Newspaper Page Text
Bank In Eastern
Capital in City.
every 6 months.
VOL. LXIII. NO. 26.
They are slaves xho tear to speak.
Por the fallen and the weak, "
They aro slaves who will not choc so
Hutred, scoffing and abuse
Rather than in silenee shrink
From the truth they need must think;
They are slaves who dare not be
Tn the right with two or three.
By O. MANY
'URIOTJS cases in
Oh, yes, plenty. I
often smile to my
self when I find
the novelist taking
up old family in
cidents and work
ing them up into
Btories; and then
I think of what
plots T could have
famished if they
had not been fam
- 8ecrets, ?f u
ll)JV. ^yy? Private and thor
I remember one
case that, chancing
the names,it will be
ao particular breach of confidence to
mention, and I tell it the more frankly
because it is a little against myself,
and I must own that I did not act
quite upon what is called the square.
In faot, I played a part-a negative
kind of part-for I did nothing else
out hold my tongue. If I had spoken :
it would have vbeon fifty thousand
pouuds or so out of a truly honest
man's pocket and into a rogue's; sq,
somehow, I lei my feelings get the
better of my professional conscience,
and I said not a word.
IwasoldJohu Hendricks's solicitor,
and looked after his property, for I
had known him when he was a strug
gling man and I was a young lawyer
With none too much practice. Then
I lost sight of him for twenty years, at
the end of which time I was still
plodding along respectably, just hold
ing my own and nothing more, when,
going iuto one of the city taverns for
my regular daily chop, which I ate at
tho same table for so many years that
I had become one of tke institutions
of the place, I fonnd myself opposite
to a yellow-lookiug, thin, gray-haired
man, who kept on lookiuc rm f
plate to stare at me
I did not resent his
but At last it became
that I determined to 1
.and I gazed firmly into .
"Why, it is!" he exe
?old boy, don't you kne
"That's Jack Hend
exclaimed, nearly tip_...^tt .?r p?ate,
and the next moment we were sitting
there, hand clasped in hand, and with
the tears iu our eyes, looking very
foolish and weak, I dare day, to the
other occupants of the room; but that
did not trouble as, for we had too
much to say to each other.
John Hendricks told methat he had
been in the north of India, close to
Nepanl, for over twenty years. He
had gone out as a factor to au indigo
grower, and had become a grower
"And now," he said, "I have come
to look after my dead sister's sons and
"Well, old fellow," I said, "the first
part's right enough, but as to the dy
ing, I think it's as well to leave that
alone. It will be all settled for you.
The only thing with respect to that,
speaking as a professional man, is to
make your will, if you have anything
to leave, and then make the most of
"Have you made yours, Dick?" he
"I? No," I said laughing. "F\?
nothing to leave, Jack;" and then we
went into mutual confidences: and
niter I had told him of my own hard
working life, he gave me to under
stand that he had made a very large
fortune in indigo, and spent very little
"Mine's been too hard-working a
life, Dick," he said, "for mo to be
much of a spender; but it will be a
fine thing for Jenny's two boys if-if
I like them," he added sharply. And
theu, with a quiet, subdued look,
"Poor Jenny! I should have liked to
eee her again."
.John Hendricks was fifteen years
my senior, but we became onte more
the closest o. friends, for he' seemed
to resume his old protective way over
me, but trusting mo most fully in
It was all done in a quiet, unosten
tatious way, but from the day cf John
Hendricks's return the world began
to smile on me. I had a great deal of
professional business to do for him,
and as he had most extensive connec
tions among old indigo plauters, I
found them coming to me, right und
left, by his recommendation; so that
very soon, in place of finding it hard
work to keep one clerk, 1 had very
hard work for four, and a big balance
at my bank.
But I am getting on too fast.
Before long I met the two nephews
at their uncle's quiet little house at
Chelsea, and as we sat at dinner I
could not help thinking how kindly
fortune was behaving to the young
men to place them in the way of such
expectations; and before I left it was
plain enough to me which was the un
This was Philip, a frank-faced
young fellow of two or three-aud
twenty, very gentlemanly in his ways,
and deoidedly good-looking, while he
was full of auecdote, and, without
seeming to be toadying, full of atten
tion to the old man, to the old man.
to whose dogmatic speeches he list
ened with the greatest deference.
For old John had grown terribly
dogmatic. He had had the management
of hundreds of. poor ryots for so many
years that he felt quite a king in his
way, and would bully and snub every
one when his liver was a little worse
thar usual-everyone, that is, except
me, for whenever he was out of tem
per he never would speak to me, but
nod and shake his head, and smoke
his ohillum till he felt more at ease,
Is true frcedon but to break
Fetters for our own dear sake,
And, with leathern hearts, forgot
That we owe mankind a debt?
No! true freedom is to sharo
AU the chains our brothers wear,
And with heart and hand to be
Earnest to make others free.
-James ltusseil Lowell.
Samuel was the very opposite of his
brother j beiug a short, thick-set,
plain fellow, with only one good fea
ture-or ought that to be two?-in
his face, and that his eyes, which
were, for a man, beautiful, and, best
of all, in their steady, honest look,
which never seemed to blanch or
have anything to fear.
Time went on, and at Johu Heu
dricks's wish I took Philip as articled
"Let him be a lawyer," said my
old friend; "not a barrister, but a
lawyer, a family solicitor, who knows
the value of property aud how to
manage it, for-in confidence, Dick,
do you hear?"
"You may charge for it, if you
like; I mean to make that boy my
heir, but don't tell him."
"I don't tell what my clients say to
me," I said.
"No, you dry, old wooden box," he
said, chuckling; "I never met with
such a snuffy, reticent old humbug as
"Weil, if I had not, you wouldn't
have made me your solicitor," I said,
"Perhaps not, Dick; perhaps not,
old fellow; but we should have been
friends all the same; but don't give
Phil the slightest hiut of what I
mean to do for him. Let him work,
and get to be a clever, shrewd man of
business. I hate an empty dandy.
Let him learn the worth of money be
fore he gets it. God bless him! he's
exactly like poor Jenny."
"And how about Sam?" I said in
my gruff, rcpelleut way.
"Let him stop where he is, and sell
tea and tea-dust, and make his money
out of the chests," he said, in a hard,
harsh manner that I did not like.
"But you'll leave him as much as
you leave his brother?" I said.
\" "That I wrm't T\i~y Tf-?j --o?a.
'.'Bosh! Don't tell me, sir. I can
read character. I haven't V d to
sixty-eight for nothing, sir. xue fel
low never shows me a bit of deference.
He's rough and independent, and bul
lies his brother justas that scoundrel,
his father, did my poor sister Jenny.
I don't like him."
Now I, too, had studied character a
little, and I knew enough of John
Hendricks to see that T should be
doing no good by fighting on Samuel's
behalf, but I made it my business a
few days Inter to ask him to call ni: on
me; and during the interview the
opinion I had already formed was
"No, Slr. Brown," he said warmly,
"I can't do it. I don't say but Avhat
if my uncle left me some money I
should be glad ol' it, for-for I am
thinking of getting married, sir; but
my uncle does not like me. He has
taken a prejudice against me because
!-e says I am exactly like my dead
Tither, and I can't help that, of course."
"But you might try to humor him a
.ittle, and let him see that yon don't
deserve his-I am sure-wrong opin
"Thank you for that, Afr. Brown,"
he exclaimed, and his eyes looked soft
and subdued; "but I could not do it,
sir. I never would toady to auy one
for the sake of the money t jat might
come, and if I were to go there trying
to please my uncle, he would only de
spise me for it. My poor mother
taught me, Mr. Brown, aud I have
never forgotten her teachings."
1 found before long that John Hen
dricks was thoroughly in earnest, for
he sent for me one day to take instruc
tions to make hi.? will; but I could not
help laying down my pen when I
found that he intended to leave the
whole of his property, save some
trifling legacies to servants and others,
to his younger nephew, Philip Hems
"Now,*" I said, "is this fair?"
"Sir," he said, "you aro now my
"Adviser," I said, correcting" him;
"and I advise you to do your duty by
your nephews by leaving them equal
"I'll do nothing of the kind," he
said. "I'll leave it all to Philip."
I argued and fought, and the result
was that he let me put down two thou
sand pound*", for Sam; but the great
property of a hundred and odd thou
sand pounds, well invested, was left
"Now, Dick," said the old fellow
chuckling, "tko?* boys will be sure to
ask you if you have any will oi mine.and
I want to humbug them; so we'll de
posit this at the banker's, and then if
they ask you if you have my will, you
can say 'No.'"
Everything was done as he wished,
anet the will placed at the banker's;
and though, during the next five years
I tried hard to get the old man to make
a fresh one, he grew more obstinate
than ever, shutting his eyes blindly to
the character of his nephews; and all I
could do was to let matters take their
It was a bad course for Philip Hems
ley, who was, in a quiet,secretive way,
a regular scamp-his father over
again. Ho was very clever and shrewd
as a lawyer, and got on well when he
stuck to it, and this pleased the old
man, to whom he was devotedly atten
tive; while poor Sam seemed to be
come more and more estranged, though
a better and truer-hearted fellow never
married apure, sweet little woman
like an augel, who poured ?nt tea foi
a grim old fellow.
I was often at his snug little home,
and, after trying in rain to make
things better for him with bia rich
uncle, I came to the conclusion that
they would be no happier for the
money, so I let matters slide.
"Two thousand will be a nice nest
egg for them," I thought, "so per
haps all is for the best."
As I hare said, Phil became a
Bhrewdish fellow in the law, and
passed his examination pretty wei!, so
that he knew what he was about in
legal matters; and one day he proved
the truth of his uncle's prophecy by
saying to me suddenly.
"My xtncle is far from well. Mr.
Brown. Have you got his will?"
"No," I said, so shortly that he
turned upon his heel and went away.
About a month later I was with my
old friend, and felt shocked at the
change, for it was evident that he was
not much longer for this world.
He had sent for me, and I was iu
hopes that he meant to alter his will,
and J was right.
"What a while you have been com
iug," he said querulously. "I
wanted you so badly, Dick."
"I came on directly, old fellow," I
said, kindly. "Here, let me put you
a little more easy."
"Thank ye, Dick," he said, "but
it's all over. That boy has killed me.
Did he ask you if you had my will?"
"Yes, about a month since, and I
said 'No.'" (
"I knew it, Dick; I knew it," he
said, pitifully; "and ever since he has
been worrying me to let him make my
willi Dick, old friend, I've made a
big mistake. There, there, don't jump
upon me. I-I confess it all. I
thought he was his mother's boy, he
was BO like her; but-but he has his
father's spirit and his ways to the verv
"I am glad you have awakened to
the truth," I said.
"You should have advised me bet
ter," he retorted querulously,
"Should 1, Jack?"
"No? no; you did, Dick. I've onlj
just found out what an old fool I am,
my dear boy; We have quarrelled
terribly, that boy and I, for I have
found him out, in spite of his smootb
tongue; He's a Bcamp, L villain-a
gambler, and in debt terribly. He
has half killed me, Dick, and
I tore at the bell, as the poor old
fellow seemed about to have a fit. for
the terrible emotion he had suffered
at what must have been the rooting
up of his most cherished belief in his
sister's child had proved, in his weak
state, to be more than he could bear.
The doctor was sent for, and at the
; * hrmr John Hendricks was
tay cuni* ?cid'I, sirtiug beside
IUD uucior was rignt,tor my poor ol a
friend never recovered his senses, but
quietly breathed his last a few hours
The funeral followed in due form,
and I was there, both as old friend
aud solicitor, to me the very small
party who went to the grave.
Sam was there, of course, making
no indecorous show of sorrow, while
his brother sobbed aloud over the
grave; but he had a good deal recov
ered when we assembled afterward in
the dil.' ' .oom of my old frienl's
house, .d few friends wondering
whether he had remembered them in
his will, about which 3ubject I heard a
whisper going round that none had
I suppose that it was from a feeling
of importance, perhaps more from an
unwillingness to wound poor Sam
Hemsley and his young wife by letting
them hear the unjust will, that I did
not hurry myself to produce it, though
I don't think they anticipated much.
But all at once, to my utter astonish
ment, Philip rose, coughed to clear
his husky voice, and said quietly:
"I presume you all know how much I
have of late been in my uncle's con
fidence, so that you will not be sur
prised that, as I was by his wish a
solicitor, he should have entrusted to
me the making of his will."
I am a man of the world, but for the
moment I was knocked off my balance.
Then I was about to exclaim, as I saw
him bring forth the document:
"Why, you scoundrel, you have
forged a willi"
Fortunately for Sam, I recovered
myself, and sat with my old friend's
genuine will buttoned up beneath my
coat, while, with the calmest audacity,
the rascal read out the document that,
as a lawyer, he had cleverly forged.
I saw it all now. He had asked me
if I had his uncle's will, and I had said
no. He must have searched the old
man's papers aud found none, aud, feeb
ing safe, Philip had forged a will in
his own favor, and artfully, too, mak> 1
ing one about which there could be no
dispute; for he provided legacies to
friends, and the residue, which proved
to be over a hundred thousand pounds,
in equal moieties to his nephews, j
Samuel and Philip Hemsley.
I sat and laughed to myself as 1 j
heard him read this piece of forgery, j
which was all in due form, clever from 1
the man's cunning in contenting him
self with half, knowing that if the will j
were otherwise it might have been dis
puted, when now it would be taken as
perfection; and there, all the time, I
sat with the genuine will in my pocket, I
from which he was cutting himself off !
by this act, while I rejoiced to think
how the villain was being forced as it j
were by fate to do justice to his brother
What would you have done-given
the scoundrel into custody as a forger,
made a terrible upset, and caused no
end of trouble about the property?
Perhaps you would. I did not, for I
went home, after satisfying myself
that the false will was in due form, and
destroyed the real one.
Ye?, I know what you will say-that
it was a felonious act, and that 1
ought to have been struck off the rolls.
Perhaps I ought to have been, but I.
pondered on the fact that, instead ol
the whole hundred thousand pounds
going to a villain who would stoop to
forge, half of it went to a truly deserv
ing man ; so I left the punishment tc
higher powers than those of man, and
kept my seeret, which is a secret still,
for I have only riven fictitious names,
the great Com
moner, the Grau cl
Old Man, is dead.
Britisher of his
time has found
peace and rest af
ter a long life of
in the highest
realm of human
born in Liverpool, England, on De
I cember 29, 1809. He was spinning
tops, at five years, when Bismarck
was the new baby at Schoenhausen.
I He was learning Greek, at the age of
ten, when Victoria pnt in an appear
ance. He entered Parliament when
Andrew Jackson was in his first term
a3 President, and did not leave it un
? til Grover Cleveland had begun his
second term. He and Daniel Web
ster were serving their first terms as
Cabinet officers in the Administrations
of their respective countries at the
Although born in Liverpool, Glad
stone was fond of proclaiming that
every drop of his blood was Scotch.
He came of the Gledstone family, of
j Lanarkshire, where the Gledstones are
first heard of. Centuries ago-away
I Willhus ?*i?d .Un e th ? 1?-L sur
Biggar early in tue s-tcim,^.- -
tury, and bj the time William's grand
son had beev boin the family name
had been altered to Gladstones. Tho
Premier was baptized Gladstones, but
in 1835 his father, John, dropped the
final "s" from his name.
His father was Sir John Gladstone,
a wealthy merchaut>who relinquished
a small business in Glasgow, about
1785, and removed to Liverpool, where
he acquired a large fortune in the
East India trade, being created a
baronet in 1816. This fourth son was
sent to Eton, and while there gave
promise of the splendid brilliancy
which marked his course at Oxford,
from which he graduated at Christ
church in 1831 as double first class,
tho highest honor and one rarely at
tained. Then he became a fellow of
After traveling for a short period he
entered Parliament in December, 1832,
as member for Newark, a nomina
tion borough belonging to the Duke
of Newcastle, which he continued to
represent tili 1846.
It is a mark of strong character
when a man who finds he is headed in
the wrong path turns completely
around and leads in the other direc
tion. Gladstone, when he was first
elected to the House of Commons,
just after the passage of the reform
bill that made English representative
government, previously a mockery,
into something like a reality, was a
Tory of the straightest, old-fashioned
sect. His maiden speech in the
House was in the debate upon the
measure abolishing slavery in the
British colonies, and was a defense of
the slaveholders against attacks made
by radical abolitionists. For nearly
twenty years he was one of the slim
ing lights of the Conservative party
and the foremost lieutenant of Sir
Robert Peel, its great leader. Then
ho gradually drifted into Liberalism,
and, niter being for some time more
or less "a free lance, " ho became a
member of Lord Palmerston's cabiuet
At the death of that statesman he
sucoed?d him as leader of the Lib
erals in- the House of Commons, and
when his party regained office in 1868,
aftor Disraeli's firBt government,
HAWARDEN CASTLE, THE E
Gladstone attained the premiership.
He held it for six years, and again
from ?880 to 1885, when he declared
himself: in favor of the Irish demand
for home rule, which up to that time
he had Strenuously opposed. The re
sult was the secession of a large body
of Ins supporters and his defeat at the
polls iii 1886-a defeat which the
dauntless veteran afterward retrieved.
?A glance at the following chronol
ogy wit? show the principal events iii
Gladstone's career as a statesman and
1809-December 29, born at Liverpool.
1831- Graduated at Oxford.
1832- intered Parliament.
1834-Jnnlor Lord of the Treasury.
1885-Fader Colonial Secretary.
1839-?Tho Stato In Relation to the
1340-^Church Principles Considered."
1841-$|ce-Prosident of the Board of
1342^-Bevised tho tariff.
1843-president of the Board of Trade.
1847-Advocated freedom for Jew?.
1852-iSJhancellor of the Exchequer;
18 )3-'joni High Commisslonof *' .
Acton in his n-tive city on aopremoerll.
-Abolished purchase of army com
-Abolished confiscation in penal
1873- Irish university reforms proposed.
-Resigned, but resumed power.
1874- Dissolved Parliament.
1879- Mid Lothian triumph.
-"Gleanings of Past Years."
1880- Primo Minister.
1886- Prlrae Minister.
-Irish home rule proposed.
1892- Primo Minister.
1893- Irish home rulo passed Commons;
defeated by Lords.
But Gladstone, the Eton boy, was
as interesting as "the Grand Old
Mau." His special and inseparable
friend was Arthur Hallam, the subject
! of Tennyson's "Ia Memoriam." The
I friendship commenced when Glad
stone was in his thirteenth year and
was never weakened until death came
to loose the silver cord.
On July 25, 1889, Mr. Gladstone
celebrated his golden wedding. His
eighty-first birthday anniversary, in
1890, was made the occasion for the
unveiling of a memorial fountain at
Hawarden. He carried out another
Midlothian campaign in 1892, and was
returned at the general election by a
small majority. In August he became
Premier for the fourth time.
There had been many rumors of
Gladstone's retirement, but when it
came few were prepared for it. His
last speech as Prime Minister was
made in the House of Commons on
March 1, 1894, and was a memoriable
protest against the jurisdiction of the
House of Lords.
Thus Mr. Gladstone closed his pub
lic life in an attack upon the House of
Lords, against Avhich he fought many
a battle before. Few of his auditors
seemed to realize that this was to be
bis last utterance in the assembly,
plain as his words were. Many a
mau would havfl been pathetic, tragic,
perhaps, at such *a point in hie career,
"It is well understood," says Juatin
McCarthy, "that Mr. Gladstone, on
his retirement from public lifo, re
ceived from the sovereign the offer of
an earldom, with, of course, a seat in
the House of Lords. Mr. Gladstone
gratefully and gracefully declined the
title and the position. He had already
made a name which no earldom or
dukedom or any other rank could
Mr. Gladstone, in 1838, married
Catharine, daughter of Sir Stephen
Eichard Glynne, of Hawarden Castle,
Flintshire, a descendant of Sarjeant
Glynne, who was Lord Chief Justice
in Cromwell's time. Mr. and Mrs.
Gladstone have had eight children,
seven of whom survive-four sons and
three daughters. Tho eldest son, Mr.
[OME OF THE GLADSTONES.
W. H. Gladstone, was elected M. P.
for East Worcestershire, having pre
viously represented Whitby in Par
liament; the second son, Rev. Stephen
Edward Gladstone, became rector of
Hawarden; the third son, Henry
Neville Gladstone, keeps up the com
mercial reputation of the Gladstone
family, and the youngest son, Herbert
John Gladstone, was elected member
Two of Mr. Gladstone's daughters
married clergymen. Agnes, the eldest,
became the wife of the Rev. E. C.
Wickham, M. A., head master of
Wellington College. Mary married
the Rev. Henry Drew. She prac
tically lives at Hawarden Castle with
her husband and little daughter
Dorothy. Little Dossie, as her family
MRS. GLADSTONE AND DOROTHY, MR. GLAD
STONE'S FAVORITE GRANDCHILD.
calls her, is a little more than five
Miss Helen-the youngest daughter
-was the pet of her illustrious father,
and for several years had devoted al
most all her entire time to him. On
his retirement she resigned her posi
tion as vice principal of Newnham
College so she would be able to devote
herself to him.
The last years of Gladstone's life
were passed at Hawarden Castle, the
property of his wife, which is practi
cally in the gateway to Wales. The
residence is on the hills overlooking
the valley of the beautiful Dee, six
miles east of Chester, in a picturesque
park of 700 acres. And there ne lived,
surrounded by four sons, three daugh
ters and seven grandchildren, who
loved him with intense devotion.
The London News prints a descrip
tion given by a friend of the family
who visited the death chamber in
Hawarden Castle from which the fol
lowing extracts are given:
"I walked to the side of the narrow
little iron bed, whose head was sur
rounded by a simple screen of black
with a pattern of gold. This back
ground was in sharp contrast with the
snow-white bed linen which partially
covered all that remained of the great
statesman. If this was the chamber
of death it was also the abode of peace.
The figure upon which I looked down
might have been some beautiful statue
of grayish-white marble recumbent
upon a tombstone. Yet stern the
features still are, severely aquiline
the nose, tight drawn the lips. It
was in death the face of some great
leader of men, a mortal hero whose
earthly pilgrimage had ever been over
the most arduous and rugged paths;
though dumb, it still seems to say,
'I have striven. I have done my
"The closed eyes and hands clasped
tight within each other were truly the
attitude of one who had gone to sleep
fervently praying to his God, and hf
had done so. Those hands folded
upon the sheet seemed exquisite bits
MISS HELEN GLADSTONE.
of carving by a sculptor's chisel. The
noble forehead, so deep bitten with
furrows, wrought by care of empire,
by a ceaseless combat for good, was
now almost smooth and serene. The
majestic form has shrank, but until it
finally crumbles into dust it can never
lose that lofty iniperator cast which
all knew so well when it was full of
life and vigor.
"I turn away with profound venera
tion and dim, unutterable wonder at
the mystery of it all. Not a sound
from the world without; only this
rigid, praying, exquisitely sculptured
piece of clay, which not so long ago
moved Senates, multitudes, wi ole
nations by its fervor, its eloquence and
its great purpose."
LEND A HELPING HAND.
now Girls Maj Alaka Themselves Very
Uscfnl to Our Brav? Defender!.
The Eed Cross Associatior has is
sued an appeal to the women of th?
United States for 10,000 emergency
bags to be sent to the soldiers and sail
ors now on duty and to volunteers.
In answer to the many requests for
suggestions for "emergency bags,"
housewives, the sailor's "ditty bag"
and the contents thereof; two patterns
ire given hy the New York Tribune
which are almost equally convenient.
No. 1 has an oval or round flat bottom
of leather or covered cardboard, about
the size of a large egg. It is made, as:
the sketch shows, of two thicknesses,
and serves as a needle-book, pin
cushion and scissors case, the sides be
ing kept closed with a button and an
elastic hook. The under side is made
like a flat pincushion, and is furnished
with large pins. Nest comes a flannel
leaf for needles, darning neeules and
safety pins. The flat pincushion might
also, without taking up any more room,
include an envelope or pocket for court
plaster. The upper side of the bottom
SOLDIER'S "HOUSEWIFE." _
of the bag has a small pair of scissors
held in place by an elastic band, a
steel punch which is valuable foi mak
ing extra holes in leather straps and
mending and a pair of tweezers. The
bag part is made of red silk and should
be marked with the name of the owner,
and has a doubled ribbon as a draw- .
string. It should contain two spools |
of coarse thread, bone and tin buttons. !
two pairs of shoe laces and two cards
of darning cotton. The same bag is |
large enough to hold bottles, each of
which should have its own soft flannel
linse roll it piece v. tic ?TC izi?ht
.uBuo osj kim li
they will not cut, leaving the tube
on-.-quarter open. Place within two I
spools of coarse cotton, one black and !
one white, with a piece of wax be
tween tht in, and through the three
articles thrust a short knitting needle,
each encl of which is firmly fastened
with a pincushion, which fills up the
holes at the ends. The spools are i
now safe and cannot be lost, and the
wax, without which, they say, a man .
SAILOR'S WALLET "HOUSEWIFE."
cannot sew, on account of tangling
his thread, 'handy." The tin tube
is then covered with the strong linen
which forms the wallet; this is turned
under the edge of the tin and glued
and the points are sewed to the pin
cushions. The rest of the wallet has 1
pockets, needle-book, etc., and con
tains about the same articles as the
The Tallest MlUtlaman.
New York and the Bay State feel a
joint interest in First Sergeant Valen
tine E. Gilson, who goes to fight
Spaniards with the Charlestown
(Mass.) City Guards. Gilson was
formerly employed by Harper Broth
ers, in New York City, and is the I
GIGANTIC SERGEANT VALENTINE.
tallest militiaman yet reported. He
stands six feet and eight inches in
height, and is built in proportion.
When he advances Spain may as well
move on. He has a brother six feet
four inches tall in the same company.
Gulf Stream's Speed.
Three miles an hour is about the
average speed of the Gulf Stream.
At certain places, however, it attains
a speed of fifty-one miles an hour, the
rapidity of the current giving the -nr
face, when the sun is shining, th'? ap
pearance of a sheet of fire.
yvritiM int 'JAT wr/iti,
I. .Zi. . r
.*hen the day comes
?'nth thunder of the drums,
And blowing of tbe bugles, we shall be
No craven band
Oa crimsoned sea 01 land,
To heroes tracing our high ancestry,
And, under God,
On glorious sea and sod,
Cleaving a path of freedom tor the free!
When the day comes
Either rejoicing drums,
And victor-flags above the ranks to wave,
Or, where the dust gleams red
With blood for Freedom shed,
The glory of the dying of the brave! .
Life fer the land to give- '
For Freedom still to live,
Or her loved smile to light us to the grave!
HUMOR OF THE DAY. !
"Papa?" "Well?" "How tall is
the man who is above criticism?"
1 'Do yon think that stimulants wonld
hurt me, doctor?" "Not if you leave
them alone. " -JDetroit Free Press.
Jack-"I wan? to marry my op
posite." Maud-,4I don't know of any
girl bright enough to suit you."''
"Baffled! ' muttered the great de
tective. He threw his wife's dress to
the floor and strode gloomily from the
Foreman of Torrent Engine Com
pany (gazing at the sniok.. ? rains, but
speaking cheerfully)-"Well, boys,
we saved the engine!"-Pack
She-"Love is like sea-sickness." .
He-"Why?" She-"Because you
oan have it awfully and yet can't de
scribe it."-Detroit Free Press.
Jasper "They say that Hustler
made a fortune in the Klondike."
Jumpuppe-r-"Yes; he carried fools up
there and carried wise men back."
Mrs. B.-"The ladyDabbs is going
to marry is highly intellectual. She
speaks three languages." Mr. B.
(condolingly)-"Poor Dabbs. "-Bos
"Pa's got a nawful temper," said
Jamie. "I tried t' sand-paper my
pencil or. his chin while he was takin'
a nap, an' he woke up an' got real mad
A Quaker once, hearing a person tell
how much he felt for a friend who :
needed assistance, drily observed:
"Friend, hast thou felt in thy pocket
"Ain't I little bow-legged?" asked
the dubious young man. "Bow
legged?" said his tailor. "The idea!
Your lower limbs, sir, are absolutely
without a parallel."-Indianapolis
"Well," said the adjuster as he set
down his valise, "I investigated that .
"Ho'? . . ?ney, ^;..?u.uu't
care to interrapt him at his devotions. "
"My son wants me to buy him a
trolley line, and I think he would make
a lawyer. In the one case he would
cut people up, and in the other merely
pull their legs. What would you sug
gest?" "I'd make a doctor ont of him.
Then he can do both."-Puck.
High-Priced Doctor-"You are now
convalescent and all you n^i is exer
cise. You should walk ten, twenty,
thirty miles a day, sir; but your walk
ing should have an object." Patient
j-"All right doctor. I'll travel around
trying to borrow enough to pay your
He (wondering if that Williams has
ever been accepted)-"Are both your
rings heirlooms?" She (concealing
the hand)-"Oh, dear, yes! One has
been in the family since the time of
Alfred, but the otL":r is ne?ver and
(blushing) only dates from the con
quest."-Harlem Life. i
Mistress-"Why, Bridget, you sure
ly don't consider these windows
washed?" Bridget-"Sure, I washed
'em nicely on the inside, mum, so yo
can look out; but I intentionally lift
thim a little dirty on the outside so
thim aignorant Jones children nixt
door couldn't look in."-Truih.
Di?guss-"Old man, you've accom
modated me a great many times, and
I wouldn't,strike you now if it wasn't
a matter of absolute need. I'm suf
fering fer the lack of $10." Shadbolt
(reluctantly handing it over)-"What's
the trouble, Dingnss?" Dinguss
"My wife has got her heart set on a
'98 wheel, and I need the $10 to make
the first payment on it."-Chicago
I He (desperately)-"Tell me the
truth. Is it not my poverty that stands
between us?" She (sadly)-"Y-e-s."
He (with a ray of hope)-"I admit
that I am poor, and so, unfortunately,
is my father; but I have an aged uncle
who is very rich, and a bachelor. Ho
is an invalid and cannot long survive. "
She-"How kind and thoughtful you
are! Will you introduce me to him?"
- -New York Weekly.
A Pupil's Impudent Impromptu.
In tr public school of Olympia,
Wash., where pupils are asked occa
sionally for impromptu poetical reci
tations, one reluctant boy recently
ordered to show his ability at rhym
ing for the benefit of the School
Board's visitors astounded all pres
ent, and secured punishment for him*
self later by declaiming:
God, Ol God, supreme on high,
Look down on this committee,
Who chose such fools to teach our schools
In this our capital city.
Repartee by John Wesley.
John Wesley, the father of Method
ism, was brought before the mayor at
a certain town, charged with having
wrought disturbance by stree! preach
ing. "You ought to have known,"
said the mayor, "that this sort of
thing is not permitted by the mob."
"Pardon," said Wesley, "but I wasn't
even aware that this town of yours
was governed by a mob."
A Dutiful Son's Advertisement.
A dutiful German son advertises in
the Leipzig Tageblatt: "Marriage-I
seek for my father, a strictly respecta
ble man with a quiet business, an
elderly, solitary widow or maiden with
some yroperty in cash. Address with
a statement of conditions,