Evening Star Newspaper, March 31, 1900, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 31, 1900-26 PAGES, meeting that wheels of the frequently the cabinet shits It every s and we revolve. government 2 at there is not much official busi- importance to consider and then matters are inte gly talked of » President and his advisers. Every member of the cabinet Hkes a joke, and times each man has a good story to these was told the other day, Long being credited with the One ry narrative. The story ts he American azilian cat Charies Page Bryan, min: to Brazil, and a Th not a more affable or irteous man in the government serv- fice than Mr. Bryan. One day Mr. Bryan was at the home of a Brazilian official, and about ter a noking Brazilian cat e ion of it. The Brazilian turned it over to Mr. assurance that it gave pleasure to present it to a per- h est Mr. Bryan » much sent to his hou: there was a change of the domestic and an awful nuisanc J the nagerie. The all was that he did mean things i furniture, i kept Mr. was de! for the up and geodetic sur- put in at Rio | oiticers calied er of the ves- Mr. Br: St pleasur » the cat Was i ted on t yup | days was all th thfinder worst nui- noW What to do ‘Sat they found a The officers The naval red its ¢ ” have t part from s the = saw that held a ntative Mr. when | who was a famous He was a drum- ivil war after t he captain's drum | ure, T commenced had been I noticed of adul itd. down and er shaking 2 liked my the tim: xe * * * eople who were amused in the days ni, t at economist’s sugges: ad of flowers might s around the public ware that Uncle of spring delicacies ~ The first m are found wuthern slope of the lawn, terrace and ex- ms have begun me old women > secrets of the Dg hrooms dandelions, n this broad source of supp f ms aimost from the until winter comes snow disappears ke * * The death of e Sawyer brings to mind a ste m by a friend of his in Was as a very gener- of presents, which ry would have 2 inate charity, though the much the same. He told he was going to nd try to keep his t that would not Three months af- 1 this resolution his ad made out. 3 he replied, old friend of had struck hard I think I should * * eK * Tred from the Tillman cross swords in ere is any hosti be- They are personally the best and are 1 quite intimate, = in the other much to admire. sts with t rolina se his att on toward and ever and Tillman as- cion than nan is able to use he does his was writing a while at the paying more or less attention to doing fn the chamber. Some Little Moritz’s sketch of the lteutenant’s ef her father—Fliegende Blatter. another | § | idly one addressing him said, “Senator, I did not know you were ambidextrous.” “Yi he replied, “I have to be every sort of thing to keep the run of this Sen- x ee KK There is now a secretary to the Senate who knows how to read. The Senate has clerks employed especially to read from the desk, but it is the privilege and per- haps at times the duty of.the secretary of the Senate himself to do the reading. The former secretary, under the democrats, un- dertook to perform this duty and persisted in it to the exclusion of the reading clerks, until he had so excited the impatience of senators that one of them suggested to him in rather an emphatic manner that he hat better let some one read who knew how. After this experience it was with a feeling of apprehension that senators saw the new secretary, Mr. Bennett, mount the desk to read. But to the surprise and relief of every one it was discovered that he was net only capable of the difficult task of making himself heard and understood tn the Senate, but that he was one of the best readers that has appeared at the desk for many years. His voice is better and hi: le superior to that of any of the profes- nal reading clerks. Usually the reading from the desk of a paper as a part of a sen- ator’s speech takes all the force out of It, and mars the effect of the speech, but Ben nett, who, when a member of the House w looked upon as rather ornamental, shows a talent for reading which enables him to throw all the force and empha: into a document or letter read from the desk that belongs to the speech of which it is a part. He will probably be kept busy for the rest of his term. Se SS MAPLE SUGAR. This is the Season of the Year When It is Made. “The maple sugar crop is now being har- ted up in the woods of New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut, New York, Penn- Yivania and wherever there are maple said a large wholesale dealer in the trees," sweet commodity in New York to a writer for The tle late, only be Star. “This year the crop ts a lit- and the indications are that it will an average one of about 20,000,000 as tiousands of the fines the two gre: sugar-producing of Vermont and New Hampshire st summer either killed or so badly of visiting caterpillars er yield sap in abundance tial failure of this season's crop in nd will put up the price of the 4) cents per pound, which ce over la: pound. ng the sap and mak- dious and expen: ration ere it not for the fa sugar on comes a time when rm work is not ing. pure ma- ple sirup and sugar cou: not be sold nt prices. The way in which the ained from the trees and by which it is converted in as follow The tree re maple sugar to 1 will be an year of from on the of colle sugar Is a nd the ing ve that the near apped briefiy vith a half-inch augur bit The hole is bored feet above the root and slants ne grour One end of a spile, made of a bra of sumach, nine ches long, is then fitted i nugur hole in the tree and th ts on running sap. th sap it the con- pan or r Inches high. of the boiler little faucet, and in order that the flow toward this tap the pan is -d on stones in a sloping position. When the boiler has been filled half full with sap a fire is started. The sap soon begins to boil and more !s poured in as the Water evaporates. Presently the fluid in the pan changes from the color of water to a brown that grows darker. At this stage a kettle is placed under the faucet in the pan and the sirup is run off for the ng-off boil. More sap Is put into the pan, a hotter fire is made and th> boiling begins again. > sugar camp, emptied into a huge er four feet wide and fe At one end of the lower edg. a The sirup now thickens rap- until it_can no longer be run off or dipped up. Then the pan is swung off the fire by means of a chain and a thirty-foot sapling, and, when the sugar has been siven sufficient tim? to cool, It is turned out of .ue pan and is ready for the market. “Tt ts the popular belief that pure maple sugar is invariably known by {ts dark, damp looking appearance. In the old days of maple sugar making the product was necessarily dark, because the simple pre t in could not make it Eght. But it was full of impurities all the same. No adulterations, but natural im- purities. Nowadays it is not the dark ma- pie sugar that should be regarded as the bure article, for it is more apt to be the : The very choicest r that comes from ‘mont is of a light, clear, dry, glossy brown » very light indeed that it looks like clar- ified beeswax.” ————— A Lexson in Rudeness. “Wemen should not complain that they have to stand in street cars and other pub- Me conveyances,” sald an old gentleman Tuesday, as he laboriously made his way from the transfer man to the herdic. “Children learn common politeness at home, if they learn it at all. On the car that i just left was a handsomely dressed woman and her son, a fine-looking boy of ten. The was crowded when I got on, and the little man and his mother sat ‘near the door. As soon as I entered the boy made a motion to get up, but his mother held him down. “Mamma, the man is lame,” I heard him whisper. “I don’t care if he is. You have paid for your seat and have a right to it,” she answered him pettishly. The little fellow actually blushed at hfs mother’s mark that woman will probably jot act to the next man who re- from giving her a seat In a crowded but what can she expect, when she teaches her own son to be discourteous to the lame and the hal —_+—_ To Extinguish a Lamp. If the following simple rules should be observed by those who use oil lamps, the newspapers would not so often publish ac- counts of death or accident resulting from “blowing down the chimney” In the effort to extinguish the flames: Turn down the flame of the lamp as low as may be convenient, then place on top of the chimney a piece of cardboard. a small beok, or any object that will effectually close the draft—a pocket handkerchief held on top of ihe chimney will answer excel- lently. In a moment the flame will grow paler and die out completely. There can be no danger whatever in this method. The reason why the flame expires fs the oxygen immediately surrounding the flame is soon consumed, and the vent at the top of the chimney being closed, the carbonic acid cennot escape In that way, and so remains around the flame, thus preventing a fresh supply of oxygen from reaching !t and sup- perting the combustion, when the flame necessarily goes out of existence. maple or else- visit to sister Amelia-during the absence HOW HE MET HIS WIFE A newspaper man of this town who has to work o’ nights took his wife to the Co- lumbia Theater on Monday night last, and left her there, saying that he'd be back by the time the show was over to take her heme. ‘Then he went to his office, took off his coat and cuffs, and sat down to write two columns to his string of western news- papers (republican) about the good inten- tions of Congress with respect to Porto Rico, dwelling with particular emphasis upon how the whole people would rise up and love the Porto Rican tariff when once they understood it, etc., etc. Along toward 10 o'clock he suddenly re- membered that he had a wife, and then he rubbed his weary eyes and wondered if ue didn't have an appointment to take here somewhere or other, or fetch her back from somewhere or other, or something like that. Then it gradually dawned upon him that not only did he have a wife, but that she was at the Columbia Theater, and that he would soon be due to go after her and escort her home. He looked at his watch. The dial read 10 o'clock. “Plenty of time,” he muttered to himself, and then he wrote a letter to a managing editor out west, giving his personally-con- ducted view that a certain great political party was making a Jay of itself. When he had finished this he looked at his watch again. Still 10 o'clock. “Derned watch has stopped,” sald the newspaper man to himself, ‘but it’s not more’n a quarter after ten, and I've got plenty of time.”" Then he put on his cuffs and coat leis- urely, and started for the theater. He stopped at a brother newspaper man’s of- fice on his way to tell him (his brother newspaper man) what drivel he (his brother newspaper man) had been writing for his (his brother newspaper man’s) string of papers of late. Then he slowly and thoughtfully wended his way in the dtrec- tion of the theater. He could see when he was still a block away that he was in plen- ty of time, for there was nobody about the theater entrance. He had seen the show in New York, and so he pulled out a cigar and started a smoke, standing In front of the theater. He noticed that there weren't any carriages about the theater, and this struck his as odd. “I guess the vile eather’s told on Dan- jels’ opening night,” said he to himself. “Only crazy people 'ud come out on a night like this, not saying any hard things about the wife of my bosom. Then he went on smoking his cigar and looking up and down the dark, quiet street. “It must be a poor house inside for fair, though,” he mused, after peering through the theater's storm doors and noticing the deserted lobby. “I can remember when Frank Daniels used to get all the money in this town, weather or no weather, Ty time he came along with his bum ug hat and frazzled cigar and puggy lit- tle humorous mug. Wonder if Frank's losing his grip around this neighborhood? Shculd think there ‘ud have been enough people bought seats In advance last week before they knew what the weather was soing to be to've made a better showing than this. Oh, well, it’s the same with all slage fay. little I suppose—they have their and then they begin to flicker, finally people can’t be dragged to see ‘em cavort, not by wild horses.’ Whereupon he fell to musing of all the celebrated theatrical stars he'd seen rise and and it ail seemed mighty dismal musing. He pulled his overcoat about him and buttoned it, and tugged impatiently at his cigar. this is about as raw a night microbe "ud care to be abroad on,” he said. shiveringly. “By jing, I wish the dern old show “ud wind up and let my wife out. There are a whole lot worse places than bed on a night like thi: Then he took another peek through the storm doors opening into the lobby. “Well, this must be a frosty night for the little man with the sawed-off shape,” he mutte: “Looks Ike a morgue inside there. Wonder how Dantecis likes to get the cold storage this way? I'll bet it makes him sore. Funny I don't hear any wild, vociferous applause out here, too. I didn't think the Washington folks ‘ud give Daniels the frozen face like this, honest I didn't. Why, there can't be. more than eighteen people in the house, judging by the deadly solitude that seems to reign around here, and—" Just then a smooth-faced man with a cl- ar in his face emerged from the box office inside, locked the door, and strolled out of the lobby. It was Mr. Joscph Luckett, the manager of the Columbia. Hello, Jo," said the newspaper man. ‘See they've ed you the frapped miit tonigh sa grip pa , hello there, pal,”” said Mr. Luckett. “Been inside?” Nop,” said the newspaper man. the show over in the big town. Just for my wife. Pretty tiny house, eh “Tiny?” said Mr. Luckett. “We stood 'em on thelr heads In the aisles. Played to ca- pacity and several hundred over." “That's funny,” said the newspaper man. “Pretty funereal around here for such a huge conclave, isn't it?" “My boy,” said Mr. Luckett, going over to the newspaper man and laying his hand af- fectionately on his shoulder, “go home and see if you can't sleep it off by tomorrow morning. It's after midnight, and the show's been over for about an hour and a half.” “Saw alting: es A TERRIBLE DEPRIVATION. What One Young Woman Has Denied Herself During Lent. They were looking at Easter cards, both of them elegantly gowned and up to date in every accessory of their attire. “What did you give up during Lent this year, Mary?" asked she of the gray cloth and violet velvet jacket, with hat to match. “Gloves,” was “Mary’: quick response. “You know I am fearfully extravagant when it comes to gloves. I am positively unhappy when I have the tiniest speck on my gloves, and I simply adore white one so I said to myself: ‘Now, Mary Blythe, you can torment your soul by refraining from buying gloves just as much as you could your body by wearing haircloth,’ so my self-denial has been a real one, you see. I am glad that the time of trial !s nearly at an end. I am afraid I could not stand the test much longer.” “But, Mary,” began she of the gray dress and violet velvet, as she took in her friend, who was faultlessly gowned In purple cloth and whose glov were immaculate, don’t see Low you keep your gloves looking so well. Certainly those you have on are perfectly fresh, and you have not worn a soiled pair, that I can remember.” “That's just it,’ ary replied, with a sigh of resignation. “I told you I could not hold out much longer, for this is my last pair of fresh gloves. IT made up my mind early In the winter that IT would not buy a pair of gloves during Lent, so I just laid in a good supply, thinking to make them last ull Easter, but I've used them so fast!" —__._ Mauser Bullet Wounds. From the British Medical Journal. One is struck with the rapld way in which the wounded have convalesced. All except about half a dozen are up and about, with wounds completely healed, and in only very few cases have the wounds become septic. This, while partly due to the style of weapon used, at the same time speaks volumes for the excellence of the arrangements on the field. All are Mauser bullet wounds except two. One of these is a superficial wound of the hand inflicted by a shell splinter, and the other a Mar- tint wound, the bullet having passed be- tween the radius and ulna without appar. ently having damaged either bone. It had healed wel! All the men agree as to the very small amount of shock produced by the Mauser bullets, many stating that they went on some distance after feeling they were hit, one man telling me that he did not notice being hit at all until he began to feel dizzy and found that he had lost a ‘ot of blood. One notable circumstance ts that the vast majority of the wounds are in the extremities. This the men attribute to the wild firing of the Boers, and to the fact that thay were generally hit just at the moment of leaving or taking cover. One wound had its aperture of entrance just on the inner side of the lower third of the right thigh and its aperture of exit in the right buttock. Probably this was due to the man having been climbing a steep bit of rock at the time. Apparently the bone was not injured, but it is notable that the injuries involving bone are just as aseptic as the rest. I saw one case of a perforating Mauser wound on the chest. The entrance was about the second inter. space, and the exit just to the inner side of the angle of the capula. It had com- pletely healed without haemoptysis or any other bad symptom.” ———_ eo The fastest flowing river in the world is the Sutilej, in India. I feet in 180 mien 2 aed MR. JOBSON. GETS SICK Mr. Jobson Iked tery solemn and re- signed when he got..home from his office about three hours ahead of his usual time the other day. ‘Mrs. Jobson met him at the door with an expression of alarm. “Why,” she inquire, anxiously, the—' z Mr. Jobson smiled sadly as he interrupted her. fo - 3c “Don’t you bother, Iittle woman,” said he, in a weak, far-away, Voice, and then Mrs. Jobson felt sure that something dreadful alled him—he hadn't called her “little wo- man” for years: “Don’t you worry at all. And don’t come'too elése to me, either. I've got typhoid fever, that's all, and I guess my race is about rua.” , “What in the world makes you—” “Now, kindly refrain from giving way to any expressions of alarm,” cut in Mr. Job- son, with a wan smile. “I've felt it coming on me for some time past, but I haven't said anything about it, because I didn’t feel Hke worrying you. I've always been afraid of typhoid, which 1s perhaps the reason why fate has been so ironical as to hand me out my dose of it. I've got all the symptoms—had "em for some time, but now it's @ case of go to bed and stay, I guess, With me. I’m so weak that—" Mrs. Jobson had him bundled up in bed in dig time, with a hot water bag applied to him (N.B.—What ailment in life, up to ighted affections, does not the modern wo- man use the hot water bag for?) and a toddy steaming over the spirit lamp, and the servant girl post-haste out the alley gate for the doctor. Mr. Jobson took it all with an angelic smile of gentle reprobation. “It's all no use,” he said, still in that thin, far-away tone. “Of course, it’s good of you, my dear, to set about in an endeavor to pull me through, but I've a feeling that I ave about reached the end of my tether. Now, never mind weeping"—Mrs. Jobson had her handkerchief, done up in a little wad, at the corners of her eyes—“for it had to come some time, you know—it had to come some time,” repeated Mr. Jobson, in a voice that seemed to demand the accom- paniment of slow, tremolo music on the E string near the bridge of the violin. “When the typhoid gets you, you know, the chances are about five to one against your ever liv- ing through it, and there isn’t a doubt in life that I've got typhoid fever. I've—" “But your head doesn't fecl warm,” said Mrs. Jobson, anxiously pressing her palm ainst his forehe: ‘Perhaps not yet," said Mr. Jobson, “but be in a raging fever before the night fever comes later. I've got ‘what is ri is over. The all the preliminary symptoms—dull pain in the back of the head, shivery feeling along the spine, no appetite, lassitude, all-gone feeling in general, and finally a strong pre- ntiment that this all marks the end of my . Ive looked the subject up in a book attempting to make any other diagno: my case. Now, before I lapse into uncon- sciousness, my dear—you know people with typhoid become delirious when the fever gets a good hold on them—I've got a few little things to say and some little direc tic ee nything happens to said “in anything happens to me an exceedingly affecting, ulchral way—“and I might as well dis- pose of these matters now.” “But don't you think it would be as we'l to wait to see what the doctor says? He might— My dear, this presentiment I have is stronger than any superficial words of any mere doctor could possibly be,” said Mr. Jobson dismally. ‘kb know that I'm dished time, and that Em not going to get this. Whatever the doctor s. ys won't change me in my belief a little bit.” Here Mr. Jobson paused and took Mrs. Jobson’s hand and squeezed it. I hope you gvon'tvalways think of me mply as of a®eranky old pest,” he sald, with a shadowy, spiritual smile. “I know I've jawed around and kicked and com- plained and raised Ned without any occa- sion a good many times, and I guess you've had a pretty hard time of it humoring me, Hitle girl.”” Here Mrs. Jobggn began to sob quite con- vulsively, and #he tried to deny his self- accusations. “Oh, there's n@.denying it all—I know it,” aid Mr. Jobsom&. “Now that I'm about ready to make my peace in this world, I can Clearly see that for a good many years past I've been the crankiest and hardest to-get-along-with: old ‘nufsance in the Dis. trict of Columiia or anywhere else, but I'm square enough to own up to it all, anyhow, now that my end approaches, and that's something. But I hope you won't hold it all against me after—after—well, when I am no longer here. ‘There are a lot of litte ways in which I know now I might have made your life happler, but all of us poor mortals are more or less blind, and it is too late now Here Mr. Jobson studied the cefling sadly for a space, while Mrs. Jobson walked to the window and wondered if the doctor uld never come. I've said a lot of thing in anger that I feel now as if | should have cut my tongue out before saying,” went on Mr. Jobson, folding his hands over the bed coverings and looking preternaturally peaceful, “and I've let the million and one little kind things you've done for me all these years go unnoticed and unspoken of. But never mind. I’ve always meant well, and I can only hope that you'll remember, in the after years, whatever few little good traits I may have possessed, instead of dwelling in your thoughts upon-my meanness to you.” Job on, Mean?" began Mrs. Jobson, sobbingly. “Who ever said you were— But Mr. Jobson waved aside with a movement of his right arm whatever she intended to say. The time is short, I fear, my dear,” he said, “and there are a number of matters I ought to speak of. I think I will leave uu pretty fairly provided for. Of course, everything I have goes to you. The life insurance is all paid up, and my affairs are in good shape. As T say, I've felt this ty- phoid coming over me for some time past, and I've been straightening out my af- fairs during the past week or so. No there’s one thing I want to say. You're still a comparatively young and handsome woman—no, no, no, don’t interrupt me— and I'm not such a mean proposition as to ask you to promise me that you'll never marry again. I think that a man who'd make his wife promise that ‘ud steal sheep. You won’t want for admirers, little wo- man, and nothing ‘ud please me better than to have you pick out some square, upright man—not a pesky old crank like me—who'd take care of you and give you a much better home than I've ever been able to provide for you, and marry him. Of course, it would be weil for you to, walt a proper length of time after my—" Just then there was a loud ring at the front door bell, and Mrs. Jobson hurried downstairs, with her handkerchief still at her eyes. ‘Merey on us!" exclaimed the old family physician, bustling in, “what’s all this? Jobson on the point of dissolution again, eh? Come, come, come, this won't do! Where is the man? T'll just look him over and have him playing hop-scotch with the boys out in front by tomorrow morning.” “How are you, doc?” said Mr. Jobson, when the physician entered the room. “I guess I’m a little beyond you this time— typhoid, beyond & doubt, as you'll see in a minute. I've toff the‘little woman about it, so that you Won't’ have the bother of breaking it to hér. Now, I'd like to have you tell me, as nearly as you can, how long I've got tot" “Tush, tush! Tet rie see your tongue, said the fid medical man, and then he produced his’ littie thermometer and rapped Mr. Jobson over the heart and put his ear to Mr Jobsor’s*chest, and did all kinds of things Secullar to medical men to Mr. Jobson. Then he, leaned back in his chair, unfolded pis features and his voico, and emitted one long, loud laugh, which caused Mr. Jobsth to #t up in bed with an expression of wrath onmhis face, he inquired, “d’ye think this kind o’ thing’s exactly. fitting in the chamber of a man who's about to-pass in his——” “Tut, tut,” said thé old doctor, holding his sides. “Yow've a diminutive, micro- scopic touch of the grip, man, and by to- morrow morning, if fyou take what I'll leave here for you, you'll be as right as a trivet and as militant as ever.” Mr. Jobson turned over on his side, sulki- ly, and looked at the wall. When Mrs. Job- son tiptoed in ten minutes later, after let- ting the doctor out, she found him sound asleep, and he’ slept right on until morn- ing, when he got up. dressed and ate three lamb chops and eight buckwheat cakes and drank two and a half cups of coffee. “By jing,” said he, with a sheepish look at Mrs. Jobson, when he was half through breakfast, “that old doctor of ours Is a wonder, isn’t he? Grip, eh? By the way, I was a bit off my head when I came home yesterday afternoon, wasn’t I—sort o” de- lirious? I vagucly remember saying some things that were sort o’ woozy and mushy and—" “Oh, I was too worried about you to really hear what you sald,” replied Mrs, Jobson, mentally praying for forgiveness, THAT ARTILLERY PUNCH “A well-known Washingtonfan and I have had the same kind of hard luck during the past couple of months, it seems—that is to say, we've both been artillery punched,” said a member of the Gridiron Club who accompanied that organization on its recent excursion to Charleston. “When I read the report of how that other famous man was bowled over by a small portion of the contents of a bowl of Savannah- made artillery punch my compassion was moved. I got mine some time before he did, and in a different town, and there were no reports about it in the Associated Press service; but artillery punch fs artil- lery punch at any old place and time, and I've got real money to bet with any man that gets up in his seat and expresses his belief that my dose of artillery punch didn’t throw me just as hard and make me feel just as bad as his did him. “Highteen minutes after I'd made my in- ternal mechanism into an overcoat for three fair-sized hooters of artillery punch I found myself in some strange room that I'd never been in or seen before in my life, ané I was making faces at myself in a looking glass. I wanted some broken bottles to chew and some sulphur to burn. I was a real devil, for fair, and there didn’t seem to be any- thing on earth or irf the waters beneath the earth that was too onnery for me to do. I've got an indistinct recollection of hank- ering to break little girls’ dolls, and I know I picked several quarrels with aged men that I happened to run into. When I got down to the dock and saw a skiff tied up by a cotton warehouse I tried to seize the same, with the idea of taking to the Spanish main, so’s I could have blurd, and lots of it, and run up the Jolly Roger and make !m- ploring women walk the plank, and enjoy myself that way. Somebody .seized me, I think, as I was in the act of hurling two half-bricks into the front windows of a superannuated widow's home, and when I saw some darkey cotton packers lying asleep on a wharf I had to hang on to my- self right hard to keep from rolling a barrel of vitriol on them and then chucking ‘em into the deep blue sea. If I didn’t do any or all of these things I vaguely remembered having done ‘em, anyhow, which doesn’t make the case out any better for artillery punch. “This humor was succeeded by a feeling of profound benevolence on my part, [ faintly recall. I couldn't see any particu- lar reason why I should have a watch and chain and money on my person when I saw lots of persons on the streets of Charleston who didn’t seem to own automobiles, and I ineffectually endeavored to induce numer- ous late wayfarers to put me under lasting obligations by accepting everything I had. even unto the half of me kingdom. T met a fireman belonging to a night shift who was togged out in a suit of blue overalls, and it struck me as a howling outrage that this man should be thus clad, and on his way to attend to a toilsome all-night job, while I was walking around full of artiliery Punch and beatitude. I argued long and earnestly with that man in the endeavor to induce him to change clothing, as well as positions in life, with me, but he couldn't see it, and he smiled me on my benevolent path. When I got to my hotel and tained, upon engaging the night c ork conversation, that he had four little chil- in He should vith to buy dren, my mind was made up. have all the money I had where them ginger snaps and jujube paste, or Pd know the reason why. So I pulled out my vad, planted it on the desk in front of him and then bolted for it, for I wanted to be sure t he wouldn't hand it back to me. He collared me before I got upstairs to my room, however, and amiably forced my vealth back upon me, for which I told him roachfully that he need never regard himself as a friend of mine in any sense whatsoever. Then I got into my room, carefully raised my umbrella over the bed in case of rain, and dreamed that I was an overgrown cigarette and that sdme_pin- head was trying to light the end of my head. And mentioning the word ‘head’ brings me along to the next morning. Oh, well, I guess I'll pass that, There ar ine things in this life that are too uns ‘bly hor- rific and grisly to be dwelt upon, and so I won't say anything about that artillery punch next-morning head; it suffices to say that {t was a flamingo bird from beak to tall feathers, and when I finally regained consciousness and saw ‘em all anxiously bending over me, I concluded that in the future artillery punch could get along with- out me. “I cannot close this brief account, how- ever, without setting forth this little addi- tional fact: I was not the only one.” THERE WAS NO COMPULSION. He Had a Very Good Reason for Not Going Into the House. ‘The man was sitting on the front steps of his house at 3 o'clock in the morning as the policeman came by and noticed him. “Hello,” exclaimed the startled guardian of the peace, “what are you doing there?” and he drew near cautiously. “Sitting here,” responded the man, “What are you sitting there for?” “It’s my house and I guess I've got a right to, haven't I?” “Oh, excuse me,” apologized the police- man, coming closer; “I didn’t recognize you. the matter? Lost your night key?” » very curtly. ‘Forgot it when you came out?” “No.” “Afraid of disturbing somebody that’s sick uu knock ?"* No." ‘Waiting for ventured the the milkman, perhaps?” policeman, taking another shorter than ever. t to get in early to breakfast, per- “Sitting here to get cool before going to bed, likely?" and the policeman chuckled, for the thermometer marked considerably below freezing. “Are you——” began the policeman, when n interrupted him. he said, “do I have to reveal to sacred secrets of my houschold?” said the policeman, almost as short as the man had said it. “Do I have to communicate to you my do- mestic infelicities?” “Do I have to tell you that my wife is waiting at the head of the stairs In there for me?" “No.” “Do I have to inform you that she has declared war?” “No,” stammered the astonished police- man. “Well, then,” commanded the man, go on away from here and attend to your own business. I'll sit here till the middle of next week if I want to,” and the police- man, thoroughly abashed, apologized to the man and went on around the corner. —$—_—_—_— Marriage and Reformation. From the Detroit, Mich., Journal. “He's a bigamist,’’ we urged. “I shall marry him to reform him,” re- plied the girl steadfastly. Here we burst into derisive laughter. “Reform a bigamist by marrying him!” we exclaimed. “A bigamist is as likely to be reformed that way as anybody!” said the girl, with quiet dignity. Ah, perhaps she was right, after all. ————+e-+ Commissionaire—"Would you like a four- wheeler or a ’ansom, sir?” Convivial Party (indistinctly)—“Ver mush oblige—but—reely don’t think I could take "ny more!”—Punch, WITH FLY OR BAIT Well-Known Statesmen Who Are Disciples of Izaak Walton. SENATORS WHO HANDLE THE ROD Nothing but the Speckled Trout Will Do for Mr. Frye. REPRESENTATIVES WHO FISH —___.+—____ Written for The Evening Star. As the trout and bass season draws near there is talk of fish around the Capitol lob- bies and in the cloak rooms. It will not be long, now, before every week will bring its quota of congressional fish lies. During the long sessions of Congress, when the na- tional legislature sits through the spring and far into the summer, fishing trips are much resorted to by the solons as means of recreation, pending the time when they can get away upon their vacations. There are more game fish within a few hours’ ride of Washington, probably, than any other large city in the east. Two hours’ run in a parlor car brings one to the home of the vicious, courageous, small-mouth black bass of the Shenandoah and the Po- tomac. Where the blue waters of the fa- mous Virginia stream force their way around the mountain's base and mingie with the Potemac is the beginning of twice a hundred miles of noble fishing. There are deep pools and shallows; smiling stretches of still water and tumbling acres of edd and whirlpool, beset with boulders and iu teeming with bass. The bass of the Poto- mac and the Shenandoah are as crafty, as Mr. Frye Takes to the Woods. lively and as gamey fish as a man could vis to toy with. A pound-and-a-half bass in these waters at the end of 1) yards of silk line on a wisp of a split bamboo rod will make you think you are fighting a wildcat. Four Eminent Fishermen. The “Big Four’ among congressional fishermen are Senator Frye of Maine, the president pro tempore of the Senate; tor Davis of Minnesota, Senator Gear of Iowa and Senator Quay of Pennsylvania. What they don’t know about fishing is not worth learning, and what they have not told about fishing is not worth hearing. Of course, each one thinks his particular kind of fishing is superior to all others, and is loyal to his native streams, but all will go far afleld in search of sport. Senator Frye is probably the most con- sistent sportsman of the quartet. He goes into camp in the Maine woods every sum- mer, wears a flannel shirt, eats bacon and is glad to get it, and lives the life of a Woodsman. Of course, he comes back to Washington all the better for it. He can cast a fly with the best of them. He often slips up the river during the sessions of Congress and takes a try for some of the dainty, small-mouth bass before mentioned. Presiding over the Senate of the United States, he is the soul of dignity. Seated in the stern of a big batteau, rod in hand, an old straw hat on his head and contentment on his face, he looks another man, and then he is doubtless happiest. A Skillful Fisherman. Senator Cushman K. Davis of Minnesota is an ardent angler. Let anybody suggest a fishing trip and he will drop his cares as a school boy drops his books to go a-swim- ming. Treaties and conventions are fér- gotten by the honored head of the com- mittee on foreign relations, for the time, Mr. Davis on His Vacation. and he is all impatience to wet a line. Sen- ator Davis is as skillful as he is earnest, when fishing. He has had great experience in the lakes of Minnesota, which abound in game fish. Whether it is the agile trout which rises to a fly, or the big pickerel that takes a bait on a troll, it is all one to him, and every famous fishing water in his state abounds with legends of his skill. He is not especially approachable in his official capacity, but he is another being in camp and the old boatmen address him with impunity as “Cush.” A man is a fool who wears a robe of dignity when he goes fishing. He will trip up in it, sure. Senator Quay of Pennsylvania is addicted to deep sea fishing. The habit of angling, contracted in the trout streams of Pennsyl- vania, has grown upon him to such an ex- tent that ordinary sport does not gatisfy A Mighty Tarpon Fisher. his craving any longer. He needs must travel all the way to Florida and spend days seeking the fierce tarpon. He has a charming little hunting lodge on the Flor- ida coast, and whenever he finds the cares of statesmanship or politics oppressing him he takes train and is away for a week or two of sport. It is a fearful and wonderful sight to see the doughty senator from the keystone state standing braced In the boat, battling with an immense tarpon, and when he has landed his victim he wears the look of a conqueror at the close of a battle. When times are too busy to go to Florida he does not disdain to take a whirl with the bass of the country, and is ready any time for an outing. Senator Gear's Luck. Senator Gear of Iowa is known to every guide and boatman of the upper Potomac. In fact, there is one famous spot in the river called Gear’s Hole, after the Iowan. It is near an exclusive rod and gun club which the senator visits. One day he was being rowed up the river and had tried all the fishing holes with indifferent success. He directed the guide to row him to a cer- tain place-which he spied, and after sound- ing the water, observing the lay of the land, the character of the bottom and the drift of the current said there was good fishing there. The old gulde pooh-poohed the idea. No one had ever thought of fishing there. But the senator insisted on trying, and within an hour or two had caught thirty magnificent bass. So they called it “The question is Gear's Hole, and it is fished every day in settied.”— Bishop Potter in an the season when there are guests at the club house. There promises to be an expansion of the senatorial “Big Four” into a “Biz Five.” Senator Foraker of Ohio ts reach- ing out after some of the piscatorial lau- rels of his elders) He will have to do some active fishing to get in their class, but he bas been making some ¢ records in the past two years. He is fond of bass and trout and is enthusiastic upon the subject ©: the Potomac variety of bass. In the House of Representatives the chief of the fishing brizade is Representative Heatwole of Minnesota. He is a natural- born fisherman. He will sit in a boat for haif a day with never a “strike” and yet be happy. and, after all, that is the su- preme test of the fisherman. come a clicking of the re to pay out slowly: Mr. Bass has struck the minnow and is taking him away a yard or two before he turns and swallows him; then as he feels the hook and starts off the reel sings In earnest and the erst- while somnoient and dignified congressman is all attention for the battle royal which is to rage for the next ten minutes. Mr. Heatwole has fished for every Kind of game But let re the line begins Speaker Henderson Ang! fish that swarms sea, lake or river, and if any one should suggest a heaven without a bass stream, it would be no paradise for im. Representative Babcock of Wisconsin, chairman of the republican congressional campaign committee. wiil be too busy fish- ing for votes t ummer and fall to make his usual tour of the Wisconsin lakes. The records of his catches are scattered through every notable club book in Wisconsin. The muskalonge is his favorite. This denizen of the clear, cool lakes of the northwest seems to combine all the fighting qualities of every game fish that swims. You troll for him in a boat and when he strikes the hook he makes a bee line for the beat. ‘The game is to reel in so fast that h> does not get any slack line, for the moment he does he's gone. How the Speaker Angles. Speaker Henderson of the House of Rep- resentatives is a fisherman—aefter a fashion. The spirit is willing, but the flesh Is weak. H2 has the instinct, but hts wooden leg in- terferes, so he sits on the veranda of the club house all day, reading and smoking and taking in the glorious ozone of the mountains, chatting w old guides and boatmen, until * * as he calls the others of the parts -k in the evening with their strings, and then he is as much interested as any one. He wants to know how long this four-pounder fought, where that big fellow was picked up, and, alter supper, when the fish les are in ore der, he always has some stunner of his own younger days to match the best one told. Speaker Henderson is a great favorite with the country people around the fishing grounds and they all know him and come to s2e him when they hear he is on hand. “Uncle Joe” Cannon, the chairman of the Rain Bar'l Fisherman.” House committee on appropriations, is an- other “rain bar'l" fisherman, as the guides call the statesmen who stick to the club house verandas on hot days and let others blister in the sun, luring the wily bass. He is very fond of a fishing excursion and starts off with great enthusiasm, but the next morning, When the boat parties are made up, will find “Uncle Joe’ masing for a hammock at the br2ezy end of the veran- da with a handful of cigars and a book. A Photographic Fisherma “Mark" Smith of Arizona was one of the most noted fishermen while he remain- ed in Congress. He disdained to use any- thing but a fiy, and has whipped every mile of the Potomac that is fishable from Harper's Ferry to Cumberland. Last Con- gress he was left at home. He took a trip to California and went angling in the Pacific ocean for sea bass. He caught one weighing 375 pounds and had a photograph taken of himself and the fish, which he sent to Washington. The fish was several times larger than himself and was caught with a rod and reel. He sent word that he wanted to hear no more tales from the Congressional Fish Liars’ Association until some one could match his feat. They wrote back that he should have got the seiners to bring in a 700-pound sea bass to the photographer; It would be just as easy. That cruel fling broke his heart, and they have never heard from Mark Smith since. Of course, the king fisherman among statesmen of latter years was Grover Cleveland. When he was in the White House he went frequently to nearby fish- ing grounds after small-mouth black bass. Mr. Cleveland's favorite bait was a 3 ‘That fellow.” says Old Man Pettyjohn, up at Edwards’ Ferry, “could set on @ rock and cast a frog furd'er'n any man I ever seen.” He tells the story on the former Presi- dent that one day they were fishing in rocky water, and, not getting a strike for a long time, the President set about to investigate, when he found that his frog had calmly climbed on a rock and was sun- ning himself serenely, hook in mouth. The President's remarks upon that occasion were omitted. —___-e-—____ A Peacemaker. From Puck. First Citizen—“I say the century began on the first of January, nineteen hundred.” Second Citizen—“I say it begins on the first of January, nineteen hundred and one!” Third Citizen—“Say, why can't you com- promise this? Why not let it begin on the Fourth of July, nineteen hundred?” —— a Papa Was Probably Out. From Tit-Bits. He—“And did you see Monte Carlo while you were at Nice?” She—“‘No; papa called on him, I believe, but from his disappointed appearance when he returned to the hotel, I think Mr. Carlo must have been out.” ‘What the employer said: “Thank heaven, I've got rid of that nuisance at last. I had to give him hints enough, but it was no use, and finally I actually had to kick him out of the place.” What the paper said: “We hear that Mr Benson Harding has severed his connection with the Brownstone Improvement Come pany."—Boston Transcript. ——~+o+—___ “Halt!” From Harper's Weekly.