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CHAS. G. MOREAU, Editor and Publisher.
VOL. 11. A WHITEWASHED TREE. God made the noble foreat tree With graceful branched spreading tree, He paints its trunk of varied buo In neutral tints to nature true, Its coloring in every part In harmony with perfect art. He made it in His perfect plan To give its grateful shade to man. Oh, who so far from nature's heart. So lost to every sense of art, That he should e'er with vandal hand Degrade a thing so nobly planned? No profane hand with whitened brush, Should seek to paint below its bush That roughened stem in any part— For art is nature, nature art. Go to the forest, still and wide, And wield the brush on every side, Go to the graceful sycamore And paint its mottled beauties o'er. Your brush in ghastly whiteness soak, Then pallet he elm, disguise the oak. Oh, silly worm, complacent clod I Can you Improve a work of God? Oh, pale, strange specters that I meet In every silent village street, Ungratefully art thou repaid With cold, white shroud tor friendly shade. Thy kindly shadows kiss the hand That wraps thee with a ghastly band; With all my heart I pity thee, Oh. strange, sad sight, a whitewashed treel —T. J. Matthews, in Chicago News. StAMBSM© flff! Mitm The (j / /"a [Copyright, 1893, 'MJ j by the Author. 1 L__ 'Up I Wjljj ljjl& Tis all very well Mmm f° r Dives, revel hr? in & in P ur Pl j M L J vM MI ** anc * ® nc ** nen tfa WI /1\ 1 and faring It I m sum pt u ously I every day, with w everything’ about him calculated to make life pleasant, to sit in his arm-chair and talk in a grandiloquent way about the cowardice of the suicide. If Dives had been in my shoes on a certain night in the merry month of May, some few years ago, and felt the pangs of hunger as I felt them, I fancy somehow he would be strongly inclined to modify his opinions. Hungry? I was hungry! Andwhenat two o’clock in the morning, having tramped it from Cambridge, I flung my self down on the grass just outside the grand stand on Newmarket Heath, I felt so utterly done up, faint and ex hausted, that I would have gladly wel comed death in any shape or form at that moment. Well born, and my early days passed in the lap of luxury, there I lay like a dog, hungry (I had neither had bite nor sup for twenty-four hours) with no money to buy food, and without a friend or relative in the world to lend me a helping hand; and yet Dives and his friends would have called me a coward had I put an end to my wretch ed existence. It was lucky that I had not the means to do so—not even a pocket knife—that memorable May night, otherwise the trainers when they came on to the Heath with their horses in the early morning would have as suredly found something that they would not have cared about looking at twice. Bodily exhaustion, as a rule, pro duces sleep, but very often, if it is too pronounced, it has a precisely opposite effect. So it proved in my case. Faint and weary, as I was, the repose I so much needed flatly declined to come to my rescue. So I lay awake, thinking, thinking— always thinking; now of the past, now of the future—for I was still young, and, downtrodden as I was, still capa ble of building castles in the air. It was one of these palatial edifices I found myself building now, odd though it may seem. One of the trainers at the headquar ters of the turf had taken me up and given me a position of trust in his es tablishment. One of our horses had won the Cesarewitch and Cambridge shire, and I, beside “standing in” with the stable when they backed him, had won a small fortune by supporting him at long odds, for the double event, on my own account The whole thing seemed so real that 1 felt for the mo ment quite buoyant and happy, and should in all probability have shortly gone off into a tranquil doze, when all of a sudden the sound of human voices in the distance and the unmistakable tramp of horses’ feet fell upon my ear. It would not be daylight for at least an hour yet. Who could they be? Now, I was well-versed in turf mat ters—in faet, to speak the truth, it was in a great measure my partiality for the sport of kings that had brought me to the position I found myself in; con sequently on bringing my mind to bear on the subject, I very quickly solved the riddle—or thought I had, at all nts. Yes. I had, I felt sure. only possible excuse for a trainer his horses on to the Heath at of the morning was to bring and what was more a very *oo, just ten days all in favor of Derby trial onvinced, witness ile Sea inasl (film. reached the rear of the stand, well out of sight, when I ventured to peep out. There, standing exactly opposite the racecourse, itself, were five horsemen. One I recognized immediately dark as it was as a well-known trainer who had a prominent Derby favorite under his charge; the other four, three of whom were mounted on thoroughbreds, hooded and clothed, were evidently jockeys. The morning was still, and 1 could hear every word the trainer uttered. “You know what to do now, don’t you?” said he, addressing a jockey who was astride a chestnut with two white hind legs. “Frank will make the pace as hot as he can with the old horse, and if you can hold him all the way on the young ’un, beat him at the finish, or even run- him close, the Derby’s all over but shouting. So now cut away, my lads, down to the starting post. I’ll stop here, exactly opposite the judge’s box, and Bob Joyce will start you.” Not another word was said. The trainer tobk up his position, the others cantered aivay down the course, and last, but not least, I crawled on all fours from my hiding place, and crept along under cover of the darkness until I had taken the trainer in flank. He was in front of the judge’s box; I was just beside it That was the only difference between us. A faint yellow light just appeared on the horizon, denoting that daylight would soon be with us, when a slight noise in the distance caused his cob to prick his ears and the trainer to turn his head sharp to the left, and peer into the darkness. “They’re off!” I heard him exclaim, as the sound .of horses galloping could now be plainly heard. On they came nearer and nearer. Crack, went .a whip. Someone was calling on his horse for an effort. The next instant the three horses flashed past us; the chesDinl Hh the white hind legs first. The trainer gave his thigh a triumph ant smack, as he exclaimed: “By the Lord Harry, but he’s a stone better than I thought he was.” Now was my time for action, and I seized it. “I congratulate you, Mr. Snaffle,” was all I said. Short speech as it was, it was quite enough to nearly make the trainer tumble off his horse with astonish ment “VV-w-where did you come from— and what business have you here?” he stammered, grasping his hunting whip “I CONGRATULATE YOU, MB. SNAFFLE.” at the same time in rather an ominous manner. “Never mind, sir, where I came from,” replied I, coolly, “but I don’t in the least mind telling you my business on the Heath this morning. I came here expressly to see the Butterfly Colt put through the mile for the Derby, and I congratulate you, now I have witnessed it, on having such a good horse in your stable. Good morn ing, Mr. Snaffle.” “Here, not so fast!” exclaimed the trainer. “I’m not going to let you go like this. Come, you don’t look quite so well to do in the world as you might; what will you take to come to my house straight away and remain there until, say, four o’clock this afternoon? After that I’ll give you leave to go away and tell all about the trial to everyone you meet Will you take five hundred?” “Down on the nail, and the promise of another monkey if the Butterfly colt wins the Derby and I’m on,” was my reply. “Done!” said the trainer, holding out his hand for me to shake. “Don’t say a word to the others,” he whispered, “bnt come along with me at once.” I was in no hurry to leave the worthy man, as the reader may guess; on the con trary, no leech was ever more anxious to cling to a human body than I was to him, had he known. I accordingly hung on to the trainer's. stirrup and trotted by his side ns he went off to join the horses, who had now pulled up and were waiting for him. Silence was the order of the day, but there was a very satisfied look on everybody’s face that spoke more elo quently than words, as the order for “march” being given the small troop of cavalry, Mr. Snaffle and nrfvilf taking up the rear, moved off towards the “top o’ the town,” where the trainers’ stables were situated. That worthy did not want to lose sight of me, it was very evident; for no sooner had he jumped off his hack and handed it to a lad, than seizing me bv he said: “Now, my man, 1 and I BAY ST. LOUIS, MISS., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1893. dismounted, seemed rather astonished as they glanced somewhat comtcmptu ousiy at my general get-up and appear ance, which I need scarcely say had been allowed to run to seed terribly of late, but whatever their thoughts were they took care not to express them. You see they know how to hold their tongues at Newmarket. My story is done. Suffice it to say that whilst I was in his house, on pa-, role as it were, the trainer “did” mo uncommonly well—the breakfast I ate that morning was a caution—and kept his word to the letter as to monetary arrangements. After all, said and done, the sum I was paid for holding my tongue was not a penny too much, for the large commission that was worked that very morning all over London could never have been executed at the good price it was, had I chosen to open my mouth. However, as long as I was satisfied that was all that was necessary. The Butterfly colt won the Derby, and as I had backed him on my own account for a cool hundred, beside the “monkey” to nothing I was put on by the stable, I felt remarkably comfort able when settling day arrived. I invested my earnings in a share in an iS. P. book in a manufacturing town in the Midlands, and a very profitable con cern it is; so profitable, indeed, that I rarely if ever b ack one now. If 1 do, it is one in my old friend Snaffle’s stable, you may depend. The Tough Girl Set* the Fashion. Who would have supposed (certainly not even the actress who cleverly made the part in Ilarrigan’s play) that the tough girl would furnish the fashion able belle of the present season with the suggestion for something new in dancing. Yet so it is, and if anybody will watch the romping quadrilles this summer at any of the fashionable hotels they will see the reigning beauties, the favored daughters of fortune putting in very much the same steps and a good deal of the motion now associated on the stage with the girl of the Bowery. High stepping, kicking in front and even kicking behind are features of the lively dancing at present in vogue. Not only so, but fancy steps, such as be longed to jigs and reels in the olden time, are high style, and walking through quadrilles and making stately bows have had their day. The fashion able gallant who is now considered a good partner is the one who can chasse down the middle or “cut a pigeon wing” after the manner of Billy Bummy at a Moya jamboree.—Philadelphia Times. Size in Flies. To convince householders that the small flies on their window-panes never grow to be large ones—in fact, nevei grow at all—-is a task of no little diffi culty sometimes. The difference of size in flies is always the distinction of sex or species, but never of age. With the exception of the gradual unfolding of its crumpled wings, no change comes over the aspect of the fly from the mo ment of its birth from the chrysalis to that of its death. A big fly is no more a little fly grown up than a horse is an old pony, or a goose a fully-developed duck. All the growth of the fly is ac complished in the maggot state; then a short, period of somnolence as a smooth, brown chrysalis intervenes, from which finally the young fly springs, like Minerva from the head of Jove, full sized as well as fully armed.—N. Y. World. A Patient Man. “You’re a scientific man, ain’t you?” he said. “Yes.” “Do you think, honestly, that it’s possible for a man to prolong his life?” “Assuredly.” “ Well, Cap., take me under trainin’ right now. I’ll sign a contract for a hundred years with the privilege of re newal at the end of that time.” “Why, man, I can’t undertake any thing like that. What do you want to live so long for, anyhow? Any sensible man would get enough of this life in eighty or ninety years.” “Maybe he would; but it’s a matter of curiosity to me.” “What do you mean?” “Well, you see, the government owes me money. Ain’t any doubt about its owin’ the claim at all. An’ somehow er other I’ve got a fool idea that I’d like to be on hand to see it paid.”—Wash ington Star. Disqualified. To be a great historian one must be endowed with what is known as the “historic imagination,” but he must also be on his guard against abusing it. “John.” said the teacher, “in you? essay upon George Washington you say that he was not fond of fishing. What is your authority for that asser tion?” “Why,” answered Johnny, “we have always been told that he could not tell a lie.”—Chicago News. A Souvenir. A. —I am in a dreadful fix. Do, please, lend me ten marks. B. —But you have got a diamond ring; why don’t you pawn it? A. —I cannot find it in my heart to do so; the ring is a memento of my de ceased aunt. B. —Really? Well, then, ray money is a memento of my deceased father.— Der Bar. —Daughter (looking up from her novel)—“Papa, in the time of trial what do you suppose brings the most comfort to a man?” Papa (who is a district judge)—“An acquittal, I should “FEAnrjEsa im at.t. things.” FROM FAIR FRANCE, * Rare and Beautiful Exhibits at the Columbian Exposition. Pictures That Delight the Parisian’s Heart and Brlo-a-Brac That Is Very Costly—Various Notes of Interest. [Special Chicago Correspondence ! In all the vast array of splendid ex hibits in the mammoth building de voted to the manufactures and liberal arts at the world’s fair there are none more curious and beautiful than those contained in the department of France. Each of the different nations repre sented has contributed lavishly of its choicest productions in the various A TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLAR VASE. lines, and there is a strong spirit of rivalry among them for the honor of having the finest display; but it is ex ceedingly difficult for the unprejudiced observer to determine to whom the honor belongs. France, however, is justly entitled to rank with the best in the display of paintings and odd arti cles of bric-a-brac. One may stroll for, FRENCH BUILDING. hours among the wonders of other ex hibits, and at each succeeding one de clare it to be better than those before it, but when he has been thorough the French section he is free to pronounce it unsurpassed in the whole exposition. It would require much space to enumerate the attractions of this ex hibit. Principal among them are some among the fine pottery. very fine pieces of art pottery, colored statuettes and table wares. In some instances the prices are given, the articles being on sale, to be delivered at the close of the fair, and it almost takes one’s breath away to see the im mense valuation placed upon some of the smaller pieces. But they are only for people who have long purses and do not mind the outlay so long as their taste for art is gratified. Poor people who find themselves wandering about iwon# the J’ioh Aiid eoatly wtioi** to freely displayed on every hand view them in a mechanical way and pass on thinking no doubt that they are all very fine but entirely useless as far as they are concerned. Passing by some of the expensive statuettes the other day an elderly, homespun-looking sort of a woman paused and gazed curiously at a tiny pink cherub with blue wings and yel low hair, about the neck of which was hung a card bearing the notice: “Sold, $25.” After an indignant sniff or two she turned to a woman atfiher elbow and said: “My land! Twenty-five dol lars for that little chancy doll! The one that bought it must hev more money nor brains. IVe got one to home on our mantle twict as big as that and a heap purtier and it only cost half a dollar.” Later on the old lady came across a vase in the Japanese section which boro the price, $20,000, upon it. She didn’t have any at home that was bigger or better than it was, but she said, as she looked askance at the high priced piece of pottery, that she’d be hanged before she’d pay that much for a “uo-count pot.” It is not only in the Manufactures building that the French vie with the other nations in their exhibits. The Art palace contains many surpassingly beautiful works, which will not suffer by comparison with those of any coun try under the sun. In fact, in the opin ion of some of our best painters, France leads them all in the art display. True, some of her pictures were determined by the art committee to be a trifle too bald, but they were becomingly draped with opaque hangings and the multi tude can view the splendid exhibit without any offense to its sense of pro priety. . The French building proper, situated on the lake front north of the Ceylon building, contains many features of in terest. The building itself is quite im posing. As viewed from the north it presents somewhat the appearance of a coliseum, but upon coming round to the front on the east its aspect changes and one is at a loss for a description of its style of architecture. On the right is a doorway leading through the build ing into a semicircular gallery, elevated but slightly from the ground, in which are hung some very latere paintings of views in the French capital. Here the Parisian may feast his eyes upon the familiar scenes of his beloved “Paree,” and point out to his friends the leading places of interest in the great city. Having passed along the entire length of the gallery, leading up to which are stairways from the central court, which is a sort of garedn spot, one enters a detached portion of the building in which are a number of inter esting exhibits of a mechanical and scientific nature. Among other things is a peculiar system of photography by the aid of which criminals are detected, in the demonstration given wax figures being used to represent the culprit. The foregoing comprise but a portion of the French exhibits, the departments of agriculture, horticulture, electricity and mining each having an elaborate display. It has developed that France hasi ndulged in some reflections on our Columbian exposition, but in the out set she came promptly forward and contributed largely to its success and she has reason to be proud of the good showing she has made. In front of the North Dakota build ing is an old cart which -belonged to the Hudson Bay company. A card on it calls attention to the fact that it was the only means of travel employed north and west of St. Paul previous to 1871. Geohoe— -“Have I come too early, (feiuT’ Laura—‘ > No. George, We have just had U WWttj’B outfit to otftoe rljfbt alter TERMS: Cl.oo Per Annum in Advance BLOOD WILL TELL. A Strange Bnt Veracious Tale (rone the Midway Plaisance. Midnight on the Plaisance. The long street lay wrapped in silence and shadow, deep and impenetrable. Light breezes from the great, heaving lake beyond stirred with a gentle touch the thatched roofs in the Dahomey village. Away to the right lay the White City, glistening in the pale rays of the elec tric light. Above, the quiet stars kept silent watch over the slumbers of the nations. With slow and measured step the weary Columbian guard paced his lonely beat before the huts of the Africans, counting the weary hours till dawn would bring relief and rest. Anon, he glanced about him at the vil lage, the huts, strange and incongru ous to western eyes, from which came no sound save the heavy and regular breathing of the sleeping Dahomeyans. All was silent. No night lamps glim mered in the tiny houses where Mor pheus held sway. But hark! What sound was that which broke upon his listening ear, faint and far off? And see, in yonder distant hut, half concealed by the rough bark door, a tiny flickering light! With sudden start the wary guard made silent progress to the spot. Half-afraid, he cautiously ventured on, his mind racked with doubts and fears for his own safety. What could it mean, this strange light at such an unholy hour? And now he heard low voices in earn est converse and he paused in trepida tion. A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind in one brief moment. A plot, perchance, for murder and plunder in its wake, was hatch ing in the minds and hearts of the treacherous Africans in yonder hut. lie knew not what dark schemes of ra pine might not be going forward, and he listened with bated breath while he stepped into the friendly shadow of a hut. A single crackling twig might betray him to certain death, and he thought of his wife and children with aching heart. Then, with strained ea.is, the night wind brought again that sound half-subdued which first arrest ed his attention. A light rattle as if arrows or deadlier weapons were being prepared for carnage. Then the sense of duty came floating back to him, bringing renewed courage to his sink ing heart. He was on guard and on him it devolved to surprise the conspir ators, if such they were, ere it was too late. Cautiously he moved forward toward the hut whence the low voices and that strange, mysterious rattle, awful in its portent, still came at intervals. And now he is just without the half-opened door, kneeling on the ground and eagerly straining every nerve to catch a word from within. Suddenly the sound came once again upon the still night air and a low, hoarse voice whis pered with half-suppressed excite ment; “Seven done, come a natural, dat time, nigger. Fade you again for five. Gimme dem bones and come, little Joe, for a point.” With starting eyes the guard still listened while the answering voice came back: “Can’t do it, son. Two bits you don’t come. Five on the high side. Hal here’s my seven.” With a look of pained surprise the disappointed guard silently retraced his steps from the crap game, only stop ping to mutter: “Blood will tell.”—Chi cago News. A BRITON’S VIEW, An Enthusiastic Euloßluin on Onr Great , Fair. What I saw when I gained the norths ern and eastern balconies of the Ad ministration building surpassed and surprised my highest expectations. After all that pen and pencil had done to prepare me for the sight, I felt that not one-half had been told me. The great White City which rose before me, silent and awful, seemed to belong to an order of things above our common world. It was a poem entablatured in fairy palaces, only to be done into human speech by the voice of some master singer. It was a dream of beauty which blended the memory of classic greatness with the sense of Al pine snows. It was an apocalypse of the architectural imagination. Thd wildness of the day lent its own apocalyptic setting to the scene. A swaying, drifting curtain of cloud shut in the horizon, blurring lake and sky on the one side in an indistinguishable haze, and on the other shrouding the city in a gloom of smoke and rain. Ever and again the towers of the fair were draped with wreaths of trailing cloud, while the beating rain and chill ing wind added to the elemental effect. The cluster of buildings hung together there a sort of city in the clouds, yet severe and unmistakable in outline. It was a vision of the ideal, cnhaloedl with mystery. The dreams of Colum bus, the aspirations of the pilgrim fathers, the boundless possibilities of the American continent itself, all seem to have been crystallized in this mute world of hall and peristyle, of column and capital. It stood there one colossal temple of temples, awaiting in silence the presence of the supernal glory.— Review of Reviews. The immense logs which are laid in five tiers, forming part of the first story of the Washington state building, ' were donated by yarious lumber firms in that state whose names ure painted on them, but one must stand on his head to bo able to read the inscriptions, as, with two exceptions, they ttVQ up sitto down. uoh feme) NO. 36.