Evening Star Newspaper, May 5, 1900, Page 18

5, 1900-24 PAGES. ies of which little ts an important one, fs alth weture of lace curtains,” sald 2 dealer in such goods in > writer recentl Up to} ery pair of lace curtains y was imported from day there are a de large lace-making machines in the These machines represent invested capital of nearly $3,000,000, and turn out annually 4.300.000 pairs of curtains alued at $20,000,000. “The principal Ame States ean lace curtain mills at Tariffville, N. J.: Patchogue, Phitadelph' wir . Pa.; Columbia, Pa., rst mill was and Not: nit im he | Fordham. N. Y.. in 18S, and when the three lace-making machines of this pioneer pant were started the English expert> declared that only 2 grades ured ould be ma here on a climatic conditions and the lack of skilled labor. As a matter of fact, th Ee Hs are now s of lace mills are now penne s by which the First of ali, and thes y described, are made is ubmits several design when they can be sman. who, in turn. he gauge of the lace as to bring the and an has ns he may find ad with a | { ally if you haunt th and brooding mate. You ot song ‘or it is rings out of her ly t_trodde adows to nests until cut to knives of a mow- he power e at the wave und may be as bare is they manage this z of quail if the dog is pointing the grass is as si begins to take on her from that y he he} emble his fam t relatives Into a little c t t commu- ed hy on th —to get throug! hout being bro ng. Thus t to escape surpr: . minks, % . foxes, ar nemte n steal upon es ities who have the manage- Paris exposition In hand may or it, but there are good busi- for making the Midway Pls ure, and a leading feature,” esentatiy ob- of a western state happened that I anagement of the and while serving out lots of things re or even had things I found out, was that man, pecultar, not make any great difference er he is French, American or any be telling a tale ry of the t if it had not been the whole fair would hav truction and debt, invoiv e midway saved the fair, lots of a $ on the books e first two fair were terribly ty I know tr interested in {ts ulti 2 rit was make or bre 1 their money s of various ki, it w nally Ma. bee i medict country taking the e bing itself with @ liniment he was pro- mo was given full authority to pull the fair out of the hole and to adopt his own means to do the pulling. In less than a week he had invited a couple of dozen of the leading amusement managers, circus owners and the like to confer with him at Chicago on the subject of the fair, he pay- ing all the expenses of the conference. But he got all the big managers of the country together and put the proposition to them— that the fair managers were over their heads and saw no way to get out, and also the entire responsibility on them. They discussed the business for three days and unanimously deeided that the fair was but @ big show and that show rules applied to it and that the show features would have to be brought out somewhat stronger if the | taty own | ow in the nes } expected to pay. There was a mld- then, but ft was decided that it » enough drawing powers and did not that it should be increased ten to twenty fold; that for every hootchy-cootchy or other dancer, elephant, wild bear or mon- key that was to be found on the streets ‘of Cairo there should be at least ten more added and everything else in proportion, and that as far as possible everything should be run ‘wide open,’ to use a show term. It was decided that all the rest of fair should be allowed to take care of itself if it would, but forced if it would not, until a change came in the condition of things. for It seemed to be sure that as the reformation from a fair to a_show took place the thing would pay. The change did the work, for the midway won out. Of nurse. none of those concerned was boast- ful or proud of his work, but they had to io the best they could with a bad case. It so proved that showmen know more about running a show than did the proprietors and promoters of the fair. If the Paris exposi- tion ts to win out it will be a winner for the same reasons. The people—by these I mean, of course, the masses—go to it as a show, and their desires and expectations have to be catered to.” * * KKK “Patriotism in the army, I admit, several rs ago was at rather a low ebb, but there is no trouble about it now," ventured an army officer to a Star reporter. “From General Miles all the way down officers were alarmed about it, and wondered how to prevent the desertions which followed the absence of patriotism. At one time, 1895, desertions had increased up to nearly 5 per cent, though officially I do not think more than 19 per cent was ever acknowl- edged. The Spanish-American brush cured the disease more effectually and rap- than anything else could. One hour after the first sign of a war was noticed it was all cured. Patriotism is a visible thing in an army, and it can be seen as well as felt. One of the best ways to ob- serve it is to notice the respect that is given the flag. Time and time again at garrisons 1 posts I have seen the soldiers after lowering the flag at sunset take the flag and throw ft into a corner of the guard som, where it would remain until sunrise t morning, when it would be raised lt was shameful what a la the flag. There was of the officers to storm about it, for sm any more than religion cannot be is surpris- a ¢ th its growth. Some of the older ones of us had a faith that something would turn up in time to set things right, but ft was only faith. In 1896, [ think, the army had got about as low im the matter of rlatism as was possible, for if it fell er it woul ana disruption. Officers had } © affected in the s: . but, of cor not to such an extent, when sound of war was heard—and the v. to Increase patriotism which put in » operation by command arters were forgotten. In a day it was all ever. ‘Then ft was ob- ed that the soldiers noticed that there wv in the flag. There was red, e in it all of the time; but the h lhe average soldier—had be- come color blind and he could not distin- guish it. As d it was c and put even ten- ay to wait till The flag was not rin the guard room any of the garrisons and posts ed a box in which the flag r night, and in every one was made or provided by mselves. The moment the ered he a all tely went It has remained up kK Kee et me give you a pointer tn putting away your feom stoves fer the-eummer,” id an accommodating stove man to a ar reporter. “In the great majority of people pack away their sma!l stoves in their cellars for the summer. Cellars ¢ less damp, and the grates and @ rust and in some cases actu- ly consume themselves with rust, for one ummer in a damp cellar does a stove more harm that its steady use during the win- ter season. In such cases never clean out the stove. A good quantity of ashes in the stove is the best possible preservative of the Inside of the steve. The ashes and cin- | ders absorb the moisture which otherwise would attack the grate and other linings. In the same way tt is better that the bed of cinders in the furnaces should be kept in them during the summer. Careful house- keepers are right in most things, that when Ked away for the summer they should s rule, however, does not work the case of stoves and furnaces. 'S not theory, but the result of many years’ experience, and when once observed will alws lowed. It will be found that it will pay x~* Ke KR “I have often noticed the vicious propens!- ties of sparrows, but I never knew that | their enmity for other birds, such as robins, Was as great as it fs until recently, suburban resident to the writer yester- “A pair of robins, as has been their om for several past years, last week commenced building their summer home in an elm tree on the sidewalk in front of my house, and the work went bravely on | with song and rapid flutter of wings. Sud- denly the songs ceased and the work on the nest stop; But {t was not left alone, for a bard of miserable sparrows attacked it, and {f possible were more active in its | destruction than the robins had been in its construction. “A few days later the robins began an- other nest in a tali maple tree near by, and the work was pushed rapidly. But a few days since it was evident that something | Was wrong again. There was a great out- cry on the part of the robins and an un- musical chatter by pugnaclous sparrows. \ The latter were again victorious, and at ones proceeded to demolish the nearly fin- ished nest, which work they soon com- pleted, strings, grass, feathers, etc., being scattered promiscuously about. “This was not all, nor the worst, for the male robin was seen hanging by a cord fastened to its neck and one wing, dead, and not ten feet from the place where the nest had been. The sight attracted the at- tention of passers-by, but It was so high that none‘cared to ascend the tree to get the bird. Being anxious to know thafacts as to the reason of the bird’s death, I spliced my stiff trolling rod, with a knife attached to the tip, to a long pike pole, and with the help of a ladder and the assistance of a neighbor I succeeded in reaching and cut- ting the string above the bird. An examination showed that a string, common wrapping twine, was passed through the wing quills around the neck and knotted so tightly that considerable patience was required to remove it, so that death must have been soon effected. “The male being dead and the nest de- stroyed, the female has departed, so that I am no longer favored with thelr sweet morning and evening songs. The question new is, ‘Who killed Cock Robin? Was tt suicide from repeated defeats or was he accidentally caught in the string? Or was it premeditated murder on the part of piratical sparrows?” ————— Spring Styles of Weather. From the Indiaaapolls Press, She—"I wonder why we always have so much disagreeable weather when ft is sup- posed to be spring?” He—“Spring ts represented as feminine, is she not “Yes. “Exactly. Well, my idea {s that fust be- fore winter goes out of business he holds a bargain remnant sale.” ——_+e-+—_____ A Natural Mistake. From the Chicago Tribune. (Overhearing) “Paid $15,000 for his scat? Why, that’s no price at all. I've known mien who had to put up more than four times that—" “Oh, we're not talking of a United States senatorship. I was telling him of what it cost @ man to get into the board of trade.” THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY A PRETTY MEAN TRICK “While in Paris this Inst timé I heard an odd story about an American dentist who died not long ago, after gaining great fame and wealth in the French capit: sald a Washingtonian who recently returned from a trip abroad. “It goes back to the time when this famous American dentist first oa- tablished himself in Parts. There was, and still is, a law in France that reads to this general effect: If I, a practicing physician, surgeon or dentist, sell out my practice to another man, and stipulate, undor forfetture of a large sum, that I shall not resumo practice within a specificd distance of the office I occupy at the timo I sell out my practice—if I violate this bce by setting up another office within the pro- scribed limit, I am compelled by the law to pay the forfeiture agreed upon in the con- tract to the man whe buys my practice, and the only alternative is prison until the eit is paid. forwell, this. American dentist —— pd ris a great many years ago, Haste out the practice of an American dentist who had picked up many shekels, if not great fame, in the course of his Paris- ian practice, and who wanted to return to his native land to apend his remaining days with his own people. There was the usual clause in the contract, or deed, or bill of sale, or whatever you call it, requiring the departing dentist not to set up an of- fice or do any practicing whatsoever within a radius of two miles of the office he was vacating. It seemed an unnecessary stipu- lation, in view of the fact that the dentist who was selling out meant to return imme- diately to the United States, but the man who bought his practice and who afterward became so famous insisted upon the clause ye inserted. fg ‘iter the deal had been made and the departing dentist was all but ready to re- turn to the United States, an English no- bleman, a resident of Paris, for whose chil- dren he had done a great deal of work, ceme to him and told him that he de- sired him to do some more work on his : ters’ teeth. eT am sorry,’ replied the dentist who had sold out his practice, ‘but [ won't be able to do it. As you Know, I have dis- posed of my practice to Mr. Blank, and under the terms of our contract I cannot practice within a radius of two miles of the office I have vacated for him. As your residence is only two squares away, you will perceive that it is out of the ques- fon. eSput I want you to do the work, and no one else,’ insisted the English nobleman. ‘Just u tell the man to whom you have s d of your practice the situation, and no doubt he will be agreeable in this one Well, I'll see him,’ replied the dentist. “The dentist did go to the man to whom he had sold out, and stated the matter. “‘Go ahead and do the work,’ said his successor, cordially. ‘Of course, I shall lodge no objection in this particular case.” “The dentist did go ahead with the work on the teeth of the English nobleman’s children, and on the very afternoon of the day he began the work he had a call from uuccessor. uu are indebted to me in the sum of s,' said he, sharply, to his pre- or, for the amount of the forfeiture in their contract was 100,000 franc: dentist who had been working on the children’s teeth that morning started in amazement. “You are jesting!’ he exclaimed. “‘No, I am not, his successor’s re- "You owe me 100,000 francs, under the e pl 7 terms of our contract, dnd I would adv you to pay it at once; otherwise I snall take immediate steps, under the law, to collect itt “But did you not cordially agree to my doing this bit of work, which I have only undertaken at the earnest entreaty of the father of the children?’ asked the dentist who had sold out. ‘Did you not only ye: ay that you would be quite agree ““T may and I may not have said any- thing of the sort—at any rate, you have no proof that I gave you any said the dentist who afte much wealth and fame. ‘You will pay the $20,000, my friend, or it will be the worse for you,’ and he ttirned his back on the man upon whom he had put the screw, and walked awa: “The 100,000 francs were paid. Rather contemptible, on the whole, was it not?” —_+—__ OVERALLS AND THOUGHT. The Argument Was Good, but the Pie Was Not Forthcoming. ‘The man in overalls was partaking of his noonday lunch on the shady side of a high board fence, when a tramp sidled up and sat down on the end of a stick of timber about a dozen feet ‘away. The tramp had nothing to say, but seemed to be absorbed in watching the workingman devour a huge wedge of pie, in which he almost hid the lower half of his face at every bite. It was evidently very good ple, Finally the tramp spcke. “I was just thinking,” he began— “That never makes any callous places on your hands, does it? laughed the man in overalls, good-naturedly, but the tramp paid no heed to the interruption. “I was just thinking,” he went o1 vonderful country this {ts of ours.” Yes, and it'll be a heap sight wonder- fuller when we get through expanding it,” suggested the workingman. “No doubt of that,” admitted the tramp. “But think of its extent and wealth now. Why, did it ever strike you that we have under our star-spangled fence, as It were, two thousand million acres of land, and our wealth is equal to seventy-five thousand millions of dollars? Think of those stu- pendous figures, sir; and we are only as yet in our infancy—the youngest nation of any importance on the globe.” * “It's a loo-loo,” was the strongest thing the workingman could say, but he said it fervently. Yes," continued the tramp, “and think that for those seventy-five thousand mil- lions of dollars there could be furnished to our people one billion five hundred thousand million pies as big as that one you have just got away with, and yet I haven't stuck a@ tooth into a piece of ple in six months. I haven't, so help me Dick Robinson.” The man in overalls looked at him sym- Pathetically. “Well, you ought to be tn better luck,” he said. “I eat one like it every day. So long." And he went back to work, leaving the tramp on the end of the stick of timber still thinking. —.—__. What's in a Namet “I suppose,” ‘said a government clerk to the man across the table, “that you have heard of the Virginla family of Derby who spells its name E-n-r-o-u-g-h-t-y, as well as the Chumleys of England, who spell it with a C and an h and an o and an! and an m and ano and ann and a d and an e and an land ane and a y, besides a lot more of the same kind of astonishing orthoepical effects from unexpected causes, but I came across one the other day that I'll bet a hat you never heard of. The subject of the sketch was a Virginian, or claimed that he was, and he was so youthful and unsophis- ticated that I guess he was telling the truth —children and fools, you know, having a weakness in that regard. I met the young fellow on a train between Richmond and Petersburg and we struck up quite an ac- quaintance. He told me his name was Tol- liver—Oliver Tolliver—and I very naturally asked him if he spelled his name as did the famous F. F. V. Taliaferros, and he sald he did and seemed to be proud of it. I was rather proud to be friendly with one of the name myself, and made myself extra agreo- able. When fe left me at a way station and told me good-bye he tendered me his card and told me he hoped I would not for- get him. I didn’t look at the card till he had gone, and would you believe it, the young fellow had his name spelied to match, as it were, and it appeared thus: ‘Mr. Alia- ferro Taliaferro,’ which in my humble opin- fon was getting Oliver Tolliver down pretty §me. Don't you think so, too?” —__ The Anglomaninac. From the Philadelphia Record, Tom—"I supposed Cholly Saphead is still pro-British Dick—“Oh, of course. He has a new wrinkle now. Have you heard him speak of Joey Chamberlain, lately?” ‘Tom—“T haven't seen him of late. Why?” Dick—“He refers to him as ‘Camber- lain.” He heard somewhere that the Brit. ish never sound their ‘h’s.’” “what a The Work Cure, From the Chicago Record. - “The healthy brother supported the in- valid brother for years and years and years, and then the healthy brother died.” “What became of the poor Invalid broth- er?” “Oh, be had to get well and go to work.” THE WISH OF HIS HEART eee TE Tt waa “Butgh’s” Virst pair of long “pants.” pias “Butch,” of eourse,’ tsn't his correct Christian nam& It's! only the name by which he is kno¥n bythe boys in “‘the lot.’* His right name Js Reginald, but his mother is the only one who eglis him that, and he doesn’t like it, ‘anyhew; it's too much like the name of a jj Tittle bo¥ who gets to be cashier of a;bank in a story book; he prefers ‘Butch.'f, : “Butch” had! beer pleading with his mother for long’‘pant&—with suspenders at- tached, of courge—ever since he'd attained the puissant agp of eight, and he was now twelve—and still wearing knee pants at twelve. The humiligtion of this almost overwhelmed the boy. “Let the youngster ‘ear long pants if he want's 'em,” ‘Butch’ father had said to Reginald’s mother. “Every boy wants to wear long pants. I wouldn't give 2 cents for a boy that didn’t. B'lieve I wore ‘em when I was nine—my dad’s, whittled down. Of course, I was hustling for a living when I was nine—carrying the hod, !f I remem- ber right, or something like that; but that doesn’t make any difference. If the boy's hankering for long pants, go down town to- morrow and buy him a suit.” But Reginald’s mother demurred. “He'll have a good many years to wear long trousers, and he can’t, of course, & on wearing Knickerbockers much longe! she sald; “but I hate to make the change. He's such a chubby, shapely boy,” ete. When “Butch” found, a coupte of months ago, that all of his pleadings for long pants weren't going to avail him any, and that the best he could get from his mother was a vague promise that “she'd see" about letting him put them on when school “took up” in the fall, he made up his mind that he couldn't wait. He was the more resolved in his heart because the idol of his soul etat eleven, and named Mildred) had pessed him by for a boy of his own age Who wore long pants, and she walked home from school with thls. victorious youth every afternoon. That wasn't to be lightly endured, “Butch” reflected. He was going to have long pants, and that's all there was about it. “Butch” got a newspaper route unbe- known to his mother or father—although he had to do a igt of hustling to get through his route in time to be on hand for dinner. On Saturdays he worked in a downtown store for a half dollar per Saturday, wrap- ping bundles, sweeping out, running cr- rands, and so on. His mother didn’t miss him on the school holidays, supposing him to be down in the lot, as usual, playing foot ball or base ball or shinny. When “Butch” got through his day’s work on Saturday last he had $8 saved up. For over a week he'd had his eye on a suit that he thought would about fit him, marked $7. He went to the store where it was exhibited, tried it on with a natural feeling of exultation when he looked down and saw the length of the pants, paid for the suit, bought a pair of elastic suspen- ders for a quarter, had the sult and the suspenders wrapped up and took them home. The plans he had made for_sraug- gling the suit and the suspenders into his home didn’t haye to be put into operation, for his father and mother were at the the- ater when he arrived home. His mother called up the stairs, ‘Resi- nald, it is time for you to get up and have your breakfast and go’ to Sunday scliool," three times the next morning, and on each occasion Reginald answered “‘Yes’m,” and turned over onthe other side and went to sleep. ; ‘Then his father went to the bottom of the stairs, said “Dutch! just once, and the boy hopped out of bed. “Frutch"’ had polished his shoes the night before. and he togged himself out gorgeous- ly in his new $7 suit, with mingled feelings. He didn’t know what was going to happen avhen he got downstairs. He figured that he'd be allowed to Wwear 'em to Sunday school, ‘anyhow, for he’d purposely delayed dres: ing until he'd be a trifle late, so that he ‘wouldn't have time to change into his knickerbocker® and ‘ff he was only per- initted to wear them gnee, so that his hated and the perfidions Mildred should see them, he felt that would be something, anyhow. : “Ready for breakfast, Butch?” his father called up the stairs. “Yessir, sald “Butch,” giving himself a final hitch, and then he went downstair: where his mother and father were already at the morning meal: He walked into the dining room as ff everything was about as usual with him, “Reginald Nextdoor!” .. exclaimed his mother, and “Reginald looked awkward, “Where did you get those clathes? The boy's pepe ora Sane back in his air with a grin of astonishment. cnMouahe *em,” replied Reginald, sticking his hands into the side pockets of his long “pants.” a eought ‘em with what, ‘Butch?’ his father asked him, trying to iron out the grin that persisted in sticking to his fea- res. : “ethe boy modestly told of the employ- ‘ments he had found in order to acquire sufficient wealth wherewith to purchase the sult. “Reginald Nextdoor, you'll go right down with me tomorrow morning and exchange that suit for a suit with knee pants! The idea of such a thing!’ exclaimed his moth- er, looking at his father for support. “Go right upstairs and take them off this min- ute!” > ‘The boy hung his head. His father, who had been Jooking out of the window, hand- ed the boy a quarter. “Just run out and get me a couple of pa- pers first, son,” He said to the boy and “Butch,” perceiving something hopeful in his father's tone, put on his cap and went out. “The idea of such a thing!” his mother sald to his father, as soon as the front door had closed on the boy. The father went to the window and tried to look severe and judicial, but it didn’t work. He couldn't erase that grin. “That's all right, mother," he said, final- ly. ‘ ‘Butch’ is all right, and I wish you'd side in with us on this, and not feel badly about it. I—" ‘Richard Nextdaor, I do belleve you knew all about thi: exclaimed the boy's mother. “Nope, I didn’t,” replied the boy’s father. “Honest, I didn't. But the boy's all right. He's got the grit. I'd like to have him keep the suit—I'll put what he paid for it in his bank—f you wouldn't really greatly mind. Just indulge ‘Butch’ and me In this, won't you? A youngster that'll go out and hustle that way deserves encouragement.” The boy’s mother was at the front win- dow, watching for the return of Reginald. As he swung across the street, with the papers in his hand, she said, with a little gulp, and a finger at her lip: “Well, he does look manly in them, doesn’t he?” Then “Butch’s” father kyew that he didn't have to say any more. He gave the boy an expressive look when he came in, “Butch” sat down to his breakfast, went to Sunday school, and when he came back he walked glongside the fickle Mildred, while the other boy lagged sulkily in the rear. ae The Reason. From Lite, “Brayalot was just complaining to me that he finds it almost impossible to get any subscriptions to that hospital he's In- terested in." Soe “I’m not’ surprised. nounced publ: published.” The chump an- that the list would not be Olga (who has overheard a conversation in the drawing room)—‘‘Aren’t you weren't born a lady, cook?” Cook—“W! should I be ogeoka Why ‘be glad, Miss i “Well, see what #- lot of | oud have with the serventegs ge trouble MR. JOBSON PLAYS POKER “Ha hat!” joyously laughed Mr. Jobson, throwing aside the newspaper he was read- ing one evening some little time back. “Here's a story in this paper about a Mon- tana man who taught his wife how to play poker, just so they eould play together in the bosom of their own fireside and hearth- stone, and how, when she hadn't much more than mastered the value of the hands, she got a winning streak, won all of his property—which she made him formally deed over to her—and then turned him into the street. Ha ha! I say again. The idea of a Montana man's wife being able to skin him at poker! The idea of any man’s wife, anywhere, for, the matter of that, being able to beat him at poker; that fs, any man who's one-eighth of 1 per cent stronger in his upper works than the ordinary house- tack of commerc: “Do you think it’s right for women to play poker?” Mrs. Jobson asked him, as she picked up another stocking to darn. “For women to play poker?” inquired Mr. Jobson, with a strong accentuation on the word “play.” “Mrs. Jobson, there never Was a woman yet that played poker; wo- men just play at it. And as far as its be- ing right’s concerned, of course it's all rigbt, providing a man and wife just play together. By Jove! come to think of it, it wouldn't be a bad scheme for me to teach you something about poker; that is, teach you as much about it as a Woman can ever learn. I might just as well dish out the hands to myself and play solitaire, for I don’t suppose you'd ever arrive at the point where you'd know whether four kings made fours or just two pairs, but I beileve Till just initiate you into the value of the poker hands, anyhow, for the fun of the thing.” “But,” demurred Mrs. Jobson, “I can't get over feeling that for a woman to play poker is something dreadful, and——” “Not any more dreadful, or whatever else you call it, than it is for a woman to play euchre, or old maid, or casino, Mrs. Job- son,” said Mr. Jobson, In his best judicial manner. “And, as a matter of fact’’—here Mr. Jobson chuckled again—‘‘you'll never, as I say, really play poker, you know. You'll just think you're playing, but you won't be guilty. “ Where's that deck of cards?” “It’s In that cabinet,” with a finger at her lip. the ladies of my guild know in such an awful—" “Oh, I'll bet there are @ lot of 'em who play among themselves for marshmallows and gumdrops,”" said Mr. Jobson, producing the pasteboards and riffing them with the insouclant air of a professional aboard the Robert E. Lee or the Natchez, on a down- river Mississippi cruise. “Just draw your chair up to the table, and I'll tell you the Value of the hands. Then we can play with matches for chips, and it’ll be more fun than a box of monkeys to see you catch Straight flushes and things and throw ’em into the discard because you think you haven't got anything in your hand fit to play with. Now, a pair,” ete., ete. Mr. Jobson proceeded to tell’ Mrs. Jobson the worth of the hands. She couldn’t see into the values at all at first, but she got a pen- cil and pad and jotted down the respective values of the hands from pairs to royal flushes, and after about fifteen minutes, during which she chewed quite a large piece off the end of her pencil, she said she thought she understood. Mr. Jobson took a hundred parlor matches from a box, and divided them into equal stacks of fifty each. In passing over Mrs. Jobson’s stack to her he said, with an in- dulgent smile: ‘Now be cautious in betting matches. Just try to consider that ene of ‘em represents a dollar; and If you do that, and at the same time get to think- ing of the foray you could make on the bargain counters if each one of those matches really was a dollar, I guess you'll be careful with ‘em, all right. I've ex- plained to you what bluffing is, and if you feel like bluffing, go ahead ‘and bluff.” Here Mr. Jobson took his watch off the chain and laid ft on the table beside him. “And,"" he continued, “if I don’t have those fifty matches of yours over on this de of the table in just forty minutes, 1'll leem every one of ‘em you still possess at the end of that time with a new, crac- kling paper dollar.’ * So they be; / From the go-off the bluffing idea upon which Mr. Jobson had expatiated so elaborately seemed to pos- Sess a peculiar fascination for Mrs. Jobson, as it dees for most, women who are ini- tiated into the mystefies of poker—perhaps because it looks to'them like a e of getting something for nothing. At any rate Mrs. Jobson took the bluffing end of it right from the start, and without anything whatever In her hand to.back up her bluffs, so that within something less than eight minutes Mr. Jobson had twenty of her metches over on his side of the table, and his face was laced with expansive smiles. “Easy, easy, my dear,” said Mr. Jobson, indulgently, after catching Mrs. Jobson ina peculiarly raw bluff, in which she tried to chisel him out of a Jackpot he opened him- self, after she had drawn four cards. “You'll find it just as well, at first, to play for what your hand is worth, and no more. Bluffing’s one of the fine, inside points of the game, and it's only done by old-timers who know how to measure up their oppo- nents, and to whom the ordinary bluffless game of poker is only baby-play. Just you play for what your hands are worth, and maybe your feminine luck'll pull’ you through—although I am constrained to re- new my offer to cash every match you pos- sess at the expiration of the stipulated time with a brittle new dollar of the realm." It happened to be Mrs. Jobson's deal just then. She picked up her cards and studied them quite closely for a long time, until Mr. Jobson's impatient ‘‘Well?” seemed to arouse her. * “Well, suppose I may as well play for one match,” sald Mrs. Jobson, doubtfully, with a finger at her lip, “although—did you say that if the cards run in sequence—that said Mrs. Jobson, “d hate to have that I'd engage thos ch ig, three, four, five, six and seven—you caf It a straight?” “Yes,” said Mr. Jobson, inwardly gloat ing, for he had a pat full hand. “Well, I'll see what I can draw,” said Mrs. Jobson, discarding one, but Mr. Job- son raised it before the draw, and she re- luctantly stayed along. “It's your bet,” said Mr. Jobson, after Mrs. Jobson had served herself with one eard and looked sad whén he said he'd pley along with the ones he held. Mrs. Jobson hesitatingly put one match in the center of the table. “Let's see,"" said Mr. Jobson, “‘that leaves you with twenty-nine matches, doesn’t 1t? Well, I'm sorry, my dear, but I'll just tap you. Put them all in.” Mrs. Jobson pushed all of her remaining matches into the pot, with an expression of quite poignant misery on her face. Mr. Jobson counted out twenty-nine matches from his pile, and then started to haul the whole pile down. “King full, my dear,” said he, with a smile, spreading out his cards, “and it’s only twenty-five minutes since we started tome” “I win, don’t I?” said Mrs. Jobson, inno- cently, showing her four sevens, and Mr. Jobson’s jaw fell. “Tried to lead me to believe you were drawing to a straight, hey?” said he, as Mrs. Jobson drew down the matches. “Well, isn’t that part of what you call bluffing?” asked Mrs. Jobson, with a twinkle In her eye. “Huh!” was all the reply Mr, Jobson vouchsafed. Two minutes Jater, on his own deal, Mr. Jobson caught two pairs, aces up on sev- ens. Mrs. Jobson caught another on8 to her pair of fours in the draw, and she dis- played them when the show-down came, with all of Mr. Jobson’s matches tn the center of the table. Then she smiled mer- rily. “A hundred dollars, please, sir,” she sald, reaching out her hand. Mr. Jobson rose ‘from dignity. “Madame,” said he, looking at her stern- ly, “far be tt from me to wrongfully accuse you. But when, in a spirit of good nature, I suggested about half an hour ago, that we might derive mutual entertainment if I taught you the value of the hands in Poker, I was not aware that you were already an expert at the game—that, in brief, Mrs. Jobson, you were nothing more nor less than what is known as a short-card Player. I will not venture to hazard any guesg as to where you picked up your nefarious knowledge of the game, but I’m going to begin an Investigation into that matter the first thing tomorrow morning, Mrs. Jobson —the first thing tomorrow morning!” Then Mr. Jobson climbed upstairs to bed, and Mrs. Jobson leaned back in her chair and smiled. his chair with great ——— ey Four-Minute Stop. From tho Indianapolis Press. “How long does the train stop here?” the old lady asked the brakeman. -“Stop here?” answered the functionary. “Four minutes. From two to two to two- two. E wonder,” mused the old lady, “if that Man thinks he ig the whistle?” MIDWAY AT THE FAIR Queer Drinks Are in Evidence at All _the Sideshows, NEW FEATURES OF THE EXPOSITION Not the Least Interesting Are the Reproductions of the Past. REMARKABLE ILLUSIONS Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, April 2, 1900. The Midway Plaisance is dead—tong live the Midway Plaisance! When the original street of Cairo was in its heyday the Paris life of amusement still depended om the night. The Moulin Rouge and the Cafe Americain were the height of chic, and the Rayety of the fair was of the old-style Frenchiness. ‘he Licycle, the automobile and the new life of “sport” changed all that, and the Midway Plaisance of the ex- hibition is strikingly different from the old street where the weird cadences of the danse du ventre first burst upon the world. In the old Jardin de Paris the “fin de siecle dance,” with Rayon d'Or, La Melenite, La Meme Fromage and La Goulue, waved its lace-edged petticoats as the last gesture of the dying century. Helas! The fin de siecle dance itself is dead, and ts divinities have grown stout and heavy. The Midway I'lai- sance {s as amusing as ever, only it has changed. It has grown soberer—outwardly. We, who have just returned from the Swiss village, can bear witnes: innocent deviltry and the kind that is agreed to be “Parisian” neither the waving skirts of La Mome Fromage nor yet the gauze waistband of La Belle Fa- tima are essential. Beyond question, the mark of the present exhibition is the pretty waiter girl in hitherto undreamed-of profu sion. The pretty waiter girl in the Sw: village runs to blue cyes, blonde beaids and a smart black corset put on outside. It is the Swiss peasant costume, and it gces well with yodling. We saw ‘lree young Americans drinking pink Swiss champagne under the arbor on the summit of Mount Pilatus to the sound of their own yodling, while the yellow braids were bob- bing in the winds. “How do you like the Midway?” we asked. “This is our mountain,” was all that they yelled down to us. “Yahshoodle-oy, yah- hoodle- The Swiss village is the bixg- est sideshow, and Mount Filatus is its biggest feature, yet its ascension is no more laborious than dragging up six flizits to your Paris mansard at night, and iis tered arbors and bosky nooxs, with 1 expectant nymphs, have all the cozin home life. From many a six-storied wooden mountain, covered with scene-j vas, the ga: yodle to eac t im youth of the various other across ver enlivened with lowing kine milkmaids, while from e: chamois (read goat) skips after the bi of the charitable. Down in yonder village you are importuned by yellow braids with cuckoo clocks for sale. Up in the highlands they tempt you with pink champagne. Drinks Everywhere. Now, speaking of champagne, this fs an- other feature of the present exhibition—the riotous omnipresence of the wine list. Not to mention the opera comique scenie effects of the wines of France exhibit in the old Salle des Machines, the Son of Temper- ance finds himself running up against fizz at every turn. After climbing laboriously, in a diagonal spiral, around the girdle of the universe on the immense celestial globe, one meets—beyond the furthest star—an American bar. This, by the way, strikes another keynote of the present exhibition and Its Midw: Plaisance—the instructive and practically useful character of its gayeties. It is a globe within a globe, the inner one and much the smaller being our earth. Many have asked why the heavens aré repre- sented by a globe. If you were inside it you would perceive, not a convex globe, but a concave heavenly vault Ht up on every side, above, below, with stars. The central sphere (it will hold twenty people} is the earth, and it turns ever as the earth does on its axis. Round goes the modn, with double motion; the planets circle around the sun, and the sun seems to be moved round, although it {s the sun that moves; stars, nebula, the milky way and fiery comets keep up their apparent mo- tion. When one, climbing around the sphere that is the earth, begins descending to the southern henfisphere to look down on the Southern Cross, the effect is start- ling. For thé first time in my life I got an idea of what eternal space is with no up nor down except in relation to our own lit- tle sphere. The star-spangled, blue-black immensity extends all around, underneath as well as above. Then the great Saint- Saens organ booms the music of the srieres: it was well to have put that bar there. ipy io crag the fie Foreigners in Troubie. The “zig-zag” and the “rollo” books are not in it with this exhibition for mingled instruction and amusement. After the trip around the universe there is the trip around the world, and this in various forms. The Tour du Monde Itself is a theater on which pass scenes from every country, acted by natives. No one has seen it yet, because half the native actors have been painting Paris @ bright vermillion ever since their arrival. The Chinese got into trouble for maltreating a girl of the Quartier d'Europe. Some of the American Indians are at the Gepot, the result of too much ftirewater. The troubles of the Annamites have become classical. It seems they imagined them- selves cheated by the French manager, so one Sunday morning they tied this man hand and foot to a post. Then each Anna- mite stepped gravely past him, spit at him ot calmly told him what he thought of im! Of this Tour du Monde series of pano- ramas and dioramas the greatest is, per- haps, the mareorama, of which I have al- ready written—a steamer trip around the Mediterranean, where the boat rolls and pitches; where it comes up night at sea, and where the sweet shores of the Riviera glide past the view from Marseilles all the way to Alexandria. The Panorama Trans- atilantique, a show of the same kind, takes one from Havre to the harbor of New York. Effect of Real Life. By far the most novel of these panorama effects, however, is the device of the cine- orama—an application of the cinemato- graphe, or biograph, to the panorama. Here, in a big building by itself, are four simultaneous biographs instead of one, and @ whole panoramic circle of moving pic- tures instead of a flat picture on a sheet. ‘The result is an extraordinary ghost-like effect of real life. Imagine the panorama of the Crucifixion or the battle of Gettys- burg with all the figures in motion! Biograph effects abound. The Cham- pagne Panorama of the Mercier Company— more drink; Great Scott! where will this end?—which shows the champagne vine- yards, the vintage, the grape-pressing and all the processes that go on under the ground in the immense caves of Epernay. Though they are shown in color and as large as life, they have a biograph show added to them for exactness. Again, at the Combat Naval, a biograph illusion of the combat of Manila bay—where did they get it?—supplements the splashing wonders of this. aquatic show of which all Americans already have tired. The Naval Combat is, nevertheless, a great card at the exposi- tion. What will be newer to Americans is the Pavillon du Creusot, an immense metal- Me cupola, one of the “armored construc- tions” of the future, supposed to be an im- pregnable army stopper. More like an tron- clad on earth—or five or six fronc] Toiled into one—it points its terrible guns in every direction. Its interior, containing the gun exhibit of the now celebrated Creusot Com- pany, 1s crowded continually by — that talks war. It is a look into a Paris With a Past. Then there are the sideshows that reveal the past. Old Paris, the archetype of them all, is, of course, the great archaeologically valuable reconstruction. The designer of it, Robida, has been known for years as the most learned of the student painters of old France, an illustrator of expensive editions of “Les Contes Drolatiques” of Balzac, “Don Quixote,” Rabelais and so on. The popular objection to- Old Paris is the ex- cessive cost of getting through the show. . It is a real, little old town by the river, and there are a turnstile and ticket seller at every corner, Do you desire to see them hang the faithless page to the battlements? It costs two francs. Would you visit the banquet hall of the Good Seigneur? You must pay for the middle age dinner, It gets monotonous. Still, nothing of the kind has ever been seen before. and. merely as a decorative effect. Old Paris Is 'a great quisition to the exposition. One detail is raising & great controversy. The faithless page hangs from the battlements pr steadily. His limp body, swinging tn breeze, to recall the humors of the good times, is of an uncanny horror. Women have been made fil gazing too long at it. Some say it ought not be permitted. Others call it a good republican object lesson for reactionists. Another humanitarian con- troversy rages around the bull fights of Andalusia in the times of the Moors.” We have just returned from this gorgeous Mid- way sideshow, our eyes full of barbaric color and our ears full of barbaric minor cadences. Here, friends, you see the real, original danse du ventre, done (for the first time in the history of western civilization) by pretty girls and not old mammies fram the siums of Cairo, dishwashers from the back streets of Jerusalem or the forlorn femininities of Montmartre. The girls are sald to be from Cadiz and Tangiers. So much the better for Cadiz and Tangiers, We once, in company of Major Pred Brack ett, now one of the American commiss' ers to the exposit: rehed those ci in vain for their Mke. The bull fi excites the humanitarians is prac: the old style, on good hors with long lances. The horses are not killed, and scarcely ever injured. The bull, even, is not killed, though he gets jabbed a lot. For the rest, it is a page out of Washington ir- ving, the street fetes and parades of Boab- ali el Chico, how the Count de Cabra sal- Ned forth from his castle, the marriage of Hamet el Zegri, alcalde of Ronda, and a dozen other glowing romances, acted by hundreds of performers, with appropriate scenery, in a big, open-air circus-theater. Illusion is Complete. Of the same character fs the Cour des Miracles en 1400, a reconstruction of the Paris of Victor Hugo's “Notre Dame,” with the old Hotel Saint-Pol, the King of the Tramps; Esmeralda anu her nanny, and a full tourney or Jousting, with knights in armor battle-axing each other In the good old style. Should any one not have enough yet, there is Venice—the old gondola show that so long delighted London, Vienna and the other capltals, now refurbished and en- larged. You may ask how is it that the people Go not tire of all these reconstruc- lions of the past, all these moving pan ramas and dioramas? It is because, first, they are so l done, so absolutely life- like, that the magical illusion is complete. Secondly, and most important. there are pretty girls and mixed drinks at every one of them in every corner. Never in our life have we seen so much fizz, never many alleged American bars many samples given away. price and charged for e 3 is the water diorama of “Niagara at Paris. Canadian girls (they certainly speak French) sell a Niagara-foam champagno there. There is the panorama of Marchand and Fashoda. Black girls sell what they all_“maize beer.” At the panorama Rome it is the headachy asti spumant offered by wicked-eyed, purple-lipped peas- ant girls of the Campagna. There are the panorama of Madaguscar, the panorama of Jena and the panorama of Vesuvius at Paris, spouting flame. The Uuside Down House. A whole other series of Midway attrac: halt The tions is found in the humorous or merely curious effects of, say, for instance, the upside-down house. It is exactly tt says, a house—an old French manor house— built upside down, the roof first, then the third story, the second, first, the cellar in the air and the fou! pointing to the sky. a good place to bring your girl after she has sampled the Swiss pink a su spumante, the fl relel pa lon, th s of the wines of the French exhibit (t are free drinks for week in this one ion), and. th talls, cobblers, slings and’ punches bars. Bring her to the upside-down turn her loose in It and be repaid for a ur tolls and troubles. The rooms are upside down, too, the tables and chairs hanging from the ceilings, on the walls the pictures being wrong side up and every- thing complete. Stranger still, by an in- genious mechanism, when you 1 from the Windows you see the exhibition grounds around about are upside down, too. If this does not convince her that she is standing on her head you may take her to the sub- terranean world and twenty thousand leagues under the sea without fear, for she will be wonder pro: They have gone > much trouble and ex- pense with their “Subterranean World of the Trocadero.” The mining section of it shows the whole life of a mine, with miners picking, blasting and vuperating the ex- tractors, while mules draw ore in little cars along a railroad track. In another part the marvels of the subterranean flora are exhibited. Geology has its place. Then comes archaeology, with the famous tomb of Oyamemnon, the finds of Dr. Schlie- mann, a necropolis of Memphis and a re- ccnstruction of the homes of ail the diifer- ent cave dwellers. Here the never-absent bar is in the prettiest part, the stalactite grottoes, besides mysterious underground laies, which are lit up with great eff Ttis the same story of expense and realism at the aquarium, called properly “Twenty Thou- sand Leagues Under the Sea." The specta- tor is down there underneath the waters in the deep (there is a bar}, with water on all sides, where great eels wriggle to get at you and great fishes bump their noses against the plate glass. Dances of the World. The native theaters of the different coun- tries take a deal of visiting—the Persian theater, the Java theater, the Servian thea- ter, the Bohemian dance hall, the Hunga- rian ballet and a dozen others. The Paris- ian, who never tires of lovely woman, and who cannot imagine any one else tiring, seems to have brought together all the races to disport themselves upon the stage. In particular the Palais de la Manse shouid be Visited, because a unique set of shows is given in it, often imagined, but never be- fore realized. It is no common sideshow, It is part of the exhibition 1 i, under the charge of M. Georges Bourdon, late stage manager of the Odeon (government thea- ter), and the government architect Lemarie. Something of this dream was realized in the “Tanz Maehrchen” ballet that has visitors to the Grand Opera Hous na for so many years. the dance unrolis it before one, the Gance in all ages and all countries, from the “Ping-ven" of the Chinese and the “Baya- eres” of the Hindoos to the “Pyrrhic Dances” of the Greeks and the “Bacchana- lian Revels” of the Romans, from the ongleurs” of the middle ages to the “Passe-pieds” of the Renaissance. Then there are the minuet,the gavotte, the cancan and the modern quadrille, with the Tale of the Waltz by way of episode. For the first time in Paris foreign ballet stars and cory- phees get a fair chance beside the French girls of the ballet school of the Grand Opera. The company will be changing con- Unually through the spring and summer, and the list of light-heeled ladies from Vienna, St. Petersburg, London and Milan proves—what was anticipated—that the ex- hibition’s Dance Palace is to be a real in- ternational ballet tournament. “Let them all come” is the watchword, and they come from far and wide, on their vacations, to take in the show—and show themselves, The Giant Theater Columbia also, now that it is through the lawsuits and failures of its first year, has its own giant ballet. It is, however, not a Midway Plaisance show. Some of the greatest sideshow attractions, for that matter, are not actually in the Plaisance, which, to be strictly correct, is not one Midway street, but several. The Palais de l'Optique, with the great tele- scope installed in it, is one of the official exhibition buildings. Here also Is to be seen the greatest scientific wonder of them all, the “distance-seer” of the young Polish inventor, Szczepanik, of which I hate al- ready written in full. The Palais du Cos- tume, too—a great show—has an official character. Yet a description of the Mid- way Plaisance with these unique shows omitted would give a poor idea of its at- tractions. The delights of travel are great- ly emphasized. You get lots of glimpses at the past and at the future. STERLING HEILIG, + Just So. of Vien- Here the story of From Puck. =~ “What is an island?” asked the teacher, addressing her interrogation to the claas in hy. “An island, ma’am,” replied Johnny Broadhead, a studious lad who had Porto Rico in mind, “is a body of land entirely surrounded by politics.” = —_—_+o-+____ First Nurse Girl—“So you've got 4 new place?” Second Nurse Girl—“Yes.” First Nurse Giri—“Do you like it?” Second Nurse Girl—“Like it? Why, it is right in front of @ police station.”—Tit-Rite