Evening Star Newspaper, October 10, 1896, Page 14

/ THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1896-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. “Chestnuts will be very scarce this season, after all, though the supply promised was very large,” observed a farmer. “The trees were loaded with them until the storm, which whipped them off rather suddenly. The result is that the trees are bare and the ground surrounding them is covered with the imperfect nuts, which have to be left to rot. The chestnuts in the ordinary way would not be fully ripe for a couple of weeks, so it is not safe to eat them. To thoroughly season a chestnut a frost is ac- tually necessary. When the frost comes theres will be no chestnuts this year. The supply, therefore, will have to be brought here from other sections of the country, places where the storm did not whip the huts from the trees.” ** 8 * “One of the smartest things that the Cuban repubiic, that fs to be, did was to issue postage stamps,” remarked a State Department official. “Of course, these stamps will not be used on letters for some time yet. Those who bought the stamps, however, are not so anxious in that direc- tion. The great majority of persons bought the stamps because they could contribute in this small way to help on a good work. There about 6,000 stamp collectors in this country, and hardly any telling how many there are throughout the world. Well, word went out that the new series of Cuban re- public stamps were out, and immediateiy came orders for the stamp: “The full set costs 6) cents, and the great majority of stamp collectors had to get the full set, though the more modest collectors had to content themselves with an incom- Plete set. The receipts from this source must have been very large. Of course, <he idea is that the money which was raised was and is being used in helping to make Cuba free.” eee Ke “I had a peculiar experience down at the Marlboro’ fair last week,” volunteered a prominent temperance agitator and orator. “I was the guest of a Quaker family, who drove me over to the fair grounds from their elegant home, several miles distant. ‘The fair management is somewhat new, but in a couple of years it will know much more than it does now. It is ahead of some other Maryland fairs, notably the Rockville fair, in that a sufficient supply of ice water was provided and tin cups also. With the others I took several drinks of ice water during the day. “Just as we were eating lunch the aged mother of the gentleman of whom I was the guest, remarked to me: ‘I am sorry, friend, that thy statements are not true. Thee told me that thee did not drink liquor Thy breath now smells of it.’ This was a knock-down argument for me, and, though I was perfectly innocent of the charge, I felt that there was no way by which I could regain the confidence of the lady. Luck and circumstances saved me, for in a moment she observed to her daughter, ‘Ruth, thy breath smells of liquor, too.” Ex- as followed and all was again well. ‘3 that some of the gentlemen of Marlboro’ or the adjoining country had drunk their whisky from the tin cups that were attached to the barrels containing the ice w and that the liquor being of that very strong and pungent grade which some of the people of lower Maryland so devoted- ly love, it flavored the tin cups with its abundant bouquet. Had it not been that the young lady had drunk from the same cup that I did all my reputation for temperance would have gone for naught, for all the cir- cumstances were dead against me.” * * *£ € * “Yes, the bicycle cold is a distinct dis- ease, and one that frequently comes to us fer treatment as the cool nights come along,” remarked a physician. “There is nothing wonderful or unusual about the bicycle cold. It is not different from any ofher annoying colds in the head, and ts atout as slow and unsatisfactory in its cure. These bicycle ladies and men, with- out kno-wing it, very often, during their long runs at night, get themselves into a perspiration, and allow themselves to cool off too suddenly. They thereby catch a beautiful cold, and one of those colds that take longer to get rid of than it does to catch it, too. It is, however, very fashion- able, and some seem to be actually proud of it.” ** ee OK “To western men, and especially those of the Pacific states,” said Judge Henry L. Harmon of California. “‘a visit to Washing- ton means, among other things, a royal repast of oysters. It is generally under- stood that Baltimore leads ail the cities on this coast as far as packing oysters is cor- cerned. Certain is it that the best-packed oysters that come to California are put up there. By the same understanding Wash- ington Is put down as the best place for getting cooked oysters on this earth. There is no other city in it with Washington. The people here seem to have forgotten that Washingten is the birthplace of the steamed oyster, as well as the home there- of, for here it was that the first oyster was steamed. In several of the oyster saloons in San Francisco there are large signs, ‘Oysters Cooked Washington Style.’ “They not only cook the bivalve in Wash- ington style, but the cooks are colored men and women who were born, raised and learned to cook oysters in Washington. Among western men, and the sathe idea prevails in other sections, there is a strong belief that the colored people are the natural cooks of the oyster. The French chefs are nowhere in comparison with the colored cooks as far as the oyster is con- cerned. And the French chef seems to know it.” xe ek *E * “There are some customs in this elty that are admirable.” remarked an Arkansas official, “but there are other customs that the city should adopt. For instance: I have gone into several bar rooms here and purchased goods. In each case, for I have not been feeling very pert recently, I asked the barkeep to put a little quinine in it. They have all informed me that quinine is not in their line, and referred me to the drug stores. Now, in Kansas, Arkansas, EARD Wisconsin and several other states that I know of drinking bars all have a glass of dry quinine with a spoon, and, ns the cus- tomer drinks the goods he orders, hé can spoon out just as much quinine as he thinks he needs. “In Arkansas at this season of the year a half teaspoonful of quinine is a hand- some thing to mix with your bar room goods. It gives the world a brighter look. In Wisconsin quinine is universally used for colds. It is rather strange for me to have to buy quinine in a drug store, for all my life I have got it in the bar rooms.” : * * ee x ‘I was glad to observe that the chiefs of the various department bureaus,” said a well-known official, “took a sensible view of the storm of last week and did not take any notice of the time that the clerks reported for work on the morning follow- ing. This is as it should be. It is an emer- gency case, pure and simple. If clerks, and especially those who have to depend on suburban steam or trolley systems, ever had an excuse for being a few min- utes late it was on that occasion. Lots of them hurried on to their offices, though they had to leave roofless houses. As far as I can learn no one was complained of for being late. It would be rather tough on @ man or woman clerk to blame them for being tardy on a morning after such a terrible storm.” x ee Ke * ‘One of the most important cases is down for decision on Monday next, when the United States Supreme Court reassem- bles for the fall term,” said a prominent member of the Supreme Court bar. “It is the California irrigation case which ex- President Harrison argued in March last. The case involves the constitutionality what is known as the Wright irrigation act. On this act bonds were issued by various corporations and syndicates en- gaged in frrigating immense tracts of lands, amotnting to over $6,000,000 in the aggregate. As far as actual money 1s conceraed it is the most important case which has been before the court for many years. “The lower United States court held that the irrigation bonds were unconstitutional and down they dropped in price, until they were seldom quoted by any one. The state employed the lawyers to defend the con- stitutionall:y of the bonds, for unless irri- gation can be carried on by this means California cannot be regarded for many years more as an agricultural state. With irrigation it enters into a future brighter than its brightest geld prospects at any time. Gen. Harrison was paid $10,000 for his argument the day he completed it. The court found itself terribly mixed up when it tried to arrive at a decision last spring. One of the justices said there were ‘no two and hardly one of the same opinion.” It mey be that they are in the same fix yet. The stock gamblers of San Fran- cisco, New York and Chicago, on informa- tion or pointers from Washington, have been mak a number of deals in the bonds recer There will be fortunes made and lost cn the decision.” x * KK * “Parents will find that an occasional visit to the public schools will be of a vantage to them, and to their children,” said an experienced teacher. “While the teacher rarely cares for a visit from par- ents for the sake of the visit itself, they are—especially the conscientious teachers— very anxious to meet parents at the be- sinning of the school year. By having a proper understanding between parents and teachers the work of the pupil is lessened. The system that now prevails in the schools is not that which obtaine1 when the average parent of today went to school Whether there has been improvement or not, there certainly has been a change. “Parents can only learn of these changes by giving a ,iltle time to the matter. Noth- ing is more annoying to the average ieach- er than growls from paren’s, or vislts made for the purpose of growling, and that only. On the other hand nothing is more agree- able to a teacher than the krowledge that the parent appreciates the work that is being done in educating their children. While I do not approve of frequent visits, I really think that parents should visit the schools attended by their children at least once in each three months. There are some teachers who have as many as forty pupils in their class who are not favored by one parental visit during the entire school term. This may sound strange, but I am sorry to say it is true and is a matter of record.” xe RK * “It's an evil wind that blows no good,” is an adage much appreciated by the manu- facturers of stogies and cheroots during the past three years, while hard times have been prevalent throughout the coun- try. A cigar dealer, commenting on this tendency of good to come to some people from every misfortune, sald to a Star re- porter today: “Previous to three years ago I seldom sold anything in the ferm of a cigar for less than 5 cents. I handled but one brand of cheroots for the accommodation of a very emall part of my trade. Since the country has suffered from dull times there has been a great change. Thousands of people have had their incomes curtailed and find it difficult to break off the tobacco habit. They like good cigars, but rather than have none at all they smoke cheap ones, and tobacco is now so cheap that a fair smoke can be gotten for very little money. The result is that manufacturers of stogies and cheroots are reaping such a harvest as they have never known in this country. New brends are constantly com- ing out and the factories are being ex- tended to supply the demand. Hard times are good times for these branches of trade.” xe KOK K “When I was out west last summer,”” said Chief Clerk Doyle of the civil serv- ice commission, “I visited a post office up in Minnesota and came across the most remarkable case I have ever discovered. The post office was isolated and but little reading material found its way there. The postmaster was an old settler, who had held his place many years. I found him reading a copy of the Congressional Rec- ord so intently one day that I remarked that he seemed exceedingly fond of poli- tics. The old man looked up and said: “Young man, I have never failed to read the Congressional Record every day of my life for twenty-eight yeafs, that ts, every day during the sessions of Congress. I began doing this shortly after the war and have kept it up since.’ Jin tl aie! iP “"Cause you dassent Voice from barrel (in whisper)—“Make it a objick for him to come acrost; tell im you can lick him with yer little finger!”—Life. “You dassent come over on this side of the street, so you dassent!” Voice from over the way—“Why dassent I?’ EEN? . HAD (KEPT HIS WORD. The Familiar Voice Once More Heard in the Gomposing Room, The talk had turned to the supernatural, and a man who'has been the foreman of a newspaper coniposing room for a good many years dewn in Virginia told the fol- lowing story in the presence >f-a Star re- porter: “Theré lised to be a young fellow by the name cf’ Blank, who worked at a case in — office. He was a nimble type- setter, and a very nice kind of boy. But he would wander about the country. That, you know, is’a ‘characteristic of the type- setting fraternity. I never lik2d the habit, and never indulged in it to any consider- able extent myself, I told nim one day that he would come to a bad end. “tf ever ‘am in trouble I will call on you, Frank,’ he replied generally. “Well, one day-he came to me and throw- ing his stick on the composing stone said that he was going to leave the office and 80 to Norfolk. I tried to dissuade him, but all to no purpose. He was a headstrong fellow, and that settied it. About a week later I was busy at the forms getting the inside pages ready to send to the cellar. The clock in the city hall had just struck midnight. Suddenly I heard my name call- ed. I thought it was one of the boys in the office who was calling, and I made no immediate reply. Again I’ heard some one cali in a very distinct voice. This time I recognized it as Blank’s voice. “Blank is out in the street, and he is calling you, Frank,” said one of the com- positors. “I walked over to the front window, threw up the sash and peered out. The street was silent and deserted. Not a liv- ing thing was to ba seen. erat do you want, Blank?’ I called out. “There was no reply. I shut the window and went back to the page which I had been making up. “I thought that I heard Blank’s voice,’ I said to my assistant. “‘So you did,’ he replied; ‘we all heard him call.’ “And so they had, The next day a tele- gram reached the office saying that Blank had been run over and killed by a train near Norfolk about midnight. Blank had kept his word. He called on me when he was in trouble. He probably died calling for me.” ‘ BOWSER AND THE WHEEL ‘Written for The Evening Star by M. Quad. ‘The Bowsers were eating their noon- day meal on their summer farm when a wagon stopped at the gate and a bicycle was handed down and left in the yard. “I thought,” began Mrs. Bowser—‘I thought you—you—” “You thought I had given it up,” he in- terrupted. ‘Two or three months ago I ex- perimented a little with the wheel. I fell in love with it, but didn’t care to buy one just then. I am now going to experiment some more. In fact, I expect to become a crack rider within a week.” “You—you become a crack rider?” ‘And why not? What’s the matter with me?” “When you tried the bike before you jous for an hour and in bed You didn’t seem to—to—” “Didn't seem to what?’ he shouted, as he shoved back from the table. “If I didn’t quite get the hang of the thing it'wasn’t my fault. No one can ride a bike right off. I've got the best kind of a chance to learn and propose to take advantage of it. I ex- pect a fall or two, but what of it? What I want Is to harden this flesh down, and all doctors agree that there’s nothing like bi- cycle riding to do it. In two weeks I'll be kicking up my heels like a boy.” “I—I wish you'd give up the idea,” said Mrs. Bowser, certain in her own mind that a tragedy would follow any experiment on his part. “That's just like you!’ he growled. “If I get « plan to take a little comfort you are always ready to head me off! I have sent to town for a bike. It is here. I propose to learn to ride it, and shall begin in ten minutes. There is no more to be said.” Twenty minutes later Mr. Bowser had the machin> out on the highway. He peeled off his coat and vest, tied strings around the bottom of his trousers and had an air of confidence about him which consider- ably puzzled Mrs. Bowser. “You are not going to jump right on, are you?” she asked, as he moistened’ his hands. “You bet I am!" he replied. “All the trouble with new beginners is being afraid of the machine. I'm going right into that saddle as if I had been there a thousand times before, and if you see a cloud of dust zipping down the road you can hold on to your hat with both hands. Here I go!” He went. He put his foot on the step and made two hops and a jump, and Mrs. Bow- ser saw a cloud of dust. It didn’t go zip- ping down the road, however, but remained right there at her feet. It was a cloud raised by Mr. Bowser as the machine buck- ed him off and then fell upon him, and it was three or four minutes before he got up with red face and flashing eyes, and said— “I didn’t expect to get the hang of it the first time, you know, but I'll get there or die. Did it go down all of a sudden with me?” “Very sudden.” “I guess I didn’t find the pedals quick enough. Stand back a little and give me a show. Now, there’s my foot, and here’s two hops, and—and—” Mr. Bowser didn’t reach the saddle. There was a wild hope in his heart that he would, but he rose just high enough to fall for- ward, face downward, and with a wild wab- ble the machine rolied him into the wayside ditch and fell beside him. “You didn’t do it,” said Mrs. Bowser, as she advanced to help him up “Who kicked that hind wheel? he de- manded, as he sat up and combed the dirt and grass out of his hair. “No one. I wasn’t within twenty feet of you. You'd better let me hold the wheel while you get on.” “Never—never! I've set out to get on that wheel by myself, and by the chin of my grandmother, I'll do it or perish right here.” “Mr. Bowser, you know you have short legs and are naturally clumsy, and you ought to give yourself a chance. “Short legs! Clumsy!" he shouted, as he struggled up. “Woman, get out of the road—get inside the gate! You are hoping for me to k>ep on falling, and perhaps break my neck, but you'll be disappointed. You just keep inside that gate till you're called upon to interfere.” Then Mr. Bowser examined the wheels. They were all there. He took a long look at the handle bar, but discovered nothing wrong with it. The pedals seemed to have been hung on at the right place, and he could find no fault with the saddle. Mrs. Bowser stood watching him over the gate, but he pretended to be oblivious of her presence, and drew a long breath and made ready for another try at it. It suddenly oc- curred to himn that he didn’t get in hops enough, and so he started out on a new plan, With his foot on the step he began hopping and humping. His idea was to get a good headway and then rise like a bird, but at the fifth hop the machine took a shoot into the ditch, and there was another wrestiing match, in which it came out on top. “You see, you can’t do it,” said Mrs. Bowser, as she went out and pulled the wheel off him. “You don’t seem to hold the wheel right, and you hop on the sole of your foot. If I were you, I'd wait till we get back to town, and then I'a—” Mr. Bowser arose and pointed to the open gate, and so strorg was his emotion that it was a full half minute before he could say: “Am I running this business, or are you? When I don’t know enough to get on to a bicycle perhaps I'll call for your udvice!” “But you haven't got on ye' “That's my affair. If I want to fool around a little and get acquainted with the idioms of the machine, I guess I can do it. I haven’t tried to mount yet.” ono! I thought you had. Just practicing, “And you will oblige me by going into the house, Mrs. Bowser. Should T require your presence or feel the need of any more sarcasm, I'll send you a postal card!” She went and when she had disappeared Mr. Bowser looked the machine over again and chuckled to himself. “I'll give the pesky thing a the way that Thompson did! I'll act as if I didn’t care whetker school kept or not, and then spring into the saddle all of a sudden.” He led the machine up and down the road a few times, patting the saddle in a father- ly way and humming.a tune, and bye and bye, after a quick glance at the house to see if Mrs. Bowser was looking, he made a sudden dash for the saddle. He gote there. Just how he did it he will never be able to make out, but to his utter surprise he found himself there and his feet clawing about for the pedals. His first impression was that he was at least twenty feet above the earth; his second that he was all of forty. He had a dim idea that he was speeding along like a race horse, but it didn’t last long. As a matter of fact, the machine took a “skit of about ten’ feet and suddenly stopped. Mr. Bowser also stopped. When Mrs. Bowser got out to im he was on one side of the road ard the wheel on the other. Mr. Bowser had struck on his head and was looking into vacancy and whispering to himself. It was like a dream—some one lifting his head—his body being rolled about—a wagon coming up and two men lugging him into the house. He meant to charge Mrs. Bow- ser with hitting him with a fence rail—with shoving a crowbar between the spokes to upset him—with maliciously planning his death—but the words refused to come, and while he was wondering what was the mat- ter he heard one of the men say: “Oh, not at all, ma’am—glad to be of any service. He'll come to after a while and be all right again in a few days, and if you have any influence with him ‘you'd better advise him to ride a rail. He's no bird for the bike.” —_ DISARMING THE PASSENGERS. Precautions to Make a Carlond Sate Enongh to Be Shipped, “I was down in Kentucky,” remarked a New York traveling salesman to a Star re- pcrter, “while Bryan was making his grand rounds, and on the day he was in Lexi: ton I was at Winchester, twenty miles away, and the point where the Lexington and Eastern road from the mountains ccmes into the blue grass region. The m:cuntaineers came down in force to hear their beloved Billy, and the railroad people, in order te accommodate the crowds, for hundreds of the visitors at the meeting come from the upper country, were com- pelled to @x up a lot of cattle cars in order to transport the Bryan throngs. The col- lection naturally would be something unique and peculiar, but this one was even mcre so, for the silverite of the mountain isa queer bird, truly. It was also bad-tem- pered by reason of the discomforts of travel, and the train hands were having all they could do to keep their passengers from hurting each other. At Winchester there was a delay, and as I was in a hurry to gét4o Lexington to make con- nections out "bf there, I became very im- patient, and-after pawing pine platform a while I irterviewed a traiffman. ‘What the thunder's the matter?’ sald I. “ ‘Matter with wnat?” he returned. “There's aply’ one thing to be the mat- ter with,’ sald — ‘and that’s the train.’ “Oh, ts that all?’ sa'd he in a voice which ded as if felt relieved. ‘What elseégould there be? I asked, inking there might be something else. ‘It's them back there,” he said, nodding toward the cattle ear loads of mountain- eers. ‘I guess you don’t know. what we've in there, do you?’ ‘And I dont care, What I want to krow is wnat we are stopping for.’ He came oyer close to me. “Well,” he said, in a whisper, ‘we stop- ped to dehorn some of them fractious ones in there, so’s we'll git the whole shipment to Lexington alive? —->—— A FUNERAL CUSTOM, The Troubles of n Woman in a Wild Mountain Country. “On my first circuit I had a lesson in human nature that I have never forgotten,” said a Methodist minister to a Star re- porter. “The circuit was in the mountains of West Virginia, and among the members of my church was a widow, who, in addition to the loss of her husband, had suffered final earthly parting with four of her chil- dren, leaving but two, a girl and a boy nearly grown. “One night I was asked to hasten to her cabin, which I did, reaching there just in time to be with her son when he died from the effects of an accident. “The mother although deeply grieved, acted more calmly than I expected, and early in the morning I went home, return- ing in the afternoon. I found the widow in a paroxysm of tears. I tried to comfort her with the usual Christian consolation. Fi she quieted down enough to say: “'Tain’t only thet he died. I know he’s a heap better off.” What is it, then?” ‘We kain’t hev no funeral.’ ‘No funeral?’ No. Sal's jess got back from th’ sto’, n’ not a ya'd o’ black hev they got. I ever did ‘tend no funeral ‘thout black, an’ I ain't goin’ ter now. He kin git ‘long ter be buried ‘thout a funeral better'n I kin bemean myse’f hav'n one when I ain’t got nothin’ fitten to w’ar.’ “And Jim was buried with no one present except his mother, his sister and me.” Se Like a Bicycle Tournament. The recent introducticn of the novelty of a bicycle tournament brings to mind that in France there !s a game practically con- ducted on the same basis, but moro famil- iarly known to the natives as “le car- rousel.” Tris is 2 game in which the wo- men take part. In fact, it is practically a woman's game, and they find in it plenty of amusement. From a pole a board is smspended lengthwise, somewhat resem- bling ono of the ring posts of a tourna- ment. Instead of having only one ting, however, a number of rings are attached with ribbons. The rings are witain the reach of the rider, who, instead of having a regulation lance, is’ equipped with a short, pointed stick. The fair riders who engage in the sport try for the rings, and the one securing the largest number is re- garded as the victor. ———__ Social Evolution. surprise party From Punch. Our New Literature. From the Chicago Journal. “Have you seen Strain's latest novel?” “Yes. I read it last night; a charming thing.” “Exciting?” “Rather.” ‘What's the plot’ “Purple and crimson, mostly. = coo- Raw Material. From the Indianapolis Journal. “All I ask,” said the man with the bust- ness glint in his eye, “is that they will give me plenty of rope.” Then it was that they recognized him as a manufacturer of campaign cigars. In Years to Come. From Life. The two archaeologists gazed at the heap of bones which they had exhumed. “This must have been an ancient burying ground,” said one. “More likely a bicycle riding academy,” replied the other. +e Point Blank. ‘Tramp (to benevolent but inquisitive lady) —Well, you see, mum, it were like this. I were a ‘addick smoker by profession; then I got ill, and ‘ad to go to the ‘orspital; then I sold cats meat; but some’ow or other I got into low water!” From Puck. Clara—“I was afraid if I let him kiss me I should be sorry for it afterward.” Maude—“Were you?” ART AND ARTISTS Miss Clara Hill fas changed her plans, ard will not go to New York this month as she had expected, but will go abroad in- stead. Paris is her objective point, though she does not now intend to go before spring. She will probably start about the 1st of April, and reach Paris in time to see the two salons. After that she will have the summer months in which to visit the galleries and museums, to sketch and com- plete her arrangements for her winter's work. * * * A rather elaborate historical picture is at present claiming a large share of Miss Susan W. Kelly’s attention. It portrays the profession of the first members of the Sisterhood of Bon Secours in France. Dur- ing the summer Miss Kelly devoted herself entirely to outdoor sketching, and brought home much good work. Among the sketches that she made is a color study made at Boonsboro’, Md., showing two country girls standing by a pump. * * * For some time past Mr. Ferdinand C. Leimer has been working on a figure which 1s to be placed over the grave of Miss Ethel Gibson. It has now been sent to New York, from whence it will be shipped to Italy, where it is to be cut in marble. The figure, in a sitting posture, and draped in a loose flowing robe, is in general an ideal type, but the face is a carefully studied likeness of Miss Gibson. A recent piece of modeling by Mr. Leimer is a bust of Mr. Ernest Gerstenberg. * x * Miss Aline Solomons left for New York on the 1st of October, and will probably re- main there about a month. Her visit is not one intimately connected with her work, and she plans to do little, if any, painting. * * * Miss Helen Nicolay has recently returned from Holderness, N. H. The birch trees of that region appear in many of her studies. She has always had quite a penchant for marine views, and has done many ecxellent things along the coast of Maine, but this year she did not go to the seashore. * * * Spencer Nichols is now working on a profile portrait of Dr. Adams, and is get- ling an excellent likeness. He has now un- der way an evening effect which he is painting on a large canvas. In the fore- ground are some old wharf buildings, and mecred at the water's edge a crowd of small boats, but all is silent and deserted. A little farther along some coal sheds loom out darkly, and in the distance lies the sleeping city with its myriad of twin- kling lights reflected in the water. Among the smaller landscapes which Mr. Nichols has painted recently is a little road scene with a luminous sunset dying out on the horizon, and a rainy day effect. * x * Miss Anna Hunt has returned from the Shinnecock Hills on Long Island, where she has been working in Mr. William M. Chase’s summer school. She has accom- plished a great deal this season, but left many of her best studies in New York to be shown in the exhibition Mr. Chase will hold of the work of his pupils. * * * A bust of Admiral Thomas H. Stevens has of late been engaging Mr. U. S. J. Dun- bar’s attention. He {s now at work on a tiny medallion of Hobart Nichols, and has started one of De Lancey W. Gill. He ex- pects to make quite a number of these delicately modeled profiles this winter. Mr. Dunbar has been making his designs for a mcnument competition that he is going to enter. * 3 * Mr. S. Jerome Uhl left for Ohio on Tues- day, and will probably stay about a month. He left for the west only a fortnight after his return from Atlantic City, where he has been spending the latter part of the summer, dividing his time between work and recreation., —— HYPNOTIZED APPETITES. A Story Which Shows How Occultinm in Hitched to Industrial Art. “One of the oddest things I ever saw,” remarked a physician in a small party ot Washington story tellers, “I saw in a kind of a hotel or rather feedery at the Chicago stock yard: “Men or cattle?” queried a listener. “Men; and good men. I wasn’t boarding there, but I knew the proprietor of the place, and had been his physician before he went to Chicago, and after he got there he made money enough to pay me to come down and look over his family about twice a year, I lived only « hundred miles away, and usually made my trips between day- light and dark, taking my noonday meal with him, at whicn time his main dining rcom had from one to two hundred diners in it. A great many of these were tran- sients, and very many more were green and unsophisticated young men from the country who had come in with stock and were utterly unused to city ways. “On the day in question I sat with the proprietor at his little look-out desk, from which he kept an eye on the business, ard watched the people eat, which is not as bad a show as you might think, if you never witnessed such a performance, As we sat there I noticed one waiter, a dark- skinned, Svengali-looking chap, who, in- stead cf having a territory assigned him, seemed to work all over the dining rocm. He was a worker, too, and first attracted me by the way he handled his people. “I spoke to the proprietor about him, zid he teld me to watch him, and he wouid tell me about him as soon as he had time. I foliowed his advice, and saw that the wait- er would apparently spot a man as he came in, and when he reached a chair ke would be there with a bow and a smile ready to wait on him. The nan would seem to start, as if recognizing him, and would sit down and begin to look nervous. “The waiter, in the meantime, kept his eye on him, and would take his order. Of- ten the order was extremely light, covering only a cup of tea or a piece of meat and bread, or possibly a glass of milk, or a bowl of bread and milk. The waiter would smile and seem to insist on the guest tak- ing more, but the guest shook his head, and soon finished his frugal repast. As a phystvian, I wondered how men who work- ed as these did could get along with so lit- tle food. “Phat afternoon the proprietor smiled when I asked him about the peculiar wait- er. ‘He's a jewel,’ he said, ‘and he’s worth more to me than any waiter I've got, though I’m always a little afraid of him, and to keep him in good humor I pay him about 50 per cent more than I do any of the others. I don’t know what he does, and I never speak of it to anybody, and only to you because you are my family physician, but he has a way of picking out the people he wants to wait on as they come in, and when he gets hold of them he makes them eat what he wants them to. “ ‘Sometimes a big, hearty fellow will gag and apparently get sick when he sits dcwn to the table, and after a bite cr two he pays his bill and goes out. That doesn’t happen often, though. His way is to make his people eat just a little of the cheapest things—it's a thirty-five-cent dinner, you know—and many times a glass of milk and bread or a piece of pie will be all they want, and they will go out perfectly satis- fied to pay thirty-five cents for it. it isn’t any of my business to ask about their health or their appetite, and I don’t. I leave my waiter to do that,’ and the pro- prietor smiled innocently rather than in guile. “[ didn’t want to spoil a good thing, but I thought I ought to,” concluded the phy- sictin, “and I proceeded to tell my friend that the waiter was a Svengali—py the way, he kad never heard of such a person —and was defrauding the patrons cf the restaurant by hypnotizing them and send- ing them out filled only with suggestions, and that while it might be extremely re- munerative, it was not right at all, and the waiter should be sent away. Then think- ing my _ advice would be followed, of course, I took my departure. Six months later I came back, and the first man I saw in the dining room was Svengali. I fancy,” and the physician sighed, “the Chicago cli- mate or something must have had an effect on my friend’s moral sensibilities.” ‘WHISKY IN PLACE OF WATER. How the Bloody Plans of Wild In- dians Were Frustrated. A Star man happened to meet a man who had served « term or two or three in various penitentiaries, hadn't served sev- eral he should have served, and is likely to serve more before he ts through with him- self. Of course, that kind of a man was interesting, and, after a time, when he got to talking under the mellowing influence of things made for the purpose, he was more interesting. “When I was fifteen years younger than I am now,” he said, “I was out in the mountains of the west on a govern- ment reservation, where I could make money by selling whisky under post prices. I was always on the make, and so I smug- gied in a dozen or more gallons and had them hid in a cave ten miles or so out of reach. The cave was a kind of a two-story affair, the upper story being my secret, ard there I had my jugs of liquor hid away, and frem there I carried it out in smailer quantities for distribution. The lower part of the cave was twenty feet below the upper chamber, and in this part was a basin of water, which had dripped from the upper part. It did not contain more than a gallon of water. I know {t was easily exhausted, for I spent many a night there, and found there wasn’t water enough to boll a kettle with. “Well, about the time I got in my second installment of fire-juice the Indians got bad, and began creeping in toward the settle- ments. I thought my cave was unknown to the Indians, as well as the whites, but it appears that it wasn’t, and one morning I barely had time to slip out of my down- stairs room and get up in the loft before ten or twelve of about the bloodiest-look- ing braves you ever saw squatted in front of my residerce and began holding @ coun- cil of war. In half an hour or more all of them except one ent away, and he re- mained to keepryatch, “At noor three returned with five white prisoners, and at 6 o'clock the rest of them came in with a girl about four years old. Just what they were going tc do was not apparent, and it wasn’t easy for me to find out, because when I came down to a point where I could see I was in danger of getting caught myself. I did see enough, though, to show me that the five prisoners, who were all old men, hadn't much chance for their lives, but that the child would be carried away. To save myself had been my first thought, and now to save there poor wretches was first. “While I was debating what to do or give it up as a bad job, one of the Indians went to the spring and got some water. That was my cue. In a minute more I was back up in my chamber just over the head- waters of the spring, and, having turned the drip into ancther channel, I started a stream of that kill-at-forty-rod whisky down the shoot and then slipped back to watch the proceedings. ‘They were discuss- ing when to kill the prisoners—I knew enough Indian to know that—and when it was about determined to hold them over a day and see if they couldn't pick up a few mcre and have a real big time, another of them went over to the spring for water. This time it wasn’t so much water as it had been. Whatever it was made the ugly redskin give a big ‘ugh’ of delight, and the others went over to him. Well, it isn’t recessary for me to go into particulars. “Anybody, even a reporter, knows what becomes of an Indian or a dozen of them when there are unlimited quantities of fire water at their disposal, and as soon as I saw how the thing was going I hurried back and set another jug to work. I was a little afraid they might get ugly drunk and kill their prisoners, but evidently they hadn't hed much to eat that day, and the liquor was getting in its work on empty stomachs Whatever was the cause, be- fore I had any idea that it was time for it, the whole lot of them was full, and in a few minutes more they were lying around the little basin of the spring, so drunk they couldn't move hand nor font. “Then it was my time to play, and I corked up the liquor upstairs for another day and went down stairs. There wasn’t much time for thanks, because we didn't know when the enemy might make it un- pleasant for us. So I told the prisoners to take care of the Indians while I took care of the little girl, which I did by taking her outside of the cave, where she could breathe the free air of heaven once more. You see, I kind of thought they might like to attend to things themselves,” he added, apologetically, and stopped. “And did they?’ inquired the reporter, as the narrator seemed to think he had reached the end of his story. “I suppose they did,” he replied; “at least, when I went back to the cave about a month later, when the war had simmered down some, I found the bodies of them Indians almost as well preserved as if the had been put up in alcohol, that dern whis of mine was so powerful, you know. I was always kind of sorry I hadn't sent the prisoners to take care of the little gir! while I took care of them Indians. By cripes, I never got a cent for the liquor they drank.” aS ONLY LIVE ROBBERS. The Post Office Department Does Not Pay Rewards for Dead Ones. Some very curious cases have been de- cided by the law department of the Post Office Department relating to rewards for the capture of robbers of post offices. Mr. Milliken Fas just rendered a decision against a claimant at California, Mo., where a post office safe was robbed. In such cases the department pays $200 each for the conviction of the persons engaged in the robbery. There were five persons concerned in the affair, but the authorities had no clue to the men. It happened, how- ever, that the guilty persons were in a saloon some time afterward, and one of them got into a dispute with a farmer and a lively rew ensued, in which the farmer shot cud killed the man. The other men ran out, but were captured by other per- sors, not because they were post office rebbers, but because they were engaged in the row. It turned out on examination that the man who was killed was the ringleader of the robbers and had the bulk of the booty on his person. His death resulted in prov- ing complicity in_the robbery upon the other four men. The men who captured the four have been allowed $800. The farmer made application for $4), but it ts held that the reward being offered for the “arrest and conviction” of the robbers, he carrot be paid the amount. The dead rob- ber was neither arrested nor convicted of the offense. Mr. Milliken said that it yas rather hard, but, under the law, ne could do nothing else. He recalled a case in Oklahoma where there had been a robbery and three notori- ous desperadoes were pursued, and, after a fierce encounter, one was killed, another mortally wounded’ and the other captured. The dead robber in this instance was the leader and had nearly all the stolen prop- erty on his person. The others were tried and convicted, and the wounded man died shortly afterward. The reward of $400 was paid for the capture of the two, but, al- though Mr. Milliken reported in favor of paying the reward for the dead robber, it was found not to* be in accordance with the law, and was refused. Post office rob- bers must be taken alive in order to secure rewards. is, thar wuz awhile back.” “The family doesn’t seem to get over it very readil, Who was it and how long A WIFE’S SYMPATHY I hed no idea who the people were I was stopping with for the night in the €umberland mountains, and I cared no more so long as I had food and shelter, and these two necessities were abundant and excellent, all things considered. As I arrived at the house about an hour by sun and supper wasn't ready till sundown, I had some little opportunity to study my host and his family. He was a typical mountaineer of the saffron complexion and the scrawny neck with the chin whisker, and a more solemn and serious-looking man I never saw. He was absolutely lu- gubrious, and he stalked around the house like the shadow of a great pain. His companion, a woman whom I im- agined to be his sister, was also painfully solemn, but not nearly sv bad as the man was, and very much better still when he was out of hearing. She was dressed in mourning, but it did not seem to affect her seriously when the man was not by. Later, two or three children came in from the fields and stood around like mutes at @ funeral. “Excuse me,” I said to the woman, whom I happened upon at the wood pile, as I strolied around, waiting for supper, “but is there anybody dead around here?” Not jis’ now,” she answered, as if it Were a relief to her to talk about it; “that has it been “Hit wuz Jeemes's wife; that’s him you seen walkin’ around here when you {ust come.” “Ah, that's sad. dead?” “Seven or eight months er sich a mat- ter.” ‘There was a harsher note in the woman's voice than grief. “I presume,” I ventured, “that you are wearing mourning for her?” “Yes,” she said, rather sharply; “that wuz a notion of Jeemes’s. He thought es how hit would look somethin’ more like ef I wuz to wear black for her. Kinder show respeck for the deceased, Jeemes said, and make hit easier for him to bear.” How lovg has she been *m sure, that was very good in yoa,” I said, with very apparent sincerity, for I meant all I said. . “That's what the neighbors all said, en’ Jeemes kinder didn’t expect I would, I reckon.” “No, I should think he wouldn't. Sisters as a rule don’t put on mourning for their brother's wives.” She looked at me with a flushed face. “I ain't no sister uv his’n,” she said, al- most indignantly. No?" I said, in some surprise. you must have been her sister?” “No; ner her'n neither,” she said, ard her manner made me half afraid that I had mentioned the matter at all. “I'm his wife—I reckon I might as well tell you fust as last—and I married him six months atter his fust wife died, and he said that now seein’ I wuz in the fam'ly I oughter wear black, and hit kinder "peared that way to me, too, an’ I done hit, but sometimes hit sorter ‘pears as ef I wuz forcin’ the season er somethin’. Bein’ as you air a stranger an’ ain't quite so useter thing: I'd like to know how hit ‘pears to you? And I proceeded to inform her as to my opinion on the subject and what I thought she ought to do tn the premises. W. J. LAMBTON. > — AND THE COURT CAME BACK. “Then His Honor Could Sympathize With a Man Whose War Record Was Assailed From the Chic Record. Judge Randolph of the Kansas district court was one of the frontier judicial off- cers who believed in upholding the dignity of the bench, and as well was tenacious of his own pers: 1 honor. A divorce suit, in which a gray-haired veteran of the late war was plaintiff, came up before him while he was on the circuit out in a prairie county. The rude court room was filled with spectators, and the old man seemed unwilling to go on the stand in his own defense. “I am not going to grant divorces with- out good reasons,” announced the court, and the plaintiff went to the chair that served as a witness box. Sow,” began the attorney, what your wife did to mak her.” The witness looked appealingly at the judge “tell us just you leave swer the question,” was the order. Well, she called me names.” That is not round enough for divorce,” aid the court, sternly. “And she neglected me.” “Ts that all? “And she said that I was a coward and a sneak becauae I went to the war and came batk alive. She said that all the bra and worthy men died in battle, and only the traitors and cowards came home, and—”" “That do, sir; the decree prayed for in your petition is granted,” broke in the judge. “I want you to understand, sir, that this court went to that ir, and spent four years there—and the court came back, too.” a He'd Done It Before. From the Chicago Post. “You look after the dimes,” he sald in his lordly manner at the conclusion of a few remarks on the cost of running @ house, “and I'll look after the dollars.” “T've been looking “after the dimes all my life,” she protested indignantly; “that’s all I’ve had to look after, while you—you—" “Maria,” he cautioned, fearful that there was about to be an explosion. “while you have been diligently looking after the dollars—" His face relaxed in a gratified smile. —to spend,” she said in conclusion. He realized then that she had made @ study of him. = coo — Poisoning India. From the Chicago Inter-Ocean, The increase in the number of poisonings in India is attracting a great deal of at- tention in London. Formerly pounded glass and opium were the favorite agents of destruction used. But education from a European point of view has imparted to the dwellers of Hindoostan the knowledge of a number of new and far more deadly compounds and drugs. The majority of the victims are men and children. In India it is a favorite way of paying off an old score to poison the child of one’s en- emy, while, according to official statistic in the majority of cases where men haj been poisoned the culprit has turned out to be his mother-in-law. IONS Marvelous Mi From Puck. “I lived in Washington during the war,” he remarked. The hotel loungers looked at each other uneasily. “In all that time,” he pursued, “Lincoln never told me a story.” The hotel loungers gazed at him, and gazed and gazed. ELEANOR’S EXPLANATIO: From Life. Mamma—‘How cruel, Eleanor, to hurt the poor little worm.” E) nor—“‘But he looked so lonesome, mamma, an’ I jus’ cut him in twows he'd have company, an’ the two of him wiggled off together jus’ ever so happy!