Evening Star Newspaper, July 16, 1898, Page 19

Gi a ee es BOLIVIAN BACKWOODS — <A Country of Vast Resourcer Given Up to Savage Tribes. MUCH OF If STILL UNEXPLORED Among the Forests of Rubber and Cinchona Trees. CHANCE FOR CAPITALISTS al Correspondence of Tie Evening Star. (Copyright, 1898, by Fr: 1k G. Carpenter.) LA PAZ, Bol: ia, June 10, 1898. Bos IS ONE OF the least known countries of the world. Even now the geographers are di puting about its area, and the different es- timates vary by more than 100,000 square mites. The informa- tio. I have on the subject comes from Senor Manuel V. Bal- livian, the president of the La Paz Geo- graphical Society, and one of the best- posted men upon all such matters connect- ed with this country. Senor Ballivian tells me that Bolivia contains more than 597,000 square miles. The same figures are given jn the Statesman’s Year Book and in the volume on Bolivia published by the bureau of American republics at Washington. This is almost one-sixth the size of the whole United States, including Alaska. It is equal to more than ten states as big as New York, bigger than any country of Europe, the exception of Russia, and more France, Great Britain, and and Belgium combined. This vast territory has not as many people as the state of Massachuse I doubt if it figure out as man writing, and the with Greater New York would give at least one and a half souls to every human being now in Rolivia. The population ts estimated at about 2,000,000, all told, and of these I believe that not more than half a million have white bleod in them Think of giving a territory one- this A Napo Indian. of ours nd proportionately The whit the oth so as regards who of the popu! ases practically t La Paz there to one whit t great tically prov ‘al Afric: urious customs 2 met men rland to Paraguay n tells mo there is in London to conn nds with the head o: of the A of a railway w ary between Brazil and Bolivia, n Brazilian soil. The road will p> ou @ of a concession granted io Coi rch some years ago, and its purpose be to carry these cheap cattle to the er camps of the Amazon. Ther» are several other ‘mportant projects to build a railrqads in Bolivia. One is to construct a line from La Paz to the Desuaguadero s line would be sixty-six miles enor Ballivian says it will prob- un this summer. Another scheme Oo extend the Centrai orth Argentine This road is now near and it would pass . and would furnish an antic for Bolivian products. other pians for railroads olivia, and the il of eastern opened up to settlement in Bolivia. difficult to get try. It took me z from the coas' 0 miles. and © Titicaca at lake nd en up in the stage ri La Paz. In going ba take three days of hard 'e to Oruro then ve upon the smallest long, r we of the world in traveling’ for 600 alles over the Andes to the sea. For the same money and the same time I could gomfortably cross the United States from ¢¥ York to San Francisco, a distance al- most five times as great. And still this is what they call easy and rapid travel here. The most of Bolivia is accessible only on mules or on foot. The American minister is arranging to pay a visit to the capital, which is at Suere and about 400 miles from here. Hw will have to take mules or stage for 159 miles to the ratiroad, and, after a Short ride on the cars, will take mules again for a five days’ ride through the mountains to Sucre. I understand that a guard will be furnished him by the Bo- Htian government, though I should judge that the trip would be perfectly safe with- out ft. From Suere to the famous mining town of Potosi is about 100 miles by mule and bridle path, and from Oruro to Cocho- bamba, w is a town of 25,000, it is a three and one-half days’ ride on horse- back. Nearly all of the large towns, if the helf dozen towns of from ten to forty thousard whieh embrace the largest set- tlements of this country can be called argo, ars on the highlands and in the mountairs, and in most cases travel must be on he #s or mule back. The country hotels ar re iike stables than anythin, 1 when on an out-of-the-way roa vst impossible to buy food of the night. You sleep in the inns rms made of stone or sun-dried and eat what you can get. I carry @ camp bed with me, for the native beds gre very dirty. Other necessities are a rub- as Chicago has at | number | ber coat, heavy boots, a vacuna rug and/and he will: make proportionately a great cenned provisions. Tropical Bolivia. This part of Bolivia through which I am traveling may be said to have a temperate climate. La Paz, in fact, is just now a little too cold for spring or fall clothing, and I have pn two heavy suits of under- wear and the same woolen clothes that I wear at home in December. It snowed this { afternoon, Still, a week or so on horseback would take me into tropical Bolivia. The eastern part of this country is one of the richest lands of the world, and I am told j that it will be the great Bolivia of the fu- ture. I have met several men who have gone from La Paz down the rivers which flow into the Amazon and by the Amazon to the Atlantic. They tell me wonderful stories of rubber forests, of trees of wild cotton, of plants with fiber like silk and of vegetation which is so dense as to be al- most impenetrame. They speak also of savages who are cannibals and of other tribes who go about stark naked and re- gard not the laws of God or man. At Lima I met a young German explorer nam- ed Kroehle, who had spent three years in traveling about through the eastern prov- in of Peru and among the Indians of the faraway branches of the Amazon. He had an excellent camera with him, and I have had the good fortune to get some prints from his negatives. Mr. Kroehl3 was | many times in danger of his life. He was twice wounded with poisoned arrows, and he describes the travel through these regions as dangerous in the xtreme. He was for a time among the head hunters of the River Napo im Ecudor and Peru, and the first pictures ever taken of these people wer? made by him. ‘The Napo region is full of queer people. The Indians of one tribe there wear plates of wcod or metal in the lobes of their ears as big around as the bottom of the average tumbier. They have their ears pierced when they are children and at first put bits of grass and twigs in the holes to keep them open. A little later additional tw are inserted and the holes are grad- ually enlarged, until they are as big around a bracelet. I have seen in Burmah and in southern India natives who follow the same custom. It fs not an uncommon thing in Burmah for a woman to carry a cigar made of tobacco wrapped in corn husks and as big around as a broomstick in her ear hole. These Indians go the Burmese one better, but the extra expen- diture they put on thelr ear holes they save on thetr dress, for both women and men go about naked. There are other queer tribes on the Navo. The nver, you know, rises in the Andes of Ecuador and flows a distance of 800 miles before i ties into the Amazon. It 500 miles from its mouth b; boats. small steam- The Javary river, which flows be- tween Brazil and Peru, is said to be 1,800 mi Ic and the Ucayli, another branch vigable to Borja a distance of from the Atlantic. Think of a stream running across the United States frcm New York to far beyond Salt Lake City, and let this be navigable for small steamers and you have an idea cf the pos- sibilities of trade on these Amazon branches. The Beni is another Amazon branch which flows through Bolivia, and the Mamora and Guapon are other long navigable waterways. Among the Cannibals. All of these tropical districts of Peru and Bolivia contain curious tribes. There are some cannibals among them who eat the flesh of their enemies and do not seruple to serve up baby roasts and woman stews upon occasion. Some of the pictures that Mr. Kroehle took were of the cannibal tribes. He calls them the Cachiro Indians and says they live along the River Pachi- ich of the Amazon. Others of regions use blow guns and poisoned arrows. The arrows are made of iron wood, tipped with flint: poisoned at the points. Ti : from ten to twelve feet long. The Indians use these weapons for killing their game as well as for their wars. The slightest serateh he arrow will cause death, and, strange to say, the poison does not injure t!. meat of the animals killed by it. The r xing of this poison ts kept a secret by tue Indians. I am told it is made by stick- g the arrows in putrified human flesh hich has already been poisoned in some r way. The poison acts very quickly and causes death within a few moments. On the Pachitea there are Indians who cut their hair close and who look much like negroes, though their hair is brown. The women wear waist clothes, but their legs and the upper parts of their bodies are bare. In trading with these people it is ary to carry nck of goods with do not y, and all of Not a few of them have gold to e kniv American har n out of the streams and bring ‘t to the tr: ers in nuggets and eoarse dust. They will not take coin at all unless each piece has ole In it. They use such pieves to make Klaces. It is séldom that any of these ange for ha j | | wash the gold people cultivate the land. There are plenty of fruits, and things grow so easily that ull that is necessary to get a crop is to tick In the seeds or plants. They burn over the ground and plant without plow- ing. Corn at four months and onions, bea: In the of the planta- f sug » is cut when nine months old and th iks will produce for twe ars. In the Rubber Forests of Botivia. It is estimated that Bolivia now produces 4,000,000 pounds of rubber a year, and that the total annual product of the Amazon forests 1s over 45,090,000 pounds. There are rubber camps scattered all along the branches of the Amazon, and the most of the product is shipped down that river to Para cnd thence to the, United States or to Europe. Within the past year cr so rubber has been coming into La Paz from the forests rear here, and I learn that this is one of the few good businesses ot Bolivia. I had a chat last night with Mr. A'berto Vierland, an Austrian, who is largely interested in Bolivian rubber and quinine plantations. In speaking of the rubber forests near here he said: “All of the best lands have been taken up, but they are in the hands of people Two Wives of a Rubber Hunter. who have not capital to develop them and are amxious to sell. The gathering of rub- ber is very costly. The Indians who do the work will insist on being paid In ad vonee. The regions are always unhealthy, as rubber grows only in low, marshy soil, and the best trees are those which have their roots under water for a part of the year. The Indians are afraid of getting sick, and they demand high wages, and will stay with you only for a limited time.” “Is there much good rubber land in Bolivia?” I asked. “Yes, there is plenty of soil here that will grow the rubber tree,” said Herr Vier- land, “but so far the rubber all comes from the forests. I know of only one cultivated rubber plantation in the country, and this bas about 100 trees. In the forests you often find as many as 6,000 trees to the square mile. I have seen groves of 10,000. The trees usually grow in the valleys be- low the eastern slopes of the Andes. They are of ail sizes, from as big as your leg to the giant of the forest, 150 feet high, and so large that threé men could not, by joining hands, reach around it. The tree which produces the best rubber of com- merce is known as the Symphonia Elastica. We have plenty of gutta percha trees, but these have not yet been worked.” - A Chance for Capitnlists. “Is there much profit in the rubber busi- ness here?” I asked. , there is a great deal of money to be made out of it, but only by the use of large capital. No man can do much with- out twenty-five or fifty thousand dollars, | deal more ff he has one hundred thousand dollars. With this amount he ought to net from 60 to 70 per cent a year. There is no trouble for capitalists to get rubber forests. The best of the lands upon which such trees grow are now in the hands of Cholos, or Bolivians with Indian blood in them. They have taken up the lands of the government and have no money te work them.” “How do you get the rubber from the trees?” “It comes out in the form of a milky white sap,’ was the reply. “At the begin- ning of the dry season the trees are gashed with a chisel about an inch broad. A little tin cup is fitted to the tree under each gash and the sap oozes out and drops down into the cup. Several gashes are made in each tree, en the Indian has gashed a num- ber of trees he stops and collects the milky sap from the cups. He pours it into a tin pail and carries it to the headquarters of the camp. He places it somewhere in the shade and then builds a fire to smoke it. This fire is made of wet wood or palm nuts, and it ts so arranged as to give a dense smoke. Now the Indian takes a wooden shevel or spoon and covers it with milk. He then thrusts it into the smoke and rapidly turns it about. As the smoke touches the rubber-milk it coagulates and turns from the color of rich cream to a light gray. He coats his shovel again and again and at last has a ball of rubber upc? it. This ts cut off and-laid away to be shipped to the markets. A number of the balls are put into nets. These are slung on the backs of mules or donkeys and are thus taken to Chililaya, on Lakg Titicaca or La Paz. We have to watch e Indians that they do not put stones or dirt into their balls of rubber to make them weigh heavier. This is the case when they are paid by the work done rather than by the day.” The Land of Quinine. This is the land of quinine. The bark of the cinchona tree, from which quinine is made, is called Peruvian bark, but it would be more in accord with the facts to call it Bolivian bask. The best quinine of tho world is made from the bark of trees grown in the state of La Paz, and Bolivia far exceeds Peru in the number of her A Cannibal. quinine trees. There are millions of trees here growing on plantations set out to make money out of the quinine market. These plantations were established when quinine was high and b2fore some of the Bolivian trees had been taken to India and Ceylon to start plantattons there. As a re- sult of the Indian plantations the market became overstocked, and quinine fell. The bark which in 1882 brought here in La Paz $220 in _ Bolivian money a hundredweight now sells for frcm $16 to $18 a hundred- weight; considerirg the difference in the- value of the Bolivian doliar by the fal! of silver, for about one-thirti2th what it sold for sixteen years ago. The fall of prices ruined a great many of the Bolivian cap- itelists. More than $3,600,000 were invested in such estates by pecple of La Paz, and the foreign houses who had advanced money on then were severely hurt. The bark at one time was so low that it did not pay to cut and carry it to the markets, and today, while there is somewhat of a |, the margin of prefit in the business small. I see loads of cinchona bark here every day. They are brought in to the ex- porters on little donkeys or mules, each of which carries a bundle on each side of S back of about 100 pounds each. The m of this bark comes frog wild trees which g:ow in the head waters of the Beni and Madera rivers. It is carried for many miles through the forests on men’s backs, and then loaded on the donkeys which bring it to La Paz. As far as I can leara, there is no money to be made in the qui- nine business by foreigners. Any number of good plantations can be bought. A rich planter of interior Bolivia told me today that he could buy me 800,000 trees if T wished them for less than 8 cents of our money a tr These trees would .be from six to ten yzars of age and in prime condi- tion for cutting down for quinine. This man said that the trees would each pro- duce at least four pounds of bark. Quinina trees are planted nine feet apart, and at five years of age an orchard is ready for thé market. The trees are then chopped dewn and stripped of their bark. Sprouts spring up the following season from the stumps and at the end of five years there is another crop. > cinchona trees grow wild aimost everywhere that the rubber thee grow hey are often very tall and have a magnificent crown of foliage, which zt the quinine hunter can pick it cut a long distance in looking over the trees of a forest. FRANK G. CARPENTER. ONE OF JAPAN'S ODD RACES. Ainos of Japan Who Had Never Seen a Foreigner. From the Century Mrgazine. In the summer of 1896, as a lay member of the Amherst College expedition which visited northern Japan to view the total eclipsé of the sun, I had the rare oppor- tunity of seeing the absolutely primitive “hairy Aino” of that region, says Mrs. Ma- bel Loomis Todd. In the southern portion of the island, near Hakodate and Sapporo, and about Volcano Bay, travelers have visited these shy and silent people. But several hun- dred miles north are many Ainos, who, un- til the summer of 1806, were strangers to the members of any race but their own or the few Japanese who are establishing small fishing villages along the coast. The dwellers in the province of Kitami are too distant to be sought by visitors; and a for- eign woman, the Japanese officials inform- ed me, had never before reached Kitami. Skirting the rough western coast by steamer, and rounding Cape Soya, the eclipse party located at Esashi, which must not be confused with another town of the same name near Hakodate. The news of the arrival of strange white foreigners spread quickly among the neighboring vil- lages. Walking with stately tread, bushy- haired and bearded groups of Ainos often passed the expedition headquarters, appar- ently looking for nothing-unusual, and giv- ing no evidence of curiosity, yet never fail- ing to see every foreign gigure within their range. Humbly accom: ying their lords, women and children frequently followed, far less imposing than the men. Somewhat larger, and apparently stronger than the Japanese, althovgh sot taller, the older men are actually patriarchal, with long beards, and masses of thick hair parted in the middle. Many faces have a benign and lofty expression. Driven gradually through ages from the south to Hokkaido, the Ainos are among the few races yet retaining, in this over- civilized world of ours, an utterly unspoiled simplicity. Their origin has never been satisfactorily traced, but they were certain- ly in Japan long before the present race of Japanese had arrived, the names clearly originating in the Aino tongue, are still re- tained all over the empire. Gentle and sub- servient to the conquering race, it is evi- dent that they formerly held more ego- tistie views than now, even fancying them- selves the center of the universe, as is shown perhaps by an old national song: Gods of the sea, open your eyes divine, ‘Wherever your eycs turn, there echoes tho sound of the Aino speech, A True Sport, From Puck. Miss Johnson—“T heah you'se washin’ dishes at de hotel and makin’ four dollahs a week, reg’lar; deedy me! You'se makin’ ‘nough to get married on Mr. Jackson (airily)—“Oh, yes! But I-pre- ion to remain single and lead a sporting fer’ —~-— e+ —____ Just as Embarrassing. From Life. Maud—So you're going on the stage this fall. Won’t it embarrass you to appear iu tights? - y—Oh, dear, no! I expect to wear a bathing suit this summer, you know.” THEIR UNHAPPY LOT Prench Soldiers Subjected to Many Petty Annoyances. LOCKED UP FOR TRIVIAL OFFENSES Even the’ Officers Have Much to Complain About. MUST MARRY FOR MONKEY Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, July 7, 1898. WOULD * RATHER go into a Paris cafe or brasserie with a French conscript than accompany a British volunteer in- to a high-class Lon- don ber or restau- rant, because the Frenchman would be sure of courteous treatment, while the free-born Briton might easily be told, “We don’t serve com- mon soldiers.” Tommy Atkins, while off duty and in uniform is always made to feel that he is a common person. The theaters want him only in the upper gallery or the pit. He knows better than to venture a re- mark to a well-dressed city clerk on the top of an omnibus. Barmaids in the com- mon “publics” treat him with superior cool- ness. Shop girls utterly disdain him. Only nursemaids in the parks are kind to him. On the other hand, I would prefer to be a British soldier while on duty, for the mere matter of the “police hall’ is capable of making the French conseript’s life a burden to him. ‘The police hall is a long cell, with heavy bolted doors and small, barred windows. These cells are always full of honest Frenchmen serving in the army without Day and with not much enthusiasm. Some- times the “motives” assigned for the ‘pun- ishment” are in the ordinary line of disci- pline, as: “Four days of consigne, order of Sergeant Rossarelli, to soldier of the second class, Oignon, for having invited a comrade to drink in an establishment of the fourth class, and, at the moment of paying, de- claring himself to have no money.” Or as: “Two days of consigne, order of Corporal Vasseur, to soldier of the second class, Malet, for having soiled a mess room towel by enveloping in it a piece of ham destined to his repast.'’ But who is safe from pun- ishment like the following: “Efght days of police hall to Corporal August Bezola, order of the captain, for having made allusion to late political events during his instruction hour?’ Or the following: “Four days of consigne, order of Sergeant Ravel, to the soldier-reserviste Bondon. Being at the can- tonnement he profited by a moment of a sentinel’s distraction to pull a hair from his horse tailjwith Which to repair u fisniag line?” i The Original Martinet. The meat trifiing breaches, not only of discipline, Dut of mere etiquette, are so se- verely punished |by that species of French officer called martinet that a new word has thereby’ béwa added to most languages, and when accdunt is taken of the easy-going jeniency of the more aristocratic type of officer the French soldier's lifé will be seen to be strewn with deceptions. For exam- ple, the other day a dragoon brigadier of my acquaintance was obliged to present himself to the sergeant of the guard. Now, the soberly dfessed infantry are jealous of the gayly costumed cavalry, and never lose a chance to show it. “How!” exclaimed the infantry sergeant. “You have the aplomb te come to me for a permission wearing your dress kepi and your patent leather boots! The planton will conduct you to the officier de service!” It happend that this official was a brilliant young dragoon captain of the easy-going, aristocratic type. Who sent you here?’ he asked. “That infantry sergeant downstairs? But it locks very well on you, that kepi. You are free.” “Thanks, my captain,” said the offender of etiquette! gratefully, and retired to brag of his victory to a brother dragoon. “Don't be unea: You can go to the of. ficer of the guard in fancy dress. I did it.” Relying on the adventure, the other went down to the place the next day without taking the trouble to put on undress boots and cap. “Another of these dandy dragoons wear- ing full dress garments out of service!’ cried the sergeant. “They will take you to the officier de service “Much I care,’ thought the gay éragoor. But this time he found a grim old captain of infantry, who wrote out the following slip to him without delay: “Four days of police hall for thé briga- Gier Bechut. Order of the captain. Hay- ing a permission to be signed, he presented bimself to the sergeant of the guard in his patent leather boots and full dress kepi, to the detriment of his uniform, the service end good manners. The Tyrannous Petty Officer. Last week a private soldier, the brother of a barber of my acquaintance, had full afternoon “permission” and had planned a highly amusing outing for himself. But as be was passing out the barracks gate, the sergeant, sitting there in a cool shadow, coloring a meerschaum pipe that he had blackmailed from a newly arrived con- script, called out “Halt!” Phen he began: “Do you disgrace the service by gcing out on your permission with a head of hair like that? Go to the barber of your com- pany and have it cut!” So a half hour was wasted. “Halt!” the humorous petty officer ex- claimed again, as the unlucky fellow start- ed out a second time. “You have a button loose there.” Ten minutes more lost, sew- irg on button. Then it was, in succession, “Halt! Have you the nerve to go out with those dirty gloves?” and “Halt! Do me the favor to go back and give your shoes a better Social Climax of the “Poor Officer.” polishing,” and ‘Halt! Hum! You appear to be all right this time. Remember in the future I net your nurse or valet; and attend to small trifies of your toilet on your own acgount.” - The British soldier could never be made to tolerate such nagging, nor would his uperiors consider it good for him. He is a volunteer, who has freely offered to fight for his coun! and his monthly pay. Everything is e to make the service at- tractive to courageous but lazy young men, The theery of the French conscription, having nothing to do with the difficulties of enlistment. is that for its drafted men “severity is the mother of discipline.” But the great public is not deceived in elther case. It reasons that the British soldier, having freely enlisted in what is, after all, @ poorly paid service; must have had little to leave, and treats him accordingly. The queen’s uniform becomes a badge to mark the unsuccessful young man who cannot get along, or will not get along, at any other occupation. Shielded by Hia Uniform. The French soldier, to the contrary; finds his uniform a real masquerading disguise; for, as every young Frenchman must do his three years’ enforced military service, the cherry-colored pantaloons amy just as well. conceal the legs of an aristocrat and millionaire, as those of a dog stealer. On , SATURDAY, JULY Y6, T80s Sa PAGES, duty his officer may it expedient fo Yak lite into abegh ty suai noneel. mastering. It is true that he regularly has no vocation for arms, and does not want to be a soldier. He is only a civilian goin through a soldier’s training; and as such he may need harsher treatment than the British volunteer, who has given tae best proof he really wants to be a soldier. But off duty the French conscript cannot help getting all the social consideration due to his disguising uniform. 1 have s¢en such acne, in uniform, accompanying his moth- er to church—and she a duchess. I have seen another, just behind him, enter the same church—and he the son of a poor peasant woman, who assists her husband in a suburban truck pateh. Each had the military bearing. At first sight you could searcely have told them apart. It results from all this that the French private soldier might go anywhere in uni- form where he might go as a civilian, were it not for the embarrassing presence of his superior officers. In the ordinary garrison towns there is an understanding that cer- tain cafes and restaurants must be left sacred to this hierarchy. It is not as if the citizens objected to the presence of the rank and file in uniform. Nor would any officer, if questioned, admit any personal repugnance to sitting in the same room with one of his privates. He would simply say that “the thing is embarrassing ail around,” and that “it is not done.” In these garrison towns the military element outweighs ali others. Often there are not enough civilians to dilute the military clien- tele of a cafe to anything like the propor- tions of a mixed assembly. It is not fitting that officers and men should mingle social- ly. And they could not help mingling un- comfortably should both classes frequent the same brasseries, cafes and restaurants. Two-thirds of the rank and file, indead, would never need to be restricted so. Sons of poor or moderately weil off parents, it would not occur to them to disport in Places of expensive entertainment on their holidays. But the other third might feel considerable hardship but for the sustatn- ing thought that, after all, the thing ia only temporary, and that in a couple of years they are to put off ihe uniform and be themselves again. When Max Lebaudy was at Belfort it was amusing to observe him dodging his superiors, and the incon- gruity of his position and his tendencies furnished the inhabitants of the little tewn with continual entertainments Lebaudy Solved a Difficulty. Although an insignificant little place, Bel- fort is one of the most important strategic points on the Alsatian frontier. It is over- run by infantry, artillery and hussars, and you will see twice as many soldiers as civ- illians on its streets. It has only two cafes and three restaurants of any pretension to the first class, while its one theater is re- spectable but intermittent, and its two music halls are ordinary. Lebaudy had his own rooms in the town, where he might have entertained his friends to his heart's content whenever he could get a leave of absence; but open jollity and display were dear to the rich young spendthrift, and he yearned for the officers’ cafes and restau- Called Down, by the Colonel. rants. He was at home in the two music halls, which the officers might not frequent because of their dignity, and he cared nothing for the theater. But he could not endure it to go continually to the railway hotel restaurant for-the delicate eating which his company’s soup pot could not furnish to him. At last he hit upon the simple expedient of ordering his occasional spreads in the banqueting room, on the second floor, of the best restaurant of the town. He had to pay for the use of the big room, but that was nothing to Lebaudy. The difficulty was to get to the banquet af- ter it was ordered. To pass through the rooms full of officers downstairs was out of the question. To make use of any side door was equaily impossible. There was nothing but to rent the house next door and have a way cut through in the parti- tion! In the Larg®r Cities. In the great cities like Marseilles, Bor- deaux and Paris the French soldier finds no such social difficulties while he wears his uniform. It would be as unnecessary as impossible to make any such list of places of public entertainment. If he have the money to pay for it, the private in uni- form may occupy the best seat in the house at a matinee of the Comedie Fran- caise or the Grand Opera. He will have no more officers to salute than he would on the Boulevard des Italiens. As for the res- taurants and cafes, there are so many, while the private soldiers on leave of ab- sence are so few that there is no reason why the well-to-do young conscript should not take his pick of them whenever he has the opportunity. Where the civilian ele- ment is so preponderating, the military eti- quette of the small towns has no reason for existence. A private would scarcely put himself down beside an officer; but he could not be expected not to enter an establish- ment because an officer might be there. It is a mere salute when they do meet—as in the street. Of course there is a great deal of saluting, and it must be done with prop- er ceremony and respect. When a French conscript out on leave walks down the Paris boulevard at 5 p.m. his hand is going to his head continually. But he is always able to console himself with the reflection that the matter is almost as annoying to his superiors as to himself; while for the rest it is a part of his three years’ ordeal of patriotism. He does not choose to be a soldier, and he will’ be glad when it is over. And, finally, he knows that the person real- ly to be pitied is oftener the officer than himself. Horrors of Peace. The French military officer, who has no private fortune, finds his only resource in a wealthy marriage. His social position gives him great opportunities in this re- gard; and if he does not take advantage of them he has only himself to blame. Should he be so unhappy as to marry a poor girl, he will be subjected through life to many a humiliation, ~ One of these “poor officers” has just been describing to me some scenes from mili- tary life which might be fitly entitled “The Horrors of Peaci ‘My dear sir,” he said in ending, “there has been only one corps and one period in the present century in which it was truly agreeable to serve. That was in the Royal Guard under the restoration. When an officer got into debt, his colonel had him up and said to him: ‘Monsieur, the king pays your debts.’ Then the poor officer made others. The colonel had him up again, and said: ‘Monsieur, your colonel Pays your debts.’ And if the-poor officer made other debts again, the colonel said to him, this time severely: ‘Monsieur, your comrades will pay your debts.’ Only then for punishment they passed him down the line one grade.” It ‘seems that things are much changed under the republic. The’actual state of Europe, when peace sits enthroned on bayonets and all the nations are forced to keep up great armies, it is necessary to pay soldiers next to nothing and officers as lit- tle as possible. “Why, I have dreaded to go out on pa- rade while it was raining!” exclaimed the “poor officer,” “because I knew that it would ruin my dolnran when I scarcely had the means to buy a new one!” - STERLING HEILIG. — Sagacious Sagasta. From the Philadelphia North American. Sagasta—“Hooray! We'll soon have those American pigs where we want them.” The Queen—‘How?” Sagasta—“Why, your majesty, before long we won't have any more warships to de- Stroy; then what will they do?” ——_+o-____ Decidedly. From Life. 3 Briggs.—“That was a great dance. I hope I made an impression on tiat girl.” Griggs.—“I guess you did. She has been limping ever since." ART AND ARTISTS ‘The sessions’ of the National Educational Association which were given over to art education attracted a large number of the local residents who ar: interested in such matters, and a very appreciative audience listened to the papers and to the subse- quent discussions at the Luther Memorial Church on Monday. Mr. William Ordway Partridge, who was to have mad> the first address, was not in the city, and his paper was read by Mr. Allen C. Clark. The sculp- tor’s subject was “The Function of Art in the Education of the American Citizen,” and he touched rather lightly on the dif- ferent .aspects of the question, his paper being more in the nature of a golden proph- ecy than a careful exposition of the infly ence which art may exert. His words struck a popular chord, and he veliced the scntiment of a majority of his hearers when he said, “Sanity should be our watch- word.” Mr. Edmund Clarence Messer, who led the discussion, supported Mr. Partridge in this sentiment, and he made an earnest protest against decadence in art. He dis- cussed the subject in a very conservative way, pointing out some of the obstacles and giving many timely warnings. We near so many people speak about the elevating in- fluenc> of art, as though that much might be taken for granted, that Mr. Messer’s re- marks on that point are of especial valu He emphasized the fact that art is not e sentially moral, and that its influence may be as powerful for evil as for good if the artist has low ideals. Sincerity and earn- estness chracterized Mr. Messer’s talk, and it had the two-told value of coming from a painter of abiiity and one who has had long experience and much success in the instruction of students. Mr. John S. Clark of Beston and Mr. J. 8S. Ankeney of Car- thage, Mo., also helped to make the pro- gram ah interesting one. * x« * Miss Alice Archer Sewall left the city on the 11th of the month for York, Me., where sh2 has spent previous summers. * Miss Sara Bartle™ wilt probably be en- Joying the salt breezes of Narragansett bay before the coming week is far spent, and she plans to remain there during the greater part of the summer, though she may go somewhere in the mountains later on in the season. She Will be within easy striking distance of Newport, where she stayed last year, and she will thus be able to carry out several commissions which she regeived last summer at that center of fashionable gayety. Miss Bartle has just finished a likeness of Mrs. Sam- uel F. Emmons, a tiny miniature painted for a locket, and consequently demanding the most exquisite delicacy of eyecution. Another miniature, which she has started from an old-fashioned daguerreotype, she will work on at odd intervals while she is away this summer. * * x One of the most striking portraits that Mr. W. H. Coffin has yet done is the three- quarter-length figure of Miss Geraldine | Farar, which he finished a short time ago. The head is especially weil done, being painted with broad, firm strokes that ex- press the modeling in a decided way, and at the same time the artist has preserved the softness and delicacy of the flesh te: ture in quite a satisfactory manner way in which the hair is handled is also worthy of commendation. Miss Warar Wears a pleasant, haif-mischievous smile, and her face is alive with expression. Mr. Coffin has placed the figure ayainst a deep red background, which gives richness and splendor to the color scheme, and the ef- fect of the ensemble is extremely agreca- ble. The likeness of Mrs. Stcry, which he completed a short time ago, is by no means as daring a piece of work as his portrait of Miss Farar, but it has a certain elegance and dignity and is drawn with more than usual care. Mr. Cefn will start soon on a three weeks’ wheeling t which will inziuae Luray, &e., and he plans to give ime almc entirely to recreation, with perhaps ju: enough sketching to keep nis hand in. * * x The banks of the Eastern branch have become familiar to the picture-loying public through the views of this locality which Mr. Daniel Rose has exhibited from time to time, and he still finds interesting sub- jects there without apparently dimini: 4 the supply of good material. In one of these studies, a rapid sketch in oil, show- ing a bit of water end a stretch of with a well-massed group of trees, ther a particularly nice quality of color though fend of quiet color combinati: Mr. Rost seldom fails to make agreeable in that respect. for rather subtle effects in light and sia: as weil as in color, and he is now at w upon a subject which involves a very deli- cate adjustment of sunlight and shadow. Though a trifle lacking in force in its pres ent unfinished state, the work ds full of artistic feeling and promises to be a suc- cess. * * * Miss Robertson, who is one of Prof. Schwariz’s pupils, showed her skill in the decoration of china in the figure which she exhibited at Veerhoff’s during the carly part of the week. A beautiful girl, clad in Greek costume, her dark hair bound with fillets, stands beside a fountain with her water jar. The pensive attitude of the fig- ure is extremely graceful, and there is a pleasing harmony of color in the costume and accessories. Every part of the panel is painted with the most conscientious care, and a close inspection only reveals an ad- ded delicacy of execution. * * * In the out-door studies which Mr. Edgar Nye has been painting recently he strikes an entirely new note and introduces in his werk a strength of color anda solidity that he has never before shown. His pictures have always possessed many artistic quali- ties, but his work has gained greatly of late through his more careful study of na- ture, and there is an accuracy in his ren- dering of colors and tonal relations that marks a great advance. One of the truest things that he has done this summer is a glimpse of a sunny roadway which tel wonderfully in contrast to the dark masses of foliage which are nearer to the eye. The same veracity marks a large wood interior that he has been painting, a sketeh of a fence corner in full sunlight, and many other canvases that have been occupying his attention. * * Mr. Ernest L. Major, who has been living in Boston for some years, returned to Washington for a short visit about two Weeks ago, and expects to remain in <he city or in the near vicinity for a month or more. He is deeply interested in art edu- cation, having been connected with the school at the Boston Art Club for a short time after his return from abroad, and be- ing at present an instructor in the Massa- chusetts State Normal School, and came to the city partly to take part in the N. E. A. convention. Mr. Major says that the aim of the instructors In the Boston Nor- mal Art School is primarily to turn out teachers and not professional artists, but they believe that a competent teacher should possess a good measure of artistic ability as well as theoretical knowledge, and a very high standard has consequenily been maintained. He plans to do some work in portraiture while he is here, and will doubtless devote a little time to landscape work, as he expressed himself as greatly John Patten | s | @reeley pleased with the natural features of Surrounding country as it appears to after an extended absence. > A CIVILAZING FORCR. Potatoes of tory. As Hawkins got on the car to go last night Simp Star a letter fr at Tempa ir of which Uncle nov ad. son was reading from m one of the District > the bill of fare q “Brown gravy! Fr beefsteak! bread! Milk! Oatmeal! Hot bis ! Stop the Simpson,” | Hawkins, “You'll take away nm for dinner. Simpson re: 1 the paragraph through the end of the list of good things the bol jare trying to get away with from day you know, Simpson, what we eal tured Vicksburg on? Just pork and t That was all, and cooked ¥ ino ess kettles. Do you know what the bo| ore Gettysburg? For a week tt aw] nothing but hard tack and pork sco! on a stick. Some of the time it was ing but a hole or two tighter in the bel + the day of the fight at Malvern @ were thousands of men that did not a bite to eat for thirty-six hours. We ww at Lookout mountain on parched just took it right out of the fields, Sticks in the cobs and roasted th © ears. the campfires. Godd? ell, I tell you jsimply was. What do you think we whi jPed the Johnnies on at the bat | thage in '61?7 Watermeions, ; Just jWatermelons. We had marched tl miles ahead of our wagons and ti wasn’t a thing along the road to feed | until came to a big field of ‘mill phat some trusting Missourian had for. A is and Chicago market boys tumbled over that ol d those melons wi > cats. Do you know I Te you at Vicksburg or Getty: 2 You at ettysburg4 “Simpson, I Fourth of July occupation celebrated that gloriot in 1863 in the tgnoming of guarding a mule pen at Hollow, in I had bad place called Pigson state of Iinois. the war. i the very. bij or killed—hal me in some mali of-the-way place. But it was a great war, an| I'am proud to have been in it. We ha brave men to fight us, and they gave u @ good long job. Do you know, Simpsor I have alw had ¢ r view of thi hot struggle. It was this way: The soutn wal used to hog and hominy. We up nert had to have wheat bread and beef. Thi is a pretty good equation. You take hun¢red thousand men fed an hog am homiry and a hundred thousand fed © Wheat and beef, and it is hard to say whic will whip. They can fight a long whil and still stand even. “What gave us the victory was the po| tato, Simpson. If we up north had mol been used to eating good, old white potal toes we might have been fighting the John| nies yet. The potato is a mark of a sul perlor civilization. Nations that eat § lead in the march of human progress, Wot may get the best of men and guns, but fi you have not plenty of potatoes for a bas of supplies you haven't an army. Beel | May strengthen and hard tack fill, but 4 potato braces and regulates the wholt system. No’ —_ see there is a New York school’ o| opposition to the use of the potato fo! food,” interrupted Simpson. “Perfect fan: Simpson—haven't grain of good You can depend o1 it, there isn’t one of them i Cuba. Don’t you believe them. Go bac! on the potato! Why, the man who woul do that is as bad as a traitor. You can al. most read th y of your country 4 the potatoe ave had. Do you remem: . the old Mercer potato? An: nd the Peachblow? My a potato fit for the n the army fi gods lays those were back on the ol rm when it c e in the spri: u plant the Peachblows. We boys used. t Set up early in the morning chores in a hurry. Then we would bri those beautiful pink and whft out of the cellar and proceed to « up. And the discussions we had « they should whether into two eyes. There was always a disputel about the stem end pme said it was| ght-to plant it and some said it brought small potatoes and few in the hill. What! a pity It did seem to cut up and put in the | ground those splendid strawberry blonde potato The eyes seemed almost human | tO us boys and looked at us reproachfully) | 48 our sharp knives went through ar | ed off the seed pieées. Then we pieces into the furrow and c them | deep either with a shovel plow or with S, and always some neighbor on the way. to or from the post office would come and n over the fence and tell us that Horace or Solon Robinson or séMme other gentleman farmer said it paid better to your potatoes whole. eat Scott, Simpson e now for som d lean on and talk to me and do up th be cut, w I wish I had neighbor to come n hour or tw ¢<| That’s the kind of a call that brings re pleasure. We would keep on dropping the potatoe t and higher as we ; ther end of the rows, and t an octave or two as we dr where he was. I remember th lute and spot where old Dea told me the first I ever h antic cable. He was le ck walnut rider on the fence be- tween our place and the Longerbeam farm, and we were planting potatoes “Do you remember when the came in, Simpson? That was a great dis- covery. We have it yet, while the Peach- blow of blessed memory has gone from us as surely as the Great Auk or the Dodo. I can remember father paying a dollar a pound for the first Early Roses we had. | They were $40 a bushel at first, and Stayed so for quite a while. Then there were the Russets, and the Neshannocks, and the Mohawks, and the Chilis, and ‘the Pink- eyes, and the Carters. They are all gone now, and not one man, woman or child in a hundred can tell the name of the potato he or she may eat for breakfast or dimmer. I hear ftow and then of the Freeman, and the Rural New Yorker, and the Carman, but I'll be blessed if I'know them when I see them. I think I know the Burbank, | the poorest apology for a potato. Oh, for the potatoes of my boyhood——” “Here's your street,” said the conduetor, and Hawkins jumped up hurriedly and rushed off the car. As his foot touched the pavement called out to Simpson: K om d ning « line Tillotson the a big Early Rose he “I tell you the potato is a mighty forca old jodern civilization. Good night, ee Trades Followed by Animals, From Tit-Bits. Bees are geométricians. The cells corstructed as. with the least quantit; material, to have the largest spa the least possible less of intersec’ mle is a meteorologist. The torpedo, ray and the electricel are electricians. Th nawtilus #& a navigator; he raises and low- ers his sail, and casts and weighs anghur, and performs other nautical acts. Whole tribes of birds are musicians. Caterpillars are silk spinners. The squir- rel is a ferryman; with a chip or piece of bark for a boat, and bis tail for a sail, he ercsses the stream. The beaver is an architect, builder and weedcutter; Le cuts down trees and erects houses and dams. The marmot is a civil engineer; he not only builds houses, but constructs aqueducts and drains to keep them dry. The white ants meintain a regular army of soldiers. “Why don’t Quigg and his flances eet married?” “They both spent so ry gin 3 tivate each other that t can't it.”"—Brooklyn Life. to cap. afford ———— EVEN A CANNON HAS ITS USES, (Copyright, 1898, Life Publishing Company.)