Evening Star Newspaper, August 22, 1896, Page 18

18 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 22, 1896-TWENTY PAGES. GEORGE WAS! INGTON HOUSE. IN OLD BLADENSBURG Picturesque and Quaint, It Defies Progress. A STAUNCH RELIC OF THE PAST Hotels in Plenty, but a Dearth of Good Cheer. LOYAL INHABITANTS OME FOUR MILE! northeast of Wash- ington, along the tangled banks of the Eastern branch, sleeps the 0ld,historic and picturesque vil- lage of Bladensburg. There, between the hills, its old dilapi- dated houses still stand, as some of them have already been standing for more than a century, their porches growing a little more shaky and their roofs adding a little more moss each year, but still defying wind and weather, and bidding fair to keep right on there, standing and withstanding, for no- ody knows how much longer. Curious to see what changes might have been made lately by time, or what sacrilege might have been wrought there by the great ‘American juggernaut, progress, I rode out one day last week to reconnoiter. What as my surprise at crossing the bridge at the south end of the village to espy a stgn, the very first thing, which read: “$5.00 Fine for Riding Your Bicycle on the Sidewalks.”” Cculd it be that the ever-hurrying bicyclist flad invaded Bladensburg? Yes, so it proved. In fact, the most animated scene I espted THE OLD STEP days. It consists of two pafts—the hotel proper, which is closed, and the bar room adjoining the south side, which is not closed. A large sign extends out into the road, bearing the familiar face of the father of his country, with the lettering below it, “George Washington House.” Tradition has it that Washington stopped there one night on his way over to Balti- more to meet Lafayette. One would nat- urally expect that such a house would be kept on the Arrerican plan, but, strange to say, the proprietor, unmindful of-the dic- tates of patriotism, hung out a sign an- nouncing that it was kept on the “Euro- pean” plan. Even such a novel plan seems to have failed to draw guests, however, for that sign has now disappeared, and a board hangs upon the door, mournfully stating that the building is “for rent.” The Palo Alto House bears two large signs o1 either s'de. On the side met with coming into town its patrons see the words “First chance,” and on the other sign 1s the warning, “Last chance.” This, how- ever, is not strictly accurate, for as long as a man has money in his pcckets he need not thirst in this vicinity. There are oth- ers. The Palo Alto has the date upon it, a | but the present building is not that old. “Meals at All Hours.” Just below the Palo Alto is an old white structure, upon whose southside is painted in large black letters, “Prince George House, meals at all hours Alas, it is a gay deceiver, and the weary traveler who there seeks the comfort of meals at al! hours will turn away sadder and hungrier. ‘The Pan-Electric House is the most up-to- date of them all. It now rejoices in a new coat of paint, and stands in the heart of the place, the very business center, in fact, opposite the blacksmith shop, and within & stone’s throw from the post office. They Say, too, that it was struck by a shell from the American lines at the battle of Bla- densburg. Older than any of the others, however, Was the Spa Hotel, condemned and taken down some years ago by the town officials, after it had already mostly fallen down and saved them the trouble. It was at the time the oldest building in the village. Truly, “the tavern -with its sWinging sign” is much in evidence in this quaint gid hamlet. As I stood opposite the George Washington House an elderly man emerged from a door suspiciously near the word “‘Bar,”” and came careening across in my direction. “Hotel, did you say?” he asked huskily, in response to my question. “That ain't no hotel. Why, sink me, if I had all my money that's gone into’ that Place I'd be a rich man.” And he looked it. Bladensburg is one of those queer. old towns in which any one who has a leaning HOUSE. fm the town during my stay was a couple of men discussing the question of saddles. It is rather tough on visitors, though, to put up signs warning them to keep their Wheels off the sidewalks, without putting up signs to indicate where the walks are. One would need the eves of an Argus to dis- tirguish between street and walk a good Part of the way, as even the natives them- selves admit. I did not find any sweeping changes In the old tcwn itself, however. No electric rail- reads have been built, nor have any sky- ecrapers been erected. It is the same old Place—only a little older. Bladensburg ‘s mestly built up along two streets. Its chief thoroughfere—that is to say, at least, the «ne where all the saloons are—is known somewhat indifferently as Main, Front or Vater street. The inhabitants, I under- and, do not favor its being called Water street, because that leads to the inference that it ts frequently overflowed, which, as ene of them stated, is rot the case, or, at ary rate, he added, qualifyingly, “not more than once a yea This street, whatever its name may be, contains some of the old- est and most interesting buildings in the town. The more modern tumble-down panties of the colored people are inter- spersed with the older dwellings, whose wide brick chimneys, cracked and worn The Ross House. with age, rise from the ground alongside the walls, and whose broken-hacked roofs are green with moss or blackened and warped by many rains. A Plethora of Hostelries. Main street revels in “hotels.” The word must be taken in a somewhat figurative sense, however. It ts refreshing to hear the towncpeople still refer to them as “public houses,” while practical every-day Wash- {ngtonfans would probably call them by the hard name of saloons. They were hotels once, though, all of them, with an excellent Feputation for hospitality and good cheer, and perhaps their proprietors are not to be too severely scored, since Bladensburg hag lost its commercial glory, in concen- trating their energies in the only depart- ment of the hotel which still pays them. Chance visitors might think themselves well rovided for in hearing that the town ‘asted of such hostelries as the Pan-Elec- tric, the George Washington House, the Palo Alto and the Prince George House. Bome slight inquiries, however, would re- Yeal the fact that these establishments had long since dispensed h such trifling f Malities as providing their guests with fooms or meals. ‘The George Washington House is one cf the most notable of these hotels of othr toward the bygone and the picturesque may find much to interest him. It smacks decidedly of the past, and is one of the sev- eral landmarks around Washington which civilization has passed by and left on one side in its march. “A place for idle eyes and ears, A cobwebbed nook of dreams: Left by the stream whose waves are years, The stranded village seems.” Departed Glory. Apparently it has lived its day. Founded before Alexandria or Georgetown It was once destined for a great city, and in the latter part of the last century it really “as a place of importance. The Anacostia river, which now can only be traversed in @ row beat, was then a larger stream, and sizeable tobacco boats ascended It as far as Bladensburg. The town began Its ex- istence properly in 1742, although there was @ settlement there known a3 Garrison's Landing before that. It is supposed also that Capt. John Smith visited the spot in 1608 in his exploring voyage. The people of the town fall chiefly into three classes: The original white inhab- itants, who have grown up there and cling with a natural affection to their native vi lage; people from Washingion, who, ai tracted by the picturesqueness of the town, have bought up some of the old places and now occupy them in summer, if not all the year around, and, lastly, a good- ly quota of colored people, who Ive there mainly because they haven't cnywhere else to live. The old settlers, it must be said, know very little about their home. One man tells you one thing, the next man an- other, while the larger number of them simply rep!y that they don’t know. There is a kind of advantaze in this, however. There are no official guides in Lladensburg, and you are not constrained to learn the exact number of bricks in the Stephens house, nor carry in your head the total number of schooners that have crcssed the bar at the George Washingtoa House since the Declaration of Independence. Ar.d after all, the old Bladensburgians are very pa- triotic, and love the old hamlet where they dwell. “I have moved away three time: said one old lady who was born there, “and each time I have come vack. You’ can’t coax me to leave here again as long as I live, if, I can find a roof to put my head HENS’ under.” The Oldest Inhabitant. Mr. Benjamin Lowndes is the “oldest in- habitant,” and Probably the only native resident, since the death of Mr. Barron, who {s well posted on its history. He has lived there all his life, and his he me, which 1s a little way out from the village, occu- ples, perhaps, the finest site about the town. His house {s an old, rambling frame Structure on the brow of a superb hill overlooking the valley, and his Place is well kept up in old-fashioned comfort and convenience. Mr. Lowndes was born in Bladensburg, and there he has lived all his life. When asked about his 2ge_he merely replie: I’m above eighty.” But later he admitted that he recollected the battle of Bladensburg. “I was about three years old at that time, I believe,” he said to me. “I remember that I was lying on the lounge, and was awakened by the co of pele She pauls being in 1814 is_would make him about eighty- e oldest house in Bladensburg is t! Stephers house. It stands just under the brow of the Sand street hill, well back from the road, and is reached from a cross street. The old place is now océu- Pled by Mr. Dieudonne, the Washington artist, and his pleasant family, Mrs. Dieu- donne being a daughter of Judge Stephens. On the huge chimney at the south end one cculd formerly read the date 1746. The figure “6” has recently dropped off, but it is still preserved. The winding staircase j fs just like the one at Mount Vernon. On ‘tte west door Is @ huge ‘knocker a foot in length, while in the parlor is a very val- uable mirror of former days. The Stephens house was built by Christopher Lowndes, grandfather of the present Benjamin Lowndes, and it is claimed that a party of French officers, including Lafayette, were entertained there at the time of the American revolution. It is still perfectly solid, and when a door was recently cut in one of the walls a foot thick, the car- Penter remarked that he wouldn’t want the job of pulling the house down. People built things to last in those days. Interesting Old Houses. _ North of the Stephens house is the Rogers Place, which is quite historical, and just west, across the road, is Lawyer Duckett’s house, where Adm‘ral Harewood once lived. During his voyages he collected some queer relics. In the fireplace is a tile brought from some Med‘terranean port, upon which is carved a dog with open jaws, while beside #t is the somewhat uninviting inscription, “Cave canem,” or, in plain every-day United States, “Beware of the dog.” Another very interesting house, and the second oldest in town, is the Ross house, which was built in 1749. This is just around the corner from the Pan-Electric Hotel, the front yard being utilized as a cornfield. It is now owned by a colored man, Mr. S. K. Lee. The walls, which are made of English bricks, are still firm, but inside the house is fast going to pieces. In the fireplace can be szen the somewhat puzzling inscription “Otuxent,” rezard ng whcse orig:n or mean- ing nobody in Bladensburg seems able to throw any light. This house was used as a hospital during the revolutionary war. Bladensburg’s commercial importance is not striking. True, it has a blacksmith shop, whose scattering array of broken- down carts and wagons, stray hubs, warped tires and runaway horseshoes blends well with the scene. It stands on the edge of The Old Mill. the Eastern branch, at the head of naviga- tion, as it were. Then there is the old mill, situated on the Bunker Hill road, just a tew rods from the bridge, and hard by the dueling ground. It is old and dingy without and its rusty machinery inside is covered with dust and cobwebs. One of the wheels has already rotted away, and the days of the other are numbered. “Your ‘mills haven't been running for some time,” I re- marked to one of the townspeople. | “No, he said, “nothing but the ginmills—they’re always runnin’. A Kindly Warning. When you go to Bladensburg, take your lunch; I didn’t. Up the street is a “bakery and confectioner’,” which looks very in- viting from without, because the curtain is usually drawn, but appears somewhat empty when you get inside. “What have you got for a lunch?” I inquired of the girl in charge, eyetng the counter suspi- ciously. “Oh, doughnuts, cookies and chewing gum,” she answered cheerily, and unless you are prepared to make a meal off assorted flavors of chewing gum It is well to he provided in advance. Bladensburg is not without its churches, either. The principal trouble seems to be, as one old lady put it, that “we've got churches, but no congregations.” On ask- mg her what denominations were repre- sented in the town she replied, “Oh, mos'ly Methodists, Episccpalians and Protestants.” Down the Bladensburg pike, about a mile and a half below the village, is the ground where the battle of Bladensburg was fought, followed by the sack of Washing- ton in 1814. Near at hand Is the other of the famous dueling grounds. ‘The Spa spring, just to the right of the bridge over the northwest branch on the way to Hyattsville, is the rendezvous for the people of Biadensburg on warm sum- mer evenings. Its waters are at least abundant and refreshingly cold, whether or not they have the great medicinal prope ties for which the folks of the surrounding region give them credit. Hardly any else is used for drinking water in Bi burg, and the spring at all events contains large quantities of iron and sulphur. Just about twilight of a pleasant evening the beiles and beaus of the village may be seen gathering at the spring. Awkward young colored blades lounge about, while colored damsels, healthy and picturesque, if not absolutely pretty, may be seen de- parting swinging their demijohns or bal- ancing their pails on their heads. The Spa spring is a famous trysting place. Here come the country swains to meet their lady loves, and here I bade good night to the village without disturbing them. A. H. W. ES Skill in Shunning Creditors. From the Detroit Free Press. The schemes that debtors sometimes evolve to rid themselves of annoying col- lectors are always amusing—to everybody but the debtors. The very funniest char- acter that Dickens ever conceived—in the mind of man—is Micawber, ke with the flat purse and plethoric speech. Who that has ever read it can forget the in- expressibly funny incident of Micawber, upon his departure for Australia, giving poor Traddies his “note-of-hand” for what he owed him, assuring him that that ob- ligation at least was settled? And how Traddles, while looking upon the transac- tion in a somewhat different light, meckly submitted to Micawber's pecultar logic and allowed him to walk away while he was recovering from the shock. Some of the tactics resorted to by these haunted debtors.show ingenuity worthy of a better cause. On one occasion a man who had the constables on his track was about to take a stroll from his house. He was standing on the doorstep talking to his wife, when he saw two suspictous-look- ing men coming hurriedly toward him. Quickly taking his note book from his pocket he waited until the men were in hearing and then, in a purposely loud voice, he said to his wife: “So your husband's out again. He never does seem to be in. It’s shameful. I have already called half a dozen times to settle this account. If he’s not in to- night when I call I shall put the matter into court.” “Did you say your husband was cut?” asked one of the newcomers. “Yes,” replied the wife, “this gentleman Was just inquiring for him.” ‘The three men turned and went down the steps together. “We've got little chance of getting any- thing there,” the debtor said. “I suppose you are after the man, too. Come and have a drink.” After that he was continually meeting the constables about his house and invaria- bly passed a cheery word with them. SS SS The Beech. From the Buffalo Express. There are some of our best native trees wich seem to be systematically igncred in park and lawn planting. One is the beech, than which there is no better or mere beautiful lawn tree. The branches are long and graceful; the leaves have a peculiarly bright color; the buds are long, pointed and polished, and the bark of thé trunk and larger limbs lights up the shade of the thick foliage in dark days, and shines in the winter with a pinkish light under clear skies. It requires a good deal of room to develop its greatest beauty, but thrives on most soil, and is not sub- ject to attacks of insects. We plant its forcien relative, the copper beech, solely for the color of its leaves, and our native, handsomer tree Is utterly neglected. Fo a small lawn tree there is no better than the near relative of our common beech. It is generally called “blue beech” or “iron wood,” and makes a nice-shaped tree ten or fifteen feet high. It is far better than the mountain ash or horse chestnut, both foreign trees, and very Mable to attacks of insects. As far as ordinary observation goes no leaf-cutting insect troubles the blue beech. The leaves are smaller and darker in color than those of the common beech, but in shape and veining are sim- [THE JOHN NAWY: MANUSCRIPTS ude a BY CHARLES W. HARWOOD. -—_+1__ (Copyright, 1896, byg.‘s. McClure Co.) Kepler Paine had swyng his chair around facing his guests, but his hand still rest- ed affectionately on atopy of the Maxima, which lay oper upon jHs desk. There v an air of entire faction on Paine’s face. The Maxima waa just out that day, and it contained a#wtory which he had written a year beféré-the first of his stories which that fhagazine had deigned to accept. am oe - Jack Hall was lytng: upon the tounge with a pipe'in his *fnouth, and Frarle had just entered the room. A thin-faced, rk-complexioned. map was Fra: al- Ways cool, self-possessed and critical. With a quiet but friendly greeting he sat down and helped himself to a cigarette from Paine’s box, Frarie wrete the book reviews for the Polygon. “I looked over your story in the ad- vance sheets," he remarked, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “I gave you three lines. There are good points about that sto-y, Paine. Your burglar is undeniably stro: !” exclaimed Jack Hall. “I call ‘John Navy's Confession’ the best thing out this year!” Hall was an artist—not a literary man. “Yes, there are some things in it which are really bright,” Frarie admitted. ‘They have character. Ten to one you picked them up somewhere, Paine.” ‘There 18 a story about that, Frarie. John Navy was an actual burglar whom 1 used to know when I lived in Bolton.” “I thought as much,” said Frarie, with satisfaction, Hall sprang up and went to the table to shake out his pipe and refill it. “Kep, I've heard just enough about that old burglar to make me curious,” he said, abruptly. “How did you get acquainted with your interesting friend?” “Tell us about it if you don’t min add- “You may have heard of the Penniwell Bank robbery which occurred about seven years ago,”’ Paine began. “The Navy gang made that break. Its leader, old John Navy, was the most audacious burglar of his day. Hie skill and bcldness had drawn around him a picked lot of clever crim- irals, stanch men, all of them, and adepts at their calling. “We, in Maine, had heard little about their operations until they visited the town of Penniwell, a dozen miles from Bolton, and broke into the vaults of its bank. They had secured most of the money when an alarm was raised and they were compelled to fly. All of them escaped except Navy. Laden, as he was, with the bulk of the spoils, he nearly elud- ed his pursuers by running to cover in the ravines of Colquitt mountain. There, be- fore he was brought to bay, he safely con- cealed his plunder; and, to this day, it has never been found.” “Of cours Fratie. “Certainly. The Penriwell money ts as seductive to the people of that vicinity as Capt. Kidd's gold, and even now trey will not allow a stranger to get upon the moun- » & reward was offered?” said Notes Kept Pace tain side alone. It w useless to question Navy. He was true to his associates as long as he lived, and unusu ations were en to prevent his sending them any message.” “How did you come to know him?" “I used to do s aritable work at that time—es where he w pect: y the Bolton pri confined, “Did you reform any criminals?” Jack Hall skeptically inquired. “Come, Hall, let him alone!” Frarie in- terposed. “We want to hear about the burglar.” “I had been in and out for months be- fcre I saw Navy; but at last the warden gained confidence in my discretion, and, after an explicit warning, volunteered to take me to the convict’s cell. “‘Navy is a crafty old fellow,’ he ad- monished me. ‘Don’t repeat a word that he sa He will try to use you when you least suspect It. “We found the pris r sitting by the door, with his grizzled head resting upon his hands. Weary, dogged endurance was graven in every line of his face. He bright- ened upon our entrance, and, with a slight twinkle of the eyes, looked me over humor- ously. By that one glance he had probed my inexperience, and, after the warden's departure, he warily tested his conclusions. “This is very kind,’ he began, smoothly. ‘It is pleasant to meet a gentleman of your cloth. I suppose you would like me to re- pent of my evil ways?’ “I had not thought of it,’ I answered, curtly. ‘Weuld you prefer to see a clergy- man? “Navy turned quickly upon me. ‘I thought you were one of them!’ he exclaimed. “Not at all. I came here with merely a human interest in you.” “Surprised as he was, Navy quickly re- covered his poise. ‘Now, I call that kind!’ he said, with a touch of feeling. ‘Just because I’m a human being that’s lonely and needs company. That does me: good. If I wasn’t wearing these stripes I°d offer you my hand on that!" “Of course, he made no motion to do so, but I promptly put cut my hand. “Thank you,’ he said, giving it a firm clasp. ‘It seems good to meet a gentleman again ee t¥ou have a few visitors,’ I suggested. “You are the first outsider, excepting the Penniwell people. There's the chaplain; he wants me to be sorry for my sins—Lord, I'm no hypocrite!’ he broke out, scornfully. ‘Cracking safes is my profession, and if I was free I'd be at it again. I've talked some with the warden, but he hasn't a particle of sympathy with my feelings. He only shakes his head and ‘says: “Ah, John, we ought to have caught you long ago!” Now I call that a kind of wet blanket on a man’s professional enthusiasm, don’t you?’ “{ smiled and aksented readily—he was such a fascinating td siriner. “So you are driveh back upon your mem- ories? I remarkeay 19 “That's just it!.< Ahd comforting they are, too. You would be‘surprised to know of the fortunes I'vetmade. Well, everything 1s gone now, and I'm laid on the shelf, but it's a great consolationsto look back on a successful career. ‘Whéh I get blue, sitting here alone, I hark hack 40 some time when I outwitted the officers,and it heartens me erfully.” oes wenhen ne pausede a moment. ‘I wonder if you would be interested to hear of such matters?’ he askedpvloubtfully. “ ‘Indeed, I would!’ was my instant re- sponse. ‘Do you mihd if I use this? Some- times I write storieg forithe magazines.’ “Navy was interesteat once. “How do you make out rhe asked critically. “Poorly enough;so' far.’ “Lord, what you needs life! he declared. ‘Why, I could give you stories to write until your hair is gray!" yee Nothing Gould please me better," said I. “Will you put in my own name? he asked, eagerly. 5 “Certainly, if you wish me to.” “Navy seemed gratified. I well remember the delightful animation with which he be- gan a story of one of his earlier escar I wrote It out carefully, and, after often visited him, quite as much fer my cwn advantage as for his. “Meanwhile my notes kept pace with his sterics, and Navy shoved the utm-st terest In them. That a man of Fis sto--p should be so concerned, I laid to the kill'ng monotony of prison life, but at last I @ covered that he was brooding cver 77-e scheme which he was half-ashamed te pro- pose. One day I frank!y inquired what was on his mind. “‘T’'ve got a notion that Td Like to write out one of my stories myself,’ he confessed, w:th scme d:ffidence. ‘It’s all folly, maybe, but it would do me good to try.’ “It did “seem droll, but he was such a genial, open-hearted old fellow that it would have been cruel not to humor him. On my next visit we carried out his pro- Ject, and never had I seen him so cheerful and happy as when he handed me his com- pleted manuscript. “It would do me good to have that pub- lished,’ he said, smiling upon me with open kindliness. ‘You may find mistakes in it; but don’t make ary changes. Let it go, title and all, just as it is. You see, it is my own work! “That was my last meeting with Joan Navy. I carried his story home 2nd read it, but I saw that it would be quite useless for publication unless some journal would take it as news. Yet, with all its faults there were certain novel expressions scat- tered through it which could hardly be im- proved. “In order to preserve these bits, I copied the whole manuscript for my own benefit. It was short—a matter of two columns only —and I was on the point of sending it to one of the New York dailies when I re- membered my promise to the warden. the story seemed perfectly harmless. Still, there was my promise; and, after scme indecision about suppressing the manuscript entirely, I felt that I must give it up. The warden listened rather trium- phantly.to my explanation. “I told you Navy would try to use you,’ he said, gruffy. ‘We will keep a strict watch after this.’ “He ran over the story hastily and with evident disay-pointment. ““Pshaw! there’s nothing about the Pen- niwell case here!’ he exclaimed. “This affair happened a dozen years ago! Navy is conceited. He wants to keep his name before the profession.’ “I remarked that the story was fairly well told. “Oh, yes, he is smart enough, and would be-a dengerous fellow at large. It’s lucky for the whole country that we have him behind the bars. As for this stuff, it doesn’t really «mount to anything, but we can’t let it go out while the man lives. Thanks to you just the same.’ ” “That was rather hard on the ambitious old codger,” observed Hall. “All you could do, nevertheless,” Frarie. “It seemed so to me,” Paine continued. “Yet I felt mean about it and d!d not visit the prison again. This fell cut the more naturally, because matters of business were ceccupying my time, and within a fortnight I had removed from Bolton tc this city.” “Where is your copy of Navy's story, Kep.?” asked Jack Hall. “It is still at my old home. I culled out what I wanted, to go with my other notes. ‘There were some parts which did not seem so bright on a second reading.” Frarie arose, and, flicking away a par- ticle of cigarette ash, took up his hat. “There may be a call for more of Navy's adventures,” he said. “I advise you not to kill off the old man until you have ex- hausted your material. By the way, I in- ferred that he was dead. Is that so?” “He died in prison more than a year ago. Not until then did I feel at liberty to write rim up.” “Well, good-night. Come on, Hall.” ‘On the afternoon of the next day, waile Paine was busy at his desk, a stranger was skown to his room by the landlady. Paine whirled his chair around and rose to greet him. The stranger shct a quick, penetrating glance at his host and bowed with mingled deference and assurance. He was cressed expensively, and a slight swagger in his said With His Storie: hearing indicated that he was conscious of bringing his welcome in itis pock rting man,” thought Paine. he want of me?” re you Mr. Kepler Paine? -comer, with much suavit ou wrote ‘Joha h has just appear’ I did,” Paine answered, wi ‘Take a chai: h a smile. Have you read Tye read it,” said the man, emphatical- “Best thing I ever read. I got cnto it Excuse me—1 forgot to It's Perkins of Chi. ly. from that name. mention my own. I should have been sor of yours. No us the rest of “The rest of it?” Paine repeated, in be- wilderment. “The story is complete in this number of the Maxima.” Then he realized that the public was thirsting for his work. iJ can write more tales of the same sort, if that is what you mean. “About this same Jchn Navy?” Certainly.” “That's just what I mean! That story reads like the truth,” said Perkins, weigh- ing his words carefully. “You must have known somebody just like him.” He locked are you g On the Afternoon of the N t Day, While Paine Wax at H Was Shown into ————————— fer,” sald Pa'ne, with instant shrewdness. “Of course I shal! expect an advance on what the Maxima paid me.” “That's — Perkins replied. “I don’t know t those fellows paid you, but it’s worth more to me than it is to them. How would $500 strike you?” “Dene!” cried Paine. “You shall have the best stery 1 can write. Five thousand words?” he asked, in the next breath. “I don’t care about the number of words,” said the man, with a touch of im- Patience. “It's Navy’s talk that brings the dollars. Can I have it now?” “Oh, no!” said Paine, in surprise. “It isn't written yet! When must you have the story “Thought you had it all in your head!” exclaimed Perkins, darting e glint of sus- picion at the author. “Well, you know your business. Make it short, though. How Icng—a week?” ou can have it in a week.” “All right. In a week you shall have your $500." And Perkins bowed h!mself out, well contented. Meeting Frarie upon the street at a later hour, Paine gayly accosted him, with out- stretched hand. “Shake, old man!” he cried. “I have beunded into the ranks of the high-priced story tellers.” “How Is that, Paine?” he queried. “Have you hypnotized an editor?” “Syndicate man, I think. I was too much surprised to ask for particulars. It doesn’t matter. Perk'ns of Chicago wants to pay Me $500 for a story.” “Long life to Perkins of Chicago. I don’t recall his name; but I am heartily pleased at your success, Paine.” When Perkins reappeared, at the appoint- ed time, he glanced over the first few pages of the manuscript with great satisfaction, and counted out $500 in payment. “I hope this will be a success,” the au- thor civilly remarked. “I have made it as dramatic as possible, remembering your in- terest in Navy’s conversation.” “It’s a sure success!” Perkins answered in high elation. “Good evening.” He shook hands effusively with Paine and immediately took his departure. Paine’s sleeping room adjoined his study, and the door between these apartments was kept closed at night. When he opened it the next morning on his way down to breakfast he uttered a sharp cry of dis- may and sprang forward into the room ex- citedly. During the night his desk had been ran- &-cked and its contents strewn over the floor. Paine made a hurried search throu; beth rooms, but nothing else—not even his watch and money—had been disturbed. Moreover, when he had carefully rearrang- ed his disordered papers they were all ac- counted for, with this exception—every scrap of writing which related to John Navy had been stolen! Early that afternoon Perkins returned. He appeared depressed and discon: ‘ted, aa his changed mien excited Paine’s wou- le “Did you like my story he asked. res, it is a good story,” Perkins slowly responded. “It is something of an advance on the other. Still, I don’t find that it con- tains all I expected.” “Why, what did you want?” (Paine was on his mettle now.) “You would hardly ex- pect a three-volume novel for the price you offered “I d-dn’t bid high enough, that’s a fact,” the publisher confessed. “But I want the rest of it—badly. I am thimking of making you a big offer for all you know about Navy. “In others? “Oh, any way you lke—yes!” Perkins got up and walked the floor impatiently. “I can’t explain! It’s this way: You have what I want, and if I can make a deal with you we won't dicker about the price. Now, what can you do for me?” “I can supply the demand,” said Paine, confidently. “But you must give me time for this. Unfortunately, all my notes were stolen iast night.” “That was all you knew about Navy asked Perkins, hopelessly. “Everything I had. Stay!—there Is Navy's cwn story; but I have already dipped into that for a few of his peculiar ideas.” Navy's own story!” the publisher echoed, in strong excitement. “What's that?” Paine made a brief explanation, and up- on learning the fate of this story Perkins Grew a long breath as if tantalized almost beyond endurance. series of short stories like the - ou say that you copied it,” he ex- claimed, witn a gleam of hope. “Where's the copy?” value to you.” ngely enough, the publisher's eager- S was quickly allayed by this reply. “We will let the matter rest awhile,” he decided, after a moment of abstraction; and then quietly withdrew. A few days afterward Paine received a letter and a paper addressed in his mother's handwriting. With a pleasant anticipation of home news, he opened the letter, but its first paragraph drew from kim a cry of surprise. His old home had also been en- tered by a burglar. It was a matter of slight importance, but, in the light of his own recent experience, it ws sufficiently disturb:ng. Further details made it very clear‘ that both of these trivial robberies had been committed by the same mysterious person. As in the former case, nothing of value had been stolen; but the contents of an old trunk had been found scattered over the attic floor. “I send you the Gazette, which has just arrived,” Mrs. Paine wrote, in conclusion. “I see that the Penniwell money has been recovered, and that one of the burglars is in custody. Possibly this is the man who entered our horse.” A sudden light broke in upon Paine's mind. There was but cne man who knew of the papers in his trunk—one man who had shown an insatiate curiosity about John Navy. Snatching up the Gazette, he quickly ran over its prolix account of the arrest. The last paragraph was especially inter- esting to Kepler Paine. “The prisoner registered at House as Perkins of Chicago. the Union His connec- inquiringly at Paine. “I did. I knew old John Navy himself.” “Where?” Perkins asked, eagerly ging your pardon! I didn’t mean— “Oh, it 1s no secret. He was a convict in the Bolten prison. I used. to visit him there—in the course of some charitable work which I did.” With some reluctance Paine added this last explanation, which he considered a de- tall of no possible interest to a stranger. Yet his words made a marked impression upon Perkins. “You were good to him, then?” he ask- ed, respectfu!ly. “TI liked the man; couldn’t help liking him.” “No wonder! John Navy—according to your story--was @ square, open-hearted man. It didn’t harm you any to befriend him. You had a rare chance, young man! I suppose he talked pretty freely?” “He told me a great deal about Paine admitted, a trifle mystified questions. “I wrote it all down,” at length. his life,” by these he added Again an eager light flashed In the visi- tor’s eyes. “Desk’s ful! of it, I suppose,” he observed casually. “My head is full of it,” Paine rejoined. “Yes, of course I have my notes.” Silence ensued for a few moments, “I was amused at some parts of that story,” Perkins went on, still dallying with his crrand. ‘The old man said some queer things.” “He used other expressions quite as pe- cullar as those in my story.” “And you remember them all?" asked Perkins, coming sharply to business. “What's your price for the rest of it?” Paine was taken ware. “So you are @ publisher!” he exclaimed, “A publisher?—Yes, of course; you've hit it.” Perkins laughed lightly. “If you want my work make me an of- tion with the Navy gang has been clearly established, and it appears that he discoy- ered the long-hidden booty by means of a cipher messa em his old chief. Part of this cipher was contained in certain oly- Scure phrases of a story entitled ‘John Navy's Confession, which w. Published in the Maxtma.” ““* Tecently CHARLES W. HARWOOD. See ens " ‘Tsetse Fly Disease. From the New York World. Surgeon Gencral David Bruce of the Eng- lsh army has recently made a report on the tsetse fly disease, called “nangna” by the natives of Zululand. The disease at- tacks horses, dogs, monkeys and cattle. It is always fatal, except to cattle, and few of them recover from the attack. The disease is characterized by a fever, a rapid de- struction of the red blood corpuscles, ex- treme emaciation, and a swelling of the neck, abdomen and extremities. Dr. Bruce spent some time in Africa and made many exper'ments with the tsetse fly. He found that the disease did not neces. sarily follow the bite of the fly, and never aid result from such bites unless the fly had previously bitten a diseased animal. He concluded that the fly serves merely as @ means whereby the virus from an in- fected animal ‘could be tommunicated to one that was healthy. Microscopical examinations of the blood of diseased animals show the presence of minute animalcuiae, which, when injected inte the blood of a healthy animal, cavsed the disease. Having arrived at this point in studying the disease, it is possible that science will soon discover a remedy thi! will prove efficacious, ART IN THE CAMPAIGN Order. Lightning Work by Brush Sw! =erm, Who Are Expert in This Particular Line. Already the campaign banner is swinging mid-air across the avenues and adorning the various political headquarters. Very few peonle, as they gaze on these works of art, have any idea of their manufacture, simply knowing that they appear after the selection of the candidates for presidential honors. and associating them with fire- works, brass bancs and oratory. The making of campaign banners is, how- ever, an extensive bus! several firms devoting themselves exclusi manufacture. It is true that bar sometimes gotten up by sign pa’ the small shops that spring up for the oc- czsion, but they are not to be classed with the banners turned out by the regular fac- tories, A visit to one of these establish- ments reveals sorre interesting facts. On the cheap banners only the names and sentiments of the candidates appear, but the large and costly ones have the por- traits of both nominees painted in ovale, separated by fanciful designs. Shields, eagles and figures of Liberty are the most popular. The emblems are wonderfully and fearfully gotten up, the eagle performing feats that would tax a contortionist, airily balanced on a shield, his talons filled with enormous bundles of arrows, a pennant expressing his political opinions floating gracefully from his beak; or with a shield suspended from his neck ‘he takes his wild flight across the rising sun. The Goddess ot Liberty and other designs are executed in an equally striking manner. Takes Three to Make It. The first-class campaign banner is the product of the combined efforts of three men—the portrait painter, the sign painter and the sailmaker. In making the banner the work is divided up. The painting, ‘hich is done on sized muslin, may be ac- complished in two ways. If the man is an expert, he takes a large circle of pas-e- beard, having the features cut out, and traces the general outline and size of the head, using a photograph to finish the por- trait from. But the usual method is by the use of stencils, each stencil being for a different color. The large pieces of muslin, tacked or boards, are ranged in a row around the room, and men with pots of paint pass from one to the other with great rapidity. Painter No. 1 lays in the hair, No. fol- lows with the flesh tint, No. pucs on the shirt and collar, and No. 4 the coat: thus the foundation is laid in for the artist, who comes along with his huge palette and completes the portrait. Patriotic Sentimen: Meanwhile, the sign painters, perched on Stools and boxes, are putting on long strips of muslin “The People's Choice” and other equally flattering sentiments. The sail- makers cut a roll of square meshed net in- to the different banner sizes, binding them with a thick rope covered with canvas. No stencils are used for the embleme, they are spontaneous bursts of the artist’ imagination. He can indulge his taste in eagles as fierce and warlike as he ases, and Liberties as defiant. This is not all. A banner once painted is not a loss, even if it remains on the firm's hands As the artist remarked, “putting on or ta‘ ng off a mustache or beard, rearranging hair, an extra touch of fat or lean as the ¢ re- quires is a small matter, accomplished by @ few strokes of the brush.” The sign painter is equally handy at altering the po- litical mortoes. The banner takes some days te a week to finish. A section is pl dry, and ed paint downward on the ficor and the net put over it. The same design is ar don top, and the r, sitting on the floor, sailor fashion, sews it all tc Then the banner is ready to be raised with cheers and a flare of red fire. A Dressy Cow. From the Philadelphia Bolletin, There is a man in Germantown who has a great affection for animals. He believes in making life just as easy for them as ble. bis gentleman has a cow which gives @ generous quantity of rich milk, and has done the same for several ye: Every day she is turned out on the lawn of his plece to feed on the succulent grass there. The recent hot weather has brovght a ercat many flies with it, and these files, as is the habit with such pests, took par- ticular delight in settling on the cow in cloud: The owner of the cow, a few days ago, observed the trouble in which it . and decided something must be done to re- lieve the animal of the pesis. All at once a bright idea came to him, and he went into consultation with his wife. The re- sult was a strange animal uppeared on the lown the following morning. The legs were as big as those of an ele- phant, and were striped red and wh color. The rest of its body was a brownish red. Its head bore horns and it chewed the cud. Those were the only points of resemblance it bore to a cow. The flies missed their one-time victim and at first they didn’t knew what to do. Then they made a common descent on the legs of this strange new beast. They bit for all they were worth, but the object of their attack didn’t seem to mind this. It went on complacently browsing upon the grass. It didn’t even take the trouble to whisk its tail about. And the new animal? Well, it has been laughing to itself so constantly since then that it is growing fat at the rate of ten pounds a day, for it is a cow. In fact, the very cow which the flies enjoyed feasting vpon so much a short time ago. Her transformation is all the result of two pairs of pajamas or psntaloons, which its owrer’s wife made out of calico, and which are put on her fore and hind legs e: 2Ye and fastened in place by bands passed over her back. ———_-+e-+-_ Ballets Wear Out Rifles. From the New York San, There ts one thing which users of the new high velocity of 30-caliber have to consider, and that is the effect of the cop- per or nickel jacket on the grooves of the rifle. A bullet that leaves the muzzle of a rifle at a velocity of 2,000 feet a second is so wearing on the rifling, especially near the muzzle, that the accuracy of even the hardest-pored rifles is seriously impaired inside of 12,000 shots at the most. The lead bullets, or those but slightly hardened with a mixture of tin, do not wear the har- rels to the same extent, and the barrels lest far longer. s0- Interrupted Courtexstes, From the Fiiezende Blatter,