Evening Star Newspaper, June 11, 1898, Page 23

i THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 11, 1898-24 PAGES. THE TRUE BASTILLE It Was Not Such a Very Bad Place After All. ———— PRISONERS ENJOYED MANY LUXURIES Legends That Vanish Before the Light of History. MAN IN THE IRON MASK ———— Frem the London Chronicle. It is roy fortresses than The Bastille fell in 1789, but false ideas the Bastille still flourish. We should net be surprised if they were to survive the plain truth-telling of M. Funck- legenc Brentano's “Legendes et Archives de la Bastille,” and the trenchant preface which M. Sardou has contributed to it. For when Arisiot id long ago that “poetry”— meaning, of-course, what we moderns” should eail “fiction”—was more “philosophi- cat” than history. he was only pointing out that there are certain concepts of the ex- ternal world which the mind inevitably forms, and will not be deterred from form- ing, merely because they are shown not to square with the facts. This mythopoeic tendency of the human race has involved, among innumerabie other things, a pro- digiously unauthentic Bastille—the Bastille of such melodramas as “Latude” and “The Dead Heac the paint-and-canvas Bastifle of the last Paris exhibition, the Bastille of Perfervid rhetoricians like Louis Blanc. “Iron ca recalling Plessis-les-Tours and the tortures of Cardinal da Baliue * * * undersround cells, the haunts of toads, monstrous rats * * * whose sole iurniture consists of a huge stone, covered by a little straw, where the "prisoner breathes pest-laden air. A Fanciful Picture. “Wrapped in the shadow of mystery, con- demned to an absolute ignorance of the crime laid to his charge, as well as of the kind of punishment which awaits him, he ceases to belong to the world.” That is Louis Bianc’s fancy picture. Besides the mythopoeic tendency, more specific causes helped to buiid up the legend—the menda- cious stories of rogues like Latude and Linguet, written to meet a popular demand, the desire to exaggerate the evils of the ancient regime, and, above all, the absence of authentic documents. When the Basillle Was taken many of its records were wah- tonly destroyed, but a special commission rescued a vast number of them—upward of 600.000 documents—where were consigned in 1797 to the Library of the Arsenal. There they remained stowed away in a cellar, and their very existence was forgotten till 1840, when M. Francois Ravaisson, the librarian Of the place, accidentally came upon them under the floor of his kitchen. As It Really Was. Only quite recently the work of classify- ing and cataloguing them has been com- pleted, und they are now open to public in- Spection at the arsenal library, in rooms spectally set apart. M. Funck-Brentano has gone through them, and has pieced io- gether an account of the real Bastille which is calculated to give sentimentaiists Who deciann against that supposed strong- hoid and symbol of tyranny a rude shock. it is very little of an exaggeration to say hat the Bastille of historic umes, the Bas- tille whicn the revolution destroyed, was an exceedingly comfortable and well-ap- pointed r a kind of liberty hall or rivaling that torture- n Mr. Gilbert's opera which was f with the illustrated papers.” underground” which were, as Moor cells—nad Each prisoner had a om, sufficiently furnished own furniture if he chose. If { afford to stock his own ward- authorities stocked it for him, mely, too. Latude, complaining matism, Was supplied with furs. ed a dressing-gown of a smart tit. One, Hugon- bought for § cufts. Mads sik dress with ucked all Paris to: that the spots cells nd robe, t and ha f rhe ; they ran: then apologized stripes. Comfortable Quarters. Writing materiais were furnished, and books ad libitum—La Baumelie had Guu Volumes in his room—and any prisoner might keep birds, cats and dogs. Musical Kenneville had kis violix ; even concerts were got patronage of the Bove nt amuse them- selves wi lework, amateur carpentry, cards ani chess; one of them, La Kouarie even irsisted upon being supplied with a Billiard table. They could take the air on the platform of the fortress, and some were even allowed to go out in the town. They could have their own domestics. Food was plentiful, end the cooking excellent—there is significance In the nt made by | Latude that the fow! ved to him were not larded. Mme. de Staal, frightened by | @ sound which seemed to suggest some in- | strument of torture, found it was only the Kitchen spit. She confessed that he: - journ in the Bastille was “the happiest time in her life." M. de Bonrepos found it so comfortable that he declined to leave, and had tu be ejected by force. Well Cared For. rary men were especially well cared During Voltaire’s imprisonment of days orders were given for him t the attention “due to his genius.” i prisoners were supplied with a purse, and sometimes a pen contrast between this Bastille stille of the legend “gives fu is One sems tu find an epit- of the contrast in one little detail Latude. The legend says he was to wear an iron ring round pis body. he Wore was a truss. for the traditional account of the of the Bastille, it has long been con- s false. Chancellor Pasquier, an ares that there was no and that the greater “besiegers’’ were there merely sightseers. They included mary who left their at the corner of ‘the street while ved the fun. As everybody now only n prisoners were found in Of these, three were dangerous confined at the request of their the four others were convicted L for. twelve ! The and the B. ously to thi about made Wha As “fair idle fashionably dressed ladies, as Vanishing Legends. Louis Blanc talks of the heavy chains which were found, the dread machines, an instrument of torture fashioned like an fron corselet. round tw statues which flanked the great the dread machines were fragments broken-up_ printing press, the iron et was a fragment of fifteenth cen- tury armor. With the main legend vanish, as be expected, the subsiaiary fables. M. Funck-Brentano makes "short work of our old friend, the Man in the Iron Mask— which, by the way, was a velvet mask. The book gives in photographic facsimile the records both of his incarceration and his death. Needless to say, he was not, as Voltaire amused himself by pretending, and Innocent readers of “Vingt Ans Apres’ might supr a twin brother of Louis | Mattie retary to the betrayed Louis But what are » popular imagi- persist in gloating over {ts and its “Horrors of the Bas- is own m: nai “Tron tille.” Mask —_——. REVERENCE FOR — IFORMS. What an American Notes in This Re- gard in European Countries. From the New York Mail and Express. “A uniform in this coun said aman tty returned from a trip abroad, pecial mark of superiority and does not raise the wearer any higher in the esti- mation of the average citizen. In some of the European countries, however, and nota- bly in Germany, a bit of gilt braid and a few brass buttons place a man away above his ungarnished countrymen. The spirit of military discipline is so predominant in The chains had been hung | Emperor William's realm that a uniformed man, whatever his capacity, meets with instinctive deference from all Classes of people. “I was forcibly reminded recently of the contrast between Germany and the United States in this respect. I wished to see Chief of Police McCullagh on a trifling mat ter, but thought I might meet with some difficulty, as an ordinary private citizen, in gaining an audience with him. On the contrary, I was admitted to his presence without delay, and in a few minutes my business was satisfactorily performed. “When I was ia Berlin I had occasion to see a captain of police. Not speaking German, I was obliged to employ an inter- preter. We proceeded to the police sta- ton together, but we had not got within a hundred yards of it before my assistant began to get nervous. When we reached the station steps he was fairly trembling in his shoes, and by the time we got in- side he seemed almost ready to drop. He took off his hat and began bowing at the door. He bowed himself all the way across the room to where the great official was seated behind a desk. The captain's an- swers were short and curt. When we had gained the information we sought the in- terpreter started to bow himself backward out of the room. Like a green actor going off the stage in the same way and backing against the scenery, the poor fellow steer- ed injudiciously and went bump against the wall. This confused him greatly, and be- fore putting on his hat when he finally got outside, he stopped to wipe the perspiration from his face. ase WAR CORRESPONDENCE. Descriptions of 2 Battle as Seen by ‘Three Well-Known Writers. The Buffalo Enquirer prints the following war correspondence from the front. It ne- giects to state whether the dispatches were received by wire or by freight. L By Stephen Crane. The American fleet came redly on like a bunch of waving bandana handkerchiefs. The air was full of prunes as a plum pud- ding. The whitish green rattle of the rap- id-fire guns was exacerbatingly shrill. Yhe Spanish met the onslaught with a mauve determination. Ecruly they stood at the posts shepherds doggedly. The two fleets hurtled in magenta hurte. They feined and thrust with a deep canary yellow vigor. The battle looked iike two overturned garbage cans on a hot right. The shells whistled seal brownly. The death screams of the Span- iards were full of purplish-pink despair. One Spaniard with a cerise voice like the aftermath of an aurora borealis screamed paintily his desire to kill the Americanos. Then, with a blackish white tremor, strong batile ships sank greenly chromely black into the water. A gauntly greenish smeil tore the air. The whole thing looked Lke a German pouring dark wine into a dingy funnel. Admiral Dewey had won. IL By Richard Harding Davis. I hastened over to Admiral Dewey and asked him as a special favor to postpone action till Gibson got here. He said he would do anything to please me, but after- ward I decided to let the thing go on with- out Gibson, so I told Admiral Dewey to go ahead. The Olympia steamed up to a Spanish vessel which had not the honor of knowing me and started to fire. I discovered I had not my note paper with me. So I sema- phored the ship to stop firing, and getting a note book, 1 allowed them to start again. After a few rounds had been fired, thaugnt an admirable situation for my new novel and I was about to signal the fight to stop till I had written a few chapters, put I gave in, owing to the evident wish to go on pessessed by Admiral Dewey. Taking my hatural position in the conning tower, I watched the fight. I shall publish the real details of it in some magazine about Au- gust. I have held out all important infor- mation save the fact I was not injured in the fight. Il. By Riebard le Gallienne. ad old fight! Poor unfortunate people ng with all unattained, and the fairy | curtain of their dreams unlifted. Sad, sad | tight. But thus it must be. As the world | mo and time has its being, there must i } be killing and the green world claims many to her bosom. The hopelessiy unaesthetic battle ships, reminding me of nothing so +4 much as gaunt old women, met and bat- {tlead with each other. The United States ships won. And there was much slaughter and much damage, and the old green earth yearned to clasp to her bosom her sun- ered sons. jad oid fight. On From the Memp! soe. ¥ a Mister. is Commercial Appeal. There was nothing more characteristic of Gladstene than the fact that ne died a plain mister. Titles of all kinds were freely ten- dered him. He could have been a baron or a lord, but he declined all offers of this kind. It added nothing to either the fame or the worth of Disraeli that he became Lord Beaconsfield. ‘Tennyson became n one whit more eminent because the word “Lord” was tacked upon his name, but the fact that men as great as Tennyson and Disraeli accepted these titles shows whai a strong temptation is intertwined with such tenders of honor. There are no doubt thousands of Englishmen who would almost | give their heads to be lords; and it must be confessed t titles of ‘nobility have | their attraction even for Americans, who ave no such honors to look forward to. ; Yet the example of Gladstone shows how mythical is the significance of ordinary | titles. He might have accepted one as his due for his eminence in letters and states- | manship, but no honor of this kind could | ever have added one cubit to the height of Gladstone, or have changed a single tra! in his character. Some people might say that it was mere affectation on his part to decline, but this vice of smail souls was entirely absent from the character of Glad- stone. He had made his own name famous throughout the world. It was a good, hon- est name, and it was but natural that he should take a pride in it. So it was that a plain mister was four times the uncrowned King of Great Britain, was the dominant figure of the nineteenth century, and died plain and unpretending gentleman, instead of carrying with him to the grave a yard of titles as vain as the dust of death and as empty as a fool's pate. He made the mister the peer of any king or prince on earth, o+—____ Registers the Ship's Roll. From the Philadelphia Record. The latest application of electricity for use aboard ship is a patent inclinometer designed to register the exact roll or list to port or starboard of a vessel at sea or in harbor. It is claimed that this instrument is extremely sensitive and absolutely un- erring im its indications and conse- quently shoul prove of value to navi- gators and ship owners. The face of the instrument is made in the form of a dial, divided into quadrants, which are divided into degrees reading from 0 to 90, Just in- | side this dial is a giass tube containing a partition which separates two columns of mercury. A movable hand is provided which may be placed at any point desired and when so placed should the vessel roll that amount the mercury column would completz an electrical circuit and ring a loud alarm, thus notifying the captain. The instrument is provided with an index to record the greatest roll. One valuable use of the instrument is in trimming a ship in harbor or any place where it is essential to keep the vessel as level as possible, as the slightest movement is Indicated. A less valuable but interesting use has developed for this instrument—namely, that of amus- ing the passengers. On a ship recently equipped the passengers lald wagers each day as to the maximum roll and the in- dications of the instrument appeared to afford them no end of amusement. i } Lassoing Pork En Route. From the New Orleans Times-Democrat. “We are a pig short in Mississippi City,” protested a resident there yesterday, “and we want to know if Uncle Sam is going to pony up or the Arizona packer who yanked it aboard the train Saturday when it slowed up. Everybody about the town had turned out to see the soldiers, as we thought they were, go by, and a white pig was on hand, too, to take in the sight. The train hardly stopped long enough for us to see anything, but that didn’t deter a long-hatred individ- ual from the plains from swinging off, and, whirling his lariat in the air quicker than you could bat an eye, he had that poor, lonesome pig fast. It all minute, and GASTRONOMIC GERMANY A Land Where the Oooking Possesses In- finite Potentialities If a Man is What He Eats, Then the Must Be a Queer Lot. ‘Teutons From Lippineott’s Magazine. When you have examined the constitution of the German cuisine you are tempted to grow loquacious. You are conscious of having discovered that the psychology of @ nation cannot be constructed upon a mere analysis of its made dishes. Your estimate of Brillat-Savarin sinks; he couid not tell you what you are, even from all the menus of your lifetime. Freiligrath’s philcsophic corclusion that “man is what he eats” you straightway qualify as true only when re- ferring to cannibalism. And you will aver that only in the case of paiaeolithic man can you construct a man from the crumbs that fall from his dinner table. And this you will want to prove, and consequently will grow talkative with presenting of much evidence, And yet, in your sane moments, you will have a sneaking affection for the statement that a German is a German because he eats what he eats. As a general rule he may be said to eat five times a day. But his hun- ger is constantly being stilled. He starts early in the day with a cup of cafe au lait and a small buttered roll. This keeps him going till 11 o'clock, when he demolishes a slice of buttered rye bread spread with slices of hard-botled egg, raw chopped beef or cheese. This he washes down with a glass of ale, thus stilling his inner man till dinner time. Dinner takes place toward 1 o'clock, and consists of soup (generally nourishing), a plate of meat, with potatoes and fruft (cranberries, prunes or apricots), occasionally cheese; seldom sweets, rarely a green vegetable. Three hours later cof- fee is taken, served with a piece of cake or thick bread and butter. This is the hour precious to the gossip and the busybody, the time for spreading scandal. Toward 8 o'clock the appetite again asserts itself; the hour of the ubiquitous sausages has arrived; their name is legion, and they share the honors with slices of ham, smoked goosebreast, pieces of raw pickled herring, and, in summer, hard-boiled eggs and potato salad. Such is the German method of spreading the meals over the day. Of course, there are exceptions. Many familics have two ample meals a day, but the bulk of the population eats mostly but- tered bread and snacks. In justice to Ger- many one must say that the fare in many a home will compare favorably with that of many an American family. In the Ger- man restaurant the cuisine is, on the whole, monotonous and the food singularly insipid; all meats seem to have the ie flavor, all are served with the same heavy, viscous sauces, and invariably escorted with the same soaplike potatoes. Stodgi- ness and heaviness are the great blots on the German fare. The element of variety, too, seems considered superfluous. In the concrete the subject is almost too painful to face, the difficulty being to steer clear of exclamations denoting positive of- fensiveness. Some of the kickshaws which figure regularly upon the German table are reputed to be mosi sustaining; they certain- ly are intensely and ostentatiously wonder- inspiring. One preparation is everywhere met with under the name (more or less pho- netically spelled) of beefsteak a la tartare. Its basis is raw chopped beef; this, spread out into a pat of elliptical shape, is crow ed with the raw yolk of an egg; Faw fine! chopped onion is sprinkled over it, a garni- ture of gherkins is added, and the whole is eaten with much gusto and no wo! consequences than a durable thirst. In many of the dishes you discover all the humor, feeling and imagination of a Wagnerian composition; you find the resolute desire to build up harmony upon discord. Of this nature may be considered the traditional menu of New Year eve, carp, pancake and punch. These three, brought into immedi- | ate juxtaposition and consumed in plethoric quantities, generally have the desired effect —that of inducing a hysterical good hu- mor. For stodginess nothing beats the favorite dish, panache; it consists of pickled pork, sour cabbage and a puree of boiled down to the consiste si dough. Experiments on this mass produce deplorable capers and cause one to grunt mournfully. A variety of this diet is found in Berlin; you substitute boiled balls of dough and indifferent prunes for the pez and cabbage, and you have the dish popu- larly termed “the Sil n Kingdom of Heaven.” Cold eels, imbedded in a trans- lucid, glutinous substan figure in all workmen's taverns, while roast goose is de rigueur for all solemnities. A dainty which we have recently met with in Berlin re- called Darwin's remark that “hardly ar s so absurd as not to be worth it consisted of finely powdered horse radish served up with frozen whip- ped cream! One may sum up one’s judgment by sa ing of German cooking what the art critic said of nature: “It has infinite potentiali- tie Not the least of these is its ambi- tion to discover victims that survive its charms only in the form that the walls of Jericho survived the trumpet blast of Joshua. From the Youth's Companion. In the north, Bruin would escape from the slow-footed native if it were not for his pack of howling and excited dogs that pur- sue the bear with extraordinary eagerness. A!though the rule {fs to bite and jump back, yet many a dog falls victim to his over- boldness. Eventually the baited and ex- hausted bear seeks the summit of some ice- berg, where he falls an easy prey to the hunter. It is not unusual to hear the polar bear stigmatized as a coward, no more danger- ous to meet than an old sheep. Others liken him to a North American iu- dian in his treachery, cowardice and in- tractability. These critics forget that both Indian and bear simply ask to be let alone in possession of their hunting grounds, and that instinctively they pursue the most ef- fective, indeed the only possible, methods by which the few can withstand the many. The polar bear is not a dashing, impulsive arimal, but he is endowed with caution and Sagacity to an unusual extent. In nearly every instance the success of the bear in obtaining sustenance depends upon stealthy and concealing methods whereby he is with- drawn from the view of his victim until he is ready to strike. While it is true that a skillful hunter, with good firearms, stands in no great dan- ger from the polar bear, which he usually attacks at a disadvantage to the animal, nevertheless it requires a man of iron nerve and dauntless courage to face one which has been wounded or otherwise enraged. And yet many of the Eskimos, without fire- arms, and provided only with their bows and arrows, lances or knives, do not hesi- tate to attack ‘a defiant female, she being ravenous with hunger and ready to die for her cubs. ee “Coming Through the Rye.” From the New York Times, It is an unfortunate fact that in most of the copies of this song, so attractive from its naivete, Rye is spelled with a small r, as if the gvain rye were meant and not the burn or rivulet Rye, which is a small stream in the northwest district of Cun- ningham, in Ayrshire. In this way the whole point of the story, as told in the song, is lost, and this beautiful lyric is de- graded from the portrayal of a romantic episode to an account of a mere common- place kissing match. The Rye is a small burn or stream which in many places is quite shallow, and is crossed by the familiar device of stepping stones. These stepping stones do not leave room for twos persons, coming from op- posite directions, to pass each other with- out taking hold of each ot! ors hands. When a young man, on arriving at the edge of the burn, sees another traveler of the same sex, or @ lady with whom he is not acquainted or for whom he does not care much, approaching he waits until the th is clear. But if the passenger should be'an attractive je of his acquaintance he at once begins to cross, they pass by taking hold of each other’s hand so as not to lose their balance. In such cases the lasste is expected to “‘pay toll” as oun tncien bere: Pees Rnown: te: te. this country crossing @ bridge on sleighing excursion. - in a ee Tae ei RANDOM VERSE. = "8 Choice, ot Written for The Evening Star by Elizabeth Wor thington Fiske. They called it ““Hobso&’s Choice’ in olden day ‘When some sad wight (as one by hunger driven Eats crumbled crusts) took the poor chance that lay ’Twixt him and nothing—fates are so uneven! But Hobson's choice abd name are sacred now! Men speak the word aiid, reverent, bare the brow And tell his tale with smiles, and tears, and eyes that prideful glow! Our Hobson's chotce was his land's honor, death Thrown in, when he and six young heroes more Resolved to dare the batteries’ burning breath,— Brains cool, hands firm, hearts valiant to the core! : The stars had paled, the first dim streaks of gray Were melting to the sheen of tropic day, The ‘leaguered city calm, the coasts in slumberous silence lay. Like phantom squadrons seemed the fleets opposed, One hugzing close the harbor's sh(ltering screen, One, riding bold, the Stars and Stripes disclosed; A width of sea, a narrow strait, between; A grimy bulk, stripped bare, her anch@r slips, Manned by seven silent men with firm-set lips, Waving three thousand throbbing hearts that throng those battle ships. Blithe farewell! Death within her bull she steams Pust the sea-space, she makes the channel straight, Prow pointed true! ‘The foe scarce turns in dreams Of Guadalquiver fair—Alhambra's gate. Rearward, each mother's of each brave crew Holds back his cheers until his lips are blue, And curses deep that cruel fate forbids him ven- ture too! ‘Then sea, and laud flame clear in baleful light Their leaden greeting deathful dragons boom! ‘Neath the red rain from fleet, from Morro’s height, As saints seck heaven, as shipwrecked men seek home, They steer! She turns! athwart the channel throws, Her hulk! A crash! a plunge! The waters close! ‘Tis done! Nor gun, nor mine shall break hence- forth her grim repose! Did Heaven accept the offered sacrifice? Nay! Spain, thrilled strong, recalls the ancient fame Of her dead heroes! The supreme surprise ‘Their generous foes confess in clear acclaim! To feel the circle of immortal bass ‘These live, to serve the grateful land whose praise Blazors their fame in word and song to everlast- ing days. ae He Remembered. From the Denver Post, we to depart as th And, getting his hat at His wire sweetly murmu late, Dear Charlie, ‘Remember the Maine!" With thar somewhat startling injunction in view, He was back home at ten with his pet, For should he stay later he very well knew What a great blowing up he would get. ———+ e+ clock sounded eight, his cane, ‘Now, don't stay out Ad Dorotheam. Stanzas written by W. E. Gladstone to bis lttle grancdaughter. 1 know where there 1s honey in a jar, Meet for a certain little friend of mine; And, Dorothy, I kuow where dairies are ‘That only wait small hands to intertwine A wreath for such a golden head as thine. ‘The thought that thou art coming makes all glad; ‘The house is bright with blossems high and low, And many a little Jasy and little Expectantly are rupiiiig to and fr ‘The fire within our hecrts Is all aglow. We want thee, child, to share in our delight On this high day, the holiest and best, Because "twas then, ere ‘youth had taken filght, Thy grandmamma, of women loveltest, Made me of men most honored und most blest. That nanghty boy who Iéd thee to suppose He was thy sweetheert hus, I griev Been seen to pick the garden's choicest rose Ard toddle with it to another belle, Who does not treat him altogether’ well. But mind not that, or let it teach thee this— ‘To waste no love on any youthful rover (All youths are 1 e if thou would ‘Thy grandpa is perfect So come, thou playmate of my closing day, ‘The latest treasure life can’ offer me And with thy baby Ianghing maki Thy fresh young voice shall sin; Songs that shall bid the feet of NRE The Wa w. » the tracks of Ls is ‘no broad and beat No roses now make soft the ‘They only ay, et us aftermath, Your tend My arms ar Come, t see Her Papa. From the Boston Globe. My papa’s all dressed up today; He never looked so fine; I thought, when I first lo« My papa wasn’t mine. ed at him, a got a beautiful new suit— The old one was so old— It's blue, with buttons, ob, so bright, I guets they must be gold. And paps's sert 0” glad and sort O” sad—1 wonder why; And ev'ry time she Iccks at him It makes my mamma cry. Who's Uncle Sam? My papa says ‘That he belongs to him; But pape's Joking, ‘cause he knows My uicle’s name ts Jim. My papa just belongs to me And I guess 8 are blind who cannot see His bettons marked U. 3. U.S. spells us. He's ours—and yet My mamma can't help cry, And papa tries to smile at me And can't—I wonder why? —-eee- It Will Come, From the Atlanta Constitution, It may be long delayed— The grim, sea-cannonade— ‘The battle. blade to blades But ‘twill come! Its thanders—they shall shake ‘The wold, while nations quak And chains of thralldom break O'er tyrants dumb! It may be long delayed— ‘The death for tyrants made— ‘Their thrones in ruin laid; But ‘twill come The ground’s marked for the gravel ‘There is no power can save, ‘Till Freedom's flag shall wave O'er tyrants dumb ! +06 Judgment. Grace Duffleld Goodwin in Lippincott’s, When she lay dead ‘The many looked upon her face and said, “The life 18 gone, so filled with shining deeds, So full of ministry to human needs; And we who loved her are bereft; What have we left?" When she lay dead A man looked sternly pn, her face and said, “Thank God, the vie hpr life is past; What I have known the Wprld would know at last. Now all ts silence, ppices,for me— Isball be free! 707 5 7 When she lay dead °,: » 3, The great God lookdd, frm His wide heaven and a “Only the One who made it knows the whole Of strength and weakpess in a human soul. Cesse, then, thy wonder; peace; let be; ‘Leave her to me."* . —_—+-+e+_—____ Ships at Sea. Clara W. Williams ig Boston ‘Transcript, Oh, many ships haverk:at sea ‘That sailed away long years ago. Some day they're com! ck to me, But when and how I cadtot know. Sometimes I wander dy the shcre, And watch the far horizon dim, Where yanished in Lioge days of yore My argosies 80 dee! trim, I scan with eager eyes the waves Tuat dance and sparkle in the lights A vision fair my. fond heart craves, Alas! no sail is yet in sight. Ofitimer I find upon the sand A broken plank, a shattered spar, A bent and rusty’ fron band— ‘Oh, voiceless tale of wrecks afar. Thea anxious fears crowd in my breest, And veil the sunshine in the sky. ‘Shall thus my good end their Shall this their fate be by-ard-by © friends with ships far out at sea, ‘Trae auiled away 0 PRINTED IN MANY TONGUES Newspapers That Are Published for the Bene- fit of Foreigners. Twenty-Three Different Languages Are Represented — German and French Most Numerous. From the Bookseller and Newsman. There are 2,200 daily and 15,000 weekly Papers published in the United States, and twenty-three different languages, other thaa English, are represented in the news- paper press of this country. There is only one newspaper published in the Russian language in the United States.” There are five newspapers, all weekly, in the Portuguese language. Of these three are in California, and two are in Massachusetts, at New Bedford and ai Boston. There are four daily newspapers in the Polish language published at Chi- cago, Buffalo, Milwaukee and Baltimore. Besides these there are seven weekly Pol- ish papers at Chicago, six in Pennsylvania, one at Cleveland, one at Toledo and three at Detroit. Most of the periodicals in the Spanish language are trade papers, but there is a daily paper in New York, and at Key West is another. There are four Span- ish papers in Arizona and twelve in New Mexico. One Armenian paper is published in the city of New York, and there are two Chi- nese weekly papers in San Francisco. Five newspapers are publisned in the Finnish language, two in the mine regions of Michi- gan, and one each in Illinois, Minnesota and New York. There are two daily Bo- hemian papers in New York, two at Chi- cago, and one at Cleveland. There are three Danish papers in Chicago, one in Omaha, ore in Racine, Wi and one in Portland, Ore. The Danish papers are, al- Most exclusively, designed for circulation among the farmers, and few of them have any city circulation, though there is one Danish paper published in New York. The indisposition of the French to acquire any other language must account for the large numter of French papers published throughout the Union, even where the French population is inconsiderable. There ‘are French dally papers (read chiefly by French Canadians) at Fall River, Lowell and New Bedford, and one published at Woonsocket, R. I. Seven newspapers are published in the Slavonic language, and of the four in Welsh three are in Utica and its neighborhood. Thirty Swedish newspapers are published, but no daily papers among the number; eleven Norwegian, seven of them in Minne- sota; five Hungarian, one Greek, one Gaelic, one Arabic and eighteen Dutch, nine of which are in Michigan, where the Hol- landers are numerous, one only being pub- lished in the east, in Paterson, N. J. There are two Italian papers in New York and two in San Francisco. There are four papers published in the Lithuanian lan- guage, and twelve, three of them dailies, in the Jewish jargon. German newspapers are published in nearly every state, and German dailies in nearly every large city. ae eS CURIOUS WELL IN HAWAIL Flow of Artesian Water Curiously Regulated by the Clock, From the Hawalian Star. A most curious phenomenon has been ob- served in the flow of an artesian well on Kealia plantation, Kauai. The water has regular variations in its flow, being lowest at 8 o'clock in the morning, gradually ris- ing until it attains its greatest flow at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and then as grad- ually falling until 8 o'clock in the morning. Manager George H. Fairchild of the plantation thus describes the peculiar phe- nomenon: “The top of the pipe is thirteen feet above sea level. At eight feet there is a flow of about 1,000,000 gallons in twenty-four hours. © By adding five feet more of pipe the flow siops. We have had this extra five feet of pipe on top of the well for a month or more, waiting for extra pipe to conduct the water to the mill where it is to be used. We have noticed a peculiar action of this column of water, and I have been unable to find any exptanation of it. If the publication of the yy the Star will lead to an explanation, I will be very much gratified. The column of water in this ditional pipe placed to prevent the flow at 8 o'clock in the morning is at its lowest point one and a half inches below the top of the pipe. Then {t rises until at noon it begins to flow over the pipe. lock, when there is qui From that time it gradually fal until at 11 o'clock at night there isa y slight flow, and this ceases at 1 o'clock in the morning, the water gradually fal until it reaches the lowest point”at 8 o'clock, when it begins to rise again “It has been suggested that this change in flow is due to the tides, or to the rotation of the earth, or to the infiuence of the sun. It is interesting, and I should like a satis- factory explanation. Representative McCandless says regard- ing this phenomenon that in his experience where an artesian well is influenced by the tides the water never rises above sea level. ea QUAINT OLD CURACAO. five feet ad- Scene of Many a Bloody Battle of the Olden Times. From the Chicago Recerd. Curacao is a Dutch colony, and the quaintest little island in the world. It is not bigger than the District of Columbia, but has about 40,000 inhabitants and has played an important part in the history of America, It has belonged at different times to England, Spain and Holland, and its cozy harbor has been the scene of many a bloody battle between the navies of the old world, as well as between the pirates and buccaneers that infested the Caribbean sea for two centuries. It has been for 100 years and still is an asylum for political fugitives, and many of the revo!-tions that rack and wreck the republics on the Span- ish m: are hatched under the shelter of the pretentious but harmless fortresses that guard this port. Bolivar, Santa Ana and many other famous men in Spanish- American history have lived there in exile, and until recently there was an imposing castle upon one of the hills, cailed Bolivar’s tower. There the founder of five republics lived in banishment for several years and waited for rescue. The houses are built in the Dutch style, exactly like these in Holland; the streets are so narrow that the people can almost shake hands through their windows with the neighbors across the way, and the walls are as thick as would be needed for a fort- ress. The Datch governor lives in the solemr-looking old mansion fronting the Skattegat, or lagoon, that forms the har- bor, guarded by a company of stupid-look- ing soldiers with a few old-fashioned can- nons. The commerce of the island is of phosphates, and the government receives a revenue of }500,000 from companies that ship them away. . ‘There ts not a spring or weil, or any fresh | water, and the inhubitants are entirely de- pendent upon rain water for existence, or upon supplies brought in barrels by schoon- ers Crom the Venezuelan coast, ninety miles away, or upon distilled sea’ water. As sometimes it doesn't ruin for a year or two the natural supply is often exhausted, and i glass of imported is worth as much as the sume amount of wine or beer. ——_+«-+_____ HORSES IN WAR, They Feel the Exultation of Battle With Their Riders. Frem the St. Louls Republic. A veteran cavalry horse partakes of the hopes and fears of battle “just the same.as his rider. -As the column swings into line and waits, the horse grows nervous over 4 4 Ne matter how obstinate he was at the start, he will not fail as the lines cover the last fifty feet of space. If a volley comes and he is unhurt, he will lower his head and toss it right and left, and then take a sudden breath for the crash. If charging infantry he will thunder straight at a man and knock him down; if against a line of hersemen, he will lift his head and front feet as if going over a fence. A man seldom cries out when hit in the turmoil of battle. It‘is the same with a horse. Five troopers out of six, when struck by a bullet, are out of their saddies within a minute. If hit in the breast or shoulder, up go their hands and they get a heavy fall; if in the leg or foot or arm they fall forward and roll off. Even with a foot cut off py a jagged piece of shell a horse will not drop. It is only when shot through the head or heart that he comes down, He may be fatally wounded, but he hobbles out of the fight to right or left and stands with drooping head until loss of blood brings him down. The horse that loses his rider and is unwounded himseif will continve to run with his Set of fours until some movement throws him out. Then he goes galloping here and there, neighing with fear and alarm, but will not leave the field. In his racing about he may get among tke dead and wounded, but he will dodge them, if possible, and in any case leap over them. When he has come upon three or four other ‘riderless steeds they “fall in” and keep together, as if for mu- tual protection, and the “rally” on the bugle may bring the whole of them into the ranks in a body. A horse which has passed through a bat- tle unwounded 1s fretful, sulky and ner- vous—the same as a man—for the next three or four days. His first battle is also the making or unmaking of him as a war- hcrse. If the nervous tension has been too great, he will become a boiter in the face of danger, and thereby become a danger in himself. If the test has not been beyond him, he will go into the next fight with head held high and flecks of foam blowing from his mouth as he thunders over the earth. ——— ON THE WAR. MR. DOOLEY Pays His Respects to the Army and Its Leaders. From the Chicago Journal. ~ “Well,” Mr. Hennessy asked, “how goes th’ war?” “Splendid, thank ye,” said Mr. Dooley. “Fine; fine. It makes me hear-rt throb with pride that I'm a citizen iv th’ sixth wa-ard.” ‘Has th’ ar-rmy started f'r Cuba yet?” “Wan ar-rmy, says ye? Twinty! Las’ Choosdah an advance ar-rmy iv wan hun- Gherd an’ twinty thousand men landed fr’m th’ Gussie, with tin thousand cannons hurlin’ projick-tyles weighin’ eight hunderd pounds, sivinteen miles. Winsdah night a second ar-rmy iv injineers, miners, plumb- ers an’ Jawn tennis experts, numberin’ in all four hundherd an’ eighty thousand men, ar-rmed with death-dealin’ canned goods, was hurried to Havana to storm th’ city. Thursdah mornin’ three thousand full rigi- mints iv r-rough_ r-rid swum their hor-rses acrost to Matoonzas, an’ afther a spirited battle captured th’ Rainy Christiny golf links, two up an’ hell to play, an’ vill hold thim again all com Th’ same afthernoon th’ reg’lar cavalry, con-sistin’ iv four hundherd an’ eight thousan’ well- mounted men, was loaded aboard th’ tug Lucy J. an" departed on their earned iv death amidst th’ cheers tv eight millyon sojers left behind at Chickamauga. These cav'Iry'll co-operate with Commodore Schlow, an’ whin he desthroys th’ Spanish flee he does ivry Sundah an’ holy day except in Lent, an’ finds out where the ar-re an’ desthroys thim, after batterin’ down th’ forts where they are concealed so that he can’t see thim but thinks they ar-re on their way fr to fight Cousin George Dooley, th’ cav'Iry will make a dash back to Tampa, where Gin'ral Miles is preparin’ ti desthroy th’ Spanish at wan blow: th’ boy to blow. “The gin'ral arrived th’ other day fully " bloody wurruk iv war. He fam‘ly with him. He r- y into camp mounted on a superb r. As himsilf an’ Uncle Mike in Hennery Miles, an’ Mas- ed cight years, dismounted " specyai train, they were received with wild cheers be eight millyon iv th’ bravest sojers that iver give up their lives fr their couathry. is so pow'rful. th go out, but I have it fr'm th’ speeya jondint iv M: Clancy th’ butcher, Mike Casey, an’ th’ city direchtry that Gin’ral Miles instantly repaired himsilf to th’ hotel, where he made his plans fr er-rushin’ ht aids at wan blow. He 1 will equip th’ ar-rmy with blow-guns at wanst. His uniforms ar’re comin’ down in ted bullyon trains frm mint whare they've been kept fr a He has ordhered out th’ gold resarve r to equip bis staff, numberin’ eight thou- cre clubm . ve his pitchers sh with wan pecyal steel prote blow. Th’ pur-pose iv th’ gin'ral is to y mit no de Decisive action is demand be th’ people. An’ whin th’ hot air m sheens has been sint to th’ front Gin'ral Miles will strike wan bluw that'll be th t blow since th’ year iv th’ big wind . they’se dissinsions in th’ cabi- py don’t amount to nawthin’ icret'y iv war is in favor iv sawin’ th’ h ar-rmy into two-be-four jo iv th’ threeasury has a Scheme f'r thim be lindin’ thim money. Th’ y iv th’ navy wants to sue thim be- th’ Mattsachusetts supreme coort. prisidint is arrangin’ a fure I've heerd tl knee dhriil with th’ idee iv prayin’ th’ vill- yans to th’ divvil. But these differences don’t count. We're all wan people an’ we look to Gin’ral Miles to desthroy th’ Span- ish with wan blow. Whin it comes trees Will be lifted out be th’ roots. Morro cas- tle’ll cave in an’ th’ air'll be full iv Spanish whiskers. A long blow, a sthrong blow; an’ a blow all together. That's the motto iv th’ administhratio: We're a great people,” said Mr. Hen- earnestly. said Mr. Dooley. “We ar-re best iv it is we know we ——————— Running a Blockade. From the St. Louis Republie. General Lew Wallace of Indiana relates an interesting story of how an English vessel ran the blockade of Galveston, Tex., during the late war. He witnessed the feat, and could not understand how the vessel got past the American ships, bom- barded as it was with shot and shell. Af- terward General Wallace met a confeder- ate wha was familiar with the incident. “Do you mean to say,” asked the general of the confederate, “that the blockade run- ner passed In without losing a man?” “Oh, no,” said the confederate; ‘five men were killed at the wheel.” “There is something else I should like to know,” said General Wallace, “and that is the nationality of the man who ran that blockade.” “I'll tell you that,” laughed the confederate, slap- ping his leg; “that man-was a Yankee from the state of Massechusetts.” ee A Story of the Indian Border. From Maemillan’s Magazine. A charming story 1s told of the Kamber Khels, illustrating how cheaply the tribes- men regard human life. Amullah of the tribe once in a moment of candor express- ed his regret to his flock that no sacred man among them had yet been called upon to lay dowa his life for his religion, al- leging that the presence in their midst of the tomb of so holy a man would be of the highest value both from a spiritual and a practical point of view—spirituaily, because the prophet would regard them all hence- forth with greater favor; practically, be- cause devout pilgrims, attracted to the shrine,would enrich the whole tribe by their gifts. The Kambers took counsel together, laid hold of tne mullah and slew him; and then, having erected a suitable shrine over bis corpse, felt that they had done ‘all that was in their power to remove a which reflected upon the whole tribe. . Flints Still in Use. THE SANDS OF TIME How They Are Measured in This and Other Lands. CURIOSITIES OF THE CALENDAR aaipiincioes Various Ways of Determining the Length of the Year. A CENTURY eps WHEN BEGINS Frem the St. Louls Globe-Democrat. That the year starts on the first of Janus ary, and is three hundred and sixty-five days long, is about the extent of most peo- ple’s knowledge of the year. But there are several kinds of years, and they do not ail start on January the fi The lunar year is the time in which the moon travels round the earth twelve times. This is three hune dred and fifty-four days. eight hours, forty- eight minutes long, and is the period of ding time used by thé Jews. It is an exce ly faulty year, being no less than ¢ days shorter than the solar year. To make gcod this defect, the Jews add a thirteenth onth of thirty every third year, but even then they are still three days behind solar time. The solar year is the time in which the earth completes one journey round th this is three hundred and sixty-tiv days, five hours, forty-eight minutes, forty-nine Seconds leng. en there is the sidereal year—the ume required for the earth to travel round the sun and return to the Same position with respect to the sun and @ given fixed star; this is three hundred and Sixty-five days, six hours, nine minutes, nine seconds. The anomalistic year is the period in which the earth travels from peri- helion—the ncarest point to the sun—back to perihelion again. This year consists of three hundred and sixty-tive days, six hours thirteen minutes, forty-nine sec- onds, The Solar Year. It is the solar year which is in universal use; it is generally assumed to be three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter days long. Julius Caesar was the first to intro- duce the leap year, and by adding a day every fourth year making civil and astro- nomic time equal. But the year is really eleven minutes twelve seconds short of three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter days, so that every four years civil Ume became faster than solar time by that amount. But this, though only a small fraction of a year—0.u0778 of a day, to be exact—assumed considerable proportions in the course of centuries. In 1582, twelve hundred years after the adoption of the Julian Calendar, Aloysius Liiius, an Ital- fan astronomer, found that the error amounted to ten days; civil time was, in fact, ten days before the solar time. The pope, Gregory XII, accordingly decreed that ten days should be dropped, October the fifth being called Oct the fifteenth. In order to preveat future errors, it was also directed that every hundredth year should not be counted as a leap year unless the number of the year was divisible by four hundred without remainder. Thus 1000 Was a leap year, but 170) and Iw were not, nor will 19 be a leap year, though 2000 A.D. will be. The changes constituted the Gregorian Calendar, or new style. Variable Dates. The date of Christmas varies only less than that of the New Year. The Eastern Church observed Christmas on January 6, the Abyssinians on June 21 and the Arment- ans still call January 18 Christmas day. Seme churches celebrated it on March 20— the Jewish Passover—and others on Sep- tember 20—the Feast of Tabernacies. But Pope Julius I, w eccupicd St. Peter's chair trom 337 to 352 A. D., fixed Christ- tras day on December 25, and that ever lids been the date. er is the most important Christian ival of the as by its date are fixed all the movabl sts. For the tirst three centuries of the Christian era the Churche: of the East and the West observed Eas’ at different times. The Eastern or Ortho- ox Church, .as it is now called, observed Easter on the same day as the Jewish Passover, the lith Nisan, while the West- ern or Roman Church celebrated Baster Sunday after that date. The Bast- urch fixed Easter by the Jewish whic is full of imperfections. Vi tor, bishop of Rome, commanded the Eas ern Church to observe er on the same date as the Western Church. The former refused, hence a schism between the two The Celtic Church celebrat- ed ut time from either, but Whitby, in O64, the attached itself to the Church of Rome by adopting her time of observing Easter. Depends Upo In 325 A. D. Con % at the English Church fo: maliy council of the Moon. ntire had called to- gether the council of Nicea to fix the date of Easter. As the moon had been full on the night after the crucifixion, it was agreed that Easter must depend upon the phases of the moon, and therefore be a movable feast; and Easter was fixed to occur on the ‘first y after the fuil moon of the spring caui in England the date of Easter is fixed by act of parliament—14 Charles Ii—and also by the rubric of the church. Easter nas a range of thirty-4ve days in which it can fall. The earli a latest April 25. In isIS it fell on March 2: not do so agaia Until 22ss. fell on the latest possible da this had not occurred before sinc 2; 1736— @ hundred and fifty years previously—and nly will not occur again until 1 time next century—and 203s. Sunday thus falls on St. Mark's day, Sunday falis on the Feast of St. Antony, and Corpus Caristi day on St. John the Baptist. 3—the When F Centuries and Months, There are some curious facts as to the days on which centuries and months com- mence. No century can commence on a Wednesday, Friday cr Saturday. The month of October commences on the same Gay of the week as January, except in a leap year. September and December also start on the same week day, and so do February, March and November. The first day of May, June and August never fall on the same week day on which any other month starts. April and July always start on the same day of the week. This year January and October start on a Saturday; February, March and November on a Tues- Gay; April and July on a Friday; Septem- ber and December on a Thursday; June on 4 Wednesday, May on a Sunday, and Au- gust on a Monday. Leap year, however, always throws this little arrangement out of gear. Christmas day always falls on the same day of the week as New Year day, and a year aiways ends on the same Week day as it started. In 1893 January the first fell on a Sunday, and there were thus fifty-three Sundays in the year; this will happen again next year. This occurs only fourteen times in a century. It is also interesting to note that all the dates of this year are the same as those of 188T, The Twentieth Century. Now that this century is so rapidly draw- ing to its close, it will be worth our while point out that the nineteenth century does not finish until December the thirty- first, 1900, and the twentieth commence until January the first, 1901. No doubt there will be many people who will be guided by mere nominal considerations, and prematurely bury the century on De- cember the thirty-first, 1899.