Evening Star Newspaper, September 17, 1898, Page 14

is a looking glass made?” was the by a writer for The arer of mirrors ‘n nufacturer, “most rade is prepared factory, and we mere- silver it in our works. All eut in the same way, first ater, then on an emer. put through several back the polish. nts have been made in in the past sixteen rly it took two or thi » work was begun on a mirror Nowadays we this line of business king r sale glass perfectly finished before night. We make rom the smallest hand glass ef a mirror 10x20 feet or even have a capacity of turning f mir- tead. The old 5 per cent of rare v ss reflected 60 or son it vent. The mer- y liable to rub ; the rrors, those engaged t deal of nd windows. in largely taking the able to w now upon us,” ex- known physician to a Star people to be on le, for in the can be care. Decayirg the source of but there are other lation as well le arial tr be avoided. Principal the cool nights which fo!- alts In congestion This res illiary in ‘mittent involved in y bet- Peo- suple of weeks at ‘0 out there properly ar- ed to cat nore laden with malaria 1 porches There isa s of th. ria than the sta- s much 1 the med hill generally fol- es to get rid n is that Washing- 1 in five cases om to the mat- will authoriz ing was r of ca have does not a them every names on it. ing in from soldiers who have ¢ heir homes asking the priv- eze of purchasing the tents used by them. So far no action has been taken on any of them, but @s soon as condemnation has individua! ations are ning and make | the modern mir- | been made they will be informed, and they will have the first right. Most of the tent- ing is in good enough order to put out into another war, but it is not likely that it would ever be used again, for it is cheaper | to issue new than prepare and repair a let of old stuff.” ———.__ THINGS SEEM DIFFERENT NOW. flis Views Have Changed Since He Came Back From Cuba. “Before I went away with the regiment,” said a Mt. Pleasant boy, who is now fatten- ing up again, “I was beginning to entertain an exceedingly small opinion of this town in particular, and of this whole stretch of country in general. Washington was rapid- ly becoming too contracted a sphere for me. I was falling into the habit of lying awake at night and thinking of chucking up my job and getting out of here. I wanted to roam. I wanted to go out west, first of all. My idea was to take a hack at Chi- cago first, then get on out to Denver; then on to San Francisco. After a few months of pipe-dream life in ’Frisco and down in southern California, I figured on running over to the Hawaiian Islands. I even had my mind sort o’ set on shaking Japan up a bit. I didn’t particularly know how I was going to uo all this, but the idea of doing it all haunted me. This thing of living at home in Washington palled on me. It struck me as being altogether too common- place and prosaic.” The young man paused to sample the con- | tents of seven more plates full of appetiz- | ing-looking stuff that his mother and sis- ters placed before him, and continued: “But I guess, upon the whole, looking at the matter from all sides and from every point of view, that Washington will be good enough for me for the next 112 years. | Taat’s what the trenches of Santiago have done for me. I don’t want to roam. I’ve completely cut out the roaming idea. There's nothing in it. I want to be com- monplace. I want to be prosaic. I want to be, and am going to be, what the funny ducks call a thome guy.’ I'm going to hang on to my job here. I don’t think I'm so many as I did before I went down below there with the boys. I had a chance to see how dead easy it would have been for the world to continue going around had I been just wiped clean from the map some old | morning there in Cuba. I don’t hanker for | any more excitement. I just want to have the weather get cold and rainy and dismal, so that I can emphasize the delight I take in clinging to my own fireside—snuggling up to the latrobe that I didn't much figure on ever seeing again a very few weeks ago. Washington is a comfortable old town, and you hear me. Every night since I've been back, after taking a nice cold ducking in a really-and-truly and sure-enough porce- lain bath tub, and getting on a well-aired nightshirt preparatory to going to bed, and hearing my mother and sisters and the governor talking downstairs, and hearing | the darkey boys singing up and down the street, and the cars clanging by once in a le—well, say, I’ve just gone to the win- low of my room, and looked out at the ars, and thanked the good God that it has all been arranged this way, and that I've got a home. “That's what the Santiago trenches did for me, and it’s about enough.” ——— A WOMAN'S CHARITY. And After All She Found She Had Made a Mistake. The Mt. Pleasant man dropped off the yellow car and hurried along down a west de street home as if he thought it was the best place on earth. And it was to him, for he has a wife who is one of the best and kindest women the Lord ever directed linto the pleasant paths of that suburb. | When he had reached the house and had | stretched himself in a comfortable place to n | have a bit of otium cum dignitate ere the | dirner hour, his wife came out to see if he | were all right and to chat with him a mo- | ment on the affairs of the day. | “Anything happened to stir up the coun- | try out this way since I left?” he inquired | good naturedly. othing I recall now,” she replied “Yes,"" she added, “ a soldier call- d for something “How jed this morning and as! tile mone ‘A soldier?” repeated the husband. do you know he was a soldier?” | “He had on a brown linen coat, like the soldiers wear.” “That is hardly a safe sign, my dear.” But he to'd me he was one,” she in- sisted, and there was a tone of pain in her vol s if she felt hurt that her husband could think so harshly of one of the na- jion’s suffering defenders, nee did he tell you, dear?” he asked y kind! _ "He told me he was with Dewey at San- tiago,” she said almost triumphantly. “How was that?” asked the man. “Why, ‘an on, “he told me he was y at Santiago, and he told me battle was won and how he was a cavalryman and his horse threw him and ted him, but he still fought on and the flag floated at last over a defeated enemy. I don’t think I ever heard a more thrilling tale, and I gave him all he could eat, the poor, ave fellow, and a half dollar be It ail I had or I would have him a dollar.” “Did he tell you all he smiled ten ly Something there was in his manner that made her suspicious, and for a moment he jooked at him fixedly and thinking hard, ‘Georg @ exclaimed at last, clutch- ing at his sleeve, “it wasn’t Dewey at San- tiago, was it? that, dearie?”” ———— A LONG FALL. ever Would Have Believed It if He Had Not Seen It. The man with a bunch of twine for whiskers was shaking his chin at the com- pany of listeners, one of whom had short- |ly before read from a newspaper a story | of @ man falling down a well and sustain- | ing no very serious injury. Which reminds me, gents,” he said, “That what I am about to relate to you is 1a fact, a clam cold fact, that I wouldn't think of telling you if it was anything else. It happened out in one of the deep mines of ¢ orado, where there was a straight | shaft 850 feet de p. Some said it was S75, | but, gents, I'm a truthful man, and I know jit was twenty-five feet one inch short of N | that, for 1 measured it myself. Well, to | make a long story short, one day there | Was a man out to see the mine from New York to buy it. He had a pot of money, i like he carried it around nd t le der his vest, for he was as big through as a base drum and built on them propor ki u tio I gucss he weighed 300 pounds ough it might have been only 208. Any- w, he was standing around the mouth of naft one morning, and by some chance r he toppled over and down he went. king right at him when he top- I nev Want to see anothet look like his did then, gents, leed I doa’'t. Not much. Well, to make 1 long story short, we looked at each other for a minute as he went down the hole, and then we broke for the cage, which was yet, and two of us started after him, expecting to find him a ed mass ‘at the bottom. But we nd as we began to near the bot- { we heard him yelling like a cyote ta | hold up or we'd mash the life out of him. * | Phat scared us worse than the other, and ted to go back, but we couldn't At, So we went slow and got down to all right. Well, to make a long story . by gum, do you know that we found that he had gone down that hole so fast | and he filled it up so full that he had com- | pressed the air in it to such an extent that | by the time ot pretty near to the bot- jtem he wasn moving faster than he fweuld have moved through that much water, and he had really stopped ten or fifteen feet from the bottom and couldn't set either way, which was what scared him so as we come down on him in the ge. Very peculiar occurrence, gents, and I hadn't seen it with my own eyes ould have believed it in the worl —_>—_—_—. Cut Down His Turn. From the St. Louls Glcbe-Democrat. “Is your minister going to take a ; this summer “No; but he has cut bis turn down to ten minutes.” EVENED UP THE SCORE Four young business men were comparing notes in a down-town lunch room the other noon hour. “Has Dufferstone told you the last story about his kid?” asked one of the others. Dufferstone Bad 4. them all the Jast story about his “kid.” Oh, yes—seven timcs. So they fixed up the plot to break Duffer- stone of the habit of telling them the last stories about his kid. It was a mean and ornery quartet, but Dufferstone has been avoided a good deal of late on account of his crop of stories about his first young one, and perhaps he needed a lesson. When No. 1 met Dufferstone the next morning on the way to office, he said: “Hey, there, Dufferstone, y’ougnt to have been up to my house last night. Durned if there wasn’t a burglar in our room. It was about 2 o’clock this morning, and nelther my wife nor myself suspected that anything was wrong. We were botn sound asleep, and little Jim—you know that bit cf a two- year-old of mine—was the first to wake us up. He’s just learning to talk, you know, and blamed if he didn’t let out a whoop when he heard the burglar tooling around the room, and yell ‘Panyud!’ (Spaniard, you know). Of course it wok: us both up, and I called out to the fellow, who was rummag- ing in the bureau drawers, and he chased himself down the front stairs ond was out the front door like a bullet out of a gun. Now, what do you think of a two-year-old kid acting as a watchman, hey, Duffer- stone? Great, wasn’t it?” Dufferstone looked a good deal bored dur- ing the recital. That is a trait of men who make the greatest nuisances of themselves in relating the brilliancies of their own young ones. No. 2 of the mean and ornery quartet hap- pened into Dufferstone's place cf business during ths morning. “How are you, Duff?” said No. 2. ‘Say, I just dropped in to tell you a corking yarn about that little three-year-old nephew of mine—my sister's little boy, y'know. Great- est boy that ever was on the map, and don’t you forget it. He’s a wonder, and no mistake. Well, sir, Duff, my sister had Reggy—that's his name, y'know, Reggy- my sister had Reggy out walking on the White Lot yesterday afternoon. They were strolling around the big fountain at the rear of the Executive Mansion, when a stout man, wearing a frock coat and a top hat, came toward them. Of course, my sister recognized the President at once. The President approached, raised his hat to my sister, and addressed little Reggy. “ “Why, how d'ye do, little boy?’ said the President to Reggy. “Reggy grabbed his mother’s hind tight- ly, and, said he, looking up square into the President's face: “ ‘Oo go "way, oo ol’ Kinley Mack!’ “On the level, he did, Duff! Now, what do you think of that? Wasn't that out o° sight for a three-year-old? Just sald, he did, ‘Oo go ‘way, oo ol’ Kinley Mack.’ By jing, I think that’s immense, don’t you, Duff?" No. 2 told it all over a couple more times, poking Dufferstone in the ribs at proper intervals as he went along. “Why, I didn’t know you had a small nephew,” sald Dufferstone, dismally. “Dickens you didn’t,” was the reply. “Well, is that so? Why, m'boy, he’s a wonder. Let me tell you—" And he pinned Dufferstone against the wall of his office and told him stories cf his imaginary nephew for fully half an hour. No. 2 had scarcely left Dufferstone’s office before No. 8 dropped in. No. 3 was laugh- ing all over. Well, Duff, old man,” said he, slapping him on the back, “how're you making out, anyhow? What am I laughing about? Well, I was just thinking as I came in about a funny crack that little three-year-old niece of mine—my brother’s kid, y’know—got oif at the dinner table last night. Never told you about my little nlece? Why, that’s queer. I thought everybody in Washington Knew I had the swellest and brightest little niece that ever came down the pike. Ha, ha, ha! She certainly does say some of the funriest things sometimes. Well, last nigh we were all talking at the dinner table about the Philippines. Little Freda was sit- ting on her little high-chair, not saying a word, you know, but she was ju more than taking in the talk, for all that. Of course we don’t suppose she understood what we were talking about, but it's mighty peculiar, for all that. My Lrother, in the course of his talk, said “What kind o’ jays does Spain think we are, to hand ‘em back those islands after fighting for "em? Do you people think it would be the right thing for us to vacate the Philippines and let the Spanish robbers take possession of ’em again, after the job of work George Dewey accomplished in getting a foothold down there?’ “Well, sir, Duff, you may not believe it, but durned if little Freda didn’t drop her knife and fork on her plate with a clatter and exclaim: ‘Not by a dood deal.” “Say, what d’ye think o’ that? You see, she'd heard her father and me make use of the remark, and she slipped it in, not knowing that it was go’ to fit, but just on general principles. D'je ever hear of anything so pat? ‘Not by a dood deal!’ she said, just Hke that. Phenomenal, hey, Duff Dufferstone was nervously drumming on his desk with a paper weight by this tizae, and he looked at his watch several times. But those moves were just meat and drink for No. 3, who had so often suffered at Dufferstone’s hands in the same way. So he remained and recalled a couple more lit- tle reminiscences of little Freda. No. 4 of the mean, ornery riet didn’t run across Dufferstone untli iate in the afternoon. Dufferstone was running tor an avenue car to go home, when No. 4 hailed him from across the street. Duffer- stone, thinking that No. 4 wanted to talk some kind of business with him, zave up his chase after the car and waited for No. 4 to come up. “How're you, Dufferston3?” inquired No. 4. “How's that boy of yours, anyhow? ay, the reason I called you was that I know you're Interested in these little stories of childhood, and I wanted to tell you one that a friend o' mine was telling me this morning !own at—" Suspicion, dark and deep, crept into Duf- ferstone’s eyes. But he felt his own guilt. He took out his watch and started to run for the next car that cam along just then. “Ain't got time just now,’ Dufferstone called back to No, 4. All of this happened on Saturday last and Dufferstone has permitted six whole days to go by without telling a single story of his wonderful young oni =e HORSERADISH TIME. Uses of This Pungent Root Perhaps You Don’t Know About. From the New York Herald. Of the itinerant merchants whose raucous cries are just now particularly penetrating none is more insistent than the purveyor of hors2radish, a vender almost peculiar to the east side and upper sections of New York. He comes a trifle early this year, perhaps, but he says on being questioned as to this previousness that the hors3rad- ish erop is very much ahead of its time. Properly,” said one the venders to me, the season does not begin until oyster time; but since the crop insisted on coming to perfection some weeks in advance and horseradish is mighty good as a relish for all sorts of cold meats, why, I reckon no one objects to that fact, leastways not the restaurant keep2rs. “Good cooks always buy plenty of horse- radish of us hawkers, for you have no idea how many are the fine dishes which may be made with the root. Lots of people make A very toothsome sauce by covering one peund of sliced horseradish root with spir- its of wine and keeping the mixture tightly corked. Then this 1s added drop by drop to the white sauces us2d for meats or fish. When mixed with a little fresh mustard and red pepper the horseradish and spirits of wine make a great sauce for broiled beef or deviled chicken. “Horseradish vinegar {s another concoc- tion much used in New York, and the way to make it is to soak a cupful of freshly grated root together with an ounce of minced onions, a piece of garlic and a pi of red peppar in a quart of cider vinegar. After this has been kept corked up for a week it Is strained through a cloth and bottle for use. It is a pleasant addition to a number of salads. “Many of the restaurants uptown where the cooks ar= foreigners grow a very fine salad from horseradish. They take the crowns which are left after the roots are dug up and bury them upright in moist beds which they keep specially for the pur- pose in the dark warm callers under the restaurants.” Noted by an Observer. From Puck. Z Seth Haskins—“Thet’s suthin’ like thet game of shinny we used ter play. ain't it?” Lem Pusley—“Them sticks are like it, but the clothes ain’t, by gum!” BROTHER'S LOVE REWARDED ‘wy A visitor to the genera} hospital at Fort Myer, the grpat ward converted from the ald Flding schéol, will be attracted by a seéne at a cot in the long rows extending the full length of the ldrge ei ee BUR of a young soldier watching at the cot of a fevér patient, patiently fanning the fev- ered brow of the ¢ick ‘man and in every way devoting to the patient a mother's care. The sick man is Private Charles G. Brown of Company G, 8d Missouri, and his devoted nurse is his younger brother, Pri- vate Elmer N. Brown of the same company and regiment. The brothers livéd in’ Bear’s Creek, a small settlement in Missouri, and caught the war fever early. They enlisted in the 8d Missouri at the same time. They were enxious to see service at the front, but like many other brave young soldiers were doomed to disappointment in this respect. Their regiment was ordered to Camp Alger, ey will soon be mustered out of the serv- ice. At the camp the brothers were “‘bunkies,” and were often referred to by the officers and men as Damon and Pythias Brown. They were prompt in their attention to duty, as honest as the day is long and won the respect of all their fellows as country lads turned soldier. Camp life did not @gree with the elder, Charles, and when he was feeling ill his brother gladly volunteered to serve for him. Finally th2 symptoms of typhoid fe- ver developed so strongly in the elder brother that it was necessary to send him to the general hospital, and for the first time in their lives the two boys wer2 sep- arated for any great length of time. After his brother had been away at the hospital for several days, Elmer applied to his com- Pany commander for a pass that he might visit him in th2 hospital. He was granted a two-days’ leave, and made his way to Fort Myer. On arriving at ths hospital he was sent to Maj. Davis, the commanding officer, and the bright face and honest simplicity of the country lad attracted the kind officer, and he personally conducted him to the badside of his brother. Elmer wanted to grend the entire time of his leave at the bedside of his brother, but Maj. Davis had a cot fixed up for him, and only during the few hours he slept was he absent from what he constdersd his pcst of duty. His entire devotion to his brother, and the careful attention he gave the patient, attracted the attention of all the hospital attendants. When the boy's lave was about to expire, Maj. Davis noticed the grief of the young soldier at the prospective parting, and telegraphed to his company commander asking that he be granted twenty days’ leave of absence, that he might nurse his brother. The answer came back that his leave was extended two days, but that a further extension would have to come through fhe War Department. Elmer was informed of th> decision, and thanked Maj. Davis for the brief extension he had been able to obtain for him. On the second day after the answer had come back, and just as Elmer was pre- paring to take leave of his brother, Major Davis appeared in the great ward, escort- ing a tall, thin gentleman, with a gray musta:he and imperial. The visitor seem- ed to take great interest in the sick. Major Davis was talking to him as he approached the cot where Elmer was watching over his sick brother, and presently the stran- ger left Major Davis and approached the © ‘Let me see your pass,” he said to El- mer. Wondering what it could mean, the young soldier produced the document from the pocket of his blousé and handed it to the stranger, who scanned tt closely. He took a pencil from his pocket, and placing the paper upon the window sill wrote across its face: ‘‘i_xtended for thirty days. R. A. Alger, Secretary of War,” and handed it back to the young soldier. When Major Davis returned on his regu- Jar rounds some time later, he was ap- proached by the Young Missourian, who handed him the document, with the in- uiry: 5 ei ODO you suppose this iwill keep me out of all trouble if I staySrer@ ‘with my brother?” “Tam inclined to thing {t will,” responded the kind-hearted majof with a smile. He then explained to thé) soldier the great honor that had’ been aoe him, adding: “T would not mind aving a document signed by the same pervon: AT THE SIGX OFTHE HAM. He Was Lying and Was Willing to Admit It. The stranger on a train in Illinois fell into conversation with a well-dressed young man, who seemed to be able to furnish the information he sought. “Do you know Chicago?” he inquired, with a little trepidation, as one will in mak- ing a start. “Quite well,” responded the young man easily. “What kind of a place is it?” “Finest on earth.” “Pretty lively, isn’t it?” “The racket keeps up thirty-six hours a day.” “Is it larger than St. Loui “Twenty times, and the back wards yet to hear from. “How does it compare with New York.” “Zt doesn't. New York can’t hold a candle to it. “Good business there?’’ “By jumps, there's more mi sold out of Chicago in a week than would feed the world a month, and dry goods enough to put clothing on the backs of every man, woman and child in the we isphere, and chairs enough to furn for the standing armies of the entire , and so on down the line in every branch of trade.” “How is it morally?” It furnishes Amer with the bulk of her Sunday school teachers.”” “Have they plenty of money there?” “They’ve got it to burn, You've heard of the great Chicago fire? Weil, that was what was burning.” “Do you live in Chicago?” “No; my home ts in St. Louis. raised there.”” “Say, young fellow,” interrupted a man in the next seat, who had been listening, “what are you giving the gentleman? The young man took the intruder to one side. “You keep your hands off,” he said, earn- estly; “I'm entered in the Champion Liar Contest and I'm practicing. You under- stand?” Born and —-— Chinese Railway Brom the Independent. The Chinese railways which have occa- sioned so much discussion, and which are still mostly on paper, may be divided into four systems—the Manchurian, East China, Central China and South China. The Man- churian system includes those planned to cernect the Trans-Siherian road with Port Arthur and Peking, via Kirin and Mukden. ‘The Peking connection is to be via New- chwang, Shan-haj-kwan and Tientsin. The section from Reldng to Tientsin and to Shan-hai-kwan is ompjeted, and it 1s the extension to Newchwang, contracted for by an English bank, hut which Russia desires to control, that hag raised the latest dis- turbance. The Eayt China system is under the initiative of Yang Wing, 50 well known in this countr 1d proposes to connect Peking with Ching}iang near the mouth of the Yangtse, with;extensions to Shanghai and connecting withthe German Kiao- chau in the provinge af Shantung. This is as yet purely on paper, and the concession is by no means agreed upon. The Central China system as yet igcludes only the fa- mous Peking-Haniau,er Liu-Han line, ex- tending in a southwesterly direction from Peking through the province of Honan to Hankau, on the Yangtse. The importance of this railroad arisex2from the fact that it will open up ghe @reat valley of the Yangtse, and alsg that it will run very close to the coal and. iron mines of Shansi and Honan, recently secured to an Anglo- Italian company. The concession for the road is given to a Belgian syndicate repre- senting France and Russia, and thus, if Russia's claims are allowed, is definitely in Russian power. A-short portion only is complete, the greater part not even yet having been surveyed. The South China system includes roads. connecting Bhamo in British Burma and Hanol in French Tongkin with Yunnan. and cities on the Si-kiang or West river. These are not yet planned, but are being considered. — oe A Lenox Farmer. (Copyright, 1898, Lite Publishing’ Company.) THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1898-24 PAGES. SAKI AND ITS TERRORS “Among other joys that we acquire in taking over Hawali,” said the naval officer with the very , Mazatlan-made ci- “ae saa Baki is not in- ous to Hawall. It got there from apan. But it is there to stay. It is now an Hawalian institution, is saki. It is ab- sorbed and assimilated by the whole Ka- naka population, in quantities to suit. Ap- parently it does the Kanaka no harm, but the first experience that a Caucasian, @ member of the Indo-Iranic tribe, a white man, has with saki— “Regard me carefully. I have toyed with mest of the gloom-dispelling liquids of this, my own native land. I have been thrown by few, if any, of them. In moments of evil persuasion I have enveloped my quota, and more, of that mesquite grass com- pound that burns black holes when poured out on western deserts. It is manufac- tured in the morning; all that is not pur- veyed during the hours of business is dumped at night. I have had my sad mo- ments with sagebrush whisky. Pulque, the julce of the cactus, has at times sub- merged me without making me utterly de- praved. That other liquid villainy of the west coast of America, mescal, may have made me a sadder and a wiser man, but it never permanently damaged me. You can tell me naught of vodka. I have had my pannikins, one, two, three, a hundred, of vodka; it never got me totally under. The Chianti of the wine-dark Mediterra- nean, the heavy, heady Oporto of Portugal, with its dark-brown sediment at the bot- tom of the glass; the pellucid, undiluted gin of the Netherlands; the raisin brandy of the bland and simple Greek—all of these, and others, I have encountered, without ever losing knowledge of the whereabouts of the north star; but saki—. “It was a man named Doyle, a court in- terpreter in Honolulu, who made me ac- quainted with saki. While he was and is a man of unimpeachable character and a citizen of standing, I hereby consign him to an inglorious !mmortality for the wrong he did me. Interpreter Doyle of the Ha- waiian courts introduced me to saki. Only one thing saved him when it was ail over. He did not do it in Honolulu proper. He did it in Waikiki, a beach pleasure resort on the outskirts of Honolulu. Had Doyle right in the middle of the town of Hono- lulu—at one of the clubs, say—introduced me to saki—— “We wero strolling around Waikiki one Sunday afternoon. Said Doyle ““Now, with regard to saki—’ “It was bait, pure and simple, this allu- sion of Doyle’s to saki. He probably felt that my intelligence was of so low an or- der that I would manifest a desire to test saki and the virtues thereof. I did mani- fest such a desire. “A word about saki. It is the fermented juice of rice. It is a brownish white in color. It is very deceptive. It goes down luke the most innocuous kind of Rhine wine, which it resembles in taste. But you aré not supposed to gulp it down as you gulp down Rhine wine; otherwise—but laymen do not know this; only Japanese and Ka- nakas and court interpreters and things— “ “Delightful, cooling drink,’ said Doyle. ‘I really do not know how I should make out without saki. At luncheon, every day, I take a quart of it. Gently stimulating, you know, and no after effect whatevor— pesitively none, you know, really. Honest.’ “We took seats at a table under a royal palm, and the Kanaka boy brought a quart bottle of saki. I bemoan tha: hour. “Perfectly harmless,’ Doyls was saying. ‘Least harmless of all liquids of that sort, saki, I should say. Honest.’ “I drank a tall, thin glassful. It was re- freshing, truly—just a bit iart, snappy and comforting. Doyle’s stomach, unfortunate- ly, was disarranged, he said, and sv, no, thanks, he thought he’d not— “I took a couple more glasses. A glow— a mellow, rosy glow--the turquo S2a at my feet—the rainbow arching above the Nuuanu gorge—that was ali. “Just another word about saki. When you go out, you go out all of a sudden— like a flash—poof! and you are gone. There is no gradual, foreseen apyroa “My friznd Doyle, the inte , ing malignantly, sat, with his legs crossed, at a table that was 600 yards removed from me. I remember that maligrant smile vi well. That was the last { remem “Doyle was sitting beside my bed w came to, nineteen hours later, the morning. Gentlemen, I declina to dwell upon that head. Th sad >pochs ia cur lives are not for common scrutiny. Enovgh, that I had never before experienced any thing like it, nor have I ever since. Doyle was quite solicitous. I was in a hot2] room in Waikiki. Likewise, I was absent with- out leave from my ship. But that was nothing. The head!—the head! After I had thrown everything throwable within reach of the bed at Doyle, he began. had whimpered, and, in pitiable lamented my sad lfe. Doyle had oni that, apparently. Then I became suddenly cheerful, and sang ‘Starboard Watch, My Boy,’ and that sort. Doyle said it was beautiful, Then I had become patriotic and heroic. A speech—Doyl2 said I made a Speech to the royal palms, ‘When the sells of our country shall whiten the seas,’ etc., ete. Doyle said he hadn’t thought it was in me, honest hadn't. ‘Then I had fallen into dismalness, and bemoaned the sad state of the Kanaka race. Then I had of- fered to fight Doyle with one hand tied be- hind my back—and then, the hotel. How I loved Doyle! “And yet, wonderful saki! Doyle keld me down by main str2ngth and corapelled me to take one swallow of it in ved. In iess than three minutes—It is a hair of the dog that bit you, with a vengeance,’ said Doyle, ‘but you may trust me to know 8: —I was better than normal. The hzad disap- peared like a flash. In ten minutes I was up and about. It was miraculous. I felt magnificent. In acquiring Hawaii, gentle- men— “After that,” said one of the naval offi- cer’s Hsteners, “you played according to Doyl2, and took a quart of saki every day for your luncheon The naval officer shuddered perceptibly and ignored the question. eA IMPROMPTU GUNS. Hundred Made From Handy Trees Did Good Work. From the New Orleans Times-Democrat. A confederate veteran who fought at Fort Blakely read the other day of the dummy guns used by the Spaniards around Santiago de Cuba to humbug the American troops. “Ah,” said he, “that reminds me of old times. It also reminds me that wooden guns have been known to serve better pur- poses than making believe. “Wooden guns did deadly work before Fort Blakely. The Yankees fixed them up, and they shot just as well as if they had been manufactured of iron. The opposing lines were 500 yards apart. The confeder- ates were behind the walls of the fort, and the i.derals were strongly intrenched. “Gen. Canby, the Yankee commande, was without artillery. What did he do but manufacture one hundred mortars from black gum trees. Black gum trees grew everywhere in the vicinity. He bored them out, put fron bands around them and fired S-inch shells furnished by Farragut’s fleet. The lines were so close that light charges sufficed, and the extemporaneous weapons cid all that was asked of them.” ——+e+. Called Himself Squaw Man. From the Denver Times. At a recent reception at which the fash- ion and beauty of Denver were assembled one of the ladies found herself seated next to Gen. Sumner. He had been presented to her earlier in the evening, but she had not quite caught his nam2—certainly not his title. Beamingly, she asked: “May I ask what is your occupaticn? Don’t think me rude, for I have made a study of determining such matters without asking questions, but I must confess that you puzzle me. I am at a complete loss to place you.” “Madam,” replied the commander of the department of the Colorado, with his most serious countenance, “I am a squaw man.’”” “A—a what?’ she managed to gasp. squaw man, madam.” ‘I am afraid I don’t quite understand yet,” sald the fair interlocutor after a few minutes’ cogitation, In which she took in the general's whole tout-ensemble and de- cided that there must be another mi to the term besides that to which she been accustomed. “Why, that is easy enough to explain. In ermy parlanc? a squaw man is an officer who, when the rest of the officers aré at the front fighting and winning glory, is left at home to guard the women. Madam, I am such an officer. “Oh, that’s different,” she ejaculated. And then the whirl of the throng carried them apart. One BY PHILANDER » JOHNSON? A Deserter. In Boscobel—a thriving town, Where marts are rather less than farms— We have some warriors of renown, Who quite refuse to doff their arms. Thcugh peace has long since been aseured, These patriots will not hear the knell Of martial things. We can’t be cured Of fighting, up at Boscobel. The squire comes forward with his map, And says that any one might know That sending this or t’other chap ich a place spoiled so and so. And Dec says any other plan Would never have turned out so well. And then we bave it, man to man. They make things warm at Boscobel. And so for city haunts I hie, Where naught is heard except the sound Of carts and cable cars that ply All patiently their usual round; Where turmoil will at evening cease. For human judgmert cannot tell With any certainty when peace Will come again to Boscobel. x * * A Protest Against the Trite. Mr. Blykins was in a skeptical frame of mind. He had been sitting glum and silent for some time. His wife essayed conversation once or twice, but her efforts met with no encouragement. She realized that his own thoughts were of more import- ance to him than any which might be suggested by an outside consciousness, and relapsed into silence. She had some cu- riosity, but she knew from experience that the easiest way to have it satisfied was to wait until his overcharged intellect be- gan a spontaneous disclosure. This soon occurred. “They make me weary!” he exclaimed, as he closed with a beng the book over whose reading he had fallen into irate rev- erie, “Who do, dear?” she inquired disinter- estedly. “People. Foiks who write things. These essayists and poets and philosophers who start out to make you think that if you will only buy thelr books and read ‘em life will be a path of roses with all the thorns neatly shaved off e stems.” “The book you were just reading was written by a very wise man,” she ven- tured to suggest. “That's what you say,” hb answered. “That's the way they fool the public and get their publications sold on all news stands, This man has a piece about the value of time. Among other things he says, ‘Take care of the precious minutes. They never will return.’ ” “That's perfectly true, wife. “How do you know?” he inquired. “Because it has been said so often be- fcre.”” “That explains the whole process. Say something short ard say it often enough and people will take it for granted. How dces h2 know the precious minutes never will return? It’s like that old nonsense to the effect that the mili will never grind with the water that is past.” commented his “That's perfectly true, too,” she an- swered with conviction. “No, it ain't. What becomes of the water after the mill is through grinding with it?) The clouds take it up and pour it down in rain somewhere. It flows through springs and creeks and rivers and into the ocean, and the clouds take it up and drop it again. It’s constantly going the rounds. It may take a long time, but if it’s a good, durable mill it'll keep up the same old grind with the same old water. That’s the way nature works. She uses old material over and over again, sometimes in one shape and sometimes in another. But it’s there. How do we know that these are new precious minutes? How do we know that they ain't the same old minutes being worked off on us again like the water that runs the mill?They don’t care, so long as they can make it all sound nice and get their books sold. But when you come to put what they say to the real test, you're like a man out on a sea ot thought, with a punctured life preserver.” * x * The First Person Singular. It’s only a line written straight up and down, But it wories the country and startles the town, The small letter “I” causes prospects once fair To tumble chaotic, the mischief knows where. When harmony gently assumes to com- mand, “Ego” bluntly steps forward to manage the band. Peace blossoms serenely. ‘Tis but for a day. The first person singular scares it away. In art, war and statecraft the question we see Ever pushed to the front is, “What's in it for me?”’— And time which is needed for building true fame Is spent hunting big type to blazon a name. And that’s why the pessimist mournfully sings About the eternal misfitness of things. With ashes of glory earth’s history is thick, And the first person singular’s what did the trick. * * * The Practical Side. “I've been wonderin’ a good while what Ta better do with that youngest boy of ours,” said Mr. Corntossel. “And at last I've thought it all out.” “You always were a. great thinker, Josiar,” commented Mrs. Corntossel, ad- miringly. “I'm goin’ to prepare him with a proper foundation and then send ’im to a naval ‘cademy. But I ain’t goin’ to let him go till he gits the right kind of a basis. He's got to go clean through a business college first.” “But he won't learn nothin’ about shoot- in’ nor steerin’ nor sayin’ ‘yo, heave ho, Jolly tars,’ at the proper time in a business college.” “No. That'll all come later. to start him with a good reliable knowl- edge of bookkeepin’. Mebbe they teach it into the ‘cademy an’ mebbe they don't. Ap’ ef they do mebbe they don’t teach it good.” “I don’t see—” “Course you don’t, That's ‘cause you're short-sighted. You think all there ig to it is sinkin’ ships an’ hollerin’ ‘Hooray, com- rades, the day is ours.’ But the real prac- tical side of it is yet to come. I believe in disinterested patriotism. But ef there's to be a cash consideration, there's - use of trying to let on you don’t notice it. An’ I ain't goin’ to turn Lycurgus Corntossel loose in the naval profession without his bein’ -a first-class accountant, so's he kin er as he goes along and keep tab on the prize money. < * bsp An Episode Jained, There was no mistaking the nationalities of the two distinguished foreigners who had entered the restaurant. The conversa- tion soon showed that the man with the big beard parted in the middle had a name which sounded like a sneeze with “ski” at the end of it. He was unmistakably Rus- sian. H's companion, who had some difi- But I want culty tn pronouncing hfs name, ly gentleman, who ordered sausages and potato salad. “So!” exclaimed the latter; is not the only the papers. “Of course not. Only with Nicholas it's different. He means business, The other gave a short, sharp laugh. “Business! Asking all the nations of the earth to come forward and make a scrap pile of their arms and battle ships. You call that business?” “That's what it “Did he think for a minute that they'd do it?” inquired the German. “No.” “How many months ago is it that your emperor was out himself trying to get Lail- itary equipments?” “I don't krow for sure. isn’t many “And now all of a sudden he c! mind and wants universal peace “I don’t know whether he wents it or not,” answered the Rusetan, “but he knows that whether he wants it or not be tsn’t going to get it. That peace proclamation of his wus one of the best pieces of busi- ness strategy ever attempted. The cz. is a young man. But he’s a wonder. He Goesn’t have to buy a ticket on the board was a port- Frankfurter “our emperor one who gets his name in But I guess it anges b of trade in order to get experience and find out how things are done. I suppose that by this time he has secured all the cannon and smokeless powder and battle ships he wants and is willing to let the market go its own way “But he doesn’t want arms and ships. He wants universal peace.” “He only said he wanted it. Czars have thelr troubles the same as everybody else. They are constantly being obliged to face the idea that half the people they meet are trying to get two dollars out of them for one dollar's real value. Let us imagine What occurred. Nicholas went to a big cannon factory to make some purch. As soon as he came in sight the manage the place raid, ‘Aha! Here comes the He can't get along without shooting ma- terial, and all he has to do when he wants the money is to increase the taxes. This is where we get a profit that'll help make up for the hard times.’ And after hearing the exorbitant price-quotations the caar d s a word. He turns back to his palace, circu! peace proposal and then waits £ of cannons to drop. I tell you, it’s one of the cleverest be ammunition market ever expericnced. — > Capt. Capron’s Gallant Feat. pm the San Francisco Examiner. Army officers and National Guardsmen have not forgotten a notable incident on the Presidio grounds in the early part of 1893, when the courage and superb horse- manship of Capron saved the lives of @ woman and her two children. It was on a morniug when the Ist Troop of California Cavalry, then under the command of Cap- tain Blumenberg, was at drill on the large parade ground. Sergeant Capron was in- terested in the drill of the troopers, and sat on his horse on the main road watch- ing the evolutions. A light carriage, drawn by two spirited horses, entered the Lom- bard gate and proceeded in the direction of the post buildings. In the vehicic were an elderly woman and two little ¢! The carriage passed Capron, and when about 100 yards west of his position something my friend, r movements thé scared the horses, and they bolted along the drive at a terrific pace, turning into a side road and racing furiously on a broken half grade. Capron kicked the spurs into his horse in instant and dashed around the slope to intercept the team. When he reached the road again the team was approaching on a mad gallop. The officer saw no tin could be lost if the lives of the woman and chil- dren were to be saved. At the risk of } own life he trotted into the center of road and waited for the colli ne on with the team. The two carriage horses continued their wild run, and in a few moment crashed against the troop horse of Capron, He dropped his own reins, and, leaning over his horse’s head, caught both run- aways by the bridl The three horses reared and fought. Capron was lifted out of the saddie, but he held the bridie reins and compelied the infuriated animals to stop. The carriage was badly damaged, but the occupants escaped without d scratch, ———-e+— Weeds as Food. From Meehan’s Monthly. What is even regarded as a vile weed can, with a Ittle stretch of imagination, be turned into an ornamental plant or de- licious vegetable. This 1 iaily the case with the common burdock, Lappa ma- jor. School boys all know it from gathering the burrs and ccmpressing them together by the curved points of the floral involuer>. This 1s all they know about it. It is difli- cult to see anything more to be de iin espe the burdock leaf than in the leaf of the rhubarb. It appears that it is larg used in China for food. But it is stated that if the stalks be cut down before the flowers expand and then be bolled th rele ished equally with asparagus. aves when young are boiled and eaten as v nach. In Japan it is in universal t Thousands of acres are devoted to it ture. But in this case the root is th ject. It requires deep soil to get the roots to the best advantage. “A Chicken Patti.” (Copyright, 1898, Life Publishing Company.)