Evening Star Newspaper, June 12, 1897, Page 14

Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. “It may seem like a contradiction of terms, but it ‘s a fact, and has been my ex- perience, as it has been of a number of oth- ers who control property here,” remarked an extensive property owner to a Star re- porter, “that a lease affords no protection to property owners, though it is frequently @n advantage to those who occupy the property as tenants. The law is defective in that all the security ts on one side of the transaction. I never sign any leases now, except there is real estate security offered. As for making the rent on a house by seizing the furniture it is all nonsense. In the first place, the amount of furniture ordinarily put into a rented house. is not of enough value to pay any very serious rent bill. In the second place, the property owner could not get it without a series of law suits, which would cost more than they would amount to. A monthly tenancy is the most satisfactory for all concerned, ex- cept for business property. There the lease is the better in the interest of the tenant, as well as the owner of the property, for a stock of goods is easier to get at than or- dinary house furniture. Some months since I had occasion as an officer of a company in which I am interested to rent a party a house. As agent of the company 1 asked the tenant to sign a lease and he did so. In three months afterward the tenant came to me and said he intended to surrender it. He sald he had been informed that the lease, which he had signed for three years, had but little or no legal effect, and that he proposed to move out and take his furniture with him regardless of the contrary conditions in the lease. I sur- prised him when I concurred with him, and told him that I only had him sign the lease as a matter of form, as I knew it was valueless as far as the owner of the prop- erty was concerned, though it did give the tenant the use of the property for the time stated if the rént was pald.” eee eK “The open cars on the street and sub- urban railways are defective,” said a phy- sician to a Star reporter, “in that they ex- pose the feet and legs of their passengers to am under draft of air, which to persons who are rheumatically disposed,is of serious consequences. I know of dozens of per- sons, and there must be hundreds, who have had a siege of rheumatism during the past two or three weeks of very backward weather. It may not make much difference to those who take short rides, but to those who have to make long rides in the early morning or in the evenings it is of im- po: € enough to have public attention called to ‘The difficulty is that the board under the seat only reaches down to about of the floor of the car. It is are exposed, ail the under tly upon the feet and legs. n the warm weather sets in sod it will in a measure remedy itself, without any thanks to the construction of the cars. It happens that 1 am a member of the board of phys s of one of the large hospitals, and du a recent meet- ing Sicilans got to talking of the ount of rheumatism which was ng. A comparison of notes showed a every case mentioned it was the It of riding in open street cars. The stip car is much safer to ride in, for the sides of the passage where the gripman stands run down to the floor and afford Protection except when the car runs di- head on a wind,which is but seldom. At all other times feet and legs are protected from r draft. I make no criticism of any particular line of cars, for as far as the open Gr summer cers are con- cerned, all are the same way, and equally defective and injurious.” se * ke eK * I had an fdea,” observed Judge Lau- rence of the pension bureau to a Star re- porter, “that all of the older colored people —men and women—and particularly those who were slaves, could manage and milk @ cow. I had never lived in the south un- Ul since the war, and had picked up that idea from what I had read. I found by experience, however, that the proportion among colored people who can milk cows is much less than it is with the average white man and woman. Of the thirty-three persons, twelve of them women, in my division of the pension bureau, but three claim to be able to milk, and I have con- siderable doubts about one of them, who was raised in New York city, and who thought that if a cow was fed on snow- balls she would give ice cream, though he did not express himsel? so exactly in words. I find in looking into the matter of the colored folks, during slavery days, that thelr owners generally had what they re- garded as more important labor for the men to perform, and always required the Women and girls to do the milking. The men and boys were required to iook after the horses. When there was a ‘no account’ fellow about a place he was now and then required to milk cows, for the reason that it was regarded as a degradation. Some of these ‘no accounts’ became in time good milkers. It was rare when there was one man slave in each fifty who could milk a cow. Among farm hands among white men it is, on the other hand, very rare that they cannot milk, though, of course, all of them were by no means good milkers. During the thirty-five years since the war but few—I mean, of course, in proportion to the five millions of them tn this coun- try—have owned cows on their own ac- count, and those who can milk had to learn it as they would learn any other work. What are known as natural milkers; those who in girlhood or boyhood milked the first time they tried to do it, are better milkers from every standpoint than those who have to learn. “There are a number of milk farms with- in twenty miles of this city, and it is only during the past two or three years that the supply of colored milkers has been sufficient to meet the demand. You can Get 100 colored men to handle or look after your horses where you will have difficulty in getting one who can master the art of milking a cow. I saw a bet lost only re- cently by a man who denied this propost- tion, and who bet that out of 120 colored laborers who were working on the new electric road between Hyattsville and Laure! he could get twenty who could milk. But four of the entire crowd even claimed to be able to do so and the bet was lost.” . * ek & “The science of phrenology has not im- proved much during late years, and has hardly kept pace with the other sciences, —_ but T cannot say that it has gone back- ward,” observed a phrenologist to a Star reporter. “One of the drawbacks has been that so many totally unprepared persons set themselves up as professors and went out in the world feeling heads and ik ing to diagnose the bumps on and the de- velopments of them. Their powers of ob- servation were as lacking as their educa- tion in the science itself, and they brought discredit upon phrenology and phrenolo- gists. There is a great deal in it, but it takes a great deal of study and investiga- tion to bring it out properly. Originally many phrenologists claimed that they could tell what the religious faith of men and women was by examination of their heads and physlognomies. They claimed, and demonstrated it time and time again. that the head of an observing Methodist showed a certain formation, while the head of a Catholic or Episco- patian showed a different as well as differ- ing formation. Likewise, they could tell who was a Baptist and a Presbyterian, the heads of which were as characteristic as they were different. But as religious views, faiths and theories grew less de- cided and more harmonious, I believe that no phrenologist will. go so far as to claim that he can now distinguish the various sects by their heads. It is remarkable, however, how the physlognomies of fol- lowers of certain faiths blend with each. Take the Dunkards who visited this city this week in large numbers from their an- nual gathering at Frederick. as an illustra- tion. Even an imperfect observer could not fail to notice that the heads and faces of ail of the men were identical in forma- tion. The same shades and colors pre- vailed in all of their faces. Half of them wore beards trimmed exactly alike, while the other half were smooth-shaven men. The faces of all of the women were ex- actly alike. I use the Dunkards as an apt illustration, and without any intention or desire to reflect upon them as a class or their religious faith. But suppose there would be dissensions and factions in their following. The whole features of the fol- lowers of the divided factions would lose that simplicity that is now so harmo- niously indicated in their physiognomies, and fm less than ten years there would be none of the marked characteristics that now so plainly point out to every one that they are Dunkards. Phrenology has never received the recognition it should have had from the scientific world. This was not, however, because it did not deserve it, but because there was no united and persist- ent effort to secure for it recognition by phrenologists as a class.” x * KOK “In a couple of weeks more the schools will close for the summer, and the boys— at least many of them—will take a hand at kite flying,” sald one of the weather bureau kite experts to a Star reporter. “It has always been an interesting sport for boys, but the interest in it never equaled that which is now evidenced on every side. It may be too much for the average boy to make one of the box kites, from which such good results are anticipated by the weather bureau, for they are somewhat difficult to make, and to raise and fly-after they are made. Still, no doubt many of them will try it, and I am told that the authorities will make ro objection to the boys using the White Lot or the monu- ment grounds for that purpose. I can give the boys a pointer on kite flying, however, even if they do not try the box kite. Let them make the ordinary three-stick kite, but instead of one, make three or four kites. Have them rigged up in pairs, or threes if desired, so that they will fly about five or six yards from each other. This can be arranged by the length of the string. Then give them about forty yards ef string aad send up a couple of other kites, in pairs as before. Tine whole are to be flown by one string. The four kites will, of course, ‘pull’ four times as much as one kite will, but the combination will take up a great deal of string. Flying a team of kites of this kind is a favorit amusement of the boys in Denmark, and it furnishes them with a great deal of spurt. The Chinese boys go further, and some- times send up a series of kites, running frcm ten to fifty kites, all from the same string. They rarely fly them in teams, hewever, preferring to rig them so that when they are in the air they look like a long-talled dragon. They usa fancy. col- cred paper in their kites, red, of course, predominating. Any of the Chinese laun- drymen in the .city will: explain how the dragon kites are rigged.” xe KX “Like the buffalo, the Indian language will soon be lost forever,” explained a gen- tleman who under the auspices of the Smithsonian. has devoted a number of years to the study and preservation of the Indian language. “It was thought that the Irdian language could be preserved by the aid of the phonograph and graphophone, and parties were sent out to many Indian tribes to have them talk into the apparatus and thus secure a record cf the Indian tongue. It was found, however, that but few Indians of the present gay, and they were the older ones, could talk a pure tongue. More than one-alf of the Indians now on the reservations, 2nd this is the case with all of the younger Indians, con- verse in English. Ht is not good English, but it is the kind they speak, a kind of pigeon English. I had the work of securing some Cherokee talk, and in doing so talked with a dozen or more leading Cherokees. They admitted te me that they did not know one Cherokee who could speak pure Cherokee. They said it was with the great- est difficulty that they could get the boys and giris to speak in their native tongue at all, or to learn even the commonest words or phrases. I arranged with a half dozen Cherokees, however, and zecured their ser- vices to talk into the machines, and have thus got some pretty good Cherokee, but I know enough about the language myself to krow that it is very imperfect Indian language. A few of the Sioux Indians talk pretty well, but it is a mixture. In less than twenty years I do not think there will be an Indian in this country v.ho can talk his native tongue pure. As far as the Indian children are concerned, they use six English words where they use one Indian word. The machines of the day will record the language if it is talked into them, but the difficulty is to get Indians who can talk with the necessary degree of accuracy.” xe KK * id “A deed in fee, or fee simple,” answered a lawyer who was asked by a Star reporter what the term meant, “means an ataolute deed, without any conditions ettached to its issuance or tenure. It is deeding some- thing which belongs to the owner. It trans- fers ownership to the one who receives it, absolutely. Cattle were originaliy the me- dium of exchange, or the money of the land, for they were used in exchanges long before anything else was thought of. They were the fees, the payment, the thing of value by which exchanges were brovght about. A fee, therefore, is a payment; a reward. From this came the term, deed in fee, or deed in fee simple. A deed of this kind means, therefore, a transfer to the receiver of the same, and his or her heirs forever, of the property in question. It is generally the result of purchase, but prop- erty can be deeded in fee by a will.’ A FATAL SITUATION. THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 1897-24 PAGES. drive across country t¢ catch a:train at a station whic f could hot have reached otherwise, except by a long and tiresome detour over a miserable piece of road—and when a railroad in Georgia is bad it ts bad with any sort of an adjective for em- phasis you choose. It was twelve miles and through a mountain gap, and as it was nearly dark when I started { wound up by getting lost and going the Lord knows here till I s zope @ very fair two-story jouse that loo! er hotel once upon a time. asked the «nan who responded to my call how far it was to the railroad, and he told me ten miles, and I had better ‘ight’ and stay all night. I ‘lighted,’ and siter @ bite of cold bread and meat and rink of ‘moonshine’ I went to bed, tii enough to have slept on a picket fence. It was then 11 o'clock, and ut two hours later I was awakened from my slumbers by hearing a train whistle apparently a mile or less away, and then rumble along, coming nearer and nearer and nearer untti suddenly it stopped, and I heard no more. I was too sleepy to give it much thought, and rolling over I went to sleep again wondering why my host had told me it was ten miles to the railroad, unless it was to deceive me out of the price of a night’s lodging. “In the morning at breakfast I mentioned the fact to him, and he laughed in an un- easy kind of a way and assured me that it was ten miles to the railroad, and I would think it was three times that far after I had driven over it. The noise I had heard, he said, was probably the wind blowing down the chimney and banging around the house, which wasold and open in many places. I hadn’t any more to say, and went on my way to the railroad, reach- ing there in three hours, and noticing. all the way that an old roadbed with the ties and rails still on it in places lay near the wagon road all the way to the station. “At the station, while waiting for my train, I got to talking with the station agent, who was a bright, sharp chap, and incidentally I asked him about that rail- road train. He looked at me quick as a wink and asked me the particulars, which I told him. “It's a han’t,’ he said. ‘Last night was the night it always comes. When the road was first built here there was a branch that run back up in that country to a Place about two or three miles beyond that house, to a kind of a summer resort up there. Mineral springs and a waterfall. Excursions for a day used to go up there from towns down the road from here and up the other way. Ten years ago tonight an excursion was coming back from there and just about the neighborhood of that house the engineer saw an obstruction on the track that was going to throw the whole shebang over the bank, and whistling down brakes and cutting his engine loose he went straight for it and knocked it off the track. Of course he and his engine went with it, and neither of them was ever any more use after that racket; but the train was saved, and that was enough for a man to die for, because there were two hundred women and children in the ex- cursion. “It was shgwn that some of the people in the neighborhood had attempted to wreck the train, and it spoiled the excur- sion business. There was coal on the branch that kept the last nine or ten miles of it in operation for a few years longer, but there never was another passenger train to go over the place where the en- gineer was killed. That 1s to say, never another train that anybody,ever saw; but there has been one go over the spot, or rather go to it and stop, one night in every year for the past ten years. I have heard it, and so have the men in that house and you, but no more that I know of, because his nearest neighbor is three miles away and nobody ever gets in that neighborhood to stay all night. I suppose I would not have been there if he had not asked me as a friend to come up on one of the anniver- sary nights and hear it, so he could talk to me about it and advise with me whether to move away or stick it out. I advised him to stay and had very nearly forgotten all about it, for really the subject hasn't come to my notice in four or five years, and you can wager money I never went beck there to listen to it any more. I'll be blamed if I couldn’t see that engineer and his engine whirling to destruction the nigat 1 stayed there, because I knew what to ex- pect and sat up to wait for it with every nerve at its highest tension. Darn queer kind of a ghost, isn’t it?’ “T told him I thought it was,” concluded the drummer, ‘‘and when I suggested to him that I might perhaps tell the story to some one else and it might get into the newspapers, he laughed and said that was just the same as keeping it a dead secret, for nobody in that neighborhood took a newspaper or could read one if he did.” ——>.__ A SHOT AT THE SENATE. An Oratorical Kentuckian Who Found the Senate Too Deliberative. A lot of Kentuckians were talking the other evening about the great men of th.ir state. “One of the finest old gentlemen on earth,” said a distinguished man tn the group, “is Gen. John S. Williams, or ‘Cerro Gordo,’ as he is popularly known, and when I was in the Senate galtery yesterday, listening to the solemnity of things when Billy Mason hasn’t got the floor, or Allen is not pawing up the carpet, or Tillman isn’t thundering the plaster off the walls, I was reminded of the time when Gen. Williams was a Kentucky representative in that distinguished body. The general, as we all know in Kentucky, ts a spell-binder, and when he turns his voice and his bril- liant oratory loose on the blue grass air it stirs things up forty feet below the ground and clean up to the canopy of the heavens. “When the general came to the Senate he had an idea that what was good in Ken- tucky was good anywhere, so he was ready at any time to let loose any quantity of eloquence. He had opportunity in plenty, as it happened, but the result of his efforts was not satisfactory. He kept on trying, but still it wouldn’t work, and one day the general gave way in the cloak room before a dozen or more listeners. “Be gad, suh,” he said, hetly, ‘I think it is a shame, suh, that the galleries of this Senate chamber are not allowed to applaud, suh. Why, suh, when I make a speech in Kentucky, suh, the applause is such, suh, that if the same privileges were allowed in these galleries, suh, I would be able, suh, to lift the roof right off of this magnificent marble structure, suh. But as it is, suh, the stupidity, the dignity and the frigidity of this Senate absolutely paralyzes my in-- tellect, suh.””” ee CAUGHT IN THE ACT. ‘Two Ladies Discover How They Had Made Themselves Disagreeab! ‘Two ladies were standing on the door- step of a house in Georgetown, where but a@ moment béfore they had rung the bell, and were waiting to be admitted. One was talking along very intently, when the taller woman interrupted her. “Be careful,” she sald, “somebody may hear you.” “I'm very particular,” other. “I looked all around before I said anything and there was nobody in sight.” “That's what I thought once, too, and I made a serious mistake. I was calling once, just as we now are, and was with a wo- man who could and did say the meanest things about people I ever heard talk. I'm not given to that kind of thing usually, but I do love @ bit of gossip, and sometimes I am led into saying things I shouldn't. On this occasion the lady we were to call on was not a favorite of mine, and when ‘the other woman said something sarcastic I chimed right in and said I thought she was the silliest and most extravagant and homeliest and dowdiest and stupidest wo- man of my entire acquaintance, and that 1 only called from a sense of duty anyhow. And a few other things, like that, I said. “Well, we were let in after a long wait and the reception we got was the chilliest I ever met with. I couldn't understand it, for we were really on very good terms, as those things go, and we got out as soon as we could. That night I told my husband about it when he came home, and he won- at it, too, Next event speaking tubes tell on me. That explained it all in @ sec- ond. doctor used to live in that same tul ibe at the like it might have been responded the | ‘what- people might make mi by listening me, and she didn't dare fh tell me tel ie knew what I thought oft her, and I care if she did know,/o1 since that time I have been more carefii “There's a tube, tip there, see?” — th From the Detroit Free Pre She is a maiden aunt who has ceased to hide her spectacles whe @ gentleman calls and likes to knit rat than be idle. “Of course, thére's: ¢.romance.in your life, auntie,” declargd/ther dashing niece the other day.--"Phere's a romance in every woman's life. . Now, be good and tell me_yours. and the ‘kindly face “It’s nothing,” blushed almost into youthfulness. “There was a very attractive young man with whom I had grown-up. We had been thrown together a great deal, and before he started abroad to putsue his studies as an artist he came to spend -the evening with me and take leave. -1 recall that we talked of everythllig that offered an excuse for talking untii he rdse ta go. “Then he took: me‘by:the hand, He fal- tefed, turning red and then turning white. It seemed he could not-speak then and he took @ nervous turn about the room. As he came baok to me,there was a steadier and more determinéd took in his grave blue eyesz Again he took my -trethbiag hand in his strong grasp and pronounced my_name—' ’ “Yes, auntie.” “Here father and your uncle entered un- ceremoniously, discussing some earthly matter of business. Manlike, they spreail themselves out in front of the grate, talked to Hugh about his trip and remained there until he.was gone.” es ee “Oh, the horrid brutes!” “Thank you, dear...Now you can share the curiosity I have™indulged in so many years. If he had spoken»what would he have said?” % pee a Grampa’s Farm. (Frank H. Sweetin American Agriculturist.) Ob, you don't know the fin un grampa’s farm, For grempa says, “Let ’em; it ain't no harm.' An’ cousin Bob starts up an’ cries, “Here goes! An’ mamma she only just says, ‘Such clothes!"’ We've a Crusoe’s island an’ robber’s cave, An’ Tower of London, an'—don’t you know, When one of us wants to Jet on he’s brave He crawls under the sawmill, scared an’ slow. Ob, you don’t know half the fun out there, mpa he never tells us, ‘Take care: cousin Bob laughs and says to “*Carou: mamma, you see, is off in the house. We fish’ in the brooks an’ play in the sands, An’ try to catch tadpoles out of the springs; We hide in the bushes like Injun bands An’ fight with the hornets an’ get thelr stings. Oh, there's no end of fun on grampa’s place, ‘of grampa he says, “‘Now scoot on a race: * ‘An’ cousin Bob grins an’ gays, “There she blows: An’ mamma, she only just says, “Such clothes! Unfortunate. From Judge. “Have you had any fun this vacation, Davie?” asked the teacher. “Not much. You see, we had a baby at our house ‘fore we could get the fun started.” ——_+«-—____ The Dilemma of Hi Lo Ping. From Life. Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. An Unalterable Mood. . Mr. Blykins was locking cut into space in silence when his wife found him. “Haven't you anything to read?’ she in- quired. “Nothing whatever,” he replied, with a great deal more solemnity than the octa- mn demanded. It was plain that he was in a deeply pes- simistic mod, from which it was desirabl to win him, if possible. “Here fs a newspaper,” she véntured. “I’ve tried newspapers,” he returned. “i don’t want any. I haven't found one of them that doesn’t say something with which I den’t agree. I’m tired of having my opinions affronted two or three times in every column.” “Perhaps you'd like a novel. I bought a new one, and it’s very interesting.” “I don’t want any novels, either. Every one of them is tinged with false ideas of life. They’re libels on human nature. The mcdern novel is nothing moré than an irre- sponsible caricature!” And he glared at bis wife as if it were her fault. “Perhaps you'd like me to bring you a history from the Mbrary?” “History!” he repeated, contemptuously. “What are the data with which historians werk? Tne mere flatteries of subsidized sycophants of power! How do we know that two-thirds of the history we read isn’t merely a reflex of the political preju- dices of defunct chroniclers? I have no doubt that many of the men who wrote tbout the prominent characters of the past were ready to hcld office if they got the chance. A large number of them did receive incomes from the government. And you know as well as I do that a man who is looking for office is seldom qualified to sit back in the jury box of literature and teke a calm, impartial view of current events. : “Well,” his wife rejoined, somewhat ex- asperated, “here’s a book that I can com-- mend to you. It isn’t very interesting, but it tells indisputable facts in a cold-blooded way that oughi to satisfy even your sus. picious nature. I don’t like to see you with your mind in utter idleress, and if I w in your place I'd sit down and read the city directory.” He took the volume and languidly turned over some of the leaves. Z “No,” he said, handing it back, “it’s like all the rest. There’s a man who used to be a bunco steerer who js referred to in this beok as Mr. Green. A colored man of my acquaintance is put dcwn as Mr. White. The most inveterate bicycle rider in the city is described as ‘Walker,’ and a citizen alluded to as ‘Black’ is, to my personal knowledge, an albino. It’s no use, Maria. I can’t rely on anything I see in print.” And he heaved another sigh and pro- ceeded to look once rrore into vacancy. * * The Bulbul in the Swim. “It is without fear,” writes the Bulbul of Pohick, “that I take my pen in hand to write a Scotch dialect piece. The great de- mand at the present time is for things that is up to date, and if me and the nine muses has not managed to hit the pace this time I am much mistaken. It is an evident fact that ‘anybody who wants to get along in the portry business now has got to hustle and keep up with the procession. He must consulc the popular taste and not_let his fancy wander at his own sweet will, as the old-time writers were enabled to do, owing to their taking up the business before the field got overcrowded. My latest composi- tion is entitled: THERE ARE ITHER SCOTCH DIALECT WRITERS, Gentle, xealer, I have heard it insinuated, of late, There is too much portry wrote which is not up to date. Everybody must admit that the public does enjoy Finding beautiful thoughts put into lan- guage which it is accustomed to employ. And although I never heard it talked in our neighborhood, I expect That there really are a number of people who speak the Scotch dialect. Though I must confess, before further I go, ‘That how they learn it so it comes handy and natural I do not know. But the fact that I am not familiar with it Should not prevent my writing it now and @ wee bit. For I have ever held that any first-class Poet or poetess, as the case may be, can sing About any auld thing. My politics is to protect home manufac- ture, and I do not see why Americans should Not make just as good Scotch dialect as anybody could. Of course some critics may sneer at these lines of mine, But critics have done thus sin the days of lang syne. My own heart tells me I have wrote some rather bonnie portry before now, And I don’t-care muckle for other people’s opinion, anyhow. Indeed, I once heard a man who got paid for writing declare That on the whole tribe of critics he was getting sair. Ana once he said to a critic’s face, and It raised a great storm, “Ah, wi I dinna ken; you’re nat sae __ warm.” But in speaking of braw Highlanders I must confess That I do no exactly approve of the way they dress. Their clothes stop short right at the knees, And when the cold winds blaw, I should think they’g freeze. I may be prejfMiced, but if I knew a Scotch gentleman I should think more of him If he wore a trouser on ilka limb. * A Cramb of Consolation. ‘Twixt the lines of a letter ‘tis safest to read; - That is what the wise people have told; ‘Neath the literal text you must go, if in- deed. The writer's intent you'd behold. And I've studied the message the dear creature wrote, In search of a glimmer of cheer, Rut she even began, I am sorry to note, Plain “Mr.," omitting the “Dear.” She scarcely alluded to what I had said Of my wish for a glance from her eye. She writes that she “hopes we can be friends” instead Of giving me back sigh for sigh. The affection I her to grant me some day. She does not allude to. My dream Seems to fade when I read how she trusts that she may “Ever look upon me with esteem.” So far, there's no comfort at which I may cal As I sink toward the depths of despair. Joy has closed the door on me and fastened the latch; ‘ I must wander with none to lst where. But hope cannot die! And I think as I gaze At the lines she sa cruelly penned, ‘That she surely meant more than the mere phrase, When “Yours truly” she wrote at the _ end. : ee. A Case in Point. “Willie,” said Miss Cayenne, reprovingly, | to young Mr. Wishington, “I am very sorry to see you cultivating a new-trait of char- acter.’ “I wasn't aware that I was developing qualities.”” any unusual is the very decided one which exists be- tween aspiration and achievement. I have detected you on several occasions in an ef- fort to be sarcastic.’ “‘Well—I confess I’m rather tired of being considered dull." “But you should not assume what is not natural to you. It is likely to be resented. People forgive the thorns sometimes for the sake of the roses. But that does -not make them feel any more kindly toward he Canada thistle.” “Perhaps this is professional jealousy,” asInuated Willie, in a’ manner that was ‘ar more disagreeable than he intended. “You say some very incisive things your- self, you know. “Because other. people do so is no reason why you should attempt it. To prevent life from becoming too monotonous, nature has bestowed a more or less limited degree of individuality on every one of her crea- tions. In your case superciliousness is not a normal attribute. “It seems to me that superciliousu superciliousness wherever you find it. “Willie.” “What ts it?” “Were you ever at a menagerie?” “Yes” “Well, go again some time.” “What for?” “I want you to take particular notice of how utterly unimpressive the elephant looks when he fs trying to turn up his nose.” is *x * * The Artistic Temperament. A colored man was reciining against a fence near the brick yard on a sunny after- noon, playing < mouth harmonica. He was oblivious to his surroundings. His soul soared with his melodies into the dis- tant blue. To the white man who chance to pass it did not occur that the musician, having soived for himseif the problem of happiness without riches, was entitled to enjoy the henefits of his discov- ery without interrup- tion, “You're a pretty good player on that instrument,” he re- marked. The performer did no more than let his eyes drop in response to the compliment. His was the indifference of the virtuoso who takes applause as a matter of course. “I don’t know much about music,” the in- truder persisted. “I'd rather hear just a plain tune like that than something clas- sical by a big band. I used to try to play the harmonica when I was a boy, but I didn’t make any progress. It’s one of those accomplishments that comes natural to some people, while others might practice a lifetime without learning. And there’s no vse of trying to understand why. You can’t define genius.” During this speech the colored man had gone along with his music, playing with sufficient softness to allow him to hear what was being said. The observations were not of sufficient importance to move him to reply. “My. brother is very fond of that xind of music, too,”. the visitor resumed. “I tell you what.I wish you would do. Come around to our house and play for us some evening. “You all's brothuh kin come along hyuh an’ listen,” was thé unzoncerned answer. “I mos’ allus plays "bout dis tim ‘Oh, that’s all right; I under: pay you for it.” “I doesn’ want no pay.” “Oh, I wouldn’t think of asking you to make the trip for no‘aing.” “I isn’t gwinete--make de trip ’tall.”” “Why not?” “Case dishere’s de ter play dis. music. It’ res’. da. ru ay I loafs. I likes how I takes mer takin’ money foh it, den de same as evuh, an’ de ting I knows I’ll hafter be took ter de ospital foh ovuh-exertion.” * * * An Elaborated Simile. Derringer Dan was deeply interested in the achievements of the Indian base ball player, Mr. Sockalexis. He beamed ap- proval on the newly-civilized athlete, who, immob‘le of countenance, alert of eye and fleet of limb, seemed to play the game more by instinct than by rule. Derringer Dan was not alone in his admiration. A miudle-aged man with gold spectacles and a silk hat of obsolete pattern, sat next him and gave frequent, though subdued signs of approval of the red man’s progress in refinement. “Y-t-i-p!" vociferated Derringer Dan as Mr. Scckalexis stole a base. Then turning to the middle-aged gentleman he exclaim- ed, “Mister, I don’t know you, but I’ve simply got to ask somebody if that warn’t one of the finest things you ever saw. An’ bein’s you’re the only man handy I hope ye won't take no offense ef I put the ques- tion to ycu, open, fair an’ square, as man to men; wasn’t thdt great?” “Ttere’s no doubt about it,” was the re- sponse. “Thé man of the day is Lo.” “Excuse me, pardner; but did I under- stand you to make an allusion to that In- jun as Icw?” “Yes. It’s only a figure of speech.” “Wal, I don’t know much about the ex- pressions that’s goin’ the rounds in this part of the ccuntry; an’ I don’t say that it ain't all right to call "im ‘low.’ But ter my way o” thinkin’ that doesn’t go anything like fur enough. When it comes ter a base ball game that Injun is a heap more’n low. He’s high, jack an’ game besides, an’ any other point chet happens ter turn up.’ ”* .* x * An Echo of the Sugar Trials. “It’s too bad,” said Meandering Mike, re- gretfully; “too altogether blame bad.” “What're you sorroring about dis time?” inquired Plodding Pete. “Lawyers,” was the answer. “It don’t seem ter me dat youse orter be so much agin de perfession. Dere’s one or two occasions when young fellers dat was new at de biz helped you out jes’ fur de fun of it.” lawyers. Dem what you has jist referred to was young fellers dat tuck an interest in de world an’ knew whut wus goin’ on. Whut I objecks ter. 1s dese lawyers dat sticks deir faces inter a big book an’ don't pay mo attention ter nuttin’ dat don't come out of dat. One o’ dem is de cause o’ Hurryin’ Higgsy bein’ in de lockup now.” “I never did tink much o° ‘y, any- how. He allus acted ter me 3 he wus ready ter break loose most any time an‘ 60 ter work. Wot did he do?” “Well, I mus’ say it was disgraceful; [but dat don’t excuse de lawyer. He rol £0 industrious dat he broke into a house. “Did de lawyer tell ‘im ter plead sullty “No. But dere wasn’t scarcely no evi-+ dence agin ‘im at all. Wot tripped ‘im up wus de prosecutin’ attorney’s cross-exam- ination. He got Higgsy on de stand an’ before he knowed whut had happened ter "mm_he’d give de whole ting away.” “Well, I don’t see how his lawyers could help dat.” “Ye don't! Has dere been anyt’ing else in de newspapers dis summer excep’ how ter help jis such a case? Ef his lawyer been up ter date, he'd of told Higasy r tell de prosecutin’ attorney dat when- ever he transacted business of any kind it was his practice ter write down de par- tic'lars In a note book an’ den forget ‘em, Ef dey asked ‘im fur de note book, he could say dat he wus sorry, but he put ft in his other clothes an’ den ‘lent de clothes ter a friend who was in another state, Den all he'd had ter do would of been ter lean back in majestic silence an’ have de jury directed ter turn ‘im loose. It would of fixed him all right, fur de same ting has en before an’ it worked out of * * Her Curiosity Aroused. “No,” remarked the young man who is very much given to interspersing his con- versation with quotations, “I shall not ce aw for the sum- it is too bad!” laimed the young woman in the bieycle suit, sympathetically, ot at all. This thing of sitting around on piazzas and doing nothing except wishing that there was some way of killing time faster is not at all to my taste. As a matter cf fact, it isn’t any warmer in the city than it is else.vhere, and there is always something zoing on. I like the bustle and the hurry and the hum.” “But you must have rest, you know. You will wear yourself out if you don’t.” | “Oh, well,” he went on, with that come- what-may manner which can usually be re- lied on to impress a very young woman, “it is better to wear out than rust out.” “But there is no need of doing either, ts there?” she inquired, apprehensively. “Perhaps not. But it is my disposition. My motto is ‘Better twenty years of Eu- rope than a cycle of Cathay.’ ” “Why, Arthur! How suddenly you change | the subject!” “I wasn’t aware that I had changed the subject.” “Why, yes. You said ‘Better twenty years of Europe than a cycle of Catha: “Aren’t you familiar with that she reluctantly confessed. lieve you made it up.” “Oh, hat isn’t mine.” “I be- “Well, y how, I'd like to see one.” “One what?” “A Cathay. I never heard of it, but it must be a very fine make of cycie to cost as much as a trip to Europe —_——— FAIRY RINGS. A Desirable Species Be | Write Mushroom to shington. for The By Several spe ef mushrooms grow in such a fashion on our lawns and meadows that they often form regular and almost perfect rings or circles. These are gener- ally caileld “fairy rings,” but the term should only be applied to the rings of one Particular species, known to bot as Marasmius Oreades. To swt, however, our own purpose we shall name these fungi fairy caps as to their form, and fairy | bread as to their substance, no dainty lips of our modern fairies should desp'se the delicate morsel these plants offer us either |in their natural state or when prepared for the table by an expert hand. The little mushrooms of the fairy tribe deserve a great deal more attention than they: have receiv- ed in the past. Their peccliar habits, their pleasing appearance and great use- fulness as a delicate fcod, should make them our favorites and proteges, We have also the opportunity of observ- ing a number of fairy rings In our own beautiful city.*Many private and public parks are decorated with them. The great circle on the Mall and the White House grounds have many of these, though they might be obliterated for a time. Senator Morrill seems to have been par- ticularly favored by the fairies. They have planted not less than three rings on the lawn in front of his residence on Thomas Circle. Persistent little plants they are, these fairy caps. Once they have a foot- hold on a favorable spoi they will stay for years, enlarging their circle with each new crop. Their presence is rather detri- mental to the sod and grass will not thrive inside such rings. The process by which fairy caps manage to place themselves, in spite of numerous obstacles, in circle fash- fon can not be satisfactorily explained — aptereeeren f i: radiating root- lets are the principal factor in this little wonder of nature. angie it requires but little discrimination to identify any single fungus of the fairy tribe. We might almost say a blind man can readily distinguish it from the other common lot of small fungi, such as lawn nails, ink drippers and extinguishers, all with delicate thin stems. In the fairy caps the stem is also thin, but strong, fibrous, often twisted, and the lower part hairy and almost woody. In pulling a cap from the ground, the root stalk comes always out and all that may be attached to it. Groups of from three to five frequently grow to- gether, and are solidly attached to cach other at the base of the stem. The color of the cap is not unlike chamois leather or untanned kid; the underside and upper part of stem are nearly of the same color as the cap. It being a white-spored fungus, the underlining does not turn dark or black, but remains light brown. What entitles these mushrooms mcre than auy other spe- cies to the name of fairy caps is their un- usual faculty of reviving and regaining al- most their original f-eshness whenever they are placed by the stem in water, and also owing to their preservative qualities, as they remain in good condition indetinitely when kept in a dry piace. To persuade yourself that fairy bread is really sweet end pleasant, just taste a small piece of it Taw, and you will soon Jearn that it is good and wholesome as well. A bunch ef these plants give a more agreeable flavor to meat sauce than do the French champignons. If you are so fortunate as to find enough of them to make a meal a very dainty dish can be made by frying them and them on toast. The caps should be cut from the stems, then thoroughly rinsed and be kept in salted water for two hours, after which they are in a ition to be prepared for the feast of modern fairies “I ain’ got nuttin’ ter say agin good | and other mortals. FRED J. BRAENDLE. ——== “Tenting on the old camp grouné.”—Life.