Mower County transcript. [volume], May 16, 1888, Image 7

About Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915

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MOWER COUNTY TRANSCRIPT
WASHBURN & GORDON, Publishers.
AUSTIN. MINN
OLD SAWS IN RHYME.
Living from handto tnouth strong as an ox,
As weak as dish water as sly as a fox.
'The farthest way round is the nearest way
homo
.As bad as they make 'em as tight as a drum.
-A tox shouldn't the judge be at trial of a goose
-He litughs in his sleeve every thing has its
use.
Misfortunes do never oome singly keep mum
Making a list of it under his thumb.
Diamond out diamond like father, like son.
No love lost between them woman's work's
never done.
Biting your nose off to spite your own faoe.
Who chases a shadow has a wearisome race.
Don't sing before breakfast or you'll cry before
night
As dead as a door nail spoiling for a fight.
A penny worth of mirth beats a pound's worth
of sorrow
.As dry as a fish break to-day, buy to-morrow.
Be honest although in the poorhouse you die
God don't let the trees grow up into the sky.
As proud as a peaoook as dull as a hoe
Before you can say Jack Robinson, O.
As meek as Moses as innoeent as a lamb.
^Doesn't care fig not worth a tinker's dam.
Up to-day, down to-morrow as cross as a bear
As happy as a clam at high water like air.
Who awaits dead men's shoes may barefooted
long go
A diamond in the rough and a long row to hoe.
.As pretty as a picture as ugly as sin
When good luck is knocking the door let him
in.
vThe
apple of his eye fortune favors the brave
•Small gifts nursed to mountain size grow a
close shave.
As heavy as lead and as light as a feather
.It's all in a life time there's nothing like
leather.
Business is business th' game's not worth the
candle
It all end9 in smoke flyintr off of the handle.
—H. C. Dod-je, in Detroit Free Press.
A CAUTIOUS' CASHIER.
*The
Trick
Played Upon Him by a
Chance Resemblance.
On a certain dark night in October,
'two gentlemen might hare been seen
standing under a gaslight, at the junc­
tion of two business streets, engaged
in close conversation. They spoke in
low, cautious tones, and their faces,
beneath the flickering light, were grave
unto solemnity.
Iu the tall, slim young man, who
leaned against the lamp-post in such
a tragical attitude, and who seemed to
be doing all the talking, almost any
one might have recognized the cashier
of the First National Bank, Mr. Cleve­
land Street, while the broad
shouldered pleasant-faced gentleman,
standing with folded arms and head
hent foiward to listen, was equally
well known as Mr. George Lamoreaux,
Teal-estate agents and chosen friend of
JMr. Street.
Past them in gay procession filed the
^people returning from the theater
over the way and more than one
turned to comment curiously upon the
untimely conference. But the two
men heeded them not and the pleas
ure-seekers, as they passed on to their
homes, and straightway forgot all
iJbout the occurrence,little dreamed of
the dark secret that was being un­
folded beneath the gaslight.
For it was a dark secret. No wonder
Mr. Street's voice grew deep and im­
pressive as he proceeded to lay it be­
fore his friend.
"Six years ago," began Mr. Street,
*•1 was teller in the Kerrin Savings
Bank. One night it was broken into
and robbed of fifteen thousand dollars.
I slept in the bank at the time, and of
-course I tried to defend the property.
I had an encounter with the burglar,
but he was stronger than and I
might have fared badly if the police
hadn't come to my rescue. The rob­
ber heard them, and made his escape,
and he has never been heard of since."
Here Mr. Street paused for breath.
"Well?" said the other, looking mys­
tified.
"But," continued the cashier, "in
the struggle, I got a good sight of the
man's face, and I've always declared
.I should 1how that fact if I ever saw
:it again."
•'Well?" from his friend, still more
mystified.
••Two months ago I saw that face I
met that man and talked with him. I
meet him every day."
At length Mr. Lamoreaux was in­
terested.
"And you know him, too," pursued
Mr. Street
"I?"
"Yes, you every body knows him
••he
"Oh! come," interrupted Mr. La
inoreaux, impatiently, •'what's the
man's name?"
"He is known here as Walter Ham­
mond."
"Not the new partner in the Spring
Works?"
••The same?"
Mr. Lamoreaux uttered a low
-whistle.
"Wei/, that beats me!" he ejacu­
lated. 'The high-toned Mr. Ham­
mond that every body's running
after! Why, Street you must be mis­
taken."
"Mistaken! I know that face as if I
had seen it but yesterday. Why, man
alive, if you had lain on your back,
and looked up into that face bending
•over you, knowing that might bo the
last face you would ever look upon in
this world—if you had seen it under
the circumstances I did, I think you
would remember that face."
There was a painful silence, broken
Lamoreaux.
••Well,'' he said, "what-are you go­
ing to do about it?"
"Goodness knows, I don't" returned
Mr. Street, helplessly. "What would
you do?"
Mr. Lamoreaux gazed reflectively
out into the darkness.
•Til tell you. Street," he said,
slowly, "I wouldu't do any thing. I'd
keep an eye on tho man, and say noth­
ing. You see, he's so prominent heri',
'twould make a terrible sensation.
And if you have no evidence but your
memory, you couldn't prove anything,
anyhow."
"Yes, and his accomplices might
assassinate me, or something, too."
"That's so," promptly assented his
friend. "It's clearly your duty to
keep still."
At that instant a light flashed aoross
the street A man emerged from a
doorway opposite, stopped a moment
to light a cigar, then walked rapidly
down the street Ho was a little ab)ve
the medium height, and slender. A
heavy black mustache and square-cut
chin were all that was visible beneath
the soft cap he wore well over his eyes.
He carried his head well forward and
walked rapidly, with a light noiseless
stop.
The two men under the gaslight
ejaculated simultaneously:
"Hammond!"
•'There is some thing queer about
him," observed Mr. Lamoreaux.
"It's the shadow of a crime," said
Mr. Street, solemnly.
The town clock struck eleven. And
the two friends, by common consent,
abandoned the lamp-post and turned
their faces homeward.
Mr. Cleveland B. Street was con­
ceded by every one to be a most es­
timable yonng man. The president of
the bank spoke highly of him on all
occasions, and accasionally increased
his salary. The old ladies approved
of him and the young ladies said he
was "nice." He was a member of the
Shooting Stars Dramatic Club, the
East. End Dancing Club and Musical
Union. He sang tenor in the Presby­
terian Church. He led the uneventful
fife of the average business man and
was reasonably contented and happy.
There was, beside all this, another
circumstance which conspired to make
Mr. Street in anticipation, a most
enviable man. Miss Alice Wilson was
a handsome, vivacious brunette, who,
by her thousand winning ways, had
completely ensnared the heart of the
young cashier. Of late, she had been
perceptibly more encouraging, and he
felt serenely confident that when he
urged his suit she would not say him
nay.
Some such thoughts as these were
flitting through Mr. Street's mind, as
he stood behind the bank counter, a
few days after the disclosure beneath
the gaslight And now, as his
thoughts reverted to Mr. Hammond,
he could not repress a feeling of pity
for that unhappy man—for he must
be unhappy carrying about with him
such a memory of hidden crime. His
ill-gotten gains might bring him in­
fluence, but they could never purchase
him happiness. Mr. Street thought of
Alice Wilson, and said to himself that
he was sorry for the poor fellow.
One day a dashing equipage drew up
in front of the bank, and a lady leaned
out to speak to another on the walk.
Mr. Street's quickened sight at once
recognized, in the occupant of the car­
riage, Miss Alice Wilson. But who
was it sitting beside her and smiling
down upon her with such confident
gallantry? The cashier's eyes fol­
lowed them far up the street but that
first look had been enough—it was
Walter Hammond!
"It's queer, isn't it?" said the teller,
at his elbow, "how that Hammond
got right into society here. He shot
right up like a rocket and nobody
knows any thing about him, either,
before he came here. Well, money'11
take a body anywhere nowadays."
But the cashier was not listening.
He banged the door together and went
home to his tea, locking the door with
such a forbidding face that a man who
met him said he shouldn't wonder if
the First National had sustained a.loss
he met CL Street coming away from
there with a face as long as your arm.
That was only the beginning. Mr.
Hammond began to attend Miss Wil
son like a shadow. He escorted her
to parties, and theater and church.
Be he ever so assiduous, Mr. Street
always found his attentions to the
young lady anticipated by Mr. Ham­
mond. There was no pleasure in
calling there any more. Mr. Ham­
mond was sure to be there. Did he
aspire to take her to a place of amuse­
ment he only had the mortification of
hearing that she was *^so sorry," but
had ••just accepted an invitation."
And he would see her there with Mr.
Hammond.
Meanwhile, the cashier's face grew
graver and still more grave. The
worried lines in his forehead settled
fnto an habitual frown. The one lit­
tle cloud which had sailed so unex­
pectedly across his sky had grown
until it threatened to obscure the
whole horizon of his happiness.
Sometimes, when he saw his mys­
terious rival hovering about Miss Wil­
son, he could not repress a feeling of
exultation at the thought that, with
one word, he could banish him for­
ever from her presence. He tried to
rid himself of this feeling, which he
knew was unworthy of him, but it
would come at times in spite of him
selfc
It seemed as if he was at a sensa­
tional play, in which the deep-dyed
villain stalks about in safe disguise^
only the whole community were the
ready dupes, and I alone was the en­
lightened audience. The baleful secret
began to haunt him like a nightmare.
Like an avenging spirit it rose be­
tween him and the recreations of his
leisure hours. It confronted him from
the faco of his ledger at the bank. It
walked the streets with him and sat
down to dinner with him. It whisper­
ed to him in his dreams. Every morn­
ing he awoke with the inquiry: "What
ought I to do about HP" and every
night ho went to bod with the ques­
tion still unanswered.
And the cashier knew—how could
he help knowiug—that he was not
himself of late that he was growing
moody and preoccupied in company.
He could not help noticing the sur­
prised looks of his friends at his
changed demeanor. Still, he re­
strained himself! He recognized that
fate had commissioned him an emis­
sary of justice." In his fingers he held
the fatal noose which, some day,
would drop over the head of his victim.
He could afford to bide his time.
Bur, whatover his duty to the com­
munity at large, he owed it to Aliee
Wilson's happiness to protoct her
from this impostor. And so it came
to pass that he found himself one
evening pulling the Wilsons' front
door bell, with a fixed resolve to warn
Alice before he left the house. ort
une favored him she was alone and
intent upon his purpose, lie soon drew
Mr. Hammond's name into the con­
versation.
"He's a peculiar man, isn't he?"
said Mr. Street.
•Tin sure he's a very nice man,"
responded Mis.* Wilson, warmly.
"Yes?" said Mr. S treet with an in­
terrogation of dissent.
"Why, of course he is! I don't see
what you can possibly have against
him," she added, reproachfully.
"I! Oh! nothing, nothing," hastily
disclaimed the cashier.
"Then, if you have nothing against
him what makes you insinuate things
against him?" urged the young lady,
logically.
This was not just the idea he wished
to convey, so he made another vent­
ure.
"Haven't you observed something
mysterious about Mr. Hammond?" he
asked.
"He does look like a man who might
have a history," admitted the young
lady.
Now she was helping him on.
••Yes," he struck in eagerly "some
dark page in his life, some epoch of
trouble, or—crime."
She caught at the last word.
"What do you mean by that?" she
demanded.
Now the time had come, the cashier
hardly dared divulge his secret He
coughed, hesitated, and finally stam­
mered:
"Why!—I—that is—Mr. Hammond
teller
In fact—six years ago, I was
k"
The parlor door opened, and who
should be ushered in but Mr. Ham­
mond!
The gentleman insisted on shaking
hands with Mr. Street, although the
cashier frowned darkly upon him.
Mr. Street disregarding Miss Wilson's
warning look, opened upon Mr. Ham­
mond with the remark:
"We were speaking just now of
some one who had a mystery connect­
ed with his life."
"Indeed!" returned Mr. Hammond,
indifferently.
"How is it Mr. Hammond," asked
the cashier, "do you think a man
could successfully hide from the world
a dark secret, some terrible crime he
had committed, for instance, and go
on living, just as if it had never been
done?"
Mr. Hammoned shifted his dark
eyes uneasily from the fire to Mr.
Street and back again to the fire.
"It would depend a great deal upon
the man," he said, briefly.
••Well, take any man, take yourself
for instance."
Mr. Street tried to speak in a care­
less, theoretical tone.
Since you insist on taking me as
an illustration," said Mr. Hammond*
with a forced laugh, "why I should
think there was nothing else for a
man to do. If he hadn't nerve enough
to live it through, he'd better keep
out of it"
"But might not the memory of the
crime prey upon his mind till he felt
compeled to tell it to some one else,"
persisted Mr. Street
"He'd be a fool if ho did," retorted
Mr. Hammond.
And the enshier was stunned into
silence at the remorseless practicality
of this bold adventurer.
A few minutes later Mr. Street
took his leave, with a baffled sense
that Mr. Hammond still had the
field.
But events were hastening to a close,
independent of Mr. Street's interven­
tion. One morning came the follow­
ing dispatch:
BARUVHjLE.
There is on trial a man who is suspected of
being the robber of the Berrin Savings Bank in
*76. Couldyou identify the man? If so, oome
at once.
ISlgned]
SHERIFF OF BARRVILLE COUNTY.
Mr. Street reached for a time table.
His hands shook so that he could
scarcely see the figures. The first
train for Bai'rville left at 11:15. It
was now 10:30.
He applied to the president of the
bank for leave of absence. He showed
the president the outside of the dis­
patch. That gentleman inferred from
the cashier's pale face that it was
probably a death in the family and,
as he always associated such events in
his mind with bequests of property,
he said, readily, that they guessed
they could get along without him for
a few days. Half an hour later Mr.
Street was on the train, speeding
along toward Barrville.
In that six hours' ride* Mr. Street
lived a month of suspense. The cars
were
no sooner in motion than he
wished he had never started. If Mr.
.Hammond was convicted, let it be up*
on other evidence than his. Ho would
never havo resting upon him the re­
sponsibility of sealing tho doom of a
man who might, fur all ho knew, be
honestly trying to blot out tho past
and lead an upright life. He called
to mind every little act of kindness
tint Mr. Hammond had ever extended
to him.. His excited imagination
magnified them into boundless obli­
gations. And this was his return for
them! Mr. Street would have given a
year's salary to lie back at his desk.
At every station he went out and
stood on the platform, with a wild do
sire to get off and go—anywhere!
away from Barrville. The people in
the car began to look at him strange­
ly and suspiciously. And, in the
midst of his agonizing reflections, the
brakeman dashed open the door and
sang out: "Barrville."
How he got off the train and over
the distance to the court-house. Mr.
Street never knew. He spoke to sev­
eral persons on the way, but he
couldn't have told, for his life, what
he said to them. Tho first real­
ization of his surroundings was when
ho found himself ascending the broad
steps of the court-house, with a green
baize door in front of him—and all
hope behind him.
He hesitated a moment. That mo­
ment was decisive. The green baiz)
door was suddenly opened from with­
in, and he had no choice but to enter.
The room into which he came was the
court-room. Court was in session, and
the room was filled to overflowing. Mr.
Street's entrance was scarcely noted
every eye was strained toward the wit­
ness stand.
A man near the door made room for
Mr. Street on the bench beside him.
The cashier sank into the proffered
seat The buzz of voices in the court,
room came to him in indistinct mur­
murs, liko sounds a great distance
away. And, all the time, the man at
his side kept talking on in a desultory
fashion.
"The fellow's up for larceny," he
said. "Queer you hadn't heard about
it You'r a stranger here, ain't you?
He's the same one that robbed the
Kerrin's Saving Bank in '76. Praps
you recollect. He owned up to it
when he found they knowed it He's
been on the stand all the morning.
They're waiting for him now."
The loquacious stranger craned
his neck around to get a better view.
Mr. Street felt that he should faint
or shriek if something didn't happen.
Something did happen.
"There he is!" exclaimed the
stranger "that's him on the witness
stand. He's a holding up his hand to
be sworn. I guess you'll have to
stand up to see him."
The cashier staggered to his feet
He looked at the people, the ceiling,
the clock—it was just a quarter past
five—the jury, the lawyers, the judge.
Then, with an effort, he raised his
eyes to the prisoner—and—saw—
Not Mr. Hammond—but a man as
like him as his reflection in a glass.
Like him, but not he. There were
the same piercing eyes, the same
strongly-marked features but this
man's face bore the impress of a hard
and reckless life. It needed not his
confession of the crimes for Mr.
Street knew, now, beyond peradvent
ure, that this was the man with
whom he had grappled on that event­
ful night six years ago, and that Mr.
Hammond was as innocent of the
crime as the cashier himself.
For one moment Mr. Street stood
staring blankly at the prisoner. Then,
as the whole force of the revelation
dawned upon him, with an indescrib­
able look of horror and remorse, he
seized his hat and dashed frantically
from the building.
The night train bore away from
Barrville a man who sat bolt upright
in the corner of the seat, with his hat
crushed down over his eyes. He
neither spoke nor stirred. Ho had
seen the phantom which had pursued
him for the past year, until it had
come to seem a living reality, dissolve
and vanish before his eyes. And
it had left him dazed and be­
wildered. He no longer tried to rea­
son it out He doubted his very senses,
and grasped the arm of the seat firm­
ly, to make sure that he was not
dreaming. The romance of his life
had departed. He was no longer the
mysterious emissary who carried in
his breast a consuming secret but a.
commonplace business man, whose
thoughts any one might read.
But commonplace people sleep
soundly. That night not a dream dis­
turbed his slumbers, and the next
morning he went to his desk, a matter^
of-fact cashier.
Mr. Hammond married Miss Wilson.
Mr. Street, never told her his secret.
She asked him about it once, but he
evaded her question. When Mr.
Street congratulated Mr. Hammond,
the latter said:
"DJ you know. Street, I used to
fancy you had something against me.
You seemed almost suspicious of me.
It made me positively uneasy at
times.
But the cashier drew himself up with
dignity, and said:
"Do you take me for a fool, sir?"
Eerminius Cobb, in The Epoch.
"Now, there is a young lady,"
said Hobson to himself, "who pos­
sesses too much innate modesty and
refinement to appear in full evening
costume, and I'll win her if I can."
And ho did win her, and shortly after
marriage she said to him: "I shall be
dreadfully disappointed, dear, if we
can not find some physician in Europe
who will be able to remove that
wretched little mole from my shoul­
der."
IN THE MOUNTAINS.
A Nashville Man'* Rxperlence In a How
TeoneiiM Town.
One of the young men of the New
South, who has spent some time in
New York, is C. B. Duncan, of Nash­
ville. He is the oldest son of W. M.
Duncan, one of the leading men of
Tennessee's capital. "Charley" Dun
caa is an energetic young fellow, who,
although Utile past his majority, has
already begun to push his way in tho
world. H) is cashier of a bank at
Nashville. His first banking experi­
ence, however, was in the mountains
of East Tennessee, as cashier of the
only bank at South Pittsburg. This
is one of the new iron towns that are
springing up all over Tennessee and
Alabama. It was projected by tho
Tennessee Coal and Iron Company,
which owns the large furnaces there
and most of the land. In talking
about his experiences, Mr. Duncan
said: "The natives of the section had
never so much as heard of a bank.
They did not know what a bank was
for until it had been explained to
them that it was a place to keep
the money, and then I fancy
some of the rougher ones thought it
was a good place to make a haul from
by putting a bullet through the cashier
and running away with the money.
For a long time I had to sleep in it
every night with a couple of loaded
revolvers ready for execution, and my
hair in a wire-spring condition. Fin al­
ly I persuaded an old half-breed In­
dian to watch for me. He was a man
who did not know what fear was, and
would as soon shoot as take a drink.
The money that they used to bring
into the bank was a curiosity. There
were greenbacks of the very first is­
sues, which had been hidden away in
old places until the stuff fairly stank.
Sometimes it smelled so foul thatl had
to open the window before I could
count it, aud then it was as much as 1
could do to stand it."
One of Mr. Duncan's experiences
was with a man who wanted to buy
eggs. There had been for a time a
grocery store in the same building
with the bank. One day a country­
man came in who had been
drinking until he had scarcely
any sense left in him. He was a
lank mountaineer, with top boots and
spurs, and the butt end of a revolver
peering out over his hip. "I want
some yeggs," he said. "We don't
keep any eggs, sir," was the young
cashier's reply. "Yes you do. I got
yeggs yeah befoah, and I want yeggs
now." The cashier again explained
that he was not selling eggs', but it
made no impression on the drunken
man, who reiterated his demand more
strenuously than before, enforcing it
with oaths and a movement of his
hand to his hip pocket where the re­
volver rested. Young uncan mean­
while had been slowly moving to a
spot on the desk where his own weap­
on lay, ready cocked for action. He
suddenly leveled the pistol at the
mountaineer's head and coolly said:
"It you touch your pistol you are a
dead man. I don't keep eggs, and if
you don't clear out I'll shoot you
sure." This was the kind of an argu­
ment that had some effect. Tho
drunken man was sober in an instant
and looking down the mouth of the
revolver he replied meekly: "AH
right boss. No offense meant I
reckon. I thought you kept yeggs.
Good-day."—Ar. T. Tribune.
MILLINERY OPENING.
The Effect It Has on the Average Amer­
ican Woman.
It is at this time of the year that
ninety-nine out of every one hundred
women in America discover that
they "simply must have new bonnets."
Those ninety-nine women assemble in
a body at the spring opening of mil­
linery goods, and they "go on" liko
this:
"Isn't that pink bonnet beautiful T'
"Oh, yes but do look at this exquis­
ite thing in blue!"
"Isn't it lovely!"
"It's perfectly heavenly
"Do see this charming thing in the
new shade of green!"
"How do you like this?'
"How odd the combination is but
it's sweet pretty."
••Do see this lovely hat!"
•Oh! oh! oh!"
••Charming!"
"Isn't it?"
"Did you ever see a more perfectly
beautiful spray of flowers?"
••Don't you like the ribbon trim­
mings?"
••They say feathers are coming in
again."
"What are you going to get?"
"Oh, I'm half wild trying to decide,
There are so many lovely things!"
"I know. Isn't it hard to choose?"
••Oli, it fairly makes me sick."
"Do. do, do see this blue and pink
combination!''
"O-o-o-h!"
"How sweet!"
"Beautiful!"
"See this odd ribbon."
•*Aren't the ribbons lovely this
year?"
"Every thing's lovely!"
"That's true!"
"I can't make up my mind what I
do want!''
"Nor I—it's so distracting!"
"This rich dark brown is beauti
fuL"
"Lovely!"
"Perfectly exquisite
"Indeed it is/"
"Oh. how beautiful all the bonnets
are!"
"Exquisite/"—Detroit Free Press.
—Poor old Brown Couuty, in In­
diana, has not a foot of railroad in it
and but one saloon. They are still
voting for General Jaokson.
FOREIGN gossip.
'"—Count von Moltke wears a yellow
-v
—The Nova Scotia gold mines yield­
ed about $500,000 last year.
—Buenos Ay res, in the Argentine
Republic, is now the largest city in
South America, the census
pt
1887
giving it a population of 484,000.
—There are thirty-seven tunnels of
more than 1,030 yards in England, the
longest being that of the Severn—7,664
yards.
—It is stated that the number of
youths of noble rank in Italy, studying
for the Roman priesthood, is smaller
to-day than ever before within the
memory of man.
-Tea-drinking is rapidly increasing
In France, especially in the wine­
growing district It is recommended
as not only the best digestive, but as
the surest means of sustaining intel­
lectual energy.
—Alpine guides are in demand in
the Himalayas in the Caucasus, and
among the New Zealand Alps and a
British mountaineer recently asserted
that our own Mount St Elias would
never be ascended without the aid of a
few professional Swiss climbers.
—Electric lights have been put ia
the Paris morgue, with, an idea of in­
creasing the effect produced upon mur­
derers upon being confronted with
their victims. Under the effect of the
light the "confrontations" are ex*
pected to be much more effective.
—M Bapst, a Paris jeweler, in a re­
cent lecture alleged that the sacredly
guarded scepter of Charlemagne is
nothing more than a musician's baton,
and that underneath the red velvet
surrounding the handle are engraved
the words: "This baton is my prop­
erty singer in Notre Dame
1280."
—The Czar of Russia is said to do
much more work than any of his min­
isters, and can be found at his desk at
almost any hour of the day. He rises
before any of his household, attends
mass every morning, and is scrupu­
lously exact in the performance of all
his religious duties.
—Schneckenburger. the author of
"Die Wacht am Rhein," is to have a
monument at Tuttlingen, Germany,
expressing the sentiment of his song.
A fund of $7.500 has been raised for
the purpose, and the Grand Duke of
Saxe-Weimar is president of the mon­
umental committee. German-Amer­
icans have contributed liberally to the
fund.
—A most admirable charity is that
of the Salvation Army in London,
which has opened a restaurant where
a meal may be bought for a farthing.
The small coin pays for a bowl of soup
or a half loaf of bread, and two far­
things secures a cup of coffee or cocoa
and a slice of bread and jam. Thus
for about two cents a wholesome meal
can be bought Threepence brings
meat and potatoes and a halfpenny a
dish of rice.
JAPANESE HAND-STOVES.
A Device That Ought to Be Adopted in
This Country.
A great institution that one learns
to appreciate now is the kairo, or
Japanese hand-stove, a little tin or
copper box covered with gay-pattern
ed cotton cloth, and about the size of
an ordinary purse. It is an innocent
looking thing, but glows with a steady
lieat that does not waver, and stops
jiist short of burning or scorching.
The hidden fire is supplied by means
of a stick of fine charcoal incased in
paper, that when lighted at one end
burns with a steady glow for four or
five hours, leaving behind a soft
white ash. It is said that this pul­
verized charcoal is made from bam­
boo and persimmon leaves, but if so it
is probable that they are charred
more for economy's sake than
for any special qualities they
possess. The kairo is cent­
uries old in Japan, but a great im­
provement upon rubber bags and hot
water bottle3 of Western people. With
a kairo in ihe pocket or in the hand
one san brave the coldest ride, and
for ailments there is nothing like it.
Foreign physicians use thokairo with
all hot applications, keeping poultices
steaming for hours at a time, binding
kairos on the head and neck of neu­
ralgic patients, and on the chests of
those a dieted with colds.
In traveling the kairo is the comfort
of life, a match being all that is re­
quired to start the tropical glow for
one's fingers and when wrapped up
in a rug with kairos properly dis­
tributed about one can remain on
deck in the coldest weather. When
the deathly agony and misery of sea*
sickness assails one, the kairo is better
than all the bromides and powders
compounded, the little firebox re­
maining at its post when nothing
else can be kept on the
stomach. In damp and mildewy sea­
sons and places the shrewd housewives
scatter kairos in the beds, the trunks
and the linen closets, as with one stick
of carbon the little stove keeps up its
gentle heat for more than four hours,
und by putting in two pieces it burns
for six and eight hours. The little
box of perforated tin or copper, with
its calico covering and sliding top,
costs from three cents to ten cents,
and the carbons, that come in a paper
like firecrackers, are only one cent for
ten. The Japanese carry a kairo in
their long sleeves, where they can hold
it in their hands or slip it in their
broad girdles, where the warmth will
spread and generally cheer them the
most Why the exporters have never
taken up the kairo with enthusiasm is
a xiiystery. Next after tea the kairo
la the greatest blessing Japan can give
to the world.—Cor.
Democrat
SL Louis
Qlobe-*