Evening Star Newspaper, May 29, 1897, Page 18

18 TO THE NORTH POLE > Andree Will Make Another Attempt This Summer. WITH TWO OTHER FEARLESS MEN He Will Start From Spitzbergen in His Big Balloon. FOR A QUICK TRIP Evening Star. AF FLED LAST year by contrary winds, that deter- mined explorer, Prof. S. A. Andree, and his tes will, early July next, make nother attempt to ch the north pole balloon. was the case a elvemonth ago, tzbergen has been the depot and arting point of the party left for May 15. an artist of New | of Lieutenant Nils diree’s chief companion, a int of information has i relative to the plans and hose daring aeronauts. Mr. | From Erik Strindber a brother am in receipt of weekly commu- n mn. om his brother and Prof. An- 1 to the coming voyage. He everal opportunities of per- ting the balloon in which the mad, and in his posses only existing survey rn Spitzbergen, as secured Andree and Strindberg. | nd favorable enough to | ward the the balloon 5 ae pole. Mr. Erik § =) the joint invention of r tis constructed Andree. with a reservoir having a double covering or at the legt for fully four Its lifting | Ss 4,000 kilo- of over 4,700 per can carry | seven feet in| ing the stand fitted with opie apparatus. a row of great pout are stored. hs will be taken, | rnments, along | ble boats invented | thon. The may | from the balloon. A | rable num- {| the sur- | ed to} dof the balloon to a rate s than that of the tus to be! A uni- ill be fol- 1 so as to s @& medium course be- is ard the ce fogs. The rm the m by which this is preserv: teen inc certain peizt it counterbala: ydrogen. the eight on the mt untif ata the buoy- On the other hand te effect is pro- ration to depart d will be check- truction of capable of be ter as on lan iz well on w the north failure last | Saturday, | to Spitz- | din the t year by lone nothing wait for the first clear day emes from the captive balloon will | erected there ds ter this the COURSE AIMED t may prove the great- ntury will i of sixteen as Andree expect it can, in the for jons ne n taken, the journey if possibile, to Bering trait ich point the scten- tifie be informed of the xpedition oraden,” says Prof. Andree, usual speed of the wind 1s over nty-one miles an hour. The average nmer temperature here is 530 degrees and the temperature in July below 47 degrees Fahrenheit. Andrse-Strindberg: party, this sea son, numbers Prof. Andree, Lieut, Strind berg and Civil Engineer Louis Fraenkel. Svedentorg of the Swed!sh army company the trio to Cape Thorsden and act as substitute in case any one of 73 should fall ill. The journey holm to Cape Thorsden will con- sume seven or ctght days. . Andree is just forty-three years of ge, haviag first seen the light at Jonkop- | ship, and his record asa balloonist so far is THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 29, 1897-24 PAGES. ing, In southern Sweden, during May, 1954. In appearance he is a worthy descendant of the old Vikings—tall, broad shouldered and blue eyed, with blond hair and beard and an -exceptioaal allowance of muscle. His father died when Andree was quite young, and since then the savant has been the sole support and companion of his mother, a charming old lady, who Gwells with him in Stockholm. For his mother’s sake Andree has remained a bachelor, and the two are Cartoon of Andree. said to be devoted to each other; indeed, it took a great deal of coaxing to prevent adame Ardree from eccompanying her son to Spitzbe if not, indeed, to the Antarctic regions. Andree passed through the Stockholm School ef Ergineering with flying colors sured a place in the Swedish patent ly designated as tor of patents and inventions the King of Sweden and Nor- Early Experiment At jhe very outset of his career Andree began to experiment in ballooning. He hit upon a number of inventions and improve- ments in aeronautics, among these being the balloon and the drag ropes, which are to figure so notably in his coming ven- tre. His holidays were in given over to trial trips along th hores, a the failures or suc untered by him in th early ¢ s aerial traveling would fill occasion he endeavored to make hi balloon from Gothenburg to Pin- When approaching the Fi h t wird blew his apparatus close to earth, Andree sat perched on the car rail, ready to leap clear of the coming wr ly, however, the treacherous wind shifted. ‘The bailoon turned a somerset, and Andree was flung unexpectedly to ocating his shoulder blade and an arm. A led the bal- ving its late occupant maimed and little barren rock, miles from All night And: remained on the rock, but in the fishermen landed on the 4 st they would have nothing to do with him, believing him to be some sort of evil spirit. but a judicious display of money them over, and Andree w rescued. The balloon was found on anothe! smal! island, fifty miles to the southward. His Highest Balloon Ascent. ‘The highest balloon ascent ever made Andree was in 189 at Gothenburg. ba was inflated with about 7,500 cubic feet of and trailed a drag rope of nearly Tuo feet in length. It rose to 6,000 feet in the first quarter hour, and tually ascended to the height of five miles. Aft 5,000 feet limit had been passed the temperature began to fall. Zero wa: reached at 16,500 feet, and 2 el have fainted but for the fact that he in- halel oxygen from a rubber tube. October 19, 1893, Andree crossed the Bal- tic from Stockholm, ascending to a height of almost 10,000 feet, or over two miles. He ascertained that the diminution of tem- perature for the first 4,000 feet was at the rate of 1° for 250 feet. At the highest nt, however, the rate lessened to 1° for 40) feet. The relative atmospheric humid- ity decreased from 100 per cent at 6,000 feet altitude to 4 per cent at 7,500 feet. During a trip from Gothenburg to Got- nd Andree had the temerity to set forth with only one bottle of beer and a pair of ham sandwiches. ‘The voyage proved longer than he had suffered from intense before reaching land. This adventure is pleyfully sat dina artoon by a well-known Swedish artist, che Andree is shown in his balloon unching his last sandwich, while :y looking for a landfall through an inverted (and empty) beer bottle. Andree’s Comrades. Nils Strindberg, second in command, is only twenty-four years of age. He belongs to a family well known in Swedish official and scientific life and is a near relative of Strirdterg, the celcbrated novelist and his- torian. A civil engin like Andree, he has the honor of Nansen’s personal friend- n excel itzberg nt one. were The balloon houses in erected under Lieut. Strindte rection, and he is the pho- tographer-in-chief of the expedition. Mr. *raenkel is another young scientist of note and the author of several works. Lieut. Svedenhorg has been specially detailed by King Oscar to accompany the party and as substitute, if necessary. Spitzbergen, from which the air current is expected to drift the balloon across the pole, is inact ble except during the sum- mer months, on account of ice. Lord Dut- AT BY ANDREE. ferin, in his “Letters From High Latli- tudes," has given a faithful picture of this desolate island, home of eternal ice and snow, and of the extraordinary difficulties attendant upon an effort to reach English bay, its principal anchorage. Thorsden ‘ape, whence the balloon will sail, is to the northward—a lone, glacier-covered rack, \ jutting into the icebound ocean. Here are | the balloon houses, unless, indeed, some tempest of last winter should bave unhap- pily destroyed then; and here the hydrogen, brought from Stockholm in specially pre- pared tanks, will be inducted into the bal- oe reservoir. e plans of the whole rney were id before Fridtjiof Nansen Fair Baebes turn to Stockholm, and that great explorer, after examining them with great care, stated to my brothers that he considered the chances of reaching the pole by the Andree method exceptionally good. Nan- sen's precise words were: “It would be ef = —— pe rode to say that I not feel a passing pang of jealousy should reach the pole ahead of me. Never theless, I wish you success with all my heart. Skoal to the Andree balloon; and may it solve the great problem in THE DECORATION OF UNCLE SANDY, ae, Written Exclusively for The Evening Stan “I think,” said Elizabeth Wallace, de- cldedly, “that it is a very beautiful ous- tom.” = “So do agreed Richard. “TI think it is the beautifulest custom in the whole world,” declared Thomas. “Bo do I,” sald Susan G. The children were gathered together on the broad piazza of an old plantation house in southern Virginia. Elizabeth had been reading a letter from a cousin in Wash- ington, a four-page epistle, overflowing with a glowing description of the prepara- tions for the annual festival known as Decoration day. “Every soldier's grave in the cemetery will be trimmed with flowers,” continued Elizabeth. “There will be a grand pro- cession and martial music. Oh, I wish, I wish, we could have Decoration day down here, too.’ “Aunt Susan is going to dec’rate grand- pa’s grave in New Orleans," sald Thomas. “Grandpa's got the prettiest monument in the confederate cem'tery in New Orleans. Theyll have music in New Orleans as well as in Washington, won't they, ‘Liza- beth?” “Yes,” said Elizabeth, pensively. “I'd like to celebrate Decoration day, here, too,” cried Richard, “‘but,"’ he added, mournfully, “there isn't even one soldier's grave anywhere about. I declare, it doesn’t seem fair.” “Ever so many people went from this part of Virginia to serve in the war,” said Elizabeth. “Why didn't their relations bring some of them back and bury them in the family graveyards, I'd like to know?” Little Miss Wallace looked around at ner brothers and Susan G. with right- eous indignation in her big blue eyes. “That's what I'd like to know, echoed Susan G. “[ just feel like having the biggest kind of a celebration on Decoration day claimed Richard, jgmping up from the steps. “I'm hot for it! eyes, blue, like the eyes of Elizabeth, w shining with patriotic fire. “We haven't any soldiers’ graves, so we've got to think of something else. “Oh, Richard,” said Thomas, in a shocket _ t soldiers’ graves will do too!” “ration day. » something else might do,” said ted in silence while Rich- , sitting down upon the steps burying his curiy head in his according to people on the pltcher o” de cunne and brother toc to him ior being. Already rtic 1 raised his d. * demanded Wiizabeth, is Decoration day? eageriy. asked the t's Wedmesday after next in V ton, and here, if we have any,” said beth, h doubt in her tone, but hope her in hey are going to have a grand proces- fon in Washington,” said Thomas, as if his part of the program might possibly be forgotten. “And sometimes I guess men speak pieces and everybody sings sometimes,” said Su- san G Down in New Orleans,” said Thomas, citedly, “the people strew roses all about he ground when they march to grand- pa's grave. We could strew roses, too, and 1 could beat my drum, but where would we march t ; Then Richard Wallace astonished brethren by announcing solemnly, would march to Uncle Sandy's cabin “March to Uncle-Sandy’s cabin!” repeat- ed Elizabeth. “Oh, Richard,” ly. “Uncle Sandy isn’t dead. “And he never went to the war, ard, san G. “No,” said Richard, “Unele Sandy isn't dead and he never went to the war. If he'd gone to the war like as not he'd never have come back, and then we couldn't have any Decoration day for sure and certain. “My rose bush is covered all over with roses,” murmured Susan G. : “Mother says I can play good soldier music on my drum,” said Thomas. Hush while Richard tel!s us about Uncle lizabeth. y.” continued Richard, “1s a day for honoring heroes, as everybody knews. Well, Uncle Sandy was a hero, wasn't he? Didn't he do more by staying home during the war than plenty of men did by going? Come along into the house and let's get mother to tell us all that Unele Sandy did during the war.” The story of Uncle Sandy was long and brilliant and thrilling. The youthful Wal- laces had heard it so frequently that they knew it by heart, but they never tired of listening to their mother's pretiy, drawling voice recounting the war-time anecdotes of Uncle Sandy left alone with the missus and children on the Virginia plantation. Only once at the beginning at the recital was there any interruption, then Thomas inquired, “When grandpa and Uncle Sandy were out gunning in the far woods, grand- pa let his gun fall against the fence and knocked the trigger back and the gun went off and shot Uncle Sandy in the hand, and the r cut his hand off, didn't he, mother?” and Susan G. said scarcely above her breath, “Uncle Sandy looks like he was a soldier even if he didn’t go to the war.” Uncle Sandy couldn't go to the war even in the capacity of the colonel’s body ser- vant on account of the accident to his hand. He was told by the colonel that he must stay home and look after the planta- tion and take good care of the mistress and the children. He had stood at the gate and watched the colonel and the new body vant out of sight and then he had turned and carried little kicking George Wallace into the house. “Yes,” continued Mrs. Wallace, softly, “Uncle Sandy took wonderful care of the old pntation and the mistress and chil- dren. When the northern soldiers passed through he cooked a fine dinner for the of- ficers, and danced and sang for their en- tertainment, and after that he showed them his stump of a hand and explained how he was left behind to look after things. ‘Yaas, gemmen, I kin cook a good dinner wid my one hand,’ said Sandy, ‘but it's powaful hawd wuck catchin’ hosses once dey’s tunned joose in de woods. I done lef’ de hosses in de stalls, gemmen.’ The soldiers scoured the woods for the secreted horses of the neighbors and for a while Sandy’s grays were the only decent team left in the country. With his one hand Sandy plowed the corn and ground it in the mill, mowed the hay and cut the wood. Everybody was poor then, but the colonel’s little family was kept from knowing the real wretched- ness of the poverty of war times. Uncle Sandy was better than a dozen soldiers on gaurd,” said Mra. Wallace, “though I am sure his eyes must have been full of tears when he watched the coionel ride down the lane with Pete for a body servant.” : “But he wanted to stay with grandma and the little children, didn’t he, mother?” asked Susan G. “I do not think he would have left them for the wide, wide world,” said Mrs. Wal- face. “He picked papa up and carried him in the hcvse and papa was screaming and kicking,” said Thomas, ‘and he took care of everybody aud never went to the war.” “Well,” said Richard, “we are going to celLbrate Decoration Gay in his honor.” “We can decorate Uncle Sandy!" cried his We cried Thomas, protesting- Rich- Uncle Sandy dead, won't he, mother?” asked Susan G. plan for Decoration day on the plantation. abeth, enthusiastically, drum. piece."* Elizabeth. “Oh, mother, can’t we decorate “He will like it better than if he was It is needless to say that Mrs. Wallace was delighted with such a very original “We will have a procession,” cried Eliz- “and we'll sing sorgs and Thomas can play a march on his “We can sing about the little blue bird,” said Susan G, “and we can strew roses all “T will make up some poetry,” said Rich- ard, fivshing. “Uncle Sandy will like some poetry.’ “Oh?” cried the little Wallaces, rapturous- clapped ly, and Susan G. her han Tkere was, indeed, in those proparations for the decoration of little white house, In which resided Mrs. Meems, the seamst! “Can you'maké a suit of clothes for a men before next, Wednesday week, Mrs. Meems?” asked Elizabeth. said Mrs. “I reckon .mebbe as I might,’ Meems. “What fer kind o’ mai aR Sarkey man,” explained Tileabeth, “An o} ri ” gajd ar De yery old Sey inal cat Susan G. “A very old darkey man who didn’t go to the war,” added Thomas. “Oh, I reckon I can make Uncle Sandy & suit 0’ clothes between now and Wednes- day week, if he’s who you mean,” remarked Mrs. Meems. . it Is Uncle Sandy, but it’s a secret,” sald Elizabeth. “I guess Mrs, Meems can keep a secret,” sald Thomas, and Mrs. Meems laughed. The seamstress was further intrusted with the buying of the goods, the youth- ful Wallaceg insisting that it be of a dull respectable color. That same day Elizabeth, who was searching in the garret, came upon a de- sirable treasure in the shape of a red arti- ficial ro: “If mother gives it to me,” she said, “it will do to put in Uncle Sandy’s buttonhole. Mrs. Wallace in addition to the artificial rose contributed a pair of new shoes and a gay silk handkerchief toward the articles of adornment. “Uncle Sandy is just going to get ever; thing,” said Susan G, one morning, dancing down the broad hall, “new clothes and a handk'rchief and rew shces and a red rose and Richard's poetry. “Richard's poetry is very beautiful,” said Elizabeth. “I know Uncle Sandy will like t. “It is the beantifulest poetry in the whole id Thomas © will all dress in our hest on Deco- ration day. won't we, ‘Lizabeth?” asked Susan G., and Elizabeth noded. On the morning of Decoration day ther jourreyed a strange procession fri plantation house to Une! cabin. In the lead was Richa flag; next came Thomas, pla: on his drum; Elizabeth and Sus ed in white frocks, were strewing rose leaves about them as they walked, sirew- ing them very generously us they appro: ed near the cabin sides the white ¢ dren, there were six iittie darkeys, out in gaudy and 4 of the little to the beat: and Me! harp with fervor. the three little kkaves from dav ys. keeping tne of the drum on mouth orgar s Pete was play Every & the now and would spr that ik amusement | che twa w jew taen4 though no” in di ano Kind of | th. “Wot i neva seen sceh goin's ¢ Massa Richard do look it fo’ shore. Y of Uncle Sa 4man had ii SUrange procession i a peard Lo the a stand 11s eyes, pleased of approval, every inclination ef untimely mirth ev Hannah Seott, Vil explain a bosom oz pity story, gf the dead he: anil the boy well, but the story of Decoration ay en the old pianta appealed with greater force to thd members of the gay proces- sion, and Uncle Sandy looked down dub- iously at his stump of a hand. We are navings Decoration day for you, le Sandy,” ssid Elizabeth. “Don't you see, you are the brave man Richard {s iell- ing us about.” ” m gittin. ole,” said Uncle recatingly. “Wot you. little the gray; country, putty musig, fo “Because ton day,” said Thomus, “and bepause you didn't go to the war. ae “Dat 80?) saig Sandy, smiling. Then he began aws! how could I go to de wah? ired. “I nuttin’ but a nigger wid%on’y one hand. 1 wan't no ‘count, in de worl’. Dz cunnel rode off to de fight an’ Pete along wid him. 1 on’y got e han 4; all 1 got do an’ de chiens; 1 wan't good fo’ else. Ef Ud had two'hands de cunnel he'd went me along fo’ bawdy-servant, den who gunno take keer de place? Ef I'd had two hands dey'd wanted me in de wah to stand up an’ fight fo’ frcedom. It natchel fo’ a nigger to want to fight fo’ freedom, Lut how I gunno stan’ up an’ shoot at de cun- nel?” He put his arm over his eyes for a minute. He was young again; he was fighting his battle over just once moze in the presence of the gay procession, with the flag and the drum. When he looked at them he was smiling again. “it wah mighty easy to stay home and take keer de plantation an’ look afta de missus and de chillen,” he said. “It wah mighty easy wuck.” Yow say your piece of poetry, Richard,” said Elizabeth. “Richard is going to say a pretty piece of said Susan “Dat so? 5 “It ts all about you, Uncie Sandy ‘Thomas, solemnly* “Dat so?” said Uncle Sandy. He ieancd against the side of the door frame and bent his head, listening. “Say it real loud, Richard,” sald Eliza- beth. The living picture of the colonel stood erect, his eyes flashing, his cheeks a little * said red, and spoke his piece. “All over the country The people today Are trimming the graves Of the bhie and the gray, And they talk of brave sobliers And cannons’ wild roar, But we'll decorate Uncle Sandy Because he didn’t go to the war, Bring new shoes and flowers And beautiful clothes And we'll decorate Uncle Sandy Because he didn't go to the war, While the soldiers were marching Away on the hill, He was grinding the corn In the old-fashioned mill. He had only one hand, But he worked mighty hard, He plowed up the cornfields, He mowed in the yard. He took care the plantation, ‘What man could do. more? So we'll decorate Uncle Sa: Because he didn’t go to the war. “Laws! dat wah a putty piece pawtry shore ‘novgh!” cried Meline, unable to re- strain her enthusiasm. “Now give Uncle Sandy his suit of new clothes,” ordered Richard. “And the pair of shoes that mother bought,” said Elizabeth. “Let Uncle Sandy go behind the bed post and éress,” said: Thomas. When Uncle Sandy returned from his retirement behind the bed post he had on the new sult and the new shoes, and he was very happy and very excited. Then Elizabeth put the artificial rose in his buttonhole and then all the children, black and white together, threw the chain of flowers over him, Meelie’s Pete* uncon- sciously playing, & martial alr upon the jew’s-harp.« + “Now, Uncl? Sandy,” said Richard bright- ly, “you know“what Decoration day is, sure enough.” “Yaas,” said, Uncle Sandy, “I’m gittin’ ole, but I reckon I knows wot Decora- tion day is shore ‘nough. It mean a lot o’ leetle chillens playin’ music an’ singin’ an’ fixin’ up a ole nigger man shore ’nough.” “Because he didn’t iso to the war,” added ‘Thomas Wallace earnestly. LOUISE R. BAKER. Beught $170,000 Worth for $6. From the Philadelphia Times. George W. Stone, a Burlington, Iowa, commission merchant, became a rich man in almost a minute's time. He was the successful bidder for the anknown assets of the Burlington Insurance Company, which recently failed. The unknown assets were MR. SHERMAN’S DAY How the Secretary of State Disposes of His Business. HE 1S METHODICAL AT ALL TIMES Saves Himself by Relying Upon His Assistants. MEETING OFFICE SEEKERS FAMOUS MODERN French painter exe- cuted a picture of a Roman _ gladiator standing in the pres- ence of the Emperor Hadrian. Every huge muscle of the gladia- tog’s colossal torm, harnessed and loin- clouted for the fray, seems a-quiver with ferocity, and the devil of balefulness danpes over his The deep-eyed, aes- coking emperor, with a long, thin under Ris chin, regards the bleod- thirsty giant with a piercing, inscrutable gaze. The vecollection of this picture flashed into the mind of one who happened to be week at the meeting between man and Robert Fitzsimmons in the Secretary of State's office. Perhaps not before ir, the history of this country has there been witnessed in an Ameri sanctum so admirable a contrast between brains and brawn. The supreme slcgger of the globe, the vanquisher of all pugilistie colossi of his the otheosized human fighting machine, stood in the presence of the man of ‘brains, the tor of American staesmanship, in the de of a school, boy dragged hand me, before teacher after a 7 eted perio: of hookey-playine. His mi hands, so pe al of lightning, trip ner _Knock- out blows, he did not kr what to do with. He rested uneasily first upon one and n upon the other of those nimble feet h which he has so many scores of times anced shiftly away from the ferocious onslaughts of his antagonists. The set, de- termined vindictivene:s of his “ring” coun- tenance was displaced by a sheepish leer. And yet the man of brains endeavored to place the man of brawn quite at his ease. A Great Man. ‘Your recent contest was a severe one, IT Mr. Fitzsimmons?” inquired the eve, man with a head of the man with hands, amiably. Mr. Fitzsimmons muttered a couple of in- avdible wor ots s, and grinned. seemed to have pretty thoroughly the country, the contest, did it » the silver-haired man to the haired man. Fitzsimmons scrutinized the rim of hat attentively, blushed, grinned, and said: “Th' United Stites is a gime country, y’r honor,’ and backed out of the office. responding with short, sharp ducks of the head to the Secretary of Staie’s farewell bows. When the door had closed upon the world’s present-day gladiator, the wrinkles at the sides of Mr. Sherman's eyes con- tracted into a smile: “A great man, Babcock,” he said, drily, to his private secretary, and went on with his work. Mr. Saerman receives every day stranger visitors than the Australian horse-shoe tur- ner, but he has never been in juxtaposition with one in stronger contrast to himself. is is the first time Mr. Sherman has been cretary of State, although it is not the t time he has been a cabinet officer, and as the premier of the American executive's privy council, he has an interesting tashion of ing his day: Briefly, he works at his desk from 9 o'clock in the morning until 4 o'clock in the afternoon; then he goes home and reads novels. He is ar omniverous con- sumer of novels of all degrees of merit, of all colors of binding—yellow_ preferred. He says they rest his mind. He considers that at the ege of seventy-four he has earned a rest from the heavy literature of finance, of economics, cf statesmanshi and Mr. Babcock, his secretary, says that he follows the woes of the latter-day heroine, the truly good stiltings of the modern hero, and the sulphurous ejacula- tions of the fir de siecle villain with a really remarkable interest, even if he does smile a good deal through his spectacles over what he reads. But all this happens after 4 o'clock in the afternoon, when Mr. Sherman is Mr. Sherman, and not the Sec- retary of State, and it is with his manner of putting in his time as Secretary of State that this article is concerned. Knows How to Work. When Mr. Sherman became the Secre- tary of the Treasury a matter of twenty odd years ago he was confronted by one of the most herculean tasks that*ever loomed up before an American statesman—the re- sumption of specie payments—and Mr. Sherman worked away at that job, and accomplished it, from 9 o'clock in the morning until 4 o’clock in the afternoon— no more, no less. “I first became connected with Mr. Sher- man at that time,” said Mr. Babcock, his secretary, ‘and I never knew him to work lcrger than the office hours of his clerks. Yet he contrived to refund $700,000,000 of the national debt. The thing was, he knew how to work. Mr. Folger permitted the secretaryship of the treasury to kill him, probably Mr. Manning did also. Neither of these gentlemen was generous to himself. A whvie generation of political experience taught Mr. Sherman that lesson before he assumed the reins of the treasury, and, ac- complishing more work in that capacity than did Hamilton, he emerged from the ordeal with his health and strength. The secret of it? He trusted his assistant sec- ‘retaries; he allowed his subordinates to do the work they were appointed to do. He never permitted a paper to lie on his desk for ten minutes, and made disposition of his affairs as they came up. His desk was clean down to the blotting pad when he put on his hat and quit his office at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. The Secretaries of the Treasury who allowed the position to give them nervcus prostration attempt- ed to do the whole thing themselves; and no Secretary of any government depart- ment can do that and live through his term. “As was his rule when Secretary of the ‘Treasury, so is Mr. Sherman’s rule as Sec- retary of State. When he came here he found, as he expected he would, that the State Department is filled with men who have been hero a long time, and who have gy & detail of the department’s routine at their fingers’ ends. Mr. Sherman per- fectly appreciates the fact that these men for $6. The assets have now been | their respective branches cf the offered for sale in one lump. It was bid off | know more about the practical workings of department Giscovere discovered to be worth $170,000. The Casus Belll, four, and that his eyes are just as good today as they ever were.” Over His Siguature. For instance, to elaborate a little on Mr. Babocck’s talk, the country in general probably fancies that all the sounding dip- lomatic documents that are occasionally published in the newsoapers are writien by the hand of the Secretary of State himsel that he sits down under a gas lamp and gnaws his fingernails and a@ousles up his kair in doing it, like a of a school of journalis say thickly sown with “we Secretary of State to @o this, or anything like it, no matter what the degr volubility, would be a sheer impossibilit Tens of thousands of words of this sori 0! correspondence are sent broadcast through- cut the world from the American Depart- ment of State every day, always over the signature of the Secretary of State; but the Secretary of State himself no imore revises it and shapes it editor of a newspaper ccurt news that appears i momentous documents, great international que tury of State does write himself, the other diplomatic correspon¢ that relating to affairs of very cons! nportance, is gotten up in the diplomatic urean of the State Department, of which Mr. Cridler is now the hard-working head. All this formally and eiaboratel ous correspondence, with its “r strances of profound, dist tion,” and so on, of course, pass over cretary of State’ , and is sup- ject to his revision be: it; but it is very rare that he f to make any changes in it, so care thoroughly is this work done. Whenever any document preparing For an up than does the cou Sherman's desk that does not require his personal att fately for the offi ose branch of the denartment the document properly belong: and turns it over to him with a few succinct instructions. He docs not lav it aside for future consideration, and the eby accumulate a monumental pile of papers filled with possibilities of grief and labor to come. It is reatly quite enter- taining to see Mr. Sherman cut omn an official letter as it reaches him hot from the mail, glance it over and grasp it within the compass of sixty secoi and thea either send for the proper official or else oot it out by messenger to the place it belongs. The result is that Mr. Sherman, at his desk, does in no wise resemble a country editor buried up to his cars in hopelessly entangled exchanges. The Consular Service. The American citizen loves his country’s consular system to an extent that makes him quite willing to become a part of it. Seemingly, he never re in his his- tory cf the government regarded it with so much positive ve the present adminis tens of toou on file at th he has sicce The ions t to be government re ‘tis always af in the blue main land adjac sented Japan. in ki, or nt_pere suit and a through the where nature pith long is re the emoluments itudi these applications pour in every day: but they co not pour through M citice, else he would never know wl e insi of a novel looked like it a separate brunch of State Department busi- tions for con: without sible for M But, alihou: erman to ne. of the applicants for con » can’t get around the task of sering the appli- ants themselves when they come to Washington for that purpese—which they do. in number: The of State sees thom all. Mr. Sherman picked up the manner that distinguishes him a matter of fifty odd years ago, and it is a so that the men who visit him to ask for censulships have a fair show to study how their grandfathers used to receive visitors. sretty fine manner, But Mr. Skerman has never been a spec- cular success as a promiser out of hand, and he is not that today. He will sec that pers receive careful co: ration; iN have the appitcants’s claims and ications thoroughly inquired into be- fore any appointment to such uch a post is made; and when Mr. Sherman gently pulls his spectacles down from his forehead, where he has pushed them the better to see his visitor, to his nose, and »wly wheels around so that he is facing is desk, the visitor, if ne be a man of makes his adiewx. Otherwise, his rsftion is continued with Private Sec- retary Babcock—very briefly. His Manner of Expression. Mr. Sherman has a quaintly terse way of expressing himself, both in speaking and writing. With all the courtesy in the world Mr. Sherman yet speaks almost ab- ruptly: he does it from an appreciation of verbal economy. When the diplomatic documents that he himself writes begin to be published the habitual comparer of the literary styles of statesmen will note that wh the documents may lack,for instance, the swing and the resonance of Mr. Blaine’ state papers, they certainly possess bull’s- eye directness. The letters which he dic- tates are extremely terse and short as to sentences; but they convey a lot of mean- ing in a very few words. The‘cnly occasions upon which Mr. Sher- man teels called upon to grow a little ex- parsive are the diplomatic days—Thurs- y. This is the especial day that he sets aside for the reception of the diplomats, to talk over things with them confiden- tially, and on this day other visitors have a very slight chance of being received by him. The Secretary of State receives the diplomats in a room adjoining his office, and called the “diplomatic room”—by ali odds the most gorgeously furnished gov- errmental chamber in Washington. It is ornate with ebony and gold, and a very lcng room, the walls hung with splendid works of art. Mr. Blaine, who was fond of luxurious surroundings, used to often oc- cupy this room for working purposes. Run- ning its entire length is a carved ebony table, and it is at the head of this table, seated in a tall revolving chair, that M Sherman receives the diplomats, one by ore. They string into the ante room for their audience with the Secretary of State all the way from 10 to 1 o'clock, and in re- ceiving them no matter of precedence is observed. The first to arrive is the first to be received. The Secretary of State gives these audiences for a general resume of each diplomat’s business, and it is for this reason that he only receives them one at a time. He leans back in his revolving chai with his spectacles pushed up on his fore- head, taking in what each of them has to say, and occasionally jotting down a note on a scratch pad in front of him. Mr. Sherman is not a linguist. The only lan- guage he can speak is English. But as there is not now in Washington a single representative of another nation who can- not also speak English, the Secretary of State has no trouble in carrying on these conversations. At the conclusion of his in- terview the diplomat departs by another door from that by which he entered, Mr. Sherman touches a button, and the next gentieman for a confidential talk is ushered in. By the time they have ail seen him Mr. Sherman has a pad full of hteroglyphic looking notes. iS ee Short Wars. From the Springfleld Republican. The war between Turkey and Greece hi lasted three weeks. The war between Japan and China lasted six months. The French declared war against Germany in July and Sedan fell in the following Sep- tember. Austria was brought to her knees in six weeks after the outbreak of hostili- ties with Prussia in 1868. The Danes in their war against Prussia and Austfia in 1864 held out about six months. Servia declared war on Turkey July 2, 1876, and begged the powers to “mediate” fifty-three days later. Russia declared war on Tur- key April 24, 1877, and on December 12 the porte requested the mediation of the pow- ers. The South and Central American wars during the past quarter century have for the most part been short, and even the Cri- mean war, which took place over forty a year, the one great excep- own civil war, which lasted a strong in the value of routine. | for its lopg continuance, such as the utter “T ail of us together have monoy hearers F lets them go ahead, keeping lack of preparation on both sides, the great enough to @ sult of clothes for Uncle} African Chief—“We are at war just now Oe sec rock: iene no eee teeter Pesouress of the opposing sections apd the Sandy,” said with a tribe,” ‘with it without good occasion. And I guess | bitterness of the struggle. 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