Evening Star Newspaper, January 30, 1897, Page 14

14 Richard Harding Davis."—says a ge tleman who was in Moscow last summer, but who does not claim to have witnessed the coronation ceremonies,—“prints in the February number of Harper very faithful and graphic descriptions of that part of Russia lying between the German frontier and Moscew, and also of that city and its unparalleled preparations for that great historical event, but he makes a bad break when he speaks of McGahan, the famous newspaper correspondent, as ‘of Cleveland, Ohio.” An Ohioan McGahan was, but not of Cleveland. He was from Perry county. in that state—a sort of backwoods local- from which much was never ex- ted, but which nevertheless gave to the that gal! fighter Phil Sheri- | weil as ahan, who was un. daring and brilliant’ | Met his time. And Mr ill wider of the mark when he 5 rier, who could have | it, lies buried now was indeed interred the place of his lamented death, his remains were afterward r ved | from there by loving and reverent friends e i the unpretentious litile mpora- atholic cemetery at New Lexington, in the county of his birth, near where his ves still reside. “L see by the added the reminis- narrator, “* movement ha: ced in Washington, the capital of the he honored and loved so 5 or perhaps I had better say les ! than they used to be in their conduct to- ward women; there is no disguising that remarked one lady to another at eland’s tea last Saturday. the other, “and the worst cf nged | S$ rests upon the women The stage-obscuring theater y to blame for it. A man rea- ‘Lf a so-called lady has no rights or comfo tudied rudeness to on mannish way y should I her by gi is that the respons.bility for this c! cendition of thir themse ng up my seat her tne man: that her ems to me the whole drift at direction, and it is a greatly to be regret “Too ” remari mate fea offend ar > thoughtle: rarely punished. . and the giddy as ever. whiie st are left j or are treated with | t. But it was always the i is at once about the best- the worst-paved city I ever -" Thus spoke an eminent civil engi- t of a northern city in one of our lead- hotels an evening or two ago. “What I mean,” he continued, “is, that while some of ber roadways will compare with the best to be found anywhere, some of her footwalks are just about the worst. Yes, the v And on some of the fash- le avenues and most used thorough- too. In the latter respect the na- , that rather and very justly f£ on her attractions, would ison with almost any of prosperous and progressive towns in you are pleased to call the ‘wild and | west.’ In fact, Washington is the place I know where pedestrians for- sake the sidewalk and use the middle of the street for comfort and safety, especial- ly and iona fares ti old-time brik 1 not a iew of them, have . <2 my own knowiedge, more than and some perhaps &0,—are in such a that ought not to be toi nmunity, have right to rulers. They are unsightly, un- able and unsaie, to the last degree. is, no brick pavement ought io be laid on the footwaiks of any city after it 4 population of so many as a hundr nd peopie. Indeed, h artificial stone pavements that now be put down, there is no longer a good Tor saying orick 100lWasks any- for pubiie use. They soon become | t of the differe: of burning; they are qu. -kly | own out of place vy the frost, and the | paces between the bricks gather and hold | germs of disease. In short, what Washington needs, and ought to have, is | @ conmpetent and determined Inspector of | | Sidewalks, with authority to compel the re- moval of all brick pavements wherever course,on the taickiy traveled res,—and the substitution there- | one or gr: sh If you rthing I am saying.” he con- say it wot because i dislike, but because I aaumire Wasnington. tuaeed, I like Wash- ington mere than any city I know,—more, even, than the place where I was born But I would ike her still better if her pe ple and visitors had as good footwalks as | they are entitled to.” | ee * * & “Extremes in the weather,” remarked a adles a large line of ther- in cold or heat create a ers, and though I had a rather large stock on hand, the fall in the Weather which started on Sunday last nearly cleared me out. On Monday, I i more thermometers than on y other day that I have been in business. dinartty people give but little attention to thermometers, but let @ very severe change come and they will have them, it matters not how much they cost. I don’t exactly understand it, but it appears that many persous are more thoroughly con- vineed that it is very cold or extremely “arm when they read their own thermom- «ers. Another thing ‘Is that they seem to exjoy ng mercury Ko down or rise eud for that reason like to have the weath- ¢r measurer in their own possession. Trade Was exceedingly dull in thermometers, but somehow, though, they are generally be ught freely at Christmas time, there were but few purchasers until about Monday last. Then it was very active. eee KK “The more I study itto the question of warts,” said a well-known physician, “the more convinced I am that there is but little known of them. It is surprising what few references are made to warts by the standard writers. In many of the leading books on-surgery there {s no mention at all of warts, and as a result physicians are almost in as much dark about them as others. To teH the truth, I have got more information from old nurses about warts than lever did frem my medical or surgi- cal lectures cr from my reading. Hun- dreds and hundreds of times patients have asked me how to get rid of warts, and my arswer has generally been to jet them atone, and that they would go away as mysteriously as they came. Of course I could cut them off or burn them off with caustic or nitric acid, but my experience has been that two or three came back for every one so removed. I am not supersti- tious on anything exeept warts and I con- fess that I'am about them. A few weeks { please let it be understood that I | { | appear. THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, -JANUARY 30, 1897-24 PAGES. ince I was visiting the wife ef a southern enator who has two grandchildren with her this winter. One of the grandchildren had a big wart on the end of the fore- finger of the right hand, and of course hit it every time the child touched anything. I was asked ff I could do anything to re- move it and I replied as usual to let it alone and that in hort time it would dis- This, however, was but little com- fort to the lady, who said the child, a little boy of four years,was, she thought, tn con- stant pain from it. I then told her that if she wished the wart from the little fellow and on to herself it would likely change places and that it would be-necessary for her to wish very hard to make a sure transfer. I had forgotten all-about-it until Tuesday last, when I visited the lady again. Strange as it may sound, the wart had left the grandchild’s finger and was on her own, and giving her a great deal of trouble, Rk eee “Newspapers and newspaper men,” ob- served an old journalist, “are not given as much credit as they are entitled ta. Too often persons who read_ newspaper ar- ticles are apt to think and say that the ideas expressed in their-articles are the ideas of others. Thus, a legal article is supposed to be the work of some legal gentleman, an article of .a scientific char- acter the thoughts of a scientist, and so on. It is not generally known, but it is a fact, nevertheless, that the first time an amendment to the Constitution doing away with slavery was ever mentioned was by James Gordon Bennett the elder. . The abo- litionists, the free soilers, the lawyers and Politicians had been earnestly discussing the matter for years. The slaveholders answered all of their arguments by citing the fact that the Constitution did not pro- hibit slavery, and the most enthusiastic lover ef freedom had to admit the truth of the statement. This thing had run along for years, when James Gordon Ben- nett announced that the whole thing could be fixed in a legal and thorough manner by simply amending the Constitution. It solved the whole problem. The amend- ment was offered by Charles Sumner, and it became the law of the land by the ac- tion of Congress, ratified by two-thirds of the states. The Gordian knot was cut easily when the proper one had the knife. 1 can put my hand on the article with a little trouble, and defy the abolitionists and humanitarians of that day, or the de- scendants of them, to disprove the asser- tion. This is of interest not alone for the fact itself, which was one of the grandest achievements of any time, but for the other fact that the proper way of doing what nine-tenths of the people north of Ma- son and Dixon's line thought should be done was indicated by a newspaper man, though the man in question had never been sup- posed to be an abolitionist. He. was not, and never claimed to be. All he claimed was that if slavery should be abolished it was best that it should be abolished in a Proper, legal manner, and if the Constitu- tion or anything else was in the way that the Constitution, by way of an amendment, should be gotten out of the way. Horace Greeley, later on, gave the bankers, finan- cial people, the lawyers and every one else who had got into a terrible tangle as to how to resume specie payments at the close of the war, the secret which un- tangied everything when he wrote that the proper way to resume specie payments ‘was to resume specie payments,’ and lose no time about it. Simpie as this key to the situation was, none cf the legal or financial minds of the country who were most interested had been able before that to grasp it.” +s RES “Andrew Jackson was the first President inaugurated from portico of the Capi- tol, March 4, 1829,” volunteered a local historian, “all the previous tnauguration ceremonies in this city having taken place inside of the Capito? bullding. Washington was inaugurated first in the Senate cham- ber in New York. His second inauguration teok place in the Senate chamber in Phila- delphia, Congress having removed there. John Adams was, likewise, inaugurated in Philadelphia. Thomas Jefferson was the first President inaugurated in Washington, the ceremony taking place in the Senate chamber, now the room of the United States Supreme Court. His second inaugu- ration ceremonies took place in the same room. James Madison was inaugurated in the hall of the House of Representatives, now the statuary hall. So was President Monroe, for his second term. His first in- auguration, in 1817, took place at the old ‘apitol, the Capitol having been burned by the British in 1814. Though the swear- | ing in took place inside the old Capitol the inaugural address was delivered in the open air. John Quincy Adams, who fol- lo him as President, was inaugurated in the House of Representatives. The style set by Andrew Jackson has been fol- lowed by all Presidents since.” xk OK KX “I am thoroughly convinced,” said the head of one of the departments, “that there should be a physician employed in each of the departments and large bureau buildings to attend cases of sudden illness and emergencies generally. There is hard- ly a day when the services of a physician are not needed in the departments. The gcvernnent would save money by it, for time and time again the physician could attend minor cases of iliness and relieve the sufferer. As it is now, the slightest illness causes the employes to go to their homes for treatment, and their time is lost to the government. The clerk, too, is put to an expense that would be saved if there | was a physician in each of the depart- ments. I had intended treating of this matter in my last amnval report, in No- vember last, but I was so much engaged in other matters that it escaped my mind. It was my desire to do so for the benefit of the clerks themselves as well as the in- terest of the government. I mentioned the matter several times to the heads of the other departments, and I found that they | Were as well satisfied as I am that it was @ necessary innevation. I do not think I shall make any move in the matter now, as the administration will change so short- ly, but I hope that some attention will be paid the matter by those who are to suc- ceed us.” ‘That reminded another buckeye states- man of “Old Nick Longworth.” “Long- worth,” said he, “was an eccentric old man. He was a millionaire and owned a palatial residence in Cincinnati, but car- ried’ simplicity of dress and manner to an extreme. One warm evening in summer, after walking to his home, the heat. was sO great that he was glad to sit on the lower step of his residence and catch his breath. Nothing was more natural than that he should remove his hat so that the breeze from over the Rhine might fan his brow. So he sat with his upturned hat resting on his knees, when two kind-heart- ed girls passed by. ‘See the poor old man,” said one. ‘Let us give him something.’ ‘They stopped, and dropping several small coins in his hat, went on thelr way think- ing they had performed a worthy deed in relieving distress and destitution.” eo : A HARD BLow. One of Those Cyclones in Kansas Oftener Read ef Than Survived. The gentleman from Kansas was con- versing with the lady from New York at a small kettle drum, or bass drum, or some- thing like that, which ts eventuating four or five times &@ day and once or twice on Sunday in the social circles of the capital, and she was especially interested in the meteorological movements incidental to the Picturesque and moving climate of the sunflower state. “Your cyclones,” she said, in such eager- ness that she almost twittered in her speech, “‘are a perfect wonder to me.”” “Yes'm,”’ he responded with the uncer- tain and retiring manner of the west when it confronts the east on its native heath, “there's a good deal to ‘em. Never seen one, I guess, did you?” “No, but I should dearly love to.” He looked at her pityingly. “I guess you mean through*a telescope, don’t you?” he . “T’d love to see one, anyway, so long as I could only have the opportunity of seeing it,” she said, without recognizing or realiz- ing the irony of his speech. “Tell me some- thing about them. Aren't they magnifi- cent?” “They're powerful, ma’am. The last one that swept over our country killed seventy- five people right in one neighborhood, ma’am, and the very one where I live.” “Dreadful! Awful! How did it happen? “Just like they always do, ma’am— mighty sudden; but this one was suddener than usual and caught the people away from their dug-outs.” ‘Dug-outs?” she questioned. “Yes’m, dug-outs. You see, ma’am, for safety we dig holes in the ground which we run into and hide till the fury of the storm is past. In this way our lives are saved dozens of times every year. These holes are sometimes Hke a cistern, only not so deep, and they haven't any lining or anything in them. They're just holes in the ground, that's all. Well, in my neighn- borhood where this last one was so fatal, I guess there was about a hundred dug- outs, and when the storm come, it come so quick that before the people could get to them the cyclone had blowed every dern ore of them holes clean out of the ground, and over into the next couniy. Of course, that left the poor people without any protection and the wind done about as it pleased with them.” “Couldn't they get them back again?” asked the lady, as guileless and sympathet- ic as women always are. “To be certainly, ma’am; but you see it couldn't be done in time to save the peo- ple,” and the gentleman from Kansas seem- ed to show a faint quiver in his lip as he turned away to hide his grief. —_ A WISE ADVERTISER. A Little Jokelet Now and Then is Relished by the Best of Men. “If there is anything I don’t like,” ob- served the drummer handling a line of cloaks ard furs and selling a lot of them in Washington, “it is puns or the man who Produces them on sight or keeps them on tap. The only place that a pun can be used at all, in my judgment, is in an adver- tisement, for there a man pays for it, and he can print anything he wants. Besides, a pun in an advertisement seems to catch the eye that kind of wanders around waiting for something to fix it. “I guess that is what I was doing about ten days ago in a New England town of about 4,00) people, where you might expect people to make prayers, but never puns. I was merely there to catch a train on a cross-road, and while waiting I wandered along the main street of the town. At last I came to a store where the proprietor had out in front a lot of rickety-looking furs, wraps, robes, gloves and that kind of win- ter wearing apparel, with sleigh bells on the side. On the lot he had a card that showed up like a circus bill, which bore the inscription: “Killing Costumes.” “It was none of my business, of course, but I stopped to examine the stuff, and the proprietor, a cheerful sort of a soul, came out to see me.” “‘What you got that on there for? said I pointing to the card.” “**Cause that’s what ought to be there,’ said he smilling. ‘But it oughtn’t,’ said I. “ “Why oughtn’t it?’ “Simply because ‘killing’ in the sense you use it there means something brilliant and striking, and those things are as Plain as the nose on your face.” “Just the same, they are for sleighing Durposes,’ grinned the merchant, with his thumb up to that same piain nose, and the far oft forests of Punjaub echoed the notes of his triumph as I hurried back to the train that was to carry me away from the scene of my discomfiture.” Se An Idyl of the Avenue. He was moving slowly along Connecticut avenue. : It was Sunday after church and the ave- nue was crowded with elegantly attired people. For a dozen years he had lived in Wash- ington, and he had been through this great thoroughfare at all hours of the day and night, and on all days of the week. Yet none of those people had ever no- tices him, or if they ever did, had given no sign. . He had never been inside of a church, and though thousands of Christian people had met him daily, never a one had given to him so little thought as to ask if he had a soul to save. And in that throng were ministers of the Gospel and good women who sought the heathen in far-off lands, and told them the story of the gospel of peace. What wonder is it that the great city is called heartless and cruel? Coming to it from the country at an’early age, he had been at once thrown upon his own resources, and though of excellent breeding, he had not been recognized in the city, where wealth is the higher standard of merit, and today among all these peo- ple there was not one to whom he could have spoken, if it had ever occurred to him to do so. A No house along the capital’s magnificent streets and avenues had ever opened its hospitable doors to him; under the ma- hogany of no great statesman or of no ple. thoric-pursed millionaire had he ever stretched his legs; in no invited company of theirs had he ever mingled, and no wo- man, of all those who shine resplendent in the nation’s capital, had ever listened in rapt delight to lover’s words from lips of his. He had never even worn a dress suit. A dozen years in the capital and he had never dined at the Metropolitan Club. At the corner beyond as he moved slow- ly along. he stopped a moment to permit a lady to cross his path. Only a year before he had stood outside the church where she had been married in regal splendor, but she did not remember him. Why should she? ° He was only a cab hors Wise Provision. From the Chicago Post. She had just promised to be his, but she still had her doubts upon some points. “Shall we run away?” he asked. “I don’t mind,” she jwered, “provided you have the price of a round-trip ticket.” He realized then that she was a new wo- man who did not believe in taking any chances. « —_——_~e-—_. The Same as Usual. From the New York Evenlag World. Old Gent—“Waiter, I want a steak and potatoes. Perhaps you remember me. I was here yesterday.” Wailter—“Yes, sir. Will you have the ola Gan ves, if no one is using them.” Good Medicine. From Judy. “Well, nurse, is the patient taking that tablespoonful of brandy once in two hours that I ordered him this morning?’ “Rather, doctor! He's twenty ahead.” “I hear, Mrs. Derby, that your husband has two revolvers and a Winchester for burglars who call.” got them.” From the Atlanta Constitution. a “Not feeling well this morning, major?” “Wo, sir; sick, “Didn't abuse New Year, did ait aco ies didnt drink a the whole Two KINDS OF DRY. a -A Kentucky tleman Explains a Painful Circumstance. Two-distingwishda officials, a newspaper man and a barkéeffer, were in the room at the time the | from Kentucky came in with a mint jujlep,judge from the old dominion. ano The colonel joined the group at the small table, and, after“ihtroducing the judge, he nodded familiarly }o the barkeeper. The prelimingries being arranged, the colonel bowed t6 the group with the de- Hghtful courtesy: of’ his class. “If I may. be permitted, gentlemen,” he sald, “I shall ‘proceed with the story I was telling to ,my. frier.d, the judge, as we came iu.” |) Permisaion was given unanimously. “Thank you, gentlemen,” responded the colonel. “As I was saying to my friend, the driest town I ever witnessed or had anything to do with in any other regard was a small town in Kentucky, the finest state on earth, sirs, and it was due entire- ly to the biggest and wettest flood ever experienced in those parts.” “Flood of water?” inquired the newspaper man, who had never heard of that much ae being allowed in Kentucky at one ime. “Certainly”—the colonel was a refreshing example of innocent ignorance. ‘Every stream for miles around was running out of its banks and was converted into an impassable torrent for two entire weeks. Came s0 suddenly, too, that people were not prepared for it.” “But, colonel, how in thunder could that make it dry?” asked one of the officials, who, if he were charged with being the brightest man in Washington, could read- ily prove an alibi. “Easy enough,” explained the colonel, as he held up the glass which the barkeever had but then set down, “éasy enough. You see, the impassable torrents completely shut off our supply of liquor and almost resulted fatally.”” ~ JOHNSON» Human Nature. N vain he thunders rhetoric and awes the listening crowd, Until with him they hasten to agree; In vain they greet each utterance with plaudits long and loud; Such things have no significance with me. I scarce restrain a smile when men stand gladly up and say Those words of praise whose lavishness must cloy; ‘The alibi official paid for the next round. | I ne'er can look upon him save as ordinary aes THE THIRD KENTUCKY. A District Noted for the Men It Pro- duced as Well as Oil. “The third district of Kentucky has a remarkable ‘history in-many respects,” said Representative Hunter of that district to a Star reporter. “It was there that Jeffer- scn Davis, president of the confederate states, was born; also cx-Secretary of the Treasury Fenjamin H. Bristow, ex-Gover- nor Presten H. Tester of Montana, ex- Senator Maxey of Texas, Senator Wilkin- son Call of Florida, Senetor Roger Q. Mills of ‘Texas, Representative Benton Mc- Millin of Tennessee, and many others. The first oil well on this centinent was discov- ered in that district, It was the American well, and was struck in 1830 at a depth of 175 fect, while men were boring for sali water. Its preduct was shipped all over the world as a medicine for more than a quarter of a century before oil was found in Pennsylvania. The mammoth cave is located within its border, and there are Many other natural curiosities.” Representative Hunter, who represenis the district, was the chairman of the re- publican executive committee, which first carried the state for that party. He may be the first republican United States Sen- ator from Kentucky. ——.—__ The Poetess From Life. md the Scarecrow. That is the time of love; clay; I used to know him when he was a boy. Can I forget the patch that grew upon his Dantaloon? The old straw hat that thatched his tousled head? Can I forget his truancy one August after- noon, Likewise the punishment to which it led? Can I forget his awkward and humiliating pause In recitations which would so annoy? Cheer, if you choose, but ask me not to join in your applause; I used to know him when he was a boy. I've oftey thought I'd vote for him, if con- science would allow, And, some day, when he merits it, I will. And, by the way; 1 am myself an office- | seeker now; I've found the place that no one else could fill, “influence” I’ have the man that we've just talked about; Of course he'll do his very best with joy. | He'll undertake to see me through the fight beyond a doubt; Why, I used to know him when he was a boy. ~ For * * * The Colonel and the Major. - Col. Stilwell and Maj. Mott were sitting in the office of the hotel, as close to the radiator as they could get. ‘ “Kunnel,” said the major, “I desiah to ask yoh advice about a mattuh of a good deal of impohtance.” “Any infohmation which I possess is en- tlahly at yoh suhvice, suh.” “This weathuh has been the most trying that I have experienced in some time.” “It has been inexcusable: you can say nothing in criticism of it which will be too severe to secure my indohsement.” “In spite of my reguluh observance of the usual precautions in such cases— “Without the use of watah, collaterally “Invariably, suh—in spite of my prud- ence, I find that I am threatened with a severe cold.” “Majuh,” said the colonel, “I take great Pleasure in infawming you that I have a prescription which has proved efficaciors in several instances. Yoh get some hot watah, and some lemons, and some Ken- tucky spirits, and yoh mix them in such Proportions as suit yoh taste. I have al- Ways contended that the homeopathic school is right in its theory that there is no excuse foh making a dose unpalatable to the patient. Yoh take a tumbler full of the mixture every quarter of an hour: and if between times you see fit to take a: y one of the ingredients separately, it will not in- tuhfere with the cohsg of treatment.” “I have heard of that remedy befo’,” the reflective answer. “I do not claim it as original,” replied the colonel, ‘‘nor do I promise that it will ef- fect a permanent cure. But I will guaran- tee*f'um pus’nal experience that aftuh fol- fowing these directions, you won't care, suh, whethuh you have a cold or not, suh.” * was * x Took His Word. ‘ They were talking about events in Lon- don ard the achievements of a young wo- man of their acquaintance, in the social world of Great Britain. “It is utterly beyond my comprehension,” said yourg Mrs. Torkins, “that people who have been educated in this country should make such to-do over members of royal families. They are flesh and blood, Just as we are. “Still,” said the caller, “there jis some- thing very fascinating about meeting peo- ple of distinguished family; peopie with every opportunity to improve themselves and with such traditions of ancestry be- hind them.” “No,” said Mrs. Torkins: “I don’t care anything about them. They are great bores.” “I don’t see why you speak so positively.” “I know what I am talking about; that’s wk; I would much rather sit right here and talk to you than be entertained by the greatest queen that ever held a scepte: persisted the caller, “you have Tever met a queen.” “No,” was the confident answer; “but Charley has.” “Indeed?” “Yes. It was his description of the inci- dent that opened my eyes. He hadn't said a word to me about where he was going. The poor fellow staid out ever so late, waiting his turn, I suppose. Hé looked so disappointed that I asked him what the matter was. “And dic he tell you?” “Of course. Charley never has any se- crets. He had just seen three queens all at once, and he assured me with his own Ups that he had not passed such a disa- greeable evening in years.” * x * Pe of an Orpheus. “Josiar,” said Mr. Corntassel, “c’mere. I wanter hev a conversation weth yer. I wanter speak ter ye ez an indulgent yet careful parent orter.” “What's the matter?” “I noticed su’thin’ among yer traps thet gives me a good deal of oneasiness.” “You mean the boxing gloves and the foils. They’re just for exercise.” “No I don’t mean them. Ye’ve gone an’ bought yerself a guitar.” “Oh, yes.” “‘an’ I reckon ye're learnin’ ter play onto it” “A little bit” “Josiar, don't do it. Let it alone. Ye don’t re'lize the resks ye’re takin’.” “Why, I’m sure there can be no more harmless than sitting down and playing a little for your own amusement.” long ez ye jes’ play fur yer own amusement, it don’t make no trouble. But |. only goes but there's su’thin’ "boui a guitar that ye can’t account fur. "Tain’t like no other sing, an’ a banjo’ll make ye wanter dance; E \ j shall desire sons cert Ceres = sic. A brass band’ll make ye wanter} dem e inter ~ an’ an organ’ll make ye wanter | Fif'metic won" -be ‘9 gultar jes’ makes two peaple look “Oh, yes! Come discover thet ye’re ingaged ter be married, an’ goin’ in debt fur yer weddin’ clothes!” * * x A Miscondacted Experiment. “Henrietta,” said Mr. Blykins at break- fast, “‘the trouble with this country ts that too many class distincticne are growing up in it’ “I don’t see how you can help it,” his wife replied.. “Yes, Ican. I can, in my small way, pro- test against the manner in which we are forgetting the grand fraternity of man- kind; the selfishness with. which we econ- omize in politeness toward the public for the benefit of our formal acquaint- 9 ances. We are drift- ing toward danger§ all through neglect of what that genial reprobate, Laurence Sterne, so happily de- scribed as ‘the small, sweet courtegies.’ ” And as he took his hat and startea ior the door, his wife ex- claimed: “Dear me! | never should have thought eer ‘Tue first persen-he had occasion to speak to was the conductor of the street car. Business called Mr. Biykins out of town that day, and he wanted to know how long 1t_ would take him to get to the depot. “Good morning,” said he to the con- ductor; ‘The “man looked at him nervously, and raising his hand to the bell rope, ex- | claime: “itide?” “It's curt,” thought Mr. Blykins, “but it shows what he has been used to, and he will be delighted when he sees my method of addressing a man who devoies himself to the service of the public. “I thank you Kindly, sir,” he continued, aloud, “for your interest in ray welfare. I to make use of your vehicle with your ‘courteous approval of such a course on my part, umless I find that 1 have the leisure before me which will per- mit me to allow myself the hygienic benefit to be derived from walking. had occasion to inform myself as to the exact letgth of ‘time it will take me to reach the depot by means of your admir- able conveyance, and I must beg you to give me the benefit of your superior knowl- edge concerning a matter upon which I ‘ave hitherto had little cr ne occasion to eplighten myself.” The conductor turned upon him a look that was full of pain and exclaimed: “You've struck the wrong line. What you're waiting for is the "bus that goes to the asylum,” He rang the bell and started. Mr. Blykins the rail and did not let go until ed twenty feet. he panted, as he sat motonless, in danger of being run over by a coal cart. “I'd report that man to the company, if such a procceding were not so impolite.” fie reached the depot on foot, and, going to the ticket seller's window, remarked, with unimpaired affability: “Good morning. You are looking very well today.” “What can I do for you, sir?” inquired the ticket-seller, looking resentfully over his shoulder at the line of people who were waiting. “I wish to secure transportation over your splendidly equipped line. I selected this road because of the great courtesy shown travelers by its corps of intelligent and skillful employes, among whom I am sure there is none more valued than the ticket seller at this point.” With this he made a genial little bow, aes the man at the window glared and said: “Where do you want to go?” “Ah, yes: that is one of the most import- ant details. If it is perfectly convenient to you, I should like to go to Baltimore. Splen- did city, Baltimore, in many respects. It was there that occurred one of the most amusing incidents—” “Two dollars!” said the ticket seller, sharply. As he handed over a silver cer- tificate Mr. Blykins tried to beguile the railway employe into conversation on finance, but a remark in a feminine key to the effect that an unidentified person was a horrid, selfish brute, and a stentorian demand that some garrulous old party be sand-bagged made him step out to survey the long line of passengers in bland curios- ity as to the object of their displeasure. As he started through the gate, he in- quired, with the courteous circumlocution in which he was developing wonderful re- sources, where the train would be found. “On the right,” shouted the ticket-punch- er, with a gruffness which convinced Mr. Blykens that here was an object for mis- sionary work whom it would be inhuman to neglect. The delay he caused in his en- deavors to present an example of suave bonhomie, and the wrath of the gateman drew the attention of a policeman. Laying his hand on Mr. Blykins’ collar, he began to haul him out of the crowd. This was too much for that gentleman, and he made a vindictive grab for the officer's whiskers. Before he knew it he was under arrest and on the way to the station house. His en- deavors.to explain melted the mood of the officer far enough to elicit the information that he was detained for disorderly con- duct, and would probably be required to leave $ collateral. In response to a protest that he did not have quite five doliars with him, the officer grimly stated that in such a case he probably wouldn’t be expected to leave it. Luckily he met a friend, his fam- ily physician. Rushing to him with an ex- tended hand he began. “My dear docto: But he suddenly changed his manner and exclaimed: 4 » Step along here and listen to me. I want some of the ill-gotten lucre that you've amassed as a pill-peddler, and I want it quick. Five dollars is what I’m going to get from you. And you'll get it back when I get good and ready.” “Certainly, Mr. Blykins,” was the aston- ished man’s reply; “you are welcome to any assistance I can render, but I must say that your manner—” “Never you mind my manner. I feel just as badly about it as you do. But I need this money, and I’m not going to take chances on being polite to anybody.” * “Bless my soul, A Habitual Sversight. “Come y hyuh ter me,” exclaimed Pick- anirr.y Jim’s mother; “whut dat book yoh been ‘a-readin’?” “I was jes’ improvin’ my mind,” pro- tested Jim. “Dat.ar ain” no school book,” was the rejoinder in a tone of great suspicion. “Ho, mammy, yoh done gone jedged by “peurances. Yoh goes “long an’ takes hit foh granted dat hit ain’ no school book, Jes’ cause tain’ got er stiff kivver. Dat ain ‘no sign. Foh all you knows "bout it, de styles is changed.” “Lemme see it.” Jim handed it oyer promptly, relying on his mother’s lack of scholarship. _ ‘Look @t dat, now!” she exclaimed with M: dey done “be teo at dat. te I have never"| hide them in the attic. el in de fam'ly. You all's gran-pa wuck- ed or a ferry boat.” “Den in dat case I'd hab de advantago seeing whah all dem yuther sallors made dah mistakes. De trouble wif ‘em wus dat dey didn’ read dat kin’ 0° books befoh dey went ter sea, an’ dey all got kotched in ae same trap. Ef dey'd improved dah min’s, same ez I's doin’, dey'd of knowed better dan ter go down de companion way, single file, same ez dey allus does ‘an’ let de men in de cutlass one at er time. Wen I sea, dey’s gotter come up top er de. or else dar ain’ gwinter be no fight.” * ot! je deck, *“* Paths of Glory. It’s mighty difficult, Jes’ now, fur any one ter frame A clear idee of what exackly goes ter make up fame. I seen a feller’s picter; "twasn’ handsome face! But they'd marked it “advertisement,” an’ it had the leadin’ place. They'd wrote up his biography ez careful ez they could; They even stopped ter name the medicine thet done him good! "Twas no wonder thet his features wore a self-approvin’ laugh, Like he felt his future greatness when they tuck his phortygraph. sech @ There was another, way down in a corner of the page, Where this man claimed yer notice ez a hero of the age. I purty nearly missed it, ‘catise my eye- sight’s ruther dim, An’ I wusn’t lookin’ out fur no big people, *ceptin’ him. I could hardly trust my come ter scan it close, An’ discovered "twas a bigger man than him ez tuck the dose. An’ the more I thought about it all, the more it hurt my pride Ter find it was the President—an’ je: column wide! ses when I So now I tell my boy ter go ahead an’ not despair; Though he may not see success, it's Ikely waitin’ fur ‘im ther In the glowin’, generous future, which is full of hopefuiness Fur them ez is content ter use the talents they possess, And ef he finds he ain't got eddication ez he should, ‘im ter keep heart ez long ez his digestion’s good. Ez a scholar an’ a statesman, though his mark he never makes, He may still, perhaps, be famous fur tho medicine he takes. > HOME MANAGEMENT. Hoply’s Wife is a Treasure, but He Does Not Seem to Profit by Her. Frem the Detroit Free Press. “They tell me, Hoply, that your wife is a great business woman and knows just how to stop the leaks that occur in most house- helds. At our place the folks are always getting things that don’t fit or that are disappointing in some other way. But in- stead of realizing something for them, they throw them away, give them away or How does Mrs. Hoply manage?” “Well, this is what she was telling me last night. One of my daughters, who be- lieves everything that she reads, bought a pair of heavy shoes for outdoor wear. She Was bent on being sensible and healthy. They made her feet sore, wore out the heels of her stockings ard caused her such utter weariness that she talked in her sleep. Of course, it would not do to continue such torture, so my wife sold the shoes for 75 per cent of their cost.” “Good! That's what I call management.” “Mrs. Hoply found a remnant that was of just the material she wanted for a wrapper, bought it and had the garment made. It pulled and hauled and bound till she was almost distracted, and there was no more goods of the same kind to be had in order to remedy the defect. She sold it to the second gir: at a reasonable discount. I might tell you half a dozen like instances in which she disposed of all kids of things, from hats ‘to cook stoves.” “Good again! Such a woman is a treas- ure.’ ‘There's one thing I should tell you, how- ever. She never collects a cent for’ these things. Not a doggone cent. The washer- woman quits, The second girl leaves with- out rotice. The man that carries in coal buys a stove and we never see him again, She sells everything, but we get nothing.” ———-+e--— A PRETTY TOUGH SKULL. Mr. Bronson Was Hit With a Rifle Ball, but It Was Only a Trifle. From the Paducah News. Rufe Bronson, colored, recently drove be- low the I. C. incline to dump a load of trash in the river. About the same time Captain Newt. Roberts, the well-known steamboat man, repaired to the bottoms on the north side to try a new Winchester of thirty-eight caliber, Just as Captain Robert drew a head on a stalk of ironwood and pulled a trigger, Rufe moved into range from behind a gravel bank about 275 feet away. There was a crack from the rifle and an exclamation from Rufe. The heavy ball had hit him on the forehead, somewhat above the eyes, with all the force of a heavy charge of powder. The negro did not even fall down. He wiped his brow with an old handkerchief and drove on toward the river bank. The morning after he told a reporter about it. “Yissir, somethin’ hit me in der head, and den I heard a gun go off. At fus’ I thought a hornet had stung me. It felt kinder that id you fali down, Rufe?” “Naw, sir; but de bullet sort of pushed my head over ter one side, but dat uz all. Dis mornin’ my head kinder ached a leetle, but I’se been workin’ all day. My head's peeled a leetle bit and skinned up, but not "nuff ter hurt. From the Fourth Estate. Dresden, one of the German capitals, owns a sirgular piece of property, though one most admirably managed; it is a morn- ing newspaper,the Dresdener Angeiger. This daily, upon the death of its last proprietor, was willed to the city upon the condi- tion that all profits arising therefrom should be spent upon the public parks. This year a large playground of nearly eight acres was purchased from Prince George, the king’s brother and heir ap- parent, and it will be ready for use next spring. The paper continues to hold the respect of ali citizens, for the trust has been cerried out in its broadest spirit, and the power has never been employed to foster any school of opinions--social, po- litical or religious. Timely Arrival. From the Cincinnati Enquirer. They had mourned him as dead, but, Mke Enoch Arden—or the cat—he had come back. His little wife sat on his knee, the joy shining in her eyes. s “And are you really glad I came back? he asked. “Glad?” said she. “Glad? I had just made up my mind to don a widow's outfit, but there was the loveliest picture hat, with bright ribbons all over it in spots, that I have been longing for, and now I can get it. Glad!” ———_+0-+____ A Distinction. From Lerper's Berar, “Shall I tell the doctor a patient is wait- ing?” ii. ‘tell the doctor an impatient is wait: