The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 20, 1897, Page 26

and completely ignored him. 26 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JUNE 20, 1897. People who have made a careful study of the coffee question are now looking to- ward the Hawuiian Islands for the solu- | tion of the problem of cheap coffee for the | United States in the next filty yearsor | more. It is not generally known that there will soon be a big annual supply of coffee irom the islands for the markets of the world and that when the product begins 1o be shipped it will grow in & geometrical ratio as the new trees come to maturity and as the old ones increase in produc- tiveness. Inquiries at the Custom-house in San Francisco s few days ago revealed the fact that nearly all the coffee used in this State comes from Guatemaia and Salva- | Aside from that which is imported | from tnese two countries a little fancy Ara- | bian and some Java gets to this market, but the quantity 's almost inappreciable. M scarce as to hardly de-erve mention as being in the market. Oue of tne best-informed men in the islands ou the coffee question is W. G. Irwin, who is now spending a few months ii this City on a vacation, Speaking on the subject a few days ago, he said: “Itis wonderful how the erown lands fit | for coffee have been taken up all along the road from Hilo to the Voleano House up in the lava districts. It has been found | that the open spaces or open lands are | even better than the dense forests that were at first cleared for the coffee planta- tions, and there must be fully 5000 good acres for the industry still available. 1t is not a good thing for men with no money | to embark i, for they are sure to fail. A | man who goes to the islands to go into | the coffee iusiness ought to have enough money to pay for ciearing his lands, and tnis will cost about $40 an acre. The planter then wants enough to live on for five | s until his crop bears, and enoush to | pay the interest on his investment, for if | he comes with only a few hundred doliars he is almost sure to fail in his undertak- i a is so everal hundred thrifty young men | from all paris of the worid have settled in the rich districts in the past four or five | ¥ and they will soon realize hand- some incomes from their investments. This 1s true in a large measure of the Hamakua disirictas well as of the regions about the volcano. *‘Hundreds of tetters of inquiry are com- ing to the various business houses of Honolulu from ali parts of t'e world. | We try to impress on ali who inqnire that ue lands will bear the most thorough in- | vestigation, but we tell people not to come without mouey. I suppose there 18 fully $2,000,000 now invested in coffee on all the islands and a great deal more capital is seeking investment. Thereisa two-story mill in Honolulu for cleaning the berries and sorting them into pearl, extra prime, prime and cullings. Things | of this character will develop more and | more as time runs on. It will not be long | until more people are engaged in coffee | than in any other enterprisein the islands. The business is particularly atiractive 1o men of small means, for nearly all the gorges and little valleys are susceptible of cultivation for coffee, whereas it requires a large tract of land to be of any service in the sugar business. In the isiands | there are a great many men in the coffes business with only ten or twenty acies, | and the returns from a small aiea are en- couraging enough to justify the man of | family to undertake the venture, with a | retiy good Lope that he will come out all right in few years. “I do not want to zive out too much | hope or to induce people to come to the | isiands and embark in business they do | not understand, but I am of the belief that there is not a more encouraging busi- ness gnywhere now than the coffee indus- | try if it is undertaken in a business-like way by an indusirious man with a iair | amount of capital.” | Itis said there will be & greatdealof | coffee shipped from the islands this year, } and that these shipments will be foliowed by & great deal more next year, for many trees come to maturity in 1898, 1t is in- teresting to study some of the charscter- | istics of the new industry with reference | to the adaptaoility of the soils of the | various districts to its successful prose- cution. None of the commercial features of the Hawaiian Islands sre more promising than the development of the coffes indus- | try, which is barely in its infancy. With | a vast extent of rich and varied soil the possibilities of eoffee cuiture are almo: un'imited. | Wirle the output for the entire group of Hawaiian Islands is as yet so smail that few people away from Oahu and Hawaii have ever tasted the beverage made from native berries, it is a fact that many vis- tors at Hilo and Honolulu have gone into ecstacies over the delicious coffee made from berries grown in the famous Puna and Kona aistricta. President Wight of the TIn‘erisland camship Company hs lately bsen doing all in his power to aid Robert Bycroft and | A NATIONAL STRUGGLE The Most Novel Ball Tour- nament of Be Playe Francisco Central Park had an occupied appear- | ance—something rare for that place on a weekday—and while I gazed with curios- at the half-open gate a young girl | tripped up the street as though she were | going to an important somewhere and sed i i pas: 5 asked the man on the other stopping me with the ferocity of his I nc allowing me to enter. Over on the other side ot led, and he took his glances away, the tail fence a great deal of calling and shouting and screaming mingled with ex- cited cries and queer shrieks. “Gracious! but May has a voice,” said the girl who bad come in ahead of me, pulling off ber gloves and drawing numer- ous wicked-looking pins from her dainty straw hat. “Just hear that vell.” “What are they doinz 2" I asked. ! Sbe looked with a pitying glance in the | direction of my feet. | “Why,” she exclaimed, *don’t you| know I shook my head. “Basket ball,”” she said. “We’re prac- ticing. Going to play a real game.’’ “A real game!” Stie nodded her head violent! ing in a liitle hystericky way. Yep, go- ing to play with the New Englanders—a team from New England.” So I should have imagined from the name. ““They played witk: the Vassar girls and beat them,” she said, importantly, ‘‘and | with another team, 100. Now they’re go- ing to have a tournament on this coast and we're going to play them first.” “Whereabouts?’ I asked, getting inter- | ested. ‘‘Here,” she said, pointing in the direc- tion whence the feminine noises issued. “Hear the girls now. I must go.” She cavght up her dressand showed a dainty white skirt and a pair of pretty feet, and hurried away. And she was going to play basket-ball. Well, it would be worth the time just for a glimpse of her. And so 1 went toward the noise. The | field was very dusty, and the wind that hurled itself over the fence was having quantities of amusement with the bits of wood and hay and stubble and with the crowd of girls that hurried hither and thither inamad chese for a ball. With hatr flying and eyes shining and wild lauguter they played their merry games, stopping now and again to hold their sides and catch their breath. Their cloth- ing was all dusty. (It consisied of bioom- ers, that costume of the past, which bas dwindled out of sight from its sheer inan- ity, and would have done so sooner if it had not shocked us so delightfully.) Lit- tle dark biou-es and tight-fitting caps and | gaiters completed their attire, and very comiortable and very inartistic they all looked. “Let's rest,”” some one shouted. Down went baskets and balls and away went the girls for the benches. The gen- tleman at the gate hurried over to them. ““We're going to rest,” they said. You haven’t done anything else,” he expostulated. *‘You never will learn. But. they kept their subborn little figures where they had placed them rnd laughed and chatted and fanned them- selves and examined each other’s jewelry there was laugh- | Then snother fizure came nurrying to- the Age to d in San pathetic manner, which betokens that one has run against a stone wall and can’t move it an inch. “Oh, it’s great fun to play,” t'ey ex- claimed to me a+ I came up to them. *“We’ve been here all day. This is our first trial.” “‘Are you Englanders?” **Of course,” one of them said proudly, tossing back her dark head with its sun- burned face. ‘‘The ladies of San Francis- co chose us because we are all between 17 all going to play the New and 20 and can run and will play in bloomers.” The crowd all nodded their heads in acquiescence. **Did thev choose any of you because you | knew about the gzame?’’ I asked innoc nt= ly, as one thirsting for knowledge. They looked at me re proachfuily. “Of course we can play. We've all played with girls’ teams at school ana some of usout of school. Oh, the Stan- | fords have a jolly team.” | I like the Berkeley team the best,” said a quiet blue-eyed miss, gazing up at toe cloud-rimmed sky. “They put up a much better game and are truer players.” “Don’t you think youw'd better begin again?” said another voice hurriedly, as | tho signs of a storm appeared wheu the | two girls looked at each other. *‘Yes, I suppose 80" said the dark- haired girl, “‘because some people don't know much about the game.” The other gave her a withering glance. | ward us—a figure with the face of the wirl I bad seen at the gate, but hatless, glove- less and skirtless. “I'm ready; let’s play ball.” They ran away again, chattering as only girls can chatter, and for the next | few moments did nothing but raise dust and scream while the tall passed aim- lessly through the air, The man at the gate looked lonely. “I'm supposed to direct the game,” he said. “That’s what I'm here for.”” “But you cun't do anything so far away,” I looking from him to the girls in the distance. *“Can’t help it,” he answered, started He walked away with a sigh and took up his place at the gate again with a | sides, | suits. in to teach them, and they wouldn’t do a thing unless I siood at the gate to keep other pioneers in the coffee industry to get capital interested in raising the ber. ries, and he has succeeded fairly well. He and others who have carefully studied the question believe it will not be many vears until coffee will be one of the most important industries—probably the most important—in the islands. There are many reasons why the vast tracts of luxu- EDGE 'OF A riant acres adjacent to mighty Kilauea and the great lave beds of Hawaii should | be cleared and cultivated for coffee. The chief reason for the great promise of the Hawatian coffee is that it requires less care in its growing than in other varts of the world where it is grown with success. The soil is deep and rich and the seasons favor bo:h man and the coffee people out. I've got all the rulesin my pocket and they bave nary a rule.”’ “But—" I exclaimed. *01, they’ll get through all right,” he said. “Trusta women for that; and be- you know, they have women to play against. I'm not worrying, only— well, I'd like to do my duty.” “When will they play their first game ?” | “In July some time. The Eastern team will arrive next week, and begin to vrac- tice. You ocught to see them; they’re players for you. Eastern girls are differ- ent from the Westerners.” “How?" ““Well, out here, when the Stanford girls played the Berkeley girls, they wouldn’t even allow the reporters in because their co-tumes consisted of bloomers. But these same girls go down to the seashore and don’t think anything of wearing bathing- But the girls in the KEast play basket ball. teams and the colieges have theirs, and they play nraiched zames before the pub- lic Just as the boys play football.” “A re these girls going to stay here long, and when do they arrive?”’ I asked. “They won’t be interviewed,” he said, warningly. “They ail dislike Wastern journalism 1" He said it vindictively. 1 am positive it was his opinion and not theirs. Perhaps he feit at a disadvantage because 1he girls had refused to entertain him. Perhaps the weather irritated him, perbaps— “You see, the reporters will just go up there and write up how they chew gum The seminaries have their | plant. The great Hawaiian coffee belts re found, not amid swamps and regions that terrify man by the obstacles nature throws in his way, but in picturesque por- tions of the island near the marvels of Mauna Keaand not far from the shadows of mighty Mauna Loa. The climate is heaithful and thoroughly invigorating, and, as there are no snakes NEWLY PLANTED COFFEE | or poisonous insects in the dense forests | man has nothing to fear even amid the | fastnesses of the somber tropical forests |the possibilities in coffes culture for the | and | that abound. These forests, particularly | in the Hilo district about the Puna and | Kona regi and wonderful in the world. As rich as the valleys of the Nile, as luxuriant in the | | riotous profusion of growth as Ceyion, | they have no terrors of fever and malaris, venomous snakes and deadly centipedes. It is well known to connoisseurs that such products as pass for Mocha and Java 'n the American markets are not such at all, and that those zrades have aimost vanisbed from the face of the earth. The experts are looking toward Hawaii for the great bulk of superior grades of coffee for PLANTATION. | conditions of soil and degrees of heat. In the future, and it is the thoughtiul stu- dent of the Hawaiian situation who sees | next generation. 'VALUABLE FACTS ANENT COFFEE PLANTATIONS IN HAWAL With patience and modern methods the | best coffea in the world czn be grown in the Hawaiian Islands. Under ail circum- stances the industry requires great care, | and with the best success a crop cannot be produced until the third year, but it will require uutil the fifth year to make a Droper profit on the investment. A recent report from the Foreign De- partment of the Hawaiian Government states that experience has shown that the berries row bestatan elevat on of from 500 10 2600 feet above the sea level, though there are cases Where they have done well close to tne sea. Itis evident from the most cosual ex- amination of the soil of the islands that | nature has dome much for the coffee in | dustry. Coffee grows best in a loose, por- | ous s0il and never tirives in heavy, clayey ground or in other soil that holds water. | There is very little of such bheavy soil in | any of ibe 1slands. The voicanic char- acter of the soil throughout the country bas rendered vast aress pecuharly fit for raising coffee to gocd advantage. The report of the Foreign Office gives the | followinz interesting accoun: of coffee in | the islands: ! “It is very evident that coffee will thrive and give good results in varying these islands it grows and prodnces from very mearly at the sea level to the eleva- tion of 2600 feet. The highest elevation of bearing coffee known here is tweuty- | five miles from tne town of Hilo and in the celebrated Olaa district. “With such a range it is evident that in a tropical climate the cultivation of | coffee presents greater opporturnities for | an investor than otuer tropical products. “For years it was thought that coffee { would only erow to advantage in the Kona district of Hawai1. Practical experiment hasshown that 1t can be grown with suc- | cess in almost any part of the islands. | “The ovening up of the Olaa portion of | the Puna district by a wetl-macadamized | road leading irom Hilo to the volcano | may be regarded as the commencement of | tne coffee industry on a large scale on the | Hawaiian Islands. There are now over fifty plantations where six years ago there | was nothing but tancled and dense forest, “The Olaa land is Government property can be acquire!d under the land law. | There are stili 10,000 acres not taken up. | The proper development of the coffee | The location is very desirable, as there is | tivation, and for this reason the indutry affords a gence and systematic habits. , are the most picturesque | tree requires frequent and intetlizent cul- | direct communication with Hilo by sn ex- cellent road, and the crop can be realily ment | of Oahu, the built; when this takes place a far [ar, extent of land will be avail growing in this section of the countr, The soil in the Olaa district is deey and wonderfully prolitic. “Other portions of Puna also present many fertile lands, and coffee planta in those parts are coming to the iron; showing excellent results. A considers. bis number of investors have opened coffee piantations in them, ail of v, are doing excellentiy. These plantations, to the knowledge of the wriie., are, many of them, carried on out of the savings made by workers in Honolulu, who are thus preparing for themselves a provision for their early middle age. On theisiand of Hawaii are the great coffee districts Ola4, Puna, Kona and Hamakua, in each of which thriving coffee plantations are established, while tens of thousinds acres of the very finest lands are yet un- di-turbed. Government lands in these districts are being opened up for settle- as fast as circumstances will permit.” On tie island of Maui there isa larse area of excellent coffce lands available for ivation. The extensive lands of Keanae belong to the Government, and they will be opened for settlement as soon as the surveys are completed. On the famous island of Molokai the coffee industry is making great progress, and there are already several promising piantations in the leeward valleys. The same may be said of the ric: little island seat of the Government. Within sigbt of the old palace considers able capital has been invested in the busi- ness. As the case now stands the investor can find land for coffee-growing on the followingislands: Maui, Hawaii, Molokai, Oahu and Kauai. On Hawaii gocd ground is 10 be found on North and South Kona, Hilo, Puna and Hamakua. On the 1slands are many very fertile districts. In addition to the Government tracts re are many larze areas owned by private parties, and many ot these are for sale at all times. 1t is the policy of the Government to en- courage the settlement of its coffee lands by small and tarifty farmers, hence the amount of land granted io one person is limited. This prevents the power of monopoly being granted to the detriment of the people. s up othe Old glass bottles, whi less useless, are now gr 1 are more or und up and em- good field for people of intelli- | taken to the shipping point. Indeed, it | ploved as a substitute for sand in the | cannot be long before a railroad will be | prop: tion of mortar. ! and wear their hair, and put on lhn\r: bloomers, and the college girls won’t | maich with them.” | | “Ob.” I lau-hed, and understood, and | turned b-ck to discover what all the noise | was about. | Down in a heap in the middle of the | | lot, with feet—and it is best to say it— legs in the air, and tumbled heaas and | dust-begrimed faces here and there were | all that I could distinguish. | | “Some of them are hurt!” | | He shook his head. “That's just Hke s woman, 100,” he exclzimed, “as though a | | tumble like that could hurt anybody.” I watched them siowly gather them- | | selves out of the tangled mass and strug- | gle to their feet. | They came toward us brushing the dust from their clothing and wiping their faces. | “Now they want to go home,” said the | { man, bracing bimself against the wall for the ordeal that he felt in toe air. “We're tired,” they said, looking | straight at him, “and we're going to | dress.’” | Hegasped for breath and hall articu- lated, ““All right.” Then they hurried away laughing to | each other, leaving him in an impotent rag= and almost unable to speak. ! | *“Wuat do you suppose they will do?” ! he mourned at last. “Win,” I said. It oxsdthis surprise. “Well, this is | | only the beginning,” he said, a ray of | | hove creeving into his face. *Perhaps | | they’ll go to work real hard. Of course, | this is good exercise for them and they | learn not to be afraid of a tumble, but as | for winning—"" “Why,” I ventured, “they have begun iwen. “How?” “Haven't they won everything to-day?” | He looked at me a moment, smiling at, first a little doubtfully, and then, as the | full meaning dawned upon him, he walked | away without & word. I watched him silenily and then turned to go. Surely they would win if they played against the men. JEAN MoRRIS. Lighthouse in a Gh-urc!\. A large-sized ana perfect modei of a lighthouse was built inside the parish church of St. Mary's at Whitkirk, not far from Leeds. It was erected as the most fitting monument to the memory of the eminent civil engineer, John Smeaton, one of whose greatest works was the erec- tion of the Eddystone L'ghthouse. The lighthouse is built within the chancel, and the rock on which it stands bears the inscription: “In memory of John When, 1321, Abbot Stmeon Norman tower, 170 feet high, of Ely Cathedral, in the form of an octa- g°n, be crowned it with a lofty lantern to wuide travelers across the fens, needed especially when they were undramed, and under the restorations of this church tuis lantern has always been retained, and forms one of its most distinguishing features. | of eternity | any w ) el / = ——5_ ot ed e = HOW TO WRITE PL In the great sum and substance of chings one person is not worth much, sav- ing to himself. The circle of human life which rirples, widening, to the great sea never loses in force, never pauses to see what is lost. Lorimer Stoddard himself gave me that thought as we sat and talked on the great araughty stage and glanced into the gloom of the empty theater. vibrated still with his conceptions as lately piven voice on that stage—his cre- ations, his impressions, even his personal- ity were hovering about everything. And yet he sat there on an insecure camp-stool with his hat in his hand, very quiet, for he has a gentle manner, and with just a touch of dignity in his bear- ing. He looks like a boy—an inexperi- enced boy—with his slight figure and his black curls and the pale, thin face. | “How old would you think me?”’ and he smiled faintly—I could not imagine his laughing aloud or being boisterous in ot over 22" I replied. He shuok his bead gravely. “I shalileave tha: shrouded in mystery,” he said. *“But you are wrong. I was on the stage for ten years and I haye been writing plays for six.” Presently he continued, as he peered out at the rows and rows of seats| and then at the circiet of incandescent lights around the stage: *“Whether we are young or old, does it matter if we do our life’s work ? *‘Does it not affect the doing of it ?” He bowed. * " he said. “But the working of one’s own heart and soul along the line of his ambition is what brings about the true resuit. The little bappenings of daily life—those things which one chooses to do ana which have the subtle intluence on heart and brain— one’s self alone can understand and regu- late. For the world to censure or praise is not its right.” Watching bim as bhe spoke, with his head Lent and a slight frown shadowine his conntenance, I knew bim to be older, indeed, than I had dreamed—older in ex- perience, older in—well, in knowledge of | everrthing. “Ycur plays,” 1said when he paused. “Tell me of them.” He brightened perceptibly. *Ido not know how to tell you of them,” he said. “Manstield has played ‘Napoleon Bonaparte’ successfully for two seasons. You have all heard of ‘Tess of the d’Ubervilles’ and Mrs. Fisher’s great hit in New York. “‘The stock company of Augustus Pitou made a success of ‘Her First Love.’ Two of my plays were used ai the Empire Theater in New York for matinee attrac- tions, and Sidney Drew and his wife played ‘A Summer Storm’ during one season. This play, ‘The Question,” which The air about us | | seventh play of mine that has appeared AYS 'The Author of “The Ques- tion” and Other Plays Tells of . has just been produced in this City, is the on the boards. Some of these I am proud of and otbers—well, I am not guite so proud of.” He got up and walked to the footlights | and stood there a moment. Ail was silent | save now and then the faintsound ofa | hammer, the merry tune of a whistler ora | snatch of song from passing lipe. “This is inspiring!” he exclaimed., “How | could any one help loving it and | working for it and hoping for it? My | plays are part of ny life. They are nothi even as I am nothing, compared with | creation as a whole, and yet they are | everything to me. And in the law of nature nothing is lost. That is comfort- | ing, is it not?” Ifelt his spirit as it twined itself about | the idealitloved. I felt it in the quiver | of his well-modulated tones. A crushed | spirit is the weakest thing on God’s earth | —a conquering one the sirongest. I felt| Lis assurance of victory—his str ngth and his confidence—and my mind rose to | grasp them. | I write my plays,” said the author, re- | suming his seat, “very carefully, if I am | deeply interested, and always with special attention to the minutest details. Beiore | I begin I have my exits and entrances | laid sad the plot mapped out. Iwriteas | the French do. 1 know what Mr. Brown | will sav and what Mr. Green will renly; when Marv will come in, and so on. It1s quite aifferent from novel-writing, you know. In a novel you would say: ‘Mary | crossed to the window and stood there erying.’ In the play you have got to | fashion your Mary so that there will be | apparently. nothing for her to do but to | g0 to the window and weep. Her charac- | ter must conform to Ler actions, else there | is a discrepancy and the character is a | failure. Even the minor characters must be watched in that way. Every word they speak must influence their actions, the actions of the otkers and show plainly to | all eyes just what they are. “But in writing a play,” he went on, “one must not only write out the dia-| logue and see that the natural things evolve from causes, but one must write it down in an explanatory way—clearly, so | that the most stupid being on earth coula | not fail to grasp the idea. One is not al- ways abie to staze his own productions— in fact it is very seldom his wvrivilege, wherefore 1t mus: all be perfectly plain, word for wora, or it would all be a failure. | “Not,” he said, lavghing siightly, “that | I meant to cast any reflections upon the | stage-managers when I said that it must be written for the stupidest people on earth. To the contrary. The staze-man- ager has a task before him compared with which Noan’s management of the ark animals was an amateur farce. He hasto keep the animate and inanimate things shifting places properly. Tue in- animate things are easy—all you have to dois to press the button for them; but the actors have to be told again and acain. Then, when it doesn’t work right, there is a shower of tears from the ladies and ths gentlemen step to acornerand say things, while the stage-manaser himself—oh, he feels like seven different kinds of a, wretch.” “How does it seem to put a play on the stage and wait for the public to accent or reject it?” I asked. “I can’t expl Like a mother would feel whose only child stood upon a brink, | HisEx- nces outof her reach forever. Itisakind ot orture. You want to hold your hear you want to know and you dread Lo as| | you want to get away. but you can’t leave, |and even if vou could your thoughts would be there. Ard then when the morning papers come vou look at the headlines one by one and your heart thumps against your ribs, *But,” and be vot up and folded up the can:p-stool, like the press of San Fran- cisco and I like ti e City itself. I think I <hall be sorry to leave here when the time comes for my return to New York. Of course there are many interests in New York that a stranger cannot find in these parts. But I like your climate and your customs and the people. The roughness | of a newly settied place has given way to an indolence that is strangely attractive to me. And your mountain scenery— why, there is no place in the world with such scenery 23 you nave.” People are always hard subjects to han- dle—it is always wise to keep sull and look profound end shrug the shoulders now and then to show that the power of moving bas not been entirely lost. But when one speaks of nature every one can voice his thoughts and enthuse. So we enthu ed in that strange place filled with the glosts 8f joy and sorrow. We talked of the real and sat among the spirits of the unreal. For it has been said | before, and it will bear saying again, that an empty theater hes an atmosphere as | totaily different from any other place as can be conceived. The unoccunied church has a solemn mustiness abont it which is quite depress ing; the pleasure hall bas & blankness which comes, no doubt, from the fact that the floor reflacis the calm of the ce ing, and the bare walls stare shameless| au each other across the airy nothings which still re-eclio between them ; but the theater has the thoughts of the hope and despair and all kinds of human emotions that have been lived within its walls. And thus surrounded, this gen'us and I sat and talked, and he told me of his life and his ambitions ana bis disappoi ments, and he gave me a glimpse into inner sanctums till I thought—and i* was a weird thought for such a place—"They who came to scoff remained to pray.” The world has li‘tle real greatness to boast of to-day. The universe, with ail its ecsiatic beauty and its everlasting changing, goes on unvoiced. The sun | sinking into the west writes its tales of tie day’s love and sorrow and passion in | wondrous beauty on the tremulous float- ing clouds, and if one cres, *Is it not wonderful?”’ the world nods, smiles scorn- fully at the dreamer and turns away. But some day—well. why peak of some day? To-day is sufficient, since it is here, and it does not pay Lo be grear. MuRIEL BAILY. A Delicate Distinction. “Now,"” said the experienced statesman to the Jewly elected Senator, whom he was iustructing, “there is jus: one more point concerning senatorial courie which I feel it my duty to direct your | tention. It seems a litile hard, but all dignities have their drawbacks.” “What is it?"” “Itis censidered very bad form when a colleague is delivering a specch 10 go to to 40 danger of falling every moment, but sleep without leaving the room.”—Wash- ington Star, v