Evening Star Newspaper, June 6, 1896, Page 14

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 6, 1896-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. is something the matter with our late yea Mr. W. H. Jones > it is June, and not a word ha , done about a Fourth July celebration. To the old resident, who looked upon the fireworks in the White | Let on the evening of the glorious Fourth | at event of the year, this seems been said or anything be > any of th mbers of tants’ Association and he will sui with me that our Fourth ; of July celebr and night, of | thirty, forty or fifty years ago were in-! deed glorious events, and I would be hap- | Ty if they would be restored so that our | grand ren could for once see how we : did things in our day. Our best fireworks in the ok at the foot | ™ to $1,000, ion by gave as Fourth as do the ; and towns, and had bration ua feel mo wr patriotic. that the lorious F modern way of © urth,by tying up two | and jump- : out in the coun- Js in the boiling sun, is the | but the old inhabitant can- | ort ing on a bie try or dusty r more patriotic, pot see it that way. There are many j changes as time pa: along, but, like | taany other old pet e, I regret that we forget the glorious Fourth and do not pub- liely celebrate it any more.” s always been an; H. | dy to me, ET siting clersyman from Ilinots, } Smythe, a v who was a guest of Vice son during the past we i. think I ever enjoyed them have here. The first one wh | eye was that of Rich & Co., bankers. What ! a wonderfully happy combination of name | and bus I saw the sign of Mr. Hack- ; rey. a livery stable keeper, and there was | plenty of evidence gathered about the place | to show that he was in the hackney car- riage busine I ran across Mr. Garden, . of is In the flower business. he be in with such an ap- ‘The following day I had | the ple of seeing the sign of Mr. | Plugge, a tobacco dealer, and on that even- { ing tie sign of Dr. Songster, who is a voice | 4 throat doctor. The entire combination surpa < in that line I had ever seen, read of or heard of.” ee KE “The carp a food "remarked a well-known fisherman, “is one of the things tha ere. Great things were | promised, and the governm thousar rivers an t spent many ug it in our in fis The carp grew bit after it grew no one could hat is, eat it with a relish, for | is a mud fish. Tt 2 plants or s of dollars intre pon n that ving the | » carp did grea i herring il centinue to do “tt a pr jy all 7 iths In this in Brooklyn, itutes have on the market, e blacksmith gene ugbt-iron anvil, but ade. There are of cast- on and steel anvils for sale, burt Httle favor from black fer an anvil that sings. T) a3 no music about it, and does not give ¥ more response to the hammer than If was hammering on a stump. It is mu: or singing, as the smithy calls it, that Is wanted. A-blacksmith does nearly all his ng to his helper by the sounds made on the anvil by his hammer. As far as the vil- lage nging by the anv < vertisement. Or- dimarily an anvil last from ten to twenty yeurs, that is, if it is handled care- fully, though there are man vils that are now the fathers during their entire lifetime.” xe Oe KX rine Band concerts at the White observed james Ryder, has figured as a hotel waiter for near- half a century, “were before the war # closed event as far as we colored peopie ly were concerned, for mo colored persons were ever admitted to the grounds unless they went there in the capacity of nurses for children or attendants upon 3. To the knowing could listen to the music just I was there wh was first played. It was H the ‘Mocking 3ird Neated to | tet Lane, the niece President ach an: d its first performs ig even out whisiling ongs of marc 2 press, the pubiic every on who ere ald j tira’ | waltz redowas r things | in that line at As the | 1 finish e first rewlition of | the ‘Mocking Bird." all e to Miss | Lane, who sto the c figure in aj xroup on the svuth portico. > bowed her its and th and join pping her hands applaud- Colored people always wore clothe when the went to the ‘musie,” as it called those days, und I wish more of them did so now.” * eK KR “To me it is a matter of ail d 0 has greatest re- ome ently, “that -d or wounded an has beer ntor w ent of o has bee the world be; wounded on wrong principle: or wounded by the wrong- 5 So, also, has every squirrel, bear, dee imal that has been shot with a slug or buliet. The mu. or rifle of also the can as e ball or a co end and point are wrong, « known fact th have 1 or Ket the soldi as ther fired a spherical cal-shaped slug, flat at one i at the other. Now, both It is a well- farmer milit spite of the re a number Is not sur- ™ officers, ers as well, should op of my ca ar icts them ¢ ooting the 1 ball during the past. Tho is wrong for the reason that it the rifle of the cannon or rifie and will not go straight, or as directed. It is bound to waver up or down or to one side. The result is that the ball Is lost, as is also the expense of shooting {t, which is considerable these days. ‘The slug-shaped ball is equally wrong. It matters not how carefully it is Intended to be delivered, after it gets out of the cannon, rifle or pistol which delivered it, it goes along in a bumpety-bumpety kind of a way, and, one end being heavier than the other, It’ gets turned over or under, any way, out of {| course, and it lands elsewhere than where ntended. The result Is delay, vexation and expense of firing and the ball. Now, my stent, for I have finally forced the patent flice to patent it, calls for a conical-shaped tll for all guns, rifles and pistols, pointed ‘t each end. Between the ball and the powder there is a soft lead contrivance I call a driver, which takes the ritle of the : delivers the bail turning It goes exactly ted. There is no escape it trom it. It has to go where directed. Be- ing shaped right, if properly directed it de the werk intended, and every ball a vice, saving less of firing and cost « and pow kKsmen fret and fume about rif and feel ve get six or seven bull ey tire. The cause rroud when the eyes out of each ten tl of it is not the their lack of skill in properly rifle, but because the bail wrong. If they shoot pointed at each end, they ca. yes out of cach ten’ shot 1, they can shoot the ten balls through the same hole in the target, if they desire, for, properly aimed, the ball cannot go ¢ » than where directed. ow, as this idea {s, don't you know t was the only government that had intelligence enough to buy my patent, thouzh I offered it to them all. Riflemen eve ere are welcome to to pay a roy Ity. It is bad enough to shoot any man in battle or elsewhere, but if we must keep up the practice of killing off because we have not enough intelli- gence or judgment to arrange national or international difficulties otherwise, why not Kill off the people of our own or other vunirie: cientitle principles and at the least pos cost? It seems simple ugh, but when it is remembered that the expense of firing some of our big guns is over three kendred dollars for each round, cost comes into the consideration. If all the guns of our navy and forts were to be kept firing as rapidly as they could for twenty-four hours continuously it would nearly bankrupt the country. It would cost much less to buy off a nation than to fight them.’” * eK OK * A Columbia cable car going west a few evenings since was delayed a short time at the crossing of Sth street northwest by a large ck of granite that had slipped from a heavy truck. A young white man coming south on 5th and a colored man going west on H, both on bicycles, met at the corner near the car and collided. Both were pretty well shaken up, and both were covered with dirt. “You infernal fool!” exclaimed the white | man, angrily, scraping the mud from his clothing; “couldn't you see me coming along here in broad daylight?” “I'm awful sorry,” began the colored man, In an apologetical tone; “I didn't see you at all—was looking at that big stone—" You blockhead! broke in the other; "ve a good mind to have you arrested for scorching along the streets without regard for the rights of and run- ning inte people in this we i'd you see me?” inte ored man, as the other one caught breath. », L didn't. i—" Where Were your eyes, you idiot? The ane asylum ought to be indicted for wing such a blanked fool to escape in You should—* Just then the car started with a load of laughing passengers, and none haw-hawed nore heartily than’ the fat policeman on the back seat, as he said: “Be Jabers! the naygur is bating him at his own argymint.”’ RK kK & In a herdie the other day a manly little fellow got up from his seat by the door and moved down to the other end, to make place for a one-legged old gentleman, whose crutch would have made havoc ‘of th dainty dresses. “Thank you, my son,” s the old fellow. “You have a good mother. test ever was,” was the smiling response of the Ittle fellow, as he raised his hat and then took the fare to put in the box. That ‘Ss a boy in a thousand, and his tockings were darned at the knee, and the let out of his short knee pants, so that riches had nothing to do with | One must think sometimes, when ng in publ nveyances, that “good mothers" are a scarce article, or “better boys, improved manners, quently met with. boys with would be more fre- zs —_ A LOQUACIOUS PARROT. Polly is in a Good Many Ways Like Real People. A Washington dentist has a parrot which is at once the pride and pest of his house- hold. It is very loquacious, and its owner takes pleasure in exhibiting its qualifica- tions to his friends and patrons. The bird addresses its master by the title of “papa” when M™ the home apartments” upstairs, but invariably calls him “doctor” when In the office. Recently a policeman hed a large tooth removed, and, after it was extrac exclaimed “thank heaven that's out.” The next day, while a lady was ng from the operating room through the parlors, after undergoing some suffer- ing, the parrot ejaculated, much to the amusement of the waiting patients, and evidently out of sympathy with the lady, “thank heaven that thing is out.” A prospective patient, an old lady, had decided to have some extracting done. It was a “fat job," to use the dentist's ex- pression, and the fee would have been sub- stantial. The lady called at an appointed hour, and was ascending the stairs. The rrot caught sight of her, and, with dia- bolical fervor, gave vent to an unearthly k, in imitation of a suffering patient, the lady turned and fled the premises, and has never been seen in the neighborhood since. ‘This “son of Satan,” as its owner calls him, at times, has a great penchant for climbing the waterspout outside the build- irg. It has been punished repeatedly for this habit. Week before last it repeated performance, climbing to the roof, and ing all solicitations to descend. When night came, however, Polly descended and | te-entered its cage and received a sound drubbing for its misconduct. The punish- ment, quite severe, seemed to have its ef- fect, and the bird for several days did not even go to the window. Last week, how- ever, the dentist and his family having gone out, the parrot made its exit through | the window, and commenced its climb up the spout. A family occupying an upper flcor, saw the bird pass their window, and Were much amused at its soliloquizing, thus: “Polly won't climb the water spout! Pol- ly won't climb the water spout! Oh, no! Not much! Like —!"" ——_—_ How She Knew. From Life. Clara—“Didn't he kiss you?” Maude—What, did you hear me scream?” No. I heard you utter a cry of joy.” Not in Government Employ. Frem the Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph. “Are you an office holder?” said one man to ancther. “No; I vcrk for a living.” “Will you help a love-lorn man, mum?” “Love-lorn man! Why, yesterday you beg ten sick children and were blind your- self.” ‘I know {t, mum, but the children all died and the shock restored my eyesight.”—Life. THE THOMPSON STREET BI- CYCLE CLUB. Written for The Evening Star by M. Quad. “Gem'len of de club,” began President Toots, as the Thompson Street Colored Bi- cycle Club was called to order, “at a late meetin’ we had de queshun befo’ us, ‘Should a minister of de Gospil ride a bike?’ De sentiment of de members was about evenly divided, an’ no decishun was ar- rove at, but de same queshun am heah be- fo’ us again, an’ I shall hope to see it set- tled dis time fur good. De opinyun of yo’r president am so well known dat it would be idle fur me to say anythin’ on de sub- jick. We will ha’r from Brudder Slipback White on de matter.” Brother White said that near him lived a preacher who had learned to ride the bike and the difference in the demeanor of that man before and after was something amaz- ing. The previous air of humility was gone, and its place had been taken by a sort of cock-a-doodle-doo bearing which wave rise to much talk. He couldn’t say that the preacher had lost any of the good- hess of his soul, nor that his sermons were the less interesting, but contact with the frisky bike had certainly worked a change that he regretted to sce. One day the preacher had winked at him as they pa ed. On another vccasion the gvod man had asked if he saw any flies on him. On the third occasion the preacher's bike had struck a banana cart, and the preacher ard the dago had seemed to use words of about the same length and meaning. He had no wish to abridge any man’s rights, Dut it was his firm and unalterable opinion that preachers should keep both feet on e ground and not strike a gait of over five miles an hour. Eider Hopkins’ Remarks. Brother Elder Hopkins, who is sixty years eld and just married to his third wife, re- sponded to the call of the president by say- ing that he could not agree with Brother White. He was not a regularly ordained ospel, but had something a utation as an exhorter. He had w been riding the bike for three months, 1 if there was anything wicked about it e ought to have felt it. Had he been hurt by the contact? No! On the contrary, the bike had proved a blessing to him and to his hearers. Formerly he had the hare kind of work to keep his congregation awake, not to say interested, and he had grave reasors to fear that he did not earn the thirty or forty cents returned on the collection plates. How was it now? He walked into the pulpit after a five-mile spin on his bike, and in less than ten minutes half his audience were shouting “Amen! He could rip Satan up the back in a way he had never hoped to attain, and after 2 hortation of two hours nis congre still cried for him to go on He had also winked at men (aot women) of his ac- quaintance—he had also made it {mp for files to alight on his back—he had choked a dago half to death, but In spite of all that he felt that he was gaining in goodness and leaving Satan further be- Lind each day that he lived. Let ministers ride the bike if you want red-hot sermons. Brother Tobias is Neutral. Brother Weshington Tobias, who still ties himself on nis bike when he goes out, that there may be no sudden separation and resultant heart burnings, said that he had given the subject thirteen minutes of the nost serious thought, but could not arrive at any conclusion, He did vet want his preacher to be gay and coliy and go aroun] stepping high and talking alout horse races and dog fights. Neither did he want him to go sround Eke a pancake on legs and will- minister of th of ing to let every dog bite him and every | it fer kick a ne rapid ex Moubiless oat talls full of wrinkles. | ilarating motion of the bike v1 to stir up men's souls, and in some cases, perhaps, It made men worse, but he felt ‘that the ministry could bs trusted. If they found Satan on the saddle behind them they would discard the bike and go about on stilts. Let them ride or not ride, he would not take it upon him- self to decide. A Straight Tip. When the Rev. Penstock was called upon he rose with alacrity, and was evidently primed for the occaston. He is a regularly ordained minister and an advocate of the Iike, and there wag much Interest to hear what he would say. He opened on Brother White from the word go. The man who affirmed that riding a bike made a preacher sporty was a bigot, and did not know what he was talking about. He was a preacher with a flock. He had been riding a bike for five months, and’ had reached that point where he could Sdodge any ice wagon in town in turning a corner, but had any member of his congregation noticed any change in him for the worse? Did he act colty? Was there a sporty look to his eye- brows and whiskers? There had been a change in him, but it was for the better. He had got out and buzzed around, and the getting out had braced his spinal col- umn, given him a fresh hold of oratory, and his church was gaining new members at the rate of ten per week. He slept bet- ter, ate better, and though it still took a pint of arnica to rub him down after a spin, he believed he was nearer the good mark than ever before. If riding on some- thing rapid had a wicked influence on man, why were most railroad engineers pillars of ‘the chureh—why had so many horse jockeys come to him and expressed a wish to live better lives? The Idea was all non- sense. It was the wheel which was rapid— not the rider. Exhilaration was no wick- edness. One with a feeling of exhilaration strong upon him might wink at a woman riding a bike in the opposite direction, but it would be a harmless wink—a wink to merely an- nounce that he saw her and was glad that she was taking needed exercise. Hven should he chin with a female, it would not be a wicked chin—but simply inquiries after the state of h, pneumatic tire. Away with nonsense and bigotry—away with prejudice and prevarication! He should continue on as now, and if any of his congregation dis- covered that he was losing nis goodness he would resign at their demand, Preachers Can Ride. Several other members spoke upon the question pro and con, and it was then put to vote. By a majority of seventeen votes it was decided that preachers can ride the bike and look a little sporty and act a little colty, and that any one opposed to it can go to grass. Brother White, who holds such strong views in the negative, arose and offered his resignation, but the same was not accepted, and he was told to sit down and keep quiet until the meeting ad- journed. = Where Arithmetic Don't Come In. From the Chicago Evening Post. “I hear you're very good at arithmetic, Bobby,” said the visitor, pleasantly, “Sure,” returned Bobby, without looking up from his play. “Well, if I should tell you when your papa and your mamma were born could you tell me how old they are?” asked the visitor. “I conld tell you how old pap fs," an- swered the boy. “And not how old your mother is?” The boy shook his head. “Arithmetic hasn't anything to do with @ woman's age,” he said. o-— Ensily Adjusted. From the Dallas News. “Say, loan me $i0 for about a week.” ‘an’t; kaven't got but five.’ “That'll do—lend me the five for two weeks.” 200 It Varies, From the Louisville Courter-Journal. “Pap, what is a ‘nccn hour?" Well, scn, at our bank it is from twelve until half-past for the clerks, but the offil- cers generally get from half-past eleven to three.” eee What a Brute. From Church Progress. Distressed Young Mother (traveling with a crying infant)—‘‘Dear me! I don’t know what to do with this bab; Kind and Thoughtful Bachelor (in the all I open the window for ++ All the Same. From Adams Freeman. Teacher—For what is Nantucket noted?” Johnny—"For slippers.” ‘Why, no; It's noted for whaling.” ‘Well, I know it had something to do with slippers.” A KANSA$ LOVE STORY “Well, I'll jest tell ye, Fred, why I'm a singin’ an’ @ whistlin’ these last few days, an’ I’ guess what’s happened to me ts what's happened to all the birds around here who're singin’ an’ a pipin’ ’s if they were feedin’ on violin notes.” “Well, you know George Riggs’ sister, Mabel—they all moved to the village last fall —she's visitin’ -her uncle’s folks near here Jest now. Somehow I kind 0’ took a shine to her long ago. An’ when she moved to the village, this“Jocality was like a garden without a flower. I used to go to the vil- lage Sundays,te see if I couldn't meet her or see her, but luck were agin me. An’ when I heered she was at her uncle's, I went over an’ borrowed a few things, Jest fer an excuse, then brought ‘em back agin, knowin’ I'd get a look at her. “Ever since I’ve known she's been near here I've had a kind o' queer feelin’ for “er—o' course she didn’t know thet I loved her, she never 'spected sech a thing—but somehow I couldn't help it. She allus seemed so sensible and kind o' tender like, to me, and if ye had a heart, her voice ‘ed sure melt it fer ye. “I was afeared to tell her I loved her, fer I didn’t know really how she'd take It. I kind o° held back that queer feelin’ when she was ‘round, an’ tried to ease thet thumpin’ I felt, an’ I can jest tell ye it got mighty strong sometimes—was afeared my shirt bosom 'd get a bopbin’ an’ she'd see It. But she knows it now, guess the secret must 0" leaked out o’ my eyes, fer it came about in this way. a “Ye know I went to the party last Sat- urday night. Well, my Mabel—fer she's mine now, ye know—my Mabel was there, too. We had a fine time. ‘ybody felt to home, sorter lke, and carried on and laughed—laughed right out loud, if ye felt like St, an’ no one 'd make big eyes at ye, as if ye'd brcken one o’ the Ten Command- ments an’ in doin’ so ye made a racket lke smashin’ a dozen plates on the floor. “Guess I must 0’ been kind 0” slow, ‘cause the boys got hold o’ my Mabel—she's mine how, ye know—and passed her round an’ xind o° left me out. Made me feel a little bit fooltsh, but I oouldn’t crowd into that Uttle game somehow, so I got some o” the other girls to dance with me. But I couldn't dance well with them, somehow. Must o' been because I couldn't keep my eyes off o° Mabel; guess that’s why I got so mixed up in that quadrille; an’ In that Virginee Reel I got hold o' her twice instead o” my pard- rer—my arms were somehow bound to go where my heart was a-goin’. “Fin'ly we got through dancin’ an’ sup- per was called. Fer a minute my heart was in my mouth, an’ {f I hadn't kept on swal- lerin’ it'd a choked me, sure. I was afeared one 0° those boys 'd take my Mabel to sup- per, and if she went then my apertite was gone sure. But they didn’t get ‘er, fer what did she do but jest trip up to me like a feather on a breeze, and ask me if I weren't goin ’to supper? T said:'O" course I am, if I can go with you.’ She jest smiled and’ put her soft hand in mine an’ kind o’ led the way to the table. Well, when she touched my hand, I felt 's if I had Hold o one o' those lectrifyin’ machines, an’ I know I stepped to that table lke a horse with the spring- halt. Don't know whether I ett anything er not, hardly think I did, fer somethin? took the place o” my apertite an’ made me feel kind 0” full like. Must o’ been some- thin’ thet wasn’t very solid, fer when I got home I jest sailed Into a custard ple like a hurricane through a second growth. “Well, I took her home after suppe took her arm as we were walkin’ along an’ held tt kind a clese to me, an’ s my hand fell into hers an’ She jest Hehtly put her soft fingers over it. !in'ly I got ™y courage up to tell her—zo tell her—thet 1 hoped I'd see her again soon, an’ she sald thet she honed I'd soon call on her. Fin'ly we reached the gate, an’ by that time I had her hand in ini nd somehow fergot to let go, and fer a second 'r two We stood afare each other. 1 caught her and she looked into mine, and I guess mire kind o' give the whole thing away. i er than I cam tell it, my arm kind o° went around her waist, jest drew her toward m an’ she was ce “lf a little. I couldn't say a word, like a sensible girl, vest seid, was | cnough. I gueas fT said, ‘Mabel, “The moon. lit up weet face, and there was a snile playin’ on it like tne moonbeams aon the water, and those eyes 0” hers jgst looked so tender an’ thet I felt mr very soul gettin’ warm. “I kissed ber good-night, and we've been together since and talked’ it all over, and if the crops Gon't fail ag'in this fall we'll be married this winter. “I tell, 2 ye don't know why yer vin’ an’ yer hands off till ye’ve had the feelin’ that makes yer heart thump like a fannin’ machine, and makes ye hot- own warm ter the more it thumps. Then when ye find out thet yer darlin’ loves ye, why ye kin work like a beaver all d . an’ at night ye can jest think o' her and ye fer- get all about bein’ tired. “Ye can jest bet, if these ‘ere crops fill in this fall, there won't be a happler couple in Kansas than Mabel an’ me.” mens Why He Wept. From the Indlanapolls Journal. “I hear that the only emotion Fizzle’s client showed before he went to the gal- lows was on parting with Fizzle. I am told that he ectually wept." “Yep. He said that if he only had a chance t» kill Fizzle for the way he man- aged his defense he wouldn’t mind the mere Incicent of Leing hanged.” The ambitious tiger.—Life, THE BOWSERS’ TROUBLES Written far The Evening Star by M. Quad. A good many little adventures happened while the family were getting settled in the farm house, but on the whole Mr. Bowser behaved fairly well. A week had passed when he said to Mrs. Bowser one morning: “Well, I'm going to put In a big day's work today. I’ve got to work off some of this surplus fat and harden up. I think I'll tackle the grass first. There ought to be a mowing machine around somewhere.” “You mean a scythe,” she said. “Do I? Well, it's all the same thing. I think there's one hanging up in the barn. Think of it, Mrs. Bowser—the merry, mer- ry farmer, whistling as he sharpens his scythe in the green meado: I'll sharpen. I'll whistle. I'll have the scent of this new- mown hay blown all over this country be- fore the clock strikes 10. Wasn't it a glori- ous idea of mine—renting this farm for the summer? Just hear ihat bluebird warbling his lay, will you?” ‘That's a crow cawing,” said Mrs. Bow- er, after listening. “Is it? Well, it's all the same thing. We might have lived in town for fifty years and never heard a crow trill, “Can't we have strawberries for dinner? Green said there were enough on the place for a big family.” “I have looked the yard over, and th is just one strawberry vine. If that bea: any fruit between now and dinner time I'il have it on the table. He told you there were oceans of currants, but I can’t find any bushes.” “Bushe: exclaimed Mr. Bowser. “Do you expect to find currants growing on bushes! I thought you were brought up on a farm? “Where do they grow?” she asked. “Do you see that bed out t 2 when it's time for currants wi by the bushel, There you go! you grinning at now “That is a bed of burdocks out there!” she laughed. “Burdocks! Well, 1 have ‘em What are Never! Never, in all this world! I was jumping over burdocks as a boy before you saw the Iight of day. You may think they are burdocks, Mrs. Bo’ ser, but what you don’t know about farm- ing would fill a mighty big book. Don't you worry about currants—I'll see that we have ‘em by the barrel. Now, then, to sharpen my scythe.” There was a scythe hanging up in the barn and Mr. Bowser lugged it up to the house and spent half an hour looking for something to sharpen it with. There was nothing better than a brickbat, and he worked away with that and whistled “Yan- kee Doodle” until he thought he had work- ed up an edge. While he was working and whistling a farmer who was driving along the road stopped to as “Hello, naybur. Gittin’ ready for hayin’ “That's what I am,” replied Mr. Bowser. “Know all about mowin', I s'pose.”* Guess T do—why?" “Oh, nuthin’, I kinder thought you did from the way you sharpened that se: Goin’ to hey a fine day of it, by the looks of things. “What was he saying?" asked Mrs. Bo fer, as she came out and the farmer had driven along. “He'd never seen a scythe sharpened with a brickbat before, I guess,” replied Mr. Bowser. ‘That's what the ancients use altogether. Old Pliny and Socrates end Diogenes would have laughed to see a man use a whetstone. Does the thing look all right to you?” “Yes, but I don't believ a scythe in all your life. “You don't, eh?” he growled, as he rolled you ever handled up his shirt sleeves. ‘You may beliave what i nt to, but when I begin throwing rv the house you'll take a back seat. ver handled a scythe, eh? Perhaps your ather was the only man in the United States who ever sent a ton of hay to mar- ket. If you don’t want that bey cut in two at the fir: p. get him out of the way Young Bow and seated on the doorsiep, of the scythe stuck into the ground instead of encircling the grass, and such was Mr. Bowser’s grip on the handles that he lost his equilibrium and tumbled over himself, and went head first into the tangle. His hat was jammed down over his eyes, his mouth was filled with stuff, and as he got up with Mrs. Bowser’s help, while young Bowser began to howl in dismay, he jumped up and down and shouted: “Woman! This is your doings, and by the whiskers of my great grandfather, I'll get even with you for it! throat! Was that your little plan?” “I'm sure I-I—" ‘You get into the hous you! I know what you me down!" Mrs. place to begin. er was puiled out of the grass and as Mr. asked Mrs. Bow- ‘Never you mind—I see through it all! Suppose I'd fallen on the blade and cut my and the boy with When I made that stroke you grabbed my leg and threw Bowser and her only son disap- peared, and, after picking up the scythe and looking it all over and taking a rest for ten minutes, Mr. Bowser sought out a new He moistened his hands ART AND ARTISTS Mr. 8. Jerome Uhl has about finished a striking lkeness of the wife of Represenia- tive Thomas -W. Phillips of Pennsylvania, and has well under way one of the Con- gressman himself. Among other portraits which the artist is at work on are one of the late J. D. Merritt, the photographer, and one of John W. Maury, at one ‘ime mayor of this city. The latter portrait, painted for the Metropolitan National Bank, of which Mr. Maury was one of the early presidents, shows him when still quite a young man. His hair falls low upon his fcrehead in a dark, thick tass, and his face has a frank, open expression by which one ts unconsciously attracted. Mr. Uhl has been painting upon a wood panel a view of the White House as it appears from a balcony of the Navy Department. He {s planning to carry further a study he made some time ago of Max Weyl at work in his studio in Vernon row. The diffusion of the cold north light toning down the rich orlental coloring of the rugs and hangings, characteristic of the studio of his brother artist, is so sucecessfully han- dled that Mr. Uhl feels a desire to elabo- rate the study mcre cavefull. * ~* On Saturday last Mr. E. C. Messer and a number of students forming the nucleus of his summer class left for P: where they will spend their time ing the beautiful scenery of the Blue Ridge ‘country. * ~* Mr. Edwin Lamasure has just returned from the Alleghenies, and as he ¥ wedding trip, it is perhaps not that his portfolio is not as full of s! as usual. He intends to return to that re- gion in a couple of weeks to make a more extended stay, in order to gather material on the picturesque Greenbrier river for his exhib:tion in the fall. A receat sketch of Mr. Lamasure’s, taken over on the hills Arlington ‘when a str nd was. ng dark, threatening clouds across the is one of the truest things the artist ver done. It is not only faithful to ture in color and atmosp) but the &eod judgment exercised in the selection of a subject renders it very pleasing in com- position, near w * x * The year’s work at the Art Students’ League closed last week, as there will be no summer class this season. Miss Alma De Mier, who has tilted in a very able manner the dual position of superintens and instructor in the preparatory antique classes for two years, will be in New York next winter pursuing further her artistic studies, and the students lose not only a valued teacher, but a personal friend. Her Successor will be Miss Wooding, also of the New York Art League. * ** The two semi-circular mural paintings which Kenyon Cox has made for the Con- gressional Library buiiding were placed in Position last week, and form an important part of the growing magnificence of the building. The simplicity and majesty in his figures are qualities extremely desirabie in mural decoration, where a kind of architectural solidity is not out of place. The designs are rather light in color, the hues being delicate rather than rich in tone, but ex- luisite as the coloring ts in many places Mr. Cox's greatest power lies in the de- lineation of form, and that, too, rather by the use of line than by light and shade In the decoration at the north end of th room, where they are placed, the centr figure, scated upon a marble throne holding a lyre in her hand, rep: Poetry. To ‘the right Sculpture i: 1 nd ents n | Bow: spat on his hands and flourished | holding in one hand a Statuette of the | the the around, Mrs. Bowser retreated. | slave by Michael Angelo, and leaning light. Mr. Bowser mae three or four motions to| ly on her shoulder is her sister art Passes get the “hang of the thing,” and then drew | ing, repres: by a half-draped’ female a long breath and made a tremendous| figure holding a paletie and brushes, The swipe at the grass before him. He remem-| goiden tints in the garments of the two bered enough about mowing to recollect} women make a peculiarly harmonioue con. that a mower should utter a ‘hu!’ and| bination of coloring, and several p.ccss of give a sort of a “squat” as he swung the | decorated pottery resting near the Krowp | Seythe. The “ was all right and the| serve as an illustration of the close rela. juat" fairly up to the mark, but the potnt] tion of the arts of form aud color. On th other side of the center is the ailezor figure representing Music playing ~p. violin from a sheet of music w! h cherub holds for her, and standing besid her is Architecture, holding a column in one hand. The conception of the latter is especially good, even the robe which she folds, a Wears falling in heavy e keeping with the idea which the bodies. In the composition at the other end of the hall the woman enthroned in the middle represents Astronomy. One of her attend- ant cherubim ts sighting through a tele- Scope, while the other holds a globe upon which she is measuring with a pair of com- passes. The two female figures to the left typify Mathematics, the one holding an abacus in her hand, the principle of which she is explaining, representing the theoret- ical part, and the one with e pair of scale: in her hand symbolizing the more practical ect of mathematics. On the other side is a biological group. A woman dressed in an ornately decorated gown holds in her Vegetable life, and in close converse with her, seated upon the marble balustrade al in, looked around at the house and then | Which runs throughout the entire length of in as before. The “hu!” and the | the design, is another woman, whose in- " worked up. tiptop, but, instead of | terest is centered in the peacock beside her, entering the grass, the blade was broken off short. the stomach and rather than gasped: i this, may I never see another sunrise!" Note.—Mr. Bowser may the neighbors that he’s no spring chicken. - —— 2nc The Modern Coachman, From London ‘Tid-Bits. “You advertised for a coachman, sir?” said the applicant. “I did,” replied the merchant, Want the place?’ “Yes, sir.” “Have you had any experience?” , “T have been in the business all my Ife." “You are used to handling gafolin then?" “y, “D> you sir.” nd you are well up in electricity’” “Thoroughly.” s “Good! Of course, you are a maciinis' also?" “Certainly. “And I presume you have an engnee: certificate?” “Of course. “Very well. You may go round -‘o t! outhouse and get the motocycle reacy. = wife tells me that she wishes to do a) cl shopping.” Suing for the Body of His Affance: Bride. A From the Chicago Chronicle. A remarkable trial will be heard, 11 *Squire Wilson's court in West Newton, P. It will probably be appealed to tle cor- mon pleas court, whatever the fecisia may be. John Martin was engaged to Mis Hattie Phillips. The day before tie wel- ding the bride, who had been ill for sever days, fell dead while decorating a vindoy. Her death was due to hereditary heart @3- ease. Martin has on his farm a graveya-d in which is a handsome vault. Tae lot is noted for its beautiful decorations. Marin asserts that as the marriage licens> wag s- sued, the girl was virtually his, and he asks the court to mandamus the pare ts that he may secure possession of che bidy and bury it in his vauit, a ee Extra Dry. From the Boston C First reporter—‘I couldn't get a word out of old Bullion. Second reporter—‘No, he is a sient riu- tation of the old saying that momy tal —se<e— A Raise on a Rainy Day. From Life. “No wonder my ribs are always go p'ain- ly in eviden " sollloquized the umbrilla, morosely; “people invariably strite me for a raise on a rainy day!” = aco =" Evidence is Lacking. Fremn the Detroit Tvibuae. Girl—“Did ycu enjoy yourself st the par- | ty last night?” Arother Girl—“I fancy rot. I don’t seem to have aiy bead this morning.’ “swiped” along in the air, with the result that Mr. Bowser was turned clear around with the momentum, and the point of the scythe struck the only shade tree on the place and At the same time one of the handles of the scythe hit him in left him gasping for breath, and as he sank down he thought 1f I don’t get even with Mrs. Bowser for make a Gismal failure as a mowist, but when he cones to hold the plow he’l! show Mrs. Bowser and symbolical of animal life. The last men. toned is a nude figure, possessing to a high degree that peculiar grace of line aiso no- ticeable in the drawing of the winged cherubim. The stone railing seen at the back of both decorations has its own part to play in the scheme of decoration, for even by this slight architectural element the desigus become more a part of their surroundings, and one views them more as mural decorations than as independent paintings. Beauty seems io be the ruling idea in Mr. Cox's artistic creed, and uplie Bess, no matter how interesting and power- ul it may be, has no place in his work. * Mr. Rudolph Cronau, "who divides his time between literary and artistic work, left on [Monday for Dolgeville, N. Y. The place is ‘situated in the midst of the uperb scenery of the Adirondacks, and s me of Mr. Cronau’s best work has been in the de tion of just such rugged views as tie region there will afford him. * ~* Mrs. F. G. Doubleday plans to go before long to Binghamton, N. Y., where she will spend the summer. She does not intend to confine herself to landscape, as so many do in their vacation painting, but will fit up @ studio and continue her ordinary work under the more favorable conditions which the cooler climate there insures. She is most happy in her portrait heads and in her still NHfe subjects, and has Painted many excellent flower studies, a line of work which she will have abundant cp- portunity to follow up during the summer months. * ‘ *~* Miss Katherine Chipman has just com- pleted a good likeness in water color of a lady well known in society here, which ts also excellent from a technical point of view, as in the handling of the dress, and in particular that of the point lace bertha. ss Chipman has finished up all her or- ders and will leave in a few weeks for Boston, in the neighborhood of which she will stay during the warm weather. * ** There is a very strong feeling among the local artists with regard to the decision which the committee of the army rendered on the models submitted for the Sherman statue. The artists characterize it as a positive breach of faith, and say that it will in future deter sculptors of any stand- ing from entering government comp tions. It is also asserted that the men who entered the second competition, with the possible exception of the winner, did with the distinct understanding that th work was to be passed upon by committee, and it is generally conc the artists that if the models had been last before such a competent jury, Carl Rohl Smith would not have had a’ghost of a chance. J. Q. A. Ward, the chairman of the committee appointed by the Sculptors’ Society, says that the feeling among the New York artists is such that the mater will not pass without a vigorous protest. * ** Miss Sara B. Peacock has recently com- pleted a portrait of Miss Carroll, pain:ed for her sisters, and !s now at work on a likeness of Miss Cleveland Smith. She has hand a green branch, which sy mbolizes | some time. | times = ————=—[—=—=—_ MORE Permanent Cures REPORTED. Due to Dr. Shade’s CHLORIDUM DISCOVERY FOR CONSUMPTION All Cured in Washington Without a Change of Climate. “Distany persons Jends: enctus ufferin as a result and pul in home, leaving Dr. bh bus been Uh by ep vument unp: doa larger ported tn on any tr By other countr 1s udvisable tm sume cases who Shade's treatment to make @ change jmenths, in which ease the taken during the suui Climate take Dr. wing the hot treatment is ting has o of « sumption. 50 every porson leaving y for the summer ehould take y with them, following losis ronoUrced cured by Dr. Shade three years ago: In adalti physiclans- were 2 14th street, wpe, two and to Dr. M r, 23 Street southeast, Mrs, 8th st northwest; Dr. Patterson, 52 B street nortl Mr. Brown, 130% 8 street northwest, and Mrs Thy, 615 M street northwest, whose case bave been reported among the permane: Sirs. Holland, exst, is as remarkalle a cure be The ful yet reported, her father, Major Drummond, died of con- sumption, ax did a daughter and son. Mrs. Holland's fainily physician diagnosed case tubcreulosis over two years ago, and siuce teking treatment of Dr. Shade for seven montis the same family physician mude ap examination of Mrs. Hollaud's jungs, and gave a certificate which stated that be “found her lungs free from disease.” Read ber husband's letter, and in gote “Dear Dr. Shade—When I placed my wife under your treutinent six months ago I little dreamed that a cure would be the result, my wife's fa brother and sister having died of the 4 consumption readily tu had no hope, expecially two Washington specialists. by Interviews with p sulted fn a trial of ant You have advised me to have ber lunzs examined to test the cure, which has been dou our «ld family physician, why first pearly two years ago. complete. He pow prow It you te been elaborat taken at Aua Mr. Charles Ayer Whipp who is at the Grafton, is busil on a portrait of Senator Sh in eign affairs committee room of the The work, which is progress: regarded very favorably by eran statesman and his fri of Secretary Tracy cently hung in t one of Secretary ment. Both of th full lengt ne for- an P 4 s, by Mr. Whippl specially of General Mii regarded as Leading U From the Detroit Free Press. He had been taking us many of his meals down town as possible and happening in only at odd irtervals as a man always Goes when there is work ar id the house that he might do in connection with the spring cleaning. “Orlando,” she sa!d, “I have been brush- rd the moths out of your military uni- orm “I'm much obliged, I'm svre. “It reminded me that I hadn't heard you Say anything about your rifle prectice for You are keeping it up, are you not?” “Of course.” “And you mus 1 by this time “Improved? can hit ave improved a great I re com- de Well, I should say so. the bull's eye at 2 ya other rds m the than auy man in pany. ‘That's splendid. do it. But, of ¢ me following you aro ps it wou h I could see you you wouldn't want 1 everywhere.” n't be lest.” what you might T'll tell y What is 1t? cme home early tomorrow and let me see how many times ion you can hit the head of a carpet tack with the hammer. It seems simple, but you know, dear used to have a great deal of’ trou Joing even that, and I should so like to see how you have improved!” The Word “Habituated From the Detroit Free Press. “I went you to be ver: do things my way, the midd careful to learn to the housewife said to aged colored woman whom she had secured as a servant. “Yass'm,” was the reply git merself habituated. o's I'll done “You use pretty large words, Virginia.” “Yass'm. But I done knows de meanin’ of ‘em.” What does ‘habituated’ mean?” “Well, I d’no ez I kin ezackly tell yer. But [ kin ‘splain it.” 1 should be very glad to have you do so.” “Mer Uncle Jason Dewberry, he done hadder fahm lef’ "im las’ monf. He tuck possession an’ he’s libbin’ dah jes fine. He's got all chickins he w was pow'ful fond er chick de troof. Ebry time he make he gwineter hab chickin he get gum shoes an’ takes out er an’ goes out in de night an pullet offen "is own roos’ br chance ter squawk ow: ter git yohse'f habitu: lus is Had Pinyed It Both vow From the Roxbury Gazette. Bloozin—“I see that the clection 414 nor re ted tas you predic Jazrig s one I predic it « ed to. u're not the only — see Not a Novice. a the Chicago Rei He—-"“Do you know anything teur photography?” She—"I should say I do. tographed twice’ about ama I've been phee soe Trouble Ahead. Mamma, 1 would Like heavy woolen breeches today Why so, Tom?" “Well, you know, we get our reports te day.’ on put my