Evening Star Newspaper, January 11, 1896, Page 15

‘THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY it, 1896—TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. ENGAGEMENT, BY SIR ROBERT PEEL (Copyright, 1896, by Sir Robert Peel.) (Continued from Friday's Star.) SYNOPSIS. Arnold Hopetoun, a clerk on a small sal- try in the foreign office at London, is e1 ged to be married to handsome Bella stairs, who, with her mother, is obliged to krcp up appearances in very reduced Gircumsiances. Bella believes that she loves Arnold, but is unwilling to marry him until he gets a more lucrative posi- tion, which his influential uncle, Lord Drillingham, @as promised to obtain for him. Lord Drillingham neglects the mat- ter, «nd Arnold proposes to Bella that he and his cousin Kate, Lord Drillingham’s daughter, pretend to be engaged, with the idea cf increasing his uncle’s interest in obtaining an appointment. She consents, and he goes down to Deercourt to arrange the matter with Kate. Kate agrees. Dril- lingham approves of the engagement, and bestirs himself about the appointment. He obtains the offer of an important position in Canada, but Bella refuses to go to Can- ada. Kate calls on Bella, and endeavors to persuade her, but in vain. Kate is piqued, realizes that she loves Arnoid, and determines to win cim from Bella. He falls desperately in love with her, and declares himself, while she admits her own love. PART VI. He was still intoxicated when he woke next morning. Anxiety as to his position did not oppress him yet. A delicious feel- ing of excitement throbbed in his veins. He descended early. His room cooped him, and the freshness of the air outside harmonize better with his mood. She also was out. He caught a glimpse of her white frock in the shrubbery, and overtook her with delight. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he said. She blushed with pleasure, and surren- dered her lips bashfully. “And have you been thinking of me?” she asked. “So much! And yet I can hardly credit my good fortune.” No need to set down what they said. It was not until later in the day that Miss Drillingham spoke of Bella, and ques- tioned how he intended to act, and then she declared that he must write to her at once. She was, in fact, beginning to tell herself that she had played a shabby part. She wanted to admit it to Arnold, but was loth to humiliate herself in his eyes, and when he demurred to sending the suggested let- ter, and proposed to see and speak to Bella instead, she did not press the point. Hopetoun, who was not a coward, in- tended calling upon the Carstairs on the morrow, when Bella, who was on a visit to her relations at Morecombe, would be back in town. Kate had therefore several hours before she was required to abase herself before him, and until the time arrived she aban- doned herself to the charm of their new re- lationship as completely as possible. Nevertheless, her doubt obtruded itself constantly, .nd lestly a new terror came. Had she the right to let Arnold jilt the girl? She could not determine. As a result she resolved to leave the de- cision to the man. She would extenuate rothing, and set naught down in malice. If he could say, “I love you; I don’t care what you have done—you are the only weman I can be happy with!" she would be his wife; if he reproached her, and said, “It was unwomenly, petty, it was not worthy of you, Kate,"’ nothing should ever induce ker to marry him. The pauses in the conversation of the ecusins became painfully frequent and woefully prolenged. It was a relief to beth when Drillingham broke in upon their tete-a-tete, and then a semblance of cheer- f.lmess returned until dinner time, when Kate said to Arnold: “Afterward I want to speak to you—come into the drawing room. as soon as you can!” Her face was very pale as she whispered the words. He wondered if anything was amiss. When he joined her she w standing on the hearth—rather a desolate figure in the big tcom, it struck him all at once. She @id pot respond to his smile of inquir: obviously she was disturbed. Had som: thing happened? “What is the matter?” he asked; “is any- ng wrong?” Arnold,” she said, “I have something say to you—scmething I ow myselfi—and to Miss o Miss Carstairs?” he e to to hoed. She nodded. Her lips trembled, and he Kcoked at her with dismay. “Kate,” said Hopetoun, “ mysteriously. uncomfortably, it alt about?” zold, you remember when I went to rstairs, and didn’t tell you?” ‘I remember,” he answered. “Well?” I did rot tell you because I did not like her. mm anxious not to say anything in her disparagement, but in justice to my- self—to make my explanation clear—I must Say that I found her ungracious, that it dic not seem to me she cared for you as much as she did for herself. She—she got on_my nerves.” suspected it," said Hopetoun. “Yes?"’ “When I left her I-I made a vow all to myself in the cab. I swore I would take yeu away from her.” “What?” “I swore I would take you away from her—that things should happen just as they have! I’ve done it, and now I'm ashamed!” She stood looking at the carpet in silence. Hopetoun crossed over to her before he re- plied. “Why,” be said; “why, what Was your Trotive?” She hesitated you are talking child. What's “Say it was vanity, if you like,” she murmured, “or petty’ spite! What do you think of me?" “I shall rot say it was elther,” he said. “It is for you to say what it was. You do Bot Wish me to believe you have only been Lord Driilingiam Goes for a Canter. playing with me—that you aren't really fond of me, Kate?” She Ifted her eyes ard answered him. xclaimed, “tell me some- you fond of me the day said Kate, “I loved you with all rt lasped her to him. “You poor little he cried; “and did you imagine that to be horribly angry with you are crying! And for noth- ing. Kit, nothing!” You aren’t angry with me? I am for- given?” “Forgiven!” laughed Hopetoun. “What is there to forgive?” a ye felt so guilty,” she faltered. “I have been afraid you would thnk me so mean! She wo dear—any woman would —but if you don’t yourself—” “is kisses silenced her, and he told her that tomorrow his engagement to Miss Carstairs, and all pertaining to Miss Car- stairs, would be a thing of the past, a folly to be buried in oblivion. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I shall make a clean bre1st of it, and we need never speak ef her any more. As things are, I don’t gee why we should be remorseful a bit.” ~ Kate Drillingham hesitated a long time. she sald at last, “that was my this afternccn I also thought too; that! I thought that if you could answer me as you have, I shculd be satisfied to allow you to go to her and break off your engagement. But I can’t! I have been con- {dering, and considering. I have made you Jove me. Whether I cared for you the day I saw her, or whether I didn’t, the fact re- mains that you were rot in love with me then. Don’t you see, dear; don’t you see?’ “I se2 I love you now, at auy rate,” said Hopetoun, doggedly. “That is quite enough for m>.” “No, it Is not enough, not enough for you to break it off if she is unwilling. I am | Rot a heroine, no Donna Quixote, but I | @uite clearly ‘that our duty is for you to | ask her to release you, and no more. If she won't, you must marry her.” “On, I am contented,” cried Hopetoun. “What woman wculd insist on holding a man against will? An adventuress, per- haps, but net- “I am not so sure,” returned his cousin, slowly. “Frankly—I may say it now—I do not Ike Miss Carstairs, and I have not a very high opinion of her. Her chances of marriage are few, and you may be certain she realizes it. Indeed, I think it quite pos- sible that, rather than lose you altogether, she would even be pleased to go with you to Canada. If she does held you to your word, Arnold, you must keep ‘t.”” “I can’ he declared. “At least I should not marry you then,” said Miss Drillingham. ‘Come, promise me you will do as I beg. “I would promise you anything you asked of me,” he said, reluctantly. And so it was decided. But Hopetoun did not sleep that night because of the new doubt that had been in- ‘stilled into his mind. The question harassed him until daylight stole into the room. Would Miss Carstairs refuse to release him or not? The more he pondered, the more he was convinced now that Bella would decline to take things easily. “She would even go to Canada rather than lose you altogether!” The words recurred to him impressively. He had a presentiment that his mission was going to fail, and the ominous sensation deepened when he rose. Breakfast was tasteless to him. His train left the Deerccurt station at 11, and he spent the interval endeavoring to persuade Kate to reconsider her determination. She would not listen, or, at any rate, she ‘would not heed. “Go to town,” she repeated, “and speak to her. If she consents, come back to me. if you fail, do not! I don’t want to see you then—it would be bad for both of us.” They were hard instructions; he seemed predestined to failure indeed! He stepped into the train gloomily. When he arrived he went into the buffet at Euston,.and had a brandy and soda with a double allowance of brandy. He felt better after that, but it chagrined him to reflect that the improve- ment would have evaporated before his hansom reached the house. He hailed one, and told the man to drive rapidly. He was dismayed beyond words to learn that the ladies had not come back from the country yet. They were expected tomorrow, the little servant said. She would say he called. feel I will come again tomorrow,” he said. He bade the man stop at the Swiss Cot- tage station, and from there he dispatched a telegram to Deercourt. After he sent it, he drove to his rooms, and tried to make himself comfortable there. It was not a successful attempt. The rain was coming down still. What on earth should he do with himself? He might have stayed another day at Deer- “I won't,” he said. court as things had turned out; he wished he had returned there instead of wiring. By Jove, why should he not do so now! He caught the afterroon express, and walked in upon her where she was dream- ing beside a window. The sun was shining at Deercourt; here everything was bright. She welcomed him with a cry of aston- ishment: “You!” “T couldn't stand it,"" he explained. “After I had sent off your telegram I went to my place, and suffered an eternity of tedious- ness that lasted at least two hours. You know those eternities! Then this inspira- tion struck me and here I am He dropped into a low chair, looking at h er. “You did not expect me?” he said. “Indeed no. I even posted on some let- ters that came for*you after you left. Arnold, I have missed you horribly. I have been imagining all sorts of things. 1 was so glad to get your message—it was thoughtful of you, dear! And then I won- dered what you would do with yourself all day. I hoped you would go to a theater in the evering, or your club; I didn’t want you to be lonely, because—" Bevause?” “Because I was being lonely enough for both of us.” She had never beef more tender, more delightful to him than in this unantici- pated prolongation of their suspense. He had, as it were, fallen from the clouds to her this afternoon, anl her resvlution went down before her surprise. It might be their last day—how could she be charm- ing enough! “Will you give me some music tonight, Kate?” She sang to him as he begged, and Drill- ingham came in to listen. He always liked to hear her singing; it reminded him of one of the women whom he had nearly married —an ideal that had never been destroyed. Hopetoun loved to hear her, too, for her voice said much to him that she never Yet trusted herself to speak. When he reflected that his possession of her hung upon another woman’s word his impotence to affect his own destiny frenzied him. Inactivity is the hardest thing for a ran to bear, und that was what Arnold Hope- toun was condemned to. He was like a spectator of a game of cards who Is also the stake for which the game is played. His deepest interests were involved, and yet he could only watch. He landed at the Euston platform at something past 5 on the following after- noon and drove, as on the previous day, straight to the Hampstead hous: “Mrs. Carstairs—they are in?’ “No, sir, they are not coming today.” “What?” he exclaimed angrily. “Do y mean to say their return is postponed? “Yes, sir. They have not come bac! Hopetoun stared at the little servant's vacuous face with resentment. “And when,” he inquired, “will they be back?" “I can’t say, sir. Would you leave any message?" “No.” he said, “no, never mind—I will |-write.” He turned away in a villainous temper. This meant he must remain in town in- definitely; to run hack to Deercouzt a sec- ond time would be too absurd. He said as much in the wire he sent again from the Swiss cottage. He told the man to drive him to his club, where he ordered a cutlet and a pint of claret and made a pretense of dining. ‘The club was even more tedious than be- fore. He threw himself into an armchair and smoked disconsolately. At length, on the principle of any change being better than none, he got up and walked home. It was half-past 12. He mounted heavily to his rcoms, trying to persuade himself that he was sleepy at last. Taey were darkness and he barked his shins agai the furniture, groping for the matches. Presently he found a box and lit the lamp. <A final smoke, and then he would really woo the elusive god! He drew for- ward the tobacco and pipe and stretched his long legs wearily on the shabby couch. After he had flung himself there and the tobacco was finally aglow he perceived that there were some letters lying on the man- teipiece, and ne debated mentally whetiec it was worth while rising to get them. Ha! one was from Bella, bearing the More- combe postmark! Doubtless he would know definitely now when she was bringing her visit to an end. He tore it open, and, draw- ing a chair up to the lamp, commenced to read. What was this? Ways wrote! “Dear Arnold: Between us two a perfect frankness has subsisted from first to last, and I feel certain that you are much too fair, much too intelligent, to read what I have to say with ary resentment, or to doubt that the avowal causes me the greatest distress.” (“This,” said Hopetoun, inwardly, “ like ‘The Complete Letter Writer.’ But I wish she'd had it typed—I can’t make it How shockingly she al- o “A duty is a duty, and I cannot shirk mine! Arnold, I have awakened to the truth, for since I have been here I have met ene who has shown me that I mistook my own heart—* (“Good Lord!” gasped her correspondent) —“‘Mistook my own heart when I pledged myself to be your wife. Loving him as I do, I chould be acting wrong you were I to fulfill that misguided prom- now. I cannot! I cannot deal you a worse misery than this which you have to bear today—I cannot accept your mairtal devotion”—(“ ‘Marital’ misspelt!” said Hope- toun)—“devotion and give you so poor a thing as that which remains in my power in exchange. Do not ask It of me.” (“I won't,” he said.) “I beg you to release me from our engagement, and to believe that } shall always cherish a deep, a sisterly, af- fection for you. Do not endeavor to see me, for my determination is unalterable, and discussion would be a needless pain to us beth. Write me to the Hampstead address, 1 am returning to town the day after tomor- row, but pray, pray don’t go there! Indeed, I could not bear it, and if you disregard this request I must refuse to listen. That tim2 may heal your wound and Providence en- rich your career with its manifold blessings. is the earnest prayer of your very sincere friend, BELLA CARSTAIRS.” “Then,” said Hopetoun, staring into space, “she was at home when I called teday, and wouldn’t see me! Great powers! And I wget have known all this yesterday morn- ng?” When Miss Drillingham came down to breakfast eight hours later at Deercourt she paused on the threshold of the room with astonishment, for a gentleman was waiting fer her there who took her in his arms with a boldness that could only mean victory. Bella signs herself ‘Carstairs’ still, and looks at Mrs. Hopetoun, if she happens to see her, wtih something suspiciously akin to envy. But Arnold looks at his wife with eyes of love and says that no man who has dared to play with fire was ever known to burn himself so pleasantly before. From which it may be argued that they are a happy pair. (The end.) ESCAPE MADE DIFFICULT. An Elaborate Device to Put an End to Jail Delivericn. From the Lonisville Evening Post. One of the neatest inventions that have been made recently is the one planned by F. V. Simms. Mr. Simms was greatly in- terested in the jail delivery, and imme- diately after the prisoners escaped he set to work to devise a plan to prevent any similar occurrence. Mr. Simms proposes to surround each cell by an air-tight com- partment. This will be filled with carbon- dioxide under a pressure much higher than that of air. In each compartment there ‘will be a small retort, containing lumps of marble, covered by diluted sulphuric acid. This will fill the tank with the gas. In an- other part of the compartment a small rubber balloon, partly filled with the air or otker gas, is held in place by a wire frame. Fastened to the top of the balloon is a thin metal plate connected to an electric wire. Directly over the plate is the point of a screw, to which the other wire is fastened. This screw is turned until it almost touches the plate, and the wires are connected with a bell and a battery. When a prisoner bores a hole through the wall of his cell the carbon-dioxide fills the room and he is asphyxiated. In the mean- time, the pressure being reduced in the compartment, the balloon will expand, and the plate will come in centact with the screw. When the circuit is closed the bell will ring and arouse the turnkeys. Mr. Simms did not explain about ventilation, and this seems to be the chief drawback to the plan. It would be a simple matter for the prisoner to open his windows and al. low the gas to escape. This might be pre- vented, however, by connecting two sets of wires with the plate and screw, and the second current will cause an outside shut- tee to fall and cover the window. This would hardly Se recessary, as the sound of the bell would be sufficient to prevent a prisoner's escape. The wires to the bell are inside of the walls, so that they cannot be cut by a deceitful trusty. e ee HOTELS AND INSOMNIA. A Palace Loses Its Attractions if Sleep is Impossible. From a Foreign Exchange. The beauty of the new hotels erected daily at health resorts, seaside places and on the Riviera cannot be denied. The windows are light and airy, the ceilings high, the reception rooms superb, the ap- pointments of bed rooms and bath rooms hxurious and costly. No reasonable ex- pense is spared, and yet these splen/lid, palatial abodes are often deserted valids and comfort lovers for the more homely and dowdy hostelries. The reason of this is not far to seck. Most of chese hotels are intolerably noi: They are run vp lightly, the walls are thin, the floors are neither fire nor sound-proof, so that to dwell in them is rather like living under a sounding board or being compressed into a box with voices ajl around you. The new spring locks of the doors sound ‘like miniature cannons going oif; there is the inevitable man overhead who goes to bed late after a cheerful bout of bvot-throwing ‘and dragzing of portmanteaus, while he whistles loudly or talks in a high baritone to_his friend next door. Then beside you is the eurly riser, who takes a walk before breakfast, and is pre- paring for a pedestrian or bicycling tour. The waiter whispers in hoarse tones to the chambermaid outside, while she pertly rat- tles cans and baths as a flirtatious accom- paniment in response. To the weary in- valid in search of rest and sleep these thing: are unspeakably annoying. What is a palace in which you cannot close your eyes in comparison to the humble cot where gentle slumber courts the weary eyelids? Insomnia is the growing malady of the age. Thomas Carlyle began the agonized moan of rebellious nature, and it has gone on ever since. Sleep is the one boon, the one ecmforter, for Which we of these latter crave, and when we go faint and eary to the seashore or to the glowing southern land of oranges it is pertinacious- ly denied us. —_—_—_—_-e-______ APPLICATION OF A FABLE. He Wore Sheep’s Clothes, but Proved to Be a Wolf in the Fold. From the Loudon Telegraph. Tfie story of the ass who clothed himself in a lion’s skin in order to pass himself off as the king of beasts is well known, but the tale of the thicf who got inside a sheep’s skin to be better able to carry on his ne- farious trade has yet to be told. Early this morning two policemen, who were on duty at the slaughter houses of Paris, were astonished to see a sheep endeavoring to effect an entrance into the inclosure where creatures of its kind were stationed. But the officers’ atterttion was redoubled when a man’s hand protruded from beneath the stolen*fleece. Their curiosity became in- tensitied. and they carefully followed the sham enimal, who stopped at the pen which inclosed the real articles, and with great coolness chose the two largest and fattest of the flock. Still observed by the watchful guardians of the law, this plagiarist of an ancient fable proceeded to kill and cut up his cap- ture, and was on the point of making off with his booty, when he found himself in turn the spoil of the law, and was quickly marched off to the police station, where he gave his name as Eugene Lassot. From his account he made a good living out of his oc- cupation by selling the meat to various butchers. For some time, at least, it is to be hoped that the animals at the abattoirs will cease to be sent to an earlier death by the See tedetens of this latest wolf in sheep's clothing. —— Very True. From the Fliegende Blaetter. Professor—‘It pains me, William, when- ever I am obliged to punish you.” William—“I know that, sir, but It doesn't pain you on the same spot. His Only Refuge. t €> : From Truth. “What do you do when you go home late at night and find your wife sitting up wait- ing for you?” “Wish I hadn’t gone home.” TRAINED MOTORMEN Brains and Oharadter“Required to Operate Electric Cars, a ae TEST SISTEM OF THE SISTEM OF PRIZES Street Car Positidns> More: Re- sponsible Than in Former Years. TRIALS OF A MANAGER —————— OME TIME SINCE the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Com- pany had construct- ed at their shops at Mount Clare a car built on the lines of a baggage car, which contained all the air- brake appliances for a locomotive and a train of about twen- ty cars. The car was sent out over the company’s lines .to instruct the employes as to the operation of the air brake and its uses. A car of similar character, but having all the appliances of an electric street car, would be a good thing for the instruction of the men employed on street railroads. The electric road being built between Washington and Baltimore will be com- pleted by next summer, and motormen on that road will have to be far above the or- dinary type of motormen if a safe and quick service is to be inaugurated. This question of educating the motormen has become quite a formidable one to sub- urban and city railway managers as the travel correspondingly increases with the new lines constructed. During the recent six days’ session of the American Street Railway Association, held in Montreal, Canada, an entire day was given up to the discussion of the proper education of mo- tormen, and a consensus of opinion of those present was that it pays to employ men of brains. Locomotive engineers can be likened to motormen in many respects, but many weary years are spent by firemen grasping every detail and developing character be- fore they are allowed to control an engine or given in charge the lives of passengers. Then again their wages are about triple. Statistics have shown that in railroad acci- Gents, the blame for which had been placed on the engineers, nine-tenths were of or- dinary education, and that the brighter men seldom made mistakes. Courage is very essential both in engineers and motor- men, but coupled with brains a great de- gree of common sense is developed that makes the possessors of the same extreme- ly valuable to the corporations that em- ploy them. : Results of Education. In Brooklyn during the first year of the adoption of electricity on street railways people were kill2] like sheep, not to sp2ak extravagantly, both by being run down by cars and in «collisions at crossings. The city became the butt of silly jokes from all over the country, and a game cailed “trolley whist,” in which the killing of man, woman or chi!i, counted for so much, was said to have originated in that city by the motormen. The cenditions are now changed for the better. The companies took the motormen in hand, educated them in the details of electricity, prizes for good service were offered, an. now Brooklyn's record is among the first class as to effi- ciency and safety. Philadelphia has taken ber place in the of killing and maiming people, the record for last year in the Quaker city being appalling, over a hun- dred persons being crushel to Geath under the wheels. “Sometimes I am vo vexel at the actions of some of my men that I think they ought to be clubbed." remarked a manager of one of the city roads to a Star reporter r cently. “It is strange that men pos ing a fair degree of intell’xence should to exercise thelr judy when it is re- quired. If trouble ari: d two are con- cerned they will surely disagree, and both insist in do.ng the opposite, and both will be in the wrong. | This specially in cases of break downs Or blockades. Of course the notify the office if anything serious hap- pel but they ought to do something in the meantime. When asked afterward why this or that Procedure was not carried into execution, the answer invariably is that it was not thought of at the time. This is what pro- vokes me. Such excuses are poor ones. I am rather { ned to the belief that just such answers would not come from educated men or from men that are paid better sala- ries. A system made up-gf rewards, either of money or better runs, would, no doubt, stimulate the men. They mean well enough, and perhaps with rewards awaiting them they would not be so forgetful in time of trouble. The Prize System. “Some of the street railway managers of the United States are going to try the plan of giving prizes to motormen and con- ductors who make faultless records in a given period. A Brooklyn company has set apart $10,000 for this purpose, and as one result news of street railroad disasters has not come from Brooklyn for the past six months. The prize system has been in operation in Montreal for years, and 1 be- lieve the managers grasped the full mean- ing of the system at our last meeting up there during the past summer. Every three months there is a distributi Two motor- men and two conductors who have ex- celled for that period receive $25 each. This little sum ccmes in mighty handy when one of the men wants a new suit of clothes or the wife and children at home need dresses. “It has been found that the Montreal plan works exceedingly well. It inspires considerable rivalry among the employes to make records. Not infrequently there are several who have scored a clean record for three months. When that happens, the badges of the men entitled to prizes are put in a hat. Two gre drawn out and the conductor or motorman to whom the badges belong receive the money. “The Brooklyn plan of prizes is more elaborate and may prove more successful than the Montreal idea. A distribution of the entire $10,000 will be made after May 1 next. All conductors and motormen who are now in the company’s service and re- main with clean records will share it. To make a clean record an employe must have had no accident ‘causing either injury or damage to other persons or property, or to the company’s property, and must not have been suspended for violation of the com- pany’s rules. Among all. who show such records the $10,010 will be, divided pro rata. From the returns of damage suits in that city this $10,000 will bear interest at the rate of about 100 per cent, and can well be offered by the company, They Disregard! Orders. “It is one of the hardest things in the world to get the motormen to do what you want them to. I want the dpors of the cars kept clused in cold weather, and want the car ventilated to some extent. Many of the mer are first-class, and attend to these details, but many don’t, and we have a hard time weeding them out. I do not want any coasting down hills, yet it is done every dey. There are; other orders in existence which they are expected to obey, but, I am sorry to say, many of them are disregarded. To do the right thing at the right time requires a constant strain, which, added to the legitimate duties of the motormien and gripmen, it can be in- ferred that they must possess a fair num- ber of virtues if they are to call forth praise from their superiors. “Then, again, take the question of fen- ders. One or two things must be done to rrevent the too rapid destruction of these safeguards. We must either reward the m-otermen or gripmen who keep their fen- ders intact, or charge up to them the cost of the repairs. The motormen, as a rule, have considerable patience, but they are tried terribly sometimes, and I can hardly blame them when they help a wagon to get off the track. But in such cases our fenders suffer, and we cannot afford to keep a shop full of men doing nothing but repairing fenders. In this, like in every- thing else, experience teaches us what to do. The motormen and gripmen will have to be rated by the condition of their fen- LEPE EPL SIPS OO ED. Sontestoct Academy, French. 5 Accidents and Emergencies, . Agricultural Statistics. Alaska, Statistics of. Altitude, Greatest in Each State. Ambassadors of the U. 8. American Cup Record of. American Indians. Anniversaries f Important Events. Antidotes for Poisons. Appropriations by Congress, Areas of Countries. Army and Navy. 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Their appearances and their actions were certainly against them, which was caiculated to thoroughly convince the pub- lic that they were a little on the tough or- der, The driver in those days generally was an uncouth and ill-mannered per- son, given to profanity that he would in- dulge in on the slightest provocation, re- gardless of the time or place. Go out on the front platform now and smoke your cigar and carelessly watch the few drivers that are still at work. I'll wager a new hat that you will lose your patience before he does and maybe indulge in profanity. The motormen may swear, but they are isolated now, and no one can hear them. “The conductor has always been a grade higher. Yet he, too, lacked many of the instincts that go toward the make-up of a gentleman. The hours on duty were many, the work not by any means pleasant, while the pay was small. It was generally the bully and the man of all work who applied for jobs of collecting fares or driving. There was but little system. When the horses were liberated from the drudgery and the grip and electric motor came into play, the men who handled the lines and those who collected the fares also made their exit. The individual of low intelli- gence, of slovenly habits and waspish dis- position found the change too radical for him, and he did not even attempt to make a trial, which the company was willing to give to those of its more faithful employes. Veteran Employes. “Some of these old and well-tried em- ployes are still with the companies, men who have been on street cars for years, and I must say their patience is something re- markable. They may not be over polite, but they never answer back. You can teil a new man by this one fault. Passengers may have been neglected by the motormen or gripmen and when they get on the rear end of the car pour their complaint into the conductor's ears. Old-timers will take it as a matter of course, but the new men, not relishing being saddled with another man’s fault, will generally answer back and make trouble worse. “More men by hundreds are now employ- ed than in times gone by, so it is estimated that fully nine-tenths of the employes are men who have entered service since rapid transit has been inaugurated. The rowdy element has been displaced altogether. The motormen, gripmen and conductors of the present time are more respectable-appear- ing and more genteel than the men of the fore and aft platform of fifteen years ago. Washington, as a rule, is a good city to work in for street railway employes. In the winter there is only about six weeks’ hard weather and likewise in the summer. The motormen from other cities tell me that the wide streets are a great benefit to them, as it gives them an even chance in avoiding accidents. In the next ten years at the most every road in the city will be worked by electricity, faster time will be made, as the people will be used to the new order of things and the men will be paid better and be of still a higher grade as to intelligence and mcral character.” A GREAT SATISFACTION. How a Horse Got Even With a Brutal Fellow. From the Youth's Companion. A correspondent tells a story of a hand- some black horse, so big and strong that he seemed hardly to feel the weight of the heavy delivery wagon with which he made the rounds of the neighborhood. His driver was a brutal fellow, who ought to have been tie creature driven. Blows, kicks and angry words were the only caresses he ever be- stowed upon his steed, and these the horse suffered quietly for many a long day, till finally even his endurance gave out, One hot morning the man reined the horse in roughly by the curbstone. On dismount- ing he seemed to think the wagon too near, and harshly ordered his steed to back, em- phasizing the command with a cut from his whip. The horse backed obediently, though angrily, while the man, heated by his exer- tions, took off his coat, and, having hung it over the dashboard, disappeared in the house. The horse waited until the driver was out of sight, then, looking around, he saw the coat hanging only a short distance from his heels. Instantly a change came over him. He actually seemed to laugh as he lifted one foot and let it fly at the coat. Fnding that he could not hit it well, he began to beat a regular tattoo upon it; first with one foot, then with the other, and, finally, as he grew excited, with both at once. Surely no coat ever had a more thorough dusting. Out flew note books, papers and handkerchiefs, and roiled into the gutter, but the horse kept on until he heard a door slam, and he knew his master was return- ing. Then, with a final kick that sent the coat under the wagon, he settled sleepily down in the shafts, and pretended to be watching a pair of mules that had just gone ry He didn’t seem to mind the slaps the driver gave him while picking up his be- longings, and when he started off he looked up at the window and appeared to wink at those who had been watching him, and half wishing they could reward him with a peck of oats. ———+ e+ —___ An Old Tale. From St. Paw “Good Heavens! cent!” I've come out without a PARROTS SPREAD DISEASE. Mysterious Epidemic of 1893 Has Again Made Its Appearance in Paris. The question of infected parrots, which created such a sensation in Paris two years ago, seems to have again come before the public. At Versailles, at Maisons-Laffitte, Says the Temps, there has been reported the death of several persons, who have been struck down, it would seem, by this same mysterious disease which was said to have been brought into France in 1893 by exotic parrots. The inquiry made by M, Dujardin-Beau- metz for the Seine Conseil d’Hygiene result- ed,at first, in the conclusion that the deaths were merely cases of coincidence, but he has again returned to the subject, seconded by Dr. Dubief, and issued his new report. In this document M. Dujardin-Beaumets states that it is very possible that the par- rots may have something to do with these epidemics. Eberth and Wolff, he points out, have described how parrots have imported into Europe a septic disease which can be determined by the microscope. However, Parisians need not be alarmed by the reports which have recently been spread, for at no bird dealer's has there been discovered a single diseased parrot. M. Nocard, director of the Alfort Veterin- ary School, has, however, been making some experiments, which is a distinct step toward a solution of the problem as to whether parrots can really spread disease. “I was unable,” says M. Nocard, “during the epidemic of 1893 to procure a single parrot imported from America. But I have now got a packet of the wings of birds which died during the voyage from Buenos Ayres to Havre. I have discovered a special microbe, extremely virulent, which does not seem io me to be that observed by the Ger- mans, Eberth and Wolff; and fowls, mice and rabbits which I inoculated with the mi- crobe died in less than forty-eight hours. “I can even spread the disease without having recourse to inoculation. For exam- ple, by placing ten dry wings at the bot- tom of the cage of a healthy parrot, the bird died in less than twenty hours. The investigation would have been complete had I been able to show that the death of persons in 1893 was also due to the action of this microbe, but I have seen none of these sick people.” As several new cases of the mysterious disease of 1893 have just broken out in the department of Seine-et-Oise the Conseil d’Hygiene is now in a position to investigate the origin of the outbreak. —— — -s0e Spared for Further Mischief. From the Detroit Free Press. “Madam,” said the new boarder, “one of your family came very near dying last night.” “Indeed. I was not aware that any one was il. Who was it?” The man in the room next to mine, who played the cornet till 3 a.m. He stopped just in time to save his life.” Sasol a aes The Important Part Left Out. From the Somerville (Mass.) Journal. Hazel—Oh, bother! I've used up all my note paper, and my letter isn’t half finished e ‘ou've written eight pages, haven't you? Isn't that enough?” Hazel—“Yes, but I haven't begun on the postscript yet.”