Evening Star Newspaper, June 26, 1897, Page 14

14 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 26, 1897-24 PAGES. Written Ex ively for The Evening Star. “I have been asiced,” said the weather prognosticator, who ventured in The Star last week the prediction that there would Likely be a hailstorm on Sunday, July 4, and that it would be a murky and other- wise heavy day on the 5th, “to revise my prediction, if possible, but, after carefully studying all the signs, 1 find that there is no chance for a revision. I studied out the prediction in January last, and everything In a weather way which has occurred since has only proven a verification of it. I am not willing to state that the hail storm will be a destructive one, though I am as sure of a slight hail storm as I ever was of anything in this line. Weather calcula- tions have not yet reached the point of positive e ness, and may never go so far as that, though the few who give any consi anle time to the study are much more frequently rews d by verification | than was the case some years ago, when less careful records of the weather were ke The Fourth of July celebrations, which are in preparation, will not be in- terfered with by the weather, for if it rains on that day it will be late in the af- ternoon, possibiy an hour before sundown.” x eK OK K much amused,” remarked a “TI have been professor of the Normal Academy to a Star reporter, “at the stories recently put afloat of the genius of Betsey Itoss, who, accord- ing to tradition, made the first American flag, and who amused as well as interested General shington at her success in cutting out a five-pointed star with one fold of the cloth or paper. She may have done this, but I doubt it very much, for I have seen hundreds try it only to satisfy themselves that {t could not be done. It is easy enough to cut out a six, eight or ten- pointed st deed, of any even num- hered points, ich this is red point- ake a piece of pe ‘Annapolis for any one who could fold a paper so that a five-pointed star could be cut out. Hundreds of the young men tried it, but so far none of them have ever claimed the prize. The same prize was open to the class of this year, but I have not | sked to award Sailor folks may not se much more patriotic than other people, though the flag and stars are more in their line than in that of any other alling, a ev give a great dea! of at- tention to ve always been at work on thi -pointed star puzzle, and they are willing to admit that if Betsey Koss really did as is so earnestly claimed for her, that she was superior to them in this particular. It is a pity to break down any such a pretty tradition as Betsey Ross’ work, but the facts are all stoutly against it. Not only cannot a five-pointed star be cut out at one clip, but even the most expert have the greatest difficulty in outlining a star of that kind with the aid of instruments. If any one has any doubt on the subject let them try it themselves. | The 15 puzzle is as nothing compared with it.” ** * * € “After a or woman has reached the age of fifty.” remarked a gentleman who | has passed the three score mark, to a Star reporter, “things have a different look from did when they were younger, » they may not be always con- scious of their age,they cannot see things as the: much a: me of them may desire to. My own experience and observation is similar to that of all others, I suppose, in ene respect, and that is in observing the ages of those who die. Now, the average person who is younger than fifty reads the annour t of the death of a friend or other person for the information that is contained in it. He absorbs some of the facts from it. In a person who has passed the half century of life one of the most strikirg facts in the announcement is the age of the person deceased. That fact re- mains longer on the mind than any other, and the nearer the age of the deceased is to that of the reader the more impression it produces. Old men and women are often very much depressed after reading or hear- ing of the death of persons who are of thelr own age, though they seldom admit the real cause of the depression. It is not grief over the death as much as it is a reminder of the solemn fact that the mile- stones of hfe are being passed. As for my- self I have no fears of death, for I feel that I have done the best I could do during my life, and if I had it to live over again probably could not do any better. I admit, however, that if announcements of deaths did not always contain references to the ages of the deceased it would please me better, though I have sense enough to know that that part of them could not be omit- ted.” eR & The recent death of Christian K. Ross, the father of the lost Charley Ross, prob- ably ends up one of the greatest mysteries of modern time remarked a detective of- ficer to a Star reporter. ‘Though it was over 0 when Charley Ross Was lost or stclen, many of the facts are as fresh in my mind as they were when the mystery was at its height. I had a theory in regard to the so-called mystery, as had almost every detective, but I could never develop it. I started off to find some of the family servants of the Ross family, but strange as it may appear they were as badly lost as Charley Ross was; at least, I T was able to find any of them, or, in- learn anything of their whereabouts. Though there were all kinds of rewards offered in the case they were all conti en the finding of the lost Charle ‘The result was that all the investigations had to be made at private expense, and many everal big detective firms went broke on the case. Finally. it became actually dangerous to have any- thing to do with the case, especially if you happened to be within the borders of of Pennsylvania, for the police of that state had a law passed by the leg'slature which compelled every one if t y had any information in con- h the case to surrender it free of Philadelphia on their de- The outcome of this law was o4S with theor‘es, and there were is of them, could not afford to go | delphia to develop them, for it was * a felony to conceal any information, and detectives and others did not care to risk a great deal of work on a case in the hopes of obtaining the reward and then have to give up all they knew of the case on demand, without even getting their car fare paid for their trouble. The law put an end to theorles and closed up the mys- tery closer than it previously was. It made the retention of any information fn the case a conspiracy, and men were convicted and had to serve terms in prison for no other crime than actually helping to solve the mystery.” mand for it. * ee * * “The berry pickers’ season is now at its helght in the surrounding country,” ob- served a commission dealer to a Star re- Porter, “and it has been a welcome season for those who earn a Iittle money that way. Raspberries, gooseberries and cur- rants all ripen about the same time, gen- erally a week or so after strawberries have run out, and they have to be picked the day they ripen or they are lost. The berry pickers, who are mostly women, children and ofd men, go from farm to farm as they are needed. For the small rasp- berries and gooseberries, they receive 2 gents per quart, currants paying 2% cents. But 1% cents is pald per box for straw- At these prices the women can earn about 75 cents per day, and the chil- dren from 20 to 50 cents per day. The sea- zon only lasts about two weeks. Cherries INGS FARD EEN» are picked as a general thing by small boys, as the trees wiil not stand the weight of heavy persons, except in the case of very old and large trees. The cultivated black- berries are already ripe and are coming to market from Fairfax county and other parts of Virginia. The Maryland black- berries will begin to come to market next week.” AMD Nn xe ek eK “There is a great deal of character in the feet, and the study of them is very inter- esting,” observed a well-known chiropodist to a Star reporter, “but of late years'since People began to wear ready-made shoes there is not much opportunity for it. The time was when nearly all persons, and es- pecially those whose character was worth studying, had their shoes made to order. Then the individuality of the feet had op- portunity to show itself. Nowadays shoes are all made of a pattern and they keep their shape until they are about worn out, thus preventing the foot from showing its peculiarities. Whoever saw a fine chess or a billiard player who did not have a long flat foot? And, again, who ever saw a man or woman with round chubby feet who was not quarrelscme, heedless and cruel? A broad, square-toed foot indicates honesty, good humor and a well-balanced mind, as clearly as does the face of such a person. A musician has a very marked foot, and tenor singers all have feet alike. Look at the foot of a violinist once and you can hardly mistake them after that. Take a sporting man, a gambler, if you like, and you will find his feet run to a point, indl- cating that he. will take chances and will back up his judgment if given the oppor- tunity. Study the foot of any of the best orators in Congress, or of the most famous divines, and you will find a very delicate- shaped foot. Then look at the foot of the fop in mankind or his counterpart in wo- mankind, and you cannot fail to observe the similarity. They are kidney shaped, all feet, with little or no intellectuality, noth- ing showing originality or observation. The artist who excels only in copying the works of others nas a foot similar, while a painter or sculptor of force and distinc- tion has a rugged and aneven-looking foot. Of course the face and hands are easier to study, but to a careful observer the foot shows the peculiarities of a person as marked and unerring.” : x eK K “Photographers are in their own way when they give their customers several proofs to select from,” volunteered a pho- tographer to a Star reporter. “The pho- tographer is much more competent to tell which is the best picture of a sitter than is the customer, and in four cases out of five the customer selects the poorest pic- ture, from an artistic standpoint. And un- less there is art in a photograph it tires on any one, while an artistic picture seems | to grow better all of the time. Who would think of asking a portrait painter to pose the subject in three or four ways, paint the portraits ard then allow the purchaser to select the one they thought best? The best work is where the photographer puts his art and skill into a picture and finishes up that one. People come into our gal- leries day after day and say, ‘Why can't you make photcgraphs of us like these we | see of actors and actresses?” Little d they know that the actors and actresses | whose photographs they so much admire, when they have their pictures taken, sub- mit in every detail to our conditions. Of course, they have an advantage in the matter of posing for effect, for posing is their profession. But they say to us, ‘Make a picture that will please me and yourself as well.’ Throwing themselves into our hands in this way, they generally get the best work and effects that galleries can iurn out. Should they say, Give us a dozen sittings, and we will pick out the picture which suits us best,” they would get the same kind of work that the ordi- ! nary customer gets. The photographer knows more of his profession than does the buyer of the pictures, and I assure you, where the whole responsibility is thrown on the photographer the result is much more satisfactory to all concerned. Cer- tainly it is more artistic, and it is art, rather than photographs, which should be considered. The customer pays his or her money, and should have the best side shown—not the poorest. To me nothing is so painful as a stupid-looking photograph, and it is this kind the average customer makes us print.” — IN THE LONE STAR. A Little Notice of How They Do Things in Texas. The gentleman from Tom Green county, Texas, had the floor and pretty much everything else he wanted. “You people in the east,” he was saying with earnest emphasis, “do not seem to realize that down in our state we don’t do business by the.same methods that you do, but when it comes to doing things on the really strict q t, I think we have got a few examples down our way that will make you feel like apologizing. For instance, one of many was like this: We used to have a man in business in our community that was the graspingest old cuss I ever saw, or anybody else. He was not only reaching out for all in sight, but when he got his clutches on a poor devil he never let up till the victim was squeezed drier than a local option town on a Sunday morning. He was a bachelor (wouldn’t have been half as ornery if he hadn’t been), and slept up over the big store that he kept s0o’s he could watch it always. “Well, one morning when the clerks come to work they found the place all shut up and knowing something must be wrong or the old man would be on hand to let them in, they forced a window and scouting around they found him up stairs in his den hanging to a rafter, deader than a salt mackerel. They thought at first that he had done it himself, but on second thoughts they knew he was too ciose to even give up the ghost unless he had to, so they looked around for signs and clues and things like that and mighty quick they struck a card hanging from his coat lappel on. hich was written: ‘Not wishing to par- ade our good deeds before the public we leave this token here. Signed: Pro Bono Publico.” “Goed people hey were who wrote that,” ‘concluded the gentleman from Tom Green,” as you will see by the spelling, and if you have got anything to show that is quieter and more gentlemanly and refined than that in any of your effete east country, please pass it this way, won't you?” — Those Darned Pickles. From Wave, When Governor Sam Houston first visited Washington he dined in a starched collar with the President of the United States and the leading politicians. At the dinner he tasted champagne for the first time in his life. ‘‘Forty-rod” whisky was good enough for politicians where he came from. But he enjoyed himself, and drank his share of the wine. Toward the end of the dinner olives were handed round. Housion had never seen olives, but tried one and put it back upon his plate. The President looked down the table. ‘How are you get- ting on, Governor Houston?” he asked. “Wal, Presiden’ said Sam, cider, but darn your pickles!” ry "I ike your Offended. From Fitegende Blatter. A MESSAGE BY GAS PIPE “Seeing it’s you,” said the telegraph op- erator to the reporter, ‘ll help you with a story if can. I've been @ quiet man most of my life and haven't had much to diverge me from the even tenor of my way, but one time: I came very near it. It happened ten years ago when I had a job in New York, and not a dozen blocks from Madison Square. I boarded in the section between the square and the New York Central station, and my job was a day one, letting me off at 6 p.m. I had a nice room and being fond of books I used to pass mest of my evenings at home read- ing. I had an easy chair that I pulled up close under the gas jet, aud there I have sat many a night reading until midnight or later. It was in a quiet street, away from street car and other night rackets, and 1 felt a good deal as if I were in a country town after 11 o'clock. “One night as I sat reading I was dis- turbed by hearing a peculiar knocking on my gas pipe, very faint and indistinct, but quite persistent. At first I hought it might be some one in my own house, but I waited to hear other movements, and as the noise continued I made an examination of the house and found the few pecple who lived in it long since asleep. I returned to my reading, and the noise continued. Around the corner a block away they were laying some gas plpe, and I thought it might be there. A dozen men were on the night shift and I went strolling down that way about half an hour efter I had heard the first tapping, but it was rather more to get a glass of beer for a nightcap than for information on the noise that disturbed me. The men were moving a lot of: earth Preparatory to cutting the main and. the pipe was not yet exposed, but they said — would be down to it in an hour or le: said nothing about my disturbance, but after I got my beer I went back and began to get ready for bed. The rapping still continued, though faintly, and I was curious enough to put my ear close to the gas burner and listen to it. Then what was merely curiosity before, immediately became the most intense interest, for the tapping wes nothing more than the ticking of some one who understood telegraphy, and the call was the one word ‘help’ repeated over and over again. Quick as a flash 1 caugnt up a tack hammer lying on my bureau and broke in on the call of the un- known. ‘What is it? I asked, and the an- swer came back at once, ‘Mhank God.’ 1 knew, however, that that was not the an- swer to my question, and in response to my further questions the unknown pro- ceeded to tell me that she was a woman shut up in a house whose location she did not know, except that it was not very far from a raiiroad station, for the peopie with her had put her in a carriage at the train that day and driven her to the place in about half an hour, though whether they had taken her around town to confuse her or not she could not say. She said the last town she knew of being in was Buffalo, as she had heard the slesping car porter tell @ passenger. She had come there from Detroit, where she had been in some kind of an institution, and her home before that had been in another institution near Chicago. Previous to that she had lived in various places and had been across the ocean once or twice, when she was a little |. and for three or four years she had in St. Louis. hen five years old she lived in some pleasant town in the south, whose name she could uot recall, and here she remem- | bered to have lived with her father and mother in a fine house. Her mother died there, and then something happened which she did not understand, and after that she had been spirited all over the world. She had received a good education and had learned telegraphy, typewriting, photog- raphy and anything else she cared to take up, and had been treated well, though al- ways as a prisoner, and had never made any acquaintances except such as her cap- tors brought to her. “On many occasions she had attempted to communicate with the authorities, but she was so ignorant of the methods to pur- sue and of localities that she had never been able to do so. As for telling her troubles to any one whom she had met, she had never been able to do so, further than to excite in them the suspicion that she was crazy, and the surveillance upon her was on that account. The thought of finding the way out by her knowledge of telegraphy had never come to her until the day on the night of which I was the recipient of this strange message, and she had hit upon it by reading a story in a newspaper of a prisoner in a dungeon com- municating with his friends on the outside by striking on the door, while all the prison officials never once thought what their prisoner was doing. She had been tapping on her gas pipe for three hours before I had responded, and she expressed herself as happy in the belief that now, after all these years of mystery and wan- dering, she would learn the true story of her life, and a lot more of the same kind, which I heard with the most intense in- terest, and insisted on her telling me, so I could tell the police captain when I should go after him in a very few minutes to come and hear her strange story, or part of it, at least, for himself. “She was then, as nearly as she could judge, twenty-one years of age, and when she was twenty-one something was going to happen to her—she didn’t know what— but from the little she could catch from those with her, and the unusual precau- tions they had been taking recently, she was very much in dread that something evil was coming to her. She asked me what town she was then in, and when I told her it was New York she begged me to go at once to the police and tell them to make a search for her, as she had learned that whatever was going to hap- pen to her would happen in New York, be- cause she had overheard them say New York was so big that——" “And right there,” said the operator, in- terrupting himself, ‘the tapping ceased, or, rather, it was so obscured by a louder knocking that I could hear nothing of it, and in a few minutes all was still. The men at work had cut the main, and all communication with my unknown victim of some infernal plot or other was sun- dered forever. “Of course, I told the police, but what good would that do? Think of how any houses are near the railroad station in New York city, and how utterly futile it would be to find that finite needle in that infinite haystack. ———— The Dreary Desert of Thibet. Recent publications of the Russian Geo- graphical Society contain most interest- ing accounts of exploraficns undertaken under its auspices by Roborovsky and Koz- loff in one of the most inhospitable regions of the earth’s surface, the elevated Thib- etan plateau, which along the “Russian mountains” lines up to the northeast face of the giant snowclad Kuen-lun. Over this region of dismal dreariness, elevated from 14,000 to 17,000 feet above sea level, man’s {cot is hardly ever known to pass, and even to the natives of Kashgaria it is virtually a sealed province. The surface is largely ccvered with deposits of loess, and earth of extremely fine particles, identical with that which forms the dominant landscape feature of a large part of China, and very similar to that which makes up the “bluffs” of the upper end middle Mississippi vailey. In this loess originate sandstorms of ter- rible severity, the dust being carried in such volumes into the air as to cause com- plete darkness, objects being rendered in- visible at a distance of more than ten yards. Entire forests of poplars are buried in these dust deposits, decaying and rotting in dry mass of earth which surrounds them. In the desert which lies south of the Uzu- tagh, and occupies a position upward of 16,000 feet high, hardly a trace of animal life was to be found in the middle of June, almost the only forms of moving creatures being scattering, broken-down orongo an- telopes, which approached to within a few feet of the travelers, seeming too weary to pay. attention to their presence. Snow along His over this most inhospitable tract, and rain is seemingly unknown. In the month of June snow fell every day, evaporati immediately. On June 15, at an elevation of 17,080 feet, the thermometer marked 11° Fahrenheit. Alcng the depression of the Cherchen- daria a striking contrast is presented in the characteristics of the country, the banks of the rivers being overgrown with rushes, poplars and tamarisks, and harbor- ing immense numbers of wild camels, ante- lopes, wildcats, boars and various smaller animals. But traces of recent desiccation are everywhere apperent, large tracts marshes, strewn with the remains of fresh water mollusks—the former inhabitants of @ vast lake. Se ae His View of It. From Jvdge. “Why don’t you work? Why do you go around begging?” “Well, mum, if you think beggin’ isn’t work just try it.” . 2 CONSOLATION FOR CRUMPLEY. Kindly aad Qglicately Administere@, S a Friend. _ Thad be®n exploring some coal lands in the moun ins of the Cumberland under the fre .af Jim Weskins, a sandy- haired, solémn kind of a mountaineer, and om the third day of our explorations we, of rather Weskins, picked up a sad-faced, dejected-lofking man, whom he called Crumpley. Crumpley was with us until sundown, and just a few minutes before he left us| Weskins asked me for the advance of 25 cents on account, which he trans: ferred at ohce to the departing Crumpley. I didn’t say anything, but I must have looked it, far Mre Weskins began to explain as soon as Ris friend was out of hearing. “I don’t pwe him nothin’, colonel,” he said, as if ft werd a reflection on him to be suspected of owing anybody. ‘That is, not egzackly. It's this a-way, colonel. You see, I useter have a wife that wuz, fer shore, the most rantankerest woman that the Lord ever made. She wuz all red- headed excep’ temper and bones, and she never riz. in the mornin’ less’n ‘twuz to make the fur fly till dark. Lord knows how I stood it, but I did, an’ fer five yea and then along come Crumpley. I never tuck no stock in Crumpley, seein’ in them ‘days he wuz a ‘slick kind uv a feller that wuz allus smoothin’ ’round among the wo- men. Atter awhile I noticed that Susan, she wuz my wife, an’ Crumpley wuz gittin’ Powerful thick, an*‘onc't I had a mind to warn him, but [thought it warn’t none uv my mix, so I kep’ hands off, an’ the fust thing the, communerty and me knowed her an’ Crumpley run away together, an’ when the two year wuz up fer her bein’ a wid- der, they got married. That wuz about three year ago, colonel, an’ ever sence then r ve been kinder lookin’ out fer Crumpley an’ givin’ him a boost when I had the chance. I know what he suffers, an’, though he brung it on himself, I can’t fer- git how much he done fer me, an’ I be- lieve I'm only doin’ my Christian duty in softenin’ the hard road the pore cuss has got to travel, even ef it hain’t no more’n lettin’ him have liquor money to drown his sorrers with. ——— STRIVING TO PLEASE. A Showman Who Was Willing to Do More Thin Most Would Do. “I always strive to please,” remarked the dramatic editor as he scratched the words “big thing” out of the advance no- tice he was writing and substituted ‘‘mega- therian aggregation.” “Thanks, I am sure,” said the advance agent, as he read over the ten lines the dramatic critie was giving to him, and care- fully put back into his pocket the half col- umn notice he had first drawn on the d. c. “I presume,” smiled the d. c., “that you always strive to please, too, don’t you?” “Not always,” in a semi-disappointed tone, “but I used to have a friend who did. He really was the most self-denying chap I ever saw, and what he wouldn't do to please an audience wasn’t worth doing.” “Where is he now?” “Dead?” “Yes, it killed him. It was this way: He was in the pyrotechric branch of the dra- matic art, and used to give shows at one of those imitation Coney Islands to be found on nearly every sandbar in nearly every river tributary to the Mississippi. He had been the originator of the fireworks feature at this place, and his phenomenal success had made him so proud that he would sooner ae died than had a failure. One Fourth ‘of July he was going to give the grandest display of his life, and the feature in the biggest letters on the bill was a set piece, a hundred feet high, with an enormous’ baffoon loaded with fireworks to go up from the top as a grand finale. There wereiten times as many people there that night as there had ever been, and my friend, was feeling so good you could sce it in his walk.’ “Everybody was on edge, too, for the grand blazeof glory the management had been advertising for weeks, and. when, promptly at the hour of 10 o'clock, my friend stepped forth like a peacock to set off the great diepiay with his own hand, there was & round of applause, followed by a dead» silence as the audience sat breathless watching for the burst of blaz- ing glory. But somehow it didn’t burst: The professor firéd the train and retreated to a safe place, but the powder wouldn't burn, It fizzledsand went out, instead. Once, twice, thrice, it fizzled, sputtered and went out, and then the crowd began to growl and guy, as crowds always will, and the professor began to get wild. “Several other attempts to set the piece off were no more successfui, and at last, with a smothered scream of crazy rage, he shot up the ladder of the tower to its very top, where he had a platform stored with all sorts of inflammable and explosive things, arranged to go off at the proper time. He stood there a moment silhouetted against the sky, the crowd indulging in gibes and jeers, with row and then a threat as to what he might expect if he would only come down to the ground. This was his time to show what he could do to please his audience, and in a minute, and before anybody had any idea what he would do next, he caught up an armful of the ex- plosives about him, fastened them to his clothes, and hung wreaths and rings over his neck and shoulders, and setting the whole thing afire, he swung out into the air in the balloon, which was already tugzing at its anchor. “As the balloon shot up, it was a terrific sight, and the poor devil's shrieks added to the intensity of the scene, already lurid with red and blue lights, while the air was filled. with all manner of bursting bombs and crashing explosives. Women fainted, men ran helplessly about shouting, and etill the balloon swept upward with its fiery freight and passenger, until, when it had reached a point a thousand feet above the earth, it caught fire and the whole burning mass shot like a blazing ball straight to the ground. “You will be safe in betting those people never saw such an cxhibition as that be- fore, nor‘will ever again in ali probability, and when it was over,” concluded the agent, “‘the audience seemed to realize what the professor had done to please themi, and they chipped in and built him a monument where he fell, having on it, be- sides his name and the proper dates, no other scription except ‘He Strived to Please.’ The dramatic critic was at least half a minute in recovering his speech after the recital of this remarkable tale, and before he could ask any questions the advance agent had folded his tent like a circus and -stolen away to the office of the next dra- matic critic he had to call upon. —_——_——_ Fell on the Wrong End. From the Monroe Advertiser. On Monday afternoon Mr. H. T. Shaw, the efficient cashier of the Bank of Mad- ison, was spinning along on his wheel, when, suddenly turning Hunter & Brooks’ cor- ner, he collided with a small negro girl, knocking her down and throwing himself from his wheel. In the goodness of his heart Mr. Skew picked the child up, took her into a drugi‘store, and called for Dr. Trotter. The doctor was out, and Mr. Shaw sert for Dr. Stone. As the messen- ger started off the warm-hearted cashier looked dowrt the 'street and saw that his victim had escaped and was tripping along as chipper as you please, more anxious to get home tg see a doctor, whose at- tentions were entirely unnecessary, as she had fallen on het head. ig ‘Ne Compliments. From Harper’ Basaz. *. ab s Yj Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. A Timorous Nature. He is a man of forebodings. He has the quality of cautiousness in that exagger- ated degree which prevents men from showing their abilities in achievement be- cause they fear to attempt. “I had about made un my mind to go to Hawa: he was saying to an acquaint- ance. “I had a first-rate opportunity to locate there, but I studied the matter up and—”" “You don’t mean to say that you're not going bie There are too many uncertainties about It. The possibilities for embarrass- ing complications are too numerous.” “But there's no telling what you may do in that field. Perhaps you may be elected to Congress from there.” “That’s what the friend who offered to establish me in business sald. But you see those islands are volcanic in their na- ture.” “Well, that’s nothing against them. There’s no greater object of interest in na- ture than a volcano. I always did think that this country ought to have a few more.” “Still, I don’t like the idea of getting into polities where things are so very uncer- ain.” “You're not worried about the kind of People they may send along to help you represent that part of the country, are you? You'll find just as brainy men there as you ever met, you may take my word for it. And suppose they should send some- body who isn’t exactly up to date. It wouldn't be the first time there has been gas blown out in Washington.” “I was not thinking of anything of that kind. Supposing I should be elected to Congress from Hawail. You know there is nothing more uncertain than a volcano. It would be entirely possible that while I am here some of those volcanoes would be seized with an inspiration to become active, and as an incident to its onera- ttons blow my district all over the Pacific ocean. And then how would I look getting out in the middle of the floor and trying to catch the Speaker's eye and hollering for the rights of my contsituents? No, sir. I can bear obscurity; but I can’t stand the idea of being ridiculous.” * * * Adapting Himself. Washington, cosmopolitan though it is, contains elements which refuse to be- come reconciled to the intricate super- ficialities of official etiquette. It is not for lack of effort that an American citizen (colored), named “John,” fails some- times to understand the obligation of the moment in the way of titles and saluta- tions at the Korean legation, where he is employed. But John does his best. The presence of the new- ly arrived Korean prince has been a source of great ap- prehension, for he appreciates the im- bortance which Asiatic people attach to ceremony. “If he calls me, what mus’ I say to him?” inquired John of a young man of this city, who is attached to the legation. “Don’t say anything. Simply do as he tells you.” A in I understan’ ’im when he talks?" es. He speaks English very well.” “But spos’n de house ketches on fire, or sumpin’ like dat, so’s I’s gotter talk ter ‘im. What's his name?” “You needn’t mind about his name. Sim- ply address him as “Your royal higness.”” In the course of time the prince had occa- sion to employ John and sent for him. The colored man entered the room with a state- ly stride and without looking to the right nor the left walked up to where the prince was seated. Then he took a long deep breath, and bowing very low, inquired, “Whut do yoh royal harness wish?” * *x * Morning Glories. Dah dey ts a-smilin’ gay, Welcomin’ de sun's fust light. Didn’ speck no sech display F’um dem tiny buds las’ night. An’ de sky laughs back at dem Noddin’ f'um each twistin’ stem; Climbin’ foh ter feel de glow— Mo'nin’-glories ’roun’ de do’. But de beauty gwineter fade— Da’'s de way wif loveliness— Long befo’ de evenin’ shade Falls across de distant wes’. You will see ‘em, once so fine, Witherin’ dar upon de vine. An’ yoh misses dem, foh sho’, Mo'nin’-giories ’roun’ de do’. Dat’s de news dey comes ter tell Joy was nebber made ter last. What, terday, we loves so well, Gwineter fade into de past. But de lesson ain’ complete. Dah’s a hint ob hope dat’s sweet; Foh, tomorrow, dar’ll be mo’ Mo‘nin’-glories 'roun’ de do’. * *** A Tarif! Adviser. The portly man was heard to declare un- der his breath that it was an outrage several times in succession. He was going down the stairs on the west side of the Capitol with a quick, nervous stride, which his. general appearance showed was very unusual with him. Just before he reached the Peace monument, a man who had been pursuing him ever since he had left the Capitol building came alongside and hailed him. The portly man stopped in astonish- ment and then exclaimed: “Well, Smithers! Is it you! I must say that if anything in the world could make me glad at the present moment it would be this unexpected meeting. What are you doing in Washington?” “Pleasure trip. What brought you here?” “Business. I came to give these people a few suggestions on how to run the govern- ment. I traveled huhdreds of miles to at- tend to it. But there's no use of allowing your expectations to rise too high. You can teach @ man just so much and then there's no use of wasting any more time with him. They've got @ pretty good start on the tar- Aft, out reed bere ag some mistakes, al- Snepejuppose "you are. Here on behalf of the brewery interests you represent?’ “Of course. You have no idea how our enterprises have developed in the last few y' “You ought to be satisfied with the way they have treated your product.” “Satisfied!” echoed the portly man with unfamiliar epcghibave amare eae w ‘ “Certainly. They didn’t put any tax on beer, as they threatened to do.” br < yes. That was very well as far as it went. What I have been trying to do was to keep them from putting a duty on Fy fe i f E itl z f degree as an insult to human liberty and a detriment to progress!” * * * A Wheelman Draws the Line. There were lines of determination in Mr. Meekton's face as he so spoke to his con- fidential friend, that had never been seen there before. “I believe in letting a woman do just as she pleases,” he was saying, “up to a cer- tain limit. I admire gallantry in others and I endeavor to practice it myself in an unobtrusive way, of course, that won't give Henrietta any excuse for thinking that I am patronizing her. But there are times when a man must set his foot down, to prevent a condition of affairs which will culminate in unendurable tyranny.” And Mr. Meekton wiped his brow like an orator on the Fourth of July. ‘That time,” he proceeded, “has arrived in my household.” “I wouldn't get excited, old fellow,” said his friend, soothingly. “Don’t do anything rash. Let things take their course and they will probably all come out right.” “I've lived almost forty years without doing anything rash,” replied Mr. Meekton, with quiet resolution, “and my inner con- sciousness warns me that some wild act of folly is long overdue. It is through action born of desperate resolve that the greatest things are sometimes accomplished. It is time for me to arise and assert myself.” “What has happened?” “Before I left home this morning I ob- served that Henrietta was busy over some new patterns.” “Well, you can’t be so small as to find fault about dress that she is going to make hersel: : “If it's a dress, I have nothing to say except words of kindliness and encourage- ment. But a label which I happened to notice convinced me that it is not a dress. It is—or rather they are—a new bicycle cos- tume.” “Bloomers?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, the popular opinion with reference to that stye of attire has moderated so much that perhaps it won't seem so bad after the neighbors once get used to it.” “Don’t misunderstand me. I have no wish to intrude my ideas as to picturesque- ness or propriety on Henrietta’s plans. And I am perfectly willing that she should ride a bicycle. I bought her a high-grade lady’s wheel only a few months ago. But she hasn’t seemed satisfied. You ride a bicycle yourself, don’t you?” “Yes.” “Then you ought to be able to under- stand my feelings. It has been the ambi- tion of my life to keep my bicycle in as good condition as it was when I bought it. I have bestowed hours of valuable time on its care and spent good money getting @ man to put it together after I had taken it apart to clean it. Henrietta is welcome to my collars and cuffs and shirt studs and sleeve buttons, but I will go to the extent of speaking harshly to a lady before I will let anybody except myself ride that ma- chine!” * * * The Free Trader's Consolation. Come! Let us all be merry! There is com- fort for us yet. Think not of what we're missing, but give thanks for what we get. It seemed to us a wicked and unpardonable fault, To levy this taxation upon sugar and on salt. And the winds on the Potomac carried echoes of our wails, When they smashed the bargain-counter rates for lumber and for nails. But there still is balm in Gilead. Wipe your glistening eyes and see, That toluol and xyloi are admitted, duty free! Oh, toluol and xylol, like sweet music from afar, You bring us gentle solace, though we don’t know what you are. When we pay more for our clothing, "twill be glorious to recall The way that we can revel in xylol and toluol. Though they raise the price of dishes and enhance the gost of hides, And slate and stained-glass windows, and a lot of things besides, We'll lift a gladsome chorus that will sound from sea to sea, Since toluol and xylol are admitted duty free. * * * A Pathetic Sarcasm. The trait of persistence which may one day make a little Washington lad a great man is at this immediate stage of his career a source of embarrassment to his parents. Their fond- ness for an only child leads them to e far more care of his safety than he finds comfortable; but he is too well bred to be flagrantly disobedi- ent. Apprehensions as to his life and mb in connection with the Fourth of July led his father to inform him, well in advance, that the method of his cele- bration wou!d be very carefully superinten- ded. “I don’t want to be put to the pain of refusing you what you ask for,” ne said, “so I want to tell you long beforehand that I will not permit you to have any of these cannon crackers on the Fourth.” “But I don’t care for the little ones,” the youth protested. “I'd almost as scon not ave any at ail.’” neon AS take your choice about that.” “Can't I have just one or two to put in- side a barrel and burst it?” } “Certainly not.” ‘Well, then, can I have a toy cannon?” “No. They’re woree than giant crackers.” “Will you get me a revolver and let me shoot some blank cartridges?” “By no means. I will let you have some pinwheels and colored lights, and in the evening I will set off some rockets and Roman candles where you can see them. But you-may as well understand, once for all, that there is to ncheremd which in any way suggests an ex) n.”” The boy looked disconsolate, and after a. silence of half a minute said in a tone of melancholy resignation: ‘Father. “What is it?” “Would there bs. any eye —_ fe my taking my new foot pump com- mons and blowing wD. my le tire?” ——[—>>S=E=>= A Helpless Farmer. William Stimpson Stricken With Pa« Faly; of His Lower Limbs—Caused by Overwork. From the New Era, Greensburg, Ind. Many of our readers may remember an item fn this paper a year ago last fall which stated that Mr. William Stimpson, a well-to-do farmer, living rear Ragby, Ind. had been stricken with paralysis of the lower limbs, and his rece was doubtful, The case, which was an unusually severe aud complicated one, bas at last been entirely cured, to the utmest surprise and Joy of Mr. Stimpoon and his family. Mr. Stimpson was pleased to relate to a mporter the particulars regarding his case, and his sub- sequent recovery. “A year rgo lart fall,” began Mr. Stimpeon, “I did a large amount of work. My hired help left me in the middie of corn cutting end I finished the fall work myself, doing an unusual large amount of work, I put up several hundred shocks of fodder, and also husked all my co-m. To ac- complish this I had to work early aud late. “About the firet of December, my fall work about done, I suffered a strike of Paralysis, which the physician said was brouglit on by excessive Inbor. My left limb was entirely helpless and my right mb was fast becoming so, My physician bocnme uneasy, and after attending upon me for a weck or #0, he brought me a box of Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People, saying that he believed they would do me more good than anything which he knew of, as he iad used them with great success in a case similar to mine Where all other remedies had failed. The case in ‘question was that of L. Phillips of I “About the time I began taking the second box of these pflls a decided change was noticed, a when I had taken two more boxes that I was actually gettlag well. ¥, ably fuagine what a relief and feelin: this was to me, after being contin for nearly two months. Well the pills secording to dirs: sumed nine boxes of t i today, with not a sign turning aMiction, end can affirm that Dr. ° Pink Pilis for Pale I did me @ ful good and probably saved ime from che sy all doubt as to the trut state Mr. Stimpson made out the wing sworn RUGBY, Ind “This is to certify that Td the fore nt COUNTY, STATE OF IN i Sworn to and subscribed before me, a J the Peace, in and for <xid county in sald 35 ABNER NORMAN, Just the e t New | Era fe Charles Williams, been cured of rh Martsville, who was troubled with neural also cured by Dr. Williams’ Pink I it that this remedy Is in great d=mand in that borhood. Dr. Williams’ Pink Pils for tain, in a condensed form, all the c to give new peculiar to ane all males, such Williams’ Medicine’ Coay It_was not until the othuh da cidentally discovuhed othuhwise the ccuvubsation cf a friend, who is a m: intellestual ard thoughtful dems in:fohmation about Philadelphia stru as a maiter of so much fohce a pohtance that he stopped right in middle of some ve'y learned remahks on the coinage question to giv “Of course, It’s merely he prejudiced source the town yourself?” “Nevuh, sui. But I propose to repair the cmission ve'y soon, suh. This friend of mine has infohmed me of a fact con- cernin’ Philadelphia’s culture and indastcy which foh some most mysterious r had escaped my previous know! am not an epicure in the common accey ticn of the term: but I , good things of this tife were put bh ran to enjoy an’ that it is man’s get _et ‘em, suh, if he can.” “What did your friend tell you?” “He told me, suh, that Philadelphi the finest mint in the United State: ——<—_ Boring Through the Nile Del The peculisr interest which associates it- self with the past history of the Nile val- ley, and the possible changes that may have marked a transformation in the physical characteristics of northeastern Africa, have induced geologists to make a critical investigation of the region, with the view of ascertaining in how far the existing conditions are merely a modern development of the continent, or represent the events of a long past period of time. All the more recent explorations of the region of the Sahara indicate that the desert conditions which exist today have been steadily and progressively accentuated it to me.” ‘say from a You've never been to throughout the historic period of man's habitation there; that many parts, now desert and no more, were at no very ancient period ferti bearing a_ good growth of vegetation of some kind. The remains of trees found buried along many of the wadis, or dried water courses, are evidence of this, as likewise the abundance of human implements scattered about in centers is proof of man’s lodgment in the wilderness. Under the guidance of a com- mittee of the Royal Society of London, a number of borings have been sent through the deposits of the Nile delta, and _con- cerning the latest of these, sunk at Zaga- zig, a report has just been published by Prof. J. W. Judd, F. R. 8. The boring penetrates the alluvial deposits to a depth of 345 feet. For the first 115 feet the strata Passed through consisted of alternations of desert sand and Nile mud. Beyond 115 feet a noteworthy change was found to occur, the beds first penetrated and extending down to 151 feet being a mass of coarse sand and shingle. With slight interrup- tions the shingle beds continued to the deepest point of the boring, the individual fragments, nearly all perfectly rounded, be- ing of all sizes up to that of a hen's egg. This section conforms very closely with one that had been previously obtained at Rosetta. The conclusion reached so far from the evidence, and one that is firmly held by Prof. Judd, is that the subdel formations represent a series of deposits which were formed under totally different conditions from those which prevail in northeastern Africa at the present time. The land must have stood at an elevation at least from 100 to 300 feet higher than at present, and the lower Nile, instead of forming an alluvial fiat, must have deposited coarse sands and gravels. Upon the very uneven surface of the subdelta deposit the alluvial muds and sands of the delta were laid down as the surface gfadually subsided below the level of the Mediterranean. The borings have not yet reached bottom rock, ner were any fossil organisms found that could give @ clue as to the age of the deeper deposits, or the length of time that was occupied in the making of the formation. —>_—_ In Hi of the Day. From the Buffalo Express. “Yessuh,” said the proud Vine street fa- ther, “it weighs ten and a half poun’s, an’ it’s as fine, healthy a boy as evah yah see, an’ it was bo’n cn the very day Gen'l Grant was buried over again, an’ Ah’m goin’ to give ‘im @ name that'll be appo- perat “You'll call him Ulysses S. Crant John- son, I suppose,” said the friend who was hearing the news. “No, sah; nothin’ so common as that for my boy. Ah’m goin’ to name "im Mau- soleum, sah.”