Evening Star Newspaper, October 1, 1898, Page 14

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1898-24 PAGES. “y wm lable to spoil. Turning the » down now and then would not | Jars up | remed difficulty except temporarily. | But, a . [have no such trouble now. it may appear, I was twenty irs finding how to do it. It is not neces- ‘ary to boil fruit into mush to get it to absorb the juice or syrup so that it will cep well. All that is necessary is to boil ufficiently that every portion of it is J. Then fill the jars, the solid fruit being packed in, and the interstices filled with the juicy syrup. The jars are always to be thoroughly filled. Now, should this Jar be stood up there would be a separation of juice and fruit in a couple of weeks. tion: ar reporter, | The secret is in putting away the jars, and <qas when I was firs yiuced to the | laying them on their sides. They keep braids ee eserves to be | Caually well. or/even better (than if stood musa en: a plant tt : ted | OM ends. In this way there will be no sep- better kn country. I was s ¢} aration, no floating of the fruit in the the p: f the most unique | syrup. By remembering this it will not be rican homes, Mr. Hunnewe! Wel- | necessary to boil the fruit out of shape to ty-five or more years ago. With | make it absorb and retain the juice.” engineer in charge ¢ unds and servatories. A messenger had gone to fin h of Washington We were of rare an beau- tiful plants to decorate the President's con- x eK OK “The interest of parents in their soldier sons is exhibited in various ways,” said a clerk in the adjutant general's office to a Star reporter, “and while some of these d| €xhibitions are grand and beautiful, some of the owner that we might cbtain permission | 4Te otherwise, and I am sorry to say that a the rare gems of nature col-| the otherwise kind are painfully frequent. lected there. My anxiety for a closer in-|A recent case will explain what-I am get- Satsang pensive tate abe ting at. young soldier applied to the fine contrasting green of the majestic | War Department for a discharge. He. like 1 @ Mr. Hunnewell and my trav-| thousands of others, had y much. ft a delightft ver to has mind my rver Dia s fiaburgh and the h was ri known. However, the general opinion ii that both are naturally produced in Abys- ia ded there ut and moisture. = comes to great perfection { most abounds in that part © large plantations of it, an t exclusive of anything el: piting that prov d, therefore were it not for thi: ps a foot o: of ag ike a turn butter, i nourishing and ea- ylant will er; Iness' as the north eds no boom.” in es a soi a rule this kind 4 arecord, and wh is mal record can sk a quarter to k and who ha ngs on a qual en lous himself t much work rk tup. T ext n has co: » to work. Th in that work The clerks wh work are ay work > be nec rut for twenty years t up a ja ft is too n 3 It was grow- ervatory adjoining the ght for their en- of the Nile, na dead level, fe to get off easi- ent the sowing of be s the stalk of the ensete ap- You r part till it | vouch for the an its or- be improved if he half an hour during and puts in fellow who 1s ex- and he thinks the extra-time een no service, except camp service, and tiring of this, 11 | there being no immediate prospect of serv- ice in the field, he applied for a discharge. The fond parent, in this particular case a Widowed mother, hearing of the ns ap- plication for a disc came to this city and objected to the discharge, giving a half dozen good r ns for her objection, wh » boiled down, meant that the son | Was a neve Il and that about the only job her boy ever held was his job in the rmy, since May k When told that the Department was not particularly anx- to Keep soidiers in the s ho only ed in it as a means of liv where get their food a Was a strong chance Would be granted, she berg: the son be kept in the service z enough to get a hospital record, and that, while b not sick now, and had not been, she had every reason ‘to suppose he be, for lots of stronger m™. had stccumbed to cam: the course of events her son would the same fate if his ox Unued, though she did not exp that he would be seriously affe ted, as he ; bad never made effort enough in his life even to get a serious filnes “Discharge him now,” said the mother, ‘when he has not been in the hospital an hour and there- n | fore has no hospital record, and it will be of | almost out of the question for him ever to get a pension!” At this the official she ad- | dressed closed the interview by saying that the son would be undoubtedly dis- charged, and that the government was not engaged in making hospital records for the accommodation of worthless soldiers or speculative parents.” *e ke & & is | “It is wonderful what the force of habit will do for people,” explained a market- master to a Star reporter, “and I nov r d full of the body <; | heard of a more marked illustration of it hard ané best of all} than transpires here every market day. One of the stands in this market is owned nsete for | and personally conducted by an old lady, ve the «| whose name and nationality I do not con- sider it necessary to divulge, though I facts in the ca She has aged the seme stand for many years ay st thirty years to-my ow rtune favored saciions in the market her2 omer in some real estate ses which she has made ing the past twenty years, so that she | ow a rich woman. Sh= j it out, however, an coming to the marke her in her © depended upon what ng so long in the market bu: which has mary fasc for some, ‘sh? cannot give it » kept a market t of that which d, but for the past six or seven years tired f conducting. a truck garden, thing else, and | being entirely dependent on the labor of a oie ich more in the | others to raise-the produce, and buys ail Was the eine ob ihal cise Talk of Dr. Jekyl and exaggeration to it in many and even it in other respects. he old lady I refer to rides to the mar- ket In her own carriage, and while her ecachman not wear livery, he seems rovided for than many who Arriving at market at day dawn, she around among t ntry people and duce. While she lives in the country herself, she does not ralse any- thing in the way of markét stuff, though she has a rather exclusive garden for her own use, but she would not sell anything from it on any account. Nine-tenths of her customers—she has supplied about the people for many years—think she the stuff, she has in such large quan- Sand sells them. ‘The market over, ler aan brings her horse from the liver and madam is driven out to her home. The lady of the household in the country is entirely different from the aged no r- market w« who haggles and hangs on .| the matter of a penny in the receipts from ee In her country residence she wonderfully changed person. Her home elaborately and expensively furnished. Her servants quarters are much better than some of her neighbors’ residences. She gladly entertains her circle of ac- tances, limited, I admit, when ‘they her guests, and she gives Ny to rv church and the various demands that 7 made upon her on account of her co same. The turnout which s her to market on three mornings of eflesh ar pings is better than that used by any Her coachman hi othing to with the stand) He simply comes to look after the horses, owned and used by 1d. an old ket bus: who is so wedded to the mar- s that she cannot give it up.” ees Saw Himself. From the New York Tribune. Albert Chevaller, the king of coster song 11 | Singers, was once asked what was the most @ patience | Unpleasant experience of his stage life as that. My | “Well.” he said, “I will tell you. It hap- cs .. | pened tn a very handsome hall in the Mid- to wet the pre- | tands. The whole of the back and the sides look well, as well a covered with immense plate glass mir- ¥ tch cooked it | rors. I knew nothing about it until | walk- aa rigt ed on the stage, and then for the first me F: : in my life | saw myself as others, as my ae not please | audiences, see me. The effect was weird in oked we NO (Copyright, 1898, Lfe Publishing Company would go to the bottom of the jar uit rise to the top. One res sides the Ss, would b mn the t f the jar wo 1d not | tering m: 1 | the ivi extreme. Jt unnerved me. Ty terrifying. Instead of concentrating y attention upon my work I found myself atchirg, studying Chevalier! Never again. | No, thank you. T avoid halls that are glit- es of plate glass mirrors.” It was posi- DOUBT, ) “This dog, madam, would be cheap at one hundred.” would take him, but I am afraid my husband might object.~ “Madam, you can get another husband much easfer than a dog like that.” MRS. JOBSON’S ECONOMY There was a furtive expression in Mrs. Jobson’s eye the other evening after din- ner, She sat, oscillating .in the rocking chair opposite Mr. Jobson, occasionally re- garding him out of the tail of her eye. She was waitirg for him to finish his first af- ter-dinner pipe and to cast aside the even- ing paper. Between stealthy glances at her spouse, Mrs. Jcbson conned figures on her fingers refiectively. When Mr. Jobson knocked ¢ hes out of his pipe, permit- ted the paper to slip from his grasp, and began to look straight ahead and twiddle his thumbs, Mrs. Jobson was ready. “I was just thinking, John,” said she, in an easy, cheerful tone, “how lucky it is that I shall positively not need a single new thing this fell. Not a single thing. And you'll have a charce to fix yourself up so nicely — “Been hearing that same old gag for a good many years now, Mrs. Jobson,” grunted Mr. Jobson. But you shall this year,” went on Mrs. Jobson.” “Why, it is perfectly astonishing how nice und good the things I had ‘tast fall and winter still are. I had them cut today, and I just made up my mind that it Would be fcolish for me te go and buy new things when I am already se well provided. All my last year’s things need is a little fixing over. Now, that nice black satin skirt I got last fail"— Mr. Jobson reached into his waisteoat pocket and brought o8t a pencil and note book. Mrs. Jobson ignored the action. “I'm going to have one of those nice new Cuban flounces put on that skirt, and two rows of those pretty Dewey ruffles at the top. Now, isn’t that a splendid idea? Let me see. It'll e four yards of satin for the flounce— “At how much a yard?" inquired Mr. Jobson, with pencil poised. “Dollar and a half a yard," replied Mrs. Jobson: “and three bolts of ribbon for the ruMes— “At how much per bolt?” “Dollar a bolt; and it'll be just the pret- tiest skirt you ever saw. I'll be able to wear it with anything. And that brown tailor-made svit—you remember that, don’t you? Well, 1 bad that made plain, because they were wearing them plain last year, but this year the tailor-made suits are to be braided, and I can “At a total layout of — son. pausing for reply. “Well. th F toe braid is all figured and elabi and it costs a little more for that reason, but I can get just as nice braid as anybody would want for 75 cents a yard, and it'll only take six yards to braid the whole suit. It would be nice, too, if I cou'a have the Jacket relined with silk. The silk only costs a dollar a yard, and it would y take three yards. And I cou’d cer- tainly economize by wearing a chamois Vest with the jacket—it would only cost #3—and they aro so warm, too! Instead of havirg the skirt relined with silk—it’s so expensive, that!—l'm going to have a dust ruffle put en it, and it'll only cost $1.25 a yard, and cnly take three yards for the refie—" “Just hold on a minute,” said Mr. Jobson, and for a minute he made figures and ad- ded them up. “Go ahead.” “Well, then, you remember that old cerise silk waist? I was just thinking this after- ‘noon that I eouid have that covered with black net. Of course, it takes handsome net to go over carise, but I can gei it easily for $2.50 a yard, and it'li only take two yard: Then, with a yard of chiffon—only $1.—1'll_have an awfully pretty evening walst to wear with my black satin skirt.” Mr. Jobson did a bit more figuring. “Then, I was thinking that that black net skirt I've got will go awfully nicely over white for a waist. I was thinking of making it over white sateen, but, you know, sateen’s so tawdry, and I can get such lovely white satin for 31.25 a yard, and it only takes three yards. A little jet would be pretty with that—for evening, you Know, to wear to card parties, and so on— and it'll only take four yards at $1 a yard. Then—” “Wait'll I get that dow “All right—go ahead. ‘And that tan you remember? Of course, it’s a little soiled now, and I'll have to have {t cleaned, and the lining is rubbed, said Mr. Job- but I th , with a long 4 . I can have it retined ew plaid silk—it's 2 a yard, and perfect! vet rosettes—thr aplece—and thr oY cents &: little tan e Um-m, i autiful!—and with vel- of them at 75 cents moked pearl buttons, at TH just have the prettiest at on this block, see if I don't.” aid Mr. Jobson. “Anything “Oh, just a few little things made over, hike those I have mentioned. Of course, !f I could, I would love to have, for real swell wear, one of those new golf capes—but, then, ‘new thing: they're only $25 and, after having all the old things over I thought, perhaps, you’d-—” Where are you going to have the truck madi 2" asked Mr. Jobson. “Well know that Ifttle Miss Sniff- kins—what a perfectly lovely seamstress and duick worker she is? I can get her for $2.a day—” How many da: “Why, I could easily have everything fin- ished inside of two weeks. “Now,” said Jobson, “if you will be kind enough to give your undivided attention to that cheap piece of literature you are read- ing for five minutes, I'll see how this thing comes out. Mr. Jobson worked his pencil industrious- ly for a bit more than five minutes. Then he looked up at Mrs. Jobson. “Mrs. Jobson,” sa'd he, “you know that bum, ollve-green winter overcoat that I've been disgracing myself by wearing in this community for the past five years?” “Um,” replied Mrs. Jobson, not cheerfully. “I merely pause to Inquire If you'll permit me to insert in this list an item of 30 cents for gutta percha buttons to adorn tha: gar- ment » that I can get another winter out of it that’s old > THE MOUNTAIN SCHOOLMASTER. it Was Mucb Easier for Him to Learn Than to Teach. Riding down the right bank of the Cum- berland river one afternoon of a bright No- vember day, I noticed a log school house about a hundred yards from th road. It appeared to be “re time, for a lot of children were playing around the open, and on a fence at one side of the building sat what I fancied was the schoolmaster. Having had a brief experience teaching the young idea how to shoot, I thought It would be rather pleasant to talk for a pass- ing moment with this teacher, and so I turned my horse in his direction and rode up to him. I saw, as I approached, that while he was of the very mountains, he was of the better class, and when I greeted him he met me pleasantly and asked me to alight. However, I sat on my horse, as he Sat on the fence, and chatted with him on the outlook of education and the public school 2m in the mountains, and his verdancy, candor and uneducated simplicity were delightfully refreshing. I presume you have not had expertence elsewhere as a teach2r, have you?” ¥ in- quired, with an idea of getting some per- Soral data. “Oh, no,” he replied. “Phis is my start, and I ain't been long at this.” “Do you like it? Much depends, you know, on a teacher’s ultimat> success, whether he works for love or money ‘The money is necdeessary, I reckon, but I'd most as soon teach school as eat.” “Which would you rather teach, boys or girls?” “Boys for some things, and girls for others.” Which do you find easier to teach?” His face became a study, which, when a pretty mcuntain girl of sixteen came out of the School house and asked him a ques- tion in arithmetic, became a study in blush color. “Not girls, mister,” he said, slipping down off of the fence and drawing so near to mp» that he rested his hand on my horse's withers, and there was 4 strange intensity in his tone; “I've been tryin’ ever since that one looked into my face the first day and told me her name was Lizzi> Ray to teach her that she ought to think as much of me as I do of her, but I ain't been able to git her past her a b c’s, and I reckon I ain’t a ever going to. It was easy enough for me to learn, and why can't sh2 do it?” The question was too hard for me, and as I looked into the tense and strained face of the young schoolmaster, I thought if he ccwd only learn how not to learn some things so easily how much more easily he would pass his days until the evening of life brought its quiet to him. —— It is possible to go round the world and touch on British territory all the way— namely, from England to Halifax, N. 8., across ‘Canada to Vancouver, across the Pacific to Hong Kong, thence to Singapore, Penang, Mauritius, Cape Town, St. Helena and England; or from Penang to Ceylon, Bombay, Aden, Perim, Malta, Gibraltar and Rome. site ee AS HE SHOULD HAVE DONE 2 Mr. Craftyboy’s:thousehold effects were to be removéd from? Capitol Hill to Z street northwest 03% Thufsday morning last. On Wednesday night Graftyboy, feeling pretty good right after dinner, and observing that Mrs. CraftyWoy 1ébked a trifle pale and tired, after Ker e¥brtions in lookihg for a house, said: 2; ' “My dear, 4'll have to go to the office for halfa day, inyhow, tomorrow, but I'll be back here bP nod to help you with the moving. Th mej of course, "Il do the heavy work, but Liknow what a big lot of packing and‘stowing of small stuff there'll be, and I doff't waht you to wear yourself out doing it. "You gan just sort o’ start it going, and #11 be pn hand to do the bulk of it at noorg” os Craftyboy- didn’t. feel quite so good- natured and Cheerful on the moving que: tion when he got up on moving morning. “If there’s any one thing that 1 admire in this married game, it ain't moving,” said he to himsel? as~ he got his clothes on. “And what's a whole lot more, U don’t go in for any part of this ‘present’ moving pro- gram, not any, not it I know myself. I'm sorry I made that woozy, compromising speech last night about being on hand up here at ncon to stow away a lot of old vases in execelstor, and fruit dishes, and statuettes, and truck. I certainly am sorry, for, on sober second thought, I'm just about due not te be on hand, compromising speech or not. I'll just fix it somehow.” Craftyboy went right down to his office, got hold of a telegraph blank, and wrote the following dispatch to his’ wife: “Got to go to Baltimore on business im- mediately. Go ahead and move. I'll turn up at new house at § tonight.”” Then Craftyboy proceedec. to Kill time for the remainder of the day in his office, for there was nething doing especially in the way of business. : “Great scheme, that,” he mused two or three times in the course cf the day. “She will get through ail right, of course. The men’ll do most of the work, and by the time I turn up at the new vickieup tonight everything ought to be knocked into some kind of shape out there, and I'll sit a fair show to get a meal of victuals without having to stand on a two-legged tabouret to eat it.” Craftyboy found it a pretty hard job to kick around town watchin billiard games and base ball scores unti) 7:30, when he got or a car to ride out t his new home. He was pretty hungry wien got out there, and the cheery lights in the windows gave him a sensatign of jleesureable an- ticipation. Both yestibul2 doors. -were closed, and so he rang the bell. A nice- looking but very busy woman with a towel over her head, came to the door. Why,” said Craftyboy, ‘Is this—” “Oh, you are Mr. Craftyboy, then,” said the nice-looking woman with a towel about her head. “Your wife was here only a lit- tle while ago, and she left this note for yeu. Here it is,” and she hand2d Crafty- boy a note in his wife's well-known un- punctuated chirography “Dear Ed.,” the note raa. “I got your te‘egram soon after you reached your of- fice, and I'm so sorry you had to go away, but it’s just as well, after all, for you had no sooner laft this morning than I had a note from the lady who occupies the house we are going to move into, saying she could not possibly get her things out today, and that therefore we'd have to defer our moy- ing in until tomorrow, and so it's just as well, you see, and I’ve such a frightful headache, anyhow, and’I've been unable to do a single, solitary thing all day, and when the men c toymove us I sent them away and told them tO come tomorrow, and so you'll be op har@ to help me, after all, and I had.toJeavé this here for you, be- cause I've got to,,see that dinner’ll be ready for you,wheg) you get back, and the lady hers willjgive jt to you, and Craftyboy siuffed/{he note into his pocket without readjag any more of it. After he left the ouse to take a car for the long ride up 1 his Capitol Hill home, {used to think d,was a pretty wise guy before I gotymarrjed, but I don’t believe T am any mere,” he thought. Craftyboy skayed home from business all the next dayjand,felped to do the pack- ing. —+-s NEW +4508! FOR, PAPER. All Sorts of Manufactured Goods Now Made From Pulp. “Tt is wonderful how extensively paper is taking the,placé o: {Spon substances as wood, brick and iron in various mechanical trade said a large New York dealer in all of novelties made out of paper writer recently. ‘For instance, ‘orts to the boards of all sizes and shapes are now manufactured out of wood pulp to very faithfully resemble the grain and texture of every king of wood, ‘The material costs about ongrhalf the price of the genuine article, and it is used by carpenters, cabi- net makers, picture frame makers and boat builders for paneling, wainscoting and decorative work generally where light- ness and durability. are required. Two ex- cellent qualities that the paper boards pos- sess are that they are not subject to warp- ing and dry rot. There are no bad knots to mar the appearance of the surface, and as the material is smooth and does not re- quire planing, and can be easily cut with a fine saw, there seems every reason to be- Neve that it will in time be used even more than !t ts. 1, “Telegraph and telephone poles, flagstaffs and spars for small sailing vessels are the latest development in the line of manufac- ture from paper. They are made of pulp in which a small amount of borax, tallow and other ingredients are mixed. These are cast in a mold in the form of a hol- jJow rod of the desired diameter and length. The poles and spars are claimed to be lighter and stronger than wood. They do not crack or split, and ft Is said that when they are varnished or painted the weather does not affect them. Besides possessing these advantages, the paper-made article can be made fire proof by saturating it in a strong solution of alumn water. When thoroughly dry the paper poles and spars thus treated will resist the on of flames. “The manufacture of enameled paper bricks, which commenced in 1896, has now become a definite industry, as the material has heen used for buflding purposes all over the United States with very satisfac- tory results. “The preduction of these bricks on the hollow principle is a marked feature in thelr form, the object being practically the same as that sought in the making of hol- low forged stcel shafting. Not only is a defective center removed, but it is possible to put a mandrel into the hollow, and, by applying pressure, the walls are’ operated upon both from inside and outside. When a solid body is heated the temperature of the interior always varies from that of the outer portion at first, often resulting in che expansion of one or the other that causes the defects. It is for these reasons that the pian of forming the bricks upon the hollow principle and plugging them after- ward {is of advantage. Sawdust is found to be a good filler for this purpose. It. is first fireproofed, as is also the paper pu!p used in the bricks, and then it is mixed with cement and pressed into the hollow of the bricks and smoothed and enameled over. ) “Althoagh -paper ‘horseshoes are a recent invention, having cnly been manufactured in this country, within the past two years, their use has-already become quite large with the owners ofifine horses, especially in cities where asphalt Pavements absund. Oa such roads.in wet Weather a horse fit- tel with paper shoes 1s less Mable to slip than when provided with iron ones, and, besides being light and comfortable for an animal to wear, they are said to be more durable than iron shoes and are more easi- ly and snugly’ fitted“'to the hoof. “The paper horseshoe is made in practi- cally the same way that a paper car wheel 1s formed. Tie paper ts impregnated with ofl or turpentine to make it waterproof, after which itJs glued together in layers. The glue or pgSte is a mixture of Venetian turpentine, lingeed Oil, powdered chalk and lacquer, and t¥@oes not become brittle when drying. The fMpist mass of paper and glue is subjected th a ‘strong pressure in a hy- draulic press, the holes through which the nails are driven in fastening the shoes to a horse's hoofs being punched while the pa- per ts sti moist. ‘Phe blacksmith fastens them on with nails in the usual manner. These shoes cost from $1.50 to $2 per set.” ore What Hissing Signifies. From the Philadelphia Pregs. Hissing means different things according to where you happens1q be at the time. In West Africa the natives hiss when they are astonished;.in the New Hebrides, when they see anything beautiful. The Basutos applaud a popular orator in their assem- blies by hissing at him. The Japanese, ugain, show their reverence by a hiss, which has probably somewhat the force of the “hush” with which we command si- jence, THE LIAR AND HIS DOG “Gentlemen of the Liars’ Club,” said No. 9, clearing his throat as he arose to speak, “you will all recall the unusual yet un- questionably veracious narration of our horored member, No. 17” (here No. 17 arose in his seat #nd bowed all around), “at our last midsummer meeting, with respect to the dog which he purchased for a fox ter- Tier last spring, and which grew into the Proportious of a rhinoceros of the masta- donic period within three weeks afier he acquired it. “You will oll remember, gen- tlemen, the heartfelt sympathy we felt for our honored member when he informed us that he was unable to purchase any sum- mer clothing for his family for the reason that it required two bushels of butcher's meat daily to prevent the dog from starv- ing to death. Before, gentlemen of the Liars’ Club,: we call’ upon our honored member to relate unto our sympathetic ears the story of the progress this extra- ordinary animal has made in the matter of growth since the midsummer meeting, [ hope I may be permitted to tell of a dog | downy white mustache had been doing his which I myself purchased three weeks ago last Tuesday, which has exhibited traits in the matter of growing that are dia- metrically opposed to those related by our honored member of his mastadonic fox terrier.” The chairman of the Liars’ Club granted No. 9 permission to proceed. “Fellow members,” proceeded No. 9, “it was in acquiescence to the many times re- peated request of my wife to procure for her a full-grown dog of the mastiff species that I finally decided to gratify her by pur- chasing « dog of this kind. As we have a considerable back yard attached to our residence, and as my wife is partial to very large dogs, I made it my alm to procure for her the very largest mastiff that I could possibly get for a reasonable figure. Not knowing much on the subject of dogs myself, I placed the matter of purchasing one in the hands of a responsible kennel Keeper of the city otf Washington: Three weeks ago last Tuesday the kennel keeper brought to my house a brute, which he said was of the purest mastiff breed, that Was fully as large, gentlemen, as a yearling calf. I never before had seen such an enormous dog. Yet he was as gentle and as amiable as a kitten, and upon the ken- nel Keeper's assurance that the dog w the real thing, and that he was not liable to eat more than §2 worth of fodder per diem, I purchased the mastiff and turned him loose in my back yard. Gentlemen, big as my back yard is, the dog seemed to take up the hole of it. In size, if not in cor formation, he strongly reminded me of the le elephant out at the Zoo. As my wife was highly pleased with the arimal, how- ever, I repressed’ whatever gloomy thoughts I might have had with respect to the prob- able cost of keeping the dog alive—for I had in mind the sad story of cur honored member, No. 17, and his fox terrier that attained the proportions of a rhinoceros. “Gentlemen, our bed room looks out upon the back yard. During the first night of our ownership of the dog I was pleased, rather than annoyed, by his occasional deep barks. There was protection and homeliness in the sound. Along toward morning, however, as I listened to the dog's occasional barks, it struck me that they were pitched in a somewhat higher key than had been the case in the first part of the night. Gentlemen, when I arose in the morning and looked out of the back window something remarkable seemed to me to have happened to that dog. He lay dozing in the sun, but he looked different. I aroused my wife. ““My dear,’ I inquired of her, ‘does it Strike you that that mastiff of ours looks any different from what he did last night?’ “She took one look at the dog, and then turned to me with an expression of be- wilderment. “ ‘Why,’ saidsshe, ‘he is a great deal srraller than he was, is he not?’ Gentlemen, she had hit it precisely right. The dog was smaller by at least one-fourth than he had been on the preceding night. I need not tell you that both my wife and m. If were baffled, not to say shocked. The shrinkage in the size of the dog seem- ed so unprecedented, so unusual, that 1 am sure our minds reverted to those an- cient legends bearing upon the bewitching of brutes. However, I bronght the dog into the kitchen, measured him for future reference, fed him and turned him again into the back yard. He was still a large animal, and I was not disposed to abus him for sacrificing so much of his growth during a single night. My nature fs nat- y kindly with reference to dumb ntlemen, when I returned from my that same evening my wife looked d. I asked her to explain, and she said that the mastiff was still diminishing in size-that she had had him into the kitchen during the afternoon, and that he was fully an inch shorter than the notch I had marked on the wall in measuring him in the morning. I found this to be true. We were worried over it. We were disturbed. And yet the decrease in the dcg's size continued. His appetite remain- ed good and he seemed to be well, but he kept on growing smaller every day. By the time we had had him for ten days he w: about the size of an ordinary pull terrie and yet he seemed as healihy a dog as ever T met. A week ago, gentlemen, that dog had shrunk to the dimensions of only a fair-sized black and tan. I refrained from taking him to a dog doctor, for I feared ridicule. I feared I would ‘not be believed. You well know, gentlemen, what we of this club have to contend with in the way of unbelief. However, my dog kept on decreasing in size until four days ago he was no larger than a fox terrier pup. I never saw such an extraordinary atrophy of a dog’s car- cass in my life, and, as always, I come here to have the matter explained. Within four days, gentlemen of the Liars’ Club, that dog has been reduced to this, his present size.” No. 9 pulled out of his sack-coat pocket a little, shivering, hairless Mexican dog that weighed about half a pound, and held the dog up for the inspection of the club. recommend,” said the chairman of the * Club, “that before this extraordinary canine of No. 9s becomes reduced to the size of a cockroach and crawls into the sink trap, thus clogging the club's plumb- ing appliances, he be removed from the building.” No. 9 therefore withdrew with the dog, and the meeting went on. ———— A Sensible Mul From the New York Tribune. For more than ten years a very sensible mule has ben working in the mines near Blossburg, Ala. He will pull his usual load of six cars of coal from bottom to top with- out a murmur, but if you put on an extra ear he will kick and bray and refuse to go until relieved. When the cars loaded at the top he will always me empty car and lie down and ride to the bot- tom of the slope, a distance of half a mile. On one occasion as he was drawing up a load a train of empty cars got loose and went down the slope at a break-neck speed, and the men thought the mule would be killed by the collision, but as the empty cars were about to rush on him he jumped cn the first one and rode back to the *bot- tom with the whole train. ———+ e+ —____ Honeymooning in Paris. From Punch. — Jones—“‘Am I not an expensive little wifle?” - Jones (who has spent the morning and a small fortune at the Magasin du Louvre)— “Well, you are a little dear!” ' JOHNSON? Proof to the Contrary, The prematurely bald young man with a | best to make a profound impression on his rural relatives. There was-no reason why | he should do this except in obedience to a natural tendency which is second only to that of self-preservation, the desire to show off. The old gentieman with heavy-soled boots and a black string necktie had listen- ed silently for a long time. He broke In on the series of travelers’ tales with the re- mark: “It kind o’ beats my time that the west end o' this continent should be so different from the east.” ‘Oh, if you haven't traveled much and don’t know the difference, this part of the world is all right,” was the answer. : But {t oughtn’ to be so misrepre- | sented. They ought not to complain that the east has gone an’ organized monopol! to gobble everything worth havin’ when the west has all the geysers an’ the petri fled forests and the trees that you can f people with nothing much to do ex take Mfe easy and make a few apeec around election time.” Ah. you didn’t take into account the in- tellectual responsibility That's the point. That's exactly where I went wrong in my calculation, I didn’t count up the mental wear and tear. I never before paid enough attention to the Question to find out hew much salary a congressman got. Now that I've found out, I'm filed with remorse. I wouldn't take the job under any persuasion, I can’t help sympathiging with a congressman when I think of the way the government keeps shoving all that money relentlessly at him month after month. No matter how he may need rest, nothing he can say or do Will sto} It must keep him hustling day and night trying to keep up t ae value received.” a, ee » * * Out of the Darkness, Oh, ghostly voices of the night, Once more you come. will tiently showing its Httle skill “Tis the whippoor- To teach that the humble who strive aright May win some love from the listening throng. To the casement I go to salute your song— Are-e-e-e-k! Are Arickety- ree That's the street car sounding its fen h glee. Its strident tenor upsets each nerve As it goes full speed round the double curve And you wait and shudder, for well you know Another will come in a minute or so. Ob, ghostly voices of the night! Far o'er the world the pallid moon Harks to the melancholy tune Breathed in the shivering poplar’s height, As houseless winds come wande use in their lon @rive a horse and wagon through, if you can find an augur big enough to make the | hole. I know it’s all true, too, fur I've seen pictures of those things in the geogra- phies. But this lake you was tellin’ about— I can’t help thinkin’ you got imposed on somehow there.” “You mean the Great Salt Lake in Utah. there. I saw it with my own eyes.” fhe lake that’s so salt fish can’t live in it ‘ertainly.” “An’ when you went bathin’ you found And what's more I'm not doubtin’ your veracity. I don't say you don’t t ery bit of this in good faith. I've had the same kind of experience One time I was in a room where breakfast had just been set, and al- though I was a stranger in the walked up and took a fried egg plate with a spoon ¢nd put jt in my mouth. Imagine my surprise when I immediate! began to r. up and toward the ce | it Was amazin’ now fine I floated. My wife the girls was just as surprised as 1 s when they came in and saw me, and ever forget how funny they looked hoppin’ up into the air, tryin’ to do the same thing. After while I wanted to get down, but I n't make it. I began to get worried. I started to call for help and accidentally bit into the egg. As soon as I did so I was gently lowered till I had the use of both feet as usual. And it all seem- ed so real when I got up the next mornin’ I thought eatin’ breakfast an’ feed- in’ the pigs must be a dream.” “But, my dear sir—” “It's all right. I don’t attach any blame to you. It can all be explained by sci- ence. But you can't make me believe thet anybody could bathe in water as salt as you say that was and come home so un- common fresh. It couldn’t be done.” * x“ * An Experience. We needed the money, so where was the harm? We knowed we could carry the debt. We drawed up the papers an’ mortgaged the farm, An’ bought what we'd wanted to get. An’ it isn’t the money the enterprise cost Whose memory rankles an’ stings, But the brains we wore out an’ the time that we lost Over debits an’ credits an’ things. We agreed chance; So we opened, with ardor intense, A book that was ruled off to show at a glance Each item of gain or expense. We might have learnt dancin’ or grammar or Greek, Or to play on the mandolin strings In the time we kep’ figgerin’, week after week, Over debits an’ credits an’ things. that economy was our main These business transactions—they’re simple at first, But they're never jes’ what you intend; An’ there's no one seems able to tell you the worst, Or when you'll arrive at the end. It's no use to kick—though it does seem a shame, Whose remembrance resentfully clings, ‘To pay half a dollar fur signin’ your name To debits an’ credits an’ things. My friend, you kin bet when we git out o' debt We will never git in any more. But the future has comforts. it's pleasant to let Our thoughts seek that beautiful shore Where there's gold in the street. An’ what makes it complete Is the fact that your wanderin’ wings, Wherever they lead you, won't cause you to meet With debits an’ credits an’ things. * * x Sympathy. It was a bashful sort of man who had called to see the member of Congres: “I happened to be in town,” he said, “and I thought I'd come and see you, being as it isn’t the busiest time of year in your line of business.” He leaned his hat against the leg of a chair and extended his hand as the host exclaimed: “That’s right. I'm glad to see you. Sit down and make yourself at home.” “I came here principally to make a con- fession and repair a wrong. I’ve been look- ing this government over, secing how it’ run, and I’ve had my ideas changed in sev- eral ways. I want to come right out like a man and tell the truth. I may as well own up that I've ‘been doing you an injustice.” “Why—you voted for me, didn’t you?” “Yes. Lg I 5 ng con- gressm: gent ve and thought things which I want to take I looked on ‘em as a leisure | The And 7 ness to si = kerdump, ker-rattl: rdump, thump! That's Bloker's chump! He nearly fell at the pavement’s edg: ‘Twas just last week that he sign the pledge, But, alas, it is painfully plain to see That it’s broke, and, probably, so ts he, ty- cab. The graceless Oh, ghostly voices of the night— Far from yon crumbling mansion fi A gruesome minstrel’s uncanny notes. The wide-eyed owl, with hovering flight Mocks at poor man, who but waits again For day, when his sorrows will be more plain— “Ber-a-a-a-nk! Ber-~a-a-a-nk! Ber-a-a anky-berawk!”" They're out for their usual nightiy walk— The men who linger till sleep Is sweet And then bring shovels to c They'll gleefully scrape it, up and down, Till they wake the whole of the slum- ng town, © night— But "Tis day-break’s rosy blush And now a long, harmonious rush Of sounds confused brings a deep delight. blen noises of wakening marts, The milkmen's wagons hucksters’ carts— “A-ting! A-ling Nay, breakfast sing Your brisk and often inspiring lay; Too strong are the wiles of the slum- brous day. and A bell, ngety-ding!” ‘tis in vain you And yet your welcome is far from slight, Sweet knell of these voices of the night. * x * courngement. Mrs. Hamminfry’s Caughter was practic. ing very industriously when the good woman came into the music room and sat herself down complacently. Don't let interrupt you, Lorinda,” p said. I like to hear the dulcet strains mehogany piano, and I thought I'd steal 11 here and while away a few min- ute: You musn’t let me disturb your practice.” She nodded in time to the piece the per- former was trying to learn. She was wont to notice that while she couldn't measure exactly how high or how low she ought to go in s , owing to lack of practice, S possessed a splen- me did ear for time. Presently there was a hitch in the rhythm. The heavy beats in the music did not come in the right place amd her effort to catch the accent caused her head to move somewhat erratically. “Lorinda,” she exclaimed, “what's the Are you playing tricks?” was the answer. “This part of the piece is rather hard. You see, there are so many grace notes in it.” “Well, keep right at it, dear, and don't get discouraged,” was the gentle, motherly reply. “Get that part even if you have to neglect the rest. It'll do you good. Sometimes I'd as lief see a person play graceful as to hear her play correct.” ~-—_——- Sheep Without Wool. rom the New York Press. The principal kind of meat consumed by the people of Arabia, both native and for- eign, is the mutton of the Somail, or black- head sheep, and, no matter by whom eaten, all pronounce it the best mutton ever tasted. This sheep, as its name indicates, is frora the Somali country, on the African coast. These sheep have no wool, but-short, fine hair, similar to that of a dog. The most peculiar thing about them is thet they have a large lump of pure fat grow- ing right at the root of the tail, and this fat varies in size and weight according to the condition of the sheep. A medium- sized hi of this fat weighs about four pounds. ich a sheep, which weighs from thirty-five to forty pounds, is sold at from four to five rupees (85 cents to $1.05), The