Evening Star Newspaper, January 8, 1898, Page 14

Written for The Evening Star. “There are a number of things laid out in the plan of Washington by Maj. Peter Charles L’Enfant,” remarked a prominent church dignitary to a Star reporter, “that seem to have been entirely forgotten. Some of them, it seems to me, should be revived, among them what L'Enfant styled a na- tional church. His idea, in his own words, | was: ‘A church intended for national pur- poses, such as public prayers, thanksgiv- ings, funeral orations, &c., and assigned to the special use of no particular sect or de- nemination. but equally open to all. It will likewise he a proper shelter for such monw- ments as were voted by the late Continental Congress for those heroes who fell in the cause of liberty, and for such others as may hereafter he decreed by the voice of a grateful nation.’ This was in the plan which was adopted by Congress, and is as much « part of it, or at least was intenJed to be, as the building of the federal house, the Capitol, or the other parts of the plan, the streets. avenues, and the like. Why it has heen that the church people allowed this part of the plan to lay dormant so long is more than I can understand.” ets, “The peculiar effe some times, t of cigar smoking at and under some circumstances, known as ‘cigar poisoning,’"’ said a lead- ing cigar dealer to a Star reporter, “is lit- tle understood by the trade or makers themselves. Regular smokers are now and then affected by it. Sometimes smokers consume an entire box of cigars, and often @ number of them, without experiencing any trouble with a cigar, when all ai once they smoke a cigar which completely knocks them out in a way that they do not get over it for several days. Physicians think it is on account of the physical con dition of the smoker at the time and that the trou es not occur from any par- ticular cigar, and that any cigar would produ - same t. It Is rather a serious thi n the cigar business, for it is | » make the tomer let that | cigars severely alone. The . who for s hocel stand the box to any of heory was that of their favorite moke too many was that they randy ine vita fa rite, while th wow the cigar for ye withoy put pl consequences if they be 1 quantities. The enly > quantity | to neu- | official “the leader nan Italian, or ease of Sou of Prof. who was a. ¢ Originally the | band was composed of « number of young Italians, who, it wv often charged, w kidnaped in Italy brought to this coun- try by an officer in command of an Ameri- can m war. There was no kidnapin; however, about it, for the entire party were regularl cians and brought to this coun rd the band play the year it was organized. The elaborate brass horns and instruments of the present » had rot been invented then, was produced by and their reed string and nts, such as the clarinet, fin © and piccolo, The string in: ments were violins. There was no_ br: about the band, except trumpets and cym- als. would be a ve see a band parading th front line of which and yet i hav parade that w who a in th Band seen the Marine Ban so have many othe The big man in the Marine the man who in its in: rched in. the of bells, which pole. He was 3 Behind him mar who had similarly a of sma proportions. There have been cornets, trombon in exist then, but them were ever carried by the Marine until 2 1835. 1 was married that y and remember very well seeing the fe a day or before my ma and I am certain there were no horns « ried band, except bugles or trum- pets. t know that their music was net : t as it is to: It sou to us that day how. There seer p more mu: the string and reed instruments than in the various horns | t nd the men who carried the | Us could, for sound, at least, | discount any of the performers in | the band toaay. Berteemeee Oy et about wher. ury the main Department now in three-story brick before it burned down nuch too small for the force of clerk: who were engaged in it. The tire "h destroyed it consumed almost every- thing in t liding, and when the Treas- ury Department moved into a row of four or five buildings on the south side of Penn- nia avenue betw Mth and 15th “ts, the principal office in the row being is now located the entrance to th 4 House, they had to buy every- d start fresh, the books, or, at reater part of them, furniture, all having been destroyed bj The Which destroyed the original building se ° Same buildin, e $ NOt so exten- President Jackson personally d by the Treasury Di ere a numbef of s T parts of the city, people were willing to tw stands, door and long ent. Offered in oth those de kson only se- cond choice. ure! the block on Hotel stands, for th bth street was even more ob- then than now, but the mem- John’s Church would 1 a of moving their church, induced him to sec even after ii Pres: on had framed a letter to Congr recommending the purchase of that square ‘The letter was held until the communic sent to Congress recommendir Iding on its ent site, under a premise that ff it was not accepted he would insist on the preferred site, for Jackson was not as enthusiastic for the 15th street site as he was to have the building face Lafayette Square. The cor- ner stone was laid in 1834, one year after the original building was burned.” + £ ek x “Visitors to the patent office cannot un- derstand why the museum features of the old patent office haye been done away with,” said a patent office attendant to The Star reporter, “and they are much disap- Pointed when we tell them that nearly ali location else- ent } the case in many large boarding houses and m private hot as well, and as a consequence there nt. In the | tion THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 8, 1898-94 PAGES. the show things, formerly here, have been 1emoved to the National Museum. This 1s specially the case with the older people, ho remember the patent office as the great attraction of Washington years ago. Of course, we have thousands of models here and ut the Union building on G street, but they are only of interest in a technicai way, pertaining, as they do, to the business ¢f patents strictly. It will not be long, however, before these will have to go, for patents are now illustrated by drawings, instead of models, The fact is the models are now regarded as rubbish more than anything else, though many of them are of great value, from a historical standpoint. Had the system been kept up, as was the practice for so many years, they not only would have packed the entire patent office building, rooms and halls as well, but would have needed one or two additional buildings as large as the entire building. The policy has entirely changed during the past fifteen years. Then, and prior to that time, for many years, the patent office was made attractive to visitors. Now, the idea is to nave as few visitors as possible. The National Museum has not only all the lead- ing attractions of the patent office of former years, but many thousand of others of even greater interest, though there 1s no doubt that the relics of General Wash- ington and the continental army, which were exhibited for so long in the patent office, are the most interesting exhibits to the general public of any in the National Museum.” “ae *e eK x In the matter of careless and scrawling signatures to official documents,” remarked cne of the treasury auditors to a Star re- porter, “I have arrived at the conclusion that those who are careless in the way they sign their names are also careless in the way the papers are Prepared for their signatures. It is a matter of record that the heads of the departments are more careful in signing their names to public papers than are their subcrdinates, and that, as a rule, the chiefs of bureaus are the greatest offenders in this particular. I could give the names of dozens of offi- als whose signatures it is impossible for any one to read or decipher, or get the slightest idea of what they are tryig to write, unless told in advance what their names were. In this respect the rules and regulations of the civil service are very deficient, for they do not provide for intel- nt signatures to public papers, though they allow the efficiency record of clerks to be reduced for carzlessness in any par- ticular. It is also my observation that the officials who are the most careless in prop- erly signing papers which are prepared for them are the ones who are always so prompt in demanding that the efficiency record of clerks shall be charged with even the slightest errots that they may happen to ¢ommit. It is not a matter of much im- portance to the person who receives an communication or memorandum }o the signer is, for the official designa- ton of the writer is given in typewriting, but it would, I am sure. be more satisfac. tery to the receiver, especially in the mat- ter of replying, if they could decipher the tame intended in the signature.” * oe Kk OK * “Ordinarily the latrobe and furnace-heat- ed houses in this city are warm enough for fort when the fires are carefully watch- Star r vorte: “but there are times, ticularly In the mornings, during par- severe cold when a Klondike feeling pre- in many houses in spite of the extra amount of cecal that is consumed. This is wplaint r » in the coal ad it is charged that the coal 2 not good. The fact, how is that the c that comes here in | just as good t keep a hoi cme people during Under the circumstances, therefore, the only way to be thoroughly safe is that extra stoves should be put up nd during the pendency of biiz- can be utilized. These extra ot be needed fifteen days dur- ing the entire winter, if the proper atten- is given the latrobes and furnac but it is about the only way I know to s the compl: In the end it will p jally in hoarding houses, whi the growling is the loudest, for the average boarder is rarely content unless he or she l that is possible for their money, y get wonderfully wild and unman- ‘le when cold drafts come up through registers on cold mornings or nights stead of warm air. In many houses, but this is the case oftener in private houses than in boarding houses, there is not enough of coal used. I don't say this be- cause I am in the business of selling coal; 1 learned ft in other ways. It happens 1 own several houses, which are oc- cupied by various tenants from time to time. One of them was vacated a few days ago by a family, for the reason, they said, they could net keep warm in it.’ In looking into the matter, I found they used but two heds of coal In each of the three latrobes in ft each day in the cold spell of last week. Had they used six hodfulls in each latrobe op es- each day they would have been more com- fortabl nd this is about the proportion that should take place during Nothing less will be satisfac- —< A DIFFERENC! Member of the Legislature Rises to Express His Surprise. Four or five Washington correspondents were telling stories of thelr experiences with statesmen, local and national, when one of them from a state in the southwest swurg into line with something a little out of the ordinary. “I was doing the legislature,” he began, “for a sy te of newspapers, with some free lance work on the side, and was mak- ing a potful of money out of it. During the course of my ministrations I discovered a case of vote selling by a rural represen- tative that was astonishing for its small- ness. I couldn't find out what the mem- ber got, but it couldn’t have been much, for the whole matter at issue wasn’t worth more than $4.50 or thereabouts. After ex- hausting all my sources of information I thcught I would try the member himself and see how guileless he was on a little thing like that. I didn’t dare ask him his price, but I did dare to talk about it, and I wi t him direct! “Say, young feller,’ he said after I had talked awhile, ‘how much do you git fer a news item like that? “It's a pretty big thing for me,’ I re- plied persuasively, ‘and I'll get $25 for the story if I can get it complete.” ““How much? he asked with an eager IN PRICE. The ‘Twenty-five dollars,’ I repeated. e whizz, I'd like to have your job.’ ““Why? It isn't an easy one. Not so Z yours anyway.’ raps it ain't,’ he said slowly, ‘but it pays better.” “ “How do you mean?” ““Why, you git $25 fer jist telling about at I done fer $5." ‘i syntax mightn’t have been perfect, concluded the speaker, “but the s, and that was what I wanted.” ——.__—_ A NATURAL DEATH. wi Characteristic Close of a Checkered Kentucky Career. They were telling stories with a wide range of locality, and, perhaps, probability, and the name of Col. Tom Stuart as a fa- mous Kentucky story teller and man-around ate came up. ‘What ever became of the colonel?” in- quired a statesman. “He went west and batted around there for several years, and then came back to Kentucky.” “Is he still living?” “Oh, no. Been dead twenty years. Didn't die a natural death, did he?” e “You don’t say! I never would have thought it.” “Yes. He got into a scrap over politics and the other fellow shot him on the spot.” The listener showed his surprise. “Shot?” he exclaimed. “Why, I thought you said he died a natural death.” “That's what I did say.” “Then how in thunder do—” “Hold on!’ interrupted the other man. “You seem to forget that we are talking about Keatucky.” HE WAS A CLEVER AUTHOR He walked into a Pennsylvania avenue cafe with the air of one who had seen better days—or thirty days, at least—and was much in need of a-libation. Despite his dilapidated appearance it was quite apparent that he was a man of in- telligence. Accosting a group of men he began: “Gentlemen, I do not wish to encroach on your time, neither would I impose on your good nature, for I see you are laud- ably engaged. But I am interested in bringing. to the attention of the reading public a book which—” “Out with the book agent!” came a vol< ley that cut his sertence short. “I am not a book agent,” the newcomer pleaded. “Far from it. My hatred for that species of humanity is as pronounced as yours can possibly be. I wanted merely to call your attention to an idea I have for a book.” His look of earnestness attracted the sympathy of the coterie and they stopped to Hsten. “Now, I have corceived the idea of get- ting out a volume of ‘starters’ for story tellers,” he continued. ‘“‘What I mean by ‘starter’ is a helper to a person in begir- ning a story properly. By my method an increased interest is given to a story, as the author may carry the impression that it is original with him.” “What do you mean? Explain yourself?” ome of the listeners demanded. The Wandering Willie assured his au- Gience that he should be glad to explain, and he forthwith proceede “Now, in the first place, pcsing—well—for instance, we'll an old soldier, a Grand Army man. Sup- posing he was to tell a story. How much better {t would sound, and how much more interest would be lent to it, did he preface it with this: ‘It was during the fall of ’6 when Burnside’s corps was reconnoitering west of the Rappahannock,’ and then pro- ceed with the story. His auditors would surely; think it happening before his vis- (i “Capital idea,” party. “How would you traveling salesman ? group. “Oh, that’s easy. How does this strike you?" and he gave a convulsive shudder which suggested the waning of his ner- vous system. “I shall never forget a little incident that occurred a dozen years ago, when I was traveling for a firm in Boston.” ‘These were voted good by the crowd, -but there was an almost unanimous thought suggested that it might not be possible to get a ‘starter’ that would be suitable to every profession or vocation. volunteered one of the anale a story from a asked another of the “Why, it's dead simple,” the stranger persisted. ‘I never fail, and my book is a winner.” “Well, what would you give a minister for a ‘starter?’ asked another. “During my pastorate in Babylon, Long Island, there was a—" “Hold on!" exclaimed the bartender, who had been an all right interested listener. “That's but supposing I wanted to tell a t kind of a ‘starter’ would you he fellow looked puzzled for a moment, and then a sweet smile of contentment played over his face. “When I was slaving over at Owen Nic- Ginness’ place, in Georgetown, th——” “That's enough,” broke in the bartender. Associating the calling uf dispensing booze with that of slavery had found a willing ponse in his breast. That book is a winne continued, “and I want t right now.” ‘The crowd gathered around the stranger and bought him numerous drinks. An hour later he might have been seen sauntering down the next block, his face clad in a smile of triumphant complacency, and tnultering to himself: “It's better to be a judge of human nature than to have been born rich.” —_-._ LINCOLN’S PALLBEARERS, ort Distinguished Number Who Served Only Two Are Living. “Don't you know that man?” asked a southern member of Congress of a Star re- porter, pointing to an elderly man with gray, curly hair and mustache, who stood at the corner of 14th and F streets a few afternoons ago. “That is H. G. Worthington, and few men in this world have had such a diversified life as he. He and Henry G. Dawes of Massachusetts are the only survivors of the distinguished men who acted as pall- bearers at the funeral of President Lin- coln. That was on April 18, 1865. “Worthington was then a representative from Nevada, and that was by no means his first position in public life. He was a member of the California legislature in 1851, and served together with the recently retired Justice Field. He was with W the filibuster, in his expedition to r- agua, and barely escaped the fate that befel Walker and several thousand of his fol- lowers. “Worthington participated In the admis- sion of three states. He is one of the few persons living who stumped California tor Gen. John C. Fremont. He was a great friend of Fremont, and was his legal repre- sentative in settling up his Mariposa estate, in California. “He was sent by Nevada as her first rep- resentative in Congress. Nye and Stewart came along at the same time as senators. When Grant was in California, long before the war, he became acquainted with Worth- ington. The friendship that sprung up be- tween them in the golden slate was sever- ed only by Grant's death. “President Johnson appointed Worthing- ton to a South American mission.. Later he was recalled, and Grant appointed him cot- lector of the port of Charleston, 8. C. He is a native of South Carolina. ‘The people of the palmett> state sent him to Congress, too. “Worthingtcn was in Ford’s Theater the night that President Lincoln was shot, and he was a witness at the trials of the assas- sins. He had been with the President at the Wnite House in the afternoon. He spends much time in Washington, and it is always a rare treat to meet and converse with him.” ‘The names of the pallbearers at President Lincoin’s funeral, as given in The Evening ‘tar, April 18, 1865, were: Senate—Foster of Connecticut, Morgan of New York, Johnson of Maryland, Yates of Illinois, Wade of Ohio, Conners of California; House—Dawes of Massachusetts, Coffroth of Pennsylvania, Smith of Kentucky, Colfax of Indiana, Worthington of Nevada, Washburn of Illi- nois; army—Gens. Grant, Halleck and Nic ceils; navy—Farragut, Shubrick and Zeli civilians—O. H. Browning of Illinois, ‘hom: as Corwin of Ohio, George Ashman of Mas- sachusetts, Simon Cameron of Pennsy}- vania. What Anna Held and THE DOWNFALL OF MOONY “You used to know Moony, didn’t you?” said a geatleman to a Star reporter at an uptown hotel recantly. ‘He was a fine newspaper man, if{you remember rightly,” the speaker contidued. “Everybody liked Moony. He had ¥orked on all the large Pspers of the. cJuntry. He was popular with ates i. was known as one of the brightest the profession. He al- ways had a ‘nai turn of mind, and the fact of the matt is he was well up in most physiolo; 1 subjects. Everybody predicted a ‘briiliant future for him. It is @ sad thing bout nis downfall.” The Star feporter had not heard of this descent of Moony-in the social ecale, and eapressed surprise and wonder at it. “Way, I thought everybody had heard of Moony,”” was the answer. “You know he is a glass eater and sword swallower cn the Bowery. Tatways had a most friendly fe7t- ing toward him, and when I was in New York the other day. he told me the whole stery of his downfall and how he came to have his present positioa. Like all the newspaper men on Park Row ‘n New York, Moony was addicted to the quick-lunch habit. It is a habit which, when it once takes hold of a man, seldom deserts him. Moony worked on an &fternoon paper, and for such a person the quick-lunch habit be- comes a second nature. He had been working on a morning paper in Chicago, and except under extraordinary circum- stances, had usually plenty of time to eat his meals. When he came to New York, however, on this eveaing paper, he told me he used to take, at the most, three min- utes in which to dispose of his ‘ham and,’ ‘two out and draw one,’ and the like. He was reprimanded several times for being ten cr fifteen seconds late by his city edi- tor, and as a necessity became so proficient that he could throw enough for an ordi- nary meal into himself and finisn with bis tcothp:ck in one minute and forty-eight sec- onds by the watch. As a consequence, the usual thing resulted. Moony grew a case of indigestion that would have been worth a thousand dollars to any medizal museum in the country. He became morbid, and it was noticed that he spent all his spare time at the Central Park Zoc. He never wrote any stories about it, and it was wondered what was his game. Whenever he was seen in the Zoo he was in front of the in- elesure containing the ostriches. He would stand there and look at them for hours, and would always turn away with a mournful expression when he left. I was told all this by persons who knew Mc! I was told that he was conducting scicn- tific experiments and had to change his bearding houses several times in conse- quence. The climax was almost reached one night, when he led a full-grown ostrich into his bed room and told the landlady please not to have the bird disturbed, as he wished tc experiment with it. He had bought the ostrich for a !arge sum at some animal store down near Park Row. “The landlady wouldn't stand for Moony’s experiments with the ostrica. The consequence was he rented an entire flat, which, as may be imagined, made a big hole in his salary. He was a clever space writer, and made enough to do this, how- e Two or three moaths after this it became rumored that Moony had an appe tile which would put a hippopotamus to sleep in the first rouad. Queer stories be- gan to circulate about Moony in the news- paper office in which he worked. Paper gan to disappear like ragic. Ink bot- es could not’ be kept over twenty-four hours. Six pairs disappeared most. 1 teriously, and one of the office boys who Went into the city room late one afternoon swore he caught Moony swallowing The globes from the incay ent lights disappeared! mysteriously, and another fice boy, why was put on to watch one af- ternoon, destared that Moony, who bad re- mained in the Ollice with some excuse about writing something; had been seen to take one of the: globes from the lights and slowly chew it up, smicking his Ips as if he liked it. fhe boy was so badly frighten- he did not remain tonge>. Paper weights d_electrotypes could no more remain in that office than buckwheat cakes and mo- lasses in front of a hungry boy. “Such tales were told about Moony that the outcome was he had to resign hi: tion, and the next heard of him was he was seen as a glass eater and sword swallower 6n the Bowery. He recognized me when I went in, and told me to wait un- til after the performance and ke would tell me the story. I had some iittle curiosity In regard to the matter and when the show was finished we went to a near-by restaur- ant. He Mt two or three pieces out of his glass, remarking at the same time he could not help doing it if he was to be shot for it “His tale was indeed a sad one. Accord- ing to his account, after he had become af- flicted with dyspepsia, he had conceived an idea of experimenting with the siomach of an ostrich, He had studied the subject thoroughly and experimented with such terrible success that his downfall resulted in consequence. He had conceived the fdea of making pepsin out of the stomach cf an ostrich just the same as it Is made from the stomach of a hog. He made the pepsin and had taken so much of it that his stom- ach had become exactly like that of the ostrich itself. Moony could not break him- self of the habit of eating all sorts and manner of the food. The only thing for him to do, he told me, with tears in his eyes, wus to accept the position which he held when I talked with him, and he said that ne had proved to be one of the most successful of the kind known. “Moony scemed to think that the awful moral furnished by his case was that a newspaper man should stick to his profes- sion and not go outside of it to mix up with any scientific subject of any kind.” ——.—___ NOVEL CURE FOR INSOMNIA. The Only Way One Man Can Woo Na- ture’s Sweet Restorer. “No, I am not through with my day's work yet,” said a 7th street barber, as he turned the key in the door of his shop a few nights ago. “Not through?” asked a bystander who had but a few minutes before left his chair. “No, sir,” the barber continued. “I have a customer whom I have shaved every night for nearly three years. It's a fact, and that man wouldn't be able to sleep a wink tonight if I did not go and shave him. At least he thinks he couldn't sleep with: out it. “Funny, isn’t it? For several years he suffered with nervous prostration, which brought on insomnia. The doctors—and he tried not a few—did him little good. Dur- ing this time, he let his beard grow until he had long flowing whiskers. “One day his wife asked him if he wouldn't feel better to have his whiskers shaved off. He assented, and I was called in. It was about 9 o'clock, after I had closed my shop for the day.’ I removed the whiskers and gave his head a good rub- bing. That: night he slept soundly; the first real sleep he had had for month: “The next night he suffered with wake- fulness. The night following he was just as bad, Finally, in two or three days, his wife again called me in to shave him. I did so, and that night he got a good sleep. The result is that I was called in every night. “Finally, I agreed to do the work for so Much a ftonth; and I am a regular caller at his home eveFy night. I am the last one to see Him. “After I shave him and rub his head he’ goeS‘directly to bed. He has had no insomnia ‘Since I began the nightly shaving. st “No, it fgn't Bécause of any particular power I hae over him. Any barber could do it, I suppose; but he won’t have any one but ms. Yes, it is a bore sometimes, when I want to!go away, but he pays me enough to make ttan object. I must hurry, or he willie worrying.” oS Porcupine Quills. “What may thése quills be?’ asked the writer, pointing $9 several small bundles of black and whitesspikes which recently lay on the tablé' of af importing house in New York. = } 2 “They arg samples of porcupine quills, said the merchant. ‘They come from India and also from Spain, and are chiefly sold to fishing tackle: houses. These concerns polish and supply them with the necessary Pieces of cork to increase their natural buoyancy, and the quills are then pur- chased by anglers, who use them quite extensively for bottom fishing. Some of the black and white spikes are made into pen- holders and pipe stems. They are also largely utilized in making up ornaniental screens and fancy fans. “The porcupine has to be hunted and killed before the quills can be obtained, and many thousands of these animals are slain for this purpose yearly, Every “spike pig” carries from $1.50 to $3 worth of quills on his fretful back. Thé quills are care- fully extracted, and when ‘dried they are packed in boxes or crates and shipped to London and New York. They are worth $8 to $7 a gross wholesale, and the ly is barely this country.” _—~ (paste and equal to the demand in} Second American SCIENCE OF SCARPOLOGY “Did you ever hear of a man telling a person’s character by” looking at his shoes?” inquired a gentleman, glancing at the writer's gaiters reflectively. The scribe repiied that he had not, and asked for further information on the sub- ject. “Well,” said the speaker, know an eld man living in Brooklyn, N. Y., who is well to do, and has a name for collecting cast-off shoes and slippers, all of which he studies for the purpése of gaining an in- sight into human nature. His collection of old shoes numbers over one thousand specimens, and consists of the discarded foctgear of prominent society and public people, living and dead. The shoes are mostly obtained by the collector, who makes a business of either writing to or calling upon the wearers and bidding for the shabby leather. Each shoe or pair ot shoes is carefully packed in a cardboard box and labeled with the late owner's name. The collector has designated results of his investigation into the secrets of discarded shoes as ‘scarpology,’ a name which is defined by Archbishop Whately as meaning ‘a science that gives a clue to the character of men from a study of their superannuated leather.’ I had a talk with the old scarpological savant last week, and during the conversation he said: “Carlyle has, as you may know, shown what an amount of philosophy can be ex- tracted from old clothes, and after many years of patient study I have discovered val- uable properties in old shoes. For instance,’ said the old man, displaying a pair of shoet that once belonged to Gen.Grant, ‘a discard- ed boot the heel and sole of which show, like this, equal and even traces of hard work after two or three months’ use de- notes its wearer to be, if a man, an ener- Getic, determined and practical individual, ard if a woman a faithful spouse and an excellent household manager. “‘A sole worn and broken on the out- side denotes a fanciful, capricious and visionary individual, while the contrary be- trays irresolution, weakness and timidity. Boots whereof the outside soles and the edge of the toe caps are worn away show their owner to be everything that is bad and capable of any crime up to murder. “Another elementary rule that can be laid down with unfailing certainty is that young women who try to insert their feet into shoes denominated in technical lan- guage as fours when their proper size should be designated as sixes are to be avoided by young men. For no trust,’ con- cluded the old scarpologist, in his own plain- spoken style, ‘is to be on any account plac- ed in women with big feet who try to make people believe that they have got pieds mignons by crushing and cramping them- selves into small shoes after the fashion of the female inhabitants of the celestial empire.’ "” —.>__ LOVELIEST IN THE WORLD. But It Seems That He Was Referring to Another Woman. “I know what I am talking about,’ re- marked a member of Congress, “when I say that a Congressman has trouble: his own. It’s a fine thing to be a men and show up in the national parade of greatness at the capital, but there's a good deal more to it than that. And one of the things that is hardest to be is what they ut us. Why, a lady n't come up nd ask to see a mem- ber that there aren't a half dozen people to wink and shake the head and a lot nore of the same to make him wish all the e in hades. Of course, there e ground among us for re- marks, there is among preachers and d@ hod carriers and every- bedy an, and I know a weman or two who find their chief delight in trying to involve congressmen and other officials in any kind of a flirtation that comes hendy. They are pretty suasive, and before a man kno he is about he is down in the Se trurant p ng for Junch and listening to some kind of a tale of woe. “But they miss it now and then, and I am glad to note an ins e which occur- rec only day or two ago. A member from a ‘rn state had been invited to call at the lady’s hotel the next day and she had ed him to let her know if he could come. He wrote saying among othe things: “Tomorrow, madam, I hope to see the lo woman in the whole world,’ Naturally she was pleased and told all the people around the hotel about it. Tne lay he did net appear, and the next F aw him at the Capitol and asked him what he meant by treating her so. “What did I do?’ he asked innocently. ‘You said you were coming to see me, said, blushing at the remembrance of ‘I think not.’ ‘Indeed, you did,” she in ed. ‘You the loveliest woman the and she blushed again. “Oh, I beg your pardon,’ he said, smil- ing, ‘I’ meant my wife. She just arrived yesterday.’ ”” > BISMARCK’S MISANTHROPY. Why the Prince Holds Mankind Gen- erally in Bitter Contempt. Berlin Letter to the London Standard. Herr Rudolph Lindau, one of Prince Bismarck’s most trusted ‘subordinates, who has for many years been chief of the press department of the foreign office, has just published a very interesting ar- ticle about Bismarck, for which he has been collecting material since he entered the foreign office in 1878. I quote his remark on Prince Biemarck’s contempt of mankind: “The begging letters addressed to a man like Prin Bismarck number thousan Some time ago, when he was ill at Var- zin, all the letters addressed to him that were not of a strictly private nature were sent back to Berlin to be read and an- swered there. The majority of them con- tained ‘most obedient’ requests, but hard- ly one of the writers had any claim on the prince. One of the officials whose business it was to read those letters— an orderly man and evidently a lover of Statistics—amused himself by drawing up a list of all the petitions for money. The total amount of the sums begged for was 10,000,000 marks. The prince did not laugh when this was told him, but shrug- ged his shoulders and put on a look of bitter ccrtempt. On the other hand, it is natural that quiet, decent, self-respect- ing people, who ask’ nothing of him and do not wish to trouble him with their private affairs, never come into contact with him unless they stand in some offi- cial relation to him or have real business to transact with him. So it is quite nat- ural tha: he sees a great deal of the low side of human nature, and it is hardly surprising that he is said to have become skeptical, and even misanthropic. Prince Bismarck is certainly well aware that there are many very honorable people in the world, but experience has taught him that it is his ill-luck to have inter- course with a comparatively small number of them. He clings firmly to the few men and women he trusts because he knows them to be his true friends; but he is sus- Picious of strangers. His first thought when he sees a new face may naturally be: ‘Well, what does the man want of me?’ This explains why he is generally feared, though his intimate friends warmly testi- fy to his friendliness and amiability.” ———_-e+___ Unquestionably True. From the Chicago Post. “after all, Croker wasn’t very ill, was be?” “Of course not. Croker had no particular reason to be. It was New York that ought to have felt sick.” The National Calamity. From Life. Written for The Evening Star. A Calmiaation, (Ballade.) Make ready, common folk who stare, For places at the play to fight. An entertainment passing rare Shall dawn on your bewildered sight. I know ‘tis something to invite The wit and fashion of the town, And move them to sincere deligh My lady wears her silken gown. "The tragedy? I pray you spare My memory, which with names is slight. ‘Tis Shakespeare's, though, performed with care By mummers who can well recite. No doubt ’tis of some regal wight Who struggied rudely for a crown; But be assured ‘tis most polite. My lady wears her silken gown. How men once hailed the trumpet’s blare, Or met for love to fall or smite, While chroniclers on scanty fare Would toil their stories to indite. And how the poet strove to write In fitting phrase their grandeur down, And make the show whereto this night My lady wears her silken gown. Envoi. Oh, Genius, mark your final flight, And Bravery your last renown! Behold a guerdon, ample quite. My lady wears her silken gown. * * + Ilusions, “Sonny,” said Uncle Eben, “whut does ‘kon you's gwinter do when you gits . I reckons I's gwinter be President ere United State you does, does yer!" ir. Deys said in school dat any boy dat does ‘is examples an’ minds de teacher nee o” bein’ President er ited State: “Dar's allus a pow’ful lot o’ men a-hang. in’ round waitin’ foh dat job,” remarked the old man, meditatively. “Well, ef I can't git dat I'll take sump- in’ else. I wouldn’ mind bein’ some er dem folks.” is it? You wants ter be folks dat looks like he aw er emperor aw oh ide: “Dat's h runs fings. Well, lemme folks dat is nuff runnin’ fin; mos’ allus hahd ter fi “But yoh hyahs ‘em makin’ peeches an’ sees ‘em huslin’ roun’,” protested the boy. oh kain’ tell by dat. You co: long | wif m The old man led the way down the s to a stcam engine “Would yer have any objections to lefin de boy see how yoh Kin ketch hol’ er one | er dem pieces 0° machinery whule whi " an’ foller it roun’ an’ roun’?” ge inquired. The engineer complied with the request, und the old man called Jim’s attention to him, saying: ‘See how he keep dat wheel a-movin’?” His han’ sutny do go fas’ was the boy’s comment. “You'd 'magine he was gwinter wah de ingine out, maian’ it go so fas’.” ‘Well, he could lef’ go ef he wanted to it could run jes’ de same, wouldn't “So {t could. sonny; so it could. An’ dat's whut ‘minds me er de way dishere worl’ would go right along de same.ef some er dese hyah folks dat makes so much fuss an’ splurge wus ter lay off an’ take @ res’. *- * ok An Incautious Epicure. “I suppos aid the young woman, “that when a miner makes a big discovery it is to his interest to avoid spreading ihe news, so as to keep as much as possible for him- self.” 5 “Some of them try it answered the re- turned gold-seeker. ut as a rule it doesn’t work. When 2 man has suddenly reached enormous wealth he is almost cer- tain to betray the fact in some way.” “Have you known of such cases on the Klondike?” “Only one. Ordinarily the men don’t try to deceive anybody. One chap made a big discovery and tried to keep it quiet; but it wasn’t more than a day or two before ev- erybody knew he had struck {t rich.” se in his manner betrayed it ‘No. vas seen spending more money than usual? “No. He never spent any money in pub- lic. He was a great one for keeping to himeeltf.”” “Perhaps he talked in his sleep.” “Wouldn't have been anybody to hear him if he had.” “You surely were not mean enough to skaduw him “Didn’t have to. He practically an- nounced that he had suddenly become a millionaire himself. There wasn’t any pos- sibility of mistake. “How did he do it “Came around one day with the smell of onions on his breath.” ™ x * The Time He Was Looking For. The mild-looking but earnest-spoken old gentleman had been talking for some time to @ stranger who came up while he was waiting to buy stamps at the post office. Appearances would have suggested that they were congenial spirits. The large jewelry and conspicuously striped clothing worn by the second comer were in strong contrast to the unobtrusive garb of his newly-made friend, “It's no use talk- ing,” the loudly- man was saying, “times are getting harder an’ harder with me. Can't guess now what the finish is go- ing to be.” “Don't worry about the future, my friend,” was the re- ply.“ Work out your own destiny.” “Of course. I al- ways believed in go- ing ahead and play- ing out your hand. But what's the use when there ain't any stakes in sight.” “Ah, but there is something before you worthy of your best endeavors. Don't for- ~o ae mankind is ever struggling toward ~ level.” = “Yes. People are getting mighty know- ing nowadays.’ improving in their “Not only are they sg Et ard taining a higher movel ideal. There is no er king, | eet | doubt abow it. We are progressing toward the millenntum.” “The what?” “The millennium. The time when will be peace and innocence. When the will be no suspicion of man by his fellow man. “Do you think so?” “Certain! I. that’s the time I'm looking for. That's the hopefulest word I have heard in a long time. I guess I'll hold out for a little while longer.” “Iam glad t you regard the prospect with so much enthusiasm.” “Enthusiasm! That ain't the word for it The idea of @ time of general innocence where there won't be any suspicions be- tween gents is the only thing that'll kee; me from going desperate.” “You seem to have some especial reason.” have. It’s a matter of business. “What is your line of business?” “Well, just by way of friendly confidence. and for the sake of getting further ticulars, I'll give it away to you. I'm a bunco steerer. The business is getting dreadfully cut up by competition and about the only way I can make up for lost time is to find a whole world full of innocent peo- ple to operate on.” _ ke Sympathy. to give some pen An’ I'll do so when I kin, To save these here barbarians From low-down ways an’ si When I hear folks describe The tear-dreps fairly pours. I'm sorry fur them heathen ‘That lives cn furrin shores. em When from my feet so chilly The patche: starts to fall, I think of them a-wanderin’ Without no shoes at all Of course their climate’s warmer An’ Jeatner ain't much prized, But they'd ought to know that doin’ "thout Their shoes ain't civilized. While callin’ ¢ n'lord, With fectin’s of doubt, I think about their ignorance To live a-cumpin’ out. They don’t pay nothin’ in advance | __A hall rocm to engage. {ain't no fur m | In this inlightened age. ‘round | the cocoanuts | _A lunch that’s always free. | Them poor benighted loafers | win si r fill And not a a-worryin’ Avout the grocery bill! They don’t have no gunpowder Nor ‘lection fights aor jails, Nor schemes fur makin’ ‘money That brea a When they fails j Jes’ think existin’ |" So ca’miy I'm sorry fur That lives en res! ar animint ne Farmer Con- tossel, “I feel iy tin’ down and let- tin’ my cou no more worry- in’. 1 do, hor in an’ y fied than I was when I was twe y-one years of age an arted to take my country [in hana.” “ must never give up trying. Remem- her, if you put good men in office that is all that can b of you.” “That's easy © But s'pos'n you do | put good men in office; what then?” “Why, go back to the polls on election y and try to keep them there. When |you have fit men, let them retain their place {You didn't say ‘At men’ the fust time. j You said “good mien. “Well, it's all the same, isn’t it?” “Young man, yer smart, but you ain’t lived long enough to observe what I have. Findin’ good men is jes’ a dust in August. Ye kin find folks that'll lay dowa doctrine an’ pint the way so ui mistakable that ye don’t fur the life of understand how they could deviate.” “Then your course is very simple. them and stand by them.” “Nope. That's jes’ the p'int seem to realize. It ain't more'n once in ten or “leven times that ye kin stand by ‘em. This may be peculiar section, but the ob- servation of us voters is that there ain't nothin’ that seems to onfit.a man fur hold- in’ office like gittin’ one. We might as well submit to the inevitable an’ keep ‘em ae rotatin’.”” as easy as raisin’ Elect ye don’t — A REVOLUTIONARY RELIC, Sword Whic Rattle of Cowpens. A priceless relic of revolutionary days has | just been placed in the state house at Co- lumbia, S. C., for safe-keeping. It is the sword which Tarleton used in lea: British troopers at the battle of Cow, that state, against the patriots under Mor- gan, Pickens, Sumter and Marion. The sword ix the property of Col. T. EB. Dickson, and has been placed with the sword of Marion and other revolutionary relics in the possession of the state arleton lost the sword at the battle of Cowpens, where the patriots won such a ignal victory, a victory which put fresh art in their brethren throughout the colo- nies and hastened the coming of the trium- Phant end of the war at Yorktown. Col. Wm. Washington, the gallant } of the American cavalry, pressed Tarleton 80 closcly in his fight as to be able to ha one exchange of saber blows with the Brit- ish leader. Washington's sword cut Tarle- ton’s fingers and the British colonel dropped his steel, spurred his steed and obtained safety by flught. Wm. Scott, the father of Col. Dickson mother, was an American soldier in the battle of Cowpens. He saw the fight be- tween Washington and Tarleton and picked up the latter's sword when he dropped it. The sword has ever since been preserved in the famtly as a priceless trophy of an- cestral prowess in the revolutionary wai The sword, or saber, for the blade curves back s0 as to give greater force to its blows, is long and heavy. The blade is a yard in length, while the hilt is slightly over six inches long, with an iron guard. There is a long scratch on the guard and a cut in the iron knob at the end of the hilt, which are believed to have been made by the blow of Washington's sword which forced Tarleton to drop his weapon oF which knocked it out of his hand. The iren shank of the hilt is cased in wood, which was covered with leather, much of which has been worn away. Upon the blade, close to the hilt, is ene graved the word “Potter,” probably the neme of its maker. There are many notches in the blade, and scme rust upon it, possibly made by the bicod of patriots who had felt its edge. In this connection, {t will not be amiss to ader i I F & f ;