said Dr. Talmage, with a start, interrupt- ing his uwn train of thought. “What the werld needs is sympathy, and that is what all of us—preachers and ‘Wwspaper men and all the rest—ought to try to give it.” Dr. Talmage spoke in terms of high praise of Dr. Sunderland, the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church at Washington. He spoke of him as a man of splendid mind and of great schi ly attainments. ‘J want him to stand right at his post where he has been for so many years,” he said. “He gave me the choice of sneaking in the morning or in the evening, and I chose the evening for my sermons. I have always had _a preference for the evening, anyway —why, I do not know.” I asked Dr. Taimage if he expected to give his attention to Congress while it was in session and preach sermons on its sins of omission or commission. He replied that he had not thought what he would do —that he never made plans, but zlways did what seemed to him at the time best to do. “I accepted the call to Washington he- cause the finger of Providence seemed to point that wa: he said. “Besides, I have j always thought I would like to live in Washington. I look forward to my work there with the greatest interest.” GEORGE GRANTHAM BAIN. eS Sa NOT THEIR STYLE. A Negotiation in Which Proxies Were Not to Be Thought of. the Chicazo Post. “Did you read ahout the engagement of Miss Consuelo Vanderbilt to the Duke of Marlborough?” he asked as he looked lov- ingly into her eyes. Yes," she replied softly, feeling that the momentous occasion was at hand. “It wes all arranged for them by mu- tual friends,” he went on. “Was it?” she asked. he answered. “The duke didn't make love to her himself at all.” “Didn't he?" ‘o. He got some other people to at- tend to the matter for him.” There was a brief interval of silence, ing which he looked at her and she Icoked at the floor. : “{ don't think much of the duke,” he said at last. “f wouldn't have such a_ feol around,” she returned quickly. | A moment later she looked up into his eyes, sighed and said: “We don’t want any Eurosean innovations, do we 'No,”” he replied, as he drew her a little closer to him, “and I never did take much stock in prexies, anyway.” soe The Value of a Profession. Fron: man From Life. MUNYON Makes Permanent Cures Where Physicians Fail. Mr. O’Neil Was Said to Be Incurable. Mr. Thomas O'Neil, fireman at Sailors’ Snug Harbor, Staten Island, says: “Last fall I was laid up with sciatic rheumatism. I was treated by feur doctors with every remedy known to medical science, even electricity, but they finally gave me up, saying my leg would always be paralyzed. At this time I was urged to try Munyon's Rheumatism Cure. Its effect was wonderful. I found entire relief from pain after a few doses, and, by con- tinuing *he pellets, ‘was completely cured.”” A Specific for Each Disease. Professor Munyon pats up a separate remedy for every disease. His Rheumatism Care never falls to relieve rheumatism in from one to three hours and cures in a few days“Hig Catarrh Care is guaranteed to cure watarfh, hedling the afficted purts and restoring thénro health. His Dyspepsia. Cure speedily cures all forms of stomach troubl>. His Cold Cure never fails to cure the most severe cold in a few hours. The Munyon Remedies are sold at all druggists, mostly at 25 cents a pottle. Personal letters to Prof. Munyon, 1505 Arch street, Philadelphia, Pa., answered with free medical sdvice for any disease. The Doctor’s Column. L. A. B., Detroit.I weigh 260 and am growing stouter all the time. What can I take? Take Thyroidine, extract of the Thyroid Gland, in three-drop doses, three times daily, on the tongue. Keep the bowels regular with Natrolithfe Salts. L. 0. D., New York.—What can I take for bron- chits Take Pulmoline, according to directions. It is an excellent remedy. William F., New York.—Alternate Cerebrine, ex- tract of the brain, with Testine, in flve-drop doses, on the tongue, three times daily for a week. Take saline baths, using our sea salt; sleep in a cool room, and avoid alcohol, tobacco and spices. B \. ¥.—Auswered 23 above. remedy for chronic eatarrh. Catarrhine, if taken faithfully for a month, will cure you. C. FALING BROWN, A. M., M.D., Med. Dept., Col. Chem. Co., Washington, D. 0. All letters of inquiry answered free. The Animal Extracts. CEREBRINE, from the Brain. MEDULLINE, from the Spinal Cord. CARDINE, from the Heart. TESTINE, OVARINE, THYROIDINE. — NATRO- LITHIC SALTS, for Constipation. GASTRINE, for Dyspepsia. CATARRHINE, ECZEMICURE, and other specialties of the COLUMBIA CHEMICAL CO. Now at all druggists. Send for Literature. 019 GET THIN! Dr. Edison’s Obesity Pills, Salt and Bands Take Off Fat. Fiom her residence on H street, Mrs. Jane Hur- ley ‘Thomas wi “I have now taken Dr. Edl- son's Obesity Pills and Fruit Salt five weeks. They have reduced me 29 pounds and greatly im- provid my tov fat hips ard abdomen. Writing from the State Department, Julia Lloyd Dam says: ‘Dr. Edison’s Obesity Pills and Salt have, in seven weeks. reduced my Welght 38-pounds and rendered me much more graceful, as well as healthy, I am recommending them ‘to fat lady ing from the Washington Woman's Club, Mrs. Kate Richards Reiznolds sa, Dr. Edison’ Pills and Salt have reduced me about 33 pounds in 39 days, cured me of Indigestion and completely banished unsightly liver spots which bad long marred my complexion.” Col. Thomas West, Treasury Department, says: I have, in four weeks, reduced my abdominal measurement 9 inches with Dr. Edison's Obesity n Obesity Pills, $1.50 a bottle, or three bottles for $4. enotigh for one treatment. Ob:sity Fruit Salt is $1 a bottle. Oberity Band, any size up to 36 inches, is $2 each additional inch in length. xpress or €. 0. D. orders to us, ill be at E. P. Mertz's Pharmacy, every day hereafter to explain the z ilesh by our obesity treatment. ‘A FULL ASSORTMENT OF Di. EDISON'S GOODS ARE KEPT IN STOCK AT EB. P. MERTZ’S PHARMACY, With and F nw. © G. SIMMS’ PHARMACY, 1346 N.Y. ave. n.w. Send for “How to Cure Overity,”” 24 newspaper columns, written by distinguished authors; numer- ous filustrations and 200 testimonials. Mention address exaetly as given below: G & CO.. General Agents, United States, 0, Dept. No. 19, No. 113 State street. New York elty, Dept. 4, No. 42 W. 22d street. ocl4-5ed. Gray Hair A thing of the past when Nattans’ Crystal Dis- covery ‘is used. Guaranteed to restore gray ot feded hair to its natural color in 3 to 10 positively not a dye. Stops the hair from fall out, arrests dandruff and makes the nicest di for’ the bair one can wee. No poison No sed:- ment. No stains. Price, $1. “Trial size, 50c. KOLB PHARMACY. SOLE AGENTS. 498 7TH ST. N.W. Sert, express prepaid, to any part the country on receipt of price. ja2é-tf “Press the } ‘Button” any tim And e'll :"do, the reat.” We make, a specialty of developing and printi r Smateurs and do vbeauty’” ‘work. Ane other thing, if there's anything new worth having in Christendom—in Pboto- * graphic Supplies—come to our place—and you'll tind it. a K Houghton & Delano,1416 N.Y. Avep “Up-to-date Photographic Peavle."” | _ocl8-20d_> cee as Sa a oe eg vive . . Aa eeerace ¢ oc 4-6m,42 RY Hy Ns The ‘Concord Harness” 18 THE BEST AND THE CHEAPEST. ‘That's the slinple statement of every one who has ever used it. qJlOHSE CLOTLING aud ROPES of all jeser’ . LUTZ & BRO, 497 Pa. Ave. 0c2-164 Cold, Bleak DaysWiil Come. re for them. GET S. B. SEXTON & SON'S Latrobes, Furnaces and Ranges. They Are the Best. - For sale by the PRINCIPAL STCVE DEALERS IN sei3-3m WASHINGTON, D. C. Stalee, the ideal photographer. ‘We bave just added new backsrounds and lovely new colorings for Mezzo-tint Photos— further evidence of our desire to please you best. Our Photegravures look for all the World, like steel engravings and are only $6 en! Stalee, 1107 F St. ocl8- 164 Aero ry anenne aanana RAILROADS. PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. Station corner of 6th and B streets. In effect September 9, 1895. 10:30 A.M. PENNSYLVANIA LIMITED.—Pullman Sleeping,” Di ‘Smoking and Observation Cars Harrisburg to Chicago, Cincinnati, I is, St. Louis, Cleveland and ‘Toledo.’ Buffet Parlor Car to Harrisburg. 10:30 A.M.'FASI” LINE.—Paliman Baffet Parlor Cur to Harrisburg. “Parlor and Dining Cars, Harristurg to Pittsburg. 3:40 P.M. CHICAGO AND ST. LOUIS EXPRESS.— Pullman Buffet Parlor Car to Harrisburg. Sleep- ing and pes Cars, Harrisburg to Si. Louls, Cincinnati, Wille and Chicago, - "ng. Cas to Ctcago ‘an Harrobare te Gievalsed. to lari to Dining Car to Chicago meni 7:10 P.M. SOUTHWESTERN EXPRESS.—Pullman ‘Sleeping and Dining Cars to St. Louis, and Sleep- ing Car Harrisburg to Cincinnatt. 10:40 P.M. PACIFIC EXPRESS.—Pullman Sleep- ing Car to Pittsburg. 7:50 A.M. for Kane, Canandaigua, Rochester and ‘Niagara Falls daily, except Sunday. - 10:20°A.M. for Elmira and Renovo, daily except Sunday. Fer Williamsport daily, 3:40 P.M. rt, Rochester, Buffalo and ‘Niagara Falls daily, cacept Saturday, with 0 P.M. for Willizmspor ing Car Washington to Suspension Bridge vi Buffalo. 10:40 P.M. for Erie, Cenandaigua, Rochester, Buf- falo and Ningara Falls daily, Sleeping Car Wash- Ror Palade and_the Ea For Vhiladelptia, New York t st. 4.00 P.M. “CONGRESSIONAL LIMITED,” cll Par- lor Cars, with Dining Car from Baltimore, for New York daily, for Philadelphia week deys. Reeular at 7:05 (Dining Car), 9:00, 10:00 Mining Car), and 11:00 A.M., 12:15, 3:15, 4:20, 6:40, 10:00 “and 11:35 P.M." On Sunday, 7:08 ir). 7. 11:00 A.M., 12:15, 3:15, 1 P.M. For Philadelphia A.M. week days. daily. only, 30 press, M. For Boston, without ching and 3:15 P.M. daily. For Baltimore, 6:25, 10:30, 11:00 and Limited, 4 ), 19:40 and 11:35 reek Line, 7:20 A.M. and PM. daily, except Sunday. For Annapolis, 7:20, 9:00 A.M., 12:15 and 4:20 P.M. dally, except Sunday. “Sundays, 9:00 At. ic Coust Line. Rxpress for Richmond, Jnck- scrville and ‘Tampa, 4:: A.M., 3:: wi Atlanta, 8:40 ‘P. iy, 10:57 A.M. ‘week Accommodation for Quentico, 4:25 P.M. week days. For Alexandria, 4:30, 6:35, 11:50 A.M., 12:50, 1:40, 6:40, For Pope's : M. corner of 13th street and Pennsylvania avenue, and at the station, 6th and B streets, where orders can be left for the check- ing of baggnge to destination from hotels and rcsi- S. M. PREVOST, J. R. WOOD, General Manager. General Passenger Agent. oc! SOUTHERN RAILWAY. (Piedmont Air Line.) Behedule in, effect October 6, 1895. All trains arrive and icave at Pennsylvania Passenger Station. 8:00 A.M.—Daily—Local for Danville, Connects at is for Strasburg, daily, except Sunday, and at Lynchburg with the ‘Norivlk and Western daily, and with C. & 0. daily for Natural Bridge and i ~ 11:15 A.S—Datly—The UNITED STATES FAST MALL carries Pullman Buffet Sleepers New York iy a aoe ae ae man Sleeper New York to New Orleans via Mont- Siceper for Binuas M nd St. Louis. rc 1, 4501 P-Mf.—Local for Strasburg, daily, except Sum day. 4:39 P.M.—Daily— ition Fiver,” Pullman Buffet Sleeper New fork ad Washington to At- lent. | Vestibuled Day Coaches Washington to 4:45, P.M.—Daily—Local_ for Charlottesville. 10:43 P.M.—Daily WASHINGTON AND SOUTH- WESTERN VESTIBULED LIMITED, composed of Pullman Vestibuled Sleepers and Dining Cars, Pull- man Sleepers Washington to Chattanooga, via Salls- bury, Asheville and Knoxville. New York to Mem- phis via Birmingham, New York to New Oricans via Atlanta and Mottgomery, and New York to Tampa via Charlotte, Columbia’ and Jacksonville. Vesti- buled Day Coach Washington to Atlanta. Parlor Car Columbia to Augusta. Dining Car from Greensboro’ to Montgomery. TRAINS BETWEEN WASHINGTON AND ROUND HILL kave Washington 9:01 A.M. daily and 4:32 P.M. daily, except Sunday, and 6:25 P.M. Sun- days only, 'for Hound. Hill P.M. daily for Herndon. © Returning, arrive at Washington 8:26 A.M. ond 3:00 P.M.’ daily, from Round Hill, and [06 A.M. dafiy,” except ‘Sunday, from Herndon ‘Through trains from the south arrive at Washing- ton 6:42 A.M., 11:45 A.M., 2:20 P.M. and 9:40 P.M. daily. Manassas Division, 9:45 A.M. daily, except Sunday, and 8:40 A.M.’ daily from Char- lottesrile. ing Car reservation and information Tickets, Sleep furnished at offices, 511 amd 1300 Ecunsylvania ave- nue, and at Pennsylvania Railroad Passenger Sia W, B. GREEN, Geaoral Suy jendent. 3M. CUSP. ‘Deaite Magian W. A. TURK, stencral Passenger Azent. oT L. S. BROWN. Gen. Agt. Pass. Dept. BALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILZOAD. Schedule in effect July 12, 1895. Leave Washington from ate, ‘corner of New Jersey avenue and GC’ strest. For Chicago ind Northwest, Vestibrled Limited trains, 11:20 a.m., 8:20 p.m For Cincinnati, ‘St. Louis and Louisville, Vesti- buled Limited, 3:45 p.m.; express, 12:01 ‘night. For Pittsburg and Cleveland, express, daily 11:30 a.m. and 9:10 p.m. For Lexington and Staunton, 11:30 a.m. For Winchester snd way stations, °:50_p.m. For Luray, Natural Bridge, Roanoke, Knoxville, Chattanooza, Memphis and New Orleans, 11:20 p.m. dvily; steeping cars thronzh. For Luray, 3:45 p.m. daily. B For Baltimore, week days, x4:55, 5:00, s 8 x9:30, a. x5:10, 6: For’ Annapolis, p Sunday, r Frederick, ***9:00, 5, *4:30 p.m. For Hagerstown, *11:30 a.m. and *5:30 p.m. For Boyd and way points, **9:40 p.m. falthersburz and way points, *6:00, °8:00 00, *4:33, 35, 205, * Janction and way points, ***9:00, 15 pm. Express ‘rains stopping. °4:30, °5:30 p.m. ‘ORK AND All trains illuminated with Pintsch light. For Philadelphia, New York. Boston and the East, week days (4:55 Dining Car), Dini Car), 8:00 (10°00 a.m. Dining Car), 11:30 (2: Dining Car), 3:00 (5:05 Dining Car), 8:00 p.m. (12:01 night, Sleeping Car, open at 10:00 o'clock). Sundays (1:55 Dining Car), (7:00 Dining Car), (9:00 a.m. Dining Car). (12:30" Dining Cary 3:00 ©-05 Dining Car), 8:00 (12:01 night.) Sleeping Car opens for passenzers 10.00 p.m. Buffet Parlor Cars on all day trains. For Atiantie Clty. 2:30 p.m. week days, 4:55, 7:00, 10:00 and 11:30 a.m. Sundays, 4:55 a.m., a ee ce trou Sota cae Poeerinad ay Union Transfer Co. on orders left at ticket offices, 619 Pennsylvania avenue northwest, Sew York avenue and Fifteenth street, and al _— CHAS. 0. SCULL, Gen. Pass. Art. R. B. CAMPBELL, Gen. Manager. gyi CHESAPEAKE AND ONTO RATLWAY. hedule in effect July 1, 1895. ‘Trains leave daily from Union Station (B. and P.), 6th and B sts. Throuzh the grandest scenery In America, with the handsomest and most complete solid’ train service west from Washington. 2:25 PM. D. “Cincinnatl and St. Louis Special—Solid Vestibuled, Newly Eqnipped. Elec- trie-lighted, Steam-heated Train. Pullinan’s. finest sleeping cars Washington to Louisville, Cincinnatt, Indianapoiis and St. Louls without change. Diving Car from Washington. Arrive Cincinnatl 8:00 a.m.; Indianapolis, 1 m., and Chicago, pem.? St. Loui 5 p.m.; Lexington, $:35 a.m.; Louisvitle, 1 Y ) am. P.M. DAILY.—The famous “F.F.V. Lim- A’ solid vestibuled train, with dining car 10 Ited.”” and Pallman Sleepers for Cincinnati, Lexinzton and Louisville withont change. Pullman Sleeper Wesh- ington to Virginia Hot Springs, without change, week days. ‘Observation car from Hinton. Arrive 250 p-m.; Lexington, 6:00 p.m.: Louise ; Indianspolls, 11:05 p.m.; Chicago, St. Louis, 7:30 a.m.; connects Ip NDAY.—For Old Point Only rail line. Depat for M ‘eM Express for Gorlonsvill Chirlottesville, ‘nesboro’, Staunton and pri pal Virginia points, daily; for Richmond, daily, « cept, Sunday. S Pullman So cickets at company’s of . 513 and 1421 yiwas venue. —_—s* meg. W. PULLER, wht General Passenger Agent. COMMISSIONERS OF DEEDS. COMMISSIONER OF DEEDS AND NOTARY PUB for all states cod territories a SPECIALTY by HB, Ofice (tasement), 1321 ¥ st Always in peofice bours. may te ofall the States and Territories. 317 4% st. nw. (ew Bquity building). ai7-tf Le . 30 IN EB. BEALL, JOUN E. MITCHELL, *Camumicsioers.ct Dede od state and terri- Yi Ses Ciao se SO Tyg: Se ———_ CO Be eee sn UNDERT W. R. Speare, Undertaker & Embalmer one oak ane Everything fest-clams a racet reasunable terms. call Sa fale \