The Lafayette gazette. [volume], April 01, 1893, Image 1

About The Lafayette gazette. [volume] (Lafayette, La.) 1893-1921

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T.IIE LAFAYT GAE. TTE
LFY E L, SATURDAY, APRIL 1, 1893.
-Y ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ j- __ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _
1ia 1 e o ouy nornet know
"ath' waywaordoureetaw.
ý Tee surte ns hound,
aoe4 shallop- t ran aground,
" w lahramed of his disgrace,
Sds. at Iooe me in the face,
t~, uwetae, every man," salea e,
. . eiee. Mod only scorn. for me;
, mint grtorth wath alien men
A~,a : rpple with the world again.
I eetsdotatey and face the truth
Aug thip eople of my youth.
~ we Mn a e strange and scenes are new
_re5t mae foe wore for me to do.
Anadw weaZ har'e fedcsaied the past.
r llo dicabt k to you at last."
And es i watched while my boy, Will,
SWent down behind the hill.
entsmbsed the hill at early morn
BaOesth whoso shadow he.was born.
we es noga its highest place.
TheAourise shining on his face;
as seom there, but too far away
eor me to see his tears that day;
My thoughts. my tears, I cannot tell
ite tWavedbakck his sad farewelL
etha passed on. and my boy, Will,
Went down behind the hill
Weat do;h hil; henceforth for me
Onelpite my mpemory
Crowds s other from its place
A bopwnth sunrise-on his face;
Wl aunrrse-lighted face I see
The sunset of all joy to me,
Por when he turned him from my sight
The morning mixed itself with night
And darinese came, whn my boy, Will
Weant down behInd the hill
The world is wide, and he hass gone
Into its vastness, on and on.
I hnow not what besets his path.
What hours of gloom, what days of wrath.
What terrors menace him afar,
What nights of storm without a star,
What mountains loan above his way
Whataoceas toss him night and day,
What fever blasts from desert sands.
What death-cold winds from frozen lands.
Wiet shafts of sleet or sun may blight
fyhomeless wanderer in his flight;
I only know the world is wifde
And he can roam by land and tide.
'T~s ide, ah mel in every part,
~nt narrower than his mother's heart
A joyless heart since my boy. Will,
Went down behind the hillt
1 know he bravely fights with tate,
But, seo. the hour is growing late;
K watch the hill by day and night,
It dimly looms before my sight,
And fast the twilight shadows fall;
The night is glooming over all:
But in my boy a faith is given
As saints of old had faith in heaven:
I know,that be will come again,
His praise on all the lips of men;
He wilt came back to me at last
With deeds that shall redeem the past.
Nor desert pici, normauncatan steel.,
wtcr-atchrt nor thunder on the deep,
Nor tempest in the east or west,
Shall hold him from his mother's breast.
And though the world grows blind and dumb,
I feel, I know, that he will come;
And I am waiting for him stillt
And watch the summit of the hill;
Sometimes I-think I see him stand
Ane wave a welcome with his hand,
But 'tis a lodud upon the rim
Of sanset-and my eyes are dim
'Tis but a mist nade by the tears
That thicken with the growing years.
I watch while there is light to see
And dream that he will come to me;
And though 'tis dark within. without,
I will not shame him by a doubl,,
The all-enfolding night draws near,
But he will come-I will not fear
But. ah, 'tis long since my boy. Will,
Went down behind the hill.
-S. W. Poss, in Yankee Blade,
ONE KIND OF CRANK.
How He Makes Lots of Trouble
for Hotel Men.
A New Yorrk Clerk Tells of a Curlous
sort of vanity some People Are
Atieted Witht-Catchin an
Unwary Countryman.
"Is Mr. Henry Wilson in?"
The man who put this question to the
cleik at the Fifth Avenue hotel tlhe
other night was. atltred in evening
dress and had thrown open his over
coat so as to reveal his expansive shirt
bosom with its twinkling diamond
tdds. - e afflected the elegant in his
attitude, also, and swung his silver
lTandled came with an air of impor
tance. His physique, voice and face
were designed to aid him in his attempt
to create an impression. lie was tall
and broad-shouldered, had big features
and an aggreasive black mustache,
and his voice was deep and sonorous.
lie looced like a man who mnight try to
bulldoze another of lesser frame.
The cleric looked up at him with a
bland smile, but made no pretense of
looking at the key rack, as is his cus
tom when he wants to learn whether a
guest is in his room or not. Neither 1
dial he look at the register nor at his a
list of the day's guests. lie simply I
said:
"Mr. Henry Wilson, did you say?
There is no such person stopping I
heore."
The inquirer looked a little taken
aback, and a frown passed quickly 7
over his face. When lie spoke, the I
tone of his voice suggested that he felt
the clerk haid estimated him properly,
but he wb.s impelled to make an at
tempt to -bhauge the clerk's theory.
"Is that so?" he asked in surprise 1
thatw7tw evidently assumed; "when did
he ledve?" -
"I don't - remember his having been
here," said the clerk, in a tone full of i
meaning.
"Oh, pshaw; you must be mistaken,"
sal the man, fretfully. "Why, I am
certain he was here a week ago. I
have a telegram from him asking me i
to meet him on last Wednesday. Un
tortemately, I was out of town when
the telegram arrived, and it was not
for'warded. Wilson is the big million- I
aiet contractor from Chicago, you -
know.,"
The last' sentence was spoken so I
Lo aly .that the men standing around,
andeven those on the settees, heardait c
and looked at the speaker.
"It diad not stop here," said the s
clerk. 1* a monotonous, oh-you-maike- i
me-tired tone. I
"You are quite sure?" said the man, j
switching from the cdn-adlent to the 'f
coneilatory. e
"Positive," said the clerk, turning d
away. .
Tn mpa ePanoealed the fact that he C
ws. diso~orted very cleverly. lie
pic a tobthpick out of the box on
the counter, and out it between his p
lips, with s appearance of one lost in n
thtbugh Then he turned around and
learned with his back against the
clerk'sdeair. Ehattitude ras studied- f:
ly elegat. He sseemed unmindful of a
ilea si ge and to be looking ti
gvp'aI e h oV tn me 4$tle moste C
across the lobby. The clerk looked at
him occasionally in mingled anger and
amusement: Presently the man walked
out into thu center of the lobby, glanced
slowly around and walked deliberately
out of tife hotel through the writing
room and the ladies' entrance.
"I wish somebody would invest a
sure crank-killing machine," said the1
clerk, after the man had disappeared.
"That fellow was the • sixth to-night"
"What do you mean?" asked the re
porter.
"I mean," he replied, "that that fel
low knew when he came here that no
such man as he inquired for had ever
stopped here. In fact, the name he
mentioned was all there was of his pre
tended friend. When he came here
and asked for the myth of his owvn
creation, he knew that le was simply
bothering me. What was his object?
Oh, simply to create an impression on
the people standing around. Did you
notice how his voice rose when he
talked of the myth as 'the big million
sire?' Don't you know there are men
who are constantly craving the noto
riety that is associated with riches?
Haven't you heard men -in restaurants,
elevated trains, horse cars, barrooms
and elsewhere talk about 'big
deals,' bonds, vast sums of money,
their social position, intimacy with
great men, and all that sort of
thing? Of course you have, and have
known all the time that they were
merely faking. Well, that sort of man
comes iu here nearly every day and an
noys the life out of us. This fellow
you saw has been here so many times I
am dead on to him. He wants to show
off his clothes and imitation diamonds,
and make people think be is a big gun.
Most of them are not so well dressed as
he is. Some are countrymen who have
heard a good deal about our lobby and
the lnen who frequent it, and ask ques
tions about persons who don't exist as
an excuse for coming here. They seem
to think that being seen in conversa
tion with the cleric gives them a sort
of right to stay here and 'satisfy their
curiosity. They have an idea the de
tectives will come around and order
them out unless they do something of
the kind. I frightened one of these
fellows nearly out of his with one night
lie was a perfect ja. a .. .,
tie askteir it 'Ilomward Johnson' was in.
" 'Yes,' I said, 'there he is,' and I
pointed out our detective, who wan
standing close by. 'Mr. Johnson,' I
said, 'here's a man wants to talk to
you.' I winked to the detective and he
tumbled. 'What did you wish of me,
sir?' he said, crowding him up into this
corner. The fellow turned blue with
fright. 'I g-g-guess I m-m-ade a m-m
mistake,' he stuttered. 'You asked for
Howard Johnson,' I said, severely.
'And that's my name,' said the detec
tire, taking the hint. 'Y-y-yes,' said
the fellow, 'b-b-but I g-g-guCss y-you
air a d-d-different H-II-IIoward.' Ile
kept edging off as far as he could, and
finally bolted.
"Some of the cranks got up great
cock-and-bull stories. One fellow
called the other night to know if a
Mr. *harris had left a pair of opera
glasses for him. There had been no
such guest here. During the last cam
paign, when the papers- were full of
stories about the big men here, we had
as many as thirty or forty cranks pes
tering us every day. A favorite trick
with some of them was to wait until
the papers announced the departure of
a big gun, and then come here and
pester us with questions about when
he would return. They always pre
tended surprise when told he had gone
without leaving messages for them,
and would try to talk confidentially
with us, in tones loud enough to be
heard fifty feet away, about their inti
mate relations with the big: men. We
were overrun with them, and found it
difficult to attend to our business, for
they stuck like leeches. It was a great
relief to see them drop off after the
campaign, but we are still annoyed by
enough to make us sore at tines."-N
Y. Sun.
All About Girls.
G(irls don't have any aim in life but
just to get married. Pooh! I wouldn't
get married for fifty dollars! I'm going
to be an author when I grow up. I'm
gathering the material for my book
now. It's going to be all about how
dudes and such like propose, and the
lies they tell, and what the girl says. I
hide behind the curtains or under the
sofa every time I see one of sister's
fellers begin to look sneaking. I can
tell 'cm every time. I'm experienced.
Well, the other night I laid for Mr.
Puttihead. Ile was pretty badly rat.'
tied, and when lie got about to the
point he muttered and stuttered and
gobbled so that I couldn't make head
nor tail of what he said. I forgot my
self, and stuck my head out from under
the sofa.
"Louder, please!" says I. "I didn't
catch that last remark."
Well, sir, Puttihead fainted and sis
ter screamed bloody murder, and pa
rushed in and hauled me out into the
woodshed, and, oh, if he didn't raise
my coat in great shape!
That is all I know about girls at
present -National Tribune.
Teeth of the Nsegro.
The old-time colored man was noted 1
for the brilliant whiteness of his teeth
-a quality which is not inherited by
his descendants of the present day. 1
Nowadays the teeth of the negroes do 1
not seem to be nearly as good as those
of his white brother. The reason is to
be found in the change of food. The
slaves had plenty to eat. but the food
given them was of the simplest kind. 1
Pork, meal, potatoes, and such veg- 1
Setables as they raised themselves,
formed their bill of fsre. Now they I
eat all sorts of indigestible stuff, out- 1
doing the white people in this direc- i
tion, showing a particular fondness for
candies and sweetmeats. The conse
quence is that in a single generation
the ivory teeth of the slave have given
place to the decayed fangs of the freed
mnan.-St. ILouis Globe-Democrat
-Inkwell-"Tf your story was a fiat
failure, why is it sellin~ like hot
cakes?" Blotter-"! had it bound with
the title orn te last pae."-Inter '
Oes. * -
A VISIT TO WHITTIER.
done tiwse elve SldeiLLIghts thrown on the
Chatkter of the Poet.
The memory of a visit to Amesbury,
made once in September, vividly re
mains with me. It was early in the
month, when the lingering heat of
summer seems sometimes to gather
fresh intensity from the fact that we
are so soon to hear the winds of au
tumn.
Amesbury had greatly altered of late
years; "large enough to be a city," our
friend declared; "but I am not fat
r enough to be an alderman." To us it
was still a small village, though some
what dustier and less attractive than
when we first knew it.
As we approached the house we saw
him from a distance characteristically
gazing down the road for us, from his
front yard, and then at the first glimpse
suddenly disappearing, to come forth
again to meet us, quite fresh and quiet,
from his front door. It had been a
very hot, dry summer, and everything
about that place, as about every other,
was parched and covered with dust.
There had been no rain for weeks and
the village street was then quite inno
cent of watering carts. The fruit hung
heavily from the nearly leafless trees,
and the soft thud of the pears and ap
ples as they fell to the ground could be
heard on every side in the quiet house
yards. The sun struggled feebly
through the mists during the noontide
hours, when a still heat pervaded rath
er than struck the earth; and then in
the early afternoon and late into the
next morning a stirless cloud seemed to
cover the face of the world; These
mists were muclhnecreased by the burn
ing of peat and brush, and, alas! of the
very `woods themselves, in every direc
tion. ' Altogether, as Whittier said,
quaintly, "it was very encouraging
weather for the Millerites."
His niece, who bears the name
of his beloved sister, was then
the mistress of his home, and
we were soon made heartily wel
come inside the house, where every
thing was plain and neat, as became a
Friend's household; but as the village
had grown to be a stirring placee and
the house stood close upon the dusty
road, such charming neatpl ..kttk,
sometimes have been a difficult achieve
ment. The noonday meal was soon
served and soon ended, a-nd then we sat
down behind the hall closed blinds,
looking out upon the garaen, the faded
vines and almost leafless trees. It was
a cozy room, with its Franklin stove,
at this season surmounted by a bou
quet, and a table between the windows,
where was a larger bouquet, which
Whittier himself had gathered that
morning in anticipation of our arrivaL
He had seemed brighter and better than
we had dared to hope, and was in ex
cellent mood for talking. Referring
again to the Millecrites, who had bsen
so reanimated by the mists, he said he
had been deeply impressed lately with
their deplorable doctrines. "Continu
ally disappointed because we don't all
burn upon a sudden, they forget to be
thankful for their preservation from
the dire fate they predict with so much
complacency."
He had just received a proof of his
poem, "Miriam," with the introduction,
and he could not be content until they
had been read aloud to him. After the
reading they were duly commented up
on and revised until he thought lie
could do no more, yet twice before our
departure the proofs were taken out of
the handbag, where they were safely
stowed away, and again more or less
altered.
Whittier's ever growing fame was not
taken by him as a matter of course. "I
can not think very well of my own
things," he used to say; "and what is
mere fame worth when thee is at home
alone, and sick with headaches, unable
either to read or to write?" Neverthe
less he derived very great pleasure and
consolation from the letters and trib
utes which ponred in upon him from
hearts he had touched or lives he haa
quickened. "That I like," he would
say; "that is worth having." But he
must often have known the deeps of
trouble in winter evenings when he
was too ill to touch book or pen, and
when he could do nothing during the
long hours but sit and think over the
fire.
WVe slept in Elizabeth's chamber.
The portrait of their mother, framed in
autumn leaves gathered in the last aut
umn of her life, hung upon the wall.
Here, too, as in our bed room at Dick
ens', the diary of Pepys lay "on the
table. Dickens had read his copy faith
fully and written notes therein. Of
this copy the leaves had not been cut,
but with it lay the "Prayers of the
Age," and volumes of poems which had
all been well read and "Pickwick" up
on the top.-Annie Field, in Hlarper's
Magazine.
ANIMALS IN WET WEATHER.
Their Habits rand Instlants in Regard to
Sheltering Thesnelve.
The reluctance with which most hu
man beings face voluntary exposure to
such (wet) weather will account for our
very limited knowledge of the shifts
and devices by which our wild animals :
endeavor to avoid the worstdiscomforts
which it brings. But those who are
bold enough to go forth in all weathers
know by experience that in all but the
most open countries there are generally
to be found some cosey corners to which 1
the rain does not ptnetrate, or which,
even if not dry, are sheltered from the
direct access of the driving drops.
Animals, birds especially, while
showzg the utmost dislike to endure
the storm, are by no means so clever in
the use of such natural shelters as
might be supposed. Hares, as a rule, 1
leave the open country and seek shel- i
ter in the woods; and stupid as they are
in circumstances new to their experi
ence, as when suddenly chased, or in I
avoiding snares and traps, they show
considerable ingenuity in securing their
comfort They nearly always make a I
form near, but not touching, the trunk
of some large tree. Thus, while securing a
the shelter of the stem and overhanging
limbs, they avoid the water which drains 1
down to the main column and forms, as
any one may see by looking at the foot 1
of a large timber tree in a meadow, a
blay cuan at to base of the tr'uk. I
The writer has sometimes seen lare,
not lying-in their fanm, but sitting up
in such places, just as a laborer shel
ters behind a haystack. WVhere there i
are no woodlands they creep under the
irregular overhanging cornie6 made by
the crumbling away of the in id be
neath the roots in the hedge-banks and
there scratch out a snug and dry re
treat.
Rabbits usually keep under ground
in their burrows, only coming out to
feed, unless their holes are flooded, as
often happens after a lone course of
wet. They then leave the warren alto
gether, and lie out among the turnips,
or even on the open stubbles, huddled
up into the smallest possible space, as
if they had lost all faith in the possi
bility of finding further shelter. Rats
have the strongest possible dislike to
damp, and on the first approach of
settled wet swarm into the stacks and
farm buildings. Those which spend
their lives along the banks of rivers
and brooks--ra semi-aquatic breed of
land rats which resemble the
true water rats in all but
their vegetarian diet-have a sim
ple and clever resource for wet
weather. They leave their holes in the
banks, and go up into. the crowns of
the pollard willows which fringe the
streams and line the hedges; in these
they find warm, dry, and well-drained
winter lodgings, safe even in flood-time;
for their powers of swimming enable
them to shift from tree to tree, and the
swarms of snails and insects which
shelter in the hollow trunks provide
them with food for a "rainy day."
Foxes often lie in these large hollow
pollards during very wet weather; and
the writer has seen an otter slip from
the crown of one of them into the Cher
well during an autumn flood. But
foxes more often prefer to lie still for
hours curled up in the high grass and
brambles in some thick double-fence,
or dry furze-brake. Sometimes, in
heavy rain, they are so reluctant to
leave their dry quarters, that they do
not move until their disturber is close
upon them; and the comical, half-re
luctant, and wholly sulky look of an
old dog-fox, as he stands hesitating be
tween prudence and comfort, should 't.
Speal -t- e*e, rs -mitantetic sports
man.
Horses and cattle never look so mis
erable as when standing exposed to
cold and driving rain. Every field in
which cattle are turned loose shculd
have some rude shelter provided, how
ever rough and hardy the stock. If left
to themselves in a stgae of nature, they
would travel miles to some bank or
thicket,which would at least give cover
against the wind. Shut up between
four hedges, they are denied alike the
aid of human forethought and of their
own instinct. Bewick's vignettes of old
horses or unhappy donkeys, huddled
together in driving showers on some
bleak common, express a vast amount
of animal misery in an inch of woodcut.
It seems strange that no animal, unless
it be the squirrel, seems to build itself
a shelter with the express object of
keeping off the rain, which they all so
much dislike. Monkeys are miserable
in wet, and could easily build shelters,
if they had the sense to do so. "As the
creatures hop disconsolately along in
the rain," writes Mr. Kipling, in his
"Beast and Man in India," "'or crouch
on branches, with dripping backs set
against the tree-trunk as shelter from
a driving storm, they have the air of
being very sorry for themselves." Elnt
even the ourang-outang, which builds a
small platform in the trees on- which to
sleep at night, never seems to think of
a roof, though the Dyaks say that when
it is very wet it covers itself with the
leaves of the pandanus, a large fern.
Birds, some of which carefully
roof in the nests in which they
rear their young, and even, as
in the ease of the swallow, choose
some existing roof, such as the eaves of
a house or a projecting cliff, to cover
the nest, when built of materials which
wet would destroy, seem incapable of
making a waterproof house for themn
selves. Grouse and all the fowls of the
open moorlands go to the most open
and exposed spots, in rain avoiding the
thick heather and even the " peat
hags," in whose hollows they might
find shelter. Partridges huddle under
the fences, or lie on the driest and
barest places on the fallows, apparent
ly caring less for shelter above than for
dry soil beneath them. Rooks often
flock into thick fir-trees, or in summer
take refuge in the old and close-grow
ing oaks which line the roadsides. But
the small and helpless birds, yellow
hammers, buntings, chaftinches and
linnets seem quite bewildered by the
beating storms. They creep into cart
ruts or behind tufts of grass: often they
take refuge under the big Swede tur
nips round the edges of the fields,
where they are sonumbed and cramped
by cold and wet that they may be
caught by the hand, or are picked up
by stoats and rats, humble and uncon
sidered victims of the "plague of rain 1
and waters"--London Spectator.
A Mlodiash Material.
For the best dresses that women of
moderate means keep for special oca
sions there are various inexpensive
satin fabrics that wear and look much
better than silks of similar low price.i
For the present season the satin surahs
are not heavy enough, and "real satin'"
is too costly, hence the careful shopper
buys the satin duchess or muerveilleux,
because its surface is closely woven in
stead of showing a broad serge-like
twill that cheapens the effect at once.
These come in olive and moss green,
copper red, maroon and golden-brown
shades, as well as in black, at prices
ranging from eighty cents to one dol
lar and twenty-five cents a yard.rt Black I
is first choice just at the moment, and
a skirt of this material now in the
dressmaker's hands is made in the still
highly popular enlarged bell shape with
a plaited ruche, with rows of jetted
gimp above for trimming. This one skirt
has, to be worn with it, a stylish coat
of satin brocade with cape-collar and
sleeves of velvet, an Eton jacket of
satin, like the skirt, opening over a
blouse waist trimmed with the jetted
gimp; and a low-cut sleeveless corselet
bodice of plain black velvet to wear
with giimpes and :ancy waists~ -N, , i
PFosh i
EATING DINNER MECHANICALLY
The Walter hoes Everythltng But Swallow
the Food sed urinuk.
On a recent evening a big man with a
heavy walk entered a well known cafe
on upper Broadway and sank wearily
into a chair at a table. He was about
fifty years old and had the appearance
of a high liver. His face had the pecu
liar purplish-red color which is some
times ascribed to burgundy and some
times to champagne, but is always due
to indulgence of the appetite for good
things. His movements indicated that
he felt sluggish, and it would have cre
ated no surprise in the observer to have
been told that he was liable to apo
plexy. lie seemed preoccupied, and
glanced listlessly about the room.
Presently a waiter came up tohim. He
was about the same age as the man at
the table, but was quick and active.
"Good morning, Mr. Jones," he said,
briskly. "We have some nice turtle
soup and some excellent roast grouse."
"All right, James," said the other,
absent-mindedly.
"Some potatoes chateau and a lettuce
salad?"
"Yes."
The waiter -went away and returned
presently with some illustrated papers,
which the man took from him without
so mach as looking up. The soup was
brought on and ljdled out by the wait
er, who then took the napkin and
spread it carefully over the man's lap.
He brought on a glass of sherry, al
though the man had said nothing about
it, and set it down beside his plate.
The man did not notice it, but began to
eat his soup greedily.
"You are forgetting your sherry, sir,"
said the waiter, respectfully.
Mechanically the diner reached out
and carried the glass to his lips. The
waiter watched him as carefully as a
mother does her child, filled the glass
of water when it was empty, replaced
the napkin when it slipped down, and
in other ways saw to it that the diner
was comfortable. The soup was fol
lowed by the roast, potatoes, and some
celery. The latter had not been or
dered, either. The grouse was carved
by the waiter, who also served the po
tatoes .nit pic.ked aeI. fler ecs...
of celery.
"l)o you want your champagne, sir?"
he as5ced.
"What champagne?" demanded the
diner, querulously.
"You have a half bottle left from last
night, sir."
"Bring it on, then."
T'e waiter returned with a half
empty bottle. A rubber cork tightly
pressed into the mouth had preserved
the sparkle. Through the remainder
of the meal the waiter never relaxed
his watchfulness, although he had to
wait on two other tables. When the
diner had finished his coffee he started
to rise. The waiter, who happened to
be at another table, rushed to his side.
"Wait a moment, Mir. Jones," he said;
"you must take your pepsin."
"Then why the deuce don't you bring
it?"
"Right away, sir."
In a moment he had rushed out of
the room and returned speedily with a
bottle and spoon. He mixed up a dose
in a glass and handed it to the man,
who drank it with a wry face. Then
the waiter brought a finger bowl and a
cigar, of which he cut off the end. IIe
waited until the man had slowly put it
between his lips and then he struck a
match and applied the light. The man
puffed so slowly that the match had
burned down to the waiter's fingers
and scorched them before the cigar was
thoroughly lighted. The waiter now
helped the man on with his overcoat,
adjusted his silk muffer, buttoned up
the coat and handed him his cane.
"Good night, Mr. Jones," said the
waiter, as the man toddled away. An
indistinct mumbling was the only re
ply.
The head waiter explained. "That
man Jones," said he, "has been coming
here for fifteen years and always has
the same waiter. He's a grouty man,
but not bad hearted. He's a chronic
dyspeptic, but you see he won't deny
himself much. You noticed he didn't
tip the waiter? That's because he pays
him once a week and generously, lie
pays his meal checks the same wav.
The waiter knows his habits absolute
ly, and, as you saw, does not require
any orders. lie knows that he wants
certain things always, and understands
his tastes well enough to be able to
suggest a satisfactory menu everytime.
I have an idea the old fellow will re
member his waiter in his will. He
gives him lots of presents, as well he
might, for the waiter does about every
thing except eat and drink for him."
N. Y. Sun.
THE MILLIONAIRES' MALADY.
A Mental hIsease Which is the Outgrowth
of the Posseaslon of Great Wealth.
There is reason to think that great
wealth begets a mental disease akin to
those forms of paralysis which affect a
m;nute portion of the brain. It is not
to be denied that the very rich, as a
.lass, show as much sense as other peo
ple. Those who have made their own
fortunes may well have narrowed their
ninds in the process. They probably
fell into a groove, and we must not look
to them for sympathy with new
thoughts or projects. But the majority
-in Europe, at least-inherited wealth 1
and they passed through the same
training commonly, imbibed the same
ideas as the rest of us.- We knew some
3f them at school or at the university,
where they were much like other youths
--equally interested in the "questions"
which took their fancy. They may even
have promised in all sincerity to aid in
Iolving a problem of some kind when
they came into their own, and looked I
forward to the work with pleasure. If
the promise be forgotten when that
Stime arrives, no reasonable person will
-ondemn them. To find one'sself in the
iaternal seat, surveying lands,all one's t
>wn, as far as eye can see, orreckoning c
ap the money-bags, is not less exciting,
nrobably, when that day has been an- U
tlcipated from childhood. But in a
Ihort time the situation becomes famil- 5
.ar, and then that reasonable person, if i
~nexperienced, looks for fulfilment of t
the promise. lBut rarely indeed is he
Tratifled. The mental disease has '
tound 8 Incrtrat. WIe cjh ftle'nd play I
still take interest in the question. what.
ever it be. But somehow his mind can
no longer grasp the obvious fact that
he himself might settle it, once for all,
by applying no great proportion of the
money which lies idle at his bank.
It is clear, also, that this malady
grows more common, and intensifies.
When the rich were by no means so
many or so wealthy -as now, they
founded all sorts of charitable instita
tions-schools, colleges, chantries, hos
pitals. At present they subscribe just
like anybody else, and their contribu
tion often enough is not more liberal
than that of men whose capital is no
greater than their income. In the
L building of churches alone do a few of
them make show of rivaling their fore
fathers' munificence. But those sub
scriptions acknowledge the obligation.
A millionaire who flatly refused to do
anything for his fellow-creatures could
not be charged with inconsistency at
least But he who gives a hundred
guineas or so, when piling up hundreds
of thousands for probate, admits in ef
feet that be ought to do what he can.
But if he chose, what could he not do?
Our hospitals, for instance, make des
1 pairing appeals year by year. Their
emissaries beg in the streets. They
work through the directory, and write
to each householder. Their boxes stand
in every public place. Of late they
have addressed workingmen. But all
the while there are hundreds of capital
ists-not less kind-hearted nor less in
telligent than other people-who could
set the largest of them on its legs for
good and never feel the sacrifice, thou
sands who could do the like without re
ducing an item of expenditure. The
action would be pleasant, one might
think, and certainly it -ould honor.
Why do none of them perform it? Be
cause, we apprehend, their perception
is dulled by the strange malady which
attends great wealth.
The diagnosis becomes-nmore reason
able yet if we look beyond the calls of
philanthropy to personal interests Du
ties which are shared by all, such as
that of relieving distress, may be over
looked by busy men-and all million
aires are busy somehow. But it may be
said that each of them cherishes some
S `... v--art or archaeology, scl
private ,...' horticult
ence in one or other o, horti
ure, or sport at least. But very r16
are they who use their opportunity
even here. Many work hard-but only
in the same groove with men who labor
at the identical task for their livelir
hood. Take the easiest and commonest
of such tastes. The millionaire who
devoted a hundred thousand pounds t..
horse-breeding, consulting men of sci
ence as well as experts, might do eni
less good, with continual delight for
himself, and found at least a new strain
of thoroughbreds. But millionaires do
not show enthusiasm for sport com
monly. Some, as is known to the se
lect, apply themselves to science, and
spend money which would represent &
fabulous sum to the bulk of savants
but to them must be a trifle, in exper-*
meats and researches. We have heard,
indeed, of a bold and costly undertak
ing which an eminent personage, still
living, projected in his youth. He
caused a magnet to be built of such
size and power as had not yet been im
agined. It was his intention to charge
this gigantic object without witnesses,
so as to enjoy the unparalleled result
in selfish solitude. Happily, a great
authority called aS the moment, and
received an invitation to assist.
When he saw the preparations, his
face paled. Neither he nor any
one else could foretell what would
happen if that twenty-foot magnet
were set to work; but it was probable,
at least, that the house would fall.
The thing still remains uncharged--or
did a few years ago. But it is not re
corded that this gentleman has devised
any such scheme since he came in to his
patrimony.
Millionaires of culture must be inter
ested in antiquarian researches which
throw light upon the past They com
monly subscribe, indeed, when an en
terprise of the side is launched. Biut
how much does English ari.ieology
owe to them? We believe that twenty
pounds was the largest contribution
Thomas Wright could persuade any
rich patron to advance towards unnov
ering Uriconium. Poor men did what
was done mostly, and now that won
derful city is reburied. Silchester is
another instance of our own day. lt,
after all, British archieology is a "one
horse" pursuit. The remains of Italy
and Greece appeal to the imagination
in a very different degree; and not to
our English millionaires alone, but to
those of the civilized world. Which of
them at any time has responded to that
appeal beyond here or there offering a
little check, such as poor authors and
professors rival?-London Saturday Re
view.
Black One Year and White the ~ext.
A woman appeared on the streets of
Canton, Mich.. recently who attracted
much attention. She has a perfectly
white face and hands and short kinky
hair, with the features of a negro The
woman said that she was born black
and remained so until she was fifteen
years old, when she suddenly turned
white, remaining so foi- one year, when
she turned black again. Since that
time she is alternately white and blick,
not only in spots, but changes color en
tirely. She - is fairly intelligent and
says she has never had a spell of sick
ness and has never taken a dose of
medicine. She lives near Sallis station,
on the Canton and Aberdeen road. She
says she cannot stand the sun at all,
and wears a double veil and heavy
glovea She says if the sun shines on
her skin for one moment it causes it to
blister at once. She has been examined
by physiculams, who are unable to a
count for the change in her color. -
N. O. Times-Democrat
-And She Failed. -"WVhat's the mat
ter, dear" astked Mr. Jnstwed as he
came into the house and forund his wife
crying as if her heart would break. "I
am so discouraged," she sobbed. "What
has bothered my little wife?" "I wored
all the after. on making eastmr pies,
because I knoew you wIere so fond of
them, and--nd-" Here she . n
weeping hysterically again. "' 1
what, dawling?" "And they turned ot
to be sponges SWk#*"**B t !lrge
IN THE ELECTRICAL. WORt'I
_ atked tsri. iii ýc fps
lpo adopt shades for their electrii :
tIlaiming that the gleams of light
:rom make acenrate o
possible. -
-The Compagnie Translantique has
again brought forward the question of
lighting the Atlantic rouite 'om Ie
land to Newfoundland. It is pWopoeed
to have ten powerful aflotinag Mts two
hundred zs apart, and conn~t them
by elect c bles.
-A new system of train starting has
been inaugurated in the Dearborn sta
tion in Chicago. A large cloc in the
train dispatcher's office-iruns by eo
tricity. Connecting wires e'tend to
large gongs in the different waiting
rooms and in the train:. shg~ Two
minutes before the train starts the dif
ferent gongs ring in all paits of the
building. -,.
-A patent for a process of uniting
broken pieces of'are light edrbons has
recently been granted. By tha~process
the fragments of carbon aee combined
to any desired lengths by means of a
paste composed of pulverized carbon
.nd coal tar, mixed in about 1a
parts and applied hot, after whic
carbons are baked until t&h
harden s
-It is said thr.t the Chilian go .
ment is considering the t f
straits of Magellan. As itse greatest
coal deposits are on the northern stfOres
of the straits, this can be cheaply ef
fected. Such a system would, of. course,
be hailed with delight by the mariners
who would use that passage betW vn
the two great oceans.
-"The state of Massachusetts, as
viewed from a balloon," says the' Eleo
trical Review, "will soon present' ihe
appearance of a huge gridiron, it all
the trolley schemes now in confempla
tion are carried out. Hamlets wiB -be
connected by rapid transit withtil
lages, villages with towns and .owns
with cities, until a business mdn living
in the interior of the state can take his
family to the seaside for an airing via
the trolley cars."
-Austria announces an electric loo-.
motive which is to travel 125 miles 'un
nký.. ""te 'ndependence Beige fol qws
I hour. r ,.. " " . ... . . , th i;
with the statement tnat the soxr -'-.-s
gian Co. and the North Franxce Co" we
constructing a line for loeometi a,
operated by electricity, on which.the
journey from Brussels to Paris, aV6ut
192 miles, will be accomplished ' in
eighty minutes, a speed of nearly., 150
miles an hour. It is further stated that
the trains will be running it abot two
months.
-The new system of electric strpet
lighting which is to be introduced'on
Fifth avenue, New York, will er00oy
two lamps instead of one ere lsamon
each post. In this way more effective
light and better diffusion are expded
so that shadows will not bre-notiodle.
The wires are to be concealed from
view, and connected underground tothe
low voltage mains of the Edisotn im
pany. Each lamp will p aabout- 50
volts, and the pairs will'be connacted
up in series and the system multiple, so
that no wire will carry over 110 slits
electric pressure.
-The Westinghouse Electric & M1n
ufacturing Co. recently exhibited its
new lamp and its World's fair aenerat
ors at the old Westinghouse air brrke
shops in Allegheny, Pa., where the gen
erators are under construction. There
are 12 of the large generators, each
having a maximum capacity of 15,000
16-candle-power lamph, and with thd 12
1,000-horse-power engines reqnlred to
drive them will form the largest single
exhibit of machinery ever shown at an
exposition. The weight of each dyga
mo will be about 150,000 pounds, and
the armature, the largest single piece
of each machine, is about 90 inches (714
feet) in diameter, and weighs 42,000
pounds.
OWLS HAVE THEIR USES.
Mice. Insects, Gophers and the Swarming
Sparrow Food for the Wise Bird.
The little screech-owl, well known in
most parts of the country, is indefatig
able in its work of destroying mice and
insects It may often be seen at dusk
hovering about barns and outhoases,
watching for mice, or skimming over
the fields or along hedgerows in search
of grasshoppers, crickets and beeitlkh
Many birds of this speoies have taken
up a residence in the cities having
learned to feed upon that most des
structive nuisance, the English aparrow.
In winter rural residents often notice
the tracks of mice which form net
works in the snow. crossing and tecrose
ing, passing in and out of walls and
stacks-tending to show how active
these small rodents are when most of
the world sleeps. Oeeasionlmty seek a
track stops abruptly, and, while the ob
server is trying to read more of the his
tory written in the snow, his eyes e~ieh
the faint impreaion of a pai.of wing
tips near where the trail ends, and in
stantly he is made sawar that i tasgedy
has been enacted. cremsh-uwl also
feed on chipmunaks, shrews, molea~d
occasionally bats. luring warrm spdlls
in witer thc~y h .rge extit tY-s d*
store up in thei himsesan ges of
food as a provision against is 2eat
weather.
Prbbably the m*ot impor t fa~hla
eoonomic point of view among eiit
the barn owL Its food is almost en
tirely made up of insurfioui t eih
In the west it feeds I1rgerb poaE~a
gophers, and the .stomach eontenas
of many individuals examia lrve
resaled little alas tahem a t i
mains of these rodentse To aw ualat
properly the services ot this owl it mya
be remembered that poauced tae g
- e amongthe xmnmsR notrhe ama ist,
structive nmammals which inhaMt thi :
contr7·- lte varhtes weaker eeuias it
feeds extensivelt on the &~'idiskd~ at
The great bhre owl, which ia tha
eat is teo tent in its
try and g*C , 1 i -
ot m'hbtta in anautt.