Evening Star Newspaper, March 26, 1898, Page 14

Written for The Evening Star. The coming watermelon season prom- ises to be an unusually extensive one,” ex- plained a New York tf buyer who is in Washington temporarily, on his return from @ southern tour, to Star reporter, “and I would not be surprised if there were lots of nice watermelons in the market here by the last week in April. I have traveled extensively in Florida and Georgia, and I fcund that there are .enormously large ps planted. The vines in Florida are al- ready strong and large, and they are ‘run- ning’ very lively in Georgia also. The Flerida meions will reach the markets of the north probably two weeks in advance of those from Georgia, though the latfer will he here almost. before the time the seeds are planted in those parts of Mary- land and Virginia which later on supply the Washington and surrounding markets. ‘The Florida melon growers are doing bet- ter every year in the ki ruit they send north. Originally thi very thin-rind melon, which, while 1t was good crough eating, did not ship well. They this as well as those who handled fruit, but they could not help h is compact enovgh and any Tea- ble amount of shipping and ha: . it does net compare the f cating, a very important m , with the melo wn in Geo: gia. Maryland and Vir melon is sweeter than the Georgia melon, though it never com with it in size or too! ons to any . imitin the num- Ler of melon ‘They pull off alt | the buds exee two or three and find they | get more for two or three big melons than | they ceuid for a dozen medium sized ones. Putting the entire strength of the vine into two or three melons, they get a re- sult that will stand any amount of han- dling. I visited a melon farm last week in Geergia, which shipped over two hundred :rloads of melons north last season. It is one hundred and ten acres in extent. While | I did not visit it, I know of a farm there are over two hundred |. probably or nearly all n in that state are farms. So sportation as muc road tracks | The peopie in Wash! meions in two de e they are cut from the iE] 2 ES may be pleasant news to | that they will. on account | competition for the trade, have for the fruit D. an during au The metons are constant- previous iy ng better, larger and cheaper. #4 4 * * “Photography has reduced the difficulties | in law suits and trials to a minimum,” re- marked a member of the bar to the re- porter ‘in times past it was the univer- sal custom in murder trials to take the juries to the scenes of the crime, so that they could get a better understanding of the testimony and the facts in the case. sides the time involved, there was con- derable expense in this. There were, you know, elabo:at2 diagrams, drawings and sketehes constantly used in important triais. All this is now done away by the photograph, which is always accurate. In copies of exhibits in civil causes, ae wills and the like, the blue nt has done away entirely with the ser- of the draughtsmen who were em- Pioyed to reproduce the same. I remember | Hl the celebrated trial of General Daniel | a representa’ Sickles, then from New York, for the murder of Phil Barton Key, Who was the United States district attor- ney. The pictorial exhibits in this trial ost filled one of the walis of the court ise. The which th club ho in the front of shooting occurred, now the site of the Lafayette Square Opera House, was, of course, the principal picture. Then there was 4 drawing of Lafayette Square, sho ing how Key signaled over to Mrs. Sickle who resided on the opposite side of that da big drawing of the house on between K a treets where | between Colonel Key and | took place, as well as the sig- nails which were displayed on the house indicating to Key whether or not Mrs. | s had arrived there. Besides these | other pict and s | which were prepared by Mr. Wm. For: ae » city surveyor. They cost con: ‘able | money, but the whole thing could new be | better represented at the expense of 2 couple of dollars and ten minutes’ use of known of hundreds of | being ex in the preparation similes of exhibits, forgeries, ete., of fac all of which can now be reproduced in a half hour a@ very trifli the blue-print process and at expense comparatively.” * e * # “In time leap year wil ence entirely,” explained an almanac com- puter to a Star reporter, “but as it will not r for over eight hundred years, we haven't much personal interest in the event. In the ordinary course of even‘- Ima) would be leap year, but it will g left in the calculation. In other words, while it does occur, it does not occur, simply be- cause it is not in the agreement that it shall oceur. The story is a long one, but n be briefly told, so that tae averag can understand it, without much difficulty. In 1582, im the arrangement of ! the Julian calendar, ten days were dropped so as to get things running on the then but the present basis of calculating So as to keep things running right, determined that a year enuing a century should not be bissextile, except every fourth century. Thus there was no leap year in 1700, 1800 nor 1900. It is rather, or at b jt was, rather rough on the ludies who have special advantages in leap year, for it is the only year that it is proper fer them to propose themselves in marriage, but it has always been so in watters affecting womankind, men always find reasons for restricting their privileges. The ladies get left again in 1900, but sh there will not be many of those who ”) who will see 2000, the latter year a fourth century, will be a leap year. way, three days are retrenched in go out of exist- eee four centuries, and the remaining seven days will be made up in a Kittle over eight hundred years. After that calendar years will be like solar years and future errors in the calculation of time will occur no more. The loss ef leap years will in thou- sands of years affect the seasons, but I suppose the mathematicians of the cen- turies hence will be so flip in handling fig- ures and making calculations that they will have no difficulty in keeping things « -ing correct) «eee . “There are some advantages in having endhead privileges with the telegraph com- penies.” observed an operator to 2 Star re- porter, “but these privileges work both ways, for and against thore who have them. The man or woman who send a paid mes- e, has the satisfaction of knowing that at any time he or she destres they can com- pel the telegraph company to produce the criginal message, as also a record of its proper trarsmission and delivery. Under the laws of the companies originals of all messages are kept, and can be hunted up without much difficulty—that is, for a rea- sonable number of years. It is not so, how- ever, with deadheads. Such messages are never kept beyond three months and the cempanies do not guarantee even that ameunt of preservation at all times, though | ordinary cross-examination. ja | skilled enough in advanca to assume an | 3 three months is the general rule. Some time since a well-known representative in Congress, in trying to square himself with his constituents, who had charged him with neglecting their interests, attempted to disprove the charge by proving that he not only attended to the matter, but had actually telegraphed a few days after he had received the request to attend to their business—an application for an increase of the appropriation for a public building— that he had the matter well in hand and would probably succeed if any pubiic build- ing appropriation bills got through. It was denied that he had made any such an an- He thought he had a perfect de- se, and said he would not only produce his telegram, but the receipt of the person wkom it was sent to. Of course, he was considerably surprised when he looked into the matter, which had occurred over a year before, to find that as he had a dead- head pass on the telegraph company they did not feei compelled to violate their rule in bis case, and had destroyed all record of it. That fact defeated the renomination of the congressman. He found, as many others have found, that all that glitters is not gold. Had he paid for his telegram the ——- eompany would have preserved it KAR RHF “I have observed on3 thing very fre- quently in my long connection with the courts,” remarked an old court bailiff to a Star reporter,“‘and that is that lawyers who take advantage of psychological principles in conducting cz -ss-examinations of wit- nesses meet with — uch b2iter success in the courts than those who are ignorant of, or who do not observe them. Now take the i It is not al- ways the effort of a lawyer to bring out more facts than were brought out in the di- rect examination and to see that the addi- tional facts are in favor of his client. In many instances the purpos> of a cross-ex- amination is to muddle and befuddle a wit- ness So aj to counteract the effect of his di- r testimony before a jury; to show the Jury that he is not as reliable or that his rec- ollection of the facts is not as good as it should be. The ordinary witness has not as much intellig2nce as the ordinary law- yer, and certainly has not as much knowl- edge in presenting his evidence, as the skilled cross-examiner has in making him appear mixed up, uncertain and evasiv Advantag> is taken of the witness in every wa His surroundings are unusual, and he is, except in rare instances, excited to a greater or less degree. This excitement cperates against th2 witness, who while outside of a court room he might be clear enough in expression or description is just thi u moment he enters the ness ch The psychological study— the magnetic relation—involved is the po- sition tne witness and the cross-examiner bear to each other. The witness is in all cases while the successiul cross-ex- amin, takes a seat, but conducis his examination standing. It is wonderful what influence a man standing has over one who is sitting, though in the greater number of instances th2 witness is entirely unconscious of 1t. Should the same witness who is being badly nagged by a cross-ex- aminer stand up he can defend himself much better and appear at a less disad- vantage. The sam2 thing is illustrated in our churches every day and night. What preacher or lecturer or public speaker of our day, or any day, could influence a con- gregation or audience so that they would practically hang on his words if the con- ditions were changed; that is, if the audience or congregation stood up and the speaker, lectur2r or preacher was seated. There is probably not one man in the coun- try who would effectually make a public utterance under such circumstances. But having the psychological conditions his way, he standing. the listeners seated, he has in- calcuable advantages. I have seen the best kind of business men knocked endwise by second-class cross-examiner, who was opposi air of superiority in an intellectual way, and then to stand up while he plied the sitting witness with questions. If both were sitting, and were considering a busi- ress or legal matter as a business propo- sition, the business man, if he had any atility at all, would get the best of the argument or transaction. My idea should not be carried as far as the judge, how- ever. He is sitting, of course, while the advocate before him is standing. But th> ize has the psychological principle in his favor. He starts in with an assumption of superiority, maintains it, and gives evi- dence of it, by occupying a chair on an elevated platform.” ee SHE WAS FROM CHICAGO. And the Way She Could Sling Slang Was a Caution. “On Sunday afternoon last I went for a walk on Connecticut avenue with my wife and one of her old school friends, a pretty young married woman from Chicago, who is visiting us,” said a citizen to a Star man. “Our visitor wore a swell costume—an E glish walking dress, I believe it’s called—- with a lot of braid and things on it. It was really a stunning dress, and unique, too, for I take notice of women's clothes since I got married, and I certainly hadn't seen any frock quite 80 swagger as this black ress that our Chicago visitor arrayed her in for the promenade. Well, the.dres: certainly attracted attention. Women com- ing the other way would begin to inspect tle cut of the dress when they we bleck off, and they just riveted their gaze on it as they jassed by our party. Our guest from Chicago enjoyed their inspec- tion of the costume hugely. She expressed her enjoyment over the sensation she was creating in characteristic Chicagoese. Three young women more than craned their necks to size up the furbelows on the dress. “ ‘Now, will you get next to those girls a-rubber-necking at this blanket of mine!’ she broke out, laughingly, as the girls pass- ed by, and, say, do you know, it didn’t pon half so bad as it does when I say —————n ~ Story of a Boston “Tip.” Ierom the Goston Herald. In a fashionable restaurant the other evening a lady and gentleman. were din- ing before going to an uptown theater. They had been beiated in arriving, and their order was consequently small and hastily consumed. Handing the waiter a * bill for the check, he was requested to hurry, but as he did not return with the $2 change, nor could he be seen anywhere in the room, the gentleman beckoned to another waiter and told him to look up the other. After a still longer delay the first waiter, looking glum enough, reappeare’ cn the scene. “Where is my change?” said the gentleman. ‘You told me to keep the change,” returned the waiter, with a surly air. Here the lady took’a hand. “You're mistaken,” she said. “It is not likely that the fee should be $2 when you leave us to put on our own wraps.” So the fellow drew the $2 from his pocket, and the gentleman, not wishing to make further trouble, gave him the customary quarter and departed. Every one knows the course that should have been pursued, but with not two. seconds te spare peopie cannot stop to make complaints at head- querters, and this the wily waiter under- stood quite well. is ee eee A Tulip Festiva Tulips are cultivated in Constantinople, and there is a tulip festival there once a year in spring. Every palace, room, gal- lery and garden is decorated with tulips of every kind. At night they are all lighted by colored lamps and Bengal fires, and the sultan sits in their midst, while women sing ae him and his odalisques dance before im. A Queue-rious Way to Catch Fish. From Fliegende Blatter, half a | SAW THE MOVING PICTURES The red man {fs slowly but surely becom- ing civilized, according to the standards of the nineteenth century. In spite of him- self he is succumbing to the refining in- fluences and is being made to recognize the marvels of the age as produced under the inventive genius of the pale face. The one touch of civilization which was needed to make ‘him akin to his white brother was his introduction to the ‘moving pictures. This has come, and the stories of Indian outbreaks and uprising8 may hereafter be stamped as fakes on their faces. Two Indian braves who are visiting in the city of the Great White Father walked up Pennsylvania avenue one night recently. They had visited the Vesuvius at the navy yard and had shown some little interest in it, They had even gone so far as to chris- ten it “Big White Canoe with the Yellow Snakes,” The chiefs walked up the avenue, when their attention was attracted to some fig- ures, like shadows from the sun, thrown on the side of a large brick building on one side of the street. First was shown a sort ef park with trees. This elicited a grunt of approval. They had perhaps seen a missionary exhibit a magic lantern at a Christmas entertainment and were prepar- ed to permit themselves to be treated to an encore. Much to their consternation and even fear, from their appearance, the fig- ures of horses trotting along in the air as if it was an everyday or every-night per- formance greeted their vision. The horses trotted over the space and disappeared. The stolid looks forsook the faces of Pain- in-the-Tooth and his brother, Talks-in-His Sleep. They pointed excitedly at the wall and cast uneasy glances. They doubtless called the occurrence “‘Horses-That-Gallop- on-the-Wigwam-Tops.”” The pale face must be a peculiar fellow, they reasoned, when as valuable a thing as a horse could be allowed to break its neck over a precipice without causing at least a little excitement. Then came the girl who smokes a cigar- ette. She waved her arms and smiled be- witchingly at the Indians and threw them a lot of things that never reached them. The red men viewed her plainly as a ghost and literally shook in their shoes. Other pictures came and wert. Until the exhibi- tion closed the two stood as immovable as cigar store Indians, eyes riveted on_the fearful, but enchanting, apparition. When there were no more they moved quickly down the avenue, as if they were afraid the spirits frem the kappy hunting grounds would follow them. They had seen the thirg once, but it was certain they could not be persvaded to again indulge in such awful visions. The sight cf the Indians watching the pictures attracted many pedestrians on the avenue, and caused no little amusement. If they could hava been persuaded to be interviewed on the subject their ideas would have doubtless been valuable to eth- nclegists. Se The Grooms Story. (Copyright, 1898, by A. Conan Doyle.) Ten mile in twenty minutes! 'E done it, sir. That's true. The big bay ‘orse in the further stall—the one wot's ext to you. I've seen some better ‘orses; I've seldom seen a wuss, But ‘e ‘olds the bloomin’ record, an’ that’s good enough fur us. We knew as it was in ‘Im. ’E’s thoroughbred, three part. We bought ‘im for to race ‘im, but we found ’e no “eart; For ‘¢ was sad and thoughtful, and amazin’ digni- led, It seemed a kind 0° liberty to drive "im or to ride; For 'e never seemed a-thinkin’ of wot * But ‘is thoughts were set on mirin’ of the view. ‘E looked a puffeck pictur, and a pictur ‘e would stay, "E wouldn't even switch ‘is tail to drive the files away. ‘ad to do, ‘igher things, xd- And yet we knew ‘twas in ‘im; we knew as 'e could fly; But wot we couldn't git at was ‘ow to make ’im try. We'd dimost turned the Job up, until at last one day We got the last yard out of ‘im in a most amazin’ way. It was all along o’ master; which master ‘as the name Of a reg'lar true blue sportsman, an’ always acts the same; But we all "as weaker moments, which master ‘e ‘ad one, An’ ‘e went an’ bought a motor-car when motor- cars beguu. T sced it in the stable yard—tt fairly turned. me sick— ‘A greasy, wheexy engine, ax can neither buck nor You've a screw to drive it forrard, and a screw to make it stop, For it was fouled in a smithy stove an’ bred in a blacksmith shop. It didn’t want no stabl It didn’t need no no! room. Jast Al It up with parcffin an’ It would go all day. Which the same should be agin the law if I could "ave my way. Well, master tcck ‘Is motor-car, an’ moted ’ere an’ it didn't ‘there, A frightenin’ the ‘orses an’ a poisonin’ the alr. *H wore a bloomin’ yachtin’ cap, but Lor’l wot did "e know, Excep’ that if you turn a screw the thing would stop or go? An’ then one day it wouldn't go. 'E screwed an’ crewed again, But somethin’ jammed, an’ there ’e stuck in the mud of a country lane. It ‘urt ‘is pride most cruel, but wot was ‘e to do? So at last ’e bade me fetch a ‘orse to pull the motor through. This was the 'orse we fetched ‘im; an’ when we reached the car, We braced him tight’ and proper to the middle of the bar, And buckled up his traces and lashed them to each side, While “e “¢ dignifie: d ‘is ‘ead so ‘aughtily, an’ looked most Not bad tempered, mind you, but kind of pained and vexe seemed ‘te 88} Well, bli" me! wot will they ask me nex I've put up with some Uberties, but this caps all by far, ‘To be assistant engine to a crocky motor-car An’ Well, master 'e was In the car, a-fiddlin’ with the gear, And the ‘forse was meditatin’, and I was standin’ hear, When master ‘2 touched somethin’—wot it was we'll never know— But it sort o” spurred the boiler up and made the engine go. “Old ‘ard, old gal!” says master, and “Gently then!”” says 1, But an engine won't ‘eed conxin’ an’ it ain't no use to try; So first ‘e pulled a lever, an’ then ’e turned a screw, Bat the thing kept crawlin’ forrard spite of all that 'e could do. And first it went quite slowly and the ‘orse went also slow, Bat ‘e ‘ad to. buck up faster when the wheels be- in to go; For the car kept crowdin’ on ‘Im and buttin’ *im wloug, And in jess than ‘arf a minute, sir, that ’orse was goin’ strong. At first "e walked quite dignified, an’ then ‘e ‘ad to trot, And then 'e’tried a canter when the pace hecame too ‘ot, ‘KE looked "Is very ‘aughtiest, as if ‘e didn’t mind, And all the tue the motor-car was pushin’ ‘im be'ind. Now, master lost ‘is ‘ead when ‘e found ‘¢ couldn't atop, An’ ‘e.pulled a valve or somethin’ an’ somethin’ else went pop, An’ somethin’ else went fizzywiz, and in a flash, or less, ‘That blessed car was goin’ like a limited express. Master “qui the sfestin| gear-/ail kept tho zoel! all ight, And away. they wizsed and clattered—my auntt it was a aight, "E weemed the finest draught ‘orse as ever lived by far, For all the country Juggins. thought ‘twas "Im wot pulled the car. ‘E was stretchin’ Uke a grey’ound, 'e was goin’ all knew, But it pure Hee shoved be’ind ‘im, for all that fe col F Te batted Time an’ boosted ‘im an’ spanked ‘tm on ahead, ‘THM 'e broke the ten-mile record, same as I al- ready said. Ten mile in twenty minutes! "E done it, sir. ‘That's true. ‘The only time we ever found what that ‘ere ‘orse could do. Some say it wasn't ‘ardly fair, and the papers But ‘e broke the ten-mile record, and that’ 'e s enough for us. ee You see that ‘orse's tail, air? You don’t! No more do we, ‘Which really ain't surprisin’, for ‘e ‘as no tail to see; That engine wore it off “lm before master made stop, And all the road was littered bloomin’ bar- ‘ber's shop. ae reese A Well, it cured "im. 'E altered from i And come bick to ‘is ‘orses in the good old-fash- And wre vate to get the sack, the quickest, Is to: "int as ‘ow you think "e ought to keep a vpn A. CONAN DOYLE. King Leopold’s latest acquisition is Ty will ehortly use It O8 the public hist: ways of his capital. % “Newspaper men always seem to me to be such entrancingly mysterious things, yeu know,” said the beautiful Washington maiden to “oné of "em. “I never get through wonde! just how they do—how they find out these queer things that we read in the papers, you know. Now, I sup- pose you just walk around, and when you see anything or hear something, you just write it down and have it printed in your Paper—isn’t that the way it’s done?” “Precisely. None of us have any boss, top man, head-knocker, or anything like that, of course. Do just as we please, ail of us. Never gel any instructions from enybody. When we want to write we just write, and what we write goes. We don’t Pay any attention at all, you krow, to the eéitor, the managing editor, the city editor and all the rest of that crew. Just do any- thing we like, write anything we like, roast arybody we like (or don’t like, rather), and have a deuce of a good time all around. Now, I'm a reporter, you see. Well, here’s about an average day for me: “I get up about 11 o'clock in the forc- neon, after having taken chocolate ani a roll in bed, and put myself in the hands of me man. Me man finishes shaving ine and fixing me up within an hour, and by noon, after critically surveying me all over, he turns me loose the thing of beauty that you see before you. On my way down town—I always waik for the sake of the exercise—I_ am usually detained a bit by simptuously attired ladies who can't re- sist the temptation to stop their carriages when they see me, in order to find out what's really taking place inthe upper strata. Before going. on down to the office I usually drop in for a minute or so upon Mr. McKinley, wno generously refrains from embarrassing me by commenting at too great length upon how much he liked my stuff in yesterday’s paper. I nod heughtily to the managing editor as 1 pass into my suite of orientally furnisHed offices, and spend ten minutes or so in serting over the pile of scented, violet- hued notes that always await my atten- ticn. By this time there's usually word in the office that an atrocious murder has Leen committed, somewhere over in ihe Umptheast. I stroll over to the scene of tke crime—stopping at my florist’s for a fresh boutonntere on the way—and get the facts. Then I return to the office in a brougham, sent after me by the managing eGitor, and dictate what I’ve ascertained about the murder to a 300-words-a-minute shorthand man. If the murder hasn't been quite bad enough to suit my sanguinary testes, I touch it up a whole lot and make it look pretty bad for all hands mixed up in it. Then I smoke a couple of Persian cigarettes in the seclusion of my olive- and-gold office, tossing off a leading edi- torial or so upon the Cuban question or Hawaiian annexation as I smoke, just 10 keep from being bored. “My trap is at the door of the office by this time, and I step into it and permit my- self to be whirled up to the Capitol. I move around among the legislators for an hour or so, warding off their eager inquiries as to what's going on at the executive man- sion as best I can. I treat them ali im- partially, so as not to excite jealosy among them. After a half-hour siesta, during which I recline on a morocco leather couch in one of the Senate's committee rooms, I em tooled back to the office, where I tind the managing editor somewhat wrought up because all of the reporters have declined to go to a big fire a few blocks away be- cause it’s raining. To save the managing editor and the city editor both from losing their jobs, I volunteer to go and ‘cover’ the fire, and they overwhelm me with their grateful thanks. Then I rest my mind by writing a few brilliant short editorial par- agraphs. If there's a big criminal trial in progress, I take a run over to the court house to see that the judge is conducting the case so that the man the paper wants cenvicted shall be convicted. On leaving the court house, feeling the need of a bit of recreation, I ysdally hail a cab and at- tend one or ®wo “burnt-orange or cerise teas given by legation ladies or cabinet ministers’ daughters. I have to be on my mettle on thefe occasions, forall of the la- dies depend upon me for the latest esoteric information on literature, art and good form. By thig-ttmg I am’ somewhat wea- ried; so I generailgetefephone to the editor that I'll not @etum@ to-the office, and in- struct him toZlet 46 knew by special mounted mesdenger df “anything big hap- pens—addresshig: mg, ofcourse at the Elite Club, whered have-me chambers. “Then I ¢9 1ere and make my devoirs to s@itanically heaven- Why, hi ly!” exclaimé&the btautifyl maiden. “And how deep yot Imust have to be!” —— BURIAL PLACE OF PATRICK HENRY. Not in Richurond, but in Charlotte, » Where He Lived. From the Philadelphia Press. Every now and then we see in some newspaper the query, “Where is Patrick Henry buried?” and tourists in Richmond constantly ask to b2 shown his grave, with the mistaken idea that it is in that city, where much of his public career was pass- ed. Few people, comparatively, know that the man who acquired the title of “The Tongue of the R:volution” lies in a quiet grave on the estate in Charlotte county where he formerly Kved. Over him ts a marble slab inscribed with the one line: “His Fame His Best Epitaph.” The esiate lies on the Staunton river, thirty-cight miles from the town of Lynch- burg, near the border line which separates Chariotie and Campbell counties. It d2- rived {ts name of Red Hill from the pe- culiar color of the soil in that vicinity. When Patrick Henry bought the place it comprised about 3,500 acres. The land is rich—there was a saying in the n2ighbor- hood that poor Jand and Henry could never be mentioned together—corn grows there as high as # man on horseback; there is a general air of smiling fields and abundant prosparity. Its situation in early times was very remote. Neighbors were few, one of the nearest being the celebrated John Ran- dolph of Roanoke, who lived in his chosen solitud> fifteen miles away. Red Hill is now owned by.Henry’s grand- son, William Wirt Henry, a clever, culti- vated gentleman of the “old school.” He has in nis possession some most interesting relics of his celebrated grandfather, in- cluding the desk the always used, which stil! contains his letters from Lafayette, Wash- ington, Madison and other great men of early days; the large, round-backed chair in which Patrick Henry died, and a portrait ot him by the elder Sully, under which hangs a yellowed slip of paper signed by Chief Justice John Marshall and several others of his friends, testifying to the faithfulness of the likensss. -eee. Jail Prisoners Making HKelics. Brom the London Standard. Perhaps the explanation of the origin ‘of the large number of mummies that have latterly been offered for sale may be found in an article by. Dr. Ebers in the Allge- meine Zeitung, in which collectors are warned against the mummy masks which have latterly been freely offered to dealers. Some of thesé! spetimens, which are so skillfully got 7 they might deceive the very elect, have been carefully exam- ined, with the result that the wood has been shown torbeanltraces of the saw and the colors to -be mixed with oil; whereas the ancient Egyptians would have used a knife and wax. More disquieting still is the statement+entirely uncorroborated, -it is true—that sincesthe British occupation the prisoners in all the khedive’s goals have been almgst gxclusively employed in producing sh: curios. After trying their *prentice hands on rabael, frontlets and bronze statuettes, the criminals are train- ed to turn out én! mummies, sarcophagi and even papyg}. ©, Feeding Elephants. The manner, jn. W! the elephants of the Indian army arp, fed is most pecullar. It is also economical, for by the method employed not a single grain of rice is wasted. An elephant’s breakfast includes ten pounds of raw rice, done up in leaves and then tied with grass. At meal time the elephants are drawn up in line before a row of piles of this food. At the word “‘At- tention!” each elephant raises its trunk and a ig thrown into its eapactous mouth. The promptness. and of | IF IT WERE ONLY SO THIS MAN WANTS WAR “There’s one thing about this war busi- ness,” said the man with the indeterminate mouth, “that sort o’ consoles me. It may put a stop to my wife’s annual-moving agi- tation, which always becomes something fierce as the first of May draws closer. Be- tween going to a war, anywhere or under any old circumstances, and moving, simme war every time! I'm living in hopes that the thing’ll break out bigger'n a bunch of coyotes before May 1. When we moved into the “house we're occupying now, my wife was enthusiastic over it. She called it the cutest little bijou of a wickieup, or something like that, that she'd ever seen, and said she'd be perfectly willing to live and die in such a love of a little home. But she's been hedging morc or less ali winter, and the other day at dinner she came out flat-fovtedly and made her decla- ration that with us It was a case of move en May 1. It seems that some woman friend of hers down in the next block had a@ porcelain bathtub and one or two other confixin’s put in her house, and victorious- ly showed them to my wife. My wife went to our landlord and gave him a bad quarter of an hour, I'll bet, from what she toid me of it, and when he told her that the porce- lain bathtub echeme would have to fotlow a little later she told him he could have his old ancient Aztec house after the first €ay of May. When we first moved into the house we've got now my wife couldn't talk enough about the idyllic quietude that reigned in the neigborhood. Now she talks day and night about the yelling of the kids on the block. She says they're the noisiest mavericks this side o’ the Pan-Handie, but i never hear ’em. The bathtub we've got looks all right to me, but my wife says it’s chock full of typhoid and death, and what she says goes, I spose. Now, if this here war'll only get a move on and break out in time, why, I may get a show to pack a musket wherever it’s going to happen alons with the rest of the gang, und thereby sneak out of the moving business this year anyhow. As between packing a musket and juggling with piano legs, gilded miik- ing stools, and 79-cent frosted vases, gim- me the dogs of war every tip!” AN OBJECT LESSON. Showing What the Races Will Do for a Man. There could scarcely be a more motley throng of men than that which flows over on the trolley trains every afternoon to the horse-racing pool room on the grounds of the abandoned outlaw race track at St. Asaph. The men belong to every station in life. On Wednesday last, one of the racing events of the season, the Crescent City ‘Derby was run off in New Orleans. The St. Asaph pool room was jammed with in- fatuated Washington men, who went over there on that day to place their bets on the big entry, but who, almost to a man, got tangled up in the general vortex of mud races atl over the country—the pool oom at St. Asaph gets the reports from ull of the tracks and takes bets on the cve with the result that deep dismaine vaded tne returning trains after dariknes had settled over the city. Warnings or ex- pcstulations do not avail with the man who has got the horse-racing fever. Bitter ex- perience alone can teach aim that the “ponies” is a game that cannot be beaten. But there was one man at the pool 100m on Wednesday last who needs to have Li cuse told about. Everybody in the p: room, from the former prominent Wasn- ingtonian who came near holding high of- fice in the District at one ume down to the negro tout, knew about this man, and Fitied aim for being a fool. This: man was dirty, unkempt, shaggy headed, unshaven, and in general a figure of uncieanness and wretchedness. ‘Two yearg ago he was a prosperous Wash- ingten contractor, an industrious man, in a fair way to become more than cemfort- abiy fixed, and with a bappy family, in- ciuding two pretty daughters. Then he got tne “pony fever.” At first he followed the racing circutt—laid down his money where he could see the runs made for 1t—and for a few months was something of a high- reiling figure at Brighton, Sheepshead Bay, Merris Park, and the other big race courses. But he didn't know anything whatsoever avout racing, and he was a stubborn man, besides. He lost steadily. He permitted his business to go to pot. He went broke om the southern circuit, and came back to Washington to do a bit of mortgaging. His business passed out of bis hands. Hig friends tried to talk some sense into him, but he would have none of it. He owned four good houses, that brought in enough rental to keep his family ccmfortably. They all went over at St. Asaph. His family moved to a little tum- bledown rented house. The man kept hammering away at the St. Asaph game, and he has been getting right down toward the ditch for the past few months. Even the proprietors of the St. Asaph institution tried to induce this man to take a tumble to himself, but he was too far gone. On Wednesday this man was one cf the first of the arrivals at the pool room, and, as said, he was the filthiest and most woe- ful spectacle imaginable. Before the first Trace was run he sidled over to one cf the sheet writers and pulled a dirty piece of paper out of his pocket. It was a dis- possess document. “My furniture’s on the street,” said the crazy man, “but I've got $2. Do you know of anything good? Want to win out enough to pay my rent.” The sheet writcr told the man he’d better keep his $2. But the advice was not taken. The man laid down his $ on a long shot, a horse that was never heard of in a race, and, of course, lost. As he shufiied out of the pool room in the directlor, of the =ta- tien, this man surely presented an unsur- passable object lesson. : ———— ONE MAN'S PLEA. Wants a Place to Buy Delicacies in the Evening. “Say,” inquired a man who recently moved to Washington from a bigger but less beautiful town, “why aren't there any delicatessen shops in this metropolis? I haven't been able to find one, and I've scoured the town for them. Don't people that live in rooms ever get hungry after dark in this burg? If they don’t, it’s funny. My wife and I get ravenous every night about 10 o'clock, and as neither of us be- leves in going to bed hungry—we haven't got any housekeeping plant, only fur- nished rooms—we have to pile out and go down town to get something to eat at a restaurant. My wife had to dress, of course, for this expedition, which is in other re- spects a nuisance-and a bother. Now, if there were delicatessen shops in this town, when we get hungry at night I could slip on my overcoat or mackintosh over my smoking jacket, and skate out for a bit of Neufchatel cheese, a can of sardines, some brittle crackers, smoked iongue and stuff like that, and we always have a case of something wet around that we could wash it down with. I enjoy a feed like that at night @ good deal more than I do restau- rant stuff, anyhow, and so does my wife, but you can’t get it here, for there are no delicatessen shops, and all of the high- ‘grade groceries that sell the sort of things you need or a snack before turning in are closed tighter’n a drum by 8 o'clock, any- how. If I had the money I'd start a aeli- catessen shack about in the middle north- west of this town, and get rich and sassy.” with perfume. And that radical change was brought about solely by the prohibi- tion of alcohol, Since the natives—ne- groes and a mixed population—had be- come victims of alcohol to such an extent that there were more drunken people to be seen than sober ones, the British resi- dent prohibited the importation of alco- stop the evil. _But it f E i Written for The Evening Sta: Her Rea: “What makes ye keep a-sayin’ ‘no?’” asked her at the gate. “Ye know I love ye dearly, though I'm willin’ fur to wait. I'd try an’ bear it ef ye'd put it off a year or so. But I don’t see what it is that makes ye keep a-sayin’ ‘no.’ I “You surely can’t expect me fur to hide my heart away, When yer eyes is like the sunshine an’ yer smile as fair as May. An’ yer voice is sweeter than the sSwectest music, even though You allus sing in minors an’ keep on a- sayin’ ‘no.’ “The earth was made fur blossoms an’ the sky fur etars, an’ we Was created fur each other; that’s as piain as it kin be. Fur my life seems dark without ye. An’ the care that I'd bestow Is amazin’ ef you only wouldn't keep a- sayin’ ‘no. An’ then she looked up to me in her tender, laughin’ way, An’ the robins stopped their singin’ so’s to hear what she might say; “The answer that I give ye is accordin’ to the rule. I tell you ‘no,’ because, you sce—today is April fool.” ~ me A Diagnosis. “Have you seen the dear count?” inquired the impressionable girl. “Not recently,” replied Miss Cayenne. “Poor fellow!” came the exclamation, with a sigh. “I can’t help sympathizing with him my- self,” rejoined Miss Cayenne. “Who could help it? There is a wistful- ness in his eyes that must move to pity.” “I have observed it.” “And there is an unmists creeping Into his rich, musical voice. “I have often thought so.” “Ah, the sorrow must, indeed, be there if you perceived it. For, you know, I have always thought that you were of a rather unromantic disposition. Yet who could fail to be interested in the suppressed grief of a man iike the dear count! “Your father was saying just the other that it wes hard touched by him. =ven my father has noticed it! The d count is one of those whose silent woe finds kindred sorrow in another's heart. He need not speak it. I wonder what its cause ean be.” Jnrequited affection.” re you sure?” S. It is one of the worst cases of un- requited affection I ever encountered. I don’t think I ever knew a man who loved money more than the dear count doe: « evening to keep from Z eep from ak Sticking to Tradition. The boy who feeds the press for the Pohick Clarion came into the editorial room with the first copy of the edition in his hand. There was an expression in his eye which led his employer to inquire: “What's the matter, James? Isn't the paper all right?” “Well, I don't wish to appear fault-find- ing. But it doesn’t suit me very well. There’s no use of trying to conceal it. We're not keeping up to the times.” The editor looked hurt. But he endeav- ored to hide his feelings by plunging into werk. Having failed to find his scissors, he took a pin from his coat lapel and proceeded with great dexterity to cut an item from an exchange by pressing the point on the paper. He turned to the water bucket in order to moisten the stratum of hard paste in the bottom of the cup and perceived with evident em- barrassment that his assistant was stil! standing in the door waiting for a reply. “James,” he said, “in what respect is it your opinion that we are delinquent?” The boy looked at him witheringly. “On Saint Patrick’s day you didn’t come out in green. ink.” “Well, you know green ink costs money.” “You ain't the right thing at all. You haven’t once stated that the administra- tion will soon announce a stand which it has been forced to take because of the overwhelming pressure brought to bear by the Clarion.” “I ought not to have neglected that,” was the regretful answer. “All, you do is to sit down and write ‘we think so and so,’ and ‘we think this and that.’ There's too much ‘we’ in the Porames, good handy bo: a Ss: you're a y, an T’d hate to lose you. But I'm not going to stop writing ‘we.’ I refuse to adopt the first person singular. If you could be right here In the office with me all the time, it might be different. But you can’t. You have your duties elsewhere. ‘We’ is some- thing that every editor has been privi- leged to say from time immemorial. We've simply got to keep up the bluff and leave people who get mad and belligerent about ‘T've had my eye on you fur several hours,” he says, ‘an’ I tought I'd come i an’ ask ye what yer business is, bein’ it's so urgent ye can't wait ull daytime.” I knew dere wasn’t any use o' tryin’ to make a bluff, so I sa: ‘Bein’ as ye're so civil, I can’t do no less dan give yer a di- reck answer. I was tryin’ ter rob de bank.’ “Didn't dat make ‘im mad?” “No. He was one 0’ de evenest tempered men I ever met. ‘Well,’ says he, ‘you orte® be ashamed 0° yerself. Tryin’ ter git in ehead o° yer betters! De president an’ de ashier has been layin’ out ter rob @ bank fur de last six months, an’ dey we comin’ around tonight to open de safe an’ finish de job, so's ter take de 5 o'clock train tomorrow mornin’. We'd have been Vrough long ago ef ye hadn't scared us off; an’ my advice ter you now is ter not git uppish, but mingle wit’ de gang an’ be sociable.’ “Dem fellers was dishonest!” Piodding Pete. “Dey was,” came the solemn reply. “Dey shook me de nex’ mornin’ witout divvyin’ up a dollar!” exclaimed An Individual Ideal. I read a book of poedry vonce, moosic alvays hums My old head through; especially ven again der spring-time comes. I sit me in enchoyment und repead it line by line, Mid a small hot sausage und a large cold stein. whose Und it all seems choost as fine as any- dings I effer heard— Except dose reference to dot bottle und dot leedle bird. I alvays skip dose pages ven I've sat me down to dine Mid a small hot sausage und a large cold stein. I know dere’s lots of folks dot says dere’s nodding can surpass Dot twinkling und dot sprinkling wen you fill a foaming glass. But if I had a cellar full I know dot I should pine For a small hot sausage und a large cold stein. Ven morning comes around again, don'd apolochize For de vay your head is feeling und de dimness of your eyes If all dose luxuries mid resolution you decline Und don’d haf anyding except dot sausage und dot stein. you Ven de busy day is ended und I'm sadisfied und free Und I'm bothering nobody und dere’s no von bothering me, I can’t see why dey had to try for anyding more fine Dan a small hot sausage und a large cold stein! ry -_* A Little Knowledge. Farmer Corntossel looked after the elder- ly gentleman who had passed him on the street arid then turned to follow him. “Excuse me, but ain't you the perfessor?” he inquired when he had overtaken him. “That is the title by which I am somo- times addressed—why, how do you do? I didn’t recognize you at first!” “Tnese here is my visitin’ clothes,” was the reply. “I’m glad to have run across ye. Do you remember when ye was to our house early last summer?” ‘Very well.” “Ye had a way o tellin’ amusin’ an’ tn- structive things which ef anybody else had told "em would have caused him to be re- garded with suspicion.” “Had I?” “Yes. I'd of been willin’ to reduce yer boari ef you'd of stayed longer to med folks interested. One thing you said struc me right hard. You made the observation that the great thing in these times was to take science an’ give it a practical applica- tion, thereby savin’ time, bor. ‘Yes That is the tendency of the pe- reknd later you said somethin’ that I de- sire to ask you about most partic’lar. You said that a great 40 per cent water.” “Yes; that’s quite true.” money an’ la- any fruits was nearly “Sure it wasn’t milk you was thinkin’ of?” “Certainly.” “You mean plain water—same as comes down in a rain storm or hangs up on the roses in the dewy hours of morn, as my daughter says?” “Practically the same.” “Well, perfessor; 1 take yer worl fur it.” “I don’t see why you should have any reluctance about it. “I hate to think of the meanness of hu- man nature; that’s all. I hate to think of bow tome folks will stand out fur smait things because they don’t know no better. I “explained -yer idees plain an’, clear at the dinner table, but when time fur dessert come around you orzer of seen how them boarders kicked fur‘ that other 10 per cent!” ————— His Wit ‘And you are to defend that shoplifter’ The Lawyer—“My dear, she isn’t a shop- ifter. She was formerly, but she has ‘saved so much money in the last ten years that she has become a kleptomaniac.”— Harvard Lampoon. + e+ ____ (Copyright, 1898, Life Publishing Company.)