Evening Star Newspaper, March 13, 1897, Page 14

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 13, 1897-24 PAGES.” for The Evehing Star. to The fish that ¢ the lower Pot dealer ar reporter, sold in the only 3 in early the changed now, fish in t or not, for o uth, i alre fost as they ere ne Au and it matters not whether » Potomac will come up early w comes from the re coming in as de The Potomac shad and herring,except a_ few now and then, will y begin to arrive until April. In the he in mac the r supply n ly they hare meantime elezant shad are obtainable from North Carolina fart south. They are caref » crushed ice ey arrive as if in the Potomac. ever, have a flavor about them that make them much more pelatable, than the fish from any south- ern river or bay, 4 while North Carolin: shad are good enovzh to fill in they sell at all when the Potomac fish are on sale. There is no river or water where herring grow tn such large numbers or are so toothsome as those which are seined in the Potomac.” =e et and are as fre they were but just The Potomac shad, “IT have hear quite a number of stories ef mediums, but one came to me a few days ago,” said a lawyer to The Star re- porter, “which takes the pastry as far as I have heard. It appears a young man, who is engaged in business in this city, during the past winter began an investigation into m. connected with spiritualism. He made a number of calis upon a medium, who, in this case, is a married woman. In manner the medium ascertained that ti for some reason declined to live with his e. With this knowledge the medium be- gan to get information from the spiritual world for the young man and for which ers some she charged him $1 per sitting. After he had paid her about $20 for seances the medium got information from her ‘control’ that it was the duty of the young man to vorce from his wife. The in- o directed that he should se- ervices of a particular lawyer, husband of the medium. He paid more fees, though the tion has not yet been filed, for the that the young man has no legal ef his wife's untaithfulness, © has any quantity of spiritual which, however, does not play © part in the courts. informed by the med- who dia ap reasoi though evidence any very stron the young ma jum that he should at the residence of the medium, and t she had spiritual authority from the young man’s grandmother, whe is long since dead, so directing hi he demurred to is the so, and mecium’s house, to pay a rather deserted wife nd employed me nto the was compelled for the same in some way, rc her interes I to see the medium, band, who 1 to be a iawyer, and th young 1 next the young man knew and her husband the g the young man house for Febru- H have to pay. ars in other Dan Stuart promises that the ladies who | buy seats to witness the fight between Cor- and Fitzsimmons at Carson City, Nev., protected while they are observed an old newspaper writer Star reporter, “and from my at such an affair, I think it is safe fully tu say he will be as good as his word. No rt, however hard, will dare to do any- that nt that art does want, for the very good reason that it be terribly ursafe to do so, and they kuow it full well. A good many years I was sent ago, to write up th a prominent newspaper Collyer-Aaron fight down t otomac. It was my first experience at such a gathering, and I was a trifle ner- vous wren I found myself at the side of the ring. There were a half dozen other newspaper writers present, all of whom | were provided with seats on the lower row of a tier not unlike tion stands, though semi-circular in form. Above us were seated some toughs from Baltimore and Philadelphia, who were very gh. They amused themselves by throw- § cigar stumps and other things down on heads and on the board which served our table on which to write. The late Hurdle and Jack Rooney of the ad we nagers of the fight, appealed to them for protection. Hurdle. who was up to his neck to the details of the fight outside . announced that the newspaper writers were his guests, and all gentlemen must govern themselves accordingly, or he 1 know the reason why. This secured duct from the toughs, but finaHy them threw another clgar stump tabl This Jack Rooney ek as a flash he jumped into a and drawing out of his pock« old . he looked up toward the toughs said, “If any gentle- repeats that noot him as sure as we rley rm e is Rooney.” He spoke as if he Anyhow. that was the end of ance, and for the remainder of fight the best of order was maintained. The fellows who follow prize fights have the most sincere regard for the managers of ‘onsequently anything | br by Dan Stuart is al- wost certain t rnished.”” ‘boys’ who went to school to the tr Jon Thomson in this eclty, if mbled, would make, in numbers, a half dozen or more reg: t# one thousand 1 one of the committee en- ument on his grave. “They all ages, from sixteen to sixty, and among them we have ascertained the names ast thirty ar are of of at who ef age. They are scattered all over the United States, though, of course, the larger umber rende in this city. Though the committe secured a ge number of young man had been married, but | Next | take rooms and board } sented and moved | ome of the Inaugura- | over fifty years | names of and their > will take to a full ation sev- rv of which sropriate. If ever a schcol teach- “The dairy by omery cou tles of Maryland urbs of We akee, the 1, in ness is growing in Mon ed, in other ¢ nd in the outlying sub- n.”? said Mr. W. E. Man- Siiver Spring, stion of The Star zrowing demand for 1 butter, and our people are themselves to supply it, by in- sing their herds of cow nd extending their dairies. 1 know whereof I speak, for | my own books show that during the past | month I soid nearly one thousand dollars’ ing feed de orth more of bran and other cow feed | than I did during February last year. | Hereto‘ore much of the butter soid in Washington came from Pennsylvania and Ohio and cther western states, and Mary- | land fermers are competing for this bus | ness with much encouragement. Several! of the lerze hotels in Washington now serve gomery county but- ter. The milk business runs up to thou- sands of gallons per day delivered fresh morning and evening. Much of it, of course, is sent in by the railroad, but of the quantity sent in by wagon is in- idty. The herds are im- = in quality as well as in numbers. | Distance being in their favor, I am_ sure | the growth of the mi!k business will be | maintained.” \ | | | | * e eK OK “I had an experience recently with car- rier pigeons,” remarked a physician to a Star reporter, “which convinced me that they can at times, at Jeast, be used to great advantage. A patient of mine, an old lady, who is a relative as well, resides out in the country ten miles from the city. Ordi- narily it is easy enough to drive out to e her occasionally, but during the rainy spell the roads are bad and driving is any- thing but pleasant. On one ef my recent trips ont here. I took three of my carrier eons With me and left them there. They mt one back each day, and kept me ad- sed of her condition. At the same time | I was there I brought in three carrier pig- eons, which belonged there. I not only got word from my patient by my own pigeons, but with two of the pigeons I sent back I | sent the medicine that I desired the pa- | tient to use. | hehe | Speaking of ex-Serator Dolph of Oregon, an employe of the Senate told a Star re- porter: “Senator Dolph was a very peculiar mar: in many zespects and one of his pe- culiaritles was that he seldom, if ever, asked any one about the Senate to do any- thing for him. He did nearly all of his clerical work himself and besides ran his own erra through the departments While he was chairman of the committee on sea coast defenses of the Senate, a com- mittee, however, which seldom met, he conducted a schooi in his committee room, his pupils being iis two younger sons. He | tanght his boys two hours each day, one | hour before and one hour after lunch. He j had an idea that his boys learned much taught them himself than faster when they did at the schools to which he had isted almost | sent them. His curriculum cor entirely of history and geography. The j only reading they had was reading these | books. He taught arithmetic by the aid oi a blackboard alone, dicarding the book.” | ** * * M. Wilson, now chief of en- said an old resident the other je proves the old saying, ‘Like boy, like jan,’ for he was quite a military lad when in his ieens, and right nere in Wash- ington. We had sevcial military compan- ies composed of boys. The late Gen. ‘Billy’ Laselle commanded ore of them, and if I | em not mistaken, Gen. Wilson was a lieu- | one. Quite a proportion of them | gineers, tenant in found their way into the service during the war, id on both sic Rk ROK An old minister, well known in this vicin- ity, tells the following story on one of his fellow preachers (now in Washington), who in his young days possessed a stentorian veiee, made famous at many a ¢: mp meet- jing. Thirty years ago a farmer of Mont- | kcmery county, in driving his team from Waskington to his home, fifteen miles dis- tant, fell from: his horse. Falling on a bridge, about fifteen feet high, a wheel struck his body in such a way that he was rolled off to the rocks below, where he was -und some hours after, with a skull fear- | fully broken. He was carefully removed to | his home, and under a physician's care he was able to resume his work; but the fras- iments of the skull had so knitted that the | bead had somewhat the appearance of a relief map of Switzerland, and to hide this deformity ever after he wore his hat, ex- cept when in bed. He had frequents at- | tacks of the headache, and it was only | hecessary for him to hear a loud noise to | bring on a severe spell of his ailment. A | Methodist church adjoined his farm, and | he had been a regular attendant, out after | the accident he gave up going to meeting, | because he sald the people could not take their eyes from his head, whether he wore his hat or went bareheaded. His family daughters especially—were regular atten- dents on church service, and Sunday morn- ings he usually kept house when the fam- ily were at church, and was quite content obtain his spiritual refreshment second- hand It so happened that tended a camp meeting, and had heard and met my friend with a voic they had so talked of him that when, the following conference, his. nam peared as the junior preacher on that the daughters at- there and at cuit the people were more than usually pleased. The old man of mountainous lead for once determined to see and hear nim on the first opportunity. The first | Sunday the preacher walked in the church he found difficulty in reaching the pulpit, for the building was crowded from far and hear. The old man had taken a seat under | the gallery, that the oddity of wearing a hat in church should be noticed as little as possible. The services progressed quite satisfactorily to the old man antil the min- ister warmed up in his sermon, and his voice thundered out his thoughis on the text. Then the old man rose, and placing his hands over his ears, worked his way out and walked to bis home, some 250 yards distant. # “What's the “matter, pap?” asked the wife, when he reached’ the door. “Matter!” he replied. “Why didn't you tell me about his voice, and I then would | have sat here and heard every word. Now jhe has given me the worst headache L Katy—“Sheriff Brady is a man after me own heart.” “He's not after it half so hard as I am."—Life. ae ever had in my life. I'll never hear him again,” and he didn’t. xe KORE “T don’t know that I was ever more sur- prised,” remarked a young man, who had Just returned from a business trip of a few hundred miles, “than when I heard of some recent weddings in the west. Between thinking and laughing about them I have spent some time. At one they told me (and assured me that it was a fact), that be- sides the u 1 floral decorations, a design represent he ‘Gates A. so common t funerals, scupied a prominent place in the church. They tried to explain that the meaning intended to be conveyed was the unselfish groom's idea that the angelic bride came from paradise, and left the gate n for others to follow. The cus | attendant bearing the weddi upon a pillow at the nuptial but when was fcliowed at another wedding the people observed that the pillow bore the rd ‘Rest’ there were smiles. Some, who claimed to know the parties, insinu- sd that {t would have been better if the n had heen a real funeral. for when they were man and wife there would be no rest for them.’ —- HANNA’S DIPLOMACY. the New Senator Headed Off a Delegution Without Offense. An incident which occurred in the Senate the other day is a specimen of the diplo- macy of Senator Hanna. Immediately #fter the Senate had adjourned Mr. Hanna, being as yet without a committee room in which to receive his friends, greeted them on the floor of the Senate. While several senators were introducing a number of friends to the national re- publican chairman, a delegation of Ohioans, who were here to attend the inauguration, were waiting to “put in a good word,” as one of them stated, for some friend for office before they left for home. Finally their turn came and Mr. Hanna recognized thern immediately. Each was given a cordial handshake and a pleasant word, but nobody got even the shadow of a chance to “put in that good word.” Mr. Hanna talked incessantly, for he was evi- dently expecting something of the kind. After greeting each of them in turn, the senator diplomatically slipped over to the desk of a senatorial colleague and began an earnest confidential talk with him. The Ohioans retired to u corner of the chamber for a conference. They could not he offerced, for the national chairman had been very cordial and amiable, but they couldn't understand the situation, and hav- ing failed to perform what they came for thought it their own fault. It was decided that as they were to leave the city shortly they would communicate with Mr. Hanna in writing at some future time. Several southern senators on the demo- cratic side of the Senate chamber, who were detained by thelr correspondence, and who were aware of what was going on, lzughed heartily at the incident. MARK How OLD-TIME SAND MAN. A Figure and a Business That Have Wholly Disappeared. Here's your white sand, black sand, White sand, White sand and black sand, Now, here's your white sand, Black sand m-a-n! Such were the words sung by the melo- dious voices of a few robust colored men through the streets of Washington half a century ago; but the sand man and his business have entirely disappeared, for no longer the market exists for the material. The white sand was then used for scrub- bing purposes and sanding floors, and the black sand for use oh manuscript to dry the ink. While large quantities were used in the departments, many stores and offices, as well as families, were the con- sumers, and in some families sand boxes are handed down to the grandchildren to remind them of the days of the old quill THE pen. These men, with horse and cart,would ay in the morning appear with a few Du s of white sand, and possibly a peck of the black material, and for a few hours they would ery it through the streets, sell- ing by the peck, quart and pint—a’ levy (i2tz cents) per quart for the white and often 25 cents per pint for the black. Now scrubbing soap has almost entirely super- ceded the white material, and blotting Paper has driven the black sand out of the market. —_+——_ ONLY A MAGICIANS ACT. Yet It Frightened » Young Farmer Into Insanity and Gray Hairs. Fre mt he Detroit Tribune. John M. Woodiey is the name of a young farmer who lives in Sandwich South. One week ago he was strong and healthy, with a mind considerably above the intellects of kis associates. Today he is little better than a physical wreck. His hair, which was black as a raven’s wing, 4s already turning gray. On Tuesday last Woodley, who is about twenty-four years old, was commissioned by his father to go to Windsor and attend to some business. After doing this, the young man thought he would cross over to Detroit and see the sights. He wandered around for a time and finally drifted into Wonderland to witness the afternoon per- formance. Among other attractions on the bills was a prestidigitateur, who, after performing several seemingly impossible feats, ended up by decapitating a man. The trick is cleverly done, and to the uninitiated is startling In its suggestiveness. Woodley sat unmoved throughout the performance until the last act on the program—that of decapitation, was reached. As the conjurer, after stating what he was about to do, started making his prepa- rations, the young man began to display considerable uneasiness. He shifted in his seat aad glanced about him nervously. At last all was ready and with one sweep of his big, keen-bladed knife, the magician ap- parently severed his victim's head from his holding it out in plain view of the au- The trick is an old one and beyond a little applause and a few nervous “Oh’'s” from the timid ones, nothing was thought of it, the whole being a bit of clever delu- sion. Woodley, however, had never seen the feat before, and imagined that some terri- ble blunder had been committed. He sprang to his feet and rushed from the hall just us the curtain was falling. His fase was ghastly pale and his eyes seemed to start from their sockets. How he reached home he cannot explain, but a few hours after- ward he staggered Into his father’s house. All attempts to obtain from him an e planation are fruitless except that he peats over and over in a jangle the words, “They cut off his head; they killed bim, I know they killed him,” and then he covers his face with his hands as though to shut out some horrible nightmare and relapses into a morose state, from whi he is with difficulty aroused. His family at once began ‘nquiries and soon learned just what had befallen him. It is supposed that the shock cf seeing what he imagined to be a gemiae cecapi- tation was too much for him, and so turned his brain. The unfortunate man is anmar- ried and fives with his parenis, who are comparatively well-to-do farmers. es The Corpse Spoke Up. From the New York World. One of the most useful functionaries of the Long Island College Hospital in Brook- lyn is “Billy,” the janitor. Attendance at clinics and operations for many years has ven the ancient servitor some acquaint- ance with practical surgery. In an emergency he has been known to perform operations himself. But with all his acquired science “Billy” is stil! super- stitious. In the operating room yesterday he was engaged in removing from pine coffins some “new material” that had just been received from the morguc. As he was opening the lid a sepulchral voice seemed to come from the interior of the coffin and say ‘Let me out. Let me ou The janitor dropped his hammer and ran in terror from the room. He said he had seen an eye move as the words were ut- tered. z It was only after “Billy’’ had deliberately considered the number of students in the apartment and the slim chance any ordi- nary ghost would have in the presence of so many living men that he would consent to return. “Sure, I never thought that a corpse so cold as that would be talking so manlike. I should suppose he would be dead,” said the janitor. “Billy” does not know that Studént Hall end his chum are ventriloquists. “Want” ads. in The Star pay because they bring answers. DISAPPEARANCE OF DOC BINKINS. ‘9 ea Se Written Exclusively far The Evening Star. The following'‘aré the facts in the case of the disappeatance of Doc Dinkins, as re- lated by my friend David Johnson. The way in which I came to hear the tale was as follows: Last summer I revisited the scenes of my éhildhood at Massieville, Ohio, and on g rainy afternoon walked over to the stoge. Although the:stove at the end of the room had given dut no heat for many months and was red with rust, a choice coliection of village and farm folks were seated about it. Blue overalls, brown and red and white checked shirts, large straw hats and calfskin boots were the prevail- ing articles of attire, A place was made for me, and George Page asked sotto voce whether Johnson had told me about Doc Dinkins. I replied that I had never heard the history of the doctor. “Well, you don’t want to either. Ef old Johnson gets started you won't have any peace until he tells you about Doc Din- kins. Everybody around here is tired of his tale an’ won't listen to him any more on any account after_ he has related of it four or five times. But you're a stranger, you see, an’ he’s kinder got a hold on you, but ef I was you I'd jest simply swear 1 wouldn't listen to him. He's got his eye on you now an’ is gettin’ uneasy,” he con- cluded. I glanced over in the direction indicated. Old Johnson was a farmer of the funereal type, lank and wiry; hair tron gray; eve: gray; whiskers of the kind used in min ‘strel jokes. His eye was set hard upon me and ‘the tobacco was nervously passed from one side of his mouth to the other. In liew of a cuspider, ke bit the knot hole with a precisioa acquired by practice, and did you ever hear about Doc Din- I made no reply, pretending not to un- derstand that his inquiry was addressed to me. “I say,” he repeated in a louder tone, “did you ever hear about Doc Dinkins? There was no escape and I replied that I believed T had heard of him. “No, no,” said Johnson quickly, fearful of being cheated out of his prey; “no, you never heard about Doc Dinkins, but I'll tell you though,” and a look of satisfaction crept over his solemn countenance. ‘What did I tell you?” said George Page, with disgust. “Now, we have to listen to that old addle-headed ijit drivel along through that story agin’. They ought to be a law agin’ it.” Then the funereal “Well, I was goin’ Doc Dinkins came old person begai to tell you how to leave this part of the country. Old man Smoot was alive then. He had always been a lazy man an‘ healthy, till one day he cut his toe with a scythe an’ Fad to stay in th house until he recovered. He found it was so easy an’ comfortable to loaf around that he took a fancy to it an’ so after his toe was well he would pretend to have colic an’ Influenza, an’ gout an’ appendicitis an’ heart disease—anything, you understand, go as to be compelled to take a rest an’ let other folks provide for him. “Doe Dinkins was really a hoss doctor an’ treated all the sick cows an’ hosses in the neighborhood, an’ also old Smoot. He didn’t Know much about taking care of a man an’ had sense enough to give him only harmless things. One night old Smoot thought it was about time to have another attack of something so he wouldn't have to go to work; so that night he sald he had the colic bad. Mrs. Smoot sent Sam off in a hurry for Doc’ Dinkins to get something for him. It was late at night—about 1 o’clock—an’ Sam‘ rapped on the doc’s door until he woke. Doc stuck his head out of the window an’ asked what was the trou)! Sam told him that'his old man had thing wrong with his stomach. Doe w: all the way awake an’ so he said: “Oh, yes, I know; he’s been cating too muek green stuff. I'l give you somethin for him,’ and he gave Sam a brown bo! ome- sn’t Te of horse medicine. You see, he thought Sam s talking about a horse he had been attending that day. ““If he don’t:like to take it,’ he say. ‘why just stick a corncob in the side of h mouth an’ hold- back his head an’ pour it down. After that,” says this chuck- le-headed person—after that give him a, bed of clean siraw an’ in the morning feed him a bucket ee bran mixed with hot water— nothing else. Don't let hii around tomorrow.’ ee ee “But he didn’t bave any need of calli around, ‘cause old Smoot came “What sick pa?’ bi 9 to see him. lid he give ycu for your poor ys Mrs. Smoot when Sam came This bottle," Sam told her, ‘an’ he must drink it all, an’ if he don’t like It to stuff a Gora cob in his mouth.” Seems kinder harsh,’ says th 7 ‘an what else did he say?) '® O14 lady, {iWhy, to sive him a bed of clean straw.’ “‘What?" says Mrs. Smoot. = “Clean straw,’ says Sam; ‘an’ in the morning feed him some hot bran an’ water an’ don’t let him out until the doc comes around to see him.’ “They were both simple-minded folks— Sam an’ his mother—an’ while it seemed unusual she thought the doc knew bes “Yes, says the old lady, shaking her head very wise, ‘it seems ‘kinder harsh, but the doc knows best. Sammy,’ she ys Kinder what you call apprehensive, we're going to have a devil of a time doctoring your poor sick pa.’ “Well, old Smoot was groaning and pre- tending he was sick, an’ expected to get some harmless kind of sweet tasting stuff, an’ they went an’ gave him a drink out of the bottle. It disgusted him, an’ he said he wouldn’t take another drop. Said he felt a blame sight better, an’ thought he was on the high road to recovery an’ didn't need any more medicine. 'No,” says the oid lady, ‘you look flush- ed,’ the horse medicine was liable to make a man look flushed. ‘No,’ says she ‘you must take it all,” and she sent Sammy for the corncob. Sam went out to the barn an’ got one. The old man swore an’ raved, but they stuck it in his mouth to hold it open an’ held him down while he swallow- ed the medicine. It made him wild, but Mrs. Smoot was very patient an’ persever- ing an’ held him down while Sam got some clean straw an’ took his bed clothes away. Old Smoot thought they had gone clean crazy an’ was in mortal dread that they would lynch him or burn him at the stake next. So he kep’ quiet—as quiet as he could after drinking the hoss medicine— so's not to irritate them. “After they had given him some nice, clean straw they locked him in, an’ as there wasn't any window in the room they thought that he would be there when the doc came. They do say he behaved scan- dalous, an’ walked up an’ down an’ swore an’ pounded on the wall, an’ begged, an’ howled, an’ prayed, an’ cussed until the old woman an’ Sam thought’ he'd gone crazy. By the time morning came he was hungry as a wolf, an’ begged very meekly for something to eat. Thea they got the bran an’ hot water and shoved it in the dcor. He broke loose again and whooped up things at a great rate. “It's for your own good, dear,’ says the old lady, soothingly, through the keyhole. “<What's for my own good,’ says he. “Why the bran,’ says she. “Who said sox’ he asked. “‘Why, Doc Dinkins,’ Mrs. him. © “After that he didn’t say anything, but they heard a rippinj, noise. He was pulling out the side of; house an’ rippin’ off the clap-boards.,,Vfell, he got out an’ went to Crocker’s ant told Mrs. Crocker very calmly an’ quiejly,,that he would lke to borrow the shotgun—to hunt squirrels, he said—an’ then hunjed up some rusty nails he says Smoot told an’ broken glasy .4n’ pieces of rock for ammunition. Then he started to call on the doc. “Sam found out what he was after an’ told the doc hig, 91 man was lookin’ for hii ‘what for? igaulres the doc. ‘Givin’ him tga};medicine an’ straw an’ bran,’ says Sam,; “Great Scott,’ says the doc, an’ lit out.” Gea J.T. W. SaaS ahaa) A Goed Plan, From Puck. ° Dobson— side of this umbrell: Hobson—“Do you think that will prevent any one from stealing it?’ Dobson—“Well, if the fellow who owned this umbrella before I did had had his name painted inside I don’t believe I would have had the nerve to swipe it. re In Dollars or —? From the Cincinnati Tribune, Said Bagsley—‘I hear that Newdule sold himself. to the rich girl there by his side. ‘Wonder how much he got?” Said Jawkins, as the handsome heiress moved awa: “T should say a pretty good figure.” : “A HARTFORD LAWYER.” Lincoln’s Jest at the Expense of Gideon Welles. “There is a story going the rounds,” says an old observer, “that does injustice to the memories of President Lincoln and hi Secretary of the Navy, Gideon Welles. Ac- cording to the story. Mr. Lincoln being asked why he had selected Mr. Welles as Secretary of the Navy when he was only a Hartford lawyer, replied by asking, ‘What else are they good for? referring to Mr. Welles’ predecessor, Mr. Toucey hav- ing been a Hartford lawyer. The infer- ence from the story is that Mr. Lincoln supposed as Mr. Toucey, a Hartford law- yer, had filled the place, another Hartford lawyer could also fill it. Mr. Welles was, however, better known to Mr. Lincoln than the public were aware, for when Mr. Lin- coln was in Congress, Mr. Welles was at the head of the bureau of provisions and clothing of the Navy Department, and at this time it will be remembered the Mex!- can war was begun and carried on. Mr. Lincoln, when he became President, found Mr. Welles, ‘a Hartford lawyer,’ equipped with full experience in supervising the feeding and clothing of the jack-a-tars of the navy, experience which would serve him well as the head of the department. Though of opposite politics during Mr. Polk's administration, the whig party had left Mr. Lincoln, and Mr. Welles had left the democratic party. They were then of the same political faith, and Mr. Lincoln selected him. The wisdom of Mr. Lincoin’s choice is seen in the fact that Mr. Welles administered the department in such a sat- is factory manner during the war that he served through two administrations, and with Secretary Seward served the longest continuous secretaryshlp since the days of Madison.” —_+—_—__ WINNING THEIR WAY. What Some Energetic, Independent Girls Are Doing for a Living. From Harper's Bazar: ‘There are three girls in town who have an idea of doing something for a living. It is a perfect craze now among young women who want to increase their incomes—or make incomes for themselves, rather—to go to work, and what a blessed thing it is vhen they are capable of so doing. These girls have realized for a long time the necessity of some place where one could send a skirt to be freshly bound in a short space of time. So they are thinking seri- ously of starting a “Skirt-binding Assecia- tion, Limited.” Their plan is to take a rcom and, commence by doing the work themselves. They propose to send out cards to all their friends, announcing that any skirt sent to them will be cleaned, brushed, refaced and rebound for the small sum of one dollar, and returned the same day. For instance, if you send your skirt to them at 9 o'clock in the morning, soiled, braid worn out, and in a generally disre- putable condition, you may have it back again in time for the afternoon. What a beon it will be if they are able to carry out their intentions! Of course, as is always the case in such ventures, a certain amount of capital is necessary, and the girls do not want to run any great risks, not being sure of success. Even if they start with no workwoman to help them, they must pay a month's rent in advance, and employ a little girl to “fetch and carry’ for them. They need encouragement, and every one who knows them hopes they will get it. Sull another girl is going into trade, or hopes to, rather. She lives in the country, not many miles from town, and she is try- ing to induce her father to invest In an in- cubator for her, and her great desire is to raise spring chickens for private sale. She is working to get orders now from her circle of acquaintances, and if she manages 16 get erough to warrant a start, perhaps she may be able to induce her father to buy the incubator for her. She wants orders from families to supply them twice a week, so her friends must all be very fond of chicken, or else she will not succeed. But who <ioes not like really good spring chick- eps, if they are more than skin and bone? Incubator chickens are sad little things, Diouet However, they may taste just as good. Economy of Time tn Teaching. Dr. 3. M. in the Forum. The fundamental points in the :ime ciement in teaching to which I shall direct particu- lar attention are: The limits of incidental instruction, the influence of fatigue, and the question of mental maturity. Of these fac- tors that of incidental teaching is, under existing conditions, perhaps the most im- portant. About 70 per cent of the time in some of our schools being devoted to uke formal branches, a radical change would be effected if the forms of expression—reading, spelling, penmanship, grammar, and lan- guage—were taught as incidental features. Indeed, much would be gained if resulis should prove that the formal stugies can be subordinated, even though to a limited ex- tent only, to the content studies. The pos- sibility of incidental instruction depends upon whether we are able to do more than one thing well at a time. If so, some men- tal labor must necessarily be performed by subordinate states of attention or conscious- hess, and the practicability of incidental in- struction will depend upon whether such can be utilized in teaching. That the per- formance of more than one act at a time is hot only possible, but under certain condi- tions inevitable, is clearly shown by the fact that in writing a composition it is necessary to attend simultaneously to at least four distinct elements—thought, lan- guage, spelling and penmanship. To what extent incidental instruction may be car- ried can be discovered only by a study of results. he possibilities of incidental in- struction are not limited to the formal studies, but extend to the content studies as well. In the latter, however, the ground covered in the different schools varies so markedly that we are unable to formulate tests which will lead to the comparative study of results. Investigation in the con- tent studies will not be fruitful, therefore, until our goals are more definite and our notions clearer in regard to what results in these branches may be regarded as satis- factory. Moreover, as most of the time in the mechanical schools is devoted to the formal branches, incidental instruction in the content studies is a less urgent prob- lem, at least for the present, than it is in the case of the formal ones. Sag In the Swim. the Boston Courter. “Bill, why do they speak of you as a fishy fellow, I wonder?” “Wall, I s'pose it's "coz I'm always cod- Ging somebody.” His Fads. From the Chicago Record. “Last year Mr. Giglamps used to be al- ways smuggling home valuable books he had bought without his wife's knowledge.” “Doesn't he de so yet?” “No; now he smuggles in expensive at- tachments for his wheel.” oo A Damper. From Punch. Chatty barber—‘‘’Ow would you like to be shaved, sir?" Grumpy customer—“In perfect silence, Flease.”” YY = PHILANDE! JOHNSON: Written Exclusive i He had shut y for The Evening ror Stricken, the door with a slam as he emerged from his home, and those who passed noticed that his face was very red. his necktie awry, and that he was chewing his mustache briskly. He purchased ine paper which the newsboy shoved at him, and, when he was seated in the street car, began to read. An item on one of the inner pages arrested his attention, and he became | visibly excited. He gave a quick glance out of the window and rang the bell. In a few minutes he was at the residence, near by, of a member of Congress. “Look here,” said the caller, when the statesman appeared, “in the interests of humanity you've got to do something. You must thrust aside self-interest and personal Prejudice and let your higher nature assurt {tself. You've simply got to head it off.” “Head what off?” inquired the congress- man. “The war in Europe.” “Why, I have nothing to do with that. ‘You musi have something to do with it. It's a vital necessity! “It seems to me that your mind a great deal. “About what?” “The European situation. You said the other day that war is an inevitable incident of human progress. You even expressed some doubts as to whether civilization would ever reach a point where war might not occur.” “I know that. But what I had reference to was war: simple, ordinary war. I hadn't realized, until I read this paper, that most of the monarchs of Europe are relations.” “What has that to do with it?” “Everything. As I said, I can stand war: but if this European crisis is going to de- velop a famliy quarrel, it’s time for some Lroad-minded man to fling himself into the breach and circulate petitions and get up a general protest. you have changed * * A Modern Product. T's grindin’ de nicks f'um my razzer blade, An’ I combs my ha’h down tight, "Case I's gwineter be in de promenade Dat dey holds nex’ Friday night. Dah’'s a new policeman on dat beat, An’ he doesn’ know de number nor de small back street Whah dey sent de invitation dat you don’ dare snub Ter de parlor social o' degPrimrose Club. I were born as bad ez I kin be An’ I keeps on gittin’ worse. Ef you's comin’ foh de plaisure of a 'spute wif me You mus’ bring yoh private hearse. Yoh pays ten cents ’foh dey lets you in; An’ it's blackberry brandy an’ it’s likewise gin Whah de dipper is a hangin’ by er big wash tub At de parlor social o° de Primrose Club. Mer granpaw sing "bout de banjo string An’ de ‘possum in de tree; An’ de way he'd cut dat pigeon wing Ef he only wus young like me. But, "mongst cullud folks, I's ‘bliged ter state, Dat my granpaw, he’s clean out 0’ dat An’ he wouldn’ be nuffin’ but er way-back scrub At a parlor social o' de Primrose Club. * * * Afrnid of Himself. A slim, middle-aged man, with’ a new bi- cycle suit, had stood for an hour in fr: of the Emergency Hospital. Every now and and then he wiped his eye- glasses and gazed at the building. Taking his handkerchief he carefully dusted cff a place on the curb stone and sat down. His persistent watching attracted the attention of one of the attaches of the institution, who went out to inquire his_ business. “This is the Emer- gency Hospital, isn’t it? said the stranger. 3.” “And it’s likely that the ambulance wilh 0 out before very long, is it not?” It’s Mable to go out at any minute. But you can’t go riding around in it merely for fun.” “Oh, I don’t want to ride in it. But I want to be on the safe side. The truth of the matter is that I have a reckless na- ture, and I have to curb it. Mother always said I was foolhardy, and my wife is con- stantly telling me that if I were allowed to go ahead and do as I please, I'd be a perfect dare-devil. So, knowing my own disposition as I do, there is nothing left except for me to observe extraordinary Precaution. I’ve had my fourth lesson cn the bicycle, and I’m going out on the street for the first time this afternoon. I haven't any particular route laid out, and I always like to see things done just as promptly and with as little commotion as Possible. What I propose to do is to follow the ambulance around wherever it goes, and if I happen to need it, it'll be right there, handy. I will be spared all needless delay, and the driver will not be put to the inconvenience of an extra trip, to say noth- ing of the wear and tear that we'll save on the telephone.’ * * * A Faithfal Partisa When another day is ending— One more, sadly like them all— And the western tints are blending O'er the shadows, as they fall, Eyes grown dim, like fading embers, As he steps inside the gate, Gleam again, for he remembers That the baby thinks he’s great. In the busy world’s commotion Few have paused to call his name; Yet this wee one's fond devotion Speaks with praise more sweet than fame. Cares he long since thought to banish Still may lurk, though life grows late; Foes may smile and friends may vanish, But the baby thinks he’s great. Time, in silence, as it passes Many a hero puts to rout; Older lads and wiser lasses Loving still, have learned to doubt. Yet, how weil ‘tis worth deserving, Worth another stand ‘gainst fate, Loyalty like this, unswerving— For the baby thinks he’s great. * * * Luck at Last. In spite of the faultless manner in which he wears a silk hat and other garments to correspond he is well known to the police, especially to the officers who have been active in enforcing the laws against the games of chance. At a time when his occu- pation was less urder the ban in this city than at present, he was now and then as prosperous in fact as he always is in ap- pearance. But his attire shows marks of re- juvenation, and the shine in his eye and the pallor of his face accentuated by flushed spots over the cheek bones tell that ere long he will cease to be blamed for his shorteom- ings of character, either by his friends or by himself. He was looking more cheerful than usual wf® an acquaintance accosted | him, but his greeting was interrupted by a sharp cough. - “I'm going to lose that cough, pretty soon,” he remarked with a smile. “I con- sulted a doctor about it and he says that it'll disappear before long.” “That’s lucky. “Perhaps. It's a curious thing. But all my life when I playe I had to copper nearly everything, 4 I never had to lose any success If tt w except nk, roulette I stood no show if 1 didn’t something on the naught and ¢ naught.” “Possibly that’s merely one of your sup- erstitions Possibly. But it nifests itself with strange cons: y. You didn’t know that I have a wife living, did you?” “I had never heard of it.” “I have, though. And what's more, 1 think a great 1 more of her than she gives me credit for. She doesn’t. suspect it; but it won't be very Jong till I keep a promise that I made to her years ago.” What was that “To give up this kind of life. 1 that one of these da I would come home with a big winning and never again wateh the turn of a card nor the spin of a marble told her She laughed at me then and she'll be won- derfully surprised when she finds how faithfully I have kept my werd.” “It onght to » he “Perhaps it will plea: he answe thoughtfully. “Anyway it has given me great deal of s: ion. It was a bi new game to me, but It seemed to be ed to my system of play. come out several thous “What was it?” nsurance. I didn't have much faith in it, but a smooth chap persuade managed to hold my luck down to be able to ante ¢ time thi and I'm su de ahea “round. I never before went Into anything big,” he added with a strangely gentie smile, “that I didn’t the worst of it; but this time I guess I'm going to win out * ** Incorrigibte. With hair grizzled by complexion bronzed by the weather, b would have seemed a hopeless subject fe anybody except a thoughtless enthusiast in reform. It was difficult to understand why he had come ashore, for he could surely have sat on shipboard, regaling hims with massive chunks of tobacco, to the ex- clusion of all other delights, quite as well as in the park. “My friend,” said the leisurely philan- thropist, “I perceive that you have one very bad habit.” “One!” echoed his auditor. “Matey, you want to cruise around with me a while and make a new reckonin’.” “I refer especially to the manner in which you use tobacco.” Without replying. the man looked at him out of the sides of his eye and waited for him to proceed. “Of course, I am a st “That's all right. Com: yourself at home.” “It ‘ms to m that your att ought to be called to the fact that injuring your health. You are addicied to tobacco to an extent which is absolutely certain to spoil your teeth.” “Mebbe so.” nger to you.” aboard and me on ou are “Isn't that enough to persuade you to sive up the habit?” “No, matey; I'm afraid it ain't. The question is like one 0” these h anoes; whica side is port and which side is star- poard all depends on how you happen to be p'intin’. It may be that chewin’ tobaceo will spoil my teeth. But we're steerin’ in a circle; fur if I didn’t chew to bacco, I wouldn't want no teeth anyhow.” * * A Maternal Responsibility. Pickaninny Jim's mother stood in the of her residence, calling at the voice: President McK ley! Whah is yo Pres'dent | McKint Ef I lays mer fis’ on- yoh back, you'll change yoh man- ners!”” A man who was} passing stopped —in!/ surprise and inquired: “What's the matter, auntie?” “Is yoh name Pre dent McKinley?” she inquired in an_ in- tensely supercilious tone. “No. And I'm afraid you won't get any answer to that name, either.” “I won't, won't I? Yoh je ute.” She started down th as she went, and presently emerged from side entrance with a boy, small and swarthy, who dragged his feet reluctantly in response to her resolute clutch. “Stan’ up on de do'-step an’ listen ter me,” she commanded, shaking her fore- finger at him. The boy obeyed, and she or top of her n= said impressive= “Whut’s yoh name?” After a brief but severe strugg|+ memory, he answered: res'dent McKinley Brooker.” “An’ why didn’ yoh answer ter dat namo when I done call it in de fus’ plac “Case, mammy, [ done fohgot it “Well, you's gwinter hab one mo’ chance ter fohgit it. Den I's gwinter it a 1 tree limb an’ write it all ovuh yoh b Go ‘long in de kitchen an’ wait tell T comes. It’s hahd wu’k raisin’s dat chile with his right,” she commented to the interested stranger; “mighty hard wu'k. “I don’t see how he came to have such an odd name. “I has some fam'ly pride, an’ I's willin’ ter take de trouble ter live up ter it. All de cullud folks ‘round hyuh dat is anybody is gwinter had one baby in de fam'ly named aftuh de Pres'dent. When dat chil’ was born I christened him ‘Pres'dent Ha’hson Brooker.’ Up ter las’ Fo'th 0’ Mahch hi name wus ‘Pres’dent Cleveland Brooker. Now I's habbin’ a time ter make ‘im re'lize dat he’s Pres'dent McKinley Brooker.’ I's at a pow’ful disadvantage, ‘case dah’s only one o' him. It's mo’ worriment dan train- in’ a pup ter keep dat boy f'um goin’ clean out 0’ style.” a A Violin on Ice. From the Springfield Republican. Miss Maud Powell, the violinist, recently had a somewhat unusual experience with her precious violin. She sent it by express solidly packed in a stout wooden box, but when she came to claim it it was missing. She described the appearance of the box to the official, and a sad and sympathetic look came over his face. He sighed and and presently returned with the box held coffinwise. “We had it on the ice,” he said. Sina ewe ees : A Friendly Offer. From Tiath. Lawyer Goodly—“What’s wrong, old chap?” Tglimugge—“I won a kiss from Miss Purs tiest on election. She won't pay up.” Lawyer Goodly—“Never mind, old mang Tl collet it for you.” re Showing on the face of it.—Life.