Evening Star Newspaper, November 12, 1898, Page 14

THE: EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1898—24 PAGES. “The pneums tion in thi sentative turing c: promises than the wheel th denying t rt PI ncern to Aub is the coming inven- remarked ¢ fe eyele line,” thing in every way tire, which made ceess It is. There is no e solid tire had about ended up the bieycl ress, when the pneumat- fc tire was introduced and immediately caught on. But the pneumatic tire ts not altogether a perfect thing, as many have realized to their discomfort and sorrow. While they n't puncture or explode as often as non-riders may imagine, there is @n uncertainty about them that is very an- noying, for there is no telling when they Will break dk down always ent plac time. The of punctu are not spect they ar The puncture an rune yet and proba be no nec proves to I achievement are already which have t . erim bility i that it can & the resiliency pleasant. and a good-bye can be said to pneum tires. There will be a solid tire again, when the safety form of the wh introduced. The pneumatic hub which has the most springness or resiliency about it, and which at the same time is | thoroughly strong and safe, will go int general use immediately. I do not know fled with the have been practicai and ft, but I th: Gozens of patterns and sty t any manufacturer Is sufficiently offered to announe: ik that In less t »wn, and somehow the break- oceurs at the most inconyeni- nd at the most inconvenient Ss Ures are all right, only they eless. In every other re- that is claimed for them. Jess tire has not been invented ably will not be, for there wil! ty for it if the pneumatic hub tu anything like as glorious 1n as is claimed for it. There a half dozen different kinds, een offered to manufacturer: nts are being made as to th ‘The princ ir pe inflated. that is needed to make riding atis- ic hubs which that it is » work required of an six months various pneum will do announcement can be de. The one that seems to be nearest a success is a French invention and is the work of a man who never rode a whee! of any kind. est as The far as I learn 1s the invention who is very likely to be a his idea works out right. The an get along with the pneumatic tire and can keep on pump- ing and patching it up, but he won't do so if the be a satis kit of hi Many are ¢ ninety-nine o pn m: not. and do it.” “The first an was suppose, br nd Manch Baltimo 1 more to Ell motive, h introduce orc we i patent country Fs 1 ords, = sure k impro: sure w land in 1 motive fi would t Lond, straig! a Th lecomotiv road, a d to make dred miles. ive b 1 in th which “I don't know who is responsible for i said a privat “but just not robes of wias 3 allow past week 7 abe enough at ai railroad id railroad man to ster. and Ohto railroad ant to the credit of the fi enziand being ance dinary fork or Newport during atic hub offers itself. It will tion to him if he can leave his ome during his runs, for while ert in repairing punctures, ut of every hundred riders are not inclined to learn how to se eee run by st not in this country in England, between London This was in 1850. The was running r, but steam was not put in a 1831, the cars being drawn t road then only ran from Bal- cott Mills. There was a loco- ver, built long before it s England, being the invention 1769, in France. mington invented a practical Scotland in 1770. hiladelphia obtained ed for a locomotive in called It a steam wagon, but I intents and purposes a loc: according to the patent office ed it in 1787. The high pre: e dates back to 1802, and an on it in 1803. The high pres- 1 to a locomotive in E n off with a locomotive built io t after the plan of the loc the London and Manchester Cooper, a millio preside: who afterward aire merchant al greenback 1 philanthropist, overeame the devised and’ made a lo Baltimore and Ohio which the curves of its read. The Manchester road was perfectly Ba more and Ohio is al: a covered car, the ca open. Thi ad was the first to a traction power on of 150 miles, and the first mtinuous trip of over one hun- | There was a train ri yetween Albany and but {t was rather a pri carriage and in bodies on car wheels. There were, pis country, several other short did all the traffic they could xe eK KK © coachman to a § ar reporter, w the fad Is to do away with | 1 kinds for the drivers and occu- ge and ot as well, and particular- er open carriages. It r thing for the gentlemen who own road teams to Wear any t robe to protect their legs or to r coachmen to do so. Until the r so I did not complain much it, for the weather was not severe | sause any suffering, ferent now. but it is The thing started the past al visitor droy out ome re 1 idea in them | e the hub of the wheel built so | This will give all | A Scotch- | Oliver | the first | this | hot work well in taking | ff long | | | with a slightly a ride In their carrizges, and who pay us to Grive them, it may be pardonable for a coachman to say that he would prefer to be allowed to cover up his legs aa much as possible. The answer to this from many will be, no doubt, that if a coachman does rot like to do as he Is told he shouid give up his job, but that, after all, 1s not an answer, for coachmen must live and tive by driving horses. Neither is it a public q tion, for those who are affected by it are very few, but as the subject was in my mind and the pain from it in my legs, I ventured what I have said. “It may be well to add that what a knewn as the conservatives do nox :tcce new fad. for they believe mors in com- than style. both for themselves and their coachmen.” ** * * * t has been my lot.” observed 1 postal mail route agent to a St reporter. “‘dur- ing the twenty-three years I have been in the service to be on trains that have run over and kiled over twenty men and wo- men. I have also seen a number of others whe have beer killed, though I was not on the train that did the killing. In every in- stance the kiliing was the result of care- | lessness of the persons killed in not observ- ing the approach of the train, and it has impressed on me the firm conviction that there should rot only be gates at much- traveled crossings, but actual fences, | through which no one should be allowed to s whea the train is near at hand. If people will be careiess it is the duty of some one to save them from the results of their own carsiessress, and the railroads should be compelled to fence their tracks. There are no such killings by the railroads in Eu- repe, for the reason that the laws require that the railroads be fenced in, and the | railroads find that it pays to do so. There lis no exception. In many instances there ‘3 ot only a fence, but high stone walls on beth sides of the track, so that it matters [mot how careless persons are, they cannot jbe run ovec by the train, for the reason that they cannot get to the track except at the proper gates, which are located at every crossrcads. here is one peculiarity about the ap- arance of every pe! mn killed by a train, and that is, in every instance where a per- on is struck or run over the clothes are {literally torn off them. I have never known an exception to th In many instances that have come uncer my observatioa every | sbred of the clothing worn has been torn off as thoroughly as if cut off with a knife.” ee THE RULING PASSION. One Man Who Did Not Want Gold at Any Time. The New York drummer, born with a gold spcon in his mouth, of course, was talking to half a dozen listening drummers. “A man in our business,” he was saying, , a8 you all know, liable to see and hear some strange things, and all of us have had our share. There's your humble servant, for instance. Four weeks ago I was down in Georgia, in a county where every pros- pects silver and only gold is vile, and the man I was selling a big bill of goods to was the sixteen-to-oneest old chap you ever saw. Indeed, he was so affected, infected nd afflicted with it that he even talked silver in his sleep, and gave away the best coon dog he ever owned because it was yellow and he hated the color so. But to the story. The day I spent with him there was a funeral at the meeting house near | the store, the cief actor in it being one of the prominent citizens of the county. My friend asked me to go with him, as the would be interesting exercises in the shape | of brief fun | deceased's virtues by other prominent citi- zens who had been his friends. As he wa | to be one, of course, I promptly accepted his invitation, and we were there on time. Everything went off beautifully and there sn't a dry eye in the house, until my end arose to offer his remarks. Ther wasn’t a person in the ecngregation more deeply moved than he was, and as he was quite a capable man I fixed myself to he: the best speech of the occasion. “He arose slowly and looked over the 1 ple gathered about him with weeping e: “Dear friends and fellow travelers to | that bourne whence none returns,’ he said, with a sniffle, ‘inasmuch as Brother Jack man has just spoken of our late lamented friend and fellow citizen as now upon the ets of the golden city, I think it is only ting for me to say that the crime of — “What else he might have said nobody | knows, but at the same time an impulse moved the man on the other side of him and the man at his back to simuitaneously | grab for him, and by some means they got him headed the other way, and his remarks were fully as appropriate as ony others.” —— How It Saved Pain. From the New Orleans Times-Democrat. “There's been a wonderful advance in dental surgery of late years,” said a man swollen jaw. “The old, brutal style of yanking out inolars by main strength and awkwardness has gone out of date. I had a tooth pulled this morning,” and the whole thing was so quiet and easy I could scarcely believe It had been done. I took a whiff of gas, and opencd my eyes to find the tooth gone. I didn’t even see the forceps. It was in strong contrast, by ; the way, with an experience of mine some years ago, when painless dentistry was still in its experimental stages. I had a back tooth that was giving me ‘its, and went to a man who advertised painless ex- traction by means of what “electrical forceps.’ It was a complic foreign device, long since abandoned, ¢ sent a current along the instrument just as it took hold. The dentist was a candid- | looking chap, and I asked him to tell me honestly whether it would hurt. ‘Well,’ he id, ‘it's like this: Suppose a fellow hit | you in the mouth with his fist, and at the | same time hit you on the nose with a brick -you wouldn't feel the fist, would you? I told him to go ahead and drag out the tooth in the good, old-fashioned way. After that explanation I wanted no electric for- was enough for summer | eps in mine.” fall driving, but it seems to me aoe pee = _ cruel — of a fashion, and ore Monstrosities. which h will not generally prevail fi 7 Puc! this section of the country. What secikes | fm Puck. cullar about it is that these “Madge says there are two kinds of men nice open turnouts who could | She can’t endure.” iy can all icked fn under the robes cam- ow ride without any prot Walle it is not the place for a What are the: “Young men trying to act old, and ole men trying to act young.” 1 addresses setting forth the | i} | STRANGER THAN’ FICTION The herein contained is a true story of the lost and found. While visiting at the Zoo on Sunday after- noon last a former Washington woman— noted for her beauty, dash and cleverness when she lived here—who figured in a nota- ble divorce suit, instituted upon her own application, in this city a few years back, and who, not long after she secured her divorce, married a wealthy Baltfmorean, lost a pocketbook contatning a considerable amount of money, a very valuable pair of diamond hoop earrings, a diamond sun- burst, two marquise rings and a few other articles of jewelry of smaller value. The pocketbook was contained in a small satch- el of the sort women wear swinging to their skirts. When she noticed the absence of the satchel the Baltimore woman, with great agitation, told her companions of her loss, and the Zoo police and keepers were hasti- ¥ sought. None of them could do any more for the distressed woman than to tell her that they would watch out for a satchel of the kind she described. With her compan- jons the young woman from the terrapin in town hunted industriously for the lost satchel, retracing carefully the path she had taken through the grounds. But her search was unsuccessful. “The satchel has been picked u the victim of the loss disconsolately, and, of course, I shall never see or hear of it again.” Whereupon she wept, naturally enough. Upon the gloomy return of the party of women to the city the husbands of the vic: tim’s companions tried to assuage the youns woman's grief by telling her that it would be “for her to get back her satchel with its contents intact; that they'd go right down and put ads. in the paper for it, and that somebody’d be sure to fetch it around for the reward in the morning be- fore breakfast, etc., ete. She thanked them for their optimistic views of her loss, but declined to be comforted. One of the hus- bands was just about to go into the hall to get his hat and coat preparatory to starting down town to the newspaper offices to in- sert ads. for the lost satchel, when there was a tug at the door bell, which the man answered himself. A small colored boy had a daintily addressed note for Mrs. So-and- So, the Baltimore woman who had lost the chel. The man, feeling that the note contained some information concerning the loss, hastily carried it to his wife's guest. When sine opened and read it she was al- most overcome with joy, The note read: “If Mrs. So-and-So of No. 1000 Z% street will call at No. 2000 & street I think she will be able to identify a satchel which she probably lost at the Zoo this afternoon. The writer of the note prefixed the “Mrs.” in parentheses before her name. Z street is not far from & street, and the happy young matron from Baltimore was at the address given in the note in a trifle less than no time. A handsome woman of thirty or thereabouts was sitting in the bay window of the residence when the vic- tim of the loss rang the door bell, and she answered the ring herself, probably sur- mising who the visitor was. The finder of the satchel was a very gracious woman. She handed the satchel, with all of its con- tents intact, over to the young matron from Baltimore without asking for identifi- cation of any of the articles. “Of course,” she said, “I was compelled to open the satchel when I picked it up—for arious reasons I did not care to hand it over to the police officers or the Zoo people —and in it I found a letter addressed to you from Baltimore. ‘hat’s how I hap- pened to know your name and address."” “How fortunate that I stuck the letter I received from my husband into the satchel yesterday afternoon!” exclaimed the Bal- timore woman. She was very profuse in her expressions of gratitude to the finder of her lost satchel, but she seemed to be hesitating over something. She looked around the rich rooms, and then said: “If you would only permit me to send some little token to your children, to ex- hibit my profound gratitude to you!” The other woman smiled graciously, and ai I have no children—I have only been married three. months. And I am very sure that you have nothing whatever to be grateful to me for.”” Then the young woman from B: had an idea. “Iam forever losing things,” she said, and I'm positively afraid I shall lose this chel again on my way back to my friend's home. I shall just put the ear- rings and rings and pendant on, anyw so that if I do lose the satchel again shall at least save something. Which she did. Then, with renewed ex- pressions of gratitude, she arted to take her leave. As she did so. there was the rattle cf a latch key In the inner vestibule door, and then a tall, good-locking m with rather a cruel mouth and jaw—enter- ed. When he saw nis wife's visitor, the man’s face assumed an extremely mysti- fled exvressicn, and he looked from one to the other of the women with a puzzicd countenance. His wife's visitor gave the slightest start in the world when the man entered, but controlled herself beautifully when she got a significant giance from him. The man’s wife introduced her vis- itor to him, telling lim at the same time of ore i the happy outcome of the loss of the satchel. While she was telling the story the man looked hard. and with an ex- pression of recognition at the diamond hoop earrings in the ears of his wife's visitor. Then the young matron from Bal- timore took her leave. When she reached the home of her friends and told them of the recovery of her pocket book, amid many expressions of congratulations, she went up to her room and her hostess followed her. “Jack had a chance to again look uyon the hoop earrings ne gave me for a wed- nig present,” said the Baltimore young nan to her hostess, removing the ear- rirgs. ‘Jack? Surely met your former hus—” “Yes. He's now the husband of the charming woman who returned my satchel you don't mean that you to me. She vresented him to me. Oh, 10— no scene, no recognition, no meledrania, or anything like that. It all pa off beau- tifully. They've only been married three months, she told me. I wanted so mush to say to her, ‘God help you, you poor wo- man!’ But of course I couldn't. A very tiny world, is it not?” The next morning she sent to the finder of her satchel a magnificent bunch of American Beauty roses. The recipient of the flowers all uncons-iously wore them ‘n her ccrsage at the theater that evening. Frozen Over at Last! From the Chicago Times-Herald. The young man who has come back from the far north and describes the Klondike as “one vast, measureless hell of frost, ice and snow,” evidently has an imagina- tion which would make him a most suc- cessful advertising agent for a circus, =e = Thousands of situations have been ob- tained through the want columns of The Star. pyright, 1888, Life Publishing Company.) THE EDUCATION OF MR. PIPP. j you call aj rap WHY HE=DOES NOT BET “No,” said a well-known citizen and Jo- nah of Mt. Pleasant. “I’m not going to the Benning races—pot by a long shot (con- found thaf‘phrag41—nor to any other races; nor am I going 4g read the results; nor2am I going to permit Xny man, even my most in- timate friend, to-say ‘race’ to m2 while the meeting is going on. I never was what man, although, when I was younger, P¥e put my watch in and smoked a pipe-for awhile after some of the meetings—yet I nevor trained with the horsey, h®t-sport class; never had time. But, for all that, I'll bet two dollars that I had a harderthgow-down on a single one- mile horse race than any check-suited, red- necktiod, handicapping railbird of the pad- deck that ever stepped on a barrel-hoop cr chewed a straw. I've never seen a horsé race since. I never shall see a hors> again, unless I'm kidnaped and hauled to a track unbeknownst to myself, s0 to speak. This is why: “About five years ago I went over to New York on business. When I got through with the businass I went out one afterncon to see the racing at Morris Park. I hadn't been following the horses or keeping any sort of line on their work for a long while, and it was probably for that reasoa that L won some money on that afternoon at Mor- ris Park. I just played the plugs whose names struck m3, and let the others slide. Among the horses that I won on was a rag named Jo Dann. I put down $25 on Jo Dann to finish third in his race, and got 2 to1on my money. Jo Dann finished third. He was the last horse in the race to get away from the post, in a field of fourteen, but he picked up ground all the way around —it was a mile race—and came lik 2 a cy- clone at the finish. In a couple o' more jvmps he would have won the race. As it was, he was only beaten a nose and a neck. Jo Dann wasn’t a pretty nor stylish-iook- ing brute, but he struck me as being about as nifty a stretch-finisher as 2ver I saw. He looked to me like a horse that didn’t know when he was licked, and I like any kind of a living thing that’s built that way, particularly a horse or a man. I carried a strong admiration for Jo Dann away from the Morris Park track that afternoon, al- ikough none of the regular race followers scemed to think he was much. ‘A couple of weeks after I got back to Washington the fall race meeting over at St. Asaph began; I didn’t particularly itch to go over to see the racing until one morn- ing 1 accidentally caught the name of Jo Dann among the entries in a swell race. ‘Then I began to hark back mentally to that fine fish Jo Dann had put up for me at Morris Park, and I ended by deciding to go across the river that afternoon to see whether or not he was really the counter- fuit he was considered by the racing fra- ternity. The horses that Jo Dann was to go up against in the race were just about the finest i ming—all_ handicappers with any number of brackets to their ames. One of ihe actually great horses tered in that race, for example, was the famous Sir Waiter, then a three-year-old, one of th» season's big stake winners—a long-distance horse that’s still making strong bids for purses with his weight of eight ‘s. \Eut the swell horses entered against Jo Dann didn’t bother me a Htt'e bit. Befoce | went over to St. Asaph that afternoon 1 gid a lot of Jo Dann talking around among my friends. They all gav me the taugff, said that Jo Dann couldn’ beat a bread Wagon, and told me I'd be a candidate for a lunatic asylum if I put down my sacney on such a crab to beat a lot of thesSwest horses in training. ““All right,” {told ‘em, ‘you'll all be sorry if you don't play Jo Dann, all the » od the upshot of all this was that 1 sort o' half comyinced about half a dozen of my frignds that I had the Jo Dann pick about rigut. they weren't going over the track, thes® fellows, and so each ot them, just as @-little flyer, handed me a $10 note te putjon Jo Dann to win, pro- viding I could get as good as 10 to 1 on him. = “T went ov»: {0'St. Asaph and just watch- ed the firét twd races on the card, without playing them (b was waiting for the third race—the;Jo Benn event. Meantime I talked with some fellows I knew in the stand, and fold them what I thought of Jo Dann# haters. They, too, hooted me. “‘He's ‘a dim, they said. ‘He couldn’: catch a caievpiiar with a two-blocks’ start. Don't be fociizin’ £ “I smile@- at them in a superior sort of way, like aman does when he has/a ‘hunen’ that his good thing ts bound to go through, and for the betting on the race to open. When I had a look at the books I came near going down! Sir Walter was th favorite in the race at 5 to 2 on—or, to make it more clear, 2 tc inst—and there were three or four horses in the race that weren't much better in the betting. It was a thir- teen-horse field, and the horse I had p'cked to win, Jo Dann, was the rank outsider at 150 to 1 against in the betting! Weil, that sort o’ got me going. I was afraid there must be something the matter with Jo Dann, or he wouldn’t be at such a long fig- ure as that. I couldn't make it out. Then I got my Irish up, and became ugly and stub- horn, and decided that I'd just play Jo Dann anyhow, rank outsider or mo Tank outsider. I had $60 of my friends’ money to put on him to win, and I was going to chip in $40 of my own, making $100 altogether, which, put on Jo Dann at odds of 150 to 1 against, would have made me stand to win $15,000 ‘on the race. J walked up to one of the bookies’ stands to make the bet, and was just handing the money over en Jo Dann to win, when a business friend of mine whom I hadn't seen knocked my arm up—he had heard me say to the booki ‘One hundred ¢n Jo Dann to win’—and hau ed me away from the bookmaker’s stall. “Are you crazy? he asked me. ‘Don't you know that Jo Dann is the deadest one that ever came down the pike? What do you want to throw your money away for? “Well, I wavered at that, and listened to him. _He said that Sir Walter ought to be a 1 to 50 shot to win, and proved it by reter- ence to his ‘dope book.’ So, losing hold of my Irish for a second, I walked over to a bookmaker and put down the $100 on Sir Walter to win at 2 to 5, only ding to win $40 on the race. I felt sorry I had dane this even before the horses were off vt the pest, but there was no help for it then. So I climbed into the grand stand to watch the “Well, Sir Walter, a grand-looking brute, got away from the post first, and started to tiptoe his*field. At the quarter he was seven lengths ahead of the bunch. I watched for Jo Dann’s colors, and 1 was glad I hadn't bet on him when I'saw that he had got away from the post last, and was moving around in the ruck like a lobster. At the half Sir Walter had a lead of five lengths, and seemed to be only galloping, the others trailing after him like a lot of wing-clipped hens. At the three-quarter pole, Sir Walter still had his lead of five lengths, and was going easy. At the be- ginning of the far turn T noticed a horse shoot out of the bunch ‘way behind and set sail for Sir Walter, the leader. I put up my field glasses, and the colors of that horse were Jo Dann’s. He was going like the Congressional Limited without any urg- ing on the part of the boy on top of him, and he was gaining on Sir Walter at every stride. The boy on Sir Walter looked back and saw}the homely-looking nag mowing him down. The boy shook Sir Walter up, and the great three-year-old jumped out and start@l tezrace~ It was too late. Jo Dann collaredghim at the head of the stretch, out of the clouds in a whirlwingjf @ist, and I never want to see a prettie tye horse race than that was down the’ w. length of the stretch. As the two horses. nose and nose, rushed past the stand, I closed my eyes. I couldn't stand it, honest, I couldn’t. I was out for fully ten geconds. The thing that brought me to wag the huge cry of the crowd: ‘Jo Dann wins by a neck!” “Then J saw Jo Dann’s number go up, and I dort remember much after that, ex. cept the Zong dreary walk into Washing- ton. I didn’t dare ridé on the train. I knew those fellows who had given me their money to et”or#Jo Dann would be waiting for me at the train, each prepared to col- lect $1,5009from me.” They were there. as I found out afterward. I gained the town on foot, under cover of darkness. But. they dug me up at my home. 1 tried to barrie cade the doors against them, but I couldn't The insults. “jibes, vituperation, infamy, they heaped upon me, all together, for hours—say, do you wonder that I'm not go- ing to the Benning races?” SS It pays to read the want columns of The Star. Hundreds of situations are filled through them. ———— A Thorghtful Man. Prem Life. _ Dudley (to physician)—“Both women ate fruit for supper, and I suppose it wasn't quite ripe. My mother-in-law was taken sick first; but, believing that my wife would be soon seized with a similar I deferred sending for you until sonmancel be able to kill two birds with one stone.” FRENCH AS SHE IS SPOKE “In the fall of 1892, when I was ‘covering the hotels’ in Chicago for my paper,” said one of the correspondents from the town of wind, “I went down to the Grand Pacitic one evening to have a talk with John J. Ingalls about ary old thing or things he cared to expatiate upon. Mr. Ingails, just then, was new at the business of being a Statesman out of a job, and ne wasn't in @ Very ta.kative mood. He was cheerful and cordial encugh, but there didn’t appear to be any poliucs in him. He fanned me in that accompiished way he used to have, notwithstanaing my long acquaintancesnip With him—asked me if 1 was nappy, and it so, why; if 1 thought the cool weather was going to hang on; if the sky was reai- ty migner in Cmeago thin esewnere; it 1 aiked puttermiuk; 1 1 ever experienced that red feeling; if 1 had kicked ror a raise in Saiary yet; it 1 was benaving myseit; if 1 aamired the good, the true and Ure beauti- Tul, and so ¢n—regulation gonn J. taik— evasion from start to finish. When he finaily streeied off into an express:on of his reverence tor Wagnerian music, 1 trankiy grinned in his face and started to leave. “ “Anything doing anywnere tonight?’ he asked me as 1 picked up my hat. “I had a coupe of seats in my pocket for Sarah Bernhardt, and John J. jooked kind o” lonesome, smoking his cigar in nis room: so 1 invited him to come aiong with ine to McVicker’s to see Bernhardt in ‘Jeanne @’Are.’ He iooked pleased at ine invitation, saying that he had never seen the xreat French actress except from the floor of the Senate on an ion w: e sppeared in the visitors’ galiery. we took in ‘Jeanne d’Are’ in compan “Now, I don’t know a word of French, even if I did take as many as nine lessons in an Allendorf book. So that I was rath- er glad to have such an accomplisied French scholar along with me, to do a bit of teanslating for me on the side when Sarah got to talking particu.arly fast and furiously. Mr. Ingatls tilled his part to the dot. He gave me a bully line on the whole show It it hadn't been for him, [ wouldn't have known whether the divine Sarah was making love to the pretty buy of the piece or throwing oral javelins at him. Mr. In- galls was carried away with the acting of the great Frenchwoman, and he was mut- tering throughout the picce the words, ‘Sa- rah imperatrix,’ whatever that means. Af- ter the performance [ toll the ex-senator thet I was assigned to interview Madame Bernhardt for the Sunday paper on the foliowing evening, and ed him if he cared to meet her. He said he'd be delight- ed to meet such an extraordinary woman, and so I picked him ap at the Grand Pa- cific the next evening ani w2 went over to the Hotel Richelieu to interview Sarah. About a dozen other newspaper men were on hand, as it was to be a sort of combina- So tion interview. Henry Abbey, Madame Bernhardt'’s manager, led the way to the actress’ and solemnly intro- duced us all by name. Sarah toyed with a tiny toy kangaroo thit she had brovght from Australia throughout the introduc on business, and regarded us with dreamy eyes. I gucss we all looked alike to her. After she had tossed the kangaroo into a pillowed corner and taken into her lap a Vicious little cub bear, also from Australia, the interview was on. One of the rews- paper men, a clever fellow named Arnett, who had spent a number of years in Paris, and who spoke French like a native, start- ed the thing geing. Sarah's spiel was of the customary sort. Oh, oul, she loved America and Americans beyond ell things. The Australians—pouf! they were bcors— which meant that they hadn’t made very much over the divine Was there any yarn about her zi hinese opium joints of San Francisco? Ob. oui, all true —and so interesting! And so on. “Then John J. chimed in with a question in French. It sounded like the real thing to us, did John J.’s French, although Ar- rett looked up with a bit of a smile when the ex-senator asked his question. Mad- ame Bernhardt just looked at Mr. Inga:ls with a solemn gaze, and vouchzafed no re- ply. John J. repezted his question. Arnett fiddled with bis hat a bit, but he wasn't nervy enough to attempt to translate the ex-senator’s Erglish. “‘Je n’ est ces pas—Anglese--I no un’- stan—ees eet not? said the great Sarah, regarding the flushing Ingalls fixedly. “Mr. Ingalls reveated his questi ame Bernhardt turned with glance to Arnett, but Arnett na: and looked out of the window. In ed it_up ‘Then Mr. ails repeated his question once more. et ees truly—I not un’stan’,” answered Sarah, and then, probably to indicate that it was all off, she began teasing the cub bear to make bim snarl. “"T asked,’ remarked Mr. Ingalls, great deliberation, his well-enuncia English, ‘if you consider American audi ences as appreciative of the drama as con- tinental audiences—Latin-European audi- ences?” “Madame Bernhardt’s countenance was immediately illuminated with understard- ing. ““‘More!’ she exclaimed. ‘Zey are more —what you say—appreetziatif! Zey burst ze bounds! J'adore—I loaf ze ieains!” and thus on, in quite understandable Eng- ‘sh, for Madame Bernhardt had picked up a smattering of our language on her leng Australian tour. “Her ‘obtuscness’ in not understanding his French, while she perfectly ecmpre- hended his English, had a gloomy effect upon Mr. Ingalls, and he relapsed into silence. We all left a short time after that. he next evening I met Madame Bern- hardt in the hall of the Hotel Richelieu_as she was about to leave for the theater. She nodded to me merrily, and said: “Ze name of ze tall, ze thin man with vhat you call—ze gl. was— ‘Oh,’ I replied, ‘that was ex-Sen: galls, a famous man of our count? “ ‘Ah, ees eet true?’ she said. ‘What ver’ fine Anglese he sp “And his French, madame?’ “The divine Sarah smiled der out of the tail of her , and vassed on. I never had the nerve to tell Ingalls of her commendation of his English.” THE MOUNTAIN MALD'S ESTIMATE. Men Are All Right, but Apple Batter’s More Important. The road led down off the mountain and past so near the side of a farm house nestling in the narrow valley that I was within speaking distance of a tall, slab- sided mountain maid stirring apple butter in an iron wash kettle that would hold about ten gallons. A loose stone hearth had been thrown together in the yard and a bed of blazing embers was maintained under the kettle. There was a well under a shade tree near by, and, though F had no especial desire for water, the sight of the cool old well and the dripping bucket on the moss-green stone about the top made me want to try the water, any- way, so I pulled my horse up at the side gate and hailed the maiden. “How d’y’,” she nodded, and kept on stirring the apple butter. “Exeuse me,” I said, a drink of water here?” “Not out thar whar you air,” she snick- ered, “but you kin over thar at the well.” She kept on stirring the butter, and 1 looked at her in surprise, for, asa rule, the greatest lady in the mountains wili bring a stranger at the gate a cup of cold water. “Will I have to get off my horse and come after it?” I inquired. “Ef you'd ruther,” she snickered again, still stirring the apple butter, “you kin ride around to the bars and come in on yer critter.” She kept on stirring the apple butter and I got down, hitched my horse to the palings and came in to the well. Taking a good, long drink, I came over to see the stirring. “Excuse me,” I said to the maid, “but are you so busy as al! that?” “I ain't playin’, I reckon,” she replfed with some asperity. “I presume,” I said teasingly, “that if, instead of an old codger like myself, some of these young mountain lads had’ asked you for a drink of water you wouldn’t have been so busy stirring your apple butter that you couldn't have taken $t to him.” She jabbed suddenly with the stirrer ;nd made the butter bubbles fly up in little steam puffs as she gave the whole mass a whirl and saved it from scorehing, and then resumed her steady stirring. “Huh,” she sniffed, “no, I woutdn't. neither. I reckon you don't know nothin’ aaout makin’ appie butter. Kf 1 wuz io let this yer stirrin’ stop fer a minute, the butter’d burn to the kittle and spile the whole kittleful, and thar ain't a moun- taineer frum the headwarters uv the North Fork to the West Virginny line that I'd spile this yer kittle uv apple butter fer. Nary a one, and I ain't sayin’ thar’s a whole heap nowhars, stranger. ‘With which rather insinuating conclusion she made a lunge with the stirrer at a demonstration which might have devel- oped into a possible scorch, and I quietly got out to my horse and rode away, think- ing how different some women were. but could I get PHILANDER JOHNSON? Fair Exchange. Who laments the verdure vanished from the hillside and the field In the fall? Shall we cling to recollection and to melan- choly yield? Not at all. Let the violets and the datsies in the year’s procession pass. Let none in idle folly cry “‘alack!” nor yet, “alas!” When the celery is smiling on the table from the glass Crisp and tall. Why recall the morning jewels with their sparkle and their glow Which we've lost? And wail because the dew-drops which were gilstering long ago Turn to frost? The sight of glimmering globules as they drip into the pan, When the feast’s in preparation on an epi- curean plan Makes the blisses of the present fully worth to any man All they cost. And he who mourns the song-bird that was erstwhile perched so high On a twig, Deserves no recognition for his hypocritic sigh. He's a prig. For the bird which in the oven is reposing So serene, Adds a vastly greater share of picturesque- ness to the scene, And he’s infinitely sweeter and at smallest seventeen Times as big. * * * On a Large Scale. “I have heard some very romantic stories about your successes,” said the young wo- man as she looked out of the corners of her eyes and adjusted her mouth so as to make dimples. “Yes?” responded Senator Sorghum with a complacent smile. “It has been intimated to me that you haye made money out of politics, But, of course, one doesn’t have to believe every- thing one hears “Well, these silver people did so badly when they tried to make politics out of meney, I dunno’s a man would be to blame for turnin’ the experiment the other way around.” ‘And then another person told me that you got your very first start in life as a curbstone fakir.”” “That's Ubelou “I thought so.’ tely false. The way I got my first start was this. I had a farm left me which wasn’t good for anything else, so I got it surveyed and had maps printed and cpened up an office and sold the whole thing off in lots. I'm not a man of small enterprises. When I start out to do any- thing I do it with a will. As soon as I made up my mind to fake, I faked a whole town. I wouldn’t stop with a curbstone.” * ee Undeceived. The Arab in the Wild West Show remi- niscently remarked: “I never could understand why they left that stery out.” Which story is that?” “The one about Selim. They ought not to have ieft that out of the Arabian Nights. Selim was a very rich man. He had out- grown ordinary business and had invested his capital to great advantage. Finaily, he got so well-to-do that It was no longer nec- essary for him to run a place of his own. His sole ocenpation was to tell other pe>- ple that they must do thus and so or lose money. He became a great power in public affairs, notwithstanding the reform move- ments and citizens’ unions. But he was not satisfied. The news of Ali Babi's < ventures with the forty thieves had spread through the city, and he was anxious to meet the leader of the gang. According! one night, after serding for Ali Babi a threatening to put him in Jail if he did not a tell all he knew about the affair, he got his bicycle and his road book and started out into the country to find the lonely lair of the highwayman. As soon as he said ‘open sesame’ the captain opened the @oor and cordially invited him in to be robbed. “I’ve nothing with me,’ answered Selim, ‘except my bicycle, and that’s insured. I didn't call to see you professionally, any- how. It's just a friendly visit, to talk over business.” “He handed over his card, and as soon as he saw it the chief salaamed and said: “‘[ am indeed honored by this visit. Come in and sit down.’ “People of large enterprises Mke our own,’ said Selim, after he had seated him- self on a small keg of money, ‘ought to get together once in a while and talk things over. It does them gooc. Now, you've done well in your business,’ he went on, glancing around the cave. ve no doubt those chests are full of money, and you have enough jewelry to start a pawn shop. What I want to know now is, where did you set it?” “Well, there’s no use of mincing phrases. My gallant men and I sally out every now and then and take a mean advantage of a caravan,’ “Do you go out with them in person?’ “‘¥es. It braces up their courage.’ “But you take risks that way.’ ‘I do; but it’s necessary.’ “But haven't you yet devised » system by which you can tie ‘em up with bell purches and cash registers, and let them go out and rob, while you stay away some- where on your private yacht?” “No. I wouldn't think of such a thing.’ “ ‘Haven't you perfected some scheme by which you receive regular payments from people living in your neighbornood for pro- tection?” ss “ ‘Certainly not. We would regard that as contrary to the ethics of our professtn.” ““] suppose that when your men have re- ceived their shares of the booty you Fave a system of penalties and commissions by which you take the major portion of each allotment ard add it to-your owr? “ ‘No. That wouldn't be* fair.” “Selim looked at the chief contémp- tuously, and then arose to go. “Don’t tear yourself away,’ said the captain, affably. “I'm not tearing myself away. I'm glad to leave. I'm disappointed in-you. It shows how terribly a man may be overestimated in popular opinion. I took you for a first- class, high-toned, up-to-date robber! * Running No Risks. “No, sir,” said the elderly man who was ; “I quit that paper years ago.” But here's a piece in it you ought to | read.” urged his neighbor. } don't care. I'm particklar about my readin’ matter. An’ I ain't goin’ to take no chance; not even on a squint sidewise. I quit takin’ t Paper years ago, when it announced the defeat of a candidate I didn’t like. An’ I ain't forgive it yet.’ But it had to come out with the truth some time.” ebbe so. But there wa'n't no use o* such an indecent hurry. It migh have ken" on claimin’ fur three or four weeks just fur the sake of tts su’serib- ers’ feelin’s.” ir. 1, I'm ashamed of you. It's jes’ sr folks as you as is tyin’ the hands of ou poken opinion and bringin’ things to a pass where folks can’t hardly believe half they hear.” “That's ‘cause folks ain't got sense,” was the reply, with calm self-approval vik ought to do as I do an’ see to it that noth- in’ comes into the house that they didn’t fully believe beforehand.” * His Philosophy. Oh, de mule ts in de traces an’ he’ what he kin, An’ de white man day. De way dey seems to was'e dese precious moments is a sin, An’ you'll nebber kotch way. Dey looks down on yoh uncle an’ dey says he’s missed a heap, But he’s healthy an’ he’s happy an’ he's strong, ‘Cause dar ain’ no manages to keep A little while foh lazyin’ along. Oh, de greenbacks dey kin rustle while de silver dollars shine; But I's saterfy to sing my litt I doesn’ ax foh skessly nuffin’ life o” mine *Cep’ de privilege o° lazyin’ along. * doin’ eps a-workin’ all me doin’ dat time so busy but he song, in dis So it’s go it, Mistuh Whiteman it, Mistuh Mule; A-laborin’ on, de most dat you know how You's bof a-makin’ furrows might be keepin’ cool. De lines is in yoh field an’ on yoh brow. No matter if you's "bout de finest guesser Gat’s alive, When you guess a black man’s age, you guess it wrong. He is jes’ as young at sixty as he ts at twenty-five, "Cause he takes de time foh lazyin’ along. Dar’s de spepshy in de mansion dar’s co'n pone in de ash, An’ I's saterfy to sing my little song. I is lookin’ foh imployment, but I doesn’ et too brash, "Cause I's comf'able Je >-— AN IDYL OF THE HEART. Sometimes Lowe Argues According to Rules of Logic. Love is so beautiful. What chords of harmony stretch strong between two hearts that beat in rhythmic cadence to each other's time no human mind may comprehend, no human soul may fath- om, no human tongue may tell They are the infinite music of heaven, the songs of the angels. The Man and the Woman stood hand in | hand where the evening shadows fell and jthe fragrance of rose bloom filled the soft air about them. “I am so unworthy of almost in a whisper. “Nay, nay,” she pleaded, “it is 1; unworthy one. He put his arm about her shoulders ca- ressingly, defensively. All that I may offer you ts so little, d. Nay, not so,” she contended, laying her hands upon his arm and looking into his face. “All that you have is beautiful and good and sufficient. It is what no other is ~—it is yours. It is enough for me that it is yours; that you possess it makes it the best in the world to me; the treasure of all earthly treasures. Not you, dear; not you,” she coaxed, “but I am unworthy.” He touched her fair, white forehead with nis lips and smiled. “But you cannot be unworthy,” he said with mock gravity, yet it did not seem to her, “you are more than everything: 3 are the treasure of all earthly treasure you have said so yourself.” “Nay, nay,” she protested as if his words pained her. “But it is true,” he persisted. “Haye you id that whatever fs mine is all of these an’ it's go when you an’ lazyin’ along. you,” he said to her am the he things “Truly,” yet with ineffable love “And are you not mine, and she looked at him curious! nd trust. dear?” he aske: holding her close to heart. The color of the roses came out of the fragrance about them into her cheeks and face an’ neck and she laid her head on his breast and was silent. ape Black Sea a Poison. Frem the Philedelphia Record. The explorations of the Russian scientis' Andrussow, have established a very curious fact. The Black sea, which in some parts bas a depth of more than 6,500 feet, is poi- soned by sulphuretied hydrogen wherever the water is deeper than 1,200 feet. This ac- counts for the curious fact that there is ni organic life below that depth, excepting, perhaps, some bacteria of very low orde: impregnated with sulphur. The causes { this phenomenon are explained by the quic cutflow of the fresh water through the Bos- phorus, while salt water coming from the Mediterranean enters through a deeper cur- rent into the depths of the Black sea. Th waters on the surface are, therefore, con- trolled absolutely by horizontal currents of considerable force, and vertical currents which might carry the noxious gases from the bottom to the surface and fresh oxygen from the surface to the bottom are hardly ever noticeable. The water at great depths is now so saturated with sulphuric gas by the disintegration of organic matter sinking to the bottom by reason of its weight that no fish or other living being, which needs oxygen for its organic system, can exist be- yond a stated depth. ~ i. oo Flooring Made of Paper. From the Philadelphia Record. The newest floor is of paper and is of Ger- man importation. The paper is imported in a dusty, powdery form, and is then mixed with a kind of cement which gives substance to the impalpable stuff and a plaster-like appearance. It is said that when the floor is laid the absence of joints and seams like those of the hard-wood floors is a distinct improvement, and without the inconvenience of catching dirt. The paste of which the floor is composed is laid on and then rolled out with a heavy roller, specialy adapted for that purpose, something like a sireet rolier for asphalt. The floor, when smooth, hard and dry, is cither stained or painted to maich or contrasi with the woodwork of the room. One Objection. From Puck. McLubberty—"Ol'd Joike to take a trip around athe worruld.” a McLubberty—“Stagg thot wud be foine!” McLubberty—“Yis:; bug @@mk av dthe cost av gittin’ home ag’in ——_+oe Thousands of situationg have been ob- tained through the want columns of Thy sitting om a truck at e small railway sta- | Star.