Evening Star Newspaper, July 30, 1898, Page 14

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1898-24 PAGES. ” ricans visiting Eu- souvenirs in the tarted the vuvenirs, which ery city ht the ere were repre- ything and place. After craze somewhat abated, ‘ecently that it has ago A nging ons, and t cting 5 eloped ir cus- haml inali sures were turned and spoons as high as $50 each were ly bought by the wealthy. The n this country than anywhere ap effects nearly drowned out jea, and the handsome useful articles gave way to commonplace tin affairs given away with boxes of candy. ‘The first fine souvenir spoon in this coun- try after the craze started was “The Salem tch." It was brought out in Salem, Mass., and associated the old city with its s Tae idea was hat boasted any and extended even to spoons collected from the ies were put to practical use, esigns got handsomer they a part of the cabinet collection. but as it prov tty idea, but a very rove a pretty idea, but a ve up a line of conversation that recalls pieas- | ant recolleciions. Th ar there has been a decided re- vival of the idea, and ever y is cotlect- | ing again. The designs to run to | naval and milit and now there re spoons repres all our naval and milit is a Hebson | of Me! the @-ring ch ago har- pic ken pper to 1 there is Dewey with his flag | and Sampson with the New York and | sturdy Brooklyn. Roose- Ss are commemorated by handsome one it too, tars and flag of Cuba d_ together. wined with the spoon is very the princip owl, has h youn wi ship Maine * were ious pviding pre street Shylocks and well-knows ape the remarked far short is » more harm t to those i te fi I have t gard t veral of them, as | 4 in the banking | ty, and was forced, as | to report against them. | hort of the matter is that ecessity for them. Money can city at as low a rate as it ean ured anywhere, but bankers will ot adva ney without security in the shape of hing tangible, like real es- TS are one & and money. ed mone ker, loans at a iender, but he | eral in | 3 of the money | clerks is borrowed , which are often very f those who bor 2 no real reason rower once in the t get of it. light necessity for sity passed out of departments adopted y plan of paying off instead plan, which was originally some for borrowed porrowing re may have be but that n with the monthly plan sity for many clerks to | be continually borrowing, but th: have al- ways done so. r in Europe several } years ago I looked into this business and | found that borowing money is very rare emong government s. In Germany and are paid off bu they in three months | are mu better off than those ir salary as with us, twic Th e borrowers instead nders, and while they were very | » loaning out of the money, 20 provisions for Its sure re- turn “There were other bad features in most of then nm that they suggested money be Trow ead of discountenancing it, for all must confess that borrowers should | not be encouraged if it is possible to dis- courage them. One of the schemes that 1 sulted about actually had no pro- guaranteeing the return cf the por- 1 it become a law, it for an instant. It is ch lectures to borrowers, for | ey will in spite of all that can be knows its bad influence ho have had experience useless to govern the unless there is a return of the money at and that the need for f the money shall be paid in every Tris ts not possible unless there collate: given. money that is required can borrow t sald better | know by his tracks, oe out a bicycle at about the cost of the or- dinary common-grade sewing machine, which is about $19. I don't mean to say that the $i? sewing machine is as good as the machine that was sold during the days of the sewing macHine combine at $65, but to the ordinary one it fills the bill. So will the $19 bicycle.” eR KKK “A greasy nose is as sure a sign of a dis- ordered live explained a physician to a Star report ‘as anything that I know, cutside of real sickness, and by studying this as a barometer much trouble can he averted. In these days when a full outfit ‘dical granules for liver troubles can ured for 10 cents at any drug store, but little excuse for it, except in rare cases, when 10 cents worth of m cine won't do the work, and here a physi- cian is recessary. I was much amused at reading in a New York paper recertly an article written by one of these modern Leautifiers of a preparation that was said to be a sure remedy for a greasy nose. It went on to tell how much rose leaves, how much vinegar, spirits of wine and a half dozen other things should be use? in a preparation to wash the nose, and after telling ail of these it wound up with ad- vising that some liver medicine should be used in connection therewith. Now, IT car assure you that the liver medicine would effect the cure without the rose leaves ard the other stuff, and, indeed, in spite of it. I don't mean to say that one of those swollen, three times enlarged and fiery red proboscis can be reduced with a little liver medicine, but what is known as greasy nose will be removed by it.” ee HE WAS A MEAN MAN, And Consequently He Got Even With Her Just Once. One of the mildest-mannered men on earth is John Smith of Podunk, though that isn’t his name or the name of his town, and he married Sallie Jones, a red-headed school teacher, who thought she knew more in a minute than John did in thirty-sey years and five months. As the years went by John became accustomed to life. with a superior woman, and the four or five times a year he got even with her in his quiet wi appeared to reconcile him to the rest f t performance. The last occasion of an “evening-up” occurred four days ago. n | Mrs. Smith was displaying her knowledge | of war history and cognate branches. “Wars,” she was saying, “are commonly known among third parties by the names of the two nations involved, and it is a rather remarkable fact that the name of the losing nation precedes that of the con- queror. For example, we have the Franco- Prussian war, in which the French people came near being obliterated as a nation by the Prussians. Then the Chinese-Japanese war, in which the Chinese were utterly erthrown by the Japanese. So also the aeco-Turkish war, with the Turks con- ors at every point, and, lastly, we have Spanish-American war, in which, the | ‘hough not at an end, Spain has met over. clming defeat everywhere. Under the circumstances, I think it may be set down as a rule that in the vast majority of com- ations at issue the loser’s name comes nink so myself, Sarah,” ventured Mr. mith. with extreme modesty of demeanor. Indeed,” she rather sneered than other- wis ave you been reading up on the sub, 2 a wi e, Sarah,” he answered, as he hand- her a faded little newspaper. clipping h he had taken from his pocketbook. Mrs. Smith read only this much and quit: _ “Smith-Jc t the residence of the bride’s pari "2 > Like Sherlock Holmes. rom the Philadelphia Press, A most remarkabie literary coincidence is pointed out by a‘writer in Literature, who says it would be interesting to know if Dr. Conan Doyle, before creating Sher- lock Holmes, had read a certain anecdote ed by the Jesuit traveler Charlevoix, who died in 1761. The story is of a red In- dian from whose wigwam a piece of meat had been stolen, and who promptly set out in pursuit of the thief. He had not pro- ceeded far before he met with some per- sons, of whom he inquired whether they had seen a little old white man with a short gun, accompanied by a small dog with a short tall. Asked how he cou!d thus minutely describe a man whom he had never seen, the Indian answered: “The thief I know is'a little man by his having made a pile of stone to stand upon in order to reach the venison; that he is an old man I know by hts short steps, which I have traced over the leaves in the woods, and that he is a white man I know by his turning out his toes when he walks, which an Indian never does. His gun I know to be short by the-mark the muzzle made in rubbing the bark off the tree on wh it leaned; that his dog is small I and that he has a short tail I discovered by the mark it made in the dust where he was sitting at the time his master was taking down the meat.” ‘This certainly is so much like the ratloct- nation of Sherlock Holmes that it almost reads like a parody of it. Queen Victori: From the Chautauquan. Queen Victoria is the first sovereign of England who ever had anything to leave. All of her predecessors upon the throre bequeathed fine assortments of debts to their posterity, which parliament was called upon to pay, and while Victoria permitted the people to be taxed to eettle the private obligations of her unoles, George IV and William IV, she herself paid the debts of her father, the Duke of Kent, with full interest, and has several times settled the Itabilities of the Prince of Wales to the extent of several millions of dollars, ‘There is a great deal of gossip and spec- ulation in England as to the disposition the queen has made of her immense prop- erty. The bulk of it will undoubtedly go to the Prince of Wales, and it is supposed that her best estates are entailed upon her successors with the condition that they shall never be mortgaged or alienated in any way. It is also assumed that the pal- ace at Osborne and a liberal amount of bonds and leases will be left to her favor- ite daughter, the Princess Beatrice, who is also expecting to inherit~the fortune of Empress Eugenie, whose son, the {ll-fated Prince Imperial, was to have been her husband. Prin ess Louise, the wife of the | Marquis of Lor 1e, has no children, and her husband will \iherit the immense estates of the Duke o: Argyll, so that she will be well provided ! or. —-_ 0 ** eke ee nber rext the second bicy res, and after that there will be a greater cutting in price than that which followed the original combine, which * year ago,” explained a well-post- le man to a Star reporter. “The original combine provided that all of what were called high-grade wheels should sell for not less than $100. The combine lasted for three years and there were but few who violated the agreement. The result Was that $100 was the prevailing price for wheels, good, bad and indifferent. When the combine was two years old, some manu- facturers being short of money, unloaded their stock at auction. This was not a was no penalty for so doing. The auct business saved several concerns from go'ng to pieces, though it gave tha public a taste for wheels at a reduced rate. The secorld combine took in a number of concerns that had disposed of a great deal of their goods At auction “The result of it has been that there has been no auction sales since last summer and will not be until the time expires in Septemb: but after that wheels can be Deught at their real value, and the real value is considerably less than the pre- vailing prices, though the latter are only one-half what they were two years ago or leas. There will, of course, be some h’ ga priced whesis on the market. There .re today a number of $250 buggies sold, vut where there is one there are fifty $50 bug- gies sold. This will be the same in the Wegels business. Manufacturers can turn Stimied. From Puuch. Golfer—“For. Tinker—““What?” HIS IDEA OF CHILDREN “With regard to children,” said the Un- married Man, who doesn’t look quite so mean as he talks, “if I should ever acquire a family of my own I'm going to arrange the household game in a suitable sort of way, In accordance with some ideas—" “You're a jay,” put in the Married Man. “Ideas of my own. I like kids. That is, I like to look at em when they're all pret- tied up. I can’t stand for them when they're smudgy, when their fingers are in- ervsted with sugar and butter—and kids always grow affectionate with me when they're in this shape. When they're all starched and done up in the late afternoon and lock nice and kissable they give me the go-by and pay no attention to me until after they've returned from the vacant lot covered with mud. Then they appear to like me a heap. You know Tom's boy Dick, dcn’t you? Well, that boy has got me charted just right, and consequently his bulge on me is something huge. When I run uptown to see Tom and have a talk with him—you know what pals we were be- fore he got married—this boy always shows up in the room, and, by the looks of him, he always appears to have just got through playing a combination of tag, crack-the- whip, shinny, mud-chucking and a few oth- er dirt-collecting amusements of childhood. Well, this boy in gresses comes rearing and roaring into the r§om where Tom and I are talking and he knocks down everything in his way in his frantic efforts to reach me. He climbs up on my best pair of $16 wersted trousers, involuntarily wiping his shoes and hands thereon, and he claws my hair with his grimy little paws, and sticks his fingers in my eyes, and hollers at the top of his voice in my left ear, and in gen- eral he puts it on me good and hard. I have to sit and hold the whelp and gria like a chessy-cat, as if I enjoyed it, and Tom, the yap, looks as if he thinks I'm en- joying it. I don’t feel like getting on my ear and saying to the boy ‘Get down out 0’ this, you brat, and go and have somebody swab the mud off you,’ because that would make Tom sore, and we've always been prety thick. Well, sir, do you know that as soon as Tom gets up suddenly, to go up- stairs after a pipe or a cigar or some‘hing, that kid hops off my lap and sneaks to the far end of the room, and then looks at me out of the tail of his crafty eye, as much as to say, ‘No, you don’t! I'm onto yo I know that you're just aching to give me one good swat for luc But if you do that, you've got to do it while my paw’s around, that's all!’ And then, just as soo as Tom shows up again, that foxy, fiendish boy tackles me again, and pulls my hair and ears all the harder, and, say, talk about a man getting red-headed—' “You're a blooming crank,” said the Married Man. “As I was saying,” went on the Unmar- ried Man, “I like to have the kids around me about ten minutes at a stretch, when they’re all primped and prettied up, and tollet-watered, and all that. I rather like to pick ‘em up then, and look into their pretty green or blue or brown lamps, and hear ‘em say things that the women call cute. So, if ever I acquire a mob of kids of my own, I'm going to live in a flat house about twenty-two stories high, if there are any such in Washington by that time. My wife and myself are going to reside in a flat on the second floor, and the kids and the nurse are going to have a couple of rooms up on the nor’-nor’-east corner of the twenty-second floor. There'll be an electric bell in this nursery that, when it rings, will inform the nurse when I feel disposed to hold personally conduct- ed interviews with my kids. When the bell rings the nurse will proceed to tog the kids out in the freshest and prettiest Ginky things the kids’ clothes chests con- tain, and scent their hair with extract of Nlacs, and groom and police “em in gen- eral, and then bring them down to the second floor in the elevator to see me. I'l! inspect ‘em, and if they're all right and up to the limit, I'l talk baby talk with them for a while, providing I've learned bow in the meantime, and chuck ’em under chin, and gallivant around the room a lit- tle, and let them tug at my watch chain and play horse with me, and all that, until one of them lets out the first bleat. Upon the emission of the first squawk the nurse will appear and forthwith remove the whole bunch to the twenty-secon3 _fioor again. I figure that the first howl will net be due for about ten minutes after the kids begin their visit with me, will be about long enough, any see them, say, for ten "min Tcan in “the morning before going to the office, ten min- utes during the luncheon hour, and. prob- tes ably a whole fifteen minutes during the evening, after dinner. Now, I am willing to leave it to two unprejudiced minds— ain't that about the real thing?" “Are your wife's interviews with the children to be restrict to the periods curing which they are to be with you? inquired the Married Man's Wife. “Oh, no, she can see ‘em any old time, or all the time, so long as she always looks nice when I’ come in.” “My boy,” said the Married Man, “if, after you're married, and have got a fam- ily of your own, any geezer suggests any such a game as this you've just sprung, you'll up and hit htm on the nose. Come over here and let me hit you on the nose. And then the Married Man's four chil- dren were let in, and they played with the Unmarried Man. ge BUSINESS WAS BUSINESS. How a Paymaster in Our Navy Took @ Fall Out of the Bank of England. From the Philadelphia Times. ‘The late Paymaster Clark of the United States navy, of Delaware, was attached to one of the ships on the European station curing the period of the civil war. It may have been the Kearsarge, but it Is not im- portant. She was an armed vessel and had been long at sea and came in for coal, pro- vistons and to give the men a liberty day on shcre. To meet these and other ex- penses it was necessary to have some £8,000 (men are paid in the currency of the country they may be in when on foreign stations), and Paymaster Clark drew sight Grafts on the subtreasury of New York through the government agents, J. 8. Mor- gan & Co., bankers, in old Broad street, Londen. Accompanied by the vice consul he went to the Plymouth branch of the Bank of England, and presenting his Grafts, asked to have them changed for notes and gold. The bank manager, not content with exercising proper commercial scrutiny, was very rasty, and finally said: “Well, I do not know the subtreasury. I do not know the paper nor you, and I have never had business with the gentleman who 1s United States vice consul here, so I won't cash your drafts. You say J. 8S. Morgan will indurse them. You had better go up to London and let him cash them. Mr. Clark went out to the telegraph office, put himself in cemmunication with Mr. Morgan, and Mr. Morgan went to the Bank of England in London, the manager sent word to the Plymouth branch manager, and that gentleman came personally to the Royal Hotel and, with his hat in hand, begged to be of service to Paymaster Clark in any way that gentleman would suggest. The apparently placated paymas- ter, accompanied by his clerk, accompa- nied the bank officer to the bank. The drafts were duly passed over and a large bundle of Bank of England notes placed before the paymaster. “What are these?” sald Clark. ‘Those are Bank of England notes.” “Yes, I see they are notes signed by Frederick May that the bank will pay bearer, etc. Well, I do not know Mr. May, and, of course, I do not know you. This paper may be good, but I have no assur- ance of that. I'll trouble you for the gold.” The~ humiliated bank manager had to hunt it up, and Paymaster Clark. carried it down to the boat in triumpb. “I would have preferred part of the money in noteS,” he said, “but I couldn’t refuse the chance of getting even.” ———_+0+—____ Gladstone and Garibaldi. The extreme subtlety of Gladstone’s mind has been a frequent source of amusement to his foes. During Garibaldi’s visit to London it was suggested that a richly jointured widow, who was about much with him, should marry him. To the objection that he had a wife liying, the ready an- swer was: “Oh, he must get Gladstone to explain her awa; rae — ~~ ee. A coal mine in Scotland which caught fire over fifty years ago and has been burning ever since has at last burned itself out. ‘The mine is on the Daiquharran estate, Dailly. It.was set on fire by the engines whick worked the fans, and although many costly attempts have been made to extin- guish it tney have been unsuccessful. Russian pepers complain that the Siberian raitway, instead of ciVillzing the regione through which it passes, is Heeger natives the art of robbing trains, is greatly in vogue. ee za THE OLD TAR'S DAUGHTER a “I was ‘shipmates’ Yor six years with old Tom Ravenwood, one of the best known of the knotty, hard-swegring and hard-fight- ing gunner’s mates of the old navy,” said a Washington ‘man ‘who put in a long stretch as a ship's writer in the navy. “I don’t know whether Jom is still alive and in the service, but [/have a feeling that he is, for he Was a¥’ tough as a hickory log, and I can’t,imagjje him passing in his gear and getting himself sewed up in a hammock and ‘heaved over the side. He looked to me as if he would live for ever the last time I saw him. “Tom couldn't read or write, and, as my billet in the navy was a clerical one, L used to attend to his correspondence for him. His correspondence consisted entirely of letters to his daughter, who was in a convent in Mississippi. The child was about fourteen years old when I first be- came a shipmate of Tom's and began to write his letters to her, and he had not then seen her for over six years. He'd al- ways happen to be discharged on a foreign station, and he always shipped over on a cruising vessel, and so rarely made port in the United States long enough to per- mit of his visiting his little girl. Tom had Jong been through with his rip-roaring times ashore when I met him, and he de- voted more than three-fourths of his gun- ner’s mate's pay to the support and edu- cation of his little one, whose mother, a young French woman in New Orleans, had died in giving her birth. “On the foreign stations old Tom used to come aft to my office on the berth deck, after an American mail had arrived and been distributed to the men aboard, and get me to read to him the little bundle of letters that always reached him from his little girl. I found it interesting to trace the development of the child’s mind as ex- hibited in these letters. At first they were childishly bland and commonplace, but as the years went on they grew more womanly and clever and filled with the thoughtful- hess of a tender nature, and after awhile, as the girl passed into’ womanhood, they became simply beautiful specimens of the epistolary art—sweet and frank, and filled with affection for the rough old tar, and longing to see him—for she barely remem- bered him. The paymaster, who forwarded the old man’s drafts to the young woman, and myself were the only men aboard that even knew the old tlatfoot had a daughter living. ‘The old man was mighty proud of the girl's letters to him and the affection contained in them. “She cert'nly do know how to spin a plain talk, now don’t she?’ he used to ask me after I read one of these letters, ‘I never had no chanst meself, but I allus figgered on givin’ th’ little gal a chanst ’ stow her headpiece with enough o’ this here book learnin’ t’ do fur both of us when she gits growed up. An’ I'm glad she's ce cue cones an’s makin’ headway— e le gal’ ’ aes ene gal's makin’ headway, sure (if I had always written the old man's letters to his daughter just as he'd dic- tate them to me they'd have all been ex- actly alike. “My dear littie gal,’ he'd dic- tate, ‘we got into this port in’ the China seas two watches ago, with a fair wind and no steam to push us along. Your let- ters received. You are a good little girl, I know. Your old dad is going to try to see you one of these here days at the wind- up of a cruise. Good-bye for the present.’ Of course I altered this a bit and put a little more news injo the letters. “The girl was bittgrly disappointed when, three years after E began to write her father’s letters to her, he announced that he'd shipped over, as he had, for another three-year cruise, and that he wouldn't see her for three ye&rs more; and, he added, he would then for, certain, sure. We switched to thesded rranean station for that three-years%cruigg, and the time pass- ed rapidly cnougl young woman had been sent to anether educational institu- ticn, and she looked forward to the day when she could clap eyes upon her old blue-Jjacket fatHer. bout a year before the wind-up of the cruise the old man ask- ed her to send Him # photograph of her- Self, but she begived off, saying she wanted, aren she met him, to’see if he would know her. ““Mayhap,’ said thé!old man to me, ‘th’ little one’s growed u: bit plain like and dcn’t went to send te pictur of a plain gal to her old dad—as-!f that 'ud make any difference to me.= | ~° “Well, our ship pulléd up at the Brook- lyn navy yard just tw6 days before the old man’s time was out, ifs daughter was to meet him across the way in New York. There was a big crowd of the relatives of the officers and men aboard at the yard dock when we pulled alongside. When the plank was thrown out they flocked aboard. Ola Tom Ravenwood and I stood at the break of the fo’c'sle, watching the people ccming aboard, neither of us expecting anybody. A tall and very lovely young wo- man of about twenty stepped ligitly up the gangway. She was such a thoroughbred in appearance, and so singularly beautiful be- sides, that the officer of the deck bowed and scraped to her, thinking she was come aboard to see one of the officers aft. The young woman looked around in a bewilder- ed sort of way, and then her eyes caught sight of old Tom, with his sleeves rolled up, showing the tattooed crucifixion on one knotted forearm and a Japanese dragon on the other. The girl had had a tintype, taken years ago, of her father. Well, it vas surely enough.an affecting thing to see the light that leap€d into the eyes of that superb young woman, and to see her glide like a flash up forward—to the surprise of the officer of the deck—into the Jump-mus- cled arms of old 'Poyfi Ravenwood, gunner’s mate. The scene bfoke all hands up, I can tell you that. The fellows standing around all coughed foolishly and in a choked sort of way and looked off in the other direc- tion. As for the old man, after he had held his daughter in his arms for a minute or so —looking as embarassed, and yet happy, as a man could look—said he to me, knuc«ling at his clear old eyes and trying to pry him- self loose: ‘Look a-here, mate, jest you kecp an eye on this bit o' cargo for me fur half a minit, will ye, ontil I lay below an’ see about them am’nition hists?’ “But the ‘ammunition hoists' were too thin a subterfuge. The old man didn’t want to make a show of himself. ——+ The Saber-Toothed Cat. Frem the Popular Science Monthly. ‘The ‘most remarkable of all the extinct felire animals are those known to natural- ists as the saber-toothed cats or tigers, a gro’ —p comprising the greater part of all the fossil forms. They date.back to the earli- est imes of which we know anything about tle family in North America and reach dov n to the time of man himself. A large anc powerful species described from the Iné.in territory by Cope lived contem- pore eously with the hairy mammoth, as evidenced by the commingling of their skeletons. There can be little or no ques- tion but that the hairy mammoth was con- temporaneous with man in North America as well as in Europe. Their geological range is from the close of the Eocene to the latter part of the Pleistocene. The chief peculiarities of the animal are the extraordinarily elongated canine teeth. The tail is of umisualslength and the legs are short. The aaimal measured ebout sev- en feet in length:aside from the tail. The lower jaws haves downward projection in front, due to a fiangelike widening of the jawbones, which doubtless served as a pro- tection to the féeth, "preventing their in- jury or loss. In‘some of the larger forms from South America. this flange was not present, while t! ine teeth were even is the case with this more elcngated in species, attatni: a ‘length of over six inches and protrading far below the jaws when closed. ee MONEY IN BAYONETS “I wish I could pick up the bayonets that bave been thrown away around Santiago,” said a blacksmith in one of Washington's down town shops yesterday. “What earthly good would they do you’ asked a bystander. “I could make a small fortune out of them,” roplied the blocksmith, “just as I did once before with the bayonets that were picked up at Antietam and Harper's Ferry. “How's that?” “Well, I don't know as it Cid me any good—leastways it doesn’t now that I have lost it all. Perhaps that is the reason that I thirk I would like to try it again. I was a young man when the war was over and was living up at a little out-of-the-way place in the mountains of Maryland. I had learned my trade of my father, who fell at Gettysburg, and the world was before me. I settled down to shoeing farm horses and mules, repairing reapers and mowers, and doing odd jobs of all kinds. Prices were better then than they are now, and the country had some cash in it. 1 did well and laid by a little capital. “One day an old fellow living ’way up on the mourtain came into my shop with a bayonet in his hand. On the other arm was le besket of nice while eggs. ‘Cap,’ he said, as he laid the bayonet on the anvil, ‘my unyin patch is all gormed up with weeds and filth, an’ ef yo’ could cn’y jest make me a leetle narrer hoe outen this baynet fer this yere mess o’ eggs, I reckon I'd hev a right good chance of unyins,’ “I took the bayonet and hit it a tap against the anvil and it rang like a bell. There was the best of steel in it and I Knew I could make a first-class hoe out of it. I had seen any number of bayonets, army muskets and swords kicking around in thet country, but I had never thought of using them for anything before. I stuck the bayonet into the fire and in a few minutes I made a very pretty little onion hoe for the old man. I cut off about two- thirds of the steel, then bent the rest around nearly squar? with the ferrule and flattened it out into a nice sharp blade an inch wide. The ferrule I left untouched so that the hoe handle could be put into it. There hap- pened to be an old handle standing in the corner of the shop, and I put it in for the old man. It hung just right and made the prettiest garden weapon you ever saw. The old fellow was delighted. A few days later he came in again and told me how the hoe worked. He said it was so light; so thin and so sharp and strong that it was play to hoe onions, something that I had always heard before this was the hardest kind of work.” “What he said set me to thinking. If a bayonet made such a good onion hoe why was there not a field for making them on a large scale? The bayonets were to be had in quantity and there were people enough raising onions. In a few days a neighbor of the old man came into the shop with a bayonet and said he wanted a hoe made out of it. Several others followed his example in the next month or so and bay- onet hees came to be known and generally used in that region. I put up a notice in several post offices around there that I would pay five cents apiece for bayonets. hey came in by hundreds. In spare time I made them up into hoes, which I finished off as nicely as I knew how. Then I put a little advertisement in the county paper and finally another in an agricultural paper, and the orders began to pour in on me. I charged thirty-five cents apiece for the hoes, and as it did not take over five minutes to make one, when I was making them in quantity, I estimated that there was at least twenty-five cents profit on each hoe. I had no discount to make to the trade. I sold every hoe myself and got all the profit myself. The trade in- creased until bayonets began to get scarce and I had to offer seven, eight and finally ten cents for bayonets and they were slow to come in at that figure. But for a year or two I sold the hoes by hundreds and I got very well fixed financially. In my ad- vertisement of course I alluded to the bibli- cal notion of beating swords into plow- shares and shears into pruning hooks. This was very fetching with all sorts of good people, and a good many, I suppose, bought my hoes not only because they were a first-class article, but as relics of the war. Some of those bayonets had no doubt pierced some poor fellow’s vitals, and let his life blood out upon the greensward on the battlefields of the south. It is good to think that the use I put them to was more peaceful and useful to mankind. a TOILERS OF THE AIR. Work on a Suspension Bridge is Done. From Godey’s Magazine. The workmen on the cables follow close- ly after the builders of the iron roadway. These men are engaged in more perilous employment, if anything, than the former. They climb nimbly up to the very sum- mit of the huge towers, and then without flinching proceed to descend the inclined cables. It makes the spectators below tremble for them, so dangerous is the Ge- scent, but the workmen have no fear, else they would be unfitted for the duty re- quired of them. After sliding down the cable a dozen feet they stop end turn around and face the towers. The men working the derrick slowly swing out to them the end of a cable about three inches in diameter, Another man carries out to them by means of a small hand pully and rope a red-hot band of steel, which the cable workers seize with their pincers and clasp around the large cabio on which they are resting. Then while the steel is still hot and malleable the small cable, with its end secured in a thick bolt of steel, is brought into posi- tion and the end welded into the red-hot steel band encircHng the main cabie. Tho workmen pound and forge away, hammer- ing, twisting and bending the metal, be- fore it cools off. The welding must be don rapidly, and the workmen have no time to stop and think of the dangerous position in which they are placed. Probably the only support they have comes from their legs, which they wind tightly around the cable, as they swing their arms and upper part of the body with violent exertion. When this cable is forged into its place, the workmen take a few moments of rest, and then slide down to the next joint, where the same operation is repeated. Cable after cable is attached in this way, until there is a@ regular tangle of steel work and dang- ling cables, looking for all the world like a spider's web. But there is order in this colossal spider-web, such as never existed in the home of the insect that weaves the webs in our homes and woods. Gradually one part of the bridge after another is fin- ished, and when the “false work” of scaf- folds is removed the structure stands out in all the beauty of its finished state. The bridge builders must not only be skilled in their work, but they must have the hardihood and daring of the sailor, for most of their work is performed at an al- titude higher than the topmast of anyggail- ing vessel. They labor in all kinas of weather—when ‘the sun is pouring down its torrid rays in midsummer, or when the mercury registers zero in winter. To them their dizzy height is no more than the fifteen or twenty feet are to the ordinary carpenter or house painter. They seldom use ladders. They would be con- Stantly in the way. If they want to reach a higher framework they climb nimbly up the steel works or jump lightly across from one truss to another. A jump of three feet from girder to girder is a commonplace occurrence to them. os : ——_+-o-+____ Som: From Tit-Bits, Widowers are more inclined to merry than bachelors. Widows are more inclined to marry than spinsters. Both facts are elcquent in favor ofthe comparative ad- vantages of matrimony. For one bachelor How the Matrimonial Facts. that marries between the ages of fifty and fifty-five, seven widowers remarry between eigen PHILANDER Wasted Energy. De whippoorwill when de day Had sot hisse’f cer sing, When Mistuh Crow, he hove in sight, Wit ‘is steady sailin’ wing. An’ he gin ter caw an’ he raise his voice. Says de whippoorwill, “I ain’ got no choice But ter stop my tryin’ ter chahm de crowd "Longside of a bird dat kin sing so loud.”” was bright An’ Mistuh Crow, when de moon riz high, Was ‘bout foh ter sing again, When he hyuhd, a-floatin’ toward de sky, A note dat was shrill an’ plain; An’ he says, says he, “Whut's de good o° me A-holierin’ hyuh, by de hickory tree, Wif a voice so loud dat it’s like ter drown De sweetness I finds a-driftin’ 'roun’? So one he sang while de daylight shone, An’ one he sang by night. An’ each left de yuthuh one quite alone, An’ was distantly perlite. An’ folks dat hyuhd ‘em would mos’! “Whut make dem fool birds holler way But de whippoorwill envy de crow his =! An’ de crow, he envy de whippoorwil!. at An Injastice. “I had a mighty interesting time in Cuba,” said the man whose head was divided from the back of his neck by a thick fringe of hair. fat ere you with the army?” inquired a commercial traveler, who had tilted his chair against a tree just outside the hotel. “Of course,” replied the first speaker, spreading his feet apart and swaying back- ward and forward. “That's what made it exciting.” “I didn’t see you mentioned in any of the reports,” remarked the person who is al- making an effort to humble some- 's pride. “Oh, I've been mentioned in a lot of them,” was the genial reply. “People who know anything about such matters admit that some of the best work of the cam- paign was done by me. One of the best things I did was io take two Spanish otfi- cers and seven privates.” “All by yourself?’ “Certainly. I didn’t have a bit of assist- ance. The next day I went out and took a lot of cavalrymen.” “How many?” inquired the skeptic, whose face showed traces of mingled surprise and suspicion. “Oh, I didn’t stop to count ’em.” “Didn't you get wounded?” asked the man who was leaning against the tree. “Once or twice I got a little scratch— such as a man is always Mable to when he is knocking around in that way. The next thing I did after I got through with the | cavalrymen was to take a lot of commis- sary wagons belonging to the Spanish, and I followed that up by taking a castle on the Morning of the next day and a fort in the afternoon.” “Mister,” said the disagreeable man slo’ ly and with indignation, “here in Washing- ton we see some of the finest specimens of almost anything you can call to mind; but I wish to state, and I may remark inc dentally that I come from Texas and ful realize the responsibility I assume, that you are the biggest Mar who ever walked om Pennsylvania avenue. The good-natured raconteur looked very angry for a moment, but the expression of his face gradually mellowed into one of gentle reproach. He merely answered: “I ain't anything of the kind. 'ma pho- tographer.”” * * Trying to Oblige. Mr. Meekton had been reading a rather long piece of poetry and had fallen asleep with one finger in the air—th2 finger which he was invariably accustomed to use in reading pociry, to mark the accents and avold any confusion in metrical interpre- tation. “I'd be willing to wager anything,” ex- claimed his wife, “that this page of hints on hous>hold economy was written by a man.” He wakened at the sound of her voice, but evident did not comprehend her re- mark. “He is some man,” she went on, “who dcesn’t dare speak out fearlessly and tell his wife he wants her to be a slave. He'd rather sit down at a desk and write it down and trust to her seeing it im print some time.” “Why, Henrietta, did any such thing. “No; but you would if you had thought of it. The sole ambition of some men seems to be to convince their wives that they never need any new dresses. How would you like it,” she went on, “if an effort were made to convince you that the great test of a good husband was his willingness to wear old clothes? It’s time the tables were turned!” she ejaculated fiercely. Mr. Meekton drummed nervously on the edge of the table, but said nothing. “You can take your turn at it for awhile,” she r2sumed, crumpling the paper and throwing it aside. He smoothed his hair where the back of the chair had rumpled it while he slept and rejoined with gentle dubiousness: “Can It” | “Women are not the only people who have old clothes to be used again. Up in the old clothes press in the attic ar2 some ciothes of yours that you had when we were first married. They're just as good as some that we women are expected to fix over and wear. Now, if you are so anxious to economize, you can put them on and go make that call we planned for tonight.” He made no protest, but left the room. She picked up the paper again, and, ing a lead pencil, began ”” he protested; “I never she saw the figure of » man; a strange man; a man dressed in long toothpick-tocd shoes, tight trousers, a light Prince Albert coat, with flaring skirts and a little flat hat = sat close ageinst the crown of his “Go away!” she crisd, “or I shall send for that if there was anything on this earth mor? exasperating than a man she'd like to know what it is. ~ ~* Perilous Heights. ‘The boy who lives across the way—a jolly ltde eif— Procured a pair of poles one Gay, just to amuse himself. He thought he wasn't tail fixed them nice and neat With handles to take hold blocks to fit his feet. And now he's ten feet high at least. proudly nods his head And stalks arcund the sidewalk with a Most uncertain tread. thinks he is majestic, scarcely out of kilts, It’s fun to look at Johnny when he's walk- ing on his stilts. enough. He of and with He He though he’s His father was an spoken man, But since he got an office, he has somehow charged his plan. Most everybody likes him, spite of this de- sire of his To make us think that he’s much bigger than he reaily is. He seems a bit uneasy when he’s towering amiable and simple- around He steps as if he wasn’t wholly sure about his ground. He tries to be impressivi and he wilts. He makes us think of Johnny when he's walking on his stilts. * , but he wobbles * * ying a Kind Word. “I mus’ say,” remarked Farmer Corn- tossel, “that in my opinion they're givin’ it | to this here Aguinaldo herder’n he de- serves I don’t approve o” that ther gold whistle ner that gold breast-plate,” answered his wife, emphatically “Give "im time. He's jes’ beginnin’ learn our ways. He might o° done w« than a gold whistle. That’s a heap better'n @ cornet or a concertina. An’ as fur the gold breast-plate, he ain't had no facilities fur gittin’ posted on thestyles of fancy vests that a civilized man uses when he that his thorax ought to be é He's only got started learnin’ our wa “He don’t have the dignity that ought to go with his pretensions. “Don’t crowd "im, to eels He's got a sense of his importance, but he doesn’t exactly know how to express it. Mebbe he'll turn up in | a few years with the same advanced idees of statesmanship that we have. He'll prob- ably be standin’ fur hours before a camera, 60's to get his picture into a paper with his name spelled wrong under it. I ain't no doubt but he'll catch on an’ get to makin’ four-hour speeches and thinkin’ people en- joys it simply because it’s him. I surprised ef he would even get t ould make himself comfortable in a quiet corner somewhere, with the sergeant- at-arms rushin’ all over the town tryin’ to | tell him that the welfare of the civi! | world, not to mention his party, needs j vote. “Don't hurry ‘im. He’s only gittin’ s as a p'litical leader. Give ‘im the b the doubt an’ take it fur granted ¢ gold whistle an’ where he breast-plate is only a passin’ fancy which he'll outgrew. have faith in ‘im and believe that right along with the rest of ‘em purty s: wearin’ silk hats an’ thinkin’ he knows more about runnin’ a republic than George Washington.” ae ee Pets of a Learned Man. From the Youth's Companion. Sir Henry Rewlinson, the great authgrity on Persian inscriptions, wrote his “Memoir” in a summer house overhanging the Tigris, where the outside heat of 120 degrees was reduced to 90 degrees by the action of a water wheel which poured a contfhuous stream of water over the roof. For recreation while writing his book, Rawlinson indulged in petting wild animals. | He had a tame leopard named Fahad which he brought to England and presented to the | zoological gardens at Clifton, near Bristol. Whenever Rawlinson was in England he would visit Fahad. As soon as the beast heard his cry, “Fahad! Fahad!” it would tise from the floor of its cage, approach the bars, and then, rolling on the floor, extend its herd to be scratched. Once the keeper, who did not know Sir Henry on seeing him patting the leopard, exclai ued: “Tale your hand out of the cage! The anima s very savage and will bite you! “Do you think so?” said Sir Henry. “I don’t think he'll bite me. Will you, Fahad?” And the beast answered by a purr, and would hardly let the hand be withdrawn. He aiso had at Bagdad a pet lion, which had been found when a kitten on the bank of the Tigris—its mother having been shot— d brought to Sir Henry. He alone fed it, and the lion when grown wou!d follow him about Mike a dog. One hot day the lion moped and rejected its food. It paced about the master’s room, and he, being very busy, called two servants to take the lion away. The Mon would not go with them, but drew nearer its master, and at last sat down under his chair with its head between his knees. “Oh,” said he, “if he won't go let him bide. The servants went out, and Sir Henry wrote on. The lion sank from a sitting position into that of a “lon couchant.” All was quiet for several hours save the scratching of a pen. When his work was over the master put down his hand to pat the pet. The lion was dead. o Berlin Libraries. ‘The royal library in Berlin contains over 1,000,000 volumes,-the university brary 158,000, that of the roya! statistical bureau 186,000, The war academy collection con- sists of 88,000 volumes, that of the general staff of 69,700 and that of the royal chan- cery 72,600 volumes. pe (Copyright, 1898, Life Publishing Company.) / “) have broke; we Panel a get puen rep ee be discharged. - not be ag old as 6 waist you Go It to Ht ¢