Evening Star Newspaper, January 1, 1898, Page 14

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 1, 1898-24 PAGES. The Evening Star, “i have had my first Christmas in Wash ingioa for thirty-five years,” said Col. J. M. Smith to a Star reporter, “though I Shave been in Washington three times since then. Before I moved down into Georgi 1 resided in Washington, and was a clerk in Tre ry Department for many years after I grew into manhood. At the #Clicitation of Howe'l Cobb, who was Se retary of the Treasury under President h: un, I moved to Georgia, where I nce practiced law and owned and operate! a farm and other enterprise: What struck me as most peculiar in Wash- ington rew from what was then is the ertire change from the way Christmas I> celebrated. In my ea.iy days Washing- ton was a purely southern city in its way of doing things. Now it is different, and it is hard for am old timer, for 1 was born ami raised here, to realize the changes. Ir my beyhood days, while, of course, we had fireworks, skyrockets and things in that line on the Fourth of July, Christmas = thi big: fire boys. The “py until the’ racker day of the year for arger boys were never had a single-barrel pist m which they kept up a very lively fir from zbout 5 until 10 o'clock in morning. Every bey who could get 2 had and he found great spe in making all’ the noise he could. It needless to say I heard no firecrackers here on Christmas, and TI have been told by Is that the old styie—nay, the style, if 1 may call it_so—disap- soon after the war. The boys down SUIL shoot firec on bat the custom there en not as as it was. Another thing 1 mi that was € colored people the city on Christmas eve visits among themscives and making thirgs merry by singing Christmas m als. AS far as i could observe, slored people did not seem to be i all in « Christmas way, though I supp they have other ways of celebrati Christmas eve and early on Christm: me rnin xt RE “Judging from what I shave seen since I have been here,” remarked Mr. W. H. Gates of Santa Barbar to a Star | people of Washington eat of grapes. They get the at the same re- the qnantit York gra reporter, a lare New bout i are sold in California— is at is cailed a ten-pound bas- for 1 cents, though several weeks I saw wagon loads of them carted the streets and sold at 10 cents a about basket. I cannot understand why 20 and y and Malaga grapes. To- | kay a grapes are sold in Cali- fornia and bring 1 cent per pound in | The rate charged for fast so is but 1% cents per and to Washington certainly can- ore than a half or three-quarters | way from $12 to $i8 per ton, | * of a cent additional per pound by the car lead. ‘That would them cost, laid down here, not more uh or 342 cents per | pound at the . ‘The difference in price m that figure and that paid by the con- mer therefore goes to the middlemen, wholesale buyers, the jobbers, com- | sion men and the retailers. When the wer gets 1 to 11% cents per thinks he has done very well. im feel bad, however, when he tion of the country or trav- cars to have to pay 25 cents the ame fruit. i the which are grown in Call- ll as cheap as the New on of the country, anspertation and the but there is no good business rea- there should be such a difference * * relation whatever between S charged for a live passenger 1 body,” explained a railroad pa: nt to a Star reporter, “and thi competition in the hauling of the 1 nd tu ex lingly lively in resard to the former, and will likely be more so before the spring months put in an €. A live passenger enters the cur and departs at the end of his jour- hey, and that is the end to him so far as that trip is concerned. It is entirely differ- ent in the case of handling a 1 body. In the first place, there is no railroad that cares for the traffic, fer the reason that they do not like to have coffins carried through the depots, especially if in sight ot | ‘Then, again, there are ma pe who are superstitious in such matters, and if they a coffin put into the ¢ press car frequently take other train, and, in cases where there ar than one road from the place, her road. -In the next piace, the or- keted remains requir linarily four men to handle them in putting on the car same number at iace of arrival There are other ex- penses about the matter, and these have to be calculated : t it frequently ins of one costs more item of transpurtation than a large- ¥ who may accompany it. tation of bodies on roads that run rough several or more st is attended many annoyances, ¢ nd fees in iter of th it frequently wtions seriously count of the np h to be secu assing from * state to another. Some months since \ Sentieman who resides in this city took his wite, who was suffering from consump- ton, to one of the meunts wns of Colorado in the hope tha © there fit her. He bought two round- in less than two months his ud he was surprised when he id not bring her remains back Ucket he purchased for her while the expense of bringing ck was nearly five times that happens that the rem: the in tppeas that these transportation Ttificates nd he co the life body en in the in **¢ tt + nt in the literary wor!d to n the search for one of the *, ordinary butterfly neckties. There time when I wore fs and ties like ma me ny other men idian of life, instead of looks. who have passed 1 had a preity good vly of butterfly ies with me, but some- I misiaid them while in Rome. I through ueany every store in 1 city, but could not find any. 1 ar experience in Berlin and I was told, however, that I would trouble to secure what I wanted Paris, but though [ tried nearly all the arge establishments, I could not find such thing. though there were hundreds of ther styles easily obtainable. Next 1 tried don. though more for the fun of the ing than anything: else, for 1 had some le to order in Paris, and, strange as it xppear, none of the haberdaskers of sdon covld supply them. Until this ex- cuce I did not know that the butterfly distinctly an American idea, and is y known here.”* css *# *& * “In an investigation covering over 3, cases in relation to the hour of death,” said a we himself a student of the qaestien,-‘it has been ascertained that the greatest number die between 5 and 6 o'clock in the morning, when the death rates over"40 per cent @bove the average; the next, during the andlings has to | other large va- | -known physician who has been | | results can be si hour before midnight. when the rule is about 25 per cent in excess. A third hour of excess is from 9 to 10 in the morning, when the rate is about 18 per cent in ex- cess. On the other hand. the death rate between 10 and 3 p.m. is 16 per cent Below the average. the-hour before noon being the most fatal. From 3 o'clock until 7 in the evening the deaths rise to 5 per cent above the average, and then fall from that hour to 11 p.m. From 9% to 11 o'clock at night there is a minimum of 6 per cent be- low the mean average. The least mortality is between 10 a.m. and 3 o'clock in the af- ternoon, and the greatest curing early merning hours, from 3 to 6 o'clock. * % * * “The police have a system in the recov- ery of-stolea articles,” said a lieutenant of police to a Star reporter, “but the system goes all to pieces if those who are the los- ers by the numerous thefts do not take the trouble to report their losses with accurate descriptions of the same. Of course, the chances of recovering any particular thing are against recovery, but, all the same, there are many recoveries, and their num- ber is constantly on the increase. The po- lice business has kept pace with many other lines of business in the way of im- provements, and one officer can now do as much actual pelice duty, by the aid of the patrols, precinct and post telephones, as tkree or four men could do fifteen years ago. It is not surprising, therefore, that the recoveries of stolen goods are con- Stantly on the increase. There is hardly a police station in the city but has always on hand three or four articles of value, cloth- ing and the hike, awaiting an owner. After keeping the same a short time the property is turned into the property clerk. This is the kind of stuff that the property clerk, with others, annually disposes of by public auction. There is no fee or charge of any kind in connection with reporting the loss of property, or for its recovery, and unless it is reported there is no way by which the owner can get it back by police tance. To those who are so busy that they cannot personally report lesses at the precinct po- lice station, which is most satisfactory, or to police headquarters, the whole thing can be done by handing ‘any police officer a written description of the property. the aid of the various systems of telephones he can spread the description throughcut the city and suburbs in less than an hour. It seems to me that it is not fair to hold the police responsible for losses unless the po- lice force has been authoritatively inform- ed as to the losses. It is wonderful what sured through co-operation in this matter, and no one Knows this bet- ter that the police. ee * “Of the F street buildings the Adams building, opposite the Ebbitt House, has the most interesting history,” remarked a lecal historian to a Star reporter, “for in that building the most famous social event in the early history of Washington took plac Thou: the building has been mod- ized, there has been no change in the zhi of the ceilings, and it can be easily seen what a magnificent house it must Lave been in its day for the social and political therings which were so frequent- ly heid there. The Adams building was tor many years the residence of John Quincy is, When he was Secretary of State in Monroe cabinet. What is known as s. Adams’ ball took place in that § on the evening of January 8, 1824. in commemoration of the victory of General Jackson at New Orleans, and I doubt if there ever was a social function held in this city or, indeed, this country, hich crext-1 more of @ scciul and political sensation. It was the talk of the entire country, and it was thought that it paved the way. to the nomination of Mr. Adams to the presidency. There was no illumina- ticn possible in that day, except from the le oil lamp and tallow, wax or sperm nile, but what was lacking on the inside was made uv by a series of boh fires out- s‘de, which extended all the way from 13th to 15th streot. From this building, which the Adams family occupied eight years, or during two administrat they mo to the Executive Mansia From descrip- tiens of the toilets worn by the ladies at Mrs. Adams’ ball it appears that in the tull dress of the ladies of that period the i waists ended just under the arms, nd its depth, front and back, was not over three or four Inches. Th skirts were nar- row and plain and terminated by a flounce t resting on the floor. Slippers and silk s the lor of the dress were worn and tied with ribbons over the in- step. The nair was combed high and - ened with a tortoise shell comb, the mar- r.ed ladies wearing ostrich f hers and turbans. The beaus of the ball wore blue coats, with gilt butions, and white or buff Waistcoats, white neckties and high chokers, silk stockings and puraps.”” * e * jon of this elty has re- tockin Mr. John Joy Ed | ceived an interesting letter from a well- known Washingtonian traveling abroad, in the course of which he writes as follows: Ss you made the maiden trip on the er Wilhelm der Grosse when that great steamer broke the western record, it may st you to hear from one who was a ger on the same ship when it broke the eastern record in a manner that cannot be outdone for some months to come. In passing from Sandy Hook to the Lizard it tcok just five days and seventeen hours, which breaks all previous records by about twenty-four hours. The average was 4 krots an hour, the average daily run 513 miles and tne best day's run 528 miles. Luring the entire passage not a fog bank Was encountered. ‘Lhe weather was fair until we reached the Irish coast. Un Mon- day morning early, just as we approached th 1, a tremendous sea arose, and a carryi.g several thousand tons rushed over the entire ship. But the splendid vessel met the shock so nobly that none of the passengers knew that any- thing of a serious nature had happened un- til after breaktast, when the officers told y of the savage storm. One of the t events of the journey was the tation to Commander Englehart of a set of resolutions passed at a meeting composed of the passengers who sailed with him when he made his maiden trip on the Kaiser Wiihelm der Grosse, and as you were president of that meeting, it may interest you and others to hear the details of the affair, which took place Sunday evening during the last and ‘gala dinner’ on board ship. As the dessert was being served, James T. DuBois, United States cousul general to Switzeriand, was escorted vy J. Maury Dove of Washington to the head of the table occupled by Commander Engelhart. After a few timely words by Mr. Dove, Mr. DuBois presented the resolu- ons in substance as follows: ‘Commander Engelhart, | have the honor and very great pleasure of presenting to you a set of reso- lutions wh.ch were passed unanimously by the passengers who saiied with you when you made the maiden voyage upon this Qveenly ship, which broke all ocean records and is now recognized by all the world as the “imperial grayhound of all the seas.” In presenting to you these resolutions, I feel that the passengers who sailed with you then and the passengers who are sail- ing w:th you now will heartily approve of my words when I say that you, and the | memory of this majestic ship and the mem- ory of this swift and magic voyage will live in our hearts forever and pay no rent.’ TLese words brought the three hundred pessengers to ther feet, who cheered lustily for the good commander and his wenderful ship. A short_.and eloquent speech was then made by Dr. Bond Stow of Colorado, after which Col. Wheelan, United States military attache at The Hague, and Mr. C. A. Auffen Ordt of New ¥ork city presented the commander with a set of resolutions of thanks, signed by all the passengers. Altogether it was one of the pleasantest and certainly the Swiftest voyages ever made.’ oe A New Year Celebration. From Life. TURKEY WAS VERY TOUGH Every day for the past half decade an old, gray-haired negro has passed through the grounds of the National Museum on the way to the northwest, where he makes a living by doing easy tasks for his old mistress. The workshop of the taxidem- ists has ever been a place of great inter- est to the old man, and he never passes their door without a cheery morning greet- ing or a visit of uncertain duration, The scientists, too, have grown fond of their dusky friend, and ‘‘Mose” is the first one for whom they inquire when returning from the long journeys and the last per- son for whom a good-natured message is left as they leave. But the scientists cannot resist an oce: sional joke at the expense of the old man. Mose happened into their workshop the day before Christmas, just after one of the scientists had been skinning a large bald eagle. As the old negro wandered aimless- ly about the room, airing his unfailing wealth of interrogatives, one of the taxi- dermists called to him. “Mose, would you Mke to-have a nice goose for your Christmas dinner?” * = ly I would. I's ‘bliged to you a tousand times if you gtbsme-de goose,” exclaimed Mose, enthusiastically. When he left the shop the lifeless body of the eagle protruded conspicuously from the newspaper bundle under his arm, the old man still expressing his gratitude volu- bly as long as he remained in sight. - Monday Mose again wandered into the shop. “How did you like that goose, Mose?” asked the chief. “Dat goose,” said Mose, ruefully, “was just de toughes’ goose eber I see. Golly, he must hab been de fader t’all de gan- ders. I biled dat goose, and I parbiled ‘im, den I biled ‘im ‘gen, but shu’s you behn dat ar wuz de chewines behrd me an’ de ole woomun eber seed.” “Oh, you didn’t cook it right,” said the chief, with a smile at the others. “Come in tomorrow and we will give you another.” The next day, when Mose came hobbling in, a large snowy owl lay on the bench, with its skin drawn over its head. “There is your goose, Mose,” said the chief, in as nonchalant @ manner as pos- sible. The old negro looked suspiciously from the scientists to the bird, scratching his woolly head mefitatively. .,_ ‘See here, bo: he said finally, “ef tain't no trouble I's like t’see de fect on dat goose afore I carries ‘im to de ole > THE BOY'S CHOICE. A Mountain Comparison, Which In- cludes a Representative in Congress. “One day during last October,” said a representative from one of the southern “I had occasion to get out into the mountains from one of the interior county seats where I had some law busine: My mission was to secure a deposition from the wife of a mountain farmer, and when the work was done I was asked to remain to dinner. It was not entirely to my lik- ing, for I knew what that kind of a dinner meant, but I could not decline the invita- tion. It was a very homely affair, indeed, cornbread and bacon being the leading viands. At my right sat a boy of fifteen, who was rather a foxy youngster, though he had never been beyond the limits of the county. He was quite inquisitive after he de a start and during the course of juiries became personal. “I reckon you're u er b here in the mountains?’ he toward the spread before us “Oh, I don't know,’ I parried. ‘It is different in the city.” “‘t reckon you have white bread all the time, don’t you? “Oh, yes.” No cornbread a-tall?” “Only when I want it.’ “At first there was incredulity tn his eyes, then it faded and there came admiration and longing. 5 “‘Genmently gosh,’ he exclaimed in a rapture, ‘I'd ruther be a Congressman than go ter heaven. I shore would. “And he was so seriously in earnest that I didn’t dare to laugh.” tr’n you git with a nod PENSIONERS’ COMPLAINTS, Some of the Queer Letters Received by the Bureau, A good many queer letters are received at the pension office, nearly all of which are tucked away in the files which contain papers relating to a million cases. Some time ago a widow who had worked hard to get a pension became possessed of the idea that the postmistress of her town her enemy. Here is the letter she wrote the commissioner of pensions: “I wan tel ye how old sojers widows are treted by our Redheded postmistris she are @nly fourth class anyhow, and keeps a stoar redenge all the postal cards & le ters too, wich we cant not get our papers tel she have the same red herself. She re- poarts to Com. Pensions that my husben died of devilment wich are a lie he die of the army an he war more piouser then our Redheded postmistris.” A Kansas man writes the pension office the following: by the newspapers that you say you are going to try to get Congress to put @ stop to the present opportunities which the law offers to women to secure pensions for life from the United States by marrying an old soldier, What the devil do -you mean, sir? Do you want to lose your scalp? Of cours ed. We were assured last fall that in case of McKinley's ministration would be friendly to the old vets, and now you pro- posi rive many of us of our only chance of ‘helping to perpetuate a race of herves’ and the pleasure of eventually be- ing petted to death by a nice young woman. Do you think the people will tolerate such an outrage? “But, my dear sir, if you must recom- mend such a law, can't you make an ex- ception of old bachelors—that's a good boy. ‘fwo of my near neighbors and myself se’ tled here in the wilderness at the close of the war and when the country became se tled ten years later we had ‘lost our gri 1 am fifty-five years old, and the other fel- lows are past fifty. “And now, oh! comrade! do not, I pray thee, attempt to deprive us of our only hope of ever securing the consolation so necessary to gladden our declining years. For of course you know there is nothing about old fellows like ourselves to induce young women to marry us if they cannot get a pension.” See A Rural Editor in Town. From the Aurora (Mo.) News. We have returned from our Kansas City trip and was never “touched.” Two years a go a fellow touched us for about $10 wile in that bloomin’ town, but we sup- pose he was not aware of the fact of our presence in the city yesterday. However, our money was distributed as equally as possible about our clothes this time, hav- ing secreted 15 cents in one vest pockot and 10 cents in another, while a quarter in silver was hid away in the recesses of one pants pocket and in the other was half a dozen six-penny nails, which we would stir up every time a suspicious-look- ing character brushed up against us in order to attract his attention from the real hiding place of our wealth. And while in the business part of the city wo walked in the middle of the street, al- though it kept us dodging the street cars. ——_-oo—_____ Hanging a Bull. From the Cornhill Magazine. About the year 1313 a bull belonging to a farmer of Molsy killed a man, whereupon Charles Count of Valois ordered its arrest and trial, which took place accordingly, and the animal was condemned to be hanged. But the order of the Hospitallers claimed jurisdiction over the village, and appealed to the parliament against the judgment. The latter confirmed the verdict, but de- clared at the same time that the Count of Valois had no jurisdiction over the terri- tory of Moisy. The bull was hanged in due course. The council of Worms de- creed that, in a case where a child was stung to death by bees, the whole hive and its contents must be burned. ——+2-____ It rains on an average 208 days in the year in Ireland, about 150 in England; at Kezan about ninety days and in Siberia orly sixty days. -- ‘The longest stretch of straight railroad line In America is on the Lake Shore rail- way. beginning at a point three miles west ef Toledo, Ohio, ard running sixty-nine miles without a curve, UP IN A WILD BALLOON — “Bince I came to Washington, a couple of weeks ago, I hav@ had not less than a dozen invitations by friends to accompany them to the of the’ Washington monu- ment, but each Nas been declined with thanks,” said J. ‘M, Underwood of Califor- nia to a Star reporter at the National. “There isn’t mongy enough in ‘the world to tempt me to goffo the top of the monu- ment. I recall with @ shudder one time in my life when I gent up high enough to more than satisfy #e, and I made a solemn vow then that if I ved to get back to terra firma I would 3; the rest of my life as near td the egrth @§ possible. “How was it? Well, I don’t mind telling you, if I do not ss you. During the war the government employed Prof. Low, an aeronaut, te malew ascensions in the inter- est of the Unton iy. It was practicable, inasmuch as the #iovements of the enemy could be eagily® watched. At Yorktown, Va., one day, Gen. FitzJohn Porter, who Was then in command, made an ascension with Prof. Low, and I accompanied him. “Usually two soldiers were detailed to ac- company the professor. On this occasion only one was nece: The two men who had been previoust: led began to quib- ble among themselves as to who should go, and ‘the captatn.-of ‘our company’ finally gave the order that neither should go. “‘What’s the matter with your going, Underwood?’ the captain yelled to me. “I didn’t stop to think what I was getting into, and assented at once. The ba oon was controlled by ropes attached to wind- lasses on the ground. Two soldiers were usually stationed at these windlasses, and they pulled the balloon back to earth upon # signal from thie professor. On this occa- sion, the men at- the windlasses let us up several hundred feet, and, as the professor was about to survey the enemy with his glass, something gave way down below and we began soaring away into space. “Higher and higher we went, the wind- lasses dangling at the end of the ropes in the air. Prof. Low took in the situation coolly and seemed apparently.at home the higher we got. x “We will go up until we get into anether current of air,’ he said to Gen. Porter and me, as he caught hold of a valve. “*Don’t be alarmed, as we shall get back all right. But I caution you not to look downward.’ “If he hadn't admonished us not to I presume that I wouldn't have thought of it. At the time, I was standing up in the ba: ket, with my gun in one hand. With th other hand I had a firm grasp on one of the ropes that held the basket. My Yankee curiosity asserted itself and I looked down. God forbid that I may ever again have such feelings. I can’t describe them. I only know that I fairly swooned and sank to the bottom of the basket. My gun went overboard. “Such agony of mind I had never experi- enced before. I have never experienced such feclings since, and I am confident that I shall never place myself in condi- tion to experience anything like them in the future. “Well, we went up into another current of air, which, with the professor's control of the balloon, enabled us to drift back toward where we went up. Gen. Porter was as cool as a cucumber, though I re- call that he expressed himself as feeling more secure when. we returned to terra firma. The balloon, after the windlass became disengaged, had floated over tu enemy and towai Richmond. “That expeffencé away from earth enough for mg- ‘Net much do I care to visit the top of thg;moyument. I never look at it without a shudder.” eg bose 3 THE RIGHT KIND OF A HOME. A Man of Weallit Given Some New and Interesting’ Domestic Data. . “I saw sométhing in the newspapers the fortable-looking man, “about George Van- derbilt giving’ up that great house of his down there at ASheville, and I wonder that he has Worried with it as long as he has, not to menticn the tremendous amount of money he ‘has spent on it. Now, I am not so rich as Mr. Vanderbilt, but I have something for a rainy day, and I have more fur that purpose by not spending it all on a palace. I presume I might have put as much as $250,000 into a home for myself and family, but instead of doing that, I bought a tract of land finely locat- ed in New York state, for which I gave $10,000. There was quite a lake on it and some pretty sbarp hills, which made it cheap land, and f got plenty for my money. but it was what I wanted. It was con: veniently located within three hours of the city and was not far from two or threc gocd country towns and a mile from the railroad, “Here I built what you might call a mer hotel. It was a house of frame, ing, furnished in a plain, substantial way, $25,000, and had forty rooms in it, includ- ing office, ball room and the usual simili- of summer hotels in ail of their ap- sum- pst. intme with electric light, water, sewera: On the lake I put a small launch and a dot of small boats; I built and equipped a, stable accommodating a dozen horses and vehicle and I added bowling alley, tennis court, golf links and all that sort. Then I secured a good small hotel manager and a force of servants sufficient. to run my hotel in a pleasant and comfortable way, without any frills and my family and I moved in. “My wife lived exactly as if she were in a hotel, except that the manager conferred with her when she wished any changes, and she took none of the worry of hous keeping upon herself. My sons and daugh- ters had their apartments as in any other hotel, and I made no exactions except that the entire family should dine together every day when we were all at home. Of course we entertained and still entertain our friends, but there isn’t any worry about them. We all live together as in one hotel, and everything we have is for them as much as for us, and the manager in charge of us all. “It is the ideal way of living, and on an outlay of $50,000 for the place and an ex- pense of less than $10,000 a year, we live better and have ten times as much guod out of life as most of our rich contempo- raries get out of $100,000 a year or more. I may add that in winter the force is cut down, and we live in town, but the house is always ready for any of us who may want to go there.” —_—>— LION TAMER’S AMBITION. A Frenchman Escapes Being Eaten and Wants to Be a Deputy. Londen Standard’s Paris Telegram, The lion tamer Letort was last night nearly killed in the presence of the numer- ous spectators who alwas fill M. Pezon’s menagerie, It was the last performance at the fair, held at the Place de I'Italie. The lion tamer, who was seriously mauled, has nevertheless ‘heen'hble to give a description of what oce{fred, “He said he had almost finished puttiqg.hfy lions through their ex- ercises, when, h@c noticed one of them, named Mendélek, ‘crouching on the ground refusing to 6hey‘him. Knowing he was a dangerous apimal,,Letcrt struck him vio- lently with. kgs whip. Roaring ferociously, the lion sprang atjhim, tore his chest with his claws ans seiged his left arm between his formidatie teeth. The earaged animal still maulingandishaking him, pushed him backward tosthe Surther end of the cage. ‘The horror-strickwm audience had by this time for the gost part fled, but the serv- ants of the menagerie now came with pitch- forks, iron bars, ete. Letort added: “I felt I was jost, especially as I saw the servants: ie with pitchforks, etc. I shouted to themhot to touch the lion, be- cause 1 feared thag their blows would only excite Menelek aj} the more against me. My only hope was to free myself from him alone. I succeeded at last in seizing the lion by the throat, and sought to drag him to the other extremity of the cage, where my long steel fork was lying onthe ground. If I had slipped or fallen it would have been all over for me. I do not even know now how I at length got the steel fork into my hand, but I. and thrust it half down Menelek's: throat. Iwas saved, and could leave the cage, for the lion had sunk back vanquished.” 4... M. Adrien Pezop,. being seriousiy ill, Le- tort ia the only man who dares to enter the lion's cage. In. tion with this acci- dent it is Interesting to note that M. Adrien Pezon is not content with the notoriety he enjoys as Hon tamer. and ‘owner of « large menagerie; he is. ambitious of becoming a ruler of men, and has decided to become a candidate at the general election. GBR aOR ELS In Japan every* child is taught to write with beth hands" THE CLOCK WAS IN ERROR is a clock face on the Pennsylvania aventie side of the National Hotel, the pointers of which have for years denoted the time at 9:33. Guests of the St. James, who have front rooms, not infrequently de- pend upon this superannuated timepiece to guide their movements, sometimes to their great discomfiture. Not a few appoint- ments have been declared. off because of that clock. There came near being bloodshed at the St. James a few mornings ago. One of the guests, whose appearance denoted that he had dressed himself in the space of a min- ute, came thundering down stairs, not wait- ing for the elevator, and rushed over to the counter, back of which was the clerk, who was trying to snatch an hour's sleep in the early morning, “I'd like to know why in the mischief I Was not awakened at 8 o'clock,” he de- manded. The clerk attempted to reply, but the guest was too mad to listen to anything that might suggest an apology. “This is a pretty hotel,” he continued. “I have stopped here for years, but I will never come here again. Make out my bill now.”” “Don't be In a hu—” “I will be in a hurry. You exasptrate me. Tell me not to hurry. And here it is nearly 9 o'clock, and I should have been awakened at 8.” The clerk tried to get in a word, but it Was useless, “Get out your register. and see if I did not leave an order for 8,” the guest per- sisted. The register was brought forth, and, sure enough, there was the order for a call at 8. “There, what did I tell you? Now see what you have done for me. I have miss- ed my train and probably a big order. I have a good notion to sue the proprietor.” The clerk's ire began to rise. = “What train did you wish to make?” he asked in a sarcastic tone. “The 8:35." “Well, you go back to bed, and I will see that you are called in plenty of time.” “Come, no joking. What do you mean?” “Just what I wanted to tell you some time ago. It is now a quarter of 7.” A madder man than this guest was never seen in the St. James. And when he was told that the National clock was not run- ning, and had not been for years, his anger knew no bounds. He apologized to the clerk, and went away swearing vengeance on that clock. nas oe SS An Unexpected Denouement. From the Detroit Free Press. It was a strange-looking little old man who sat at a table alone, sipping his hot Scotch. His thoughts must have been pleasant, for he smiled at them and paid littie heed to what transpired about him. ‘m writing a play,” laughed an athletic young fellow at the next table. Don’t do it,” sharply interposed the ven- erable gentleman who was taking steam nd liquid from the same glass; “I was once a playwright myself. Don’t do Take a warning from my experience. I wrote a play that delighted my friends. It was instinct with dramatic fire and my fortune in sight. Just as 1 was about to deliver my manuscript to the publisher, it was stolen. For months I did nothing but lament and curse my luck, One night I went to a leading theater, gloomily con- sidering the irony of fate, for there was a new play to be presented. Not a aozen lines had been read until I recognized my own. It was maddening when the persist- ent shouts of ‘author’ rang through tho theater. I hastened to the stage, bent on claiming the paternity of my own. When the ostensible writer of the drama appeared on the stage, bowing and scraping, I was beside him, doing the same. ‘A work of collaboration,’ shouted some one from thé audience. We looked at each Other and instictively joined hands. He felt guilty and I felt dependent. “Not so bad,” laughed the athletic young an. “You shared in the bonanza?” ‘0,’ sighed the old man as he drained his hot Scote! while we were figuring on mi the division of the spoils the genuine and original author forced his way to the stage.” ee A Novel Tariff for Dancing. rom Tid Bits. At a beautiful villa near Paris was lately given a charming fete. Pretty women b; scores were present, and the loveliest among the party was Madame 1 , al- ways eminently “the fashion.” At the commencement of the ball young gallant, the flower of the clu ened to be the first to ask her to dance. sir,” replied she; a replied the puzzled “I said twenty franc monsieur, “I beg your pardon, madame,” replied he, smiling, “there is a misunderstanding. I had the honor to ask your hand for a waltz.” “Ah, you are right,” replied the lady, quickly, ‘‘there was a misunderstanding. I thought you asked me for a quadrille, but since it is a waltz it will be forty franes.”” More puzzled than ever, the ited an explanation, which she with a gracious smile. “Do you understand, sir, that I am danc- ing for the benefit of the poor? It is one louis for a quadrille, two for a waltz and no reduction in price. At this rate Madame T. had no lack of partners, and bravely and charitably danced to the close of the ball. Who but a Frenchwoman would have dreamed o1 such a souree of revenu: es Two Peculiar Things. From the Chicago Tribune. At a New England society dinner some years ago Mark Twain had just finished a piquant address when Mr. Evarts arose, shoved both of his hands down into his trousers pockets, as was his habit, and laughingly remarked: “Doesn't it strike this company as a little unusual that a professional humorist should be funny?” Mark Twain waited until the laughter ex- cited by his sally had subsided, and then drawled out: “Doesn't it strike this com- pany as a little unusual that a lawyer should have his hands in his own pock- ets?” ntleman ve him, o+—_____ “Solomon in All His Glory. From the Pittsburg News. ‘We have recently read a description of a donation party given to a good country clergyman, in part payment of his small salary, the principal result being twenty- seven bushels of beans and a large variety of second-hand clothing for his five chil- dren. The patience of the clergyman’s wife gave out. On the next Sunday she dressed all her five children in the donated second- hand clothing, and under her direction they marched up the aisle just as the good pas- tor was reading that beautiful passage, “Yet Solomon in all his glory was not ar- rayed like one of these.” We need not add that the next donation party was of an en- tirely different character. - —+e+—_____ A Good Excanse. From Figaro. “Bridget, how did it happen that when we came in last night after the theater there was a policeman in the kitchen?” * JOHNSON? And never a thought gives he To the melody in its changeful flew, * Detected a Similarity. “Well,” remarked the man. who ix always Written for The Evening Star. my personal vanity, and I am about satis- The Win fied to stick to the nin nth and tweue tueth centuries and the newspapers. The wird sings high and the wind sings * low * | But the whole world pauses his mood to know Ang his voice is strong and free. The lover hears in his note a sigh And the soldier a battle call; ‘Tis a dirge to the mourner with misty eyc, While the roysterer joins in its revel cry, For the wind has songs for all. Oh, dainty joiner of well-piped lays, Though you toil from sun to sun, Men will not Listen nor feel nor praise, Till your heart is free and has found the phrase Of the wind that sings for none, * * + Beyond Belief. The lady in the ralway car would have claimed undisputed tecognition as the most overdressed person in any of the counties through which the train passed had it not been for her son. He was one of the weary-faced, scrupulously clad little peo- ple who afford support to the theory that peverty may be a comparative b.essing tw the very young. He did not look as if a genuine good time would fit him. The am- bition to dril! him into unflagging self- ecnsciousness had met with obvious and pathetic success. He sat with his neck stretched out to keep from wrinkling his lace collar, The novel which his mother read was one of the most recent and pon- derovs. The title, yn large gilt letters, was turned toward the aisle as she held it be- fore her, turning the pages with sugpicious infrequency. A mist had gathered on the pane, so that the boy could not look out of full of adventure in his couyersation, but who never leaves home m going.” neigh- “Where?” inquired his next door bor. assume now if you like. But the time'll come when you'll wish that my efforts to fire ou with enthus m amd ude you to come along had st - ‘Maybe I wilt.” “The trouble is thit you haven't taken pains to look inte the thing You have gotten so completely into a rut that you are afraid to step*out and do something that will require you to face a change of conditions.” “How do you know it will be any change of conditions? “Haven't you read the reports? Haven't you seen the accounts from responsible people of the strange and picturesqu Scenes and adventures and the vicissitudes of fortune te with there?” Possibly y e right in looking at the t that . But I have read ever thing about Alaska I could get hold of. As far as 1 an make it all out, some people ere having enough to and some are going hungry; some are working for what they get and others are trying to obtain It Ul kinds of skin games; some are going to stick it out where th d others are going to move along if th can’t tind some y that more omfortable. Some are getting rich fast others are going and saying nothing about failure, and some are laying down nd giving up comp! y Maybe it's all ifferent up there, as you Say, but to me tt scunds a great deal like the same ol story.”” the window. Instinct was more powerful than culture, and before he thought he had teken his gloved finger and rubbed a round spot through which he could look with one eye. His mother fairly gasped with indig- nation. Henri!” she exclaimed. “Yes, ma'am.” “You bad child! things? He made no reply, but penitently turned his back upon the mental luxury with which he had hoped to provide himself. | But his mother evidently prided herself achievements as a domestic dis an. In a leud voice she continued: Now, you sit there perfectly quiet, and remember what I tell you. If you do any- thing like that again—" As she p: ‘d to consider her threat the child gazed into her face with tense appre- hension. I'll open that window and toss you out and let the car run over you, so that all the wheels will cut you up in little bits of DOC = Pitis eyes grew big with dread, and in tones of mingled incredulity and dismay he exclaimed: “Mamma! In my new brown suit?’ x How can you do such x x A Career. He's a man of education And he views his prgsent station With disdain; He recites blank verse most purely, But he lingers all obscurel: And a cheap coach takes, demurely, In a train. “It fills my soul with grief to note,” he murmurs with a sigh, “The things the public will approve hys- terically. Ah, fame is but a trifle that floats gaudily | on high; A bubble; something puffed up atmos- pherically.” Once I had things coming my way, But a youngster with a sly way More alert, A comedian quite humble, Learned to do a funny stumble And extravagantly tumble 7 1}.eut hurt. In silent disappointment now I p'od my weary way And old admirers look upon me quizz! cuily. I feli down metaphorically, that is plain as day, And all because I couldn't Jo It physi- cally. we ** Introspection. “You ought to read more, Mr. Wishine- ton,” remarked Miss Cayenne, “You real- ly ought. You don’t keep posted on cur- rent fiction.” “I suppose I ought,” ~ replied Willie, hum- bly. “But the trou- ble is that I get tc thinking about what I read—” “Which is very stupid of you. “But I can’t help It's discourag- ing.” “But you are supposed to find noble “Sure mum, Oi don’t know; but Oi think | examples in literature which will develope the theater didn’t last as long as usual.” ——_ + e-+____ i A Soliloquy. From Life. “To have any success fn fashionable so-, clety I must be more up-to-date.” ~: » ii have your sense of the ideal and—and so forth.” “I know it. I used to read romantic nov- els in that spirit. I used to love to think of how the knight would dash valiantly into the arena ard do battle and how he would be the central figure in the pageant- ry and win the love of a lady fair. I kept constantly imagining myself in his place and thinking of the loftiness of language and brilliancy of equipage which would have been mine if I had lived in that era, I never read one of those novels without fecling that I was by nature fitted to be Sir Reginald or Hugh Montfort, as the case might be.’ “Of course. It is a part of the author’s art to cause one to sympathize closely with the hero or heroine.” “In the course of time I began to no- tice im the illustration that these gentle- men wore clothes and ate just like anybody else. And it occurred to me that there From Tit Bits. Ten thousand guineas paid by the Parl of Dudley for an antique vase and ewer of early Sevres china was the largest sum ever paid for a vase. It was afterward sold to Baron Schroder for 8,000 guineas. Five thousand guincas was paid at the sale of the Lynes-Stephens collection, In 1805, for an ovif vase of old Sevres porcelain, painted with horsemen and figures, after Wouvermans, and a trophy of arms in two medallions with fluted neck and handles formed as gilt figures of boys, by Dodin and Morin, 15% inches high; qhe price in- cluded a pair of oviform, flat-shaped vases of comparatively small value, apart from the one above described, the three being one set, which formed part of the Earl of Pembroke's collection. In Mr. Jones’ col- lection of pottery and porcelain, at the South Kensington museum, there is an egg-shaped Gros Bleu Sevres vase with m dallions vf Capid and Psyche, which was acquired for 3,000 guineas. The Barberini or Portland now pre in the gold chamber of the British mu- sSeum, was purchased by Sir W. Hamilton for £1,000, and afterward sold to the Du ess of Portland for 8.800) An va Was recently put under the hammer Christie's. It was one of a pair ented to the Marquis of Montcalm che cefender of Quebec) y puis XV. Th last bid for this splendid work of art was £1,995. O f the t vases in t rid was a present from the late czar to » city ef Paris. It is made from an im- nse block of jasper, is 8 feet high and alued at £1,500. he historical — see ‘ A Kentucky Procession, m the Louisville Post. “There came into a little town down on the western Kentucky border one day re- cently one of the lest looking proces- sions 1 shed my sid sore J said Dr. Hiram French last night. “It was a man meunte on a mul and to the miule’s caudal appendage the rider had tied 4 rope, the other end of which was around the neck of a cow. Tied around the cow's tail was another rope, and the other of it around the neck of a calf and a thi rope led a razor-back hog. The porke too, had to do service as a leader, for it pulled along a brindle cur. The man was an eccentric old bachelor farmer, clad ta biue jeans, who lived on the Tenne: ri have no men on his , he does all of his work himself. He wanted to sell w, calf and hog, and had promised to give.a friend the old’ coon dog, which brought up the rear, and as none of the enimals could be driven, the rural genius had hit upon @e novel pian of leading them all. The sextet of curiosities had made the trip, over twenty miles, with out accident. nd a Why is it that ‘When a man accomplishes anything it al- ways looks