Evening Star Newspaper, January 29, 1898, Page 23

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 29, 1898-24 PAGES. CUBAN BLOODHOUNDS'| They Were Introduced in the North to Hunt Slaves. A PAIR SOMBTIMES WORTH $200 They Do Not Bay Like lish Hounds. the Eng- REMARKABLE JNSTINCT H. S. Canfield in the Chieage Times-Herald. The first Cuban bloodhounds Janded upon this continent were imported two hundred years ago by Spanish planters of Louis- jana, then Spanish te‘ritory. We all know what the dons were. about 1700. Negroes were ch2aper then, and if a slave gave trouble it did not much matter that the blocdhound’s held, upon his throat was broken only by the tearing of the flesh and tendons. Many times in those days the fugitive negro did not live after his cap- ture. If h2 succeeded in gaining a tree, his olive-skinned masters shot him out as they would « squirrel. If on the ground when caught the cogs killed him, sometimes be- fore the arrival of the horsemen, who had ridden hard to b2 in at the death. ‘The Cutan hound was a valuable dog, and he was well traated. In some of the old court records of Louisiana are bills of sale of nim. In instances the prices ran @s high as $80 a pair. The breed spread all through the south, although I have never heard of the dogs being us2d as man hunte’s in the upper tler of southern states. I dovbt that one kas ever been laid upon the trail of a negro in Virginia, North Car- olina or Maryland. As a matter of cours>, the planters of this century were careful to protect their sinves as far as possible from attacks by the animals. This was generally easy. The runaway slave invariably made for the swamp at the back of the plantation. It gontain-d many streams and lagoons,which Rided him in throwing the dogs off the scent. If the worst came to the worst ie could always climb a tree. I have no doubt that the ancient anecdote of the coon whit remarked to the man with the gun, “Ds shoot, mister; I'm going to come dowa had its origin in some runaway “hand,” perched in a cypress and gazing down at Ris irate master, but pre: the negro’s sense of humor. story is loved and venerated in every “quarters” south of Mason and Dixon's line, and is always good for a laugh. The planter’s care in this matter was dictated mor by policy than humanity. It did not Pay to have a $1,000 negro chewed up by a $0 dog. rving always Ind2ed, this Only for Criminals. The bloodhound ts now used only in the pursuit of criminals. Every southern peni- tentiary has a brace or more of them. Trey are not infrequently a part of the sheriff's outfit. The breed is not always pure, but the dogs serve their purpose bet- ter than fairly well. Their keenness of scent is one of the most remarkable things in nature, though it is of value chiefly in the more thinly ‘settled region. 1t seems incredible that the mere temporary pres- sure of a man’s boot or shoe upon the ground should leave a traceable scent for twenty-four hours, providing that there has been no rain, but there is no doubt that it does. Sometimes in the south a murderer breaks jail. Until the universal introduction of chilled stcel cages this was not a difficult matter. Dogs are tele- graphed for at a distance probably of 150 miles. They arrive a day after the escape. ‘They aze led in leash to the point where the criminal is supposed to have made his exit and uneoupled. They take up the scent instantly and follow it rapidly. The man must have crossed much. water or ecnfused his trail with the hurrying foot- Steps of dozens of others to throw them off. Always supposing that twenty-four hours is the xtreme limit of “law” ullow- ed the fugitive, the bloodhounds are the best means of effecting his capture. Hay- ing far to travel, they do not bay. ‘They have no breath to waste. In the first canto of “The Lady of the Lake.” Scott remarks that “the deep- mouthed bloodhound’s mellow bay resound- ed up the rocky way.” That was the Eng- lish bloodhound. The English bloodhound, or the bloodhound of the continent for that matter, not only bays, but has a remark- ably sonorous and beautiful voice. He “opens,” as it is technically termed, upon @ cold trail and keeps it up until the quar- ry is sighted or run down. The Old-Time Sleuth. He is of great size, with deep chest, Powerful shoulders, massive head, droop- ing jaws and long ears, a remarkably sa- gacious and affectionate animal, cour- ageous, though not especially savage, and one of the best friends man ever had. This hound is known In the old prints as the “sleuth” hound, or “slot” hound, taken from the old “sleuth” or “slot”—otherwise “trail”’—of the deer. He is called the bloodhound, not because he is particularly fond of blood as a matter of diet, but be- cause, having once found the blood-trail of @ wounded animal, he follows it with won- derful stanchness. He will, in fact, unless taken off by force, follow it until he drops, and rising will stagger along until ‘he falls again. The only English blood- hounds I have ever seen, outside of a few strolling “Uncle Tom” theatrical com- panies, were kept merely as ornaments, and I do not think that they would have been of value in chasing the deer. The English bloodhound is not used in the south. That is where Mrs. Stowe’s er- ror was made. The dog there is the Cu- ban bleodhound. He differs materiaily from his English cousin. He is larger, fliercer and swifter, with more of a bulldog cut about his head. He is probably a de- seendant of a bull cross. He is invariably mute until his quarry is sighted. Almost any dog will give tongue when he comes: within view of the object of his pursuit after a long chase. This dog is not a snapper. as is the English. He is a pin- | ning dog, which comes probably from his bull strain. Once his teeth are locked, they can be disengaged only by the in: od of grasping his off his breath. feces ———_-e- ARABIAN WOMEN AND MARRIAGES. and shutting Their Life is Fall of Sentiment and Quaint Customs. From the Springfield Reputiican. Arabians have peculiar ideas on the mar- riage question. An Arab will invariably offer marriage to his brother’s widow. It is considered a sign of respect to the dead brother and the living woman by so do- ing, as the Semitic tradition mentioned in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures telis us. In an Arab town a statement made before the cadi constitutes all the essen- tial marriage ceremony. In the desert the only necessary function is the slaughter- ing of a sheep within or before the tent of the bride's father. Arabs not infrequently change and exchange wives, to the high Satisfaction of all concerned. If a man 18 dissatisfied with his wife he may return her to her father, but he must also return her marriage portion in full, and if she be of the Bedouin blood a she camel must be added to the original dower. Arab wives as a rule are treated with consideration and with no small share of tenderness. In Arabia woman's position is one of dignity, her attitude one of self-respect. Arab men | are as full of sentiment as of prowess, and no more ashamed of the one than the other. Arabs who know Europe say that “Euro- peans are hard upon their women, and do not fear God or conceal their offenses.” An Arab will not often expose a sinful woman, even though she sin against his own near kinsman, but will say: “I must cover her with my cloak. And more indul- gence must we give to women than to ourselves—for they are weaker, and while equally tempted, are less able to withstand temptation.” Like the geisha of Japan, the dancing girl of Arabla may, and often eae oe An Arab an absolute to the hand of his girl cousin. ’ has more than one male cousin, the prior claim is the oldest cousin's, or, in some tribes, that of the oldest unmarried cousin. ‘The man must provide all necessaries for his wife and if she has money or earns any she spends it in dress. If she makes him a skull cap or a handkerchief he must pay for her work. In the land of Ishmael no honeymoons are ever taken by the bridal couple after the ceremony has been performed. How- ever, it frequently falls to the lot of the bride-elect to make a very trying journey just previous to her marriage. If she is to be married to a man in a neighboring town she goes to him—not he to her, for she is leaving her home and he is not—what more natural than that she should be put to the inconvenience? Besides, it is con- sidered luckier for the bride to cover the distance, if there is any, between herself and her future husband. And what a pic- ture she makes as she comes riding proud- ly her nuptial camel! She rides in a litter, canopied by embroidered, tasseled and tin- seled silk or fine cloth. On the canopy is an appropriate text or more from the Koran, embroidered in gold. The camel Wears a proud plume of ostrich feathers. His long neck is dyed deep with brilliant hannah. His face and head are hung with wee mirrors, which flash in the sunlight. His grotesque bulk and his gaunt legs are swathed and hung with phulkaris—strange eastern cloths bedight with squares and ovals of looking-glass and long, thick stitches of rich silk. Some girl or woman friend rides with the bride, and attendants and protectors precede and follow her. 2 oo —____ THE BOOKBINDERS’ ART. From the Pall Mall Magazine. In the many wars which devastated the earth, the conquerors often ruthlessly de- stroyed the libraries of the vanquished; and, where volumas were saved, it was due to the richness of the bindings. The Flor- entines destroyed the books of the Medici; the pr2cious treasures of the Vatican per- ish2d at the sack of Rome by the Constable de Bourbon; but ‘In many instances the richness and beauty of the decoration saved from destruction volumes which now enrich the national collections of the world. Today in the auction marts of Europe becks realize enormous pric?s on account of their binding. Volumes which are by no means unique or extremely rare, if of- fered for sale with a binding executed for Grolier, Can2vari cr from the workshops of Du Suel or Le Gascon, will excite among wealthy collectors “these Tanta- luses who can never quench their thirst,” a fierce competition, and realize for thir owners princely sums. A copy of La Fon- taine’s “Contes et Nouvelles en Vers,” beund by Dercme for Madam> de Pompa- dour, realized 17,000 francs. Of this sum the purchaser paid at least 16,000 francs for the binding. “In some respects,” wrote the gentle Elia, “the better a book is, the Iss it demands from binding. Fielding, Smollett, Sterne, and all that class of per- petually self-reproductive volumes—Great Nature's Stereotypes—we see them indi- vidually perish with less regret, because we know the copies of them to be eterne. But where a book is at once bot good and rare —where the individual is almost the spe- jes, and when that p2rishes “We know not where is that Promethean torch That can its light relumine’— such a book, for instance, as the life of the Duke of Newcastle by his duchess—no casket is rich enough, no casing sufficiontly durable, to honor and keep safe such a jewel.” The Water Clock, Frem the London Standard. The water clock, otherwise the clepsydra, seems, unless the Egyptologists find some- thing fresh in that land of incessant dis- coveries from the most far mists of time, to kave been the first scientific effort at noting the hours. A good many people talk glibly about the clepsydra who neither know its precise construction nor the na- tion who have the credit of constructing it. That belongs to the Assyrian, and as far back as at least over 2,600 years ago the clepsydra was used in Nineveh under the sway of the second Sardanapalus. It was a brass vessel of cylindrical shape, holding several gallons of water, which could only emerge through One tiny hole in the side. Thus the trickling of the fluid marked a certain amount of time, and the water was emptied about half a dozen times per diem. In Nineveh there was one at the palace and one in each principal dis- trict. These were all filled by signal from a watchman on a tower at the moment of sunrise, and each had an attendant, whose business it was to refill the clepsydra as soon as it was emptied, the fact being an- nounced by criers, much as in the last cen- tury the watchmen drowsily shouted the -hours at night throughout the streets of London. Some five centuries later an an- onymous genius nade a great improvement by inserting toothed wheels, which, revolv- ing, turned two hands on a dial In clock feshion, thus showing the progress of the time, which from one filling to emptying averaged two hours and a half. In this shape the clepsydra, which was then chiefly procurable in Egypt, became introduced to various other nations, including Rome, where it flourished with various splendid ecaeita buactite until the end of the em- Pire. Spanish Pride. From the Army and Navy Journal. Spanish pride is proverbial. An incident in the life of Lord Cochrane, the Earl of Dudenald, is illustrative. Lord Cochrane, in command of a little brig, the Speedy, in broad daylight captured the Spanish frig- ate, the Gamo. The Speedy carried a crew of fifty men, and threw a broadside of twenty-eight pounds of metal; the Gamo a crew of three hundred men and a broad- side of over one hundred pounds. The Speedy had previously, through a ruse, escaped from a large Spanish ship in the night, and some of her officers rather crit- icised the action of her captain on the oc- casion—in that he did not make an effort to capture the Spaniard. This made Coch- rane mad. So when the enemy came up he hove to, as if about to surrender. Sud- denly a puff of wind carried him alongside. He grappled and boarded. The Speedy lay so low her opponent was unable to depress the guns sufficient to hit her, while the Erglishman made every shot tell. The boarders, after stout opposition, carried the enemy. When the action was over the Spanish captain requested some certificate from Dudenald as to the way in which he had fought the ship. He received one: “This certifies that Captain of the Spanish frigate Gamo fought his issue like a true Spaniard!” The defeated gentleman was greatly pleased, and so was the nation, for on returning home he was itamediately given another and more important com- mand. ———~+e+______ Lendon’s Expensive Fogs. From the London Telegraph. Fogs are costly inffictions. Figures taken from an official source show that the ex- cess In the day’s gas bill would represent the supply of a town with 10,000 to 20,000 inhabitants for a whole year. The total corsumption on one foggy day was 150,- 000,000 cubic feet, the excess In the output by the Gas Light and Coke Company alone being 35,000,000 cubic feet. The total cost of the gas consumed was $120,000, of which $40,000 w due to the fog. In addition there must be added the cost of electricity and oil, and the loss of business by stop- page of traffic and lack of custom is a seri- ous matter for the west end shopkeepers. ‘That there is other loss than the mere worldly one is demonstrated by a spiritual- ist, who gives striking testimony that Lon- don fog interferes terribly with the mani- testations to the faithful. The lady spirit- ualist relates that after twenty years’ de- privation mediumship returned to her un- sought immediately on her arrival at Bath from smoky London. “I want,” said the excited Chicago woman to the telephone exchange, “my husband, please, at once!” : “Number, please,” said the polite opera- or. “Orly the fourth, you impudent thing!" snapped back the fair telephoner. THE BETHLEHEM FOLK Gardens and Pretty White Homes of. the Gentle Mountaineers. An Active, Intelligent d Honest People Who Are Likewise Thrifty and Progressive. From the London Echo. = Bethlehem, the little town on a southern spur of the Judean hills, was on many thousand lips all over the world holiday week. Here are one or two impressions of the place and people derived from more than one visit, the last about seven years ago. They have only to do with the aspects of today, for the railway has not reached Bethlehem yet, and neither town nor people are likely to have altered materially since 1890. We sre at the extremity of a cres- cent-shaped hill where the southern limb curves eastward. North, south and west treeless, rock-strewn ridges succeed each other, utterly barren to the eye, for the seanty patches of tilled ground are hidden in the hollows. Patches of dark scrub re- lieve the gray mo.otony. Eastward stretch- es a savage wilderness, a billowy desola- tion, gashed and seamed by gorges leading down to the Dead sea. Its sullen waters, simmering in the furnace heat of the vast chasm which holds them, are hidden from us. Beyond, the #teep mountain wall of Moab makes a high horizon, the loftiest point in the sky line being the reputed Nebo. The hill on which we stand is green with olive and fig and vine, and at its foot the little level space, the field of Boaz, is bright with yellow grain in the spring. The oasis is in pleasant contrast with the stern wilds that girdle it, and its name of Bethlehem— House of Food—is as apt as any that could have been bestowed upon it by the dwellers in this parched and thirsty land. Not that the place is one of nature’s gardens. If the ground were merely tickled it would not laugh a harvest. It is coy and has to be wooed assiduously ere it yields its fruits. The roots of the olive trees are banked round with the dark red loam, the narrow terraces, emerald tinted with the vines, are carefully shored up. But if the produce is hardly ;wen, its quality richly repays the toll of the husbandman. The grapes of Bethlehem are renowned for their opulent juiciness and delicate aroma. the figs for their size and lusciousness, the long, point- ed olives for their savor. Not that every house has its vine and fig tree. Between the tilth of the lower slopes and the white dwellings that crown the summit of the crescent hill for half its sweep there is a belt of scanty scrub and sheets of naked rock, and, in the village itself, the absence of verdure is a3 complete as in Cornhill. Save that every house has its window gar- den, where gay carnations spring from green beds of fragrant mint. The more tender dwellers in the orchard, too, the oranges and citrons of Jaffa, the nectarines and almonds of Shechem, have no hgme here. The yield is that of the mountain side, and Bethlehem is a mountain garden. The people also are a hill product, and, moreover, they possess racial characteris- tics which mark them off distinctly from the populations that surround them. These stalwart, fair-bearded men, with gray eyes, these _fair-complexioned, fresh-colored, plump women, are not of the gaunt brown- skinned race we have come through on our way hither. Not only in physique, but in dress and manners, the Bethlehem folk differ essen- tially from their neighbors. To a certain extent this is true of their language—a pe- culiar dialect. The Arabic of Bethlehem is not the Arabic of Jerusalem, although the two places are barely six miles apart. Mor- ally the gulf is yet wider. Those who wring a hard livelihood from the mountain are generally more sturdy and independent than the softer denizens of the plain, and this holds true of Palestine. But the mountain- eers fall off in the matter of courtesy. Take the rude, uncouth hillmen of Galilee and Samaria, for example. The Bethlehemite, however, combines courage with a gentle- ness all his own. He presents, indeed, a series of paradoxes: He is a mountaineer, yet refined; an Oriental, yet active and la- borious; un’ Arab, yet honest, He 1s thrifty to the point of parsimony, and he is apt to be turbulent. when he thinks he is wronged. But, with so many virtues in the opposite scal2, these faults may be regarded with in- duigence. His scrupulous cleanliness ‘in house and person must be accounted a pe- culiarity in the land he lives in, unhappily. Needless to say, he is healthy. Look at his rosy, flower-iike children. The buoyant ex- uberance of the youth of Bethlehem is re- freshing in the east. They are a rock- climbing, wrestling, agile race. The boys play leap frog. Down in Jaffa they would be smoking in the cafes or wrangling over cards, The girls are graceful, and the women, though their charms have a tendency to be- come ample, have invariably a light, elastic step and a dignified bearing. Their stateli- ness is increased by the high crown-like headgear, from which their white veils flow over their shoulders. The unmarried girls do not wear this, and their veil is precisely that of the conventional Madonna. Not a few faces met with among the winding street recall the Madonnas of the masters. Are these Bethlehem people the offspring of a crusading colony? We are unable to add another theory to the several which have been advanced to account for them. But they are among the pleasant memories of everal sojourns in Palestine. —--e-+—___. An Earnest Painter. From the Outlook. An eminent American artist, who is now an old man, has never forgotten the lesson he learned from Sir Frederick Leighton in his youth. Leighton was then a brilliant and fascinating young painter, whose fu- ture was still before him. He was at work upon an Italian landscape, or upon a pic- ture with an Italian background. In that background he was anxious to introduce an olive tree. He remembered a tree which he had seen in the south of Italy, and re- membered it quite distincily enough to re- produce it, but he was not content to trust his memory. The American artist remembers how Leighton came into a cafe in Rome on his way to southern italy, making the long journey from England for the express pur- pose of studying that olive tree and of taking home an exact sketch of it, and he remembers also how, four or five weeks later, the ardent young Englishman, bril- lant, enthusiastic, versatile, but witha capacity for taking pains, reappeared with a wonderful sketch of the olive tree, upon which he had spent days of unbroken ob- servation and work. From this little inci- dent the American student learned a les- son, which he never forgot, and which went far to secure the success which came to him in later life. The story illustrates the great quality which lies behind all real success, alike for the man of genius and the man of talent. A Little Surprise for the Parson. From Tit-Bits. A clergyman, wko was very particular about his personal appearance, went to preach in a country parish. Finding there was no glass in the vestry, and fearing his hair might not be quite as smooth as it should be, he asked the clerk if he could get him a glass. The man was gone some minutes, but at length returned and pro- duced a parcel very mysteriously from un- der his arm. To the astonishment of the clergyman, when it was opened it contained a bottle of whisky, with water and a tum- vIe¥ou mustn't let on about it, mister,” said the clerk, “for I got it as a great fa- vor, an’ I shouldn't ha’ got it at all, bein’ church hours, if I hadn't a-said it was for Jou.” ——_——+ee__ __ ‘Theories Concerning the Voice, ik ru #8. it RANDOM: VERSE. = 7 rhe Wi Ride. REGg? RST cote eee an night thee els the importunate tramp- Let cowards Ingkarf covert: sad ekarfo(tall back; but alert to t, grim ‘and «1 worn ga! + ‘With stirrap-cup te that loves him.) = ¢ The road is th and dread ‘There are shapes nd ent ‘What 2 We are bent on the ri Thought's self ts a vanishing wing, and joy a cob- ‘web, And friendship 2 flower in the dust, and glory a sunbeam; Not here is our ‘prize, por, alas!’ after these our pursuing. pe A dipping of plumes, a fear, a shake of the bridle, A passing salute to this world and her pititui at 7 sal We hurry, with never a word, in the track of our. fathers. 3 I hear in my heart, I hear Im its ominous: All day the commotion of sinéwy, pean All night from their cells the importunate tram] bg and weighing. = We spur toa land of no name, outracing the storm We leap to the infinite dark, lke the sparks from the anvil. 4 © God! All's well with thy troopers Now. I want no pledge Qf joys to be— No- false, uncertain vow; That friend, alone, is kind to me Who proves his friendship now. Life's changing year is brief, so brief, And I shall’ slumber long. When antumn binds the yellow sheaf, And winter ends the song. Then, sweetheart, ‘come today and bring Love's flower i perfect bloom; I shall not care what wreaths you Sing ‘Tomorrow on my tomb. ~—ANDREW DOWN! To a Dancer. Anne Virginia Culbertson in Munsey’s. u I watch you as om waves of sound You seem to softly sway end float; Your little feet searce touch the ground; I watch as by some weird spell bound— The music hath a wild, strange note, Your white arms o'er your head entwine, Your full, dark eyes are fixed on mi And as your lithe form bends and sways ‘A neme wells up from out the maze Of bygone things, and o'er my lips In half unconscious murmur slips, “‘Herodias! Herodies!”’ Thus she of old beapread her net And danced before the mighty king. Your red lips smile, and yet, and yet Methinks they are a trifle set. As purposing some cruel thing. The Bre your heavy Mds enfold me baleful purpose seems to hold. What car it be? Yet stay, 1 know! ‘The same as hers of long ago, Who for the king her net bespread— ‘Yor, inean a man shall lose his head, “Herodias! Herodias!"* ——_—>-_____. A Good Samaritan. S. E. Kiser in the Clevéland Leader, Lay him away, It matters not where; eykod deposlt hte fhe nd deposit him theres ‘Twill be useless toveateg. A shaft o'er his head, £ For heaven's aware™7) "4 Of the fact that he/s.dggat : Lowly his lot, on oo tumble his 8] EE iis 1@ world—the bi ld knew not That he ever was sent to minister here: He gathered no miljlona, le built up uo truste— Cornered no markets, ‘robbed no one of bread; Hig ralment was ragged) jhe lived upon crnste— But heaven's awafe of e fact that he's dead! Did he worship in chareti! a In the orthodox way? “y aa! the satiers at geat ‘3 it wy is turn to Alaa,'T kow not aS But let it be said t ‘hat en's aware, : 4 t deadt 5 Of the fact that he’ ‘The orphan he fanned) Through feverish days: May live or many. nots. To cherteh his raime; }. A nia Qi ub 5 The nick that he when strtekon-himself, The starving ‘that, when ‘he was: hungry. he fed. im Bow. or may not, ae.they:Msi— aware of the fact that he’s dead! Lay him away, Tt. matters. not where; Dig a hole in the earth : Who Are the Happy? _ From the London Times, Who are the happy, who are the free? You tell. me and in tell thee: who have tongues that never He, ‘Truth on the tp, truth In the eye; To Friend or to Foe, To all above and to all below: ‘These are the happy, these are the free, So may it be with thee and me. A Backlog Fancy. ‘The room is dim, the Jogs burn low, But in the fitful fiash T see Upon. the wall the sunbeams glow : igh the green branches of the tree. ‘The backlog sputters, a soyeats heats mer note, - waves of smoke aj ‘The blue pool of the wood remote, Then ike a. spirit, witching, gay, ‘Ascends 2. throbbing goldea ‘Spark— A fire-fly drifting on its ws ‘Across the lonely: marish dark. K, MUNKITTRICK. --—______ Hail to Our Country. Frank L. Stanton in the Atlanta Constitution, Across the land from strand to strand Loud ring the bugle notes, And freedoi isle to isle, 18. m’s smile, from ‘Ltke freedom’s ‘banner float One song—the nations hail the notes From sounding sea to sea, And answer from thetr thrilling throats ‘The song of Uberty! : ‘They answer and an echo comes From chairiéd ‘and troubled isles, And roars like ocean's thunder drums Where glad Columbia smiles. Hall to our country! Strong she stands, | ‘Nor fears the war drum’ $ ‘The sword of freedom in her hands, ‘The tyrant at her feet. ‘What is Levet Men talk of love that know not what it is; For could we know what love may be We would not hi led amiss ‘Triumph i ‘The only worker of the. And only the height of God s ae of trata vault our weather-. one gracious woman || y, fied. there are things that MILLINERS PIRATES | The Use of a Good Memory to Imitate Fine Hats. Famoss Artists in Feminine gear Tell How They Are Preyed Upon, Hena- From Tit-Bits. The people who exclaim against the high Price of really good millinery can, I think, have very Httle idea of the amount of thought, time and labor which is expended upon its production, remarked the man- ager of a famous West End establishment to the writer. To begin with, there is the design to be ade, and, in connection with this, I may tell you, we employ a large number of skilled artists, who do nothing else but draw designs for new bonnets and hats, and they make a very handsome income out of it. Then comes the question of taking and trimming, the latter especially being an art which requires not only skill, but great fertility of imagination and per- fect taste, and so rare is this combination of abilities that huge salaries have to be paid to such as possess it. The value of the actual materials used is very small mien compared with these two former items. But this, of course, is far too expensive @ procedure for second-rate firms, who, in- stead, employ the services of a “pirate,” whose duty it is to copy the designs of other firms, by fair means or foul. This is generally achieved by keeping a sharp eye cn the windows of the first-class houses, ard sketching everything new displayed there, the drawing being accompanied by descriptions of material. I know firms which make a constant practice of sending a “pirate” over to Paris every month, in order to obtain the latest modes in this way, and a week never passes without our own windows receiving this unwelcome ecmpliment. The best ‘‘milliners’ pirates” are women, those with a very retentive memory and an ability to draw. We are completely at the mercy of such, because they can get past the windows, and in the guise of a customer see our entire stock. There !s one woman in London now who must be making a fortune in this way. She is al- ways very stylishly dressed, and is to all appearances a very great lady. She makes a few smail purchases, and then asks to be shown the latest hats and bonnets. As a rule she leaves the shop without having “seen anything to please her,” and, arrived at home, she sits down and transfers to paper all she can remember—not a little— and sells the designs to another firm. I krow this woman well by sight, and have rather spoilt her game so far as we are concerned, for the assistants have strict orders not to show her quite the latest cencoctions. ———_-+e-+_____ AN EGYPTIAN NEWSPAPER OFFICE. Compositors and Pressmen in White Turbans and Bare Legs. G. W. Steevens in London” Mall. I went the other day to see the editor of an Arab newspaper in Cairo. His office is a disused palace; all new khedives build new palaces in this country, so that it is d:fficult to find 4 house of any size that has not begun life as a palace. In the middle wing sits the editor writing his leader—a string of Arabic cobwebs Gown a narrow slip of paper. The editor is a stout man in fez, blue serge and yellow elastic-sided boots, with two warts on his nose and a deep blue dimple on his chin; he writes in @ light overcoat and a rug over his knees, for it is a very cold winter—clouds half- way over the biue sky, and you must shut your windows by 5. He has just finished a slip of copy; he rmgs a bell, and there comes in a little brown-faced devil in a fez, blue gown, bare brown legs and slippers. “‘May you see the office? Of course’—and out we go to the left-hand wing of: the palace. Here are about “six bare - rooms, all open to the others; ‘the plaster-peeling here and there ‘Tron the high -walls. Here stand the cases of curly Arab type—bigger than ours, be- ‘cuise thé language ‘has more symbols; here are the: bare-legged ¢ompositors ‘at -work. In the next room the paper is going to press on the old-fashioned sort of ‘machine; as the white-turbaned, brown-legged, white bicyole-skirted native turns at the wheel for his life, the half-printed sheets swing {| slowly over, one after another, a maze of twirls and dots and’ quiggles that. you would say no man on earth could read. And not.many can. The sub-editors can, of course—four grave-faced young men in tke inevitable fez and overcoat, solemnly translating from the ‘Iimes; they salaam respectfully, and when the Englishman, | who looks as if he had meney, returns their salute, as being brother journalists, it sur- prises them much. “But,” says the editor, “our cireulation is as large as any in the east, but. not large enough to necessitate a Hef reer aes = five “pies A somet! ine this. It is difficult; De ee —+o+—___ A GOWN IN COLONIAL TIMES. ‘The Homespun Cloth and How It Was Frem the Chautanquan. The “‘all-wool goods a yard wide” which we so easily purchase today meant to the colonial dame or daughter’ the work of months from the time when the freshly sheared fleeeces were first given to her deft hands. The fleeces had to be opened with care, and have all pitched or tarred locks, brands, “dag-locks” and “feltings” cut out. These were spun into coarse yarn, to be used as twine. The white locks were care- fully tossed, separated and cleaned and tied into net bags with tallies to be dyed. Another homely saying, “dyed in the wool,” demanded a process of much skill. Indigo furnished the blue shades, and cochineal, madder and logwood beautiful reds. Domestic dyes of brown and yellow, from the bark of the red oak and the hickory-nut, were universal. Copperas and sassafras also dyed yellow; the flower of the goldenrod, “set” with alum, was the foundation, combined with indigo, of a beautiful green. Pokeberry juice and vio- let dye from the petals of the flower-de- luce were other home-made colorings. Af- ter the wools were dyed the housewife oil or melted “swine’s grease” to be carded —a trying process. At last the wool was carded into small, light, loose rolls, about as large around as the little finger, which were then spun into yarn. The yarn was wound upon a broach, which was stiff roll of paper or corn husk. When the the broach would hold, cf Babes Geese rage piletalittts 23 tesque cats and rabbits and other bits of clever modeling. Ibsen finds in their com- panionship a help and spur, and he ts em- phatic in saying that if they vanished he should produce no, plays. Jules Michelet, the French historian, a tremendous toiler through a long life 5 bad a strange love for the coarse boxes in which he kept his papers. He preserved them with him unchanged in his study for forty years. However red and be- grimed they might become, and this was inevitable, he would not have them chan; ed. Possibly their presence seemed to a: sist his flow of ideas. He was equaliy faith- ful to an old dilapidated table cover. Hoies and ink stains were not detrimenial to Its value in Michelet’s eyes. In the case of Haydn, the composer, a ring was the fetich. If he had it upon his finger he could think brilliantly; if he miss- ed it, all his skill seemed gone. He often declared that without this trinket he was curiously dull. He might sit down to an instrument, but all creative vower, he would find, had departed from him. —+o2+—___. HE FLED IN FRIGHT. Remarkable Experience of a Hotten- tot With the German La: nguage. From the Critic. If any one in speaking to you used the word Hottentotenstrotiertrottermutterat- tentaeterlatten gitterwetter kotterbeute- latte, its harmonious sound would assure you that it was German, and such it really is, being taken from a Dresdeh paper, Der Weidmann. Here is thé explanation of it: Among the Hottentots (Hottentotten) the kangaroos (beutelratte) are very numerous. Many of them roam about the country, free and respected; others, less fortunate, are caught and shut up in a cage (kotter) furnished" with a cover (lattengitter), which shelters them from bad weather. ‘These are then called, in German, lattengitter- wetterkotter, and the kangaroo, once im- prisoned, takes the name of lattengitter- wetterkotterbeutelratte. One day an as- sassin (attentaeter) was arrested. who had Killed the Hottentot mother (Hottentoten- mutter of *wo children, one half-witted, the other a stammerer (strottertrottel), This mother, in the German tongue, is designated by the word Hottentotenstrat- tertrottelmutter, from which it follows that the assassin takes the name of Hotten- totenstrottertrottelmutterattentaeter. ‘The murderer was shut up in a kangaroo cage (beutelrattenlattengitterwetterkoiter), from which he shortly escaped. But, fortunately, he soon fell into the hands of a Hottentot, who went joyously to the mayor of the village, exclaiming: “I have caught the beutelratte!” “Which one?” asked the mayor; “we have several.” “The attentaeterlattengitterwetterketter- beutelratte.” “Of which attentaeter are you speaking’ “Of the Hottentotensirottertrotielmutter- attentaeter.” “Then why couldn't you say at once that you had caught the Hottentoten strotter- trottel mutterattentaeteriattengitterwetter- kotterbeutelraite?” It is said that the Hottentot fled in af- fright. ———+e+___ SLEEP AND DREAMS, How Agassiz Worked Out a Scientific Problem. W. J. Stillman in London Spectator. The letters on sleep and dreams in the Spectator remind me of a case in the ex- perience of Agissiz, and which he told me himself, though it is recorded in his work on the American fishes. He was studying a fossil fish in the Jardin des Plantes, but had never been able to determine the species to his satisfaction. After a time he dreamed that he caught the very fish, and without difficulty determined the ques- tion, thinking, as he woke from the dream, that he would now have no difficulty. But on returning to the fossil, something in the dream had escaped him, and he could no more determine the species than before. The next night he had the same dream, and again forgot the essential point. He then determined to take a pencil and paper with him to bed, and make his note as soon as he awoke. The dream came the third time, but to his surprise on fully awakening he found the drawing made and lying on the table at his bedside, with three bones displayed in it which were not visible in the fossil, and which solved the problem. On returning to the Jardin des Plantes he obtained permission of his friend, the.director, to chip away a scale of, stone which Jay on the spot where the bones were in the drawing, and found them there as his drawing had given them. It is thirty years since Agassiz told me the incident, but those who have access to his history of the North American fishes will be able to read it in his own words in the introduction, and correct my version if my memory has in any detail failed me. ———_+ e+ ____ Sales of the Bibie. From Harper's Weekly. The circulation of the Bible in this coun- try is enormous, steady, and constantly in- creases. Of Bibles and Testaments the American Bible Society annually sells or gives away about a million and a half, the International-Bible Agency sells about half @ million, and other large concerns, of which there are four or five in New York alone, circulate a great many more. With such a @istribution as that in constant op- eration, one would think the demand would presently be supplied, but that is not the experience of dealers. They say the de- mand increases all the time. That must be because two or three million new cit- izens are born covery year in the United States, and a large proportion of them presently get new Bibles. The idea of starting a new citiz2n in life with a second- hand Bible is not popular. “New boy (or new girl), new book,” is the rule, and tolerably fortunate children have a fair collection be- fore they are grown up. A moderate al- lcwance of the sacr2d writings for one American citizen includes one family Bible that belonged to parents; one family Bible for one’s own family; one Testament in. used in childhood; one conven- ient Bible, presented by mother; one Bible in flexible covers, subsequently obtained; at least one obsol2te Bible, containing the Apocrypha; one Testament, revised ver- sicn; the Book of Psalms, separate; a few Bibles to be kept in church; an office Bible, and perhaps others. + 2+ —____ ‘Where the Needle Points East. From the London Standard. : Observations were taken over a strip of country between Moscow and Kharkoff, or extreme points, north and south, distant from one another as the crow flies about eight hundred and fifty miles. The great- est aberrations are found in, the province of Kursk, the capital town of which is some six hundred miles almost due south of Mos- In the northern part of the province, A.New Year calm seemed to have fallen, upon e certain village not twenty miles from Lordon as three American tourists strolled through it. Not a soul was abroad, Save the geese and fowls on the common. given ingress to block the way or mar i i ees i WINTER IN NORWAY The Exhilaration of Riding on the Swift Spidsslaede. LIVELY PASTIMES ON SNOW AND ICE Coasting on a Grade of 700 Feet to the Mile. A HAIR-LIFTING EXPERIENC Ghristiania Letter to the New York Post. A Norwegian’s sleighing is commonly done in “spidssiaeder,” conveyances which, to the benightec foréigner, have their Grawbacks. A spidsslaede is a small, low- hung, sharp-pointed cutter, somewhat re- sembling a swanboat on runners. Its body is built to bold but one person—a passen- ger. The driver, poor man, sits behind, quite out in the cold, on a little leather perch, like a bicycle saddle, which is sup- Ported by slender tron rods rising from the runners. Superficially considered, this may seem an unfair division of comforts. But if the wretched driver's legs are dragged through snow drifts or soused in mud pud- dies, the face of the devoted passenger is as surely stung by particles of broken ice or spattered with dirty water, as the horse's hoofs send the one or the other flying backward over the insufficient dash- board. Even in the hands of the most careful whip, the reins, passing as they do through the dashboard ring straight across the center of the sleigh, will, occasionally slap the passenger's ears in a peculiarly disconcerting manner. Regardiess of these trifles, the Christia- nians seem reaily to rejoice in their uncom- fortable little vehicles. For pure pleasure they choose them rather than the most luxurious foreign-born sleigh, and as a di- version “'spidsslaeder” parties are much the fashion. On such occasions a long train of “spidssiaeder” assembles early in the after- noon at some convenient point in the city, a rosy, blue-eyed, yellowed-haired Froken Svanhild or Thyra or Dagny, snugly bun- died in bearskin rugs, occupying each cut- ter, while Lieut. This or Candidate That balances on the perch behind. Thence they start away in single file, to the music of clinking bells, far out over the snow to some country house or cheerful inn, where @ fine hot dinner is prepared for them. Disposing of this, they dance until thee have danced enough, then take to their tete-a-tete sledges once more, and so back through the sparkling star-light night to the sooty, fog-blanketed city. Pony Races, For use on the ice the spidsslaeder are Provided with a depressable knife - edged blade, set close beside and parallel to one runner, to be jammed down by the foot of the river in case the sledge tends to “make leeway” on sharp curves. Each Minter a spidssiaede race for native ponies is held on the frozen fjord near Christiania, A-large circular course is laid out, and hundreds of ponies—pretty, stocky animals, with black and white hogged manes and with coats of every shade of yellow, from creamy to deep orange brown—are entered by their peasant owners; for these sturdy, long-enduring little beasts are seldom used, except as draught horses, by others thar. the peasantry. To the ordinary spectator nothing could be less interesting than such races—unless, indeed, he is interested in Studying their singular perversity. Of the dozen or more ponies on the track at a given moment no two are started together, as many are run from “right to left as from left to right, and not, the slightest attention is paid to the weight of the driver, who may be a slip.ef a lad in brief, frieze jacket, or an aldermanic giant bundled to the ears in heavy wolfskins. As @ result one would think that even the timekeepers themselves could hardly be the wiser for the proceedings. But in the kjaelkeagning—the kjaclke- coasting—is some compensation of excite- ment, A kjaelke is a low, moderately heavy wooden sled, primarily intended for the use of fishermen on the ice and built to carry two or four persons. The steerer sits at the rear end, astride, guiding by means of a stout, flexible sapling pole twelve or more feet long, which, clamped under one arm and in both hands, he drags along the track behind him. The passenger lies flat on his back, his lead on the steerer’s knees, trusting to luck and the Jaw of gravitation to keep him there, since he has neither rope nor rail nor any other thing to hold to. The Coasters’ Paradise. Just behind Christiania city rises a steep hill, Frogner Saeter. This is the kjaelke paradise, for all winter long the govern- ment reserves there exclusively for coast- ers and ski-runners a certain excellent four-mile road, winding, partly in a zigzag, from base to summit. No vehicles are even surface. It is a stiff climb from tl town up, but one grows used to stiff climbs in Norway, and, moreover, the dragon- roofed “sport room" perched at the top, with its great crackling birch log fire and its barbarous old Norsk interior decora- tions, offers a resting place as cozy as quaint, where good hot coffee, chocolate and other comfortable things are to be had for refreshment. The coast starts from the “sport room” door. Fancy yourself embarking for the first time, stretched face upward on a nar- row board, your hands lying useless at your sides, nothing to grasp anywhere about that can be of the least service to ou. The steerer is in his place behind. “Are you ready?” he asks, and gives a lit- tle shove with his pole, whereupon the board begins to move gently with slow gliding. This, you think, is going to be delightful. The pace gradually accelerates —faster, faster! You begin to feel ner- vous, to wonder just what would happen if you shot off, almost to wish you had Stayed at home; and then by degrees the speed drops. to comfortable moderation. You regain your composure, and, sincerely trusting that your companion does: not guess how scared you have been, devote your mind to enjoying the situation and to admiring the landscape. Safe at Last. But before you have fairly realized how very odd that landscape looks, seen from the bottom up, and all flying, the kjaeike reasserts itself. Dangling for one sicken- ing moment in the air—whizz!—it is off, tearing down what appears to your star- tled wits an angle of forty-five degrees. This is the upper end of the zigzag; for the next mile or more you are to be switch- bout snapped around curves ed al corners, a “ and spun along the pices at a rate = = literally gd 2 truck let loose at the Lop @ runaway ERABETE tate Pe tei ? Hr si #