Evening Star Newspaper, December 7, 1895, Page 16

16 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1895-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES, THAT HATEFUL GIRL BY JOHN STRANGE WINTER. * (Copyright, 1895, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.) the world, it is just as we make it. We see not the flowers if we sow not the seed." | I always hated her—why? Oh, I can hard- ly say why; perhaps because she was tall and’breezy and piquant, because all the time I knew ‘that her soul was sick within her at the bitterness of her surroundings she yet held her head ever so high and always looked a3 if the whole world was lying at “her feet. Somehow, whensthe world was at my feet, I was always conscious that I never looked like it. We had been children together, Ruth Jeaffreson and I, not chums, oh, no, for she was the elder by at least a couple of years, and that counts when one is at the juvenile party age. I remember, years and years ago, when we were little bits of girls some nine and eleven years old that a bay gave me a wedding ring out of a cracker. I put it on my small finger—and it was a small finger, for I was a frail little creature well accustomed to hear myself spoken of as one that a breath might blow away—and I said: “I am married now. I am his wife.” Some of the other children laughed; indeed, I think they all laughed except Ruth Jeaf- freson, and she looked at me with a pair of solemn eyes, and then at the boy who had given me the ring. She said nothing, but I : suddenly felt myself turning hot and cold, for Ruth's looks said “little idiot!” as plain- . ly as if her lips had framed the two uncom- plimentary words. How well I remember that night! Freddie Delamere was a_boy, and Freddie Delamere had belonged to Ruth Jeaffreson body and soul—well, always. It was only a foreshadowing of what would come later. I liked Freddie Delamere al- ways, and Freddie Delamere liked Ruth. I think Ruth was very fond of Freddie Dela- mere, but she did not want to marry him, “No, I never go to the parish.” and Freddie went out to Martiniove and gied of some one of those horrible scourges that young men do die of when they lea thelr native land to carry civilization into other climes. Poor Freddie! .1 could have forgiven Ruth Jeaffreson if it had been only Freddie Delamere. After all, no girl can help not caring as much for a boy as a boy cares for her when it happens once; but, curiousty enough, it al- ways seemed to happen with her, and it always happened that those I liked best seemed to be irresistibly fascinated with Ruth. I never could tell why, for she was really not good looking, her profile was not half as good as mine, although I was cred- ited with having the biggest nose In Blank- hampton; still f had a good profile, nobody could deny it. I was fair—too fair—with a good deal of smooth, fine, almost golden hair, and a very pale, fine complexion. | looked what I was, exceedingly delicate, and my hands were small and slim and very white. I was very siim and slight in build, too, but I really was very interesting Jooking. As for Ruth Jeaffreson, she was broad in the shoulder and small in the waist, and she carried herself with a swing and an air that, to me, was most offensiv: She was quite ordinary in coloring, just brown hatr and a pale face, without a good feature in it; she had rather big eyes, it is true, big and dark, and sometimes she uséd to look so somber that one almost pitied her; then the next minute there would come a glint into her eyes, a toss to her head, and you could feel nothing—at least no other girl could—but an outra. -d sense of impotent helplessness to think she could take everything so coolly as she did. I never could tell what the men saw in her, but they did, they all liked her—at least, ail the men that I liked liked her, and that was what I never could forgive Ruth Jeaf- freson for. There was Tom Ogilvie. Tom might have married anybody in Biankhamp- ton; but though everybody thought he was going to marry Ruth, somehow it didn't come off. Ruth went sailing along in her old fashion, and Tom went off to India, and nobody heard anything more of him for a dozen years at least; so far as Blank- hampton was concerned that was the end of him. Then there was u big doctor down from London-—by big I mean a great sprcialst. I danced with him at several Ittle private dances. He always complained of his heart, told me he ought not to dance, and that he could not take more than half a turn round the room, apologized profusely, and asked me to take a turn in the corridor Instead. But he could dance a whole waltz through with Ruth Jeaffreson. I suppose I didn’t dance as well as she did, or my step didn’t suit him quite as thoroughly. At the end of the second dance I heard him ask her if she w: likely to be going to the parish next day—we always call the cathedral the parish” in Blankhampton—and she said out aloud, with a laugh: “No, I never go to the parish.” I always did. I used to s in the nave, Just at the corner of the cho seats, and the next day I saw Mr. Hinch- man come quletly tn, go lefsurely along examine several of the old tombs, and the meander along looking at the choir screen as if he had never seen a choir screen In his life before. Three minutes afterward Ruth came sailing in, lifted her eyebrows when she saw him—I have very good sight and TI saw it plainly—but suffered herself, half unwillingly, half in a jesting kind of way, to be drawn off into a secluded corner where their best friend or their worst ene- my would have found it hard to recognize them. I had never hated Ruth so much as I did that afternoon. That affair did not last long. It was pretty heavy while it did Ruth Only Meant Spoiling My Chance. | termined she would stay me out, just to last, but like all flerce flames, it soon seem- } ed to burn itself out, and Mr. Hinchman went back to his work in London, leaving Ruth sailing about with her head higher the air than ever. 1 thought that he had gone off and left her lamenting, like Lord Ulan in the old story; but a c n of mi met him in London several years after- ward, and she declared that, from the in- terested way in wh’ch he Ir quired how Ruth was, and whether she was married yet, it was very evident that she had made a di impression upon his heart, and that it her own fault she had not become Mrs. Hinchman years before. Then there was a man in the 119th. That was the heaviest affair Ruth Je ever had. For once in her gay an: care sort of life, it was plain that she had [ye hit right to the very lowest depth of er heart. [ don't wonder that she hit, and hit hard, for the man was very a@ttractive and very much in love. I never res do; trod the earth tnat girl was one, I was coming out of the parish one Sunday even- |ing—you know the parish doors are all protected inside hy what you might call hoods of carved oak, like a little room, knew the exact details, but he married somebody else, and for months Ruth went about looking like a ghost, -with a smile { that was a little too set io be quite natural, | and her hea@ higher im the air than ever. ! I think I hated her worse at that time than 1 did when she was able to crow over me, because I knew that she was suffering; I knew that she was hurt and hurt badly; but as for the white feather—not a bit of it, not so much as the very tip of a single quill would she show. . After th. t business she never seemed to care what she did; they were all fish that came to her net, and, on my word, there wasn't a man in the town but fell under the spell of her fasctmation. They pretend- ed they didn’t; they would carelessly say she was not a bad sort, “a ripping fine girl and good fun, and all that, don’t you know.” But you had only to look at them to see what their real thought was, and that any one of them would have jumped at the chance of marrying her tf she would only have given a word of encouragement. I never hated anybcdy as I hated that girl. There was Bill Errington. Bil Errington used to belong ta me; we had been sweet- hearts years and years before. when he was a boy at the gratamar school and I was a girl at Miss Jenkinson's. For years Bill al- ways sent mea valentine, and a Christmas card, and an Easter egg, and somehow it had always been an understood thing be- tween his family and mine that one day should become Mrs. Bill Errington, or, as they always call it in Blankhampton, “young Mrs. Errington.” I don’t say thet there were not others that I would rather have married—I would have liked poor, dear Freddie much better than Bi Errington, but you know a girl in a place like Blank- hampton has not got over and above much chance of marrying anybody, and if she doesn’t want to stop an old maid (which, T suppose, no girl wants to do) she makes up her mind to take the best that comes along. I had quite made up my mind that 1 would take Bill Errington all ia good time, but Ruth Jeaffreson came sailing along and she knocked that on the head in the twink- ling of an eye. I can’t tel! why. She didn’t want Rill—not a bit of it. I believe that she would rather have died than have married into the Errington family, although they were very swacger people and would have been none too pleased if Bill had marr'el ver meant marrying Bill; because we were not even on speaking te! indeed, I hadn't spok to her for years and years, not since we were quite smal! children meeting at the same juvenile parties, and we had never been friends even then. But, all the same, she did spoil my chance with poor Bill. | Tt wagt on for about six weeks; wherever one wont one met the two, she all nods and smiles, and he, poor fellow, looking in the very sev- enth heaven of delight. I wasn't at all sorry when she did jilt Bill—which, of course, she did—hecatse he ought to have } been well aware of what she was, and yet he deliberately went to his own destruction, just as a poor silly moth goes floating about a lighted candle. The worst of it was, he wouldn't stay in town after it happened, but went away, throwing up his father’s good practice—for his father was a lawyer—and going to London to gain experience. I said at the time: “If ill Errington gains experi- ence of a wrong sort he will have Ruth Jeaffreson to thank for it.” It. Apparently she did not care, for she sailed about just tn the same old fashion, some- times looking as if life was too much for her altogether, and then, as it were, shaking herself into action again and glinting round with her black eyes to see what fresh vic- tim she could find upon whom to practice her fascinations. I suppose it was her bold- ness that took the men. She was so hold, and yet she never gave me the Idea of being at all courageous, for when you stood right up to her she always seemed to give in-—as the boys would call it, to “knuckle under.”” I remember once I was sitting in Bon- ner’s in the new tea rooms, you know, which everybody in Blankhampton finds such a comfort. The principal room was 2 large, lovely apartment, with five window: overlooking St. Thomas’ street. Ruth Jeatf- reson had just before been very danger- ously fll, I darcsay she thought she look- ed interesting on account of it, but I thought how plain she was when she came in ard ordered some tea, sliting down at the next window to mine. The window was a little open and she shut it, taking up Punch and burying herself in it with an air of interest which I knew perfectly well she was far from feeling. I really did not see, if the girl had been ill, that she need T cannot think She Buried Herself in “Punch.” expect the whole of a great public tea room to be entirely at her disposal. I fel? the day most sultry and oppressive, so 1 opened my window, and I rested my e!how on the ledge, so that she could not pos- sibly find any excuse for shutting it again. She never even looked up—too great a coward, you know—she never moved, she never so much as ra!sed her head or qulv- ered an eyelid, but when her tea came, or whatever it was she had ordered, she said, in the most meek tone you can possibly imagine: “Put it at the furthest table. T feel the draught." Bonner's old head wait- er was a fool; I had always thought so. He asked her if she would like him to ask me to have the window shut. He spoke sotto voce, but I heard it for all that, and made up my mind that I would say “No!” But do you think that girl stood up to me? Not a bit of it; she just said: “Oh, no,” aloud and in the most absolutely Indif- ferent way, “not at all. I will move; it's all the same to me where I sit.” And move she did. I knew she had only come into Bonner's to look over the papers that are always lying about, Punch, and the “Pie and the Queen, and all those. Nobody else happened to come In, excepting one old lady who was evidently from the country and wanted to add up her purchases while she got her afternoon tea, and there that Ruth Jeaffreson stayed, and I determined I would see her out. I’ couldn’t very well shut the window after I had opened it; indeed, I believe to this day that she de- keep that window open. It was a horrid cotd day at the beginning of May—you know how cold May is sometimes—with a bitter east wind blowing, and I was simply chilled through and through before that hatefvl girl got up and sailed away down the street as if the whole world belonged to her. I never even had the satisfaction of knowing that she was ill after it. I was in bed for six weeks with bronchitis. That didn't mike me like Ruth Jeaffreson any the better. Yes, she was a coward; if ever a coward with a couple of swing doors to break the draugh: to the end of the nave—I was rather in a hurry to get out, and I saw Ruth in front of me with her old mother. . I did not cringe back because there, and perhaps I did push her—I think somebody pushed me from behind—but she was such a coward that, instead of resenting it, in- 1 of letting me pass or taking no no- quite a lady would have done, she turned round and she said very pointedly: “Lam so sorry. I beg your pardon.” Well, you know, she had nothing to beg pardon for; it only showed me how xious she was to scrape acquaintance th me. And I wouldn't have known her for a fortune. Years went by, more years than I like to think of. Somehow it isn’t so nice, when you are past your first bloom, past your teens, thinking of the years that have gone by forever, when you feel that you are get- ting nearer and nearer to dressing St. Catherine's tresses, and that you are going to be like all old aunts and cousins whom you pitied when you were younger, because they were old maids. However, I always had the satisfaction of feeling that Ruth Jeaffreson was at least two years older than I was, and there was a satisfaction in it. Pecple used to say about her: “Ah, it is a cuse of going through the wood and through the wood; it is to be hoped she won't pick up a crooked stick at last.” I hoped that she wouldn’t pick up a stick of any Irad, but nobody knows how I would have loved to be married—not because I cared a straw for being married, for mar- riage’s sake, but just because I would have lked to be able to look that horrid girl straight between the eyes, and to make her feel that I was a married woman, and she was not. But fate is unkind to some peo- ple. A rumor suddenly went through Eiankhampten that Ruth Jeaffreson had sot engaged, and was to be married im- mediately, And it proved true enough. She had sailed off on a country visit, had quiet- “Did you ever meet Mrs. Adrian came about with this man in tow Iccking man, too—in fact, I have heard peo- ple speak of Adrian Hoit as a very hand- some man, but for my part I could not ad- mire a man who could wish to marry Ruth Jeaffreson. He did, however, and he did | marry her, And so she sailed away out of | Blankhampton life into a wholly new j sphere; and that {s ten years ago, and here am I, Mabel Grantley still, a spinster and a wallflower. Life is hard upon some peo- | ple! . I see Mrs. Adrian Holt sometimes. She is more horrid even than she used to be, more breezy, more head-in-the-airish, more suc- cessful, with a more radiant smile and a happier glint in her eye each time that I e her. I was in Paris a coupie of years ago, and, while staying at a boarding house there, I ‘met a young lady who knew Mrs. Adrian Holt in London. It seems as If, al- though she has long ago shaken the dust of Blankhampton from off her feet, I cannot get rid of the shadow of my rival. This girl was quite rapturous about her—just a chance acquaintance picked up in a board- ing house! I had been quite civil to her, 1 had told her a_ good deal of my life ‘in Blankhampion, I had told her how I was closely related to the highest dignitaries of the cathedral, I had made quite a friend of her, and yet, one day, when I was glancing over a society paper, and I happened to see the name of Mrs. Adrian Holt mentioned, and said In a casual kind of way: “Did you cver meet Mrs. Adrian Holt? She was a Elankhampton girl" if that fool didn't break out into a perfect tirade of rapturous admiration about her. It is strange that, even when our paths haye gone widely apart, I should still be haunted by the stadow of that horrid girl, who always stepped In between me and my happiness. dh, don’t said my ne nd, “I think she is perfectly charming. L said, shortly. “I don’t like her. 1 [ think she {s’ perfecily horrid—at least she used to be when she was a girl. I never eculd bear her at any period of her life; in fact, I always hated her, and it’s no use pretending anything else. For years I al- wavs made a point of being as rude as I po: sibly could to her.” “But why?” asked | the other, in a tone of the greatest wonder; “why sho1ld you do so? What did she ever do to you? “Why? Well, I always hated her. I, per- haps, cannot tell you why, but I did, and I always shall. I never disliked anybody so much in my life. Frankly speaking, I de- test her."” “But for what reason?” she asked. “Oh, well, I did,” I said, as casually as I could. “I did.” I wasn't going to tell her exactly why. But I have a reason—and I have toid it to you. fr: ae Written for The Evening Star. THE DOCTRINE OF JOHN BULL. A Modern American Version of the Same. (Suggested by a recent squib in Punch, entitled “The Monroe Doctrine") T am John Bull, of some fighting renown, And never ler go my pull; If Jonathan “should seck explanation,"” I tip bim the name of Jobn Bull; Yes, tip him the oume of John Bull, ‘The prowess rad rete of John Bull; “And ‘tisn’t sucprising that I should keep rising," Whilst Pm my old self, John Bull, “Of the wniverse I'll be director,” What I want I will have to the full, “And If there's no room for the oth ‘The othera muy dicker and pool, When I tip them the name of John Bull, ‘The prowess and acts of John Bull; “Tocugh to them abhorrent,to me they are current, ‘When hurrah fer old Suap-up" John Bull! In America, Exypt and India, My old Hon doth rampage and roar, And if pigmy states “cut up their shirdies,"* ‘They'll be taught useful lersons gulore, By spanks that will make them quite sore, Spite of frlends that refuse to shed gore; And my imeteor-fay forever shall wag, ‘Triumphant the wide world o'er. My grand fiets at thelr own good pleasure, “From ocean to ocean shall go'— Poaching at will—and who will dare to say ne? Yes, who will dare to say no? Not “oetopus-handed Monroe His movements sre entirely too slow, And Bayard, so civil, would deem {t an evil “To stick to the text of Monroe. My ambassador to the Yankee-Doodles, By no means Is stupid or dull, And if Olney “should cut up bis didos,"* Must tip him the name of Jobn Bull, Explain to him Mr. John Bull, And all the dread power of John Bull; “Then if things look squiffy, back down in a Ths 70 Kinsmen beloved by Jchn Bull. ZENAS C. ROBBINS. ee Austin Corbin’s Contract Colony. From the Buffalo Commerctal. Austin Corbin’s ship load of Italian colo- nists, destined for Sunny Side plantation in Arkansas, were permitted to land at New Orleans. Although many of them had not a penny, they could not be classed as paupers, as each of them held a title to land at Sunny Side. Neither could they be regarded as contract laborers, because they were not under contract to perform labor for any one, but to cultivate land for them- selves. The agreement made between them and the Sunny Side Company—which was erganized under the very liberal joint stock law of Connecticut—transfers to each colo- nist twelve and a half acres of ground, with a house, for the sum of paid in the course of twenty-one years, with interest at five per cent. The pay- ments on the principal are to be annual, rut the company may waive a payment “when, on account of some unforeseen cause, the result of the harvest fails to be sufficient to pay the annual rental, it be- ing understood that the payments overdue from one year to another should be paid by purchaser at the first good harvest. ‘The company also obligates itself to buy the cotton raised by the purchaser at cur- rent price, and to submit any differences that may arise to arbitration. Most of the immigrants came from the province of Tuscany or from the Adriatic coast, CHAT WATH THURSTON | 18 Nebraska’ New Representative in the Senate and His Career. STRUGGLING. YEARS AS A LAWYER ap td His Wife Drays a Pen Picture of the Senator. 101. t SC a ‘PUBLIC QUESTIONS AS TO (Copyrighted, 1895, by Frank G. Carpenter.) 3 A BOY I HAD two ambitions. One was to be a lawyer and the other was to be a member of the United States Sen- ate.” These were the words of Mr. John M.Thurston, the man who took Gen. Man- derson’s place at Washington thisweek as the new Senator from Nebraska. They were uttered the other day during a long chat which I had with him. I had asked him a number of questions about his life and ne had told me how starting as a poor boy he had worked his way up the ladder of fame and fortune, He is now, you know, one of the most prominent men of the west. For years he has heen the chief counsel of the Union Pactfie railroad. His first ambition was long since attained. He has now for the first time realized his second ambition, as the represatstive of one of our greatest states in the United States Senate. Before I give you the story of his life as he told it to me let_me describe his looks. Picture to yourself a slender, studious- looking man ‘of about six feet. Let him be well dressed and well groomed. His black silk hat is of the latest block. His Prince Albert coat was cvidently cut by a Broad- way tailor and his pantaloons show a de- eided crease. His hair is as black as his hed boots. It fs cut long, and it is ed rather carefully across his scal above a high, full forehead, with just suspicion of baldness. Let this man have eyes of the deepest blue and let his long, thin face be intelectual in its cast. Let his complexion be dark and rosy, and let © make you think more of a college ssor than of a great lawyer and of the chief representative of the politicians of une cf the ijveliest and roughest states of the Union, and you have a fairly good idea of John M. Thurston, the new United States Senator from Nebraska. If you could chat with him you would find him & man of much personal magnetism. He has a melodious voice and # good, healthy Senator Thurston, laugh. He talks freely and he tells a good story, He is a man of ideas, and after he has passed through the apprent iP | which the elder Senators make all yo men undergo before they are permitted to } do much in,the Senate chamber he will | probably show himself to be one of the | ablest and most influential men of that body. : A Family of Farmers. I asked Senator Thurston to tell me some- thing about h's ancestry, and especially as to where the name Thurston came from. He replied: “I don’t care much about genealogy. 1 think it is more important to know what a man is than what his ancesiors have been. As for Thurston, the name is Scandinavian. It originally meant Thors-ste!n, which, translated, is, I believe, the son of Thor. My ancestors came from Scandinavia to England. They emigrated to America about 1686 in the I'ttle ship Mary Anne, and the first Thurstons landed at Newburyport. Some of the family took part in the revolutionary war, and they were, I believe, very respectable people. By the time my father appeared on the scene they had drifted as far west as Vermont, and it was in that state that I was born. “What did your father do, Senator?” I asked. ‘He was a farmer, as his father and grandfather had been before him. There were, in fact, seven generations of farmers in my line before my father tried to make a living out of the poor land on the Ver- mont mountains. He added, however, the tanning of leather to the tilling of the soil, and in time he saved a few thousand dol- lars. This he took with him and went west to invest it in reat estate and to grow up with the country. 1 was just seven years old at the time we left Vermont. We first settled at Madison, Wis., and thence went to Beaver Dam, where by a series of un- successful investments my father lost all he had.” How One Boy Got an Education. “Where did you go to school, Senator?” “I had a hard time to get an education,” replied Senator Thurston. “I went to the common schools at Madison and Beaver Dam, and afterward worked my way through a small college in Wisconsin. The most of my schooling was during the spring and fall My summers and winters were devoted to work.” “What kind of work, Senator?’ “AN kinds,” was the reply. “EF did any- thing I could get to do. I worked with my father on the farm, and I remember I once made a lot of money making a fence. I got 12 cents a rod, and I have made as high as forty rods a day, which any fence maker will tell you is pretty good work. The fence was of boards. The posts had to be sunken in the ground, and four boards nailed on to them and another board on top. ‘Ihe ports, in order to be of an even length, had to be sawed off in most cases after they were set. I made considerable in this way, but the chief part of my income came from hunting and fishing, which I car- ried on in the wiméer.”” The Struggles of a Young Lawyer. “How did yéu come to study law?” “I can’t tefl that,” replied Senator Thurs- ton. ‘When I was quite a small boy I said I was boun rte bg two things. One was to be a lawyer, and the other was to go to the United States Senate. I suppose my father put the law idea #nto my head. At least, I studied law as soon as I got out of school and I was admitted to practice at Beaver uu femember your first case, Sen- ator?” “Yes,” was the reply. the peace case, .A man had been arrested for whipping a boy. The prosecuting at- torney was Called away and he asked me to try it. When the town learned that I was to plead the case they crowded about the of- fice. The justice complimented me on my speech, but he gave the verdict to the other side. This was so with nearly all the cases of my earlier practice. I lid not seem to succeed, and it was a long time before I made anything to speak of.” “How did you happen to go to Omaha?" “J wanted to find a new city and grow up with it,” replied Senator Thurston. “I took a map of the United States and studied the towns of the west, wavering a long time be- tween Omaha and Kansas City. Omaha had then 15,000 people, and I finally chose i “It was a justice of “How much money had you when you got there?” “Just forty dollars, cradling wheat?” “That was not much to start out life with, was it, Senator?” said I. “It seemed 2 great deal then,” replied the man_ who is ’ getting more than four hundred dollars a month from Uncle Sam. which I had made “It was tore than my partner had, and he, by the way, had gotten married and brought his wife with him, using the jour- ney as « wedding trip.” A “How did you spend your forty dollars?” “The most of it went into furniture and food. My partner and his wife had noth- ing, and as I boarded with them my money had to supply the kitchen. We waited for some time, expecting to get practice, and finally matters became so desperate that my partner had to send his wife back to Beaver Dam, and he left Omaha and went further west. He stcpped in Denver, and he is now a very successful lawyef there. I stayed in Omaha.” “But how did you get along?” “Oh, I managed to make a little now and then,” replied Senator Thurston. “I had au office with another firm, and they gave me a little ante-room, which I used for my pri- vate office and sleeping reom. I brought a Buffalo robe and a quilt with me, and I made up a bed on the floor. I had to try all sorts of shifts to get along, and one time, I remember, when the financial skies were very black, I bought a box of crack- ers at wholesale and Mved on them‘ until the sliver lining came out from behind the clouds. This silver lining usually appeared in the shape of a five-dollar fee, which sometimes lasted me for weeks. After a time, however, I did better. My practice gradually grew and I had all that I could do. I then became the counsei of the Union Pacific railroad, which I held until after my election to the Senate.” “Senator, you have been a successful lawyer. Do you think the chances for mak- ing a success at the law are as good today as they have been in the past?” “Yes; the fleld 1s a large one, and there will be always room for the right men.” “Will you drop your practice, now that you are in the Senate?" “To a large extent, yes,” was the re- ply. “I have resigned from the Union Pacific, though in doing so it is with the statement that there would be no impro- priety in my continuing my connection with it, excepting the need of my time for my public duties. The Union Pacific railroad 1s in the hands of recetvers, which were ap- pointed almost directly by President Cleve- land and Secretary Olney. In acting for it I would be acting for the United States.” Public Questions. ‘ell me something about your work in the United States Senate, Mr. Thurston. Alcng what lines do you propose to move?" “I can't say as to that,” was the reply. | “I shall probably not make any speeches for some time. The position is a new one to me, and without there is some special de- mand for it I do not expect to push myself for ward.” How about the silver sentiment of the west, senator? How do the people feel in Nebraska" “The best sentiment in Nebraska,” replied Senator Thurston, “is in favor of some sort of bimetallism, which will not unsettle val- ues nor impair the relations of the two metals. I don't think our people want free coinage, though they would be glad to see any legislation enacted which would pro- duce a larger use of silver upon the proper basis.” How about Venezuela?” é T have not studied the question suffi ciently to express an opinion,” was the re- ply. “We people in Nebraska have a very hazy idea of the situation. We have not, as a general thing, a definite idea of just what the Monroe doctrine is; but I believe the people of this country ‘are ready to stand by the Monroe doctrine, and to say that they will fight for their rights con- cerning it.”” “How about a war with England?” “There is no danger of that. England cannot afford to risk a war with us. She remembers the damage which we did to her commerce in the wars of the past, and she appreciates that we could ruin it to- day. She has Canada, almost unprotected, lying along our northern borders. One thousand men could destroy the usefulness. for the time, of the Canadian Pacific rail- road, and it is not an improbability in case of war that Canada would not become ours. England’s policy is, and always has been, to a large extent a pocket-book policy. She has vast interests in the United States, and the issues must be very important be- fore she would risk a war with us. The West vs. the East. “Is not the west more’ patriotic than the east?” “I think it Is," replied Senator Thurston. “The citles of the east have enormous property interests, and they are apt to dis- cuss whether a thing will pay rather than as to whether it is patriotic. I believe that if foreign gunboats lay outside of Boston or New York, there would be quite a num- ber of business men who would be willing to coritribute a sum to induce them to leave rather than to have a bombardment. I don’t mean to say that the west ts not anxious for business—that it does not love money. But I do believe that our people are more patriotic. We would fight first and take care of the business later on.” Mrs. Thurston Describes the “Senator. At this point Mrs. Senator Thurston en- tered, and the conversation again became personal. Mrs. Thurston is closely associ- ated with the Senator in his work. The two have spent hardly an evening apart since they were married, one Christmas day now twenty-three years ago. She goes with him during his political campa‘gns and she was present at seventy-two out of the sey- enty-four political meetings at which he spoke last fall. Mrs. Thurston also came from Vermont. Her name was Martha L. Poland, and she ts a niece of Senator Luke P. Poland, who was so long known as the father of the House of Representatives, Mrs. Thurston knows more about the Sen- ator than any other person on earth, and it was in his presence that I asked her to tell me something as to what kind of @ man Senator Thurston was. She replied: “He is a very curious combination. One of his faults is that he trusts people too much. He believes that all the world is honest» whereas, as we very well know, a good part of it is not.” “Is the Senator a hard worker?" I asked. Yes," replied Mrs. Thurston; “he works very hard along his own lines; but he is lazy along others. One secret of his strength is that he knows how to get others to do his work for him. The old theory was that a man should never let others do what he can do himself. Senator Thurston never does anything he can get any one eise to do—that {s, when he knows that the other man can do it as well as himself.”* Yes,” interrupted the Senator; “that's true. Had I not done so I could never have accomplished my work. I don’t believe in a man doing what others can do just as well, ff. there are other things which he can do a little bit better.”” ‘But how does the Senator do his work?” said I, directing my question at Mrs.Thurs- ton. “Can he do it without worry? Can he leave his work at the office?”* “Yes, he can,” was Mrs. Thurston's reply. “He comes home tired, but always gets in- terested in the children, and when he goes to bed he sleeps like a baby.” “How about that, Senator?" sald I, turn- irg to Mr. Thurston. “Were you always so? Is freedom from worry a natural or an acquired trait?” “It is acquired,” replied Senator Thur- -ston. “It Is x better policy and much more com- fcrtable. The result is that I get my sleep, and I am never troubied with worry, except during a murder trial. I can’t sleep then. I Fave had fourteen such trials, and though I rave cleared each of the men whom I have deferded soorer or later, I have worried ex- ceedingly over them. I'do not like to try such cases, and I have made a resolution that I never will defend a man accused of murder again if I can possibly help {i FRANK G. CARPENTER. eee A PHILADELPHIA SPECTACLE. A Practical Joke Which Wa: by the Lookers-On. From the Fhlladelphia Record. Next door to the office of a popular mag- istrate In a central portion of the city there is a small tailor shop which has this sign in the window: “Trousers pressed while you wait.” Quite a number of poll- ticlans frequent the magistrate’s office, and they often drop into the tatlor shop to have the “bags” taken out of their trouser knees. One day last week Select Councll- man “Tommy” Ryan and a number of up- country delegates were sitting in the tal- lcr's back room while their respective pan- taloons were being ironed. Representative John H. Fow, who is for- ever on the lookout to play a practical joke, passed the door of the shop and took in the situation at a glance. Mr. Fow raised his mighty foghorn voice in one wild cry of ‘fire! The effect was instan- taneous and startling. Mr. Ryan, the first to dash through the shop door, was clothed, as to his nether extremities, in flaring scar- let. Two of ‘he country politicians wore gray and white, but the third wore, veside the startled look upon his face, not much of anything. His “biled” shirt was pretty long, but it did not prevent the few pedes- trians on the street from seeing his bare knees knocking together with fright. When the victims realized the trick that had been played upon them they scurried back to shelter, Enjoyed business of advertising. Enables you to profit by tisements that will sell goods SSOSOHS HOS GS OHS GOGSOSSOOOSOHOOESS 10 Spruce Street, A CYCLONE OF SWALLOWS. How a Vessel Was Beset by Myriads of the Birds. From the Savannah News. A Russian steamer, hailing from Odessa, has for some time been engaged in the Mediterranean trade, principally carrying passengers between Leghorn and Malaga. On one of the recent trips it encountered an adventure which will never be forgotten by either the crew or the passengers. The passage had been a stormy one, but the day of the occurrence was unusually fine. Though a rather heavy sea was running mest of the passengers were on deck. Sud- denly the lookout called: “Hurricane cloud leeward.” At once there wis great consternation aboard and a number of people sought safety below. The captain, however, after glancing at the barometer, gave it as his opinion that it was no hurricane cloud. The black mass that they saw hovering near the horizon was, he thought, a par- ticularly dense volume of smoke from some steamer. But the solution of the mystery came much sooner than they had expected. The threatening mass grew larger and larger, and soon was seen to bear down in the direction of the vessel with terrific speed. Everybody, both crew and pas- sengers, became frightened at the myste- rious cloud, which seemed to move with great rapidity, notwithstanding that a per- fect calm prevailed. Then came the solution. The vast cloud that they had seen was composed of swal- lows. The forerunners, a small detach- ment of some 10,000, swouped down on the Geck, to the bewilderment of the people on board. These were soon followed, not by thousands, but by hundreds of thou- sands. ‘he birds literally overwhelmed the vessel. The man at the wheel lost his bearings, and the wildest disorder prevail- ed. The birds poured into every available opening, hatchways, windows and every- where else. They got tangled in the ropes and sails, and clustered about the rigging. Even the smokestack was so filled up at one time that the fires were nearly extin- guished. The most amazing part of the whole thirg was that the birds did not evince any disposition to leave. To heighten the confusion the steamer had got out of its course and ran ashore. However, on account of going very slow. no material damage was done, ihough the passengers were badly frightened. When the crew had recovered from their amaze- ment they began to clear the deck and the vessel in general of these unexpected and not at all welcome guests. The captain ordered the men to use shovels and whatever else they could to throw the birds overboard. After getting fairly In shape the vessel proceeded on its voyage, having been delayed for nearly eight hours on account of this singular ex- perience. - The captain could not offer any theory as to where this vast army of swai- lows came from. All he said was that the birds were exhausted from a long flight during the storm of the previous day, and sought rest on his vessel. —_—eoe—___ Tel It Out. From the Buffalo News, Don't sit down and wait for trade, “Paln't the way, Got a hustle, make a bow, Push your lisiness -avake Don’ KO, t sit down and wait for trade, ‘Tain't the way, Tain't the way. If you've anything to sell, ‘Tell it cut. Let your neighbors see you're * Get up “bargains,” don't say die, If you've anything to sell. ‘Tell ft out, ‘Tell it out! Folks won't know you if you don’t Keep things Talk about it; that’s y Folks won't know you if you don't Advertise, Advertise. ——+e+— Those Good Old Ronds. From Meehan's Monthly. It appears from the following from a cor- respondent, the “good old Roman roads” are pretty much like the “enormous pip- pins” so many old people handled “when they were young.” He say: At page 187 it 1s stated that travelers tell us that the old Roman rvad= are far superior to the modern road. If they say so, they do not tell the truth. In going to the top of Vesu- yius, the usual route is from Resina by a route path several miles to the foot of the cone. On the way you go for several hun- dred yards over a part of the Appia v: one of the longest of the old Roman roads. It is not and never was a good road. It is about fifteen feet wide, paved with blocks of trap rock of irregular size and shape, varying in diameter from six inches to two feet. Trap is a very hard volcanic stone wearing smooth by use. The road is perfectly preserved and is as good for travel as it ever was. The stones are pol- ished by the ancient traffic, and are very slippery and unsafe. There is no ditch on either side of the road. No good road is possible without good drainage ditches at the side.” SSSSSS 99E6OS methods—of successful advertisers, as it gives complete in- formation about every way of advertising which they have found to be feasible and profitable. Instructs you—and exemplifies — how to write adver- ; or the “Ready-Made Ads.” it contains can be used to accomplish the same object. . Contains timely hints about mediums, tending to aid you in selecting profitable ones to advertise in. Subscription price NOW, $2 a year; It will be $5 a rear after cember Bist, 1895. == S60 iS) Printers’ Ink $ plelps.eco Advertisers] It’s a weekly journal, furnishing you with practical ad- vice, and reliable information, about every detail of the Q the experiences—and adopt the Sample copy free. New York. C. L. Shipley in Baltimore Sua. As the interests cf the Christian portion of the universe are now centered in an effcrt to relieve the distress of people of Armenia, an Asiatic province of the Turk- ish empire. and as rumors have been cur- rent that the troops of the sultan now con- centrating in that province for the ostensi- He purpose of putting down an incipient rebellion of the miserable people have dis- played the “green banner,” which means a “kcly war,” it will be of interest to trace as far as possible the origin and meaning of a “jejad,” or “holy war.” It Is understood to be a Mohammed:n doctrine that jejad, or holy war, can only be proclaimed by the Shiek-ul Islam, the religious deputy of the sultan, by the per- scral order of the sultan himself. The proclamation is performed by unfolding the sanjaksherif, or flag of the prophet, which is made of green silk, with a crescent at the top of the staff, to which is attached a horsehair plume. This flag is deposited in the Mosque of St. Sophia, at Constanti- nceple. It is not, however, the original flag of the prophet, as that ensign was white, and was made from the turban of the Koreish which Mahomet captured. For this, some time later, was substituted a black flag, made of the petticoat of Aye- ska, thé favorite wife of the prophet, and in_whose arms he died. Omar, the second Mosiem caliph, obtained Pcseession of the flag by conquest, and it passed subcsquently into the hands of the Atassides and che Caliphs of Bagdad and Katmira, and was brought to Europe by Amurath IIl end deposited in the seraglio at Constentinople. When the flag was changed ir color from black to green is not krown, but accordimg to the doctrine of Mahomet, the sultan and his deputy have the sole authority to unfurl the flag over Constant'r ople and proclaim a “holy war,” a@ war ageirst all Christendom, and one in which every species of atrocity is perpe- trated im the name of the prophet on the gps eyeorn ; e unfurlu g of the green flag amon the Turkish soldiery, if there be truth i the report, may not be from the orders of the sultan, as there is a large element of the Mokammedans, particularly those of Arabia and the Holy Land, who do not rec- ognize the legitimacy of the claim of the Ottoman Turks to the caliphate, and would not wait for the orders of the ruler if they are arxious for a jejad against the hated Christians. ' If the sultan should attempt, or if any pert of his dominion, independent of his orders, inaugurate a holy war, it becomes the duty of every Christian nation to take prompt action in the protection of the helpless people that will be exposed io every kind of outrage that the devilish in- genulty of the Moslem religion will con- tive to invert. Personal interests and aggrandizement should be prompt! fa aside in the cause of humanity. > Aire ——_+o+ HARNESSING THE TIDES. Power Near Large Cities That is Not Utilized. From the North American Review, The tides of the North and East rivers produce power enough to generate all the electricity to [ght New York and Brooklyn, to do all the mechanical work in the fac- tories and machine shops, and to run all the ratiroad lines in the city and suburbs. Ti power is wasted, as formerly all of the power of Niagara was allowed to expend it- self .n a protitiess way. All that is required is to store this immense power and turn it into profitable use. The problem presente: differs somewhat from that of Niagara. The tides are periodic, and not constant, and the power would have to be collected at the times of its greatest exertion and stored for later use. The Niagara people have already proposed to run a [ine to New York to do what the tides of the Hudson and East rivers would accomplish right at home. Either undertak- ing is a large one, requiring the expenditure of militons of dollars; but the results would more than justify the outlay. An inexhausi- ible supply of power from outside would prove a blessimg that could hardly be ap- preciated today. The present cumbersome delivery of coal to factories and private houses would be abolished, and a clean, neat, pleasant method substituted. What applies to New York and Brooklyn would apply to many other cities. The tides of the Delaware and Chesapeake could be converted into inexhaustible power to give the cities along that coast a perfect and cheap electric plant. The present outlook is that the Niagara Falls Power Company will in time run an electrical conduit to New York to supply the motive and Lighting power of the city and suburbs, unless some enterprising body of capitalists undertakes to utilize the wasted power of the tides nearer at home. A condult capable of bringing 100,000 to 200,000 horse power from Niagara would cost more than a four-track steam ra‘lway. The investinent of a similar amount in col- lecting and storing the power cf the tides in the North and East rivers ought to yleld better results. TOO MUCH OF A Bevy of Fair Dames felicitations, Mr. Binks, ete.. etc. Mr. Binks Gust engaged)—“Oh, really “Our warmest congratulations, Mr. sinks! ‘GOOD THING. Our very best thanks 80 much! But couldn't you spare some of your congratulations for my fiancee?” x >=