Evening Star Newspaper, December 18, 1897, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1897-26 PAGES, Written for The Evening Star. “There is patriotism enough in the aver- age American,” remarked a distinguished men to a Star reporter, ‘“‘which can be de- pended upon under any and all circum- but I am sorry to say that as as patriotie songs are concerned the American general man or woman, gives but little attention to them. They enjoy them well enough when others sing them, but somehow they do not learn them or sing them as do the people of other na- tions. There may have been a time in our history when our people learned the words and sang our patriotic songs, but that time is passing, or, indeed, I might say,. has sed away. It is rare that on the occa- sion of a patriotic gathering the audience can be enthused sufficiently to join in sing- ing our national hymns. Take the Star Spangled Banner, for instance. How few there are, even among school children, who know the words of more than the first Stanza. Of course, they all know the air, and a few, very few, know the words or a pertion of the words of the first stanza, I was re- gathering in a large city. Some one suggested company should join in singing Spangied Banner.” The invitatien was z pled, and the song went well enough until the first ve ‘Then they all failed, and out of i ty-five people there but one knew the words of the remaining portions of the scng. All kinds of ex were made, but the fact remained that they could not get through with it. A rch was made threugh the house for the words, but though nearly all kinds of modern songs nd music could be found, for our hosts . t are called musical people, ‘The angled Banrer’ Id not be found. > next suggestion was t ‘My Coun- ‘Tis of Thee’ should be sung. That rs even a worse failure. There were not five persons in the com y who could ive the words of even the first verse. How this In is mm other countries. ery_one, man, woman and child, mg the ‘¥ ng, and does rsellaise.” ze of ‘ord of and a half * idea of the publication in The Star of last Saturday against the pernicious habit of ‘crowding’ studies on the children of the public and other schools impressed themselves forcibly on me,” said a well- known officlal to a Star reporter. “I went throvgh the whole matter with my own nine children, and now my wife apd my- self are enjoying what Josh Billings clever- ly termed second crop of children,” our grandchildren, of whom several are already attending school. Like the speak- er reported then, I would not put the slight- est th in the way of any ambitious child, aspiring to and making a record and having that record the best that can be made, but there is something else in life than records, for good as they may be in school life they are forgotten in a few years after the child grows into col- lege, university or business or professional life. Often a child makes a record at the expense of what is much more important, health. Ierealized this fully with my own children and even more with my grandchildren. ‘Teachers, that is the or- dinary teachers, may and do know a great deal about the science and art of teaching, but they are apt to look at things entirely frem th wn standpoint; with them the allow child to go too far; that is, to make tce many records. They encourage the idea that the child that leads the class 4s getting the most education. This is not elways true, though it may be to a cer- tam extent. They also alarm the children into believing that if they were to miss a day now and then in their attendance or fail in a lesson now and then in their studies their education would be wrecked. This is not true. After we grow up, we find that there are days that we do not do as well in our various occupations as we do in others. They are our ‘off’ days, as it were. There are also ‘off’ days with school children, and if a parent can discern them it is his or her duty to give them a recre- ation on those days instead of forcing them to schools at these particular times. Here is where ‘crowding’ comes in. Of course there is such a thing as laziness, but the careful parent can distinguish between them. A child that leads a class in twen- ty-filve days out of thirty year in and out is not likely to be guilty of laziness, in the true meaning of the word. School teach- ers themselves have their ‘off’ days, and in some instances they are more frequent than with a combined number of pupils, but somehow they can not get !t into the: heads that children are similarly affecte ke KX “It is pretty well known to those who have informed themselves on the subject that Major L’Enfant, a French engineer, laid out the plan of Washington,” said a leading physician, who has given a great deal of attention to a study of the early history of this city, “and that Andrew El- licott was employed to complete the work. the big property owners of the day being combined against L'Enfant for the rea- son that some of the lines laid down by him ran into their property, as they under- stood to the injury thereof, and that El- iicott did finish it. It is not generally known, however, that Ellicott’s powerful engineer assistant was a colored man, Ben- jamin Baneker by name. Baneker was an remair raised at Ellicott City, Md. His are in a cemetery there, unmarked and neglec' though he was the first col- ored man 1a wonderful and the exact he had gained engineer was the which ranked as Among others who y it was Thomas Jeffer- ly admitted that the work of neker deserved and commanded his praise. Baneker was sixty years of age when he ran the lines for the city of Wash- ington. He is described as a fine looking specimen of a man, very distinguished in appearance, having a head and suit of white hair not unlike in general appear- ance to the late Frederick Douglass. He wore a drab coat of superfine broadcloth and a Quaker hat, with a broad brim. It is not known exactly how much was paid to Baneker for his services, for engineers in those days did not command the sal- aries of the present times. Ellicott himself cnly received ‘tive dollars per day and ex- penses” for his services, which, the records show, Jefferson thought too much. In the letter to Major L'Enfant relieving him of the work President Jefferson states. ‘Eli- cott is to go on to finish laying off thé plan on the ground and surveying and platting the District. I have remonstrated with him on the ex of five dollars per day and his expen: and he has proposed striking off the latter.” Under these cir- cumstances it is not probable that Baneker Was paid much, notwithstanding the -Value of his services. Ellicott was but a little over half the age of his assistant, Baneker, and he had the greatest confi- @ence in him, depending on him to untie ™many of the engineering difficulties that were constantly met with during the prog- ress of the work. : eee et “Washington is a far different city now from what it was thirty-five years ago,” said Dr. Abraham C. Pettijohn of Brook- field, Mo., to a Star reporter, “for it has always been my proud boast that I was a Washington raised boy." Dr. Pettijohn has been the mayor of his city for several terms. He has also, served several terms cor for mathematic scienc and long before prominence as a civil author of an almanac, Standard authority. Were attracted son, who fre E EARD EEN> in the legislature of Missour!, and was on the republican ticket last fall as the can- oidate for lieutenant governor. He studied medicine and graduated in Chicago, ani has for over twenty years practiced med- icine in Missouri. “When I lived in Wash- ington,” he said, “I resided on 13th street, a few doors below I street northwest, and belonged io a crowd of boys known as the Franklin Square ‘belly beaters.’ What is now Franklin Park was then a field or cow pasture. IT went to school at the corner of 14th and G streets, my teacher being the late Streng John Thomson, and at his death I, like thousands of others, felt, as it was, a personal bereavement. I well re- member his maxim, ‘The root is bitter, but the fruit is sweet.’ After leaving school, i went to work at Gibson Brothers’ print- ing office. I was the first printers’ ‘devil’ employed by that firm when they moved into that building. I called on the remaining members of the firm a few days ago, and though none of them remembered me. they remembered my name and the fact of my employment by them. I have not been out to Rock creek yet, but I Promised my boys, now éntering manhood, that before I left the city I would do so, and T will certainly go out and take a look at Big Rock and Little Rock, which were the great swimming places of my boyhood days, and only regret that the weather now will prevent me taking a swim there, for I have found no such delightful swimming place ever since, though I have roamed very considerably. I have the most pleas- ant recollections of the publfe school exhi- bitions here or commencements, as they now call them, which frequently took place in the big hall at the Smithsonian. Though I suppose I kept in pretty close touch with affairs here, I had no idea of the present grandeour of this city. I am entertained at almost every step I take in the city by the marked change and wonderful improve- ments in the appearance of things. The old public buildings appear much’ better than they did, and the new ones are to me a series of enchantments, the crowning one of them being the new brary. I have however, met but very few of my boyhood companions, and I regret it very much.” * * * “The term ‘The Black Book’ originated with the famous Anne Royal, who, besides being the first American interviewer, pu- lished ‘The Huntress’ and ‘Paul Pry,’ two publications of a peculiar kind and of enjoyable reputation,” said a well-known citizen’ to a Star reporter. “I have often heard my grandfather tell of her and her cperations. Anne Royal was the widow of a revolutionary soldier, and she was depend- cnt on herself for a support. Originally she had the entree to the best society of the capital and she had picked up many things and pieces of gossip about public men. These she entered in what she called “Black “Book.” Every now and then in iting subscriptions for her paper, ‘Paul and her prior publication, ‘The Hunt- she threatened to publish certain 's in her paper from the Black Book unless the subscriptions were forthcoming. She did publish unsavory things now and then, but she never emptied her book. Her main dependence, in a business way, was Sally Brass, a masculine looking woman, who was even more of a terror than Anne Royal herself. ‘The Paul Pry was printed in the house, for many years afterward the resideace of General Dunn, the northern of the three houses that constituted the Old Capitol prison, facing the Capitol, and in the room where John C. Calhoun, a sena- tor from South Carolina, afterward died. It was never known exactly whether Anne Royal had a black Book or not. The prob- abilities are that she had not, and that she enly used it as a threat to extort money from her victims. Paul Pry had no merit in itself and was only dreaded because it a blackmailing sheet. two women, the aid of a-one-legged: Scotch print- er, sei, the type, did the press work and distributed ithe paper to its subscribers. It was not much of a financial success, but during, its existence it supported the trio who ran it. The fear of its Black Book produced more money than was secured in other way SS -A Letter Hard to Read. From the Cleveland Plain Dealer. Not long ago a Cleveland man received a letter from a lawyer. It reached him in the afternoon, and when he glanced it over he found that he coukin't make head or tail to it. It was only a brief little note on a slip of paper, but it held that man’s close attention for an hour or more. “Well, by George,” he said, “this beats me!” It certainly did, for when it was time to go home he was still studying on it. He thrust the puzzler in his pocket and sought the homeward-bound motor. Right after dinner ne took the letter out and went to work on it again. Pretty soon his wife wanted to know what he was doing. “Don’t bother me,” he said, shortly. But she insisted, and finally he showed her the note. She looked it over with many “Dear, dears” and “Well, wells,” and final- ly she looked up and added: “Why don’t you take it over to Mr. Jim- uggist? They say he can So the man of the house put on his hat and overcoat and stepped around the cor- ner, where the red and green lights glared behind the big window “Hello, Jimmerson!' make this out?” And he handed him the lawyer's note. The druggist took it and glanced it over. he cried, “can you | Then he went a little closer to the nearest gas burner and looked at it again. close scrutiny he marched to the rear of the store and disappeared behind a parti- tion. The man who was thirsting for in- formation wondered at this a little, but he somehow connected the druggist’s disap- pearance with a possible desire to use a agnifying glass. Presently the druggist came back again. He had a good-sized vot- tle in his hand. After a inquired the other man. “Why, your tonic,” said the druggist. “Who said anything about a tonic “Why, you handed me the prescription.” “The prescription?” ‘Yes, here it is. What!” roared the other man. “Did you think that was a prescription? It’s a letter from my lawyer!” nd he went out into the night, roaring delight, and thoroughly convinced that the joke was very much on the doc- tors. ———+e+ Not New to Him. Frem Life. The newly arrived soul was paying his first visit to the Cave of the Winds, in the upper realms of space, and his astral body quivered and shook like a pendent ribbon in the maelstrom of sound waves. It was a horrid din. Shrieks, wails, screeches, squeaks and crashes, in major and minor keys, made up the awful discord. ‘ou don’t seem to mind it much,” said his ghostly guide. “No,” sald the tourist shade. “You see, while on earth I became hardened to all sorts of discords. I managed a college glee club for three seasons.” ns Served Him Right. From Harper's Weekly. Bul—“T ‘ear that ole sneak Joe ‘Iggins ‘as bin an’ gone an’ ws Jack—“"As ’e? Serve ‘im right!” > WANTED IT FOR HIS SISTER A jeweler was recently talking to a Star reporter, when the fact happened to be mentioned that nowadays so many Christ- mas presents are obtained from jewelry stcres. “That reminds me of a little incident which occurred last Christmas,” the man of the gems sald. “A young man came into the shop and after looking at a num- ber of different articles asked to be shown some solitaire diamond rings. He blushed as he asked to have them shown to him. I suspected something and let him down as easy as possible, as 1 was waiting on him myself. He hesitated and finally said that the ring was not for himself, but for his ‘sister.’ bes “So I showed him some rings which would be suitable for long, tapering fingers. He selected one, but appeared to be still in doubt. “I am not certain that my sister really cares for a ring,’ he said slowly, ‘so if I find that she does not can I return it and take a scarfpin for myself instead?’ “I told him it would be all right, and he went out, though evidently ill at ease. I knew that he was getting the ring for somebody else beside his sister, and that he was not certain at all whetheror no she weuld take it—in the way he wanted her to do. He hedged on the scarfpin propo- sition, for there was evidently only one girl in the world for him. “It was apparently all right, ‘however, for I saw the same young fellow in the shep two or three months afterward with a girl, and they both seemed as happy as possible. f noticed, too, that she had on her finger a diamond ring identical with that which her companion had wished to exchange for a scarfpin. sae Se A GEOLOGICAL PRISON CELL. An Instance of Nature Coming to the suistanc of the Law. “Speaking of cave: remarked the drum- mer whose territory exterds from New York to everywhere, “I suppose you don’t krow that down yonder in the cave sec- ticn of southewestern Kentucky it isn’t unusual for the towns which are built over caves to use them as sewers, and there’s many a kitchen with its sink lead- ing right down into the depths of the earth. But an even odder use than this to which nature may be put I discovered in the cave country of Virginia. “The little town of Eldraage,with a popu- lation of six or seven hundred, has a large contingent of miners to be handled by the authorities, and when they get ugly they are ugly indeed. Two or three ‘coolers’ for their accommodation when druak and disorderly had been burned or torn down by them, and the town marshal was hard put to know what to do. At last the edi- tor of the local paper suggested that the cave in the mountain not three hundred yards from the city hall would be just the thing for a calabo and the marshal preceeded to investigate. He found that the way then in use to get into it was down a ladder thirty feet through an en- trance six or eight feet in diameter, and that when once in the cave the air was ary and good; there was a stream of fine water, and that, though it w dark, the electric light could be introduced easily from the town -plant hat was his repert, and without say- ing anything much to anybody, beds and beards and a few other pieces of nec furniture were taken down, and on day night when the boys began to whoop it up and were taken in they were care- fully let down into the cav a rope on a portable windlass that had been rigged ever the mouth, and silence the face of the earth. The lights were turned on and it was bright and cheerful; the boys had all the room they wanted they could do as they pleased (down there and the loudest noise they could make couldn't possib be heard on earth. That plan worked with eminent sue until one night there was a fight and a man was hurt, and then the authorities fixed up some cages, or pens, and an officer went down first to receive the visitors and care for them on their arrival. It has been Working that.way ever since and is un- doubtedly the safest prison in the whole country and is the cheapest and most en- during.” ns NEW YORK JUSTICE. A City in Which a Rival is Not Held in Great Esteem. As is generally known, it is a punisha- ble offense in the state of New York for uny person to attempt to take his life, al- though it is not so if the attempt be suc- cessful—which makes self-murder some- what different, legally, from the other kind. As is also very generally known, New York, individually and collectively, is dis- pcsed to forever point the finger of scorn at her large and growing neighbor, Phila- delphia. Not long ago a prisoner was before a New York judge charged with attempted suicide, and the judge, being a man who lived on Easy street, where it was sunny in winter and shady in summer, frowned fiercely on the culprit because he couldn’t understand how any man would want to quit this life until he was forced to do so. “Your honor,” pleaded the culprit, look- ing into the frowning face of justice, “there were mitigating circumstances.’ The judge frowned more fiercely at the thcught of offering an excuse for such a crime, and said ncthing. “But there were, your honor,” insisted the prisoner. “The firm I am working for informed me last Saturday night that I would have to go to Philadelphia to live, as they were compelled to make a change.” The judge’s entire demeanor underwent a rapid transformation. “Great goodness,"’ he exclaimed in a hor- rified tone, ‘the prisoner is acquitted and the clerk will please make out a warrant for the arrest of the firm for assault with intent to kill.” ——— He Twisted the Lion’s Tail, Ficm the Chicago News. The man sitting on a salt barrel had a hand on which only two fingers were left, and sizing hita up for a veteran of the war I asked him if he hadn’t teen wounded by an exploding shell. “No, not us I remembers of,” he replied, as he held up his hand and turned it over and over. “I thought that might have been the case, but you probably got caught in some sort not exactly machinery, sir.” un explode in your hands’ ; ho gun didn’t explode. I gave it up at that, but after a few minutes the man looked up and said: “Stranger, you've seen a lion, I reckon?” “Oh, yes.” “Seen ‘em caged and looking as harmless as cats?” “Yes; they generally look that way.” ‘That’s the way I sized up one in a cage in a circus. He lay there, looking so sleepy and good-natured and harmless that I thought it was a swindle on the public and I'd try to rouse him a bit.” “And so you poked him?” I queried. “No, sir, no poking. I jest calculated to gin his tail about three twists and make him feel that life wasn’t all beef and bones and sunshine. I waited for my chance and then I reached my hand in. How far is it from a lion’s mouth to the midle of his tail?” “Several feet, at least.” f “TI thought it was ebout a rod, but I ki better now. I hadn’t more’n got hold of his tail when he got hold of me and was gulp- in’ down them missin’ fingers. He wanted the hull hand and arm, but they beat him off. I thought at first I wouldn’t explain matters, but then I thought I would. I look a good deal like a fool, don’t I?” “Hardly that.” “Well, you do, and that’s why I explained. I was fool 'nuff to want to twist a lion’s tall, and you may be fool ‘nuff to want to poke one In the eye, and so my advice is— don’t.” Horrible oposition, From the Cincinnati Enquirer, . . Perry Patettic—Mister, would you give me a few pennies for my poor sick father? Mister—“He must be pretty sick if you want to sell him for a few pennies. Hf you heve any good, able-bodied fathers jood day’s work I might Unbearable. From Puck. Woman Lawyer—“How old are you?’ . ‘Woman Witness (trembting)—“Hassy t” THE SCHOLAR IN POLITICS To a friend ho had taken’ up his abode in London with hankering for a literary Lfe, Charles Up said: “Go into business of some sort; i you have but five consolo- tary minutes between your desk and your bed it will be etter for you—nay, even to throw yourself! from the steep Tarpeian rock, slap-dashj headlong upon iron spikes than to rely be ey on literary labor for support.” Lamb. yas extravagant in expression, as usual, buf he knew how-it was himself be- fore he tecame a clerk in the accounting division give London custom house (India house); @nd his experience has doubtless been that of many a weary worker in lit- erature at times, through the vicissitudes of ‘his Profession. And {t accounts largely for the disposition on the part of so many men of letters to seek government positions as “an-anchar cast to windward,” in the absence of an aptitude or taste for other pursuits. Tt was certainly the case with Haw- thorne, who was glad to be appointed “a weigher anda gauger” in the Boston cus- tom fouse for_the purpose of eking out the slendér. incomé derived from literary work whick he had adopted as a profession. He had become tired of rejected manuscripts marked “Not available,” or “Fairly good story of incidents, but not well enough welded together to make it desirable’—he, the master welder of his day! The readers and judges of Nterature of those times were probably not superior to those em- ployed by publishers in our own day and &enefation. They did not always know a good thing when they saw It. “Hawthorne was accustomed to write very pleasantly and humorously of his novel duties as a “tide waiter and excise man’ in the customs service, and fully re- paid the public for his appointment, if only by giving it such delightful reading. On one occasion he wrote to a friend that he had been “weighing coal all day on the deck of a little black British barque down in a dreary, dark dock at the north end of Boston; but ;he could see -Bunker Hill monument in the distance, with a bit of blue sky, and he could sniff the fresh breeze from the ocean, which was a good deal and alone worth the price of ad- mission.’”” Subsequently, wien surveyor of the port of Salem under the Polk adminis- tration, the distinguished author wrote charmingly of his “‘sinecureship.” He was searcely a good civil service reformer. Though by no means an “‘offensive parti- san,” Hawthorne yet believed so strongly in the tenets of the democratic party of that ‘day, and was so pronounced an advo- cate thereof, that he was straightway turned out of his Boston weigher and gaug- ership by the next administration to make room for a good whig. Party feeling ran high in those days, and close neighbors carved each other up on a very moderate difference of opinion. Hawthorne's politi- cal views were broadened and deepened af- terward, as shown through his writings, by his experiences abroad, and in the con- sul generalship at Liverpool, to which he was appointed by his old collegemate and friend at Bowdoin, Franklin Pierce, then President of the United States. Bancroft, ‘the historian, had a taste for official and public life, and though in easy financial circumstances, sought and obtain- ed, under President Van Buren’s adminis- tration, the collectorship of the port of Bos- ton. It was he’ who gave the author of the “Scarlet Letter” his weigher and gaug- er’s place, It was not the custom of that lime for the holders of important offices under the fedéral government to devote as much attchtion'tto the details of party poli- tics as egcupamts of similar positions at present. tignal and state conventions, with an o pal campaign speaking tour, were, as # rulé, the only political functions then atteftdedto by collectors of ports and postmasters of: the first class. Municipal politics were ignored, or were left to the small fry of the party. Bancroft had am- ple leisuré, therefore, to pursue his literary researches and’devote himself to his volu- minous history of the country. He also went out of office with the Van Buren ad- ministration ta make way for his successor under Président William Henry Harrison— “Tippecanbe und Tyler, too,” with their log cabin ahd hard cider campaign. With few exceptions, men of letters hold- ing the higher political positions, have been men, of brgad views, rarely descending to be polfticians only. They have accepted office hecause Of their interest in affairs of state, and not merély as an author some- times acccpts a university scholarship or a professor's chair, ‘for the stipend which keeps them from the vulgar. fear of starv- ing while waiting the fate of his publica- tions. James Russell Lowell, John Lothrop Motley, Reverdy Johnson, Benjamin Frank- lin and others in American history; Disra- eli, Gladstone, Derby, Bulwer, Scott, Thiers, Guizot and hosts of others in Euro- pean politics have occupied this higher plane. ‘These men entering government service at first, possibly as an advantage to them- selves in the way of foreign experiences and remunerative salary, soon proved their value to the state in the deep and jntelll- gent interest which they took in its wel- fare. It was so with Motley, at least, while secretary of legation at St. Peters- burg, minister at The Hague and to Aus- tfia, and with Lowell as minister to Great Britain. From authors and __professfonal litterateurs only they became statesmen and diplomats of such rank that their fel- low-countrymen seem never tired of sound- ing their praises. ‘The “scholar in politics,” as he stands at the present day, is not included in this class of men of letters in public office. The number of university-bred men with schol- arly attainments is on the increase in po- litical life, and forms the hope and the bow of promise for the welfare of this re- public; but it is the man who has adopted the profession of letters as an avocation, or the pronounced author of historical and Philosophical works that serves the pur- pose of this article. Thomas Brackett Reed, Speaker of the House of Representa- tives, who has become prominent as a publicist in the magazines of the country, and Senator Lodge of Massachusetts, auth- or of several biographical sketches, may be regarded as exceptional in this class of litterateurs in politics. Perhaps the most exceptional—well-nigh unique—specimen of literary men in gov- ernment office was Charles Lamb. That erratic author knew the way to India house, whither he had to go every day so early (by noon), but he never could remember where it was located sufficiently to direct any one there. He was generally late in getting to his desk in the morning, and remained no longer than he was obliged in the afternoon for decency’s sake. It is said that most of the Ella essays were written there, and when not engaged on those he was scribbling one of his unsuc- cessful plays. His last play so” written, “Mr. H.,” was loudly hissed on the night of its production at Drury Lane Theater, and Lamb, sitting in the pit with a friend, hissed and hooted as loudly as any one at his own folly, and ever after made a jest of his dramatic attenipts. “You are very late this morning, Mr. Lamb,” said the chief of the accounting department at the India house; “indeed, you are always late, sir.” “Y-yes,", replied the incorrigible Lamb, with his slight tmpediment of speech, “but you mush re-remember that I always g-go away eayly.” That was the, morning, quite likely, when Charles was detained by his old classmate, Coleridgé,, an:;,interminable talker, who, meeting him inthe street, took hold of his coat button, and proceeded to discourse with cloged ores on some transcendental topic till..Lamb slipped out his penknife and, cutang. the button, got away un- perceived, leaving the poet talking to the air. “the _ discipline Describing and _ strict methods of Initia house in one of his let- ters, ib Satd that a new and extremely annoying-irule had been introduced there. This wag;the passing around of a govern- ment seryicé paper for the signatures of the custdms clérks at certain hours of the day to ftiake ‘certain of their attendance at their desks: ‘‘As a result of this rule,” wrote Lamb, ‘four men were interrupted fine remarks with a countenance shining Such was Charles Lamb, who was often. threatened with discharge from his place, but in whose behalf his own excessive good nature and influential friends as often in- terposed. His friends were among the brightest intellects of that brilliant Hterary period, including Southey, Coleridge, ‘Wordsworth, Tom Hood, Leigh Hunt and many others: These were accustomed to assemble at Lamb's rooms at the Inner iii company at chase otc aero tl com] 'y oice presided; stammering witticisms and between humor and HORACE M. JORDAN It Takes ‘the Women to Brom the’ Atchieon (Kan.) Globe. average man doesn’t ethics he ‘has distinguished ancestors until mar- Fina Out. LIKE TO RIDE FOR NOTHIN G! “Did you see that round-faced fellow who Just got off the car?” inquired a Metro- politan railway conductor of a Star re- porter. “Well, he’s the worst dead beat on this line. You have to almost reach in his pockets for a ticket before he will pay you his fare. He may fool some of the men with whom he seldom rides, but most of us know him. He tries all kinds of tricks to keep from giving up a ticket, and I suppose he has ridden free a good many times when the conductors were busy.” “Are there many passengers of this «ind?” “Yes, lots of them, and they are known as respectable and honest men. Probably they wouldn’t steal a penny from a soul, yet they will do all in their power to beat a street car company. How do they work it? Well, they get on when a number of people are getting on. They take their seats and look as unconcerned as a Pas- senger who has been on the car for half a mile. Sometimes they will begin to read a paper or to talk with somebody. When the conductor passes through they never say a word unless he goes directly to them and yells ‘Fare.’ You know a polite conductor hates to yell in a man’s ear, and supposes that every man will promptly hand over his fare without being forced to do so. Of course, they win out sometimes, but as they are generally regular. customers we soon catch on to them, and they are watched as closely as all the other passengers put to- gether. “But I'll tell you something that makes me* tired. Take the run I’m on, for in- stance. It is from the end of East Capitol street to Georgetown and return. At 9th and F streets many transfers are given, and during parts of the day the cars are crowded for a long time after leaving 9th and F. We of course pass through the cars collecting fares, including transfers. Well, many times after we get fifteen or twenty squares passengers get off and as they pass out hand us the uncollected transfers, giving the appearance that we have not done our duty. Nine times out of ten you can just put it down that if these same people had been due fares instead of trans- fers they would never have spoken, but would have passed out of the car with the fare in their pockets. A transfer is not worth a cent after a man has reached his destination, but a ticket is if he can keep from giving it to us.” ~ BUCKEYE AND NUTMEG GRATER. An Incident Indicating the Serious- ness of un Ohio Man. A half dozen college men were in New York one night not a great while ago in- dulging in a dinner at the expense of one whose enthusiasm on iron heroines had somewhat beclouded his judgment. Part of the party consisied of a Connecticut man and an Ohio chap, who, while he is smart enough in most matters, is not blessed with a very quick nor comprehensive wit. And he is particularly slow to see a point when there is a mist of mellow merriment be- fore his eyes, as there was on this occa- sion. Now it happens that the. nutmeg man is as proud of his state as the buck- eye man is of his, and they have friendly tilts-at-arms every now and again over the respective merits of Connecticut and Ohto. At the dinner the two sat together, and when the time arrived for any man to inake a few remarks who wished to do so, the Connecticut man arose with his hand on the shoulder of his neighbor. “Here,” he sang out, full and free, with his glass on high, “is to the nutmeg state— who can produce a grater?” The crowd of diners smiled charitably at the well-worn sentiment and gzg. That is, all of them did except the buckeye, and he jumped to his feet. entlemen,” he shouted, with his glass “f can. Look, sirs, at Ohio. There she nds, the greatest commonwealth that sits enthroned upon—” But he never got his metaphors mixed any further. The crowd yelled him down, and for a week afterward he was trying to choke off unfeeling allusions. sae AT FOOT BALL. MONKEYS They Likewise Play Cricket, but Not According to Rule. From the Brooklyn Times, ‘Travelers in South Africa have noted the fuct that where monkeys congregate in large numbers they also indulge in games of a certain kind. Two of these games seem to resemble cricket and foot ball. ‘The cricket is of a primitive order. About a dozen monkeys stand in a circle, or what- ever is akin to the simian idea of a circle. Two of them advance from different ex- tiemities of the circle and stop about fif- teen yards apart, facing each other. The mcnkey at the southern end of the circle has a cocoanut in his hand. He is the bewler. The monkey at the other erd does not, as you might suppose, wield a full cane bat. His business is to dodge the cecoanut which the bowler aims at his kead. The delivery of the ball is tremendously fast, full pitch- ed and fraught with dire results if it “touches the spet.”” When it does happen to touch the spot—that is, any part of the morikey’s body—that monkey is very much out and doesn’t even stop to dispute the question. Ancther monkey takes his place until he, too, receives bis dismissal. It was presumed by the travelers that the game was finished whea a majority of monkeys lay nursing their wounds under the friend- ly shade of a neighboring palm. The foot ball is of a more advanced type. It is also played with a cocoanut. The game, if anything, is undcubtedly the “socker’’ game, and is played with the feet. Of course there is no goal nor any tactics to speak of, the object of each animal be- ing to keep the ball to himself as much as possible. Still the competition to get the ball makes it resemble a real game of “footer,” and the dexterity exhibited by these peculiar amateurs is surprising and wonderful. In an evil moment some ambitious mon- key may elect to play the Rugby game by snatching up the ball and making off, but the game then develops into war, in which life is sometimes the prize. No mention is made of a referee, but if there is one about, like a wise and provi- dent monkey, he is probably up a tree. ——_+e+____ Fined the Judge. From the Chicago Port. Bob Rose, court stenographer, was down in Texas last summer, and formed the ac- quaintance of State Chairman Blake of the democratic committee. Blake is himself a character, but his father is still better. The old man is now a preacher, but he used to be a lawyer, and nothing pleases him more than to tell of the odd code that obtained when he was “‘at the bar.’’ For one thing, Elder Blake apologized for the unseemly tale he was going to tell, and then told it. “I was on the grand jury that year, and there was little or nothing to do. Texas was as quiet as a sheepfold. So we watch- ed for infractions of both law and custom. It is a well-known rule of law that a man letting down a pair of bars must let down the top bar first. Well, the judge came across my lot that morning, and let down the bottom bar first before he Jed his sad- dle herse across. “So we indicted him. Being the accused, of course he couldn’t sit on his own case, so the boys elected me judge to fill the vacancy, and we let him have counsel. He wouldn’t plead guilty, so we found him guilty, and twelve of ‘the grand jury, sit- ting as a petit jury, fined him a gallon of whisk; ‘isky. * “In Texas, half of the fines go to the county, and as we were the represeniatives of the county in that transaction, we col- lected the fine and turned it into the gen- eral fund—a glassful at a time.” —_—-o2______ BY PHILANDER. JOHNSON» Written for. The Evening Star. The Choice of Terms. ze Ain't ro use o’ me an’ Mandy strugglin’ much fur style; Folks don't seem to notice it; or, if they do, they smile. I got a city doctor when I wasn’t feelin’ well, "Cause Mandy said she hoped the malady was somethin’ swell; He told me fust ‘twas serious; then I thort it right to say Exackly how much money I'd be able fur to pay. Perscription fur a mustard plaster’s all that he would write us. I furgit jes’ what he called it, but it wasn’t “ ’pencicltis.” I've "bout give up all hopes of judgin’ any- thin’ by soun’. e It’s hard here in the country, but it's even worse in town. I know that Mandy @idn’t mean to break the law a bit When she picked up the wrong bundle an’ went walkin’ off with it. But the store-folks wouldn’t listen when we put in 4 denial; They even talked a little "bout indictments an’ a trial. An’ then they says, “We've spotted you. Ef ye come back, we'll chain ye.” I furgit jes’ what they called it, but it wasn’t “kleptomania. An’ our boy Jake, he got the craze. started in most brash To show how fortunes kin be made with spunk an’ not much cash. He waited ‘round fur sharper: fust that came Found Jake prepared to beat him at his thimble-riggin’ game. He grabbed the feller’s wallet, when he'd lost a round or two, A-sayin’, “Stid o' bein’ robbed myself, why, I'll rob you.” The p'leeceman made Jake give it up. He couldn’t git a hearin’. I furgit je: at they called it, but wasa’t “financeerin’.” * He an’ the very it as Foggy Bottom Philology. “Dey’s habbin’ er greddeal o” talk “bout disheve norf pole,” remarked Miss Miami | Brown, in an effort to make conversation at a parlor social, “"Deed dey is, Pinkley. “I wonduns what keeps folks goin’ up dar.” “Oh, gey likes ter keep movelin’ along. Seems Tike folks ain’ pleased ter stay in no one place onless deys bchin’ in de rent; an’ den dey hol’s on like grim de’f.”” “I reckon a good many goes up dar foh de sake o’ de gaime.” “Nope. Dey doe: go froo all dat trab- ble jes’ foh de plaisure o’ goin’ huntin’,” the positive reply. Scuse me, Mistuh Pinkley, replied Mr. Erastus but dey “How kin you tell?” ‘By de news.” “1 ain’ hyuhd o’ nobody goit’ dar huntin’ anyfing ‘ceppin’ trouble an’ ice water.” “Which show dat while you may hab er gret gif’ o’ conversationali when it comes right down ter perusin’ you ain’ so multiplicacious.” Mr. Pinkley looked at her admiringly for 4 moment, and then-exclaimed: “Do it?” “Yas suh. De way I knows dey’s gone huntin’ is case one gemman dat went in a balloon took along a parachute.” “I reckon dat’s sumpin’ what I dunno.” “Deed, ‘tisn’. You doesn’ reco’nize de language—det’s all. Lemme ‘splain to yer. A pair o’ anyfing is two of 'em, ain’t it?” “Sho’ "nuff. ou Knows what a shoot is, docsn’ “Sho.” “Well, puttin’ "em tergevvuh, a para- chute kain’t be nuffin’ else dan a double- bar’led shotgun.” x * Ease With Dignity. Men sang of summer roses with their Ian- guid blandishment And of the pleasures that were on the wing, When messages in perfume "twixt the field and forest went And days from dawn to dusk were loiter- ing. But he is the lucky fellow Who trudged on with tireless feet, Though the woodland note was mel- lew And its charm was passing sweet, Whose time for doing nothing doesn't really begin Till the holly’s in the parlor and the corn is in the bin. Oh, who shall sigh for roses, neath the berries glistening red, Or care for perfume or for rustic song When incense from the kitchen is so gen- erously shed O’er the laughter of a romping childish throng. Haughty summer, keep your flowers, That we cherished long ago; Toil by loving hands builds bowers ‘Tnat are safe from blast and snow. And all in vain 1s sorrow’s flercest effort to come in When the holly’s in the parlor and the corn is in the bin. * ok Family Troubles. that young said Broncc Bob? “Yes,“ said the man from the east. “He doesn’t look so overpowerin, hap- py, does he?” “Certainly not. A man with his arm in a sling and a bandage over one eye hasn’t much reason for looking happy.” “You wouldn't pick him out as a young man who had just had a fortune settlec. on him?” “No.” “Well, he has.” “See feller?” “He has to. His Uncle Obed “that all right.” ‘c.Was it his uncle who settled the prop- him?" oiYen "And if there is anything too good fur the ol’ man this week, it ain't in sight.” “Then tempted to disinherit his nephew.” “He was. He started fur to do it, but, havin’ give his word, he dién't like to «o back on it. He brought the question up before the city council at its meetin’ in Tornado Tim’s saloon, an’ they agreed that he haan’t no right to let a love affair stop him from keepin’ his word. The will had been placed in the custody of the city treasurer fur safe keepin’. He had jocked it up in Tornado Tim's safe, he refused to give it up fur ne pose, unless the city council ord to, which it ceulda’t see its wa doin’.”” “So he is going to leave iis property to his nephew, after all?” ©, sir. Uncle Obed was too swift a jer fur that. He gathered up ail the gold dust he had and, gettin’ th: bers of the city council to ge ne road below the cliff t school teacher, and as s¢ wheelbarrow and @ whole lot ‘o gold dust on his Then, turnin’ to the witness: dump head. says: ‘Could anybody ask to see Settled on anybody any fa said they couldn't, ard the cided thi up his m vheth school teacher. He says he's Ul he gits this whole business straightened out, and tomorrow, in order to have every- thing done formal, we're goin’ over to Yel- low Dog. where there is him to nolle pros the will * lawyer, and git * * A Hope Dissipated. “Come ‘long, 1 Plodding Pete. “Dere ain't no use 0’ waitin’ here no longer watchin’ "em fix up de ‘lectric road. I fust “ting ye knows dey'll be offerin’ work.” “I don’t hafter hear " is companion. ‘0. Bui wot's de use 0’ courtin’ danger?” “I tink we're-cn de trail 0° de soft ting we e . do I?” pl - r struck, You'd let lots of easy ings go past if it wasn’t fur me.” “Sittin? down an’ watchin’ dem hustle is easy—but I've had enough. K. in’ me open so long makes de lids tired.”” “Ye didn’t ‘spcse I were tryin’ ter have ye waste yer time on a formance, did yer?” inquired Mike, scornfully. “De ¢ ess in your chosen we I never ses no walk ame the terruption. “I takes any old road I comes to, lecturer, me nd intelli Ss op bein’ ¢ a ails ter Keep yer ter take note 0° wot's entific world. De result is dat you ain't onter de new curves dat is bein’ developed in every branch of society. You don’t know all de labor-savin’ uses ‘lectricity is bein’ put to. Did you hear jes’ row what de boss said ter dem men?” I did; an’ jes’ watch me. An’ when ye see an expression of calm delight comin’ over me countenance don't disturb me. I'll tell ye de hull bill o’ fare as soon as I git out’n de trance.” “Mike, ye've been readin’ too many labels in de restaurant windows. Yer mind's pitchin’ curves to itself; yer train o° thought has been tryin’ to turn corners too fast.” “Jes’ keep yer eye open,” was the confi- dent response. As he spoke, Mike reached down and grabbed a wire with both hands. He uttered a shriek and began to plunge in an ineffectual effort to let go. A kind- hearted workman turned the electric cur- rent off, and the victim turned upon him indignantly. “Dat’s » good joke!” he exclaimed, sar- castically. “I reckon dat’s one o’ de li liest specimens of innocent glee ye ever worked off on anybody.” “What did you mean by catching hold of that wire? If there had been anything like a full current it would have finished you. Didn't you hear me call to tell you it was dangerous when you stooped down?" “I thought ye was tryin’ te tell me I was Wble to git indigestion,” was the reply. “I s'posed it must be somethin’ fine, the way you was holdin’ on,” said Pete. “You would have had no one but yourself to blame if you had furnished work for an undertaker,” remarked the railway man. “Yes, I would. I don’t attach no blame to you. But ef he’s a friend o’ your’n you might as well give de feller dat told me dis was a ‘feed-wire’ a tip dat I'll be on de ‘Warpat’ as soon as I git dis charge of dy- namite shook out o’ me system.” —_+ His Rights Were Respected. A tall, fierce-looking, red-headed man, with wiry chin whiskers and a gruff voice, was playing billiards with a meek-man- nered little man, who might have been a twin brother to Uriah Heap. The red-head- ed man made a shot. “Here’ jhouted the little man, “that was @ push shot, and they don’t count.” “What's that?” inquired the red-headed man, glaring at his diminutive friend rath- er savagely. “Push shots are barred, I said.” “Barred, hey? Well, who in blazes barred "em?" “Why they are barred in the rules.” The red-headed man thumped his down vigorously on the floor, and witi contemplative expression demahded, made the rules for this game, The little player hesitated. ““I’m not ex- .”” he finally said, “but I think it “Think it was the French, hey? Well, they're foreigners, ain't they?” The little man looked embarrassed. reckon they be.” “Then I want you to distinctly under- stand that I'm an American citizen, a dweller on freedom’s goil aud @ believer in by