Evening Star Newspaper, November 27, 1897, Page 17

2 a wro LIBRORS Qik anies CURIOUS BOOKWORMS Some Familiar Figures That Haunt the Astor Library. EACH PURSUING HIS OWN HOBBY Privilege of Using the Alcoves is Granted to but Few. MANY REGULAR READERS — Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. NEW YORK, November 24, 1897. N ACOMPARA- tively little while the famous Astor library will move, bag and baggage, books and reaaers, to its new home’ in the very heart of Greater New York. But the olki- time resting place of the collection found- ed by John Jacob Astor will always possess a keen inter- “est for book lovers. and some of the regular readers, who have spent most of their time during the past forty years within its walls, will feel some- what strange and a trifle lonely in their Lew quarters. There is a positive army of these old readers; and varied are the objects they pursue among the book-laden shelves. Some of them, indeed, would appear to have no perticular object in view, and the assistant librarians have never quite been able te «discover what particular branches of learn- ing a few of the “regulars” have been pur- suing all these long years. But, of course, the great majority of these “regulars” have distinctiy laid out paths of study. There is, to begin with, the very numerous class whose members act as agents for other people—“devils” they are curiously nicknamed in the slang of the great libraries. These individuals take ns to look up, examine, classify materials and data upon every krcwn ‘subject from moral philosophy to the culture of cranberries. Do you desire to have your pedigree and armorial bear- ings found? There are genealogical special- ists and heraldic authorities who will do the work—browsing over ‘marriage and death records, delving in the musty tomes tten family lore, or deft:y tracing the devices in the different British heraldic treatises, German wappenbuch and French armorials. Do you wish to gather matter for a learned ariicle without having the time ¢o spend in search? Skilled latorers will cheerfully undertake the me- chanical work, and deliver, in a given per- iod, a mass of accurately collated raw ma- terial for your examination and selection. The librarians generally have a number of these persons on their lists, and are obiiz- ing enough to place the names of such agents at the disposal of all and sundry. A 4 Conditions. After these professional searchers come the privateers. Playwrights haunt the libra- ry for dramatic ideas; novelists and writers generally, for historical data; costumers for tion on the habiliments of the past. oung dramatist, the author of a re- cessful historical play, admitted to the writer that every incident, character, scenic arrangement and costume in his drama had been “worked up” from ma- terials on the Astor library's groaning Moreover, he did it all himself, help from the agents, and aided only by the regular library employes. of the greatest living authorities on jurisprudence spends two days week in the library, collecting facis, nee and suggestions in rejation to his life's study. Another student of the same is interested in toxicology, but he de- separate and more extended notice. ns use the library extensiv. a strange and disagreeable fac are rather frequent mutilator University and high-school boys do great deal of their studying at the Astor and Lennox, and many learned professors lock in daily to refresh their memories by drafts from the founts of classical knowl- edge. The genealogical devotee belongs to a@ species which increases in numbers every year. Doubtless the many new societies of the Sons of the Revolution, colonial family associations and the like are responsible for this growth of interest in pedigree- hunting. Sorts An Expert on Poiso: But by far the most interesting visitors are those classed by the librarians under the head of “queer, odd, eccentric.” Take the toxicological student above alluded to. ‘This is a lawyer who had at one time an excellent practice, but became connected with a murder case in which poisoning played a prominent part. He consulted some volumes on the subject, and, as a re- toxicology began to fascinate him to iusion of everything else. Now, tox- y is a study which expands as one deives into its literature. There are many wenderful old black letter volumes on poi- 1 to these the lawyer-student de- attention. By constant study his has become a vast storehouse of ological lore. Such knowledge in the ion of a criminal might be excep- ally dangerous: and it gives one a de- 'y reepy” sensation to hear this the last gramme every lebrated poisons of the 3 r He knows exactly rine de Medicis poisoned apples and pears, and how she managed to make ons which did their deadly work by inhalation alone. During a celebrated poi- ng case, which startled New York «ome few years ago. this authority gave a great amount of highly important counsel to the lawyers for the defense. He is very care- ful to point out that he is not an “agent doing all his researches for love and not for money. As in the case of most readers of the “queer” class, he has a modest com- petence, which permits him to devote his time to this particular branch of study, without being hampered by financial con- siderations. ‘The Man Who Laugh: Another notable student is the “little old patent lawyer,” as the library boys call him. This worthy devotes his whole a:- tention to patent cases, but no one hus ever seen his name in connection with any patent application or trial. He totls through the dry-as-dust literature of the patent of- fices from an honest love of the subject. The curious patents issued in America and Europe he has on his fingers’ ends. When he makes a new “‘find” neighboring read- ers may observe that his ordinarily satur- nine face becomes wreathed in smiles. Especially amusing or original inventions he greets by a loud cackle of merriment accompanied by the cracking of his fingcr joints and vigorous slapping of the-knees. To the nervous reader who does not know - these peculiarities the “little old patent lawyer's” cachinantory hysteria was apt to be startling in the extreme, so tha finally the library authorities were moved to offer him a separate alcove, wherein he now reads, and from which, at unexpected intervals, come forth bursts of shrill senih hilarit: The Man Who Sleeps. Almost every day some casual visitor falls asleep in the library, and has to be awakened by the attendants. But one per- sen is, in a measure, privileged as regards somnolence. This person is a sufficiently well-known literary man, and to slumber is his infirmity, not his fault. He studies in the Astor regularly, but every day, at the approach of noon, he cannot keep him- self from falling into a doze. Years ago, when this habit first became noticeable, efforts were made to wake him up. But no sooner was he aroused than he promptly resumed his siesta. Day after day the same trouble occurred. The man was a bona fide student, and a brilliant writer, but he would fall asleep for an hour or more every day. Indeed, he admitted that he could not help doing so, the habit having been acquired in Spain and the East Indies, where the siesta is a sine qua non. Finally a compromise was arrived at. The librry folk permitted the somnolently inclined au- thor to sleep in peace, provided that he Seught out some secluded corner of the reading room where his occasional snores could not annoy his neighbors. A Small Boy Antiquarian. A puzzle to the librarians (who never, by the way, invite confidences on the part of the readers) is the small boy anti- quarian. This precocious youth cannot possibly be more than thirteen or fourteen years of age. He wears knickerbockers and a rolling collar; his eyes are mildly blue; his hair is neatly divided and of a golden hue. Altogether, he looks the con- ventional small boy of careful up-bringing. But when he comes to the Astor library— as he does several days in the week—his steps gravitate toward the shelves devoted to genealogy, heraldry and archaeological lore. Climbing the ladder in a business-like way, he draws forth some heavy tome (heavy in every sense of the word) and, frequently with the assistance of an at- tendent, drags it to a table. Then out comes his pencil and paper. For hours he examines and copies, traces coats of arms and goes through it ali with the gravity ard interest of a practical antiquarian. He is something of an authority on pedigrees, too, this smull boy, and when ladies come in asking about the Smith, Jones or Robin- son family trees he can tell them to a nicety where they may be found. “But, dear me!” remarks the mild-man- nered superintendent of the antiquarian department. “If he knows so much about genealogies at thirteen. he ought to be a Bernerd Burke or a Foster befcre he is twenty.” Alcove Readers. Mention has been made of the alcove readers. This is a privileged class, in which the freedom of the library is prac- tically presented. For the most pd¥t they are “grave and reverend seigniors” of lit- erature, science and art, whose researches cannot be hampered by the filling out ot slips and the waiting for books, and who are allowed to help themselves at the shelves, and to do their work within the library inclosures.2 But in many instances the alcove readers have been granted their excepticnal privileges because of some ben: efit conferred upon the library in the past. An interesting case is that of a gentleman who made a lucky discovery of books sev- eral years ago. This individual happened to be in Venice and drifted—literally “arifted,”” for he used a gondola—to the door of a second-hand book shop. In the old shop he found by chance a number ot cobwetbed books, part of the library of a former British consul. The dealer sold him the entire lot for £2 sterling. They were ivaded into his gondola and conveyed to the hotel at which he was staying. On examination they were found to be all au- tograph volumes, containing the signatures of Samuel Johnson and a number of other famous writers. The traveler brought them to America and presented the entire collection to the Astor library. A card admitting him to the alcoves was there- upon granted honoris causa.” ae FOOD CROP FOR ARID REGIONS, The Raising of Kaflir Corn Expected to Render Fertile Many Tracts. A new industry, which is expected to have a great development during 1898, and which will add largely to the agri- cultural resources of the arid region of western Kansas, Nebraska and Okla- homa, once reckoned almost a part of the great American desert, is the rais- ing of kaffir corn. Kaffir, as its name suggests, is of African origin, and is a substitute for both corn and wheat. For two or three years past the Department of Agriculture hes been experimenting with it, and it has been found peculiar- ly adapted to the drouth-stricken re- sion of the west, where a crop of Indian corn cannot be realized oftener than once in three years oa the average. Kaflir, it is claimed, flourishés best where there is least rainfall, and the seven plagues of Kansas—drouth, sand, alkali, hot winds, grasshoppers, chinch bugs and fake rainmakers—will be alike powerless to affect it. If all that the advocates of the new cereal claim for it proves true, it will Frove a boon, indeed, to the-dry district, and may even drive out its eighth and greatest plague—the mortgage holders. In appearance, kaffir seems to be a cross between corn and sorghum. Its season for growth is about the same as that of na- tive corn, and it 1s cultivated in much the same thanner. The stalks grow to a height of from four to six feet and are about the size and thickness of ordinary corn stalks. ‘The stalks bear more leaves than those of Indian corn, however, and these leaves are broader, longer and of a deeper color. The grain grows at the top of the stalk and the kernels, which are unprotected by husks, are considerably smaller than those of the native product and of a dark pur- plish hue. These seeds, or kernels, are very hard and firm, and in grinding them there {s littie waste, on account of the thinness of the hull. A bushel of the grain weighs sixty pounds, the same as wheat, but when ground it requires six or seven pounds more of wheat to make an equal amourt of flour. Though the new grain is not well enough established to deter- mine its average yleld per acre, it is be- Heved that in this respect also it will have a considerable advaatage over wheat. The one objection which has thus far prevented the cultivation of kaffir from toon te: inabilit if ‘ating mills nd been the inability of ex! to grind suitable for making bread. it into flour Many Kansas farmers and a few in Okla- homa raised a little of the new grain as an experiment during the past season. But when they took it to the local mills, most of which are equipped for the old burr process of grinding, the result was found unsatisfactory, as the flour, though excel- lent for cattle, was not ground fine enough for house use. To overcome this difficulty two or three of the men, who are interest- ed in establishing xaffir as a staple cereal, went to Chicago, where-a series of experi- ments with different inds of machinery was carried on. As a result, it was found that the tinest of roller. mechinery worked satisfactorilyy in reducing the new grain and turned it into fiour whiter and of finer quality than that obtained from wheat. A mill at Marquette, Ken., has already been equipped with the new machinery, and is doing a lively busi- ness in grinding kaffir flour. It is announc- ed that a big mill, specially equipped for this work, will be erected in Chicago, and will soon be ready for operation. The flour made from kaffir has been ex- amined and pronounced as nutritious as wheat or corn. ‘The bread made from it is as light and as agrceable to the taste as the best wheat bread. It is claimed that the new kind of flour will answer every purpose to fulfill which Indian corn and wheat are now relied on. The prospects of the new grain seem very bright, and if it endures the test of a year or two of trial we may expect to see its cultivation ex- tensively adopted, at least in the region where rain is an infrequent and uncertain luxury and disappointment is often the lot of the farmer who relies upon the two great American staples. AN EXPERIMENT IN DETECTION. The Crossing Policeman is Wine ax Solomon When Necessary. Frem the Chicago Times-Herald. It is a question how some of the police- men stationed at downtown street intersec- tions manage to keep from getting the brain fever. The wear and tear on their physical energies must be enormous. No potentate of a patchwork monarchy ever had a harder time to balance his favors. He is: between a dozen fires. Besides all this he is in imminent personal danger to life and limb from people who can’t drive and horses which won't be driven. This danger is not imaginary, as many suppose. Indeed, several policemen have already been severely hurt in this manner while in the discharge of their duty. At the same time he is absolutely necessary at nearly all of the downtowr crossings. It is wonderful how the presence of a policeman at these places facilitates things. If it were not for his prompt action and the authority he carries the city would hawe to erder ambulances by wholesale, and half the populaticn would be going about. on crutches. It seems to be the intense desire and ambition of every teamster to run peo- ple down. One would think there was some sort of a bounty attached to knocking a woman senseless or breaking a man’s leg. It seems to be the settled opinion of every dray-driving Acteon that people who wish to cross should wait on the sidewalk until after 6 o'clock, while the coachmen of pro- prietors of carriages evince a laudable am- bition to give the'r employers a taste of how it would feel to ride on the heads of the people. The policeman who maintains life and order at the meeting of two down- town streets must ne possessed of consid- erable judgment. He must know when to make a hole in the wall, so to speak, through the mass of vehicles and let a por- tion of the surging humanity surge through. He must know how to do several things at ence. To at the same time chat pleasantly with a lady friend of his, tell a woman from the suburbs where the street she’s on is, and pull a couple of old gentlemen from the jaws of cable cars. And, what is more surprising, mest of the downtown force can do this. And, what is truly astonishing, nearly all do it in a gentlemanly manner, and keep their tempers well. It is not infrequently that an officer fs found who ¢an do all this and more, too. At State and one cf the most prominent cross streets there is a policeman who is a close second to the caliph that decided the ownership of an infant in his own high- ly original way. Among many instances where his acumen has played a particular part is one that happened a day or so ago. It concerned a bicycle. The latter was left by its rider against the curb. A few min- utes later a young man approached ft. The Policeman in question had not seen the owner get off the mzchine, but he thought the newcomer looked a trifle suspicious. The chain and sprocket wheel of the bdi- cycle had been secured together by a pad- lock. When the young man in question be- gen to carry the wheel off instead of un- locking it he felt it was about time to act. “Do you own that bicycle?” he said to the young man. “Yes,” was the reply. re’s your key, then?” was his next. “I've lost it.” That settled it. “Say, now,” continued the policeman, “will you give me your name and address?” ‘Dhe young man seemingly did not want to make any trouble. He hesitated for a moment and then said: “Why, yes, if you want it.” “And, now,” continued the policeman, after he had it, “you know the case looks “strange and you know we have so many bikes lost, would you mind waiting fifteen minutes to see if any one else should come after that wheel?” “No, I guess not,” said the young man. ‘Then he leaned back on a railing and began to wait. After he had been there three or four minutes the policeman said: “Well, I guess it’s ali right. You can go.” And then turning to a bystander he remarked: “You can bet your next month’s pay he wouldn't have stood there if it wasn’t his.” Professional Courtesy. From Punch. Ob! cornet—“Wants a bob easy, don’t er? next road but one—number ola gent ; buy you off in two minutes if you gives it ‘em strong?’ FAME AND -FORTUNE Mme. Severine Has Achieved Both FAMOUSNEWSPAPER WOMAN OF PARIS She is Ever Ready to Plead the _ Cause of the ‘Oppressed. A CONSISTENT COMMUNIST Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, November 18, 1897. HE MANTLE OF Louise Michel, should it fall on any one, ought most appropri- ately to flap around theshoulders of Mme. Severine, the human- itarian lady journal- ist of Paris. It is not that there are many points of like- ness between the two, apart from the great fact of their femi- a ninity, thefr commun- ism, their Parisianism and their power of making themselves heard. In everything else the flaming old woman of the people is almost at the opposite pole from the gentle- featured, ladylike little bourgeoise rejoicing in the nom de plume of Severine. Yet such is their similarity of aim and sentiment that those who looked at Louise Michel one time with such wide-eyed interest now are contemplating Severine with the same sen- timent. It seems that Paris must contin- ually have some woman of this sort to voice the unhappiness of her unfortunates. Mme. Severine is a Paris newspaper wri- ter who has made her fame and her for- tune by her articles in favor of people ve- longing to the seamy side of life. She has ‘protected anarchists, innocent and guilty; lived with communists, obtained pardons for convicts, interfered in strikes and elec- tions, and collected money for declasse women. In general, any oppressed person or thing has her sympathy; wherefore she encouraged Naundorff, pretender to the throne of France; defended Philippe d’Or- leans, the ‘conscript prisoner,” with equal ardor; interviewed the pope and set him right before the world, and, after having cried against Boulanger, wept for pity of him when he fell. Writes Feelingly. She has cultivated a style of hysterical wailing which has criginality of its own, unquestionably makes moving reading and gives people the sentimental thrills tor which they ask today. Certainly she is a woman of feeling, or she would not be able to express feeling 80 touchingly. And, just as she has need of feel:ng in order to write feelingly, so she has need of the oppressed, in crder that she may continue to feel. No one would Lave. thought from her early life that she would become the best paid journalist of Paris, contributing, as she does, at a fixed rate of $00 apiece, five leading articles each week, ‘which appear in as many prominent, journals of Paris. The Eclair, Matin, Gaulais, Journal and Gil Blas are her regular papers. She writes frequently for the Figaré and Petit Journal us well. Her vogue is’ equal to that of Rochefort or Drumont,.,The poet has spok- en of tears, idle tears. I w not what ther mean. These are ‘not idle tears, the tears of Sevcrine, and every one does know what they mean. Her First Flight. She is a Parisienne of the petite bour- geoisie, that self-respecting, . struggling lower middle class, whose existence is so painfully passed in making beth ends meet &nd proudly concealing its efforts. Her father, a lost-child detective attached to the prefecture of police wag at once a man of learning and piety, of the somber Jan- senist Roman Catholic type. Her mother appears to have been an admirable house- keeper, tranquil, religious and cold. The home life was rigid. Whether as a result of this rigidity or es a merely premature flickering of the holy flame, while she was yet a child of seven years, she profited by her mother’s tales cf kidnaping tramps and gipsies to put on her hat and walk away one morning. Taking with her her doll, the remains of a cherry pie, and a laurel crown won at a school examination, she fled across Paris, gained the Place des Invalides, where a gipsy fair was in course, and, carefully selecting the blackest old witch of the caravan, bowed politely, with the words: “Madame, I have come to be stolen.” Later Childhood. ‘There are glimpses of her later childhood and early maiden life, where nine hours a day of the piano seem with difficulty to ac- commodate themselves with the ground- work of a profound erudition in Latin, Greek and mathematics. We have it from her own account, given to the anarchist student Zevaco, that “for an instant she thought of God. The tenderness which smoulders in this burning soul sought a refuge in the mysticism ef which she will never be cured; so much so that in the con. vent school the superior said to het ‘Daughter, remain with us. You will be the Saint Theresa of our order.’” Never- theless, at fifteen years of age, she was married to an honorable man, who was able to support her in material plenty. In_1880 Madaine Severine found herself in Brussels on a pleasure trip with her husband. There she made the acquaintance of the arch-communist Valles, who had escaped being shot against the wall with his fellows to languish in exile in the pleas- ure-loving capital of Belgium. She under- stood that she was born for the second time. In the same year an amnesty brought Valles back to Paris. One of his first acts was to propose a career to Severine. She shculd work with him; he would teach her the “trade” of jo.rnalist. She accepted with enthusiasm, and, all happy and glow- ing, communicated the news to her hus- band. He, with the rest of the family, ob- jected, and Severine, despairing, shot her- self in the breast, after having written a pathetic letter to Valles, attached to her pillow by a hatpin. Two months later, being again on her fcet, they permitted her to follow her destiny. She became the pu- pil, secretary and companion of Valles. Communistic Beginning: “Now, the true nature of Severine (to quote from the account of one of her hang- ers-on), her true nature, made up at once of tenderness and gayety, bloomed into a magnificent flowering.” Seated at a little table beside the master, ac@§ally dipping her pen into his ‘ink bottle, she copied his manuscripts in a in ingyen acceptable to the compositors. In thé evening they wan- dered to a neighboring vurant, interro- gating the street, that enormous book, al- Ways open, whose every page contains a romance, a drama or a comedy. He taught her to see and interpret. At other times they stayedMin the house, and the fair pupil, transformed to nurse, prepared the dinner for the already aging and sickly Valles. C book in hand, she gave herself up earn to, the study of fhe cuisine au beurre, and she did not seek to hide the pride with which her progress in the science filled her. Vi grew rap- idly worse, and more.importalit duties were intrusted to her. } ng ‘Where she had copied . she now cor- rected proofs. Soon sh¢ was=inserting ad- jectives—always submitted beforehand to the maser. At last she became active col- laborateur. And the articles of Valles ap- | Peace) during the last three years of his ife—he oe early in 1885—are orn to be made up of a large proportion work of this new. Parisian journalist, the only weman journalist of Paris then, as now. In 1883 Valles began to float the Cri du Peuple, and in it Severine appeared for the first time over her own mame. Two stormy ‘Whatever else may am old man, and a the last. His in Paris. be said of hi revol STAR. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1897-24 PAGES. ering themselves with ineffaceable shame in insulting the woman who had received them and ministered to their wants.” The Cri du Peuple perished, after the fashion of socialist sheets, for lack of money. Severine never attempted to found Another. She saw her future already made for her in the security of well-paid contributions to the bourgeois press itself. To her wounded companions, socialists “too pure,” she had an unanswerable justification when they reproached her: “Valles, who continued to be one of the writers on the Matin from the days of its foundation; who gave a great deal to the Figaro, the France, the Voltaire, the Evenement and the Gil Blas, himself incul- cated in me this idea—that one is not held to writing exclusively in journals which refiect only the opinions of their readers. Evidently it is more agreeable to write for the sympathetic, only they are always the same readers, already converted revolu- tionary socialists, exactly as the public at our meetings is always the same public. The great idea does not advance an iota. It was Valles himself who cited to me in this regard the example of missionaries who go far #om home, among strange People, to bring them glad tidings.” Valles himself told me!- Who should know better? Severine has always had her answer in this phrase. But what Valles did not confer upon her is her literary style, her facility for emotion and her feminine itsouciance of logic, facts or consequences. In the doing of good, as she understands it, she exhibits the erergy of a friend. In both quantity and quality of work she has, in ten years, outstripped every Paris jour- ‘Palist with the exception of a few great hames. Her articles sell papers. And what articles! All France knows them, all ears have in them the echo of her rhythmic sobs, the thrilling vibrations of her superb anger, the sirupy murmurs of her consol- ing pity. Her subjects never vary. Her Motives. When she takes her pen in hand—a thing which she does daily—it is to defend no matter what forlorn cause, to protect no matter what oppressed victim of the pres- ent social system, or to cry down no mat- ter what abuse. Severine is always raising money for some needy person or ceuse. In this respect she has laid herself open to the suspicion of self-seeking, because there is no one au- thorized to supervise the handling of the sums. On the other hand, it would be un- just to accept what may be only the in- sinuations of enemies. On this side of her career she is at best, however, nothing but en example of a ‘philanthropic woman, ac- knowledging ro law but her sentimental sympathies. Her cause is undoubtedly helped by the fact of the existence of the suffering she portrays and the evils which form the real grievance at the basis of the communistic- anarchistic-socialistic agitation. In her fa- vor the facts remain that she is received, with her appeals for money, in the best of the freer Boulevard journals of Paris; that the great income from her daily writings ought to amply cover the lavish personal expenditure of which she is accused. She is surrounded by a set of social reformers and iiterary journalists who receive her hospi- tality and profit by the rays of her sunlight. She is a moral ferce, and there are many who bless her name. But one cannot but reflect what a terrible thing it would be for Severine should misery and injustice be banished from the world. STERLING HEILIG. ——— GEORGE TALKS SERIOUSLY. And is Grieved by the Tendency of Mabel Toward Frivolity. From the Chicago Daily Tribune. “Mabel, you can trust me, can’t you?" Tremulously, almost appealingly, he spoke, yet his deep bass voice seemed to jar the windows. “Yes, George,” replied the maiden, “I——” “When I tell you,” he broke in, “that I never loved any other girl, that I never knew what love was—or is—till I met you; that I never could love anybody else if I should live to be as old as the hills—D. B. Hill and Sam Hill—and that since the very first day I met you I have hardly slept a wink—people don’t wink when they sleep, but it would be taking a base advantage to pick me up on a technicality like that—” “Yes, George,” interposed the fair young girl, in that low soft voice which is so ex- cellent a thing in women and children, can trust you—” “I felt sure of it!” fervently exclaimed the young man. ‘‘Mabel Harkalong, if the devotion of a whole lifetime—what noise was that?” “It must have been the echo. needn't talk so loud, George.”” He drew a long breath of relief. “I thought it was your father. “I can hear you in a much lower tone, George. You are sitting’—she measured the distance with her eye—“not more than a foot and a half awa: But that’s near enough,” she added hastily, as he showed immediate symptoms of shortening the in- terval. “Mabel, why should—"- “The spirit of mortal be proud?” “Don’t interrupt me, young woman, when I am talking seriously. It isn’t respectful. I am older than you. Four and a half years older. Why should——” “We mourn departed friends or shake at—' “Again, Miss Harkalong, I must insist on a respectful hearing.” His voice resumed the tremulous, appeal- ing tone in which he had begun. . “When two people—two persons—who, I am sure—" “Don’t assume too much, George.” “Why should trifles be allowed to sep- arate us? Mabel—’ “He calls a foot and a half,” she mur- mured, abstractedly, “a trifle!” “Mabel!” “Well?” “Will you listen to me?” “What was it you started to say? forgotten.” “I was trying to find out why you can’t be serious with me for once. You treat me as if I were a gourd-headed dude. Have you ever seen me trying to smoke a cane? Do I ever give you the sky-scraping hand- shake? Do I wear collars that make me throw up my head when I want to nod? Was I ever a Columbian Guard? Do I talk like a Broadway Englishman? Do I act like a West Park policeman? (You listen to my tale of—of love as if I were telling some old story you had heard a hundred times—”” “Why, so it is, George—an old, old story.” “Mabel Harkalong! You shall hear me! You shall not treat me any longer—” “I have never treated you in my life,” she protested, “to anything. I am not an advocate of women’s rights to such an ex- tent as that.” “Once more, Mabel, tel! me you trust me.” “Oh, George,” she said, with a slight yawn. “I trust you—as far as I can-sling @ four-year-old mule by the tail.” And George straightened up and looked once more in front of him. He had for- gotten they were in a box at the horse show. You I've ——_+e+__ An Aluminum Hon: Mr. A. F. Howes of Weymouth, Mass., has recently secured patents in this coun- try and in Canada on a portable aluminum’ house, which when packed for transporta- tion is In three compact bundles and weighs but 130 pounds, including the stove and sundry cooking utensils that go with it. The Klondike home, as it is called, will comfortably house four people, and besides being built in such a way that its inmates are well protected from the coldest weather, it is fireproof, a feature which is of no small importance when one considers the strong inclination of prospectors to over- heat their stoves in order to keep cne half comfortable. ; facture of which is a common sight in ed TO RUN ON ELECTRIC ROADS Private Cars May Soon Become Quite Common. One Fine Specimen im Cleveland and Attracts Attention. Written for The Evening Star. A recent and novel development of the private railroad car is the private street car. -On all great railroad systems the road dignitaries and high officials have spe- cial rolling palaces allotted to them, each one costing from $15,000 to $18,000. This luxurious example is now beginning to be followed by the street railways, and a spe- cial street car has just been built for the service of a Cleveland, Ohio, line magnate. The costly vehicle is ornamented with precious woods, and set with decorative panels by one of the noted painters of the day. The innovation is surely indicative of the sybaritic trend of the times. The car in question runs on the street car lines of Cleveland, Ohio, and belongs to Mr. John J. Shipherd, a milionaire resident of that city, who is identified with many of Cleveland's railway interests. The car was built es- pecially for Mr. Shipherd and is prgbably the finest of its kind in service anywhere. While much less than half the size of a Pullman, it cost about one-half as much, or $6,000, and is decorated in a manner not yet attempted in any of the more preten- tious carriages in the service of the great railways. The excuse for its existence is quite sufficient, as the street railroads of Cleveland are many miles in length, no better way could be found to entertain friends and distinguished visitors than an afternoon of travel under such conditions. The name of this car is Minerva, and its chief feature is a series of decorative panels for the ceiling, done by George R. Barre, jr., of New York, representing inci- dents from the life of Minerv: The exterior of this luxurious traveling carriage is painted a deep quaker green, the roof and truck being a lighter shade of the same color. The more general delicate ornamentation fs all in an a step on one side only, The interior of the car is finished in finely figured Mexican frontier mahogany, rubbed to a dull finish, and the vestibules in polished cherry. All the metal trim- mings are of poiished bronze, and the panels between the windows contain a bev- eied-edge mirror. The ceiling, in which Mr. Barre’s panels are set, is painted with zinc white, with a faint tint of green. To enhance the richness of the mahogany wilton carpet and portiere curtains of silk tapestry, with a gold figure, have been used. The roll shades are of plain ribbed silk, which are in turn supplemented by a set of storm curtains ef weather-proof ma- terial, which are rolled up out of sight when not in use, and are intended for sum- mer, to exclude rain when the sash is out. Instead of the customary stationary seats the car is supplied with ten e: chairs of shelacked rattan, with plush-covered hair cushions, and two two-seated settees for the opposite corners. The room is heated by electric heaters set back of the panel work under the windows, and a powerful electric headlight is provided at each end. There have been many attempts to build fine private cars of this character, but usually more zeal than judgment has been exercised, and the result has been mere gaudy ostentation and a display of money inconsistent with harmony and good tast In this instance the car is deemed a model of tasteful decoration and one of the won- ders of the city of Cleveland. WHAT THEY EAT IN CHINA. Wheat a General Article of Food as : Well as Rice. Consul General Jernigan, Shanghai. Although rice is generally regarded by the Chinese as the “staff of life,” a large quantity of wheat has been used from the most ancient times, and in the earliest classifications wheat is mentioned as one of the five grains. In the northern prov- inces, where rice is not grown and can only be purchased by the well to do, wheat is the most common cereal, but it is of a very poor quality. Blasted heads are seen in large numbers every year and ergotism is a too frequent cause of disease among the poor. The wheat is ground by a very primitive process. The mill consists of two light stones, which are turned by aid of a blind- folded mule. The flour is coarse and dark, chiefly used in the form of vermicelli, and, when steamed, makes a good substitute for rice, and when mixed with a little broth, |! flavored with a dash of soy, it forms a very savory dish. To use the Chinese term. they are the “suspended” and the’ “dropped; the former is the true vermicelli, the manu- many northern villages, where strings of the paste, fastened at the ends of two light i pended before the doors of the cottages even in the main streets. The strings are generaily lengthened by pulling down “‘little by little’ the lower stick, a dozen or twenty strings being fastened to each pair of sticks. The chopped vermi- celli is made by rolling out the dough and cutting it in thin strips with a knife fasten- ed to the board like a straw chopper. Wheat flour is also used for making rolls which are lightened with leaven, and these are cooked by steaming, as are the many varieties of patties containing minced meat, molasses, or a kind of jam. The steamer consists of sieves, fitting tightly one upon another, which are covered and placed over the kettle in which the meat or other food is being cooked. The ordinary Chinese, whether in city or village, takes his breakfast at the tea house or restaurant. It consists almost en- tirely of these meat rolls or patties; the latter are dipped in vinegar, soy, or a so- lution of red pepper, when eaten. Some- times the steamed rolls, after they have grown old, are made palatable by being toasted on a grill over a charcoal fire. An- other popular dish is doughnut fried in oil. Baking is almost entirely unknown, but there is a cake of the size and shape of an ox rib which is baked by being stuck on the inside of a jar-shaped furnace, im which there is a hot charcoal fire. These cakes are sometimes circular, but in every care they are covered with the seeds of the sesame, which add very much to the flavor. Another variety is a large, round cake, cooked on a griddle, and which is divided into quarters when offered for sale. The Mohammedan Chinese make a similar cake, of which they are also very fond, without using any pork fat. For the better quality of native pastry and confectionery, rice flour is used, but at the treaty ports and the cities to which foreign influence has extended, many forms of sweet cake and biscuit are made of American flour. Even for purely native va- rieties of rolls and cakes the American flour -is now preferred on account of its whiteness and wholesomeness. Within a few years past the importation of American flour has rapidly increased. In the heart of China, ten years ago, it wai almost unknown away from the treaty ports, but now bags of American flour may be seen in large quantities stacked in the shops of inland cities. Accurate statistics can not be had as to the quantity of Amert- can flour imported and the customs returns are silent on the subject, except with ref- erence to two or three of the southern ports. In the last volume of the returns, it ay that Canton takes about one- third of the whole importation of American flour. The figures for Canton in 18% were 175,684 piculs (1 picul equals 133 1-8 pounds), valued at $439,088 in gold. This would seem to give, for the whole of China, 527,052 Piculs, valued at $1,317,264.12. It will doubtless occur that where so much wheat is grown it is only needed to but unless the quality of the wheat pro- duced in China ly the for American flour is hkely to go on increasing. flour “Did the doctor do anything to help your ‘rheumatism?’ “I guess so. Anyway, it has gained on me steadily ever since.”—De- fournal, | trott J a | a final solution of all the difficulties which ! now hamper and oppress the book trade? Cheap Books. From the London Times. Matthew Arnold was generally accounted a visionary, but he was eminently practical when he pleaded for cheap books. That way lies the true remedy for existing evils. Were a popular writer and a powerful pub- lisher to make the experiment of bringing out, let us say, the @s. novel at 3s., the result would probabiy be gratifying beyond expectation--provided, of course, the book- sellers did not repeat their old foll The history of popular literature proves that fortunes He not in nigh prices, but in big sales. The cost of production need not frighten any one. The book of today is produced at a figure which even five years ago would have been thought impossible; and the cheaper book could be produced at a yet lower rate without sacrifice of qual- ity. What has been done in France with such signal success can be done in England. With the 3s. or half-crown volume “every genuine reader,” to quote Arnold again, ‘will feel that the book he cares to read he will care to posses: Would not that awakened desire of possession be the best of all auguries? 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