Newspaper Page Text
A GREAT AR1Y OF CROWS,
THE HAUNT THE NATIONA
CEMETEET AT ARTTGTON.
A Mmlon Find Shelter In the Tree
Tops at Night and Go Forth in
T is not generally known, but it is
a fact, nevertheless, that the great
National Cemetery at Arlington,
near Washington City, is iahab
ited every night by an army of a mil
lion or more of feathered natives of
Virginia. Every morning, just before
daybreak, the soldiers of Fort Meyer,
near-by, notice a stir in the tall tree
tops, in the branches and on the ex
treme limbs of the primeval foresi '
which forms the cemetety.
As the light penetrates the leaves
and branches of the forest the feath
ered sleepers are awakened and rise
with a bound into the azure blue,
writes a correspondent of the Phila
delphia Times. The morning air is
stirred with the flapping of a million
of wings and with light-pitched notes,
as they are sung by the army of crows.
Like an army with banners, well
trained, mystic, wonderful, thee den
izens of the forest rise in graceful
flight, and with the lightnes and
gracefulness of gyratory curves, they
fall into the line of march winh tre
mendous energy and speed acros-s the
sky toward the northeast. Directly a
across the old Potomac River where h
the Grant MemorialBridge is proposed L
to be built, over ancient Georgetown S,
and Northern Washington, hiding the ti
rising sunlight from the suburban d
villas, speeding gracefully over the c)
old village of Bladensburg, the ancient
dueling ground for the National Cap
ital, the army of Potomac crows ei
marches across the fresh morning in- g
to the upper Chesapeake Bay atmos- v
phere. The head of the column usually a:
reaches the bay and commences to
settle down to work by the time the f,
rear guard has left Arlington. . a
Late in the afternoon, just about or ,
a little before sunset, the observer will c
see a long and constantly growing t<
army of these birds retracing their
steps, or rather reofying their tracks, b
southwestward to their nightly home ]
in Arlington. The numbers of this f<
migratory flock, as well as the regular, il
periodical character of their diurnal
flight, produce a spectacle of more t4
than ordinary interest. Their going h
and coming has attracted a great deal
of notice and been a subject of scien- r
tific inquiry for a number of years. As a
a matter of fact ever since the Poto.
mac Valley was settled the ancestors iz
of this great army of crows occupied p
the woods and wooded hills along the si
river in Alexandria and Fairfax Coun. J t]
ties. Before the war they occupied c
an immense strip of pines above
Georgetown, but the woods were de. s1
stroyed during the war and the mod- g
ern crows were obliged to forsake the w
home of their ancestors and seek their v
nightly refuge in the natural groves t:
about the ancestral home of the Lees. n
The crow is not the enemy of the f:
farmer in this section of the country, n
but rather his friend. It is true that r<
he will follow the grain sower and e;
pick up a small portion of the seec
which is sown, but the crow has az b:
appetite for animal food, and is always si
on the lookout for cut worms and ti
other enemies of the farmer. Thou- a;
sands of these crows, in their flight h:
towards the Chesapeake in the early b
morning, stop on their way, like
stragglers and foragers from an army, 0o
and settle down upon the farms foi h
half an hour or more, during whick- k
period they gather up millions o:
worms of various kinds, and relieve a
the farmer of them, while at the same
-time they satisfy their own appetites.
They are helpful fellows, are thes< as
crows, and the farmers in this country
do not put up scare-crows, as they dc"
in many portions of the United States. n.
The river men, that is those whc m
dwell along the banks of the Potomae,. tz
or who are engaged in boating or fish
ig, generally see the entrance gates iz
to the National Cemetery grow blacb itl
inthe evening as thewegied predatory !al
peripatetics settle there. The reader a
probably knows that at each of the y
entrances to the National Cemetery te
iron gates are hanged from immense c
granite pillars, surmounted each with e
a slab bearing the chiseled name oL st
some of our great military leaders. is
The pillars were formerly used in the di
porticos of the old War Department a:
building. They can be seen with the p
naked eye fror the Washington side of a
the river, and when the crows settle i
there-whole platoons of them-the o:
entranca gates appear to be draped in
mourning, while the trees are dark- k]
ened into a semblance of crepe dress- ui
ing, as though all animate nature were t
ready to weep for the fallen brave iz
men and true who slumber there. az
In the spring time and fall especially, p.
when their numbers are greatest, the fa
spectacle presented is truly imposing. 5
Gradually the -black speck settlingi a
upon the slab which crowns the pillar ti
grows before the vision, and as the se
advance guard covers the gate the re
mainder of the army, waving their p
black flags, sweep shrieking over and y
beyond until every leaf is obscured,
almost wholly, by the amazing host- az
A signal officer at Fort Meyer says h<
that these black soldiers of the air a"f
well drilled, observant of rae :m fr
subject to discipline. Th.-ir di
course is regular when observed i:n il at
entirety; although seemingly ire?- ac
lam and ragged to the casual obse-v'-. to
They travel in squads and co:ni'any, Fa
which have military cohesion, adl M
ing related to each other in yho I. (
regiments and brigades. Th r:
pline is rigid and their tactics ir-r
feet as that of their humnu p)ro~ty p
albeit upon a different plan, ftt.,e
course, to their circumxstre.:; a
conditions. They have s1airmider
and outlying sentinels wheth.er in sih y
by day or at rest by night. t oreover, m
they are truly guardians of ti'
for neither man nor beast could enter
Arlington at night without arousing I
the crow sentinels who would give the
alarm, and millions of throats would
at once respond, cawing their an
nouncement of the intrusion and call
ing for action to repel the invasion.1
A TRIAL TO THEM.
"I hate to see Johnny grrowinr up
so fast," said Mrs. Bloobumaper. i
"Childhood is so sweet."
"That is so," replied Bloobumper ;
"but that isn't the worst of it. We'll
have to borrow a boy to go to the cir- ~
'Is the season of autumn, the 4ild wiud
No longer the sheen of the summer suv
he dark tangled woodlands, and no longei
Those glens where the silence of ages liep
's the season of autumn, the sk'(3 are be.
There's a wall in the wind and a blur on
)r soon will the glory of summer be
And death wil stalk dismal on Nature's
MontgomeryM. Folsom, in Atlanta Journal
'IE GOVERNOR'S WOOLNG,
Blouet, sir? asked
an attendant, as he
opened the door of
the Deputy Goy
It was a large,
. . . severe looking
apartment, with a
very high ceiling,
two windows draped
with green damask
curtains, walls and
=mchairs of the same color, and
Davy bookcases- of mahogany. The
ighly waxed floor reflected the cold
rmmetry of the official furniture, and
ie mirror over the mantelpiece repro
aced with exactness a black marble
ock, two bronze lamps and a pair of
Hubert Boinville, the Deputy Gov
-nor, was seated, with his back to the
replace, at a large mahogany desk
hich was littered over with deeds
ad various papers. He raised his
rave, melancholy face, which was
amed in a brown beard, tinged with
few gray hairs, and his black eyes,
ith tired-looking lids, glanced at the
trd which the solemn usher handed
On this card was written in a trem,
ling hand, "Veuve Blouet" (Widow
louet), but the name conveyed no in
)rmation to him and he put it down
"It is an old lady, sir," said the at
,dant, in explanation. "Shall Isend
"No; let her come in," replied the
uputy Governor, in a tone of resig
The usher straightened himself up
L his uniform, bowed, and disap
eared, returning the next minute to
iow in the visitor, who stopped on
ie threshold and dropped an old
She was a little old lady, dressed in
iabby mourning. Her black merino
own had a greenish tinge, and was
rinkled and darned; a limp crape
il, which had evidently served
irough more than one period of
Lourning, hung down on each side
rom an old-fashioned bonnet, and be
eatha front of false brown hair was a
>und, wrinkled face with bright little
es, a small mouth and no teeth.
"Si:,ite began in a somewhat
re'athless vo, mdeb dds
ster and widow of men who served
eir country. I applied some time
o to the department for help and I
ve come to see whether there is any
The Deputy Governor listened with
t moving a muscle of his face. He
ad heard so many applications of this
"Have vou ever received any assist
ce ?" he asked coldly.
"No, sir," she replied. "I have
anaged to get on until now without
king. I have a small pension."
"Ah!" he interrupted in a dry tone,
in that case I am afraid we can do
thing for you. We have a great
any applicants who have no pension
"Ah, listen, sir !" she cried despair
Lgly, "I have not explained every
ing. I had three sons, and they are
.1 dead. ' The last one taught mathe
atics, and one day during the winter,
hen he was going from the Pantheon
SChaptal College, he caught a violent
>ld, which settled on his lungs and
rried him off in two weeks. He had
pported me and his child by teach
eg; the expenses of his illness and
ath used up all our little savings,
id I had to raise money on my
nsion. Now I am alone in the
orld with my grandchild, and we
we nothing. I am eighty-two years
Tears had gathered under her wrin
.ed eyelids as she spoke, and the Dep
y Governor was listening more at
tively than at first. A peculiar sing
g intonation of the speaker's voice,
d the sound of certain provincialecx
~essions seemed to his ears like once
miliar music; the old lady's way of
leaing had for him a flavor of home
hich produced a most singular sensa
on in his mind. He rang his bell andi
nt for Mine. Blouet's "papers," and
hen the sedate usher had laid a thia
whage before him he examined the
llow pages with evident interest.
"You are from Lorraine, I see, mad
ne," he said at last, turning towards
er a face less stern, and on which a
int smile was seen; "I1 suspected it
om your accent."
"Yes, sir ; I am from Argonne," she
tswered. "And you recognize my
'ent? I thought I had long since
st it.: I have been knocking about
rance like a flying camp."
The Deputy Governor looked with
creasing compassion at the poor
idow whom a harsh wind had torn
om her native forest and cast into
ris like a withered leaf. He felt his
icial heart growing softer, and smnil
g again he said:
"I am from Argonne. I lived near
ur village for a lung time, at 0Cr
ont." And then he added, Gayly:
eep up your courage, Mmne. Blouet.
hope we shall be able to hclp you.
nl you give ,.ne your address T'
"o. 12 Rue de la Sante, near the
puchin Convent. Thank you, sir,
r your kindness. 1 amn very gl- t
tve found a felinw-conutrymim." .1
tr courtesies the widow took h e
As soon as she wis gcana M. ThE.
lie rose , and go::v to the wi?-2., '
oi looking dowa Ni tlo<g a
was not looking at the tnps of 1h.
diileatless chestnut trees; hi ams'u
m: adre o:T toward the at,
"WIy not?" Vetured the w@ Iay
"I think it would please him." An<
then, seeing that he was looking a
them wonderingly, she went towar<
"AL Bouville, you have alread
oeen so kind to us that I am going t<
ask of you another favor. It is late,
and you have a long way to go-w<
should be so glad if you would sta:
here and taste our tot-fait-shouldn'
"Certainly," said the girl, "but M
Boinville will have a plain dinner, ani
besides he is, no doubt, expected a:
"No one is waiting for me," an
swered the gentleman, thinking of hi<
usual dull, solitary meals in the restan
rant. "I have no engagement, but-"
he hesitated, looked at Claudette'
smiling eyes, and suddenly exclaimed
"I accept with pleasure."
"That is right I" said the old lady
briskly. "What did I tell you, Clau
dette? Quick, my pet, set the tabl<
while I go back to my tot-fait."
The girl had already opened th<
press and taken out a striped table
lotn and three napkins, and in the
twinkling of an eye the table wai
ready. Then she lighted a candle and
went down stairs, while the old dame
sat down with her lap full of chest
nuts, which she proceeded to crael
and place upon the stove.
"Is not that a bright, lively girl?'
she said. "She is my consolation; sh<
cheers me like a linnet on an oli
Heze the speaker rattled the chest
nuts on the stove and then Claudette
reappeared, and the little woman went
and brought in the potee and set it,
steaming and fragrant, on the table.
Seated between the octogenarian
and the artless, smiling girl and in the
midst of half rural surroundings, which
constantly recalled the memory of his
youth, Hubert Boinville, the Deputy
Governor, did honor to the potee.
His grave, cold manner thawed out
rapidly, and he conversed familiarly
with. his new friends, returning the
gay sallies of Claudette and shouting
with merriment at the sound of the
patois words and phrases which the oli
From time to time the widow wouli
rise and go to attend to her cookery,
and at last she returned triumphant,
bringing in an iron baking dish, in
which rose the gently swelling, golden.
brown tot-fait., smelling of orange
Then came the roasted chestnuts is
their brown, crisped shells.
When Claudette -had cleared the
table the grandmother took up her
knitting mechanically and sat near the
stove, chatting gayly at first, but she
now yielded to the combined effects o:
the warmth and fell asleep. Claudette
put the lamp on the table, and she
and the visitor were left to entertain
each other. The girl, sprightly and
light-hearted, did nearly all the talk
When he returned to his gloomy
bachelor apartment those eyes weni
before him, and seemed to laugh
merrily as he stirred his dull fire, ani
then he thought again of the dinner
in the cheerful room, of the fire blaz
ing up gayly in the delft stove, and ol
the young girl's merry prattle, whici
LZmporarily resuscitated- --he
sensation of Aytswenty-fli'st year.
Nore than once he went to the mirroz
and looked gloomily at his gray
streaked beard, thought of his loveless
youth and of his increasing years, ani
said with La Fontaine:.
"Have I passed the time for lov
Then he would be seized with a sort
of tender homesickness which filled
him with dismay and made him regrei
that he had never married.
One cloudy afternoon towards the
end of December the solemn ushe2
opened the door and announced:
"Mine. Blonet, sir."
Boinville rose eagerly to greet his
visitor, and inquired, with a slighi
blush, for her granddaughter.
"She is very well, sir," was the an
swer, "and your visit brought her luck;
she received an appointment yesterday
in a telegraph office. I could not thinig
of leaving Paris without again thank
ig yqu sir, for your kindness to us."
Boinville's heart sank.
"You are to leave Paris; is this post
ion in the provinces?"
"Yes, in the Vesges. Of course, J
shall go with Claudette; I am over
eighty years old, and cannot have
much longer to live ; we sall] never
part in this world."
"Do you go soon?"
"In January. Good-by, sir; you
have been very kind to us, and Clan
dette begged me thank you in he,
The Deputy Governlor was thunder
struck, and he answered only in mono
syllables, and when tihe good swoman
had left him he sat motionless for a
Long time with head in his hands.
That night he slept badly, and the
et day was very taciturn with is
Towards 3 o'clock he brushed hie
lat, left the office and jumped into a
cab that was passing, and half an houw
later he hurried through the market
garden of 12 Rue de la Sante and
knocked tremblingly at Mine. Blouet'e
door. Claudette answered the knock,
ad on seeing the Deputy Governor she
star ed and blushed.
"Grandmother is out," she said,
"but she will soon be home, and she
will be so glad to see you."
"I have come to see, not your grand.
nother, but yourself, Mlle. Claudette,
"Me !" she exclaimed, anxiously, ani
"Yes, you," in an abrupt tone, ani
then his throat seemed to close and be
could hardly speak.
"You are going away next month?'
he asked at last.
The girl nodded assent. . 2
"Are you sorry to leave Paris?'
"Yes, indeed, I am. It grieves me
to think of it; bat, then, this positioz
is a fortune to us, and grandmothea
will be able to liv;o in peace for the
rest of her days."
"Supoose I should offer you the
same means of romaining in Paris, at
the same tima assnring comfort tc
"Oh, sirx!" exclaimed the young girl,
her face brightening.
"It is rather a violent remedy," he
aid, hesitating again. "Porhaps yet
would think it too great an effort?"
"Oh, no ; I am very resolute. Only
tel me what it i:-.
7e took a long breath, and then sad
quietly, almost harshly "Wil yo
"Heaven!" she gasped, in avoice ol
deep emotion, but although her face
expressed the deepest surprise, there
was no sign of repugnance or alarm.
Her bosom heaved, her lipaparted and
her eyes became moist with tender
Boinville dared not look at her, les
he should read refusal in her face, but
at last, alarmed by her long silence,
heraised hishead, saying: "You thini
me too old-you are frightened-"
"Not frightened," she answere&
simply, "but surprised, andr-glad. It
is too good. I can hardly believe it."
I "My darling !" he cried, taking both
her hands, "you must believe it. I
am the one to be glad, for I love you."
She was silent, but there was no
mistaking the tenderness and gratitude
that were shining in her eyes, and
HEubert Boinville must have read them
aright, fo: he drew her closely to
him, and, meeting with no resistance,
raised her hands to his lips and kissed
them with youthful fervor.
"Oh!" cried the old lady, appearing
on the scene at that instant, and the
others turned round, he a little con
*used, the girl blushing but radiant.
"Do not be shocked, Mme. Blouet,"
said the Deputy Governor. "The
evening that I dinel here I found a
wife. The ceremony will take place
next month-with your permission."
-From the Frnch, in Short Stories.
HE HANDLED THE BONDS.
T. Pierpont Morgan, the New Yorb
Banker Who I Worth $40,000,000.
The success of President Cleveland's
late bond issue is due In great part to
J. Pierpont Morgan, the famous New
York banker, whose wealth, at a con
servative estimate, is said to reach
$40,000,000. He gives away in charity
more than any man in the United
States, but his right hand is an utter
stranger to his left, and an invariable
accompaniment of his good gifts Is the
proviso that his name must be kept
,hidden, on the penalty of no further
F subscriptions. He is a man of com
J. PIEnPONT MORGAN.
manding physique, and his hair and
mustache are gray. His face is ruddy
wIth exercise and good living, and he
should by all these signs be an ex
tremely good-natured personage. He
affects, however, a brusqueness and a
reserve that hides all this when he is
downtown, and he can freeze a bore
more quickly and effectually than any
oher man in New York- City.
In htikeg-life . or
that a father and husband and host
should be. In his town house at 21')
Madison avenue, or his homes at New
port and Highland Falls, he is courtesy
and hospitality itself. Mr. Morgan is
a. member of a score of the...eading
clubs in New York, London and Paris,
but he rarely goes to them, and seldom
goes to social functions or to the opera
or theater. He is seldom seen on the
street, for he sticks closely to his desk
from 9 until 4 o'clock. His one hobby
is his steam yacht, the May, which he
bought In England for $175,000. It
deserves that hackneyed definition, a
"floating palace," and he spends all
his spare time in summer aboard of it.
Mrs. Morgan, who was Miss Frances
Tracy, has many charities of her own
concerning which she Is as modest as
is hg husband.
.... FANCY SKATING,
A Pew Dliustrations of Some of the@
One of the prettiest movements madk
by fancy skaters is the grapevine. It
is made by describing a number of S's
or figure 8's close together until a com
plete circle of them is made. It is pret,
ty, but takes an expert to do it, The
spread eagle circle made backward Is
not so difficult, but a beginner will
take a few tumbles before he makes
It The Dutch r-o1l backward, a double
circle, is another easy and pretty fig
One of the most graceful is a double
circle performed by the eight forward,
inner edge, two turns, returning on the
left foot backward, two turns to the
right The Maltese cross is an old fa
vorite. By beginning at the center the
twelve lines of the figure can be de-.
scribed without going over the same
The tulip is one of the hardest and at
the same time prettiest figures. To
show this off In perfection a slight
sprinkling of snow is needed. There are
sixteen lines and two stems to be do
scribed, and none but an expert shogd
gttemp la '
ineyond the plains and the' chalky hil
jof Champagne, past a large forest, to
:a valley where a quiet river flowed ba
Atween two rows of poplar trees, to a
Sittle old town with tile-roofed houses.
There his early childhood had been
assed, and later his vacations. His
ather, who was Registrar in the office
of the Chief Justice, led a narrow, mo
notonous life, and he himself was ac
customed to hard-work and strict dis
cipline. He had left home when in
'his ' -enty-first year, and had returned
only to attend his father's funeral.
Possessing a superior intellect ano
an iron will, and bein - an indefatiga
ble worker, he had r.sen rapidly on
the official ladder, and at thirty-eight
years of age was made Deputy Gov
ernory Austere, punctual, reserved
and coldly polite, he arrived at his
office every morning at exactly ten
o'clock and remained there until six,
taking work with him when he went
home. Although he was possessed of
keen sensibilities, his bearing was so
reserved and undemonstrative that he
was thought cold and stern.
He saw very little of society, his life
being devoted to business, and he had
never had enough leisure to think of
marrying. His heart, indeed, had
once asserted itself before he had left
home, but as then he had neither po
sition nor fortune ; the girl he lovedhad
refused him in order to marry a rieb
This early disappointment had left
in Hubert Boinville a feeling of bitter
ness which even the other successes of
his life could not wholly efface, and
there was still a tinge of melancholy
in his being. The old lady's voice and
accent had recalled the thought of the
past, and his quiet was overwhelmed
by a flood of recollections. While he
stood there motionless, with his fore
head pressing against the window
pane, he was stirring, as one would a
heap of dead leaves, the long slumber
ing memories of his youth, and like a
sweet delicate perfume rose the
'.houghts of by-gone scenes and days.
Suddenly he returned to his chair,
drew ime. Blouet's petition to him
and wrote upon it the words: "Very
deserving case." Then he rang his
bell and sent the document to the
clerk in charge of the rehef fund.
On the day of the official assent to
Mime. Blonet's position, M. Boinville
left his office earlier than usual, for
the idea had occurred to him to an
nounce the good news himself to his
Three hundred francs. The sum was
out a drop in the enormous reservoir
of the ministerial fund, but to the
poor widow it would be as a beneficent
Although it was December the
weather was mild, so Hubert Boinville
walked all the way to the Rue de la
Sate, and by the time he reached his
destination that lonely neighborhood
was wrapped in gloom. By the light
of a gas lamp near the Capuchin Con
vent he saw "Number 12" over a half
open door in a rough stone wall, and,
on entering, found himself in a largr
He could just distinguish in the
darkness square plots of vegetables,
some groups of rose bushes, and here
and there the.silhouettesof fruit trees.
At the other end of the garden two or
dhree dim lights showed the front of a
Deputy Governor made his way, and
ad the good luck to run against the
gardener, who directed him to the
Widow Blonet's lodgings upstairs.
After twice stumbling on the muddy
steps, M.L Boinville knocked at a door
under which .a line of light was to be
seen, and great was his surprise when,
the door being opened, he saw before
him a girl of about twent'y years hold
ring up a lighted lamp and looking at
him with astonished eyes. She was
dressed in black and had a fair, fresh1
face, and the lamp light was shining
'on her wavy chestnut hair, round,
dimpled cheeks, smiling mouth and
himid blue eyes.
"Is this where Mmne. Blouet lives?"
asked M. Boinville after a moment's
hesitation, and the girl replied:"es
sir. Be kind enough to walk in.
Grandmother, here is a gentleman
who wants to see you."
"I am coming," cried a thin, piping
voice from the next room, and the
next minute the .old lady came trot
Iting out with her false front all awry
under her black cap, and trying to un
tie the strings of a blue apron which
"Oh," she cried in amazement on
recognizing the Deputy Governor, "is
it possible, sir? Excuse my appear
ance. I was not expecting the honor
of a visit from you. Claudette, give
M. Boinville a chair. This is my
grandchild, sir. She is all I have in
The gentleman seated himself in an
antique armchair covered with Utrecht
velvet, and cast a rapid glance round
the room, which evidently served as
both parlor and dining room.
It contained very little furniture:
A small stove of white Delft ware, next
t. which stood an old-fashioned oaken
cothes-press, a round table covered
with oilcloth and some rush-bottom
chairs, while on the wall hung two old
colored lithographs. Everything was
very neat and the place had an old
time air of comfort and rusticity. M.
Boinville explained the object of his
visit in a few words, and the widow
"Oh, thank you, sir !How good you'
are ? It is quite true that pleasant sur
prises never come singly. My grand
3hild has passed an examination in
telegraphy, and while she is waiting
for a position she is doing a little
painting for one and another. Only
to-day she has been paid for .a large
rr, and so wve have made up our
m'inis," said the grandmother, "to
celrate the event by having only
home dishes for dinner. The gar
dener down stairs gave us a cabbage,
son turnip's and potatoes to make a
pote. We bought a Lorraine sausage,
and when ya came in I had just mado
"-O", a tom-.it !" cried Boinville.
"T ais a 'tort c2 cake made of eggs,
Ira ' ndl fe:iaa. it is twenty years
?ia heard its natae and more than
., c becamae strangly animated,
ano theyon v gil, who was watching
i e:.r'.cdy, soi: a look of actual
,::.adis in hia lbrown eyes. While
ne v.-.s in in rr of tot-fait
Geet and her grand'nother turned
Locomotives of Forty Yeara Ago as
Fast as Those of To-Day.
"To the younger generation of rail
road travelers the idea that as great
speed was obtained forty years ago
from a locomotive as at the present
time seems ridiculous. Yet this Is a
fact substantiated by documentary evi
This assertion was made to a re
porter recently by M. E. Stevenson,
formerly a train dispatcher on the
Pensylivania system. Mr. Stevenson
entered railroad life as a very ycung
man in the early sixties, and for twen
ty years thereafter learned about all
there was to know in connection with
the practical side of moving locome
tires and cars and the speed of the
"Of course, I don't mean that long
distance runs were made in as short
time then as now," continued Mr. Ste
venson, "but that for short stretches
and with light loads the old-time loco
motive could cut the air fully as fast
as that almost perfect machine blow
Ing off steam outside there now.
"In the early days of the steam en
gine we were much like you are to-day
in regard to electricity. Steam was an
unknown quantity. We believed that
If the driving wheels were large
enough; if the engine coilld be made to
keep the track; and if we could find
the man to drive it, a speed of 100 miles
an hour could easily be obtained. Con
sequently all the locomotives of that
time ran to tall wheels. On many of the
railroads the engines were iamed af
ter prominent public men instead of
being numbered, and the greatest In
terest and enthusiasm prevailed over
the speed attained. .1 would like to see
Dne of thm high-wheelers given a
trial these days with the perfect road
hed in use. In those days the roadbed
was a secondary consideration, and it
was more than even chances that un
less speed was slackened considerably
at the first curve tho train would jump
"Now for facts and figures, the truth
of which can be vouched for through
documents held by the Baldwin Loco
motive Works over In Philadelphia.
During the early months of 1848 the
Central Vermont Road was approach
ing completion, and Governor Paine,
the President of the company, con
ceiyed the idea that the passenger
service of the road would require loco
motives capable of .rnning at a very
high rate of speed. A man by the
name of Campbell was the contractor
in building the line, and he was author
ized by Governor Paine to go to Phil
adelphia and offer Baldwin a cool $10,
000 for an engine which could run with
a passenger train at a speed of sixty
miles an hour.
"The great locomotive builder accept
ed the proposition and immediately un
dertook to meet the conditions stipu
lated. The work was begun early in
1843, and in March of that year Bald
win filed a caveat for his design. The
engine was completed In 1819, and was
named the Governor Paine. My father,
who was a railroad man before me,
frequently told me of the excitement
created by this locomotive upon itk
appearance in the Eastern States.
Thajirst trial of the Governor Paine
was a1 e atie
being a fraction over sIxty miles an
lour, but the passengers on the train
could be counted on one's hand, even
the officials being chary of trusting
their lives in the engineer's keeping.
That locomotive was used for several
years on the Central Vermont Road
and then rebuilt into a four-coupled
machine, that Is, making a straight
connection to four driving wheels, as
at the present time, Instead of to two.
During the career of this ePrgine It
was stated by officers of the road It
eould be started from a state of rest
and run a mile in forty-three seconds.
This was equivalent to a speed of near
ly eIghty-three miles an hour, and If
due allowance be made for the start
fom a state of rest, It will be found
that that locomotive was capable of
going at the rate of fully 100 miles an
"This speed if attained by the Con,
gresslonal limited or the Royal Blue
Line watild make the distance from
Washington to New York in a little
over two hours, taking In the stops at
Baltimore and Philadelphia, thereby
gaining in time nearly three hours.
"In that year three engines on the
same plan were turned out by Bald
win, but with cylinders 14 by 20 Inches,
and with 6-foot driving wheels, and
1were used on the Pennsylvania Road.
They weighed about 47,000 pounds and
were considered wonders.
"A speed of four miles in three min
ates, or eighty miles an hour, was re
corded for them, and upon one occa
sion President Zach Taylor was taken
In a special train over the road by one
of these machines at a speed of sixty
miles an hour. It is said that Presi
dent Taylor at the conclusion of the
trip fathered a joke that' has come
down to us in various forms. He was
asked how he enjoyed the trip, and ex
lamed with apparent enthusiasm:
"'Very much, very much.'
" 'When will you be ready to returnf
'nqured the conductor.
"'That is hard to say,' replied the
President, 'but when I am ready I'll
ae the regular train.'
"The New York Central, not to bE.
outdone, ordered one of these engines
and for several years thereafter re
markable speed was made on that
road. You no doubt wonder why these
engines were not retained up to the
present time. The answer Is that
they are too expensive, the high rate
of-speed shaking them to pieces, and
in five years making them practically
worthless. Money was not as plenty
In those days as now, and $10,000 was
quite an Item. The locomotive of thea
present time will last fully forty years,
are much more elaborate and compli
cated, but cost on an average of about
510,00, the exact amount paid for the
Governor Paine in 1849.".
According to Ruskin.
Ruskin, as an art critic, says: "Life
without industry is guilt, and industry
without art is brutality." But the
brutal man is immortal. Benee It
would follow that art Is a moralizing
force. In what way may it be regarded
as a morae lever in a materialistic agel
I rr. Enakin, with other social reformers
ofth +ay, spaksr again and again of
to simpicity and sincerity tram t
nature as the first requisites of art,
and recommends them both to
and art students. But are
and sincerity the charateristi6
age which begins to take a deepe.
terest in art, so that the latterbecomei
actually an important ethica ator in
'he refining process of society?
Art has mostly flourished Inthi&Idst
of a corrupt society, the product itself
of a perishing clvilization, reflectingp l
Its later developments a contemperwan
ous degeneracy in mind and moral
This is simply a historical common
place. Mr. Ruskin replies after this
manner: Tracing the rise, progress
and decline of high cd Isation, be
speaks of a period bearing
semblance to the times. we
wnen "conscience and -inteut
highly developed that new forim
error begin in the Inability to fulfill
the demands of the one, or to answer
the doubts of the other.* "Thin," he
says, "the .wholeness of the people If
lost; all kinds of hypocrisies and opp
sitions of science develop themselves;
their faith Is questioned on ome side
and compromised with on the other;
wealth -commonly Increases at the
same periCd of destructive ete"' 1=,
ury follows, the rin of the nation If
He shows how in such acme art be
comes the exponent of each successive
step in the downward course, not-as the
cause, but as the consequence of sck
a state of things. "If In such times fair
pictures have been misusedrhW'mUCh
more fair realities? And If Miranda
is immoral to Caliban, is that Milranda'r
fault?"-The Scottish Peview.
- A Mean Man.
"Come here, ull show you h wa
you want to blow."
.Hears angry footsteps.
"There's the horn. Now keep qulet
"You're a naughty girl for blowing
the horn as you did while baby 1&
eep."-New York World.
An honest critic is a good friend.
People with no faults have few '
Cloven feet are often foundinptent
Self-deception is the worst kind ol
Love never complains thatitaburden
A good man is killed when a boy
The faith that moves mountains be- ~
gan on grains of sand.
It doesn't make a lie any whiter to
put it on a tombstone. / i
Find a man who has no hobby, and
ou fmnd one who is not happy.
The only joys which live and grow
Ire those we share with others. -
Every drop of rain that itrikeslie
iarth does its best to give man bread.
Some people never find ont the reslt
worth of their religion until they loe
ll their money. ~ .
How much easier it
ow they ought tow
keep in the middleo
A simple barom
lling a common, w
md stripped of
'his should bei
plugged as far
pickle bottle. -
will rise into
higher than the
bottle ; in wet a
will fall to wi
nouth of the f
ale of wind,
before the gal
ater has, it i