Evening Star Newspaper, April 3, 1897, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, APRIL Evening Star. are «ns indic is coming on a mian,” remarked an tleman to a Star reporter, “but he finds that his tten Exctust ng that “There old age y of slipping off the first he thinks there is | something wr suspenders, and | he tries to remedy it by tightening them | up. For a while this cures the trouble, but in a little while there is more slipping, and he a new pair of st « . Sven they slip off and make him feel un- | comfortat After a while he discovers | not with the suspenders, but | As s roll on a man, he nouldered, lers cod nd beh p them up. I ars ago, hearing two en speaking of the fact | old. One of them | of the | * was the reply, | that my suspenders ‘That has been my from the questioner. en referred to had tieth year, but they | to fail. After a man houlders grow round | time he is seven ‘ ve lost all their orig- formation. ** * the death last week | ert Ball there was no mention | at in his early days, and, in- ugh his life, he was an ac- complished vocalist,” suggested an old citi- 1g with a Star reporter. “Forty here Was no concert in this city otices of jing: when Bob Ball was not on the program. He was very popular, and had a grand voice. He sang solo parts | in one of the first minstrel troupes ever ed, with Throden Handy and the | M. Moxley, who fer so many years | business of bill posting in troupe was known as “The ormed in man | ry, even before Christy's | ere organized. Mr. Ball ‘ate demand for songs other gatherings, es free on old enough a mem Oldest Inhabitants’ tion quest made of him | sing angled Banner,’ | at the annual } on Washing- | st one, when he | punt of iline: > he . ever was the since its The from one | st tter carriers from > doubt that in a great new home or indi- oply a want and will he Neither is there any doubt that if such a system was introduced y nout the city it would on a letter carrier's well enough, but t, that requires a car- k of stamps on hand for s of the boxes will, for a < injuriously. There are +r of persons who want in sight on credit, and 5 derstand that it the letter carrier to | stamps on credit. | the post office is im- S must be paid for im tcf the new system, if it > operation at all, will be me the letter carriers which is against the | Postal reforms are al- ith difficulty, and this is ith those that have pre- | ork ke * & that I owned and rode the | in this city, Yr reportel >and, of course, h fety. The wheel | a friend in and s in diameter. There h it, and as there who had ever seen be imagined, in ride it I had made and ride it I did. I had | with | { amused my. h the aid of a|{ 16th street er, until the | veral times. When I} I found I could make t along the s I got down to the ik about dis- idea though, in A over a mile, ended up by my riding into the Potomac, at the foot of the M t As the machine struck 1, how glad was I for after I was in the , hold- y waded out lent wheel’ up to my ugh for one night. In a at it again, and in less a wheelman in fa ever . though I don’t ever forge he night I broke eet + © rick Brennan, the hackman, last week,” observed r reporter, “prob- 2 in this country @ far as record is concerned. He had! ért in all to over 4,000 funerals dur- ing the fifty years he was on the box. He also had a r_cord of over 10,000 wedding parties and ans number of other jobs in the Way of hackiag. He had driven in the first funerals that entered every cemetery here- abouts except at Rock Creek cemetery, which existed before he was born. His Specialty, however, was funerals and he had often driven to three in a day, and for months at a time never failed to drive to two funerals in a day. As cemeteries average a five mile drive, taking the near and distant ones, he had, therefore, driven over 20,000 miles in funerals alone. Though he delighted in funerals he would never Grive a hearse, though he has owned a number. He alw to drive nis hearses ce cae “The drum major as he used to exist, the sot one of his drivers F of the band and the glory of the p on, is a thing of the past,” re- marked a band master. “In his place, freaks of all kinds are new popular, from small beys with their twirling baton to fellows who carry a musket and go through all kinds of fancy evolutions while the band plays on. The drum major plays but little part in a band except for show. Though the small boys thought he led the band in its music as well as otherwise, he had no more to do with the muste than has the letter P as far as sound goes in the word pneamatic. The brass band is led by its leader, and the only thing that was expected of the drum major was to look as important as he could. The fellow who led the Pittsburg band in the inaugu- ral parade drew a larger salary for his ability and skill at handling the musket he carried than did any of the players in the band outside of the leader, who is al- ways the financial, as well as the musical manager of the band.” * eK KK “All of the camels bought by the govern- ment when Jeff Davis was Secretary of War,” said Capt. Saxton of the War De- partment, “were not left in Arizona, as might be inferred from the publication in last Saturda: ar. Many of them were bought by parties in Texas, and though I have not seen any of them for some years, here must be a number of them and their descendants still there. I remember once, six or seven years ago, riding from an in- erior town with a lawyer to a ion of a court in Te Though the gentleman of whom I was a guest had plenty of fine horses, he used the ca as a novelty. It was my first experience as a camel ride! Arriving at the court house, we hitched our camels in front of the fence. When we came out of the court house we found that the camels had eaten away all the shrubbery about the place, and it was with the greatest difficulty that we could get the judge from imposing a fine on us for our carelessness and the devouring qualities of our camel ke KK “Though Florida did considerable busi- ness during the past winter season,” said Capt. Frank W. Crosby, who has just re- turned from there, “in the way of enter- taining guests from the north, it fell short of what was expected. The people of mid- dle and northern Florida are satisfied that oranges will not pay. and they are steadily removing their orange groves and going into the business of truck farming for the northern markets. There is more ground devoted to garden truck now than to oranges, and with the increase of facilities in the way and methods of transportation » is less risk about it and even more ple can hardly realize the loss y the freeze in Florida four years caused ago. Orange growers who were worth twenty-five thousand dollars when they 5 to bed awoke the next morning to nd that a freezing snap had occurred, and ¥ were as poor as beggars. One night iped out of existence orange groves that took ten yeers of time and thousands of ollars in money to get in shape. In the treme southern part of the state the orange groves are still profitable, but in other portions they are risky.” ee WANTS A “VIALEAN Request of a Confederate Veteran to Ex-President Cleveland. The commissiorer of pensions and his assistants are the recipients of probably more curious communications than any other officers of the government. The in that bureau is filled to over- equence. One of the latest flowing in e of tosities in this line is in the nature of ar of the last administration, having n eived by Presid nt Cleve- land several weeks before his retirement and referred to the pension office, whither go all papers that relate, even in the most remote degree, to the late war. This let- ter, without a change in any respect, say in the transmission from handwriting to type, follows: Dear sir I am A old confederate vetran served in the exconfederate Armey of the lost case from the fact I though was write I served four long yearsgin the latter Part of 1864 I Mortally wounded I was shot on the lft of My chest the ball intring Pass- ing throgh Missing My hart A bout A inch the ball loging in My left leg the ball still remaining in My leg till the Present | ume all so I am Mines on of My limes My left is off A bove the knee from the afects of both it leaves Me in som What bad shape I am A inmate of the Tennessee confederat Home at pres- ent I am now in My Sith year & would like to Pass the time off as Mutch so as I can as I have but a few years to remain on this old beloved World I am destitut I shall ast A favor of you Mr. Hon. Presa- dent Humbaly ast you to Present Me inda- vidul to Me A good vialean I believe you Will I have stood to you in both of your cam Pains for President & would Again if you should indever to send Me A Present | of a good violeane I shall humbaly thank you I will dyrect you to the Place to send | it Hermatage stasion Tenn Davidson co to Jonn B. Hill soldiers home” a ee Valuable, Because Simple. From the Northwest Magazine. For a cold tn the head, catarrh and the like, put a few drops of ammonia into the hends. Then make a cup with the two hands and breathe the fumes. This will ear out the throat also. For tonsilitis, or even for diphtheria, it would be difficult to find anything better. It ts also very bene- lal for croup—though, of course, small ldren do not know how to breathe it. or the annoying colds in the head which ail at this time of the year, it will be found effectual. The fumes of ammonia are | death to almost all forms of bacteria and if it were generally used, diphtheria, as an idemic, would be unknown. ———_——+e- “Does your wife take any interest in current politic: man. “Naw,” replied Mr. Sodfarm, “she dun't. But if it's currant jelly er currant pie, why I allow she could tell you more things about 'em 'n you ever drempt of."—Cincin- nati Enquirer. asked the earnest wo- Poets have sung, and mayhap, not amiss. The yearning anguish of the unkissed kiss; But who of them hath ever voiced the thanks He owes his mother for her unspanked spanks?—Chicago Tribune. --—---+#e8 SHE WAITED IN VAIN. Sought for Years to Avenge Her Hus- band’s Murder and Died Unsatisfied. “When I was last in Arizona,” remarked the well-dressed New York traveling sales- man to a Star reporter, “I happened upon a bit of news which you newspapers fel- lows hayen't got onto.” “There are good reasons, no doubt, why those out there didn’t get it,” responded the reporter, “but one here has it now. What is {t?” “I hadn't thought of that,” smiled the New Yorker, “‘and you shall be the first to get it. It only occurred in February, and in a remote locality, so it is not surprising that the details have not been printed. I was met at a small station twenty-five miles or so out of Phoenix by a customer and friend of mine, who was to drive fif- teen miles to his place, out in the wilds. About two miles from the end of our jour- ney we met a funeral procession of four or five buckboards, a couple of buggies, seven or eight wagons and a dozen people on horseback. My friend stopped, and we took off our hats while the strange-looking pro- cession passed. Who is it?’ I asked, as we moved on. ‘The most remarkable woman in this neighborhood,’ he replied, and, in response to my further inquiry, he said: ‘Thirty years ago she was the wife of a miner who had a claim about five miles from here, off in the direction from which the funeral came. She was at that time about twenty- five, and was the mother of four children, the oldest about five years old. They were a thrifty couple, and were in considerably better fix than most of their neighbors. They had moved into that locality on the strength of a rumor that there was gold to be had for the digging, and the husband, who gave his name as Charles Hanby, be- gan the elusive search for the yellow Back of the couple was a story, which no- body in that section knew, but the shadow of it shone through the visit of a stranger who seemed to be convinced that Hanby had a good thing in the mine he was work- ing, and day after day he hung around the miner, watching him as he opened up still more the prospect of wealth. “One day Mrs. Hanby, who was ro- mantically devoted to her husband, and evidently of much better breeding than he, carried to her husband his dinner, and, as she approached him, though not yet in sight, called, and he answered, and began saying something to her, which was cut short by the crack of a gun across the gulch, at least a quarter of a mile away. When Mrs. Hanby reached her husband only enough life remained for him to tell her that it was the stranger who had mur- she dered him, and that he would return, and she must wait at the mine and serve him as he had served her husband. An hour later she was found, by her sister, who lived with her, sitting by the mine with her husband's gun resting in the crook of her arm and staring with fixed eyes down the gulch. ‘They coaxed her back to the house as night approached, but she was at her post next morning, and every day for thirty years she waited by that mine for her hus- band’s murderer. Rain or shine, hot or cold, during the hours in which he worked his widow watcied faithfully until a month ago, when her fatal illness came. Gentle at all times, she remained so, unless an ef- fort was made to prevent her going to the mine. Then she became wild and danger- ous, and she was permitted to do as she pleased. Nor would she stay in the litile cabin they built for her. She would watch as she did that first day, and, though the gun was empty and rusty, she still clung to it, and it was in her arms when she died. ‘Of course, the murderer never appeares again,’ said my friend in conclusion, ‘am just why he should have killed Hanby was never known. Whatever it was, the children, who have grown up in the thirty since their father’s death, have learned the secret from their mother's sis ter, who has brought them up, and all the chances are that they never will know. What is more, I think it would not be an agreeable knowledge to them if they did have it.’” THE YOUNG IDEA. Washington Fathers Lond Up « Help- less Reporter With Storie: A Star reporter without noticing where he was getting found himself the other day in the company of several fathers of inter- esting and witty children. ‘By the way,” said one of the fathers in a casual, unoffending sort of a way, “if-you want something good to print in your paper I think I can give it to yo The reporter's ears braced up and his senses quickened. “Of course, I want it,” he sald with truth. “Well, it's about my boy, Harry’—the re- porter saw where he had made his fatal mistake, but it was too late. “Yesterday I was talking about that amendment to the Dingley tariff bill, and was saying some- thing about ex post facto legislation. Halt an hour later my son came into the room where I was reading and spoke to me. I asked him what he wanted, and he said: ‘I wish you would tell me what you mean by exposed fact of legislation. Is it that kind that somebody has found out the truth about and give it away? Now what do you think of that? What the reporter may have thought was lest in the rush by the other fathers to tell what their children had said. “The other day,” remarked the next man who got up to the window, “I was growling about paying the bill for electricity in my house and my little boy and girl were play- ing in the room, and at the same time their sharp little ears were not shut. Finally the little girl asked me what was the difference between electricity and lighting. Really 1 would have been staggered at the question as parents often are by the questions of their children, but the boy came to my re- Hef. ‘W'y, sister,’ he put In promptly, ‘don’t you know that? You don’t have to pay apything for lightning.’ ” That wasn’t so bad, and the reporter al- rrost smiled, but before he had much chance to enjoy it. another father got the pole and went away down the track. “Yesterday morning,” said he, “I was go- ing out with my little girl for a walk, and I could not find my gloves, though I had culy a few moments before taken them from my overcoat pocket. I had laid them down somewhere and forgotten where, and 1 was provoked. ‘It's odd where you put them,’ said my wife, joining in the search. ‘Why isn’t it even, mamma?’ inguired the little girl innocently, and the answer to that question was more difficult to find than the gloves were, for we did find the gloves, but haven't got the answer yet.” ——— A Vengefal Transaction. He looked apprehensively up and down the street as he and his wife emerged from the restaurant. His steps were rapid, and it was not until after the corner had been turned that he said: “Maria, I don't want to go through life with a secret in my bosom. Rather than that, I will risk forfeiting your esteem.” “What is the matter? Have you been robbing anybody?” “Don't talk about it in that way! There were mitigating circumstances. You re- member the counterfeit 50-cent piece that I got last fall?” “Yes. It’s the only money you ever suc- ceeded in saving.” “It's gone with the rest. I gave it to the cashier in the restaurant.” “By accident?" “No. I did it in cold blood. I have been thinking about doing it for a long time. Ordinarily I am not vindictive, but I got to brooding over the matter till I yielded to ter ptation.” “How did your conscience permit you to do such a thing?” “That's the worst of it. Every time I think about it it seems to make my con- science feel better. We have becn patron- izing that restaurant on occasions for a year, at least.” “The proprietor has given us veal in the chicken salad, codfish In the deviled crabs, chicory in the coffee and water in the cream.” “There has been reason for suspicion?” “We have had evidence that would con- vince any jury. After I had given him a 50-cent piece with some lead in it, I tried to be ashamed of myself, but I couldn't. It may have been contrary to the statutes bo the United States, but it was poetic jus- ce." ——— One Advantage. From the Indianapolis Journal. ‘The palsied old man sat by the fire, his head shaking from side to side in the man- ner peculiar to his complaint. “It must be awful to be afflicted that way,” said the sympathetic young person. “Oh,” chirped ee it right handy fe tha bonttae conan eee to look at a two-ring circus,” Acer: ‘fr IS THE SAME, pa A Washingtod Girl Who Knéw How Sto Help. Once morf it § the Washington girl. This timethe ®tory {s In the nature of @ love story and is as true as it is beautiful. The girl in question is one of that im- petuous, warm-hearted, impulsive kind, which 1s indigenous to this latitude, and she is as Fharp futellectually as if she were a Boston producti The man in thé case is a New Englander, in Washington during the winter, because Washington is the finest winter resort on earth, and. this young man has got money enough to have the very best of everything. At the same time he is as diffident and dis- tant as the charlest Yankee that ever lived, albeit he is all right when the ice is broken around him, The young chap was in love with the girl, and had been since last winter, but he stumbled over himself so when he tried to tell her, that she really never knew what was the matter with him, though she more than half suspected. When Lent began, he thought the time had arrived when he must tell her all that was in his throbbing heart, and proceeded to do so. “Miss Blank,” he said, after a lot of pre- liminaries, with which this chronicle has nothing to do, “I have something very im- portant to say to you this evening.” “Yes?” she twittered cheerily from the depths of an easy chair she occupied about forty feet away from him. ‘Yes, Miss Blank, something very import- ant, and E hope-you will permit me to tell it to you.” “Miss Blank,” he said, after a pause, “I love you—love you more than I can tell. Don't you know that I do?” he added nerv- ously. She was as cool as a cucumber, which was rather remarkable, secing that she had a very large place in her heart for the bashful suitor. “t ean't say that I do, Mr. > plied, with a chill to his hope: “But you ought to know he insisted. “I don’t see why I ought,” she argued. “Because I love you, that’s why,” and he got up and be: acing the floor. ‘That n why I should know it,” she re- , Miss Blank,” isn’t, is there anything T can do to show you how much I love you?” de es, there i what it i and you ought to know " and now the young wo- ‘opped life.” Why it simply to take me in your arms and kiss me. That’s what it is, and you ought to have done it long ago.” They will be married in June. Judging Others by Himself. In one of my timber operations in the mountains of the Cumberland, whose sum- mits look down upon the states of Ken- tucky, Tennessee and Virginia, I had occa- sion to use an unoccupied cabin which I discovered near the scene of my labors. hhere, for three months or more, I kept bachelor hall very comfortably, considering that it was bachelor hall, and that most of the comforts ef a home were lacking. One Sunday afternoon, as 1 sat out on the poreh in the shade enjoying a book and a pipe, a mountaineer, who was evidently a rede up and asked for a drink of There something in the man’s ace and manner that attracted me, and I asked him to get down and have something better than water for a man riding in the mountains. He acecpted the invitation with alacrity, and soon had his freckled water. and sun-burned nose stuck deep into the cooling ard fragra greens” of the glass. “You live here?’ he asked, after the drink was well on its way. I told him I month or mere. “Stranger in these did, and had been- for a parts, I reckon?” he ou own the plac No, I can’t say that I do.” He looked around nervously, as if he aid not want to find what he was looking for. n't you the boss uv the tanyar “Oh, no,” I said, smiling at his peculiar manner, without being able to account for it. Then he pulled his chair over so that he id whis; id, so I could hear him, and with a constant e shoulder toward the door leading into the house, “you air fixed a good deal like I and I kin sympathize with yer, mis- deed 1 kin." How's that?” I asked, in my natural h—sh—" he responded, holding up a warning finger and looking nervously around. “Yer ol’ woman's the boss, ain't she? That's my fix.’" There was something so ridiculous in the entire manner of the man and his half- scared, half good-natured interest in my domestic condition that I fairly raised him out of his chair the way I'laughed at him, and when I told Lim there wasn’t any wife, he settled himself back so happily resigned to the situation that I was afraid he intended becoming a permanent guest. AES Not a Matter of Health. From the Chicago Post. They were discussing the construction of a new gown. “From a hygienic point of view, merely as a matte the dressmaker, made— The haughty beauty stopped her by a gesture. “Hygienic point of view!” she exclaimed. “Matter of health! What has that to do with it? When I want health I will go to a doctor. When I want style I come to you. We will new eliminate all absurdities and discuss this purely from a common-sense standpoint. Will it be fashionable and be- coming?” and of health,” suggested think it should be “y ——— “Want” ads. in The Star pay because they bring answers. 3, 1897-28 PAGES. ~ =~ oes ) | PHILANDER. ~ JOHNSON” Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. A Protest From the Unheard. “The first thing some men do when they find themselves in new situatio’ gentleman who had been reading over a long manuscript speech that began to show signs of age, “is to step in and try to criti- cise everybody who has had anything to do with the business previously. That isn’t my way. I am willing to acknowledge that | I have something to learn—provided, of cou public. “Of course,” replied the friend, whose habit of assent has won him a reputation as a conversationalist. “It is my intention to refrain from estab- shing uny new lines of procedure In pub- c business for at least several weeks. But , that I am not expected to do it in 4 I can’t help remarking, in an unofficial ca- | pacity, that there a me as unreasonable. “For instance?” “You remember the decision that member of the House of Representativ visible it is proper to count him for the purpos or not ney "things which strike ifa You commented on that ruling as a common-sense statement of a self-evi- dent proposition,” you have noticed that the vaker has never yet had to use any field- hile surveying the scene in que: to he counted thing was never known. nsideration of defective sight has even suggested.” Well, what I object to is, after all this play of plain practicality, to have a ker look straight into the eyes of a representative with whom he conver: hour before and solemnly declare that he can’t recognize him!” * * * The Origin of a Custom, A church in Crimson Gulck? Why, thar's the old one that we've got, Whar the boys take turns a-preachin’ and -tellin’ what is what. We're thar each Sunday mornin’ shine or ef it's rain An’ the credit’s all belongin’ to a Lenderfoot from Maine. ef it's We'd been snow. kin casily Thar warn't much on the fas’ i in fur weeks an’ suppose you rion in our clothes It's liable to come to be a mighty tryin’ | thing To keep yer wardrot nails string. Pivte tidy with tenpenny Pete’ war always kickin’; med a heathen shame n'tehold nc services when Sunday mornin’ came. So we all went to his shanty an’ we let him have hi we look u said it We An’ a collection, "cause we'd heard ‘twas done that way. The tenderfoot come with us an’ his sac- rilegious grin Attracted general notice when he dropped a button ir Was thar shoot: warn't no dan d. Broncho Bob, hi d the button an’ he jumped his hoss an ‘rid. t a little; but thar Say, stranger, it's surprisin’ how that thar ui s scamp Without intenain’ it brought reformation to the camp. The golden rule's a point the actin’ par- son never skips An’ he brings its application down to stock an’ poker chips. Fur we all kep’ on a-comin’ at the hour the warnin’ fell— Threé shots from a revolver; that’s the way we rang the bell, Eack a-hopin’ to fare better ef by any favorin’ fate Another button Ht upon the contribution plate. * * * Superlative Caution. “Of course,” said Mrs. Corntossel, ‘you understand your business?” “To be sure,” was the reply. n't fool you on the Ist of S$ not.”” “But there's three hundred an’ sixty-four other days in the year.” “Whut do you mean?” “I can't he’p thinkin’ thet ye got ketched off yer guard this morning, when thet young feller come around lookin’ fur work, an’ ye turned him away. He’s known in the neighborhood.” “Course, he was raised here.”” “An' he’s honest.” “Undoubtedly.” “You don’t expect ter run this hull farm by yerself, do ye? You know ez well ez I do, thet your talents ain't fur doin’ the “Talk about your frost: hie money back-because id the | of a quorum, whether he likes it | chance fur braggin’ | } ackchil work. Your fort is tellin’ how. That young feller is energetic, an’ intelli- gent, an’ willin’. An’ a month an’ his board.” | “That's jest it, Mandy. an’ I don’t read it fur 1 he wanted was §8 I take nothin’, A paper, I've been | readin’ all about these millionaires an’ their | early strug Whenever they ain't .got nothin’ else to do they hunt up a news- paper man an’ tell him about ‘em, an’ gloat m. say That boy is energetic an’ honest, The fust thing ye know, he'll » a notion ter go ter town an’ git rich. | Um kinder sensitive about some things, an’ id t perpose ter run no resks of hi. comin’ out here in the course of time on a tallyho coach, an’ p'intin’ me out ter the other swells ez the skinflint thet he oncet worked fur, fur $8 a month an’ his board.” * x * A Patriotic Sacrifice. The entrance of the man from rural re- moteness did not arouse much enthusiasm | in the eminent politician. There was a cer- | tain gloom about his bearing which the or’s best attempis at sociability could | not a pel. “Of course, Mr. Gechaw,” said the great man, “I am glad to hear all about | your amily and our friends at home and | especially about how much you did to s cure my election. But we may as well get down to business. I suppose e no ex- ception to the rule. What want is an office. “Would it come jest as handy as not to gimme one?” “To very candid with yor onvenience me a great deal. h, well then ye needn't bother your- would pae in: self. “De you mean that?” “Certamly. I don’t want no office.” host opened his eyes wide and ex- both hands in welcome. y friend and fellow-citiz am glad to meet a geruine he said, atriot, face to face. The trouble with this country is that there are not more men like you. T had begun to fear we had reached an | era when no action was and no declaration | of principle was untinged by a hope of | reward. I’m glad to boast the acquaintance ‘uch a man.” “Thank ye; thank ye, kindly. I was kind skeered fur fear ye had some back on yer old friends. As I don’t especially want no se, I'd kind 0° like ter hev a pla into it, whur the fel- lers could come in an’ set around an’ swap stories. But I'm new in the business an I don’t wanter put on too much style. Ef | itll be any convenience to you, ye kin | leave the office out of the question an’ do up my salary in an even envellup an’ have it sent around to my house.” * bad * * The Bulbul of Pohick. have noticed,” writes the Bulbul! ry year, along about Apri great many re poets and poetes come from ‘rsons ho write portry theil slves would remind you of a giraffe trying to pass hisself off for a Dachshund. It is considered delicately comic to insinuate that editors take clubs to poets, but I desire tq say that all the years that I have been in the portry ness no editor ever talked sassy put me out of his office—althouch an. or. twice I have just wished he would try it. The great trouble is that too ny folks have ignored the fact that portry is to not intended to dazzle by of superior knowledge. Its r sink into the gentle reac make him feel good. I in’ that a terrible rm a lot of portr annot help Unin jbility rests wi meritor nto the habit of using big y prejudicing the public. A my cheek when } think that | ail me to write a piece with the | sh mantle conditi title, 1T IS NOT ANY DISGRACE TO WRITE PORTRY. Many a time and oft has my courage al- most fled While listening to things which about por- try was said. They talk about the long hair of those that write it, in a manner to be dreaded, When, as a matter of fact, many genti Man-poets were conspicuously bald- headed. Owing to such misrepresentations Portry has had a hard row to hee in all nations. And many folks would not care if The people engaged on the tariff, While merrily taxing works of art, Were to make a poetic license expensive, and think it was smart. Although I will confess I have believed for some time That a tax would be no crime On them that write blank verse, because they have not patience to hunt up a rhyme. But I desist from criticism, for, alas! too well I see | It will only cause me to be charged with | prof nal jealousy, Of which there is alreac What we really need is harmony, such As will enable us portry-writers to organ- ize and control The market, as has been done in the case of sugar, cigarettes and coal. But let us be gay and happy, for things far too much. seem To indicate that portry is rising in general esteem Many respectable business men now-a-days Use in their advertisements and find that it pays. One thing which I believe has had much effect In making many people show a studied neglect For portry, is the way some authoresses frankly state How their escorts behaved at the front gate. Of confidence it is a violation And they ought to be boycotted without hesitation. And I wish to let the public know That never, never, would I do so. * x * The Words of an Oracle, He had been haunting the gallery of the House of Representatives for a long time, but he never seemed to take very much in- terest in the proceedings. Sometimes he would wander in and, after a brief survey of the scene below, depart. At other tumes he would keep his gaze ex- pectantly fixed. on a far part of the floor. A friend took the seat besice him one day, and the greetings exchanged had all the hilarious warmth which can only be developed when two townsmen who scarcely speak to each other at home hap- pen to meet in a strange city. “Have you seen him?” asked the new- comer. “Yes,”” was the reply; “I've seen him.” “Have you had the luck to be here when he was talking?” “I tock care not to miss anything he might say. I've been here every day. “I don’t blame you. I only wish I had the time. The way he woke up those monopolies and ringsters out home was a caution, and then he was only nibbling at the questions of the day; just getting the flavor of the social situation, previous to stepping in and biting out a chunk or two.” “That's the way I always looked at him.” “I suppose his voice has been ringing out in clarion tones.” “M’ yes,” was the doubtful eg ues- ooonethangy not get ae eee eaaes loner, eagerly. “I'l it waa brief and to the point.” “So far as I can judge. I let any of his remarks afraid that i Disintegrates, Breaks Down and Eliminates Stone of the Kidneys or Bladder, Both Uric Acid and Phosphatic, Bright’s Disease, Etc. ANALYTICAL REPORT OF Dr. A. GABRIEL POUCHET, Professor of Pharmacology and Materia Medica of the Faculty of Medicine of Paris--Director of the Laboratory of the Con- sulting Committee of Pub- lic Hygiene of France. ections ken. down vesteal « ich form the subject of adr w Chambers Laird, resi¢ thia Springs, Virgi c were discharged by different patien after the use of the mineral water Buffalo Lithia Spring No, 2 for a able time. I advixe here from the experience of Doc the use of thix min- ho has had w strate this that make this “The collections of the disintegrated cal- euli submitted x t number. A fragment been reproduced by phot nated by. the > dette snalysis here following tagnified 13 diam.) These dixintegrated eenal catcull are very mamerous, and msclvex in the sof grains of vari that of the Adish yellow ter. They for the Car- tity. ate of Ammonia and Magnesia—small are inentss sl ieal composi er part; Cari small quantity. (Calculus “°C” magnified 30 diameters.) Vestcal calculus reduced to crystal- me powder, eran of 9 white color, rather friable. Chemical composition: Phas poste of ammonia and iagaesia—toc the greater part; Car! ‘of lime—stmall quantity. Oxalate of lime—very small quantity. (Calculus “DD” magnified 7 diameters.) Vesteal calcul thoroughly disin- tegrated, fragments many and angular, granular ‘of @ rather fragile consistence of & greyish white color. Chemleal composition: Bical- cle phosphate—for the greater part (fusible @irectly to the blow pipe). Oxalate of lime—small quap- Uity. Carbonate of ammonia ‘snd magnesia—emall tity. Xanthine-—very small quantity. “(Siened) A. GABRIEL POUCHET. (A portion of the report omitted for lack of space.) Uric Acid Poisoning shows itself in Gout, Rheumatism, Stone of the Kid- meys and Biadder, Bright's Disease, Neuralgic Affections, Nervous Prostra- tho Nervous Headache, Mental De- pression and in Dyspepsin and Eczema, BUFFALO LrTHiA WATER issolves and washes out of the sys- tem Uric Acid Deposit, and is specific for all troubles of Uric Acid origin. BUFFALO LrTHIA WATER is for sale by Grocers aud Druggists generally. Pamphlets on application. Proprietor, Buffalo Lithia Springs, Va. ee ee eee Like Poets, They Are Born. From Tid-Rits. Mother (impatiently)—“7 don’t know what will ever become of that child; nothing pleases him.” Father (serenely)—“Well, we'll make art critic of him. a