Evening Star Newspaper, November 16, 1895, Page 17

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1895—TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. 17 THREE HUMORISTS Stories About Mark Twain, Bill Nye and Whitcomb Riley. NOT APPRECIATED AS BOYS "tInnccents Abroad” Was Written in This City. REAPING A GOLDEN SUCCESS ae (Copyright, 1895, by Frank G. Carpenter.) Eugene Field dead! Mark Twain ruined Bill Nye overworked! HESE ARE RE- cent items of news ut men whose wit and pathos have made the world most laugh and ery during the past decade. The story of the lives of funny men is often full of sadness. It requires hard knocks to develop the gen- tus of such souls, and behind the poetry and the humor ‘may be fcund the trouble and the heart-breaking which has enabled them to know the hu- man heart, and by their pens to play the saddest and the merriest of strains upon its strings. How few geniuses, are appre- ciated when they are young! Eugene Field's father was a celebrated lawyer, but he evidentlv had no idea of the literary ability cf his son. The boy, almost spoiled by the fortune left him, drifted into news- paper work,and thence, step by step, climb- ed into the literary niche which he will now hold in American history. Mark Twajn’s fatier and himself, according to his own statements, were always on the most distant terms when Mark was a boy, and he says that a sort of armed neutrality existed between them. His fa- ther had no appreciation of his humorous antics, in and the stories which are related Tom Sawyer were largely based upon dents of Mark Twain's early life which no charm for his father. The old man could not see the humor of jumping off a two-story stable, and when Mark at a circus gave the elephant a plug of to- bacco, the hubbub wn: followed was by no means with the approval of the old man, 10 had gone along ‘to take care of the boy and look at the animals. At an- other time Mark pretended to be ta'king in his sleep, and got off a portion of a very original conundrum in the hearing of his father. The elder Clemens reproved him in a way which he does not like to remem- ber to this day. In speaking of it Mark asks his friends not to pry into the re- sults of the experiment, usually coneluding with the sorrowful remark, “It was of no consequence to any one but me.” New Stories of Whitcomb Riley. It was the same with James Whitcomb Riley. His father never appreciated him, and I doubt whether he ever realized the real greatness of Riley's genius. A short time ago Riley and one of his newspaper friends were talking about the days of their boyhood, when Riley said: “They never thought I'd amount to much at home. My father was a country lawyer, and he believed in facts. Facts were all he cared for, and he thought that the boy who couldn't ijearn arithmetic ‘wouldn't amount to anything. My brothers were a good deal like in. They had an aptitude for mathematics, and they stood well in their classes at school. As for me, I couldn't learn arithmetic. I never liked the crooked things called figures, and I couldn't see the sense of working away at the: As for reading, I got along with it very well. I usually read the books through for the stories before the class had ma tered one-third of them. But I couldn't make it In arithmetic. The result was that the whole family pitied me. I was told again and again that I would probably have to be supported by the rest, and when I ran off and went away with a circus one day to stand at the door and extol the virtues’ of the sideshow: did not make a sensation. My mother perhaps wiped ker eyes and thought that I might come back some day, some way; but to the rest it was settled with the phrase ‘I told you so.’ I don’t think my father ever understood me. I shall never forget one thing which estranged iae from him. “It was when I was quite a little fellow. We were just commencing a new reader, and, as usual, I had finished it he- fore the class had read ten lessons. There were several pieces of poetry in the hook and one of these I read over and over again. It was very pathetic, and I always had to cry when I read it. At last the class came to it. The day we were to read it I sa t in my and figured out just what v I would have to read. I knew w stood in the class, you know. Well, I saw that I would have to read those verses where I always cried. I knew I couldn't read them before the class without crying, and I wasn’t going to baw! in public. There Was only on id th: to run away. Just before the cl ed and while the teacher's b: way ovt of it, was was ed I slipped out. I had hardly ieft the gchool house before I met my father. asked me what I was doing away from school. I had just been reading the life of George Washington, and I concluded that I would try the cherry-tree act with him. I told the truth, saying, ‘Father, I didn’t want the boys to laugh at me, and I knew it would make mecry.’ “Well, I'll see if I can’t make you cry,’ said the old gentleman, and he picked up a switch and gave me ane of the hest whip- pings I have ever had. I don’t blame him now. His nature was such that he could not appreciate the situation. He probably thought my answer wes merely an He Raymond and Mark Twain. @o get out of school, but the injustice of it ‘was such that it was a long time before I felt close to my father again. After ing away from home, I dr'fted about ere and there, and finally turned up at Indianapolis in the Journal office. I beran to write poetry, and In time became rather notorious for that. The poo- ple of Indianapolis made a good deal of me, and now and then rumors of my reputation reached the little country town where my father was living. He conldn’t see what the people saw in those things of mine to be worth so much money, and he finally gave upt s to understand it “I went down to see him frequent ohe day I persuaded him to come me to Irdianapolis. When we the city I asked father to com @ clothing store. He was pret ed for a country lawyer, but 1 well as I thought he ought to be fo in with me to wel @ianapolis. I bought him a shoes to hat, and then toc my hotel. I told the lanc ed the best rooms in the house. e@bout the city with me, iev went he was pointed out as father. I tel you, that did me good. It was the proudest day of my life.” Milt Nye’s Big Check. “I wish you could have seen Riley when he said that," the newspaper man went on. “Triumphs of that kind are the really great triumphs of one’s life. We like to have the world speak well of us, but it is only the praise of the people at home that we really care tor. Now, take Bill Nye. His experience was much the same as that of Riley. We were talking about it the last time I saw him. The Nye family came from Vermont, and of the whole tribe tney thought that little Edgar Wilson would amount to the least. He was rather sick- ly, and when he started west to go just as far as he could go, there was not much grieving. The rest of the family, matter- of-fact people, were doing well, and two of the boys, who, like Riley’s arithmetical brothers, knew something of figures, had fone to Minneapolis to practice law. Bill Nye went as far as Wyoming before he stopped. He made a reputation there in connection with the Laramie Boomerang, and tnen came east and increased it. He now gets more than the salary of the chief justice of the United States out of his news- paper work alone, and his lecture business is equal to the interest on a good-sized fortune. He has almost entirely recovered his health, which has been temporarily de- ranged by overwork, and with a little care he will come out all right. He is, at any rate, practically independent. His father still lives on his Vermont farm. He and Bill correspond now and then, and not long ago the old farmer wrote his boy that he believed he would sell the farm. He said it was heavily mortgaged, and it was all he could do to pay the interest. He had written to Bill Nye’s brothers in Minneapo- lis, but tney didn’t seem to be able to do anything. He still owed $2,500, and as he was an old man, this was too much for him to carry, and ne thought he would sell. As Bill Nye read this his eyes began to fll. He is, you know, a mighty sensitive fellow, with all his fun. He happened to have some money on deposit in the pank, and he took out his check book and filled out a check for $2,500. He signed it in such big letters that it almost covered the face of the check, and wrote his name in full, Edgar Wilson Nye. This he sent to his father, and told him to pay off the mortgage, and as he did so, away down in his sou I venture, he said to himself: ‘Well, I ss they'll think something now of the ckly little cuss whom they thought they would Rave to support, who didn’t know figures, and who had to go west to inake his fortune.’ * * Riley on Lecturing. I see it stated that James Whitcomb Riley is to go on the lecture platform again this winter. If this is true, he has changed his mind during the last few menths. At Indianapolis I was told that the best way to make James Whitcomb Riley angry was to mention the word “lec- ture,” and that he had given the work up for good. A close friend of his, who has much to do with his legal business, told me how Riley recently received a big lee- ture offer from New York. A manager there wrote, offering him $1,000 for four lectures. Riley went to the telegraph of- fice and promptly declined, and he said at the time that the knowledge that he could afford to refuse an offer of that kind made him happy. He has been making a great deal of money out of his books of late years, and his income is now bigger than that ef a Congressman. He is not an extrava- gant man, and he lives quietly in Indianap- olis with Fis brother-in-law, who, by the way, fas a geod deal to do in the manage- Hill Nye. ment of Fis business. He reads a great deal, and during the past two years has been devoting himself to the English clas- sies. He is very fond of Longfellow, and one of his greatest favorites is Robert Burns. Mark Twain’s Tour. The real secret of Mark Twain's tour around the world is the publication of a new book of travels. His lecturing will pay his expenses and will net him a small sum, but in all probability not enough to pay his debts. A new book of travels will bring him tens of thousands of dollars, nd it will have a sale all over the world. experience in book publish- siven him a knowledge of what ‘d to get his advice as to a book of this ind. In answer, he drawled eet the fol- lowing: “There—is—only—one—kind—of—a—book — >tter—than—a—book—of — 4s—book.”” to tell me something neces in travel work, d gave a tur different story a me of them than that generally hetieved. and nott made, as a rule, the most of the ou. of a beok, and he said he got a royalty of only 5 perc nt on “The Innocents Abroau,” or from fifteen to twenty-five cents per volume. He will do better with is “Round the World Travel,” for he will probably publish it himself. He told me that the company that published “The In- ocents Abroad” made a fortune out of it, upon my asking him if his royalty was . very small one, he replied: not as such things usually go, though L thought it was when I made the contract. I was advised to accept it, how- ever, by my friend, A. D. Richardson, who teld_ me that be only got + per cent for writing ‘Beyond the Mississippi,” and that per cent was a f004 royalty One hundred and twenty-five thousand copies of “The Innocents Abroad” were sold within three years after it was pub- lished, and the Hartford Publishing Com- pany, Which issued it, made more than $100,100 out of it. I doubt whether Mark that —will—seil not Twa “WW, and it was probably through his desire to remedy such an un- just division of the profits that he went into the publishing firm of Chas. L. Web- ster & Co., through which he issued many of his bouks, and in connection with which he lost his fortune. How “The Innocents Written. It was here in Washington that “The ocents Abroad” was written. It was away back in 1868, when Mark Twain was thirty-two years old. He was at the time writing letters for the San Francisco news- papers and adding to his income by a sal- ary of $6 a day as a clerk of one of the comnuittees of the United States Senate. Senator Stewart, the famous advocate of the silver question, was the chairman of the committge, and he gave Ciemens the job in order *that he might have the leisure to write the took. There was little work connected with the committee, and Senator Stewart hired a man at $100 per month to do that. He had seen Clemens’ notes of his trip with that party of pilgrims who went through the Holy Land, and he believed with him that the book would be a suc: However hard a worker he may have become afterward, Mark Twain at this time liked to loaf as well as write, and it was all that Senator Stewart and his friends could do to get him at his work. After he got started, however, he kept it up like a steam engine.” He wrote from noon till midnight y day, and he finished the book in two Every line of it was penned with hand, and he had no stenographer typewriter to help him along. This is way he does most of his work, and @ has a hook on hand he makes it : to stick to it until he gets writing a certain amount every was very particular in the com- of ‘The Innocents Abroad,” and up man he got ich it was ‘ote the book in a little reet, in a part of the since been given up to Abroad” Was ore . and a man who knew him at the is me that Mark Twain had about dirtiest room he ever saw s heated,” said he, “by a little drum stove, which was full of ashes, and out of which a great dust came whenever a bit of coal was thrown into it. The air was Jus. Whitcomb Riley. sour with tobacco smoke, and cigar ashes Were scattered over the carpet. The floor was littered with newspaper clippings, and Mark Twain, with his coat and vest off, worked away at the hook in the midst of the rauss. He seldom stopped work before mid- night, and would sit up until nearly morn- ing reading, smoking and singing. The suc- cess of the work was a great surprise to him, and he proudly wrote one of his friends shortly after it was published that {t had taken thirty tons of paper to print it. I have been over most of the ground which is described in it, and it was wonderfully true to the life. It is far more accurate than many of the guide books, and Mr. Clemens must have made very full notes in the midst of the scenes which he describes. The books which followed paid him much better, as far as royalty was concerned, and the royalties which he recelved from the dramatization of his stories have been con- siderable. ‘The Gilded Age,” in which John T. Raymond made an international reputa- tion for Col. Mulberry Sellers, was especial- ly profitable. In connection with this, I saw the other day an oil painting with Ray- mond and Twain standing together shaking hands with each other. The painting was framed in the refuse pulp which comes from the grinding up of the old greenbacks by the Treasury Department. On a brass plate be- low it were printed the words which so often came from Col. Sellers’ moyth, ‘Millions in it,” and as I looked I could not help wish- ing that these words would tell the story of the results of Mark Twain's tour around the world, and that there would be “millions in it” for him, FRANK G. CARPENTER. ——— The Modern Romans, From the Hartferd Courant. Under the lighting light of the yellow sum of Oc- ober, Close by the side of the car track, a gang of Dagos were Working: ; Pausing a monient to catch a note of thelr Hquid ian, Faintly I heard an echo of Rome's imperial as Brokea-down forms of Latin words from the ‘and Forum, Now snivothed ‘ver by use to the musical lingua Romana. Then the thought came, why, these are the heirs of the Romans: ‘These zre the sons of the men who founded the Empire of Cuesar; These are they whose fathers carried the conquer- ing eagles Over ali Gaul and across the sez to Ultima Thule; ‘The race-type persists unchanged in their eyes and profiles and figures. Moscular, short und thick-set, with prominent noses, ‘am dominos, gentemque togatam."* See, Lulinus Is swinging a pick with rhythuteal motion; Yonder one’ pushing the shovel might be Julius Cacear, Lean, deep-eyed, broad-browed, and bald, a man of ‘a thousand; Further along stands the jolly Horatits Flaccus; Grim and grave, with rings in his ears, see Cato the censor. On the side of the street In proud and gloony seclt job, stood a Celt; the race enslaved by ons. arkets of Rome to meet the expenses Paythro, ther. ‘one who resembled the great ye hathen! I'll ¢ lifted from us, in the tenth gen- it fs on top, but time may bring Lis Turning thy by a Dago. ian down, once more to he bossed ses Trolley Car Speed. From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat. ‘There is in the public mind a confusion of ideas as to the speed of electric street cars. Two inexpert observers guessing at this speet will rarely come within mileg of the correct estimate. Yet it is possible for any- body, by a simple calculation, to arrive at very nearly accurate information. An elec- tric car going at the rate of a mile an hour travels SS feet ina minute. At two miles an hour it makes twice that distance in a min- ute, or 146 feet. At three miles an hour the distance traveled in a minute is three times 88, or 264 feet. ‘This distance of 264 feet is about the length of an average city block. If it takes a car a minute to go a block the rate of speed is three miles an hour. If the car goes two blocks in a minute the rate is about six miles an hour. Three blocks in a minute means nine miles an hour. Four blocks in a minute indicates a speed of about twelve miles an hour. At five blocks In a minute a car is going fifteen miles an hour. When six blocks are traversed In a minute the speed is eighteen miles an hour. A rate of seven blocks in a minute is a speed of twen- ty-one miles an hour. It must be under- stood that average blocks are required to make good such estimates. soe Oculnr Demonstration. From Truth. Mistress—“‘Bridget!| How did you break that vase? Tell me this instant!’ pate Bridget—“Shure, mum, Oi was doostin’ it loike this, and it shlipped out of me fingers lotke— thatiire WHITE HOUSE HOPES Governor” Mgrton Maintains a Dis- creetarid Decided Reserve. e? ny He Také# Special Pride in a Drove Die le * of Guernseys. cr oth Vist 10: RESIDENCE £1 HIS SUCCESS IN LIFE (Copyright, 1895, by George Grantham Bain.) HEN GOV. L. P. ning his big farm at Ellerslie, on the banks of the Hudson, his superintendent suggested to him the advisability of put- ting the cow house near the fields where the fcdder was culti- vated, so as to econ- on.ize labor. “But that would not be so convenient for my friends who wish to see the cattle,” said Mr. Morton. “I think I will have it near the river.”” So it happens that the cultivated ground is bebind Mr. Morton's beautiful home, be- yond the park which surrounds it, and the model cow house is in the far foreground, almcst out of sight amorg the trees, but situated near the main highway and pleas- antly accessible to Mr. Morten’s visitors. As in scientific farming eighty rods is the limit of the distance-which ensilage corn can be hauled at a profit, end Mr. Morton raises 2,000 tons of this fodder, which has to be hauled an average of a mile, it will be seen very readily that Mr. Morton 1s farming for his health rather than for profit. Mr, Mcrton’s forty-five farm hands travel an unnecessary 15,000 miles every year so that his friends may find the cow barn and the famous herd of Guernsey cat- tle easily accessible. In fact, Mr. Morton does not run the farm for his health, though he told me a few days ago that he believed the country life he had enjoyed this summer had done him good. When I had seen Mr. Morton last he was approaching the end of a try- Levi P. Morton. ing session ‘of Congress, more than two years ago, and his duties as presiding offi- cer of the Senate had been a great physical ain on him. All of his old friends in the Senate who have seen him this summer have commented on his splendid physical appearance. He has the pink flush of boy- hood in his cheeks and his step Is firm and elastic. Whatever of ‘health Mr. Morton is gain- ing by his sammers on his farm, he is run- ning that farm solely to satisfy a reason- able pride in the ownership of the largest and finest herd of Guernsey cattle in the world. He had that distinction two years ago, when fire destroyed his cattle barn and devastated his herd. He has regained all that he lost then, and he is adding con- stantly to his stock of cattle. Just now he owns two hundred head of Guernseys, but there is room in the new cattle barn for four hundred head; and until he increas the herd to its limit by purchase or pro- duction he will not sell any of his calves. So says H. M. Cottrell, his superintendent. Pleasant Way of Farming. Mr. Morton does not take an active part in the work on the farm. He does not go into the fields, as the picture makers of some of the newspapers would have the public believe, and he does not feed the chickens with his own hand, or even super- intend that operation. He keeps in touch with the farm work, and he knows what is being done in field and in barn; but he does not give the work his perscral supervision. He leads an ideal life in the handsome dwelling which is his heme during the summer season. He has spent two or three days of each week there almost all summer, and he has seldom been without guests. Many stop for a day to take a look at his famous cat- tle; and this summer has seen visitors from Australia and Kussia and many other re- mote places at Filerslie. Any one who has a genuine interest in cattle Is welcome to inspect Mr.Morton’s famous herd, and noth- ing delights Mr. Morton's heart more than to take a personal friend on a tour of in- spection of his farm. Ellersiie is one and a_ quarter miles south of the little town of Rhinecliff, on the New York Central road. You can’ see the model cow barn from the train as you go spinning along in one of Mr. Wagner's palace cars. But the kouse of Mr. Morton is out of view of the railroad track and beyond all chance of annoyance from the ringing of bells or the blowing of whistles. It stands far back from the road, three hundred feet above the river, and the drive- way which leads to Its entrance winds through a beautiful park, whose lawns are closely clipped and dotted here and there with green houses. Mr. Morton raises enough flowers to supply florists, and the vases and the bowls on mantel and table the in his home overflow daily with choicest, freshest roses. During the ter these green houses will keep the exec- utive mansion at Albany well supplied. A Palatial Home. I stood on the veranda in front of the &overnor’s house and scanned the view. Dropping almost abruptly from the site of the dwelling, the well-kept lawn billowed away to a clump of trees which cut off the view of the public highway. Beyond I caught a glimpse of the big barn and its attendant ‘houses, and beyond these and the tree tops which helped to hide them was the broad, smooth, shining surface of the Hudson, | 1 = “On a clear day,” said Gov. Morton, “you can see the Peughkeepsie bridge ‘below ther and tis arm swept the horizon to the south, while his eye dwelt gratefully on the prospect.’ The Poughkeepsie bridge is fifteen miles away as the crow flies. To the left of: the mansion the ground loped away more gradually. There was a tle lake, half hidden by a rise in the ground, and a picturesque Venetian bridge stretched across the water in full view. Beyond was a ‘bit of timber, the trees aglow with the rich tinting of the autumn leaves. « Within the dwelling are such luxuries as make living a: pleasantness—rich rugs, spread over glassy floors, couches and easy chairs, and draperies rich and taste- ful. The receotion hallway ts a delight, and the library a thing for envy and re- gret. I remember the appointments of Mr. Morton's office in the Capitol when he was Vice President—the silver candelahra and the inkstand of cut glass, and the other desk ornaments. Mr. Morton's own Kbrary, with its flat-topped desk, covered with fit tings of Russian brass and enamel, re- called it to me strong! A Model Stable. Mr. Morton's estate at Ellerslie com- prises nearly a thousand acres. Of these some six hundred acres are under culti- on, always a adjunct to the cattle raising. Everything on the farm is subor- dinated to the Guernsey herd. This does not mean that Mr. Morton makes pets of his cows and t around their necks, or i h them in quarters so fine that he could give a ball in the cow shed. There is no agpliance known to his superintendent which would contribute to the health or comfort of the cattle which has not been introduced in the barn. There is 2 machine in the outer compartment of it which will cut up a ton of fodder in almost no time; there is a stor- age room adjoining in which 2,000 tons of green fodder are stored every winter. There are electric lights everywhere and automatic devices for extinguishing fire if it should break out suddenly. There are trol- leys for carrying the food to the cattle who, for the most part are kept in open stalls, separated from one another by a light rail. And above all there is a force of laborers who keep the barn as clean almost and as sweet-smelling as a parlor. But there is a distinct absence of silver plates over the stalls. Even the one which houses the famous Bretonne, the prize Guernsey of the world, has above it only a plainly finished board sign on which is painted the record she has made of 753 pounds of butter and 11,219 pounds of milk in ayear. Bretonne is the most valuable animal in Mr. Morton herd. She is worth $12,500, and the entire herd is valued at about $50,- 000; but it is difficult to place a valuation on anything like Mr. Morton’s property. It is like a collection of old paintings. It might be invaluable as an aggregation to a fancier of Guernsey cattle and it might have a limited selling price if It was thrown on the market. It has cost Mr. Morton a great deal more than $50,000, I have no doubt. And though the Ellerslie farm gells 900 quarts of the finest milk each day the year around, the expenses and therefore the cost pe of that herd are increasing day by ay. Secret of a Successfal Career. Mr. Morton is an eminently unsatisfactory man from some points of view. As a speci- men of the New England energy run to prosperity—and well-earned prosperity which I am sure no one begrudges him— he is very perfect. As an example of the upright men successful in politics because of his uprightness as much as his ability, he is a shining light. But in a self-made man like Mr. Morton one looks to find an ex- planation of success—some rule of life which can be quoted as a guide to the ambit- some extraordinary freak of forttune p brought prosperity without effort, some romatic episode from which a success- ful career can be dated. Mr Morton's career is devoid of all roman- licism. He tells me he never had a rule of life—a method to which he can attribute his success. When he was a clerk in a dry- goods house in Boston he used to work from seven or eight o'clock in the morning until sometimes a very late hour of the night; but that was because the hours de- manded of a clerk by mercantile establish- ment were long in those days than they are now—because an employer was sup- posed to buy the needful services of his em- ployes, not merely a certain agreed amount of their time. Gov. Morton has never made any great stroke of fortune. His wealth was ac- cumulated gradually, first in the dry-goods business in Boston, in which he was a part- ner, then in the dry-goods business in New York, where he established himself in i854; then in the banking business, in which he is still interested. He has avoided specula- tion, as speculation is commonly understood, all through his business career. But, as he says, there Is more or less speculation in even recognized legitimate business. Doubt- Jess he has lost a great deal of money by helptng other people get a start. Ltkes Public Life, Mr. Merton does not like fo talk about himself. Modesty has spoiled the public career of many a man, but I have no doubt it is one of the qualities which have made Mr. Morton's possible. He tells me he never had an idea of entering public life when he was a young man; and that when he was nominated for Congress by the busi- ress men of New York he was taken com- pletely by surprise. He was equally sur- prised, no doubt, when he was named min- ister to France. He has enjoyed his polit- {cal experience, and unlike most business men who complain of the exactions of a public life, ke says he has found mental relaxation in it. It opens up a new field of thought and is a grateful variation of the monotony of commercial affairs. Mr. Morton’s career as sninister to France was in ple»sing contrast with that of man if not most of our diplomats. His gr Wealth enabled him to keep up to the demands of the position. and his good judg ment made him equal to its diplomatic re- quirements. As V President he noted for his fairness presiding officer and for his social entertainments. And all that is required of the Vice President is to pre- side over the deliberations of the Senate and be a shining social light, unless you include that other function named by Mr. Ingalls of Kansas—waiting for the President to die. There was not a man on either side of the Senate chamber who did not admire and like Mr. Morton, and he reciprocated their kindly feeling in the fullest degree. In the half cur or more that I spent in his library on my recent visit to Ellersiie he asked many questions about the Senators whom I had seen during the summer, and his personal interest in them and their welfare extended seemingly with equal warmth to republicans and democrats, So it developed during my brief interview with him that the governor was the interviewer and I the interyiewed; while his pleasant courtesy rmed criti- cism of his reticence on public questions. About the Presidency. John Sherman says Mr. Morton is not a candidate for the pr That is more than Mr. Morton says. When I broached the subject to him, he said: “Let me see. Sherman’s book ts not out yet, is it?” And then he drew my attention to the view of the Hudson and talked about the Pough- keepsie bridge. He did say that his health was good. and that has some bearing on the presidential question, for the newspapers friendly to some of the other candidates have heen representing him as far from strong. Just how great Mr. Morton's fortune ts is something that no one but him knows, and he says that “when a man gets into public life he finds his wealth increasing very rapidly." He is reported sometimes to be worth $5,000,000. It is probably not more than 00,000, if it is so much. With the coming of cold weather, Gov. Morton will go to Albany for the winter. He and his family will establish themselves in the executive mansion, and, though Mrs. Morton and her daughters may be seen in New York occasionally, most of their time will be spent at the state capital. The gov- ernor Is a conscientious executive, and he arrives early at his office in the capitol. He remains there until 1 o'clock, when he goes to the executive mansion for luncheon. He rareiy returns to the capitol during the afternoon. When he is in his office at the capitol he is as easily accessible as is his private secretary, Col. Ashley Cole. GEORGE GRANTHAM BAIN. Began Too Late. From the Indianapolis Journal. “I have come,” said the benevolent-looking gentleman with the high brow, “to ask your co-operation in our crusade against the bar- hbarous practice of wearing the wings of song birds as trimming for ladies’ hats.”” “It can’t be stopped now,” said the pros- perous citizen. “So many birds have been Killed that the price has become so high that every woman in the land will have a bird- trimmed hat or a divorce.” Se Quite a Distinction. rom Tfe. “I thought I saw you coming out of a dime museum yesterday.” Perhaps you did. I'm employed in one “What? about you.” “Oh, yes, there is. I’m the only man who's never been run down by a bicyclist."" Why, there's nothing freakish Had Experience. From Harper's Bazar. Jones—“i read in a scientific article the other day that men had the finest foreheads, but that women had the a ntage in chins.” Smith—“‘I didn’t have to do any reading to find that out.”” soe Always the Same. From Fliegende Platter. Merchant (who meets in the wilderness a lion)—‘‘Please address yourself to my at- torney here.” THE BLACK CAT AUNT MATILDA’S WARNING TO WHINING CHILDREN. Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. “I declar’ to gracious, ef you all chil’ren don’t fly out of dis here kitchin dere surely won't be no dinner ‘tall fur anybody dis blessed day. Den your pa an’ ma wonder what in de world I'se been doin. “Oh, never mind that, Aunt Matilda,” cry the children. “Tell us a story first and then we will get cut.” “All right, den, chil’ren, I'll tell you fes’ one. I ain’t never told you of de chile what was turned into a cat, has I?” “No, we have never heard that, Aunt Ma- tilda.” “Well, den, dat’s what I'll tell you all "bout—'specially as I done keerd one of yeu cryin’ "bout de house a good deal late- ly. An’ I hopes you'll all not furgit dis story, fur it was fur cryin’ an’ whinin’ dat de chile I has in mind was turned into a cat. “Dis chile dat I tells of lived with his pa an’ ma in as nice a house as you done wish ta see. He had all he want, an’ right smart beside, to tell you all de truth, but nothin’ ‘tall didn’t seem to suit him, an’ he cry an’ whine, an’ whine an’ cry, day an’ night. So, in de course of time, chil'ren, de habit growed an’ growed on him so dat at last he couldn’t stop it. “Do you mean, Aunt Matilda,” inquired one of the children, “that the poor child at last could not stop crying and whining?” “Yas, indeedy; dat’s jes’ what I means percisely, chii’ren. It growed on him so dat he cculdn’t no more stop it den he could stop breathin’. Of course his ma an’ pa had 'monstrated wid de chile, an’ told him dat cryin’ an’ whinin’ ain't do no one, man, woman or chile, good, but all dere ‘mon- strances didn’t do no gocd, an’ so at last de chile’s pa catl to see de Wizzle Wuzzle Man ‘tout him. “The Wizzle Wuzzle Man, Aunt Matilda?” the children wonderingly ask. “Dat's what I says, chil'ren,” remarks the old woman, and in a way, too, which convinces the young ones that all they are to do is to sit still and listen. “An’, as I was a-sayin’, de chile’s pa he goes to call on de Wizzle Wuzzle Man, an’ tells him how dat chile cry an’ whine, an’ whine an’ cry all de time. His pa say: ‘Ain’t dere any wey of stoppin’ it, Mr.Wizzle Wuzzle?” an’ he say: ‘Yas, sah; dere is. say, ‘it'll done stop itself, an’ mighty soon at dat.’ “Of course, de chile’s pa mighty glad to hear de Wizzle Wuzzle Man say dat, an’ he go home pewerful happy. But he no sooner git in sight of his home when he see de chile’s ma runnin’ out to meet him, wring- in’ her hands an’ cryin’ like her heart breaK sure, She tell him dat jes’ a little while befo’ he come de chile got to cryin’ an’ whinin’, an’ so powerful hard dat all at once a big black cloud filled de room, an’ when it blew ‘way de chile was gone, an’ in his place was a great, big black cat, wid big red eyes. De cat, she say, was a-cryin’ an’ a-whinin’, an’ a-snappin’ an’ a-snarlin’ like it was wild, an’ when she opened de door it flew out into de woods, spittin’ fire at every jump. “What did the little boy’s papa and mam ma fo then?” the children anxiously in- quired. “Well, dey leok "bout everywhere to see if dey find de chile. Dey look high an’ dey look low, but dey don’t find him, an’ dey know, den, dat de Wizzle Wuzzle Man done changed him into de black cat. De little boy’s pa he go to see de Wizzle Wuzzle Man again, an’ he ‘cuse him of changin’ de chile into de cat. But Mr. Wizzle Wuz- zle say he didn’t have nuthin’ ‘tall to do wid it, dat it was de cryin’ an’ whinin’ dat id it, an’ den he go on to tell de little bey’s pa dat while he didn’t have nuthin’ ‘tall to do wid changin’ de chile into de cat, he do have powerful lot to do wid changin’ cats back into children ag’in.” “And did the Wizzle Wuzzle Man change the cat back into the little boy?” the chil- dren ask the old woman. “He didn't at fust, I tell you, chil'ren. "Deed, it was a mighty long time befo" he did. You sce, it was jes’ like dis: Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle he tell de chile’s pa dat he very sorry, an’ would like to change de cat back into de litle boy, but he say dat it ain't goin’ to hurt him to be de cat fur a time, as de longer he be de cat de more he'll "preciate de dif'rence frém bein’ a cat an’ bein’ a chile. “So de Kttle boy's pa he go back home mighty sorrowful like, an’ de chile’s ma cry an’ cry till she most go wild. But de Wizzle Wuzzle Man he keep still. All dis time de cat stay in de woods, in de darkest part of it, out sight of everybody, but a- cryin’, an’ a-whinin’, an’ a-snappin’, an” a-snarlin’ all de time. Things go on dat way fur a long time, till one day the Wiz- zle Wuzzle Man he zo ‘way into de woods, catches de black cat, an’ den sends fur de chile’s pa an’ ma. When Gey git to Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle’s house, de cat ain't no longer a-cryin’ an’ a-snarlin’, but layin’ down front of de fire jes’ as peaceful an’ quiet as you please. Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle tell de chile’s pa an’ ma dat he guess he can safely change de cat back into de little boy now, as he had done come to b'lieve dat de chile had been cured forever of cry- in’ an’ whinin’. So, Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle, he throwed somethin’ in de fire dat made a big black smoke, an’ when it blew up de chim- ney, lo and behold, dere was de little boy standin’ where de cat had been, a-smilin’ an’ a-laughin’, an’ from dat day to dis dat chile ain't cried or whined, an’ dat was many, many years ago, chil'ren. “Now, you see, chil’ren,”” remarks the old woman, as she dismisses her audience, “it’s mighty easy fur a chile, by cryin’ an’ whinin’ all de time, to become a-snarlin’, snappin’ black cat, but jes’ riccolec’ dat de Wizzle Wuzzle ‘Man ain't bound to turn every cat back into a chile, an’ dat de chances is dat once you is, by cryin’ an” whinin’, a black cat, a black cat you is goin’ to be to de end of time.” — Annoying the Police. From the London Daily News. A novel way of annoying the Paris police has been discovered by one of the class who look upon them as their natural enemies. Some fellow has several times pretended to commit suicide by jumping from the Pont Neuf, near that statue of Henri IV which has given rise to one of the most widely cur- rent French proverbial sayings. Just when a number of people are passing toward dusk, he gets up on the parapet, says, “I am tired of my Kfe,” and appears to Jump into the Seine. Instead of jumping into the water, however, he falls on the parapet and ‘the manager, crawls along in the semi-darkness to an- | other part of the bridge, when he climbs up and joins the crowd in order to watch the | “fun.” Policemen run up, boatmen make off to the rescue, and in the midst of the hubbub the cause of it all says what is the French ang equivalent of “i say, aren’t those bob- going it?’ and then runs away laugh- Up to the present he has not been ing. caught, but the whole performance was wit- nessed the last time by a policeman in plain hes. Owing to the confusion and the number of vehicles in the roadway, this particularly objectionable practical joker was able to make his escape. eo Women in Russia. From the Humanitarian. As compared with the women of other European countries Russian women work more and weep less, they love and they hate in perhaps greater intensity, they marry with more deliberation, they abide by their choice more firmly, they exalt their miss’on of motherhood more highly, and on the bear- ing and rearing of their children they lavish all their energies of mind and body. To have strong and healthy children, sons strong as lions’ wheips, and daughters flaw- less a8 doves, is the primary am mn of every normal Russian woman, and in the upper and educated classes of society she often chooses her busband (when she has the choice), not from passion; not from love; not far place or riches or power, but with an eye to this purpose solely—“Will he make a guod father of my cnildren?” In conclusion I should like to aver that the lot of a Russian woman is a happy one, whatever may be her class. Comparisons are odious, but if we compare the actual po- sition, I should say that, on the whole, the position of Russian women was better than that of English wom: and their influence politically and socially was greater. Didn't Care to Investigate. Fron Pack. Mrs. Bridie—‘Try my angel food, dearie; I made it myself.” Mr. Bridie—“Take it away! nostic, anyway I'm an ay Have your grocer send you some of Huyler's Co- coa and Chocolates with your pext order. Once tried, always used. THE DRUG CLERK’S STORY He Talks of Headaches and Nervouss ness and Gives 2 Care for Both, From the Evening News, Newark, N. J. It was the drug clerk's turn to tell a story of one of his experiences, and the reporter, expecting seuiething good, as usual, settled himself comfort~ ably in a chair prepared to give bis undivided ate {enifon to the speaker. The latter was Menry, Mier, who resides with his parents on Aquednet street, Newa “.J., and who hands out medicine! of Dr. Anirew F. Burkhardt'e sug store at 271 Orange etreet, this city. “Perhaps I can do nothing better,” he begam, “than to tell you the secret of my good health. It fs a story that I have told to many recently, aud. as it resulted in good in each case, it may be worth your while to listen to it. To begin with, 5 was not always strong and robust as I am mow. Long hours of work and hard study had left me im & wretched condition. Frighiful, iingering heade aches found me a ready victim, and at times I wae So nervous that the dropping of a pin would cause me to give a violent start, and then I would be seized with a fit of trembling that was, to put It mitdly, exceedingly bothersome. Well, I began to Coctor myself. Now, I flatter myself that I know something of medicine; but with all my knowledge I cculd find nothing that would cure those terrible > nervousmess, cked up a bottle my band would shake as though I bad the chilis, and if it was a powder that I was handiing I stoot a good chance of spriuke Ung it all over these black trousers. Things went fiem bad to worse, and I soun realized that a mam of my physical condition bad better not attempt we mix any medicine, “ “Dry a box of Dr. Williams' Pink Pills,” said Dr. Burkhardt one day; and, as you know the doe- tor's advice is always worth following, I got the Pink Pilis and began to take them. Aladdin's lamp never performed the wonders of these pills. Would you believe it, before I had tuken the contents of one vox my headache began to give me a day oi occasionally, and soon it left me entirely? How about my nervousness? Well, the pills put an end to that with almost startling abrupiness. You see, I know enough about the business to appn the importance of following the prescribing physician's directions, and by paying strict atteation to those given by Dr, Williams with each box of bis Pink Pills I was soon another fellow. Look at ine now! A picture of health, eh? Well, that is what Dr, Willams’ Pink Pills will do for a man, or ® woman, either. See, I can hold this glass of water out now without spilling a drop, but I couldn't do that two months ago, and “What is it, ma’m?” be asked, as a neatly dress ed woman came up to the counter. “A box of Dr Williams’ Pink Pills? Yes, ma'm. Fifty cents, please. Thank you. ‘These Pink Pills are great things,” said Me, Maier, as he turned to the reporter again, and the latter, after all he had heard, thought 50, too. Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills contain all the elements Necessary to give new life and richness to the blood and restcre shattered nerves. They are for sale by all druggists, or may be had by mall from Dre Williams’ Medicine Company, Schenectady, N. Yue for 50c. per box, or six boaes for $: WEDDING SURPRISES. Some Presents That Were Not Expecte ed—Not Altogether Unwelcome. From the Hartford Tims. Not infrequently a marriage ceremony has an added air of romance attached to it by the bride receiving from a known or un known source a wedding present which was quite unexpected. One or two such au- thentic cases have occurred during the past year, when the lucky wedding parties were thrown in a state of great excitement as @ result. A curiously timed present was that which arrived at the wedding breakfast held In honor of Lord X—'s marriage with Lady M—. Ten years before Lord X—— was @ director of a company which turned out to be a miserable failure, largely owing to the embezzlement of great sums of money by who escaped to Argentina, Lost sight of altogether, he was soon for gotten, and in a year or two Lord and his feilow directors in part recovered from the blow. As the wedding party sat down to breakfast, a man servant handed Lord X—— an envelope, full almost to bursting point. Opening it, the peer was amazed to find in it notes to the value of £10,000), sent to him by the errant manager, who. according to the private note accom- ing the money, had made one or two lucky speculative hits in the Argentine, As Lord X——'s wealth was not very great, the wedding present of £10,000 was an ex- ceedingly welcome one. Equally curious was the inc happened in South Lordon some time age. According to the rewspaper reports at t time, about twelve years ago a young girl, daughter of well-to-do tradespeople, lost nearly £20, which she had saved out of a very liberal allowance. The money was taken from a drawer in her bed room, and the thief was never detected. On the girl's wedding morn last year she received an anonymous letter, staling that the writer ent which was the person who stole her money while she was yet In her teens, and_ inclosing banknotes representing as nearly as pos- sible the amount stolen, terest added. Naturall, lighted, and the anor forgiven. Not always are these unexpected wea- ding presents of this practical and useful character. At a recent wedding a bride- groom was very much disgusted by receiv- ing at the wedding breakfast a bulky-look- ing parcel, which evidently appeared to be a late present. Unsuspecting evil, the new- ly married man handed the parcel to his wife to be opened. She opened it, and found therein a number of letters in a girl's handwriting, apparently love letters written to the bridegroom of the morning. Fortu- nately the affair was a joke on the part of the man’s bachelor friends, but it needed all his asseverations of innocence to calm the natural indignation of the young wife —se- Stunted by Coffee Drinking. From the Londoa Telegraph. Some respectable statisticians hold that the strong marked tendency of the inhabit- ants of Saxony to become dwarfed in stat- ure is in a great measure one of the mis- chievous results of over-indulgence in s0- called coffee, which in the families of the poorer classes is drunk from early morn to dewy eve, and is a substitute for tea, soup, flesh meat, dessert, ete.. like the miraculous manna of the ancient Hebrews, The stuff employed in Saxony, which plays such havoc with the nation, has, of course, little or nothing in common with the beans of Mocha, whose jollifying effects upon the unsuspicious goats that chewed them first drew atte n of Mahometan monks to the wonderful properties of the berry. Most articles of food are Mable to adul- teration, especially when they do not hap- pen to be primary necessaries of life, mer- chants and middlemen acting on the’ prin- ciple that it is always profitable to mingle the useful with the agreeable. But few, probably none, have had so many “excel- with compound in- the bride was de- ymous writer was [lent substitutes” offered in their stead as coffee, in which not a particle of the origi nal article has a place. 00 The Joys of Polttics. From Harper's Bezar. Manager—“Good morning. What are you doing?” Candidate—“I'm writing to a man in the third ward, who wants to know what I think of the tariff. Manager—“So! What is he? A proteo-= tionist or a reformer?’ Candidate—“I don’t know. I'm telling him what I think. Manager—“‘Great heavens! man—walt. Don't be so impulsive. Don't tell him what you think. Tell him what he thinks.” <Q disease. I visited From early childhood until I was grown my family spent @ fortune trying to cure me of th Hot Springs and w sign of general health built up, Ay snd I hare never had any return of the dis- <2 case. I have often recommended 3. 8. 8. Known <5 treated by the best medica but was not benetited. When all things had failed I determined yy to try SS Sand in four i KH montha: (enitrely cured. ie Wi} The ts rible eczema \/|] was” gone, SCnot asi WW AVJL at tert, mys yet Never falls to cure, even when all other remedies have. Our treatixe on blood and skin diseases mailed a free to any ad- dress. (PDL RKROKK SWIFT SPECIFIC €O., Atlanta, Ge.