Evening Star Newspaper, October 23, 1897, Page 23

THE EVENIN |FEAROF THE EPIDEMIC / Results in the Establishment of Shot- _ ee WIDESPREAD DISASTER 10 BUSINESS a. Picturesque Description of a Fever- Stricken Town. ARMED CORDON DRAWING AD H. S. Canfield in Chiesgo Times-Herald. w ether the fever prevailing in New Or- Jeans is genuine “yellow jack” or not, peo- ple die from it. That fact appears to be settled. Arguing over the nature of a dis- ease while the patient renders up his spirit is not uncommon in the medical profession. It has happened before and wili happen again. It is, of course, some satisfaction to the relatives to have the ailment prop- deceased is unable to to his appreciation. erly named, but th come back and The New Orleans fever appears to have pretty nearly ail of the symptoms of yel- low fe’ in a mild form. There is the high te rature, the quick decay, the low exu¢ from the skin, the unmts- takable indescribable smell of the sickness. and all of the rest of it. An object lesson fs always the most potent kind of less ng confronted with the names of and. people who have gone into the great be- yond, herners wil keep away from New ‘ans until after frost. That is the eensibis thing to do. Thi proper place, perhaps, to remark that it is some distance from New Orleans to Nashvill i Gov- ernor Tan capital of Ten but haunting m Th= worst thing abot demic, strange to sa sults in wholesale quarantine, whi ame for wholesale paraly- s. Thousands of people are t of work and millions of dollars Not infrequently wealthy men 2 separated for > and are default. stales upon the shelves. Per- + goods rot in transit. Freight cars . but motionless, upon the side amers swing idly at their moor- sis of thrown go to waste. are yp ly Passenger Trains. enly sign of traffic is furnished by The the passenger trains which bear the mails. ‘The companies are under contract with the government and | tters and newspapers must through. The cars behind the or‘ing engines, however, are empty. No s look from the windows. No curious ntrymen gather at the little stations. 1 and ghostlike, the train sweeps the still lard. as seen a little town of Louisi- ppi under the blight of the ana epidemic never forgets it. Not a man, wo- man or child is on the streets. The yellow sun glares down upon the sandy thorough- fare. but the only shadow there is the trembling shadow of the trees that line the | sitewalks. T! stores are open, as a mat- ter of form, but no one enters or denarts. A lonesome dog wanders along, but, meet- ing with no friendly pat or threatening stone, slinks away. Occasionaly—not of- mall, n—a bugey with hardy hor: be- its shafts whirls down the street. It of the town’s physicians hur- |} of a patient. The sta- who meets the train is woebe- his face is the knowledge of a sorrow and a great dread. He may tells himself. That thought he wakes and closes his ts hot, tossing s So so many deaths, he calls pestal clerk who tosses him the ind the train speeds on. w _the quiet of the heavy air is the t = of a church bell, with slow strokes the age of the r vid man. Night and morn- of the requiem mass rises woolen church. Black-robed i sisters of charity flit from nouse T at least, may be depended . feath is they are always. the physicians and the under- nie ases, The red earth of many lots the Little green grave- the hill With stern, patient time rs aw until the frost falls, browning the grass and ning the berries upon the haw trees. The land awakes then and counts its dead. Sentinels in the Road. The most picturesque and most damaging feature of the epidemic is the “shotgun quaran so-called because the shotgun is its enforcement. Most frequently the n quarantine” is not a matter of law is the result of individual dread. » enforce it are farmers and dwell- ns too small to be incorporated. mes that the yellow death has in- New Orlean Next day's papers the intelligence. Somewhere be- It may be cholera morbus, but to all purposes it is yellow fever. en the patrol is out. On every country road the sentinel with his ket walks up and down. He halts all confirm low them a man sickens and dies. Vehicles and foot passengers who come from the south. They are turned back. No explanations er denials will serve. The northward journey ends right there. Sometimes the wayfarer refuses to obey orders. Then the earthly journey ends. slayer is justified by the community. all he cares for. arantine” is div: of twel jed into he hours each. The guarded night and day. Camp is ned in som Id near by, and al- ar the south end of the little town, wn be near. The sentinel seeks the a tree by the roadside if the day but in the moonlight of the nighis Is squarely in the middle of the ._ Nothing can escape him. He is paid by his town or his neighbors at the rate of ¥: a day. There are always many unem- ed young men in the south glad of the ortunity to earn so much with so little . They are hot-headed young men, filled with an idea of their importance as » guards.” That makes them the ctive. ‘Terrible Condition. Men toiling northward on foot or in veh!- cies and stricken with the fever have been turned back, and many times have died in road ditches far from succor. The s rotted where they lay, for no man i touch them. Sometimes these dead ons had been men of wealth and in- nce in the state's interior, endeavoring to make their way home again. That made no diffe The selfishness of the “shot- gun quarantin the most supremely ter- ribl fishness in the world. The present epidemic is mild, but {ts com- mercial cost is as heavy as in the terror times of the past. Northern Louisiana is quarantined against scuthern Louisiana and Mississ Northern Mississippi is quar- antined against scuthern Mississippi and Louisiana. No business is transacted. Few boats are running. No man goes from the upper parts of these states to their lower cities, no matter how imperative his needs. He could not get back before late in the autumn. Science cannot reason men out of this blind fear. It is useless to tell them that besides spinal meningitis or the dread- ful “swamp fever” of the south, yellow jack is an infant. They draw an armed cordon that ts murderous from end to end. heir sovereign preventive fs buckshot. The hotxun quarantine” will come and go so long as the West Indian scourge comes and goes. ——_————_~+e-—_____ FOLLOWERS GF ISLAM REJOICE. Consider That the Progress of the West Has Been Checked. From the London Spectator. In that contest of ages between Europe and Asia, Europe has always advanced til! 1897, when Asta, alded by treachery within the civilized continent, has flung Europe back. It ts not Greece, with its rashness and its unreadiness and Its belief in words, which has been defeated, but Europe,which is anything but rash, which can mobilize great armies at a fortnight’s notice, and which so despises words that when great sovereigns wax eloquent it distrusts their | ana it will not taint food. judgment. Collected Europe has intervened in Turkish affairs, and has proved itself too feeble to punish the sultan for the most gigantic massacre of modern times, to tear away even a single island from the Turk, to prevent him from plundering Greece of two years’ revenue, or to compel him to give up a province which yesterday was Christian and today is held by Mussulman soldiery as security for a debt. The sultan, who represents barbarism, that is, the sys- tem of governing by the extermination of all who resist, with all Europe affecting to give him orders, has strengthened his army, has asserted his full right to mas- sacre all he pleases within his own do- minions, has found a great ally who cares nothing for the general advantage of Eu- rope, and has revived the confidence of all Mussulmans throughout the world. In India, in Egypt, in Algeria, in Morocco the followers of Islam exult in the thought that the progress of the west has at last been checked, that the Mussulman is again blessed with victory, that there is no more necessity for conciliation, still less for sub- missions to the infidel. This is surely, if words have any meaning, humiliation for Europe; and as England is in the struggle of the two continents the great protagonist, special humiliation for her. The hu- ation is the deeper because there can no doubt that Greece was provoked to sh but heroic effort to free Crete by ifiable belief that Europe would ad- here to her secular policy, that Asia would never be permitted to triumph, and that al- though she herfelf might suffer at first, she would in the end have shorn away one more province from the common enemy ilization. It is in this great result, and not in any detail of negotiations, that there has been failure, gross failure, and though the blame and the shame must be distributed over all Europe, the British gov- ernment cannot be exempted from its share. It was the advance guard of Hurope against Asia; it fell back, voluntarily or otherwise, on its supports; and it then ar- ranged with those supports to buy off the enemy. To call that victory is absurd. The defeat may have been unavoidable, Lut it is humiliating defeat. ———_ + e+ —___ PRODUCTION OF ALUMINUM. Increasing Applicability of the Metal to Various Uses. From the Review of Reviews. In reply to the query of practical nien as to the uses of this new metal, the manufac- turers say that it is adapted to a thousand purposes for which strength and durability, combined with extreme lightness, are es- sential requirements. It serves, for ex- ample, as a sheathing of vessels. It will be remembered that on the American rac- ing yacht Defender aluminum plates, 12 feet long, 5-16 inch thick, and from 22 to 30 inches in width, were used above the water line; these plates had a very slight alloy of copper. The serviceability of alu- minum in salt water has not been fully tested. Owing to the action of alkalis cn the pure metal, an alloy is required. Alu- minum is also well fitted to serve as roof- ing material. Bulk for bulk, it is already as cheap as copper and cheaper than nicket or tin. It lends itself readily to the vari- ous processes of stamping or spinning. ‘The greater part of last year's output was sold in et form. Aluminum has entered to a considerable extent into the manufacture of bicycles, having been successfully used for almost every part of the bicycle in which metai is employed at ail. One com- pany casts the entire frame of the machine of an aluminum alloy, and it is said that the strength of the frame thus made is only surpassed by that of the highest grade of nickel-steel frames. The various parts and fittings of bicycles are made from alu- minum by several manufacturers, and many tons of the metal have been con- sumed in bicycle factories. Probably the most important use to which aluminum will be put, at least in the immediate future, will be for cuiinary and household utensils. Besides being very light, and hence far less cumbersome than any other metal of equal strength and du- rability now used in cookery, aluminum is practically incorrodible; Prof. Jamieson as- serts that no food now known to man can affect this metal in the slightest degree. It is wholly free from every form of poisoa, These are quali- ties that are possessed by neither tron, cop- per, tin, nor lead. Furthermore, it is a bet- ter conductor of heat than either of the other metals. The innocuous nature of the metal is an earnest of its future usefulness in surgery. It is already substituted for silver as the material of which tubes are made to be in- serted in the windpipes of patients on whom the operaticn of tracheotomy has been performed. For dental plates, also, aluminum is particularly well adapted. Ten years ago, as we have seen, no pure aluminum was produced in the United States, and In Europe it was produced only at a cost which virtually prohibited its us® in the arts. Today it is the rival of copper and steel in scores of manufactures, and in a single day more of it 1s rolied into sheets than went to make up the whole world’s stock a few years since. A round million of dollars will not express the value of the American product of 1897, notwithstanding heapness as measured by former stand- No industry has undergone a greater transformation than this within the decade. And yet we are told that this is oaly a be- ginning. — DECORATED FOR BRAVERY. Field Marshal Lord Roberts’ Charger and His Noble Record. From the London Sketch. Shortly after the jubilee, the writer asked a colonial what he thought of the gorgeous procession. His reply was brief and to the point. “The procession? I think it may be summed up in a nutshell—the Queen and Lord Roberts.” In that there was doubt- less some exaggeration, but there Is no question that, after her majesty, Lord Roberts, mounted upon his beautifully diminutive Arab Volonel, made the greatest appeal to the popular fancy. Both man and his horse were familiar to military eyes, but the general public do not often get a chance of seeing “Bobs,” and the sight of the sturdy, in spite of his years, sull elastic, lithe figure, seated upon a charger which seemed positively made for him, naturally aroused all their lateut hero worship to fever pitch. The late Val- entine Baker used to be known as “the man on the white horse;” probably it will be as “the man on the little gray Arab” that Lord Roberts will be enshrined in the hearts of many of our country and coloniel cousins—aye, and of Londoners 23 well. Volonel, like his master, is a veteran. Lord Roberts bought him in March, 187 from Abdul Rahman, an Arab horse deal- er in Bombay. Volonel is of pure Nejdi breed, and certainly he ts a striking exam- ple of the longevity and powers of enduring the ups and downs of life ascribed to the pure Arab. He went through the Afghan campaign with his master. Out of that ign Lord Roberts came with undy- ing fame, but Volonel was also rewarded for his distinguished service, recelying the medal -for the campaign and the Kanda- har S Both decorations were, I believe, iy’ struck by order of her majest Certainly the stout-hearted little anima had earned these badges of honor, for who knows, if he had faltered or gone wrong at some critical moment, that the whole course of the campaign might not have been altered? Volonel most assuredly seems to be made .of wondrous stuff even fér an Arab, for, After having traveled with Lord Roberts some ‘ifty thousand miles, and endured all the vicissitudes inci- dental to warfare in a savage country, this is what his lordship says of him: “He has never been sick or sorry; * * * he ig now about twenty-five years of age, and as fit as eve Both rider and horse looked little the worse for wear at the great jubilee review at Aldershot. Both of them looked as “fit as ever.” coo Portrait of the German Emperor. From the London Daily Mail, And between the walls of acclamation came riding the kaiser. A man of middle size, sitting constrainedly and bolt upright; a dead-yellow skin, hard-penciled brows, a straight, masterful nose, Hps jammed close together under a dark mustache pointing straight upward to the whites of his eyes. A face at once repulsive and pathetic, so harsh and stony was it, so grimly solemn. A face in which no in- dividual feature was very dark, but which altogether was black as thunder. He rals- ed his gloved hand in a stiff, mechanical salute and turned his head impassively from left to right; but there was no court- esy in the salute, no light in his eye, no smile on the tight mouth for his loyal sub- jects. He looked like a man without joy, t hago love, without pity, without hope. le looked like a man -who hi never laughed, Iike a man who could never A man might wear such a face who felt himself turning slowly into ice. THE “BROCKLEY JACK” A Famous Historic Landmark of London to Disappear. pases See ‘The Headquarters of the Gang of Blackheath Highwaymen in the Eighteenth Century. Frem Black and White. Another old London landmark is about to be swept away. This is the famous Brockley Jack public house, which has been cne of the best-known places on the Brockley road any time during this last five hundred years. It is believed to have been erected about the reign of the third Edward, and then and for many years afterward it was the only house in the neighborhood. At first it was a private residence, but some time in the sixteenth century it became a house of public en- tertainment, and has continued so up to the Presert time. It is now the oldest licensed house in the county of Kent, and there are only one or two of greater antiquity in London itself. It was at the commence- ment of the last century, however, that the house achieved its greatest notoriety. At that time Blackheath was infested by a desperate gang of highwaymen, who found a convenient headquarters at this lonely roadside inn. They were a com- mercially minded, businesslike gang, to whom chivalry and romance were utter strangers. At that period the adjacent vil- lage of Ladywell was noted for its med- icinal springs, and many visitors journeyed thither to drink the healing waters. These were, of course, principally wealthy peo- ple, and they were in great request as vic- tims for the bold knights of the road who sallied forth from their well-known head- quarters under the leadership of a notori- ous outlaw named Brockley Jack, whose name has since been adopted as the sign of the house. This desperate gang disap- peared before advancing civilization, and a widely different custom has sprung up at the old inn. It became the objective of Southeast London's Monday morning walk, and on high holidays it was always ‘he scene of merrymaking. An extremely old print represents a Christmas revel outside this house with rustics gamboling under the old tree, beneath which the highway- men used to quaff their wine and play pitch-and-toss with the gold pieces among their booty. It is even said that they used to toss golden coins into the tree, and that when the treé decayed half a tankard full of gold coins were collected by a former landlord from the interior of the trunk. In his latter days the Brockley Jack has lived down its evil reputation and entered on a period of honest prosperity. A few months ago the property was sold to a firm of brewers with an important reserva- tion, and they are responsible for the re- moval of the old place. The reservation was the sign board, which the owners of the house declined to part with at any price. This sign board, which ts fastened on the old tree in front of the house, is made out of the blade-bone of a horse be- lieved to have been ridden by one of the old highwaymen, and this gruesome relic will soon be all that is left of the old Brock- ley Jack. The house has been shored up and added to, the original thatched roof removed and the whole of the buildings roofed with red tiles; but even this new covering belongs to an out-of-date age. In- side the house, however, evidences of an- tiquity abound The wooden walls, covered on the outside with modern matchwood, are plastered with a composition ot clay and hay, and the woodwork ts so hard that a nail can scarcely be driven into it. Curi- ous dark and narrow passages run between the rooms, and until a few years ago, when a modern staircase was introduced, the up- per part of the house was divided into two parts, connected by a drawbridge, which could be raised, thus completely isolating the two parts. The height of the rooms clearly indicates that the house was built for a smailer race of people than now ex- ists. Most of the ceilings are less than six feet from the ground, and in many of the rooms an ordinary-sized man is unable to stand upright. It is at present a curious mixture of ancient and modern. Bicycles, with the latest improvements, are to be seen leaning against the mediaeval timbers of some of the sheds, and the smoke from the railway engine passes over the decay- ing trees. ———ee The Villain and the Lady. B&rry Pain in Black and White. Repldly closing and locking the door, the Villain turned to the Fair Lady. “At last!” he exclaimed. She looked around in dismay. The room was at the top of the house, and it was useless for her to scream for assistance— no one would have heard her. “I have been long waiting for this,” he sald. He chuckled sardonically; his hand grasped his deadly weapon. “This 1s cowardly. You have entrapped me. You told me that from this room was to be obtained the finest view in all Eng- land.” “The finest view in all England,” he re- plied, with a profound bow, “is actually in the room at this moment.” “If you think that I have beauty,” she faltered, “why destroy that beauty? I am too young to die.” He laughed again, as though she had spoken in jest. “I long,” he said, “to gloat over the inanimate features that “Coward! Coward!” she cried, and once more she looked for some means of escape. Ah! There was another door, immediately behind her. She opened it, and hesitated, for within all was absolutely dark. he said, “by all means. It 1s but a small room, with no window to it, and no door but this. You cannot escape— you are in my power. Enter if you will, but be careful lest in the darkness you knock against anything and hurt yourself.” “Would you care?” she asked, bitterly. “I could never forgive myself—never.” “How dare you say it—you—you, with your hand already on the trigger?” “It is stronger than I. I cannot help my- self—I must do it. Prepare.” With a long sigh she sank on a low couch and buried her face in her hands. “Do not do that,” said the Villain, almost tenderly. She made no reply. There was silence in the room for a moment, and then he spoke again: “I cannot do it unless you take your hands from your face.” “Shen I will keep them there forever." “In that case,” he replied, coldly, “I will wait.” He took a cigarette from his case and proceeded in a leisurely way to light it. To do this he had put down his weapon. Watching him narrowly between her fingers, she saw her chance and made a sudden rush. But it was of no avail—he had snatched up the weapon again before she could secure it. Once more she flung herself on the couch and covered her face. “You know,” she said, ‘‘that I detest the smell cf tobacco.” “A thousand pardons,” he replied, as he flung the cigarette through the open win- dow. “I had been misinformed, ,and cer- tainly you carry a silver match box.” “That is only for my bicycle lamp.” “They always say that,” he said, medi- tatively. “However, I can wait just as patiently without smoking. I am not a slave to the habit.’’ ‘There was ace more a moment's silence. She changed her position restlessly. Sud- denly she sprang up and stood erect, let- ting her hands fall by her side. “Go on,” she said. “If it must be done, let it be done quickly. Get it over. Do your worst.” She looked superb as she stood there—a graceful figure in the sunlight. In her eyes there was an infinite kKindliness, as though she bore no malice against her persecutor. Now, just at the end, she smiled. He saw it all unmoved, without waver- ing for one moment from his fell purpose. “That's magnificent,” he cried, as, raising his camerz, he pulled the trigger and pho- tographed her abominably. ———_+e. Webster's Nimble Wit. From the Green Bag. Daniel Webster, when in full practice, was employed to defend the will of Roger Perkins of Hopkinton. A physician made affidavit that the testator was struck with death when he signed the will. Webster subjected his testimony to a most thorough examination, showing, by quoting medical authorities, that doctors disagree as to the precise moment when a dying man is struck with death—some affirming that it is at the commencement of the disease, others at its — and others still affirm that we begin to die as soon as we are born. “I should like to know,” said the ing counsel, “what doctor maintains that theory? “Doctor reat said Mr. Webster, pod dignity. “‘The moment we begin to five we all begin to die.” RANDOMIVERSE. |THE PONIES OF ICELAND|'=s,t,. =: sma mreet=l| ACQQING CONOBe The Great Mystery. Could we but know ‘The land that ends uncertain travel, Where Hes those lis and meadows low. Ab! if beyond 1 Jumoat ca ‘Anght of the we surely’ know, Who would agt go? Might we buf! bear” The hovering angele h. fmagined, chorus, Or catch, betimes, With wakefal eres, and clear, One radiant vista of the ret before us— With one rapt meme iven to see and hear, ‘Ah! who Teer? Were we quite sure To find the peerless friend who left us lonely, Or they Uy some, celsstiat errecie, an ener ‘To gaze iu eyes that here Were lovelit only ‘This weary mortal ari were we quite sure, Who would emda EDMU Cianesce STEDMAN. “Don't.” T might have just the mostest fun teltnone "t for a word, I think the very worstest one *Atever I have heard. I wish ’at it ‘u'd go away, But I'm afraid tt won I s'poce ‘at it'll always stay-- That awful word of “don't. It's you make a Dit of nolse,"* And ‘‘don’t go out-of-do And “don’t you sptead your stock of toys, ‘About. the parlor Nloor;”” sat you dare get your clothing mussed; do this and that. It seems to me I've never round A thing I'd Ike to do But that there's some one else around "At's gat a ‘don't’ or two, And Sunday—at's the day ‘at ‘“‘don’t”” Ts worst of all the seven Of, goodness! bat T hove there won't ‘any don'ts eaven! —— IN WATERMAN. —NIS a ee The Eternal Justice, ‘Thank God that God shall judge my soul, not man! I marvel when they say, “Think of that awful Day No pitying fellcw-sinner’s eyes shall scan With tolerance thy soul, But His who knows the’ whole, The God whom all men.own Is wholly just.”” Hold thou that lust word dear, And live untouched by fear. He knows with what strange thes He mixes thle dust. The heritage of race, The circumstance and place Which make us what we are—were from His hand, That left us, faint of voice, Small margin for chol He gave, I took; shall I not tcnrlees stand? ‘Hereditary beat ‘That hedges in intent He knows, be sure, the God who shaped thy brain; He loves the sonls He made; vn hand laid groping for ty Are what Eternal Justice here Feur not; He made th Cling to ‘that All's well with thee if veet_ word— zs Just hands. = VE ALDRICH. Forever 1 Day. ‘Thomas B. Aldrich in the Atlontle. I little know or care If the blackbird on the bough Is_ alli all the air With his soft crescendo now; Tor she ts gone awa; And when she went she took The springtime in her look, " peschlow ow ih The laughter from ‘The blue from out t! And what she calls Is forever and a d: — “The Wind That Blows.” Whichever way the wind doth blow, me heart is glid to have it so. ‘Then blow it east“or blow it west, ‘The wind that blows, that wind is best. My little craft safls ngt alone: A’ thousand fleets front ‘every zone Are out upon a thousand seas, And what for mi voring breeze Might clash anothet the shock Of doom, upon some hidden rock. And so T do not dare to pray For winds to waft me on my way, But leave it to a higher will To or speed fue, trusting still ‘That all is well, gud syre that Ie Who laurched my bark: will sail with me ‘Prrough syorm ang cali, and will not fall, Whatever breezes may prevail, ‘To land ine, every, peril past, Within His sheltering heaven’ at last. Then, whatsoever wind ;doth blew, My heart is gi: ty haye it so. And blow it cast ar blow it west, ‘The wind that blows, that wind is best. Het New Neighbors Moving In, From the Boston Globe. New nelghbors moving h, and all the women ia a titer, As, peeping out between the slats of ev'ry close- drawn’ shutter, Their views upon the van’s contents beneath thelr breath they utter! They criticise th and. presses; ‘They comment on the bed springs and the stuffing of mittresses, And, as to the whole outft’s worth, exchange the Wildest guesses. carpets, couches, tables, chairs From what they see they calculate the income and condition Of those who're coming in—thelr antecedents, and position, And Whether "twill be safe to give them social recoguition. ‘They greet a baby carrlage with a righteous Indig- nation, ‘To which @ sled or doll house 1s a grievous aggra- vation, Their street—they thirk—now holds near all the children in “creation. It vexes them to see the signs of poverty or iches— If they themselves are neither rich nor poor—the: don't! kuow which i f ‘The worse, new neighbors’ bu:bards in silk stock- irgs or patched bieeches. ‘Their tongues wag on and hack and rend, as pitiless as sabers, ‘Though here and there some simple soul will share the strangers’ Inbors— Some simple soul, who us herself, loves e’en un- known new helghbors. The Unattainable. From the Oblcago Times-Herald. She had studied all the ologies Which are taught in modern colleges: She had mastered all the science she knew. She had conquered ancient histo To her Sanskrit was no mystery; Jn all great affairs of life she knew just what to But whien she tried her hand at euchre All her partrers qnite forsook her; nor {hough in erudition this wise maiden set the all languages sun, inspite of what was taught her, She was Mother Eve's own daughter, And so she never missed a chance’ to trump her partner's ac ————_+e-___ Cannot Rob Us of the Pas Thomas Freeman Porter in Boston Globe. Though cruel hands may strive to blight ‘The fruit we hoped the years would bring, ‘They never can destroy Gutrignt ‘The sweets that round the blossoms cling. Af lips shall strive by unkind words ‘To inake our future incomplete, They have not power to kill the’ birds ‘That in our hearts have sung #o sweet. ‘Though unkind feet may turn aside With our path sharp thorns to lay, ‘They lack the power from us to hide ‘The tlowers we gathered by the way. If faces shadowed o'er with hate ‘To our course with fear have planned, They cannot close the happy gate ‘Through which we ‘avg passed hand in hand. ‘Though strength of foes may hope to build High walls to part;our future w: They cannot fenco the bisa that filled Our souls through: fan: Yesterdays, If cruel hands pat tq, blight he fruit we hoj the years, would bring, ey never can destroy pul ‘The sweets that ryund {ihe So, though, they ma ‘And seek our hig! One thing they havg ‘They cannot rob up of The Heart's Desire, From the Pall Mall Gazette. When God shall crows at inst the victor’s And lead him home ‘ith-wong and minstrels, How were thine utmost hope accomplished, Oh, warrior, that hast ht so valiant “No'more for me thé/harntws and the sw } fight no more the battlestot the Lord; iim mother’s lps, west, sweet against mine own.”? When God shall brim the vessel that was vold, wind 12 Hls likeness wake thee satisied, anchorage of raptare uw Wilt ‘thou desire, oht » hungry-eyed? Se ae oe day : Slept on mine arm and in my lay— , ‘The clinging touch ‘That was so tiny and that meant s0 much."t Whee ith His eodnces fila the Teast soul, wi ‘What wilt thou ask, world-weary that thos art, What wilt choose, who mayst attain ‘the 53 ““& twilight paradise, a field of rest, Green grams, green leaves, lowers against face and eptineeane cling. yj, duir ray pursue it _hgpes to blast, moti bower to do, © past. ING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1897-44 PAGES. THE PONIES OF ICELAND They Are Marvels of Strength and Endur- ance. They Have a Peculiar Pacin: Which Under Great Weight Gait, Conquers Space. From the London Globe. . If the camel is the ship of the desert, the Iceland pony is the cab, train, omnibus and tramear of the wonderful country to which he belongs. To begin with, he is a mis- nomer. He is not a pony, in the ordinary sense of the word; he is a horse; in bone and sinew, in strength and endurance, in manners and deportment—a horse in every- thing, in fact, except inches; and a sober, steady, hard-working horse, too. He is very ‘“‘multum in parvo,” a “concentrated essence" of horseflesh. He can swim like a fish, climb like a goat and jump like a deer. He sticks at nothing, and takes every variety of travel—bog, lava bed, sand, bowlders and grass mounds—with undisturbed equanimity. one or two rivers, with strong currents flowing girth-deep, it is all in the day’s work. Only give him time and periodical halts for refreshment, and he will do his fifty miles per day, and thrive upon it. Iceland ponies are bred in hundreds in the large grass plains in the southern dis- tricts of the island. Little or no care is taken in selection, so the breed remains un- altered and unimproved, the average pony standing from eleven and a half to twelve and a half hands, though here and there one will reach to nearly thirteen hands. Every variety of color is seen, but skew- balds of many shades are the commonest. The chestnuts, as a rule, are the finest, and the browns the hardiest. Beautiful cream colors, with light points, are not in- fiequent; black is very rare, and roan also. Their paces are fast, considering the sise of the animal, a journey of thirty-two miles being often done in six hours or less, with heavy baggage. They trot, canter and gallep, but the pace most esteemed by the natives is the amble or “skeid,” in which the fore and hind legs on a side are advanced simultaneously, giving a running action, very smooth to the rider. A good “pacer” is considered very valuable, and often sold for a high figure. Some of these ponies amble so fast that they keep ahead of another going at a hand-gallop, and they maintain the pace for a day's jour- ney under a weight of eleven to fourteen stone. Iceland ponies are steady and fast | in harness, though wheels are a compara- tively new departure in their country. They travel mostly in strings, often tied head and tail. Hay, baggage and house- hold goods are thus t: sported, and bulld- ing materials also. You meet a “timbur- lestur,” or timber team, of from eight to ten ponies, one carrying planks trailing on each side, another strips of iron, another bundles of tools; a certain number of spare animals running loose, and not infrequent- ly a foal or two. It is as rare to see a dead Iceland pony as a dead donkey, though their skulls are often visible, half trodden into the miry Ways surrounding the farms. The pony begins work at six or seven years—hare werk, that is to say. He is early appren- ticed to his trade by following his mother at her avocations, and when he is foot sore is strapped upon her back. He works well up to twenty years and over, and often re- mains fairly sound to a ripe old age. He feeds on the fat of the land in summer, and in winter, if his owner is poor, must live on his wits and his stored condition. Farmers who are fairly well off keep their animals in during winter and feed them on hay; but, notwithstanding, many of the ponies have a hard time of it. The Ice- larders, however, keep their steeds as well as their means allow, and treat them alto- If he has to ford gether .n a brotherly fashion; and the S. P. C. A. would seldom find scope for its activity, except, possibly, in the improve- ment of bitting and gearing. Taking it all arcund, the Iceland pony is certainly not less happy—very often far happier—than his bigger brothers in the south; and his endurance, placidity and docility make him a favorite in other lands besides his own, while fitting him for his home duties | ima manner which could not be ‘surpassed, and must be tested to be fully unde: rstood. ———_+o+_____ JEWS IN PALESTINE. Plan to Bring Together the Seattered Members of Isrnel. I. Zangwill in Cosmopolitan. Do you object that the poor will be the only ones to immigrate to Palestine? Why, it is just those that we want. Prithee, how else shall we make our roads and plant our trees? No mention now of the Eura- sian exemplar, the synthetic “over- -man.” Perhaps he is only to evolve. Do you suggest that an inner ennobling of scattered Israel might be the finer goal, the truer antidote to anti-semitism? Sim- ple heart, do you not see it is just for our good—not our bad—qualities that we are persecuted? A jugglery—spectous (pnough for the moment—w th the word “good;” forceful “struggle-for-life” qualities sub- stit:ted for spiritual, for ethical. And yet to doubt that the world would—and does— respond sympathetically to the finer et ments so abundantly in Israel, is it not t despair of the world, of humanity? In Ans a world, what guarentee against the pil- lage of the Third Tempie? And in such a world were life worth living at all? And, even with Palestine for ultimate goal, do you counsel delay, a nursing of the Zionist flame, a gradual education and preparation of the race for a great conscious historic role in the world’s future, a forty years’ wandering in the wilderness to organize or kill off the miscellaneous rabble—then will you, dreamer, turn a deaf ear to the cry of millions oppressed today? Would you ignore the appeals of these hundreds of telegrams, of these thousands of peti- tions with myriads of signatures, for the sake of some visionary perfection of to- morrow? Nay, nay, the cartoon of the Congress shall bring itself to Pass. Against the picturesque wailers at the ruins of the temple wall shall be set the no less pictur- esque peasants sowing the seed, whose harvest is at once waving grain and a re- generated Israel. The stains of sordid | traffic shall be cleansed by the dews and the rains. In the Jewish peasant behold the ideal plebeian of the future; a son of the soil, yet also a son of the spirit. And what fair floriage of art and literature may not the world gain from this great purified na- tion, carrying in its bosom w Orthos he experience ——+o+____ Philosopher Dooley and Golt, From the Chicago Post. The “H'm'm,” said Mr. Dooley. “A hot game.” “What?” said Mr. Hennessy. “Golluf,” said Mr. Dooley. “Lave me r-read it to ye: Both men Ghruv far, put Douglas’ ball fell into th’ long grass be- cause iv slicin’. Whigham got a good lie an’ made th’ green be a long brassy shot in two. Douglas got into a boonker on his second, but dhruv out nately with a-a-in-! bee-ill-ah-see-kay. Now what in th’ name iv hivin’ is that? Whigham’s puttin’ was bad an’ he wint over th’ hole three times. Douglas came on th’ green in four with a fine im-ah-ess-haitch-i-e—mashie shot— with a fine mashie shot, but Whigham put away his p-u-t-t-e-r—put away his putter— his putter—an’, takin’ a small c-l-e-e-k, cleek, won th’ hole fin’ ‘ily be wan shtroke.” “Good f'r him,” said Mr. Hennessy; “he done well. He ought to used th’ what-ye- call-him fr’m th’ go’off. But what's it all about?” “Faith, I dinnaw. Th’ more I read th’ less I know, an’ I've had twinty men in here this week askin’ me about it. I’ve studied th’ terms an’ I've consulted th’ pitchers. Here’s wan iy sixty women standin’ round in short skirta like th’ cho- rus in that there opera. ‘Th’ Mascot’ that th’ Bridgepoort Amachoor Theatricals done last year. “Here's a man with a windcw-pole over his head dancin’ a highland fling. Here's another man takin’ a high ball all alone on th’ stoop. Fr'm this it looks as if th’ game was f'r th’ la’nd on th’ stoop to tuck in r-rum till he'd want to dance, too, whin they'd both dance together. But here’s an- other pitcher that shows th’ ers gettin’ out in an an’ fr’'m that I it must be that th’ first | leaped vel mln nrc te a LASSOING CONDORS A Fortune Gained in a Year in This Unique Trade, VAST NUMBERS OF BIRDS TAKEN bas him up a tree. Him an’ me r-read it upside down an’ inside out an’ sint over fr a dichionary an’ ast a man in to take dhrink because we thought he was a Scotchman, az’ divvie a bit bether off ar-re we than whin we started. Th’ whole sixth wa'rd is crazy about it. Iverybody talks about it an’ no wan knows annything about it. I'll bet ye nex’ winter they’il be a night school down be Finucane’s hall, with a golluf profissor to teach th’ la’ads, an’ we'll have examinations. ‘What is a mashie? Describe niblick. If James has three foozles an’ gives wan to Charley an’ vats wan how manny will he have left?” Some- thing must be done to relieve th’ suspinse, an’ done at wanst. “F'r mesiif, I don’t see that it can iver be @ gr-reat nay-tional game. Look at this raypoort iv a ball game: ‘Cassidy hit th’ ball in th’ eye, knockin’ it to left field. He thried tu make second, but th’ empire call- ed him out. “Ye’r a human burglu: says Cassidy, advancing threateningly with a bat in his hand. “I fine ye twinty.” said Twenty Birds a Day Often Cap- tured and Killed. the empire. At that, Long Tom Collins, the*]R EW ARD FOR THEM Peerless third baseman, hit him on th’ nose an’ soon both teams was engaged in a live- I a as ly rite, with th’ audience throwin’ chairs | an’ pop bottles at th’ empire. It was tin | Los Angeles Letter to Philadelphia Times. minyits befure. th’ polis’ quieted down th | | Henry M. Knowles, who went to Chile ontestants an’ th’ game was rayshumed os Now, that's spoort: that’s tice ran. wa n Francisco in 1870 with Henry | from can See th’ raison f'r that. But can ye see | Meigs of South Aemrican railroad fame apny raison f'r a game that a man can’t and enormous wealth, came up the coast pa to indherstand without he knows | to Los Angeles the other day, after an ab- aelic as it’s talked in Scotland? Th’ on’y | sen, a gleam iv light I had was wnin [ seo thar | 2°8ce Of fifteen yeurs from California. He Douglas landed on th’ cop. ‘Now,’ says I, ‘there'll be fun. That Wheaton polisman will roll with him, sure.’ But ne'er a wur-r-rud more was then said about it. Avether th’ officer was afraid iv his job, or they have wan kind tv copper in Du Page county an’ another in Cook. went away a poor boy from San Francisco, and is now paying taxes on some million dollars worth of property in Callao, Peru, and in Valparaiso and other cities in Chile. “I got my start toward fortune,” said he yesterday in a group of old-time friends in ane a ae philosopher, “frm th’ ivi- | the lobby of the Nadeau Hotel, whea lence at hand, onless there’s some horrid | © 1 e a pi ered Sire ee ae Pressel to tell how he had prospered in i onto yet, golluf, can niver be a naytional spoort. South America, y lassoing condors. Taat It lacks th’ wan issintial for a good time, | ™@¥ Seem a very strange occupation for iv homicid money making, but it was not co uncom- Oo mon down in Chile and Peru. You I TIPPING OF GROOMS. had lived as a boy so long mong the —— lainsmes sas and Neva¢ How They Work the Blacksmiths for |Pinemen in Kansas and Nevada that I = became expert with the lariat and on a ben. horse. Before I was sixteen I could iasso From the St. Louls Globe-Democrat. and cattle with the best man in Neat, dapper and faultless of attire, the When I went down to Chile there modern groom, and especially his tips, fur- liga 3 gold and. silver nished the topic of conversation with a mines ond the nitrate depos its, so every- number of master horseshoers in the ro- tunda of the Lindell Hotel _yesterda Stories of the English groom and his ways peseed fom one to enother, until Gnally | Yow see the Mrls had bo 3, C. Buckley, ex-president of the National | they aevoorel tone ot oe rtanne on td Horscshoers’ Association, said: “What you | worth ef food every year, an say reminds me of a story told by a frie herds of sheep, and even c: of mine, a delegate from New York cit in their ferocity for ac As he is not pre-ent I'll try to tell hi myself. His first name is Joe. Mc you know nis other name. He the best places in New York cit: » and his full share of the best custom. Among his acquaintances or friends there tleman of wealth and refinement, who mar- ried a lady equally fortunate as himseif in this world’s goods. As a result of this marriage, of course, Joe’s friend had to get several carriages and pairs of horses in order to live in a style commensurate with his fortune, and, equally, as a matte of course, he had to have an up-to-date groom to look after them. Knowing Joe and liking him, as a matter of course, his horses were sent to Joe’s shop to be sh. On the first visit neither the groom, wh was a very swell-looking groom indeed, no body felt rich. The Chil the suggestion of Meigs, % for every condor kill republ You see the birds had be ch a nul- > prey upon, Money in Condors, “Well, the Chileans felt so prosperous that, coupled with their natural indo! they did not care to avail themsely the opportunities to make money by si ing the condors, for the vocation requires herd work and many physical risks. I not been down in Chile a week bet a chance to make more monvy tha ever before dreamed of possessing hy assoing and killing the mammoth birds. were three of us Yankers tn Valna- . rided_to xo into the con- dor-killing business. The next day, mount- ed on horses that Meigs bought for us, armed with guns and lariats, we Joe said enything outside of the usual | Ut to hunt condors among the fe formalities of business. Jce noticed the | #24 canyons and crags of the Antes moun. horses when they first came in, and | tains. We went over 30) miles, out omong thought that they hardly needed, shoeing, | the cattlemen and sheep herders. For a but he gave the order for the work, and | few days we had insiructions from a few it manic: Chileuwns as to the most experienced meth- “It was only a couple of weeks after that that the same horses were brought in to be shod again. This time Joe was so well sat- isfied that very little was necessary that he only had the shoes taken off and the same shoes put back. The groom, however, was not so well satisfied, and suggested to Joe ods of capturing the enormous and savage lirds, “In a few weeks we Yankees had learned every detail of hunting condors, and our rative ingenuity had added to the experi- ence of the Chiles For months I got from ten te twenty condor heads every day, the expediency of a little tip on his own ac- | and each one in our party did half as well count. To this proposal Joe gave a point- | as that training on the plains blank refusal. The groom said nothing, but | of Kan: la_ was my stock in it was hardly a week before he was back in | trade. Every month during the years ISTL the shop with one of the horses that had | and 1 I got warrants on the lost_a shoe. A day or two later he was] Chilean treasury for from to 3H back again with another horse. This kept up until finally Joe's friend called around ; at the shop and said: ‘See here, Jue, I can’t stand this kind of thing, you know. ‘There's something the matter, that these horses’ shoes keep dropping off in this w: and something's got to be done.’ ‘I kn: it,” replied Joe, ‘and the only wonder is you haven't dropped to it before.’ “He then told the story about the groom, and Joe’s friend, after listening attentively until he was through, said: ‘Well, that’s all right. You were ‘perfectly right, ol] man; only the next time the groom’ asks for his tip just give it to him and charge it to me in the bill. I have to have the groom, you know, and I guess the tips will have to come along with him. Ed Butler, jr., of St. Louis, who heard the story, sald: “That reminds me of a case in my own experience. I won't give any names, for none is necessary, but not long ago one of the leading citizens of St. Louis, who is at the head of a corporation | ¢: which is a gvod customer of mine, came to me and asked how often it was neces- One month when I had forwarded 218 dricd condor heads to the controller of Chile and had sworn that there was no fraud by me I got a warrant for $1,080. That 8 the red letter month in my cendor lassoing days. I was remote from civilization aad so could not spend my money if I -lesired. I never saved money like that before nor sinee. Some Big Birds, “The big birds used to be found in flo of seventy or eighty in the gi tries of the lower Andes in Central Chile. Like other members of the vulture family they search everywhere for carcasses upon which to feed. They have a wonderfully keen cye, and I have proved to myself that a condor cs ad animal ten and even fifteen miles awa y. I have tried sriments where condors have been al- d over eight miles from a raountain ag above the snow line by a bait of a ling goat in the valiey beiow. ks zing coun- “But the condor differs with other mem- sary to shoe a pair of carriage horses. I] bers of the vulture family in that it dow sn’t answered that it was necessary whenever | wait for something or somebody to ale in the shoes wore out. He laughed, and ask- | order that he may have his dinner, Int if ed me if I thought a horse's shoes could | he docsn't find a ready-made carase cone wear out twice a month. I saw what was venient on the plain when he is hungry he proceeds at once to provide that carcass the matter, and said that while a horse’: shoes might not wear out in fifteen days, a himself. The herds of cattle thi tured grocm might need a tip in that length ‘of | on the undulating plains betw an gi time. He then asked if the groom didn’t | penetrable wall of the Andes and the Pa- get 50 cents of the $2.50 charged for a set cific’ en ed line of pred of shoes, and I told him that it ak anOee fic’s white creste a | tin of surf offer A the that’ was charged for shoeing the horse. state of chronic hunger this king. of the The matter seemed to strike him in a new 3 feathered race levied the grazing herds. “Twenty-five years ago it was no uncom- mon tking to see hundreds of these fre booters hovering over the plains, each one a ravenous and determined dinner re from the herds below, to which the s! light, and he said he wanted me to shoe Seat pees oe all of his carriage horses, but if he ever heard of my giving the groom the custom- ary tip he would not only take away from me his private trade, but would take away the business of his company. As this busi- ness amounts to over $175 a month, you may be sure there are no risks taken of losing it.” ——_-+-e+___ dow of a condor’s wing carried as much terror as the appearance of a hawk does to a brood of chickens. The condor was the greatest enemy the stock raisers in that AN EXPENSIVE HONOR, part ef South America had to contend with, and it was his persistent and de- It Costs to Be Lord Mayor of | structive raids on grazing cattle that made London. London Letter to New York Tefbune. The expenditures for subscriptions and entertainment are largely in excess of the salary and the official allowances. It costs every lord mayor anywhere from £10,000 ($50,000) to £20,000 ($100,009) to occupy the office. The outgoing lord mayor, Sir George Faudel-Philips, has probably spent from £25,000 ($125,000) to £30,000 ($150,000) in ex- cess of his salary and allowances. He has taken charge of the Indian famine re- lef fund and many of the jubilee funds, and has been the patron of all the charities during an “annus mirabilis” of subscrip- tion lists and systematic codging. He has subscribed liberally to every fund. His gracious hospitality has been enjoyed by thousands of jubilee guests at the Man- sion House. The last year has been an excepticnal one, but the office is always a costly one. Whoever accepts it expects to pay heavily for the honor. No lord mayor ever emerges from the office with- out being at least £10,000 ($50,000) poorer for the experience, but the honor of knight- hood is invariably bestowed upon him, and his wife enjoys the distinction of being ad- dressed as Lady So-and-So. No alderman who has passed the chair ever returns to it. Re-election to the office never occurs. No alderman is willing to pay the tolls twice. He might be, if he could get a peer- age for a second term. The election of the lord mayor ts a bur- lesque performance, with touches of me- diaeval mummery, like the November pro- cession, with its tinsel splendors and gro- tesque pageantry. Half a dozen ex-sheriffs have an informal conference, and one of them agrees to take the office and to pay the costs for a year. The common crier, the recorder, the common sergeant, the mace beavers, the sword bearers and the chaplains appear for dress parade, and a small knot of liverymen-gives assent. The lord mayor is elected by representatives of the liveried guilds and he exercises juris- diction over a square mile of territory with a resident population of 35,000. The Great- er London, with its 700 square miles and | 7,000,000 residents—a world within itself— him an outlaw with a price on his head. Baiting Menu. “How did we capture these ferocious birds? Our first job every morning before we had even a peep of sunlight over the mountains was to carry the carcass of a dead animal, as a horse or a cow, out on the plain, where it could easily be seen frcm all points of the compass. We some- times made a carcass do service for a fort- night, but it required a strong stomach and indifference to stench. We moved about every few dcys from one locality to an- other, and never put the rottening body twice ir the same place, because of the ex- treme suspiciousness of an average con- dor. Generaliy we would move three or four miles every twenty-four hours, Some- times, when we were not doing 80 well we thought we should do, we would move ten miles away in another valley. After we had placed our batt carcass we set up our tents and the canvas flies that corcealed us and our horses from view of the condors. Breakfast w: no sooner over than we could see from our peep- holes in the canvas that hid us several condors coming down through the clouds from the mountain crests straikht toward our bait. We waited patiently until a dozen or more of the birds had eaten heart- ily of the meai_we had provided for and then we sprang to our horses, w! stood near, brified and saddled, ready tor the chase. In a second we were of, lar- jlats in hand, after the condors. ‘Too Heavy to Fiy. “It should be said here that when a cone dor hes gorged itself with food it cannot rise for flight unless after a long distance of running to give itself a momentum. It can get over ground, however, as fast ss a dog. Our methed was to follow the birds for half a mile or more, and then as they rese for flight to throw our lariats over age it that it was slipped down tcuched the shoulders of the wings before it would be tightened on the bird. “The condor was then a prisoner, but