Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, May 12, 1895, Page 11

~* A REGAL ORIENTAL COURT Witnessing an Imporing Oeremonial in & Sultan’s Palace, DRANK TO THE HEALTH OF UNCLE SAM An American's Account of the Crowning of Tanku Ibruhim, a Seventeen-Year- 01d Hoy, Helr Apparent to the Throne of Johore. Copyright, 1895, by Rounceville Wildman, United States Consul, Singapore. Tunku Ibrabim was just past 17 when his father, Sultan Abubaker, chose to recognize him as his helr and crown prince of Johore. From the day when the little prince had been deemed old enough to leava his mother and the Women's palace until the day he had entered the native artillery as a lieu- tenant he had been schooled and trained by the English missionaries and the Tuan Kadi, or Mohammedan high priest, as becomes the son of =o {llustrious a father. Tunku Ibrahim had made one trip to Eng- land when he was 15 years old, and with his little cousin the tunku or Prince Othman had dined with the queen at Windsor. 80, when the sultan returned from a long stay at Carlsbad and found that the sultana was dead and that Ibrahim had shot up into & man, he sald: “I am getting to be an old man and may @le at any time. 1 will call all my nobles and people to the palace and they shall see me place the crown on Ibrahim’'s head Then it I die, he will rule, and the British will not take his country from him, as long as he is wiso and kingly."” ‘Whereupon his highness sent out Invita- tions to the governor and ail the foreign tried to explain the great American doctrine of “Jeftersonian simplicity.” He would have shrugged his narrow shoulders, which would have meant “When you are among Romans you should do as Romans do.' 1 am not golng to describe the great draw- Ing room with its treasure of art and decora- tion, in which we awalited his highness’ com- Ing, as I have done %0 in a former article, but I am going to take you directly through the mass of orlental drapery into the throne room, where were gatered the nobility of the little sultanate. Amid the crash of music and the booming of guns the sultan took his seat in one of the gllded chalrs on the dals, with the English governor on his left. Ranged about the furnished walls of the great room, several files deep, were the nobility of the kingdom, the ministers of state and the officers of the army and navy, the space back of them being filled with Chinese mandarins and towkays, «nd rich na- tive merchants in their plcturesque costumes, In front of the nobility, standing in the form of a square, were the sons of the Datos, each bearing golden, jewel-studded chogans, spears, krises and maces, Inside the square stood the fitteen consuls. Back of the throne were four young princes, two bearing each the golden, bejeweled krise of the Malay, another the golden sword of state, and the fourth the scimitars of the prophet. THE YOUNG PRINCE. Up to the steps of the throne came the young prince, dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of artillery, with the royal order of Darjab Krabat ablaze with jewels on his breast. He was slightly tailer than his father, the sultan, straight, graceful and handsome, with big brown eyes and strongly marked features. He was nervous and agitated and his lips trembled as he bent on one knee and kissed his highness' hand. Above our heads in the gilded walls, be- hind a grated opening, were the women of the court. We could see their black eyes as they peered curiously down. It was only when the dato mentrl or prime minister stood up and asked his people If they wished the young tunku to be thelr future lord, that we could hear their shrill volces mingling with the “suku, suku,” (we wish it, we wish it) of the men. THE YOUNG PRINCE BEFORE HIS FATHER. consuls iIn Singapore to be his guests and witness the crowning of his son. JOURNEYING TO THE PALACE. We started in quaint little box-like car- riages, called gharries, long before the fierce Malayan sun had raised above the palms, accomplishing the fourteen miles across the beautiful island in little over an hour. The diminutive Deli ponies, not larger than Newfoundland dogs, broke into a run the mo- ment we closed the lattice doors, and it was all their half-naked drivers could do to keep their perches on the swaying shafts. When we arrived at the little halt Malay, half Chinese village of Kranji, on the shores of the famous old straits of Malacca, our ponies were panting with heat, and the sun beat down on our white cork helmets with a quivering, naked intensity. Close up to the shore we found a long, keen boat manned with a dozen Malays in canary colored suits. An_ aide-de-camp in a gorgeous uniform of gold and blue came forward and touched his forehead with the back of his brown palm, and said in good English: “His highness awaits your excellence.” We stepped into the boat. The men lightly dipped their spear-shaped paddles in the tepid water, the rattan oarlocks squeaked shrilly and the light prow shot out into the strait. We could see the Instana or palace close down to the opposite shore with the royal standard of white, with black star and crescent In its center, floating above it. For a moment I felt as though I had in- vaded some dream land of my childhood. THE ENTOURAGE OF A SULTAN. As our boat drew up to the iron pler that extended from the broad palace steps out into the straits the guns from the little fort on the Nill above the town boomed out a wel- come and the flags of our countries were run to the top of the pole. A squad of native soldiers presented arms and we were conducted up the stone steps to the cool, dim corridors of the reception or walting room. Malays In red fezzes and silken sarongs that | hung about their legs like skirts conducted us along a marble hall to our rooms in a wing | of the palace. Crowds were already gathering outside on the palace grounds, and we could look down | from our windows and watch them as we | bathed, dressed and drank tea. | The Chinese in their holiday pantaloons and shirts of pink, lavender and blue silk out- | numbered all the other races, for, strange as | it may seem in the Malay Kingdom, the only | independ:nt one left in the world. its sultan | numbers among his 250,000 or 300,000 sub- Jects 175,000 Chinamen. They are as loyal and | a great deal more {ndustrious than the Malays and many of them, styled Baboos, do not even know their native tongue. The Malays, dressed in gaily colored sar- ongs and bajus (Jackets), with little rimless caps on thelr heads, squatted on thelr heels and chewed betelnut with eyes halt closed and mouths distended. The Arab traders and shopkeepers were grouped about in little knots, gravely con versing and watching the flles of gharr carriages and even rickhaws that were bring- ng Malay Unkus, princes not of the royal blood, Datos, peers, holy men and rich Chi- nese mandarins to the steps that led up to the plaza before the throne room. THE ROYAL RESIDENCE The palace was two stories high, long and narrow. The interior rooms were separated from the outer walls by wide, airy corridors. The latticework windows were without glass and were arranged to admit the breezes fromn the ocean and ward Off the scorching rays of the equatorial sun. In these dusky corri- dors were long rattan chairs, divans and tables covered with refreshments, and along its walls were arranged weapons of war and chase, Japanese suits of straw armor, Java- npess shields and Malay krises and limbings. In a little court at the end of our corridor, where a fountain splashed over a clump of lotus flowers and blue water lilles, a long. | armed silver Wah-Wah monkey played with | A black Malay cat, that had a kink in its tail like the joint in a stovepips, and chased the clucking little gray lizards up the pol- Ished walls. The gorgeous alde stared in poorly concealed wonderment when he enterid to conduct us to grand salon at my plain evening dress sult, destitute of gold lace or decorations, but polite to say anything, and I hum- my uniformed colleagucs through rooms. | into the national anthem of Johore It is only the wives of the nobles that are secluded in the Istana Isaras, or women palaces according to Mohammedan law; the women of the poor are as free as the poor of the more civilized countries of Europe. They bask in the sun with their brown babies on their laps, or wander among the cocoanuts that always surround their palm thatched homes, happy and contented, with no thought for the morrow. The trees furnish them their food, and a few hours before their looms of dark kamooning wood each weck keeps them supplied with their one artic of dress—the sarong They never heard of the bible, are very religious, and at sunrise and sun- set, at the deep-toned boom of the hollow log that hangs before their little thatched mosques, tbey fall on thelr faces and pray to “Allah, the all merciful and loving kind.” When the crown prince had stepped mod- estly back among his brothers and cousins a holy man in green robes and turban came for- ward and read an address in Arabic. He re- cited the glories of the prophet, the promises of the Koran and then told of the ancient greatness of Johore—how it once ruled the great peninsula that forever points like a lean, disjointed finger down into the heart of the greatest Archipelago of the world—how its ruler was looked up to and made treaties with by the kings of Europe—of the coming of the thieving Portuguese and the brutal Dutch—of the dark, bloody years when the deposed desc-ndants cf the once proud em- perors of Johore turned to piracy—of the new days that commenced when that great Eng- lishman, Sir Stamford Raffles, founded Singa- pore—down to the glorious reign of their present just ruler, Abubaker. The brilliant audienc> listened with bated breath to the dramatic recital of their na- tion’s story, and even we, who did not under- stand a word, were impressed by thelr flushed faces and eager att:ntion, and when the band in the columned corridor beyond broke forth and the vast concourse outside took up the shouts of fealty that began within, I, for one, felt an almost irresistible desire to Join in the shouts and do honor to the kindly 0ld sultan and his graceful son. After his highness had spoken, through the mouth of his prime minister, to the nobles and commended his son to thelr care we all but they crowd:d forward and congratulated him in the names of our respective countries, IMPERIAL ENTERTAINMENT. We filed through the grand salon, with Its luxurious medley of divans, tapestries and rugs, through a great hall whose walls were THE SULTAN OF JOHORE, Bung with berole sized paintings of the Fng lish royal family, down a flight of steps, across the marble reception room and intg the open doors of the royal dining room From its polished ceiling of black billion wood hung great white puukshs, which hait- nude Indlans on the outside kept gently sway- ing back and forth In the center of the vast table golden urn filled with delicate ferns and dragon orchids. Against a great plate glass mirror, at the far end, rested massive salvers of gold engraven with the arms of Johore, and in Its flareless depths shone the Jewels that decked the entering throng and the splendid service of plate that dazzled our eyes. Around his highness' throat was a collar of dlamonds and on bis hands and in the decora- stood a maiden-hair tions that covered his breast were diamonds, emeralds and rubles of almost priceless value. Each button of his coat and low-cut vest wa a diamond, and from the front of his rimless cap waved a plume of diamonds. The dinner throughout was European, save for the one national dish—curry, Every Malay, from the poorest fisherman along the mangrove-fretted lagoon to the chet of his highness' kitchen, justly boasts of the excellency of his curry and the number of sambuls he can make. AN EASTERN MENU. First came a golden bowl filled with rice s white and as light as snow, then another in which was a gravy of yellow curry powder, choice bits of fowl and plump fresh slices of eggplant. Then came the sambuls or con- diments, more than forty varieties in little circular dishes of Japanese ware on big silver trays. There were fish rowe, ginger and dried fish, or “Bombay Duck,” duck eggs hashed with spices, chutney and peppers, grated cocoanut, anchovies and browned crumbs, chicken livers, fried bananas, barley sprouts, onfons and many more that were mixed and stirred into the spongey rice, until your taste was baffled and your senses be- wildered. We knew that the curry was coming, so we passed courses that were as expensive and rare in this equatorial land as the fruit of the Durians would be in New York—mut- ton from Shanghal, turkey from Sam, beet from Australla and oysters from far up the river Muar. We felt that besides being a pleasure to ourselves It was a compliment to our royal host to partake generously of his national dish, “This service,” sald the old Tuan Hakim or chief justice, pointing to the gold plate oft which we were dining, “ls the famous Ellinborough plate that once belonged to that strange woman, Lady Eliinborough. His highness attended the auction ot ner thingh in Scotland. Do you see the little Arabic character on the rim of each? It is the late sultana’s name. “His highness telegraphed to her for the money to pay for it, and she telegraphed back $200,000, with the request that her name be engraved on each. Then she presented them to her husband. The sultana was very rich in her own right and left the sultan over $2,000,000 when she died.’” Throughout the long dinner the native band played the airs of Europe and America intermixed with bits of weird Malayan song. After we had lighted our cigars from the golden censer, the British governor arose and proposed the health of the sultan and the young helr apparent. His highness raised his glass of pineapple juice to his lips In acknowledgment and said, smilingly to me as the prime minister said (I magic words that stirs every Englishman's heart: “The Queen!" “Your people think all Orlentals very bad.” I protested. ‘0, yes, you do, that is why you €end so many missionaries among us. But,” he went on pleasantly, “look around my table. Not one of my court has touched the wine. A Mohammedan never drinks, Can you say as much for your people?” Then he raised his glass once more to his lips and said quietly, while his eyes twinkled at my confusion. “Tell your great president that Abubaker, sultan of Johore, drank his health in simple pineapple juice. As the sun sank behind the misty dome of Mount Pulel we embarked once more at the broad palace steps in the royal barges amid the booming of guns and the strains of the international—"God save the Queen—My Country '"Tis of Thee,” and bared our heads to the royal standard of Johore that floated so proudly above the palace, thankful for this short peep Intd the heart of an Oriental court, —_——— GONSIP ABOUT NOTED MEN, A young German lady of rank, possessed of great personal charms and singularly winning manners, the daughter of a prominent politi- cian, herself now a happy wife and mother, once beguiled Moltke, who was paying a brief visit to her father's country house in Silesia, into writing something in her autograph album. This was the entry: L vergeht, Wahrheit_besteht, v. MOLTKE, Feldmarschall. Say: A lie must fail Truth will pre il The wily damsel now determined to bide her time until she should be able *: match Moltke's dictum. When her family had again settled down in their Berlin quarters for the winter season Prince Bismarck called one afternoon and she showed him her book, calling his attention to what the great strategist had written, adding artlessly: “Do you think the same, dear prince? Perhaps you would like to add your comment? And on the same page? Oh, thank you so very much! And may I send the volume to the Wilhelmstras: * ¢ * The chancellor next day returned the book—now a greatly treasured family possession—and this is what he had written beneath the contribution of his colleague: Wohl_weiss jch dass in jener Welt Die Wahrheit stets den Sieg behalt, Doch gegen luge dieses Lebens Kampft selbst ein Feldmarschall vergebens, v. BISMARCK, Reichskanzler. Very roughly Englished, the chancellor's lines might run something like this: In future worlds, beyond the pale The truth is strong and shall prevail; But ’gainst our mundane lics, "tis plain, Field marshals even fight in vain. Willim Deemer, a hero of the Mexican war, who saved the lives of thousands of American soldiers, is earning a scanty living by washing windows and polishing door knobs in South Bethlehem, Pa. It was at Chapultepec. “Over 12,000 Americans,” says the Philadelphia Record, “were quartered in and about a large building. Walking through the woods one day Deemer dis- covered a heavy fuse charged with powder. He cut a section a yard long out of it to prevent Its carrying fire and then quietly followed up the line. Presently he dis- covered up in a high tree the red of a Mexican uniform. The forelgn soldier saw Deemer at the same time, but the latter drew a bead quickly and fired. The Mexican came tumbling down from the tree a corpse. The farther end of the fuse was at the bottom of the tree upon which the Mexican sat. Then Deemer followed the fuse back toward the American camp. It led to the cellar of the bulding, where the Mexicans had imbedded 30,000 pounds of powder, to which the fuse was attached, He at once informed his captain, and the same day General Winfleld Scott sent for Deemer, thanked him personally, gave him ninety days' furlough, $65 in gold and furnished a bodyguard of ten men, who accompanied Deemer upon a visit to the City of Mexico. The hero is now 73 years old and gets a pension of $12 a month. Bishop Whipple of Minnesota says the Dakota Indians once held a war dance near a mission house. He went to \Vabasha, the chief, and said: ‘“Wabasha, you asked me for a missionary and teacher.” I gave them to you. [ visit you, and the first sight is this brutal scalp dance, I knew the Chippe- way whom your young men have murdered His wife is crying for her husband; his children are asking for their father. Wabasha, the Great Spirit hears his children cry. He Is angry. Some day he will ask Wabasha: ‘Where is your red brother? ' The old chief smiled, drew his pipe from his mouth and said: “White man go to war with his own brother in the same country; kill more men than Wabasha can count in all his life. Great Spirit smiles; says 'Good white man! He has my book I love him very much for him by and by.' man. He has I have a good place The Indian is a wild no Great Spirit book. He kills one man, has a scalp dance. Great Spirit is mad rnd says ‘Bad Indian! 1 put him in a bad place by and by Wabasha don't believe it!" “Among the eccentricities of the late Rich- ard Vaux," says the Philadelphia Record, “‘was his strong aversion for the use of bank books or checks. The famous ex-mayor had a bank account, of course. In fact, he had several of them, but he never driw upon them fn the regular way, through the medium of checks. Whenever any one came to him with a bill, Mr. Vaux, would pay |1t in a very unique way. The back of an old envelope or a fragment of paper of any kind or size would serve for a che k, and upon this he would scribble the amount of the bill, the name of the creditor and his own characteristic signature. He very frequently used a strip from the margin of a news- paper. The tellers at the banks all knew of Mr. Vaux's strange custom, and none of Mr. Vaux's home-made checks were ever turned down."” ““I was talking with Dr. Holmes one day,” say! writer in the Interlor of Chicago, “when the conversatiop turned upon his Seasonable Things FOR The Summer Season. During the heated term, personal comfort is a prime consider- ation. Thcese who cannot go away and enjoy the cooling brecezs of a lake resort, must make at home as much comfort as is possible with the means at hand. Let us suggest a few things: Hammocks. China The out-door luxury for matron or g maid, child o father. All sty M tt Mexican g knitted “or woven; a lngS. small sizes for children alana Ham- mocks for ladies. Prices, 75c, $1 and up. Bamboo Porch Blinds. In sizes 6 feet, 8 feet and 10 fee inexpensiv as only the Chinese know how to make. wide; light, durable and They soften the light, yet cooling breeze, Porch Cushions. Of plaited grass, cooler tha: And yet as soft. 10c¢. each room without a t admit the awake or asleep, styles of carriages, n a pillow See our window. The summer carpet. have a thoroughly cool and refreshing MATTING The fragrance is cooling and it ¢ No house can washed and kept clean without trouble. Milk and water does the work, Baby Cabs Let the little ones live out of doors, We can provide all adjustable with cushions and umbrellas, AND UP. ROOM. Carpets. Fine AXMINSTERS and GOBELINS at the price of ordinary Brussels car- pets. We cannot often offer you so much value at such a small price. Handsome line of parlor patterns with or without borders; new, perfect and desirable goods, ouly $1 per yard. On show Monday. Japanese Rugs. Another lot just received. They are not as good as the Turkish, but the styles are as good, exact copies in de- slgns and colors; two qualities, 9x12 $11 and $14. n be Orchard & Wilhelm Carpet Co. classmates who were living. ow, there's Smith,’ he said. ‘His name will be honored by every school child in the land when I have been forgotten a hundred years. He wrote “My Country, 'Tis of Thee.”” If he had said ““Our Country” the hymn would net have been immortal, but that “my” was a master stroke, Every one who sings the hymn at once feels a personal ownership in his native land. The hymn will last as long as the country.’ " General Fitzhugh Lee, who has just been appointed an_internal revenue collector for the western district of Virginia, is a nephew of General Robert E. Lee, and has for many years been a conspicuous figure in the public life of Virginia. “For nearly two years, says the Baltimore Sun, “‘the president ha been desirous of conferring upon General Lee some office. Not many months ago he was offered a foreign mission, which he de- clined. He could have had several desirable positions early in the administration, but then, being a candidate for the United States senate, he declined all. Since then there have been few or no positions which the president felt would be agreeable to General Lze if tendered him.' JOPLEY'S VICTORY ~ OVER DEATH Jopley is one of the best hearted fellows in the world. He will sympathize with you when you lose what little money you have left just before you decided to speculate on the Board of Trade and bought wheat when you should have sold. If you are sick Jop- ley will come over and stay with you and nurse you and tell stories to you till you get well just from eheer fatigue from Jopley. 1f you dio Jopley Is the first man to arrive at your funeral and he will remember more good things about you than your most In- timate friend ever .suspected. He will even borrow the last $5 bill vou haopea to havo in your pocketbook, and when he does he is so careful about injuring your sensitive feelings about the loss of the money that he will never mention the fact again in your presence. And yet, in spite of all the almirable traita, Jopley is one of the most inveterate liars that ever drew a long bow in a contest of wit. He is one of the most e'aborate, pro- fuse, picturesque and original liars that ever imitated the famed imagination of Baron Munchausen. He s newspaper reporzer, too, or, rather, he was until every publisher he ever worked for discovered his unfortunate tendency to entangle facts wita fiction to such a hopeless degree that nis stories were utterly unreliable. Being deprived of the opportunity of earning his hoard and clothes and spending money on & reportorial run, he naturally drifted into the law, for which he seemed peculiarly adapted ' He never any higher in the professiot than a pra tioner in_a police courf, und his fees were small aud far between.! ‘When he was not defending a tramp on the chkrge of vagranc Jopley was generally to' 'he found sitting around the court roont' tellng lies to the janitor and the turnkey,’ One warn: afternoon Jipléy'was waiting for a client that gave profnise ot a fee som thing lasger than 50 cents ‘whea an oldish sort of man crifted thiraly the open docr and sat down next to tAw jahitor. “Well, any'hing new! toay " oldish &ort of man of thi janitor. Nawthin new,” lacéwically mumbled the Janitor. Jemar “All quiet on the Potdmde, suggested the oldish sort of man.''ARd then he looked at Jopley, who sat regarding him with indo- lent interest. Jopley sésmedl a sympathetic listener, and he continwed. "I rather expect you was hardly old énough to remember when the whole country got so tired every day of hearing that there was nothing new on’ the Potomac.” Jopley assumed an air of superiority and intimated that he remembered very well, “Do, eh?' 1 didn' suppose you was old, but,” he added, apologetically, “‘perhaps you are older than you look, eh? Jopley's professional instinct was in arms in a moment. Of course he wasn't going to let an oldish sort of a vagrant appear to | remember more than he did “You bet I'm older'n I look,” said Jopley. “Why, I was a reporter on the old Cincin- nati Enquirer when the war broke out. | Then's when 1 got acquainted with Whitelaw Reid. He wasn't editor of the New York Tribune then. He was just an_ordinary correspondent, and when the war broke out he was sent to the front as a war corre- spondent. He went out on the same train se asked the | that T did.” The oldish sort of man twisted uneasily youthful a retailer of personal reminiscence as Jopley. “It was a terrible struggie,” continued the old man, “and I don't suppose the country will ever see another onelike it. It was all foolishness, too. 1If the south had only well enough alone the war mightn't have happened. It was the old slavery quarrel | that brought on the fight.” | Jopley nodded but said nothing, thus giving | the oldish sort of man an opportunity to gain | a lap or two ahead of him. | “The slavery struggle was pretty hot along about the time the Nebraska-Kansas strug- | gle was goin’ on in congress and over the | country. It allus seemed to me that Stephen A. Douglas—"" fere Jopley caught up with the old man. ou speak of Stephen A. Douglas,” he said. “I remember him well. 1 was working on the old Peoria Transcript when Douglas ran for congress for the first time. That was right after the Mexican war—" “What do you know about the Mexican war?" sneered the oldish sort of man. “What do I know about the Mexican war?" returned Jopley, now on his mettle. *I know this about it. 1 was sent out with the troops raised by the government right after the greasers crossed the Rio Grande. I went overland with the column that marched from Fort Leavenworth to Fort Brown, more than 1,000 miles. I was with the old New York vening Post then—was sent out as the only special correspondent from New York, and I wrote the first story about the battle of Buena Vista and the fight at Palo Alto and the bombardment of Vera Cruz that ever appeared in a New York paper. Sent them up the coast to San Francisco, and from there they went around Cape Horn in a sailing vessel and were printed in the Post four ‘months afterward as the latest dis- patches from the seat of war. Old Cullen Bryant cracked me up for my work a good many times after I got back to New York." The oldish sort of man was almost silenced but he made one more feeble effort to re- cover his lost ground. “Well, I fit in the Mexican war myself, and T rode beside old Winfield Scott when we went into the City of Mexico. Old Win- fleld often spoke of the fact years afterward. He said many a time that It was the proud- est moment of his life. I can remember nim just as well as if it was yesterday,” and the old man closed his eyes in order to let his mind dwell upon a mental picture of the hero of the Mexican war. Then he bright- ened up a bit and continued: “I lost both my legs at the battle of Buena Vista.” Jopley was floored, but only for an instant He saw that the oldish sort of man had a evidently not disposed to be worsted by u,l let BPECCECDPI VT LCETOI O IR ORI OCR OO OOV VOO IOPCIFOORIDCOODIOITOD pair of perfectly natural legs, real flesh and blood, albeit a trifle shaky. The old man never turned a hair, but blinked away at Jopley with a grizzied face. “Do you remember old Zach Taylor at the battle of Buena Vista?" asked Jopley. “Yep,”” answered the oldish sort of man. “I was serving a battery all during the fight, and I'm the man who was teld by old Zach to give the ornery greasers a little more cannister.” “You don't say so?" returned Jopley with interest. “Well, I'm the man that carried the flag of truce to Santa Anna with the demand for his surrender.” “I guess you're right,” sald the ¢ld man, “1 saw you go." look of satisfaction on his “Yes,'” Jopley continued, “I carried the flag of truce. Santa Anna refused to sur- render. That settled the greasers. Old Zach renewed the fight and before many hours lots of the Mexicans had been sent to fry In hades," u bet,” said the old man, “I saw 'em 80 “But, after all,” continued Jopley in a re- flective strain, “‘the fight at Buena Vista wasn't a circumstance to the battle of New Orleans in the war of 1812. I was there and the night before the fight I slept in & tent right next to Andrew Jackson. Jackson was a personal friend of mine. In fact, we had been boys together. We were in the same classes, and when he went to West Point I | commenced to study law in the office of Henry Clay. Andy always said to me—I always called him Andy, for short—he often ald to me that I missed it in not becoming a soldier. Perhaps I did; but then, I started to tell you about the battle of New Orleans. I was down there as correspondent for the Inter Ocean and I had a tent all to myself right next to Andy Jackson's. Andy woke me up about 4 o'clock In the morning and we went out and reconnoitered the situation. He had posted a long line of Gatling guns right across the only stretch of ground on which the Britishers could march toward his camp, and had concealed them with bales of cotton, When the battle opened the slaugh- ter was something terrific. I kept the tele- graph wire between my tent and Chicago— bad a special wire running right into the ' rel i : : “Why, on his seat, but he returned (o the attack, | oMice—hot for six hours and printed the only | disappoln! The Furniture and Garpet Business Done on modern methods, modern goods at moderate prices is a com- be the HORRIBLE &% Free! Free! Two Reception Chairs up- holstered in Plush Corduroy or Silk Tapestry with every complete pleto success. If you want a Gs oline Stove remem- ber there is only one stove on earth that is Absolutely Safe, We have it in the Jewell Ask toseeit, It may means of saving you from a THIS WEEK. ALASKA REFRIGERATORS Are known the world over as the best on earth, We sell them at the same as some We have them in thirty-five styles, from $4.25 up. D.n't take Get the Alaska. Send for our Refrigerator Gatalogue. Carpets- Ingrains, Tapestrys, Body Brussels, Velvet Carpets, Moguettes, Axminsters, Mattings and Rugsin endiess variety. PRICES Guaranted the LOW We Sell for CASH or EASY PAYMENTS, ask for a snide article. any chances. One Price To All, , George, it you will ullow me to t vur outfit at the Omaha Furniture and Carpet Co, ACCIDENT outfit MRS complete list of the killed on both sides that was sent north, to work against, Forbes, Johnny Cockrell, Fred Villiers and a whole raft of the boys, and all of 'em good eyes peeled for news. sorry, though, tha the end of the fight.” “Why man, Fred didn't iniscen lips. considerably dazed by the which had poured from Jop- a dynamite shell about two hours b fight was over, and it made me 50 lald right down and died on the ——— The new water works & at Edin park, Cf ficial stru e Had some pretty stiff men too, Tlere was Archibald Remington, Jim Creelman, had their 1w alwy 1 couldn't stay and asked the old flood of you stay?” ? AR 44 : DO C PO PORCH PRIV ORI OPCOPOCDI PP PR PDEL DT RO PN RCODODTOD