The Lafayette gazette. [volume], April 01, 1893, Image 5

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

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Tf .TUAIFAYE2 TE GAZETTE.
SV M, k I. LAFAYETTE, LA., SAT DAY, APRIL 1, 1803. NUMBER 4.
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,;IBR NI) -THE HILL'
ý `1 h"- y wa4D he g could not knew
90'. 6n- 1 eoyrl shallows bound,
shallop ran aground.
ashamed of his diserace,
Snot loo me in the face,
'or,-moth-r. every man," sala he,
-' scorn, and only scorn. for me;
- maut go forth w.th alien men
Aat grapple with the world again.
I cannot stay and face the truth
Among the eople of my youth.
Whlee- men are strange and scenes are new
There may be work for me to do.
And, when I have redeemed the past.
I will come back to you at last. "
And so I watched while my boy, Will,
Went down behind the bill
lie climbed the hill at early morn
Beneath whose shadow he was born,
He stood upon its highest place.
The sunrise shining on his face;
He stood there, but too far away
For me to see his tears that day;
y thoughts. my fears, r cannot tell
a l e ' hek his sad farewell.
An 4 I and r.ay boy, Will.
Went down d the hill.
Went dbwan the hill; hencefortbfor me
One elature in my memory
Crowstl every other from its place
A bo with sunrise on hki face;
ls sunrise-lighted face ese
The sunset of all joy to me,
For when he turned him from my sight
The morning mixed itself with night.
And darkness came, when my boy, Will
Went down behind the hilL
'he world is wide, and he has gone
Into its vastness, on and on.
I bow not what btSets his path,
What hours of gloom, what days of wrath.
What terrors menace: him afar.
What nights of utorm without a star,
What mountains loom above his way,
What ooeans toss him night and day,
What fever blasts from desert sands,
What death-colt winds from frozen lands,
What shafts of sleet or sun may blight
fy homeless wanderer in his flight;
I only know the world is wide
Apd he oaaroam by land and tide.
' wide, ah mel in every part,
But narrower than his mother's heart
A joyless heart since my boy. Will.
Went down behind the hilL
1 know he bravely flhybt with fate,
But, at. the hour is growing late;
I watch the hill by da and night,
It dimly looms before tmy 'ight.
And last the twilight shadows fall;
The night is gloorrsng over all;
But tn my boy a faith is given
As saints of old had faith in heaven:
I know that be will come seain,
His praise on all the lips of "eon;
He will come back to me at last
With deeds that shall redeem the past,
Nor desert plain, nor mountatn steep,
Nor storm, nor thunder on the deep.
Nor tempest in the east or west,
Shall hold him from bis mother's bresat.
And though the world grows bltn·l and dumb,
I feel, I know, that he will come;
And-I am waiting for him still.
And watch the summit of the hil!:
Somletimes I think 1 see him stand
And wave a welcome with his hand.
Bat 'tis a cloud uptn the rim
Of sunset-and my eyes are dim -
'Tis but a mist made by the tears
That thicken with the growing years.
I watch while thereis light to see
And dream that ho will come to me;
And though'tis dark within, without,
I will f-it shame him by a doub.;
The all-enfolding night dra.ws no :r,
But he will come-I will not fear
But. sh. 'tis long since my boy. Will,
Went down behind the hill.
-S. W. toss. In Yankee Blade.
ONE KLND OF CRANK.
How He Makes Lots of Trouble
for Hotel Mon.
A New Yorlk Clerk Tells of a Curious
Sort of V'anity Some People Are
Afmticted*'Wita-Catching an
Unwary Countryman.
"Is Mr. Henry Wilson in?"
The man who put this question to the
clerk at the Fifth Avenue hotel the
other night was attired in evening
dress and had- thrown open his over
coat so as to reveal his expansive shirt
bosom with its twinkling diamond
studs. He affected the elegant in his
attitnde, also, and strung his bilver
•andled cane with an air of impor
tance. His physique, voice and face
were doAlgned to aid him in hi . attempt
to create an impression. lie was tall
and broad-shouldered, had big features
and'.an aggressive black mustache,
andis voice was deep and sonorous.
lie looied like a man who might try to
bulldoze another of lesser frame.
The clerk looked up at himn with a
bland smile, tbut 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
did he look at the register nor at h;s
list of the day's guests. lie simply
said:
"Mr. Henry Wilson, did you say?
There is no such person stopping
hle,"
The inquirer looked a little takenl
aback, and a trown passed quickly
over his face. When he spoke, t lhe
tone of hit voice suggested that he felt
the clerk had estimated him properly,
but he was impelled to make an at
tempt to change the clerk's theory.
"Is that so?" he asked in r.rrprise
that was evidently assumed; "when did
he leave?"
"Idon't remember his having been
here," said the clerk, in a tone full of
meaning.
"'Oh, pshaw; you must be mistaken,"
- sald the man, fretfully. 'VWhy, I am
ertatin he was here a week ago. I
hasve a telegram from him aslking me
to-meet him on last Wednesday. tUn
fortunately, I was oat of town when
the telegram arrived, and it was not
forwarded. Wilson is the big million
aIrs contractor from Chicago, you
know."
The last sentence was spoken so
tondly that the men standing around,
and even those on the settees, heard it
and looked at the speaker.
"He did not stop lere," said the
lerk, in a monotonous, oh-you-make- I
mo-tied tone.
"You are quite sure?" said the man,
sfwitching from the confident to the
concilatory.
"Positive," said the clerk, turning
away.
The man oonceaded the fact that he
as disconcerted very cleverly. lie
pilcked a toothpick out of the box on
thbe etr, and put it between his
tips a appearance of one lost in
thought Then he turned around nndl I
leat'ed with his back against the
clerk's desk. His at4Made was studioed
tly elegant, e 4n d unmindful of
his srl'dia~l~ ge LanW to be looking
ovre tbe hbeads the men on the settee
across the lobby. The clerk looked at
him oceasionally in mingled anger and
anjaement. Presently the man walked
out into the center of the lobby, glanced
clowly around and walked deliberately
out of the hotel through the writing
room and the ladiesilantrance.
"I wish somebody would invent a
sure crank-killing machine," said the
cler]after the man had disappeared.
"That fellow was the sixth to-night.."
"Whatdo 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 own
creation, he knew that he 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?
lIaven'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- Int y with
great men, and all haW sort of
thing? Of course you have, and have
known all the time that they -were
merely faking. Well, that sort of man
comes in 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. lie wants to show
off his clothes and imitation diamonds,
and m aloe people think he is a big gun.
Most of them are not so well dressed as
he is. Some are countrymen who hare
heard a good deal about our lobby and
the men who frequent it, and ask ques
tions about persons who don'ttexist as
an excuse for coming here. They seem
to think that being seen in conversa
tion with the clerk 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 someth.ing of
the kind. I frightened one of these
fellows nearly out of his wits one night.
lte was a perfect jay, and stuttered.
Ile asked if '*loward .Johnson' was in.
"'Yes,' I said, 'there he is,' and I
pointed out our detective, who was
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 bluc with
fright. 'I g-g-gness I m-m-ade a m-m
mistake,' he stuttercdl. 'You asked for
Howard Johnson,' I .i.l, io;'rcry.
'And that's my name.' said the detec
tive, taking the hint. 'Y-y-ves.' said
the fellow. 'b-b-hut I g-F-guess y-you
air a d-d-differcnt II-I-loward.' lie
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. l)uring 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 wias to vwait until
the papers announced the departure of
a big gun, and then come here and
pester us with questions about whoa
he would return. Tiey alwafs pre
tended surprise when told he had gone
without leaving messages for them,
and would try to talk confidentially
with uis, in tones loud enough to be
Ihearl fifty feet away, about their inti
mate relations with the big men. We
wvre 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 of, after the
campaign. but we are :.till annoyed by
enough to make us sore at times."-N
Y. Sun.
All Aintt 4;lrll.
(;i'rls don't have any ain in lift- but
just to get married,. Pooh! I wouldn't
get married for fifty dollars! I'm going
to hc an author u hen I grow up. I'm
gathering the material for my book
now. Its agoing 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 'em every time. I'm experienced.
1Ve'l, the other night I laid for Mr.
Puttiheadi. Ile was pretty badly rat
tied, and when lie got about to the
point he muttered and st'uttered 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.
"lfouder, please!" says I. "I didn't
catch that la.st remark."
Well, sit-, Puttihead fainted and sis
ter screamed bloody murder, and Da
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 Negro.
The old-time colored man was noted
for the brilliant whiteness of his teeth
-a qjuality which is not inherited by
his descendants of the present day.
Nowadays the teeth of the negroes do
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.
Pork. meal, potatoes, and such veg
etables as they raised themselves,
formed their bill of fare. Now they
eat all sorts of indigestible stuff, out
doing the white people in this direc
tion, showing a particular fondness for
candies and sweetmeats. The couse
quence is that in a single generation
the ivory teeth of the slave have given
place to the decayed fangs of the freed
msan.-St. Louis Globe-Demnocrat
-Inkwecll-"Tf your story was a fiat
failure. why is it selliny like hot
cakes?" Blotter--"l had it bound with
the title on the last page."-Inter
Oceam. *
A VISIT TO WHITTIER.
Seame Eeetive i4lde-Lighlts Thrown on the
Character 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
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 r us, from his
fropt yard, aid p a thf ir rt ki
sudden dbuiFI'rr, c or
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.aorning a stirless cloud seemed to
cover 'be face of the world. These
mists were much increased 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 place, and
the house stood close upon the dusty
road, such charming neatness must
sometimes have been a ditfficult achieve
mont. The noonday mneal was soon
served and soon ended, and then we sat
down behind the half-closed blinds,
looking out upon thie garden, the faied
vines and almost leafless trees. It was
a cozy room, with its F'ranklin stove,
at this season surmounuted by a bou
quet, and a table between the windows,
where was a larg.tbouquct, which
Whittier hitself had gathered that
horning in anticipation of our arm ra.
lie had seemed brighter and better than
we had dared to hope, and was in ex
cellent mood for talking. Referring
again to the Millerites, who had been
so reanimated by the mists, hlie 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. "
lie had just received a proof of his
poem, "DMiriam.,"'.ith 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 he
could do no more, yet twice before our
departure the proofs were taken out of
the handbag, wherec they were safely
stowed away, and again more or less
al tered.
WVhittier'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 poured in upon him from
hearts he had touched or lives lie had
quickened. "That I like," he would
say; "that is worth having." But lihe
must often have known the deeps of
trouble in winter %venings when he
was too ill to touch book or ptn, and
when he could do nothing during the
long hours but sit and think over the
tire.
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
thi 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 "l'icklwick" up
on the top.-Annie Field, in Hlarper's
Magazine.
ANIMALS IN WET WEATHER.
Their HAbhits and Instincts in Regard to
Shelterlog Tiihmselivea
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 ani ss
endeavor to avoid the worst discomfos
which it brings. Blut 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
the rain does not penetrate, or which,
even if not lry, are sheltered from the
direct access of the driving drops.
Animals, birds especially, while
showing 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,
leave the open country and seek shel
ter in the woods; and stupid as they are
in circumstances new to their experi
ence. as when suddenly chased, or in
avoiding snares and traps, they show
considerable ingenuity in securing their
comfort They nearly always make a
form near, but not touching, the trunk
of some large tree. Thus, while securing
the shelter of the stem and overhanging
=imbs, they avoid the water which drains
down to the main column and forms, as
any one may see by .ooking at the foot
of a large timber ree in a meadow, a
tiny canal at the base of the trunk.
The writer has . times seen hares.
not lying in their .im, but sitting up
in such places, j as a laborer shel
ters behind a ha 'k. WVhere there
are no woodl y creep under the
irregular over cornice made by
the crumblin of the in Id be
neath the roo hedge-banks and
there sc.atch " apug and dry re
treat.
Rabbits _pLaal'T keep under ground
in theirzlc rrows, only coming out to
feed, unlesa.their les are flooded, as
often happehs aft a lonr curse of
wet They t  I the warren alto
gether, and lie out' ong the turnips,
or even on the opes tubbles, huddled
up into the small possible space, as
if they had lost af~faith in the possi
bility of finding i her shelter. Rats
have the stronggat jpossible dislike to
damp, anc on - r t approach of
e Wwr1ýr dl the stacks and
farm buildings. Those which spend
their lives along the banks of rivers
and brooks-a semi-aquatic breed of
Tend rats which resemble the
true water rats in all but
their vegetarian diet-have a sim
ple and clever resource for wet
ather. They leave their holes in the
tanks, 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 N4t weather; and
the writer has seen an otter slip from
the crown of one of them into the Cher
well during an autumn flood. hut
foxes more often prefer to lie still for
hours curled up in the high grass and
brambles in some bhick double-fence,
or dry furze-brakei. 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 huiky look of an
old dog-fox, as he stands hesitating be
tween prudence and comfort, should ap
peal to the most unsy mpathetic sports
mnan.
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 should
have some rude shelter provided, how
ever rough and hardy the stock. If left
to themselves in a state of nature, they
would travel mniles to sonie hani.
thicket,which would at least give o: ...
against the wind. fihut up bctcen
four hedges, they are denied alike the
aid or ul;~u-:'. r,Clo'tought and of their
own instinct. Hewi-~'s vignettes of old
horses or unhappo dou~py.o huddled
together in driving showers on s ..".
bleak common, ekpress a vast amount
of animal misery in an inch of woodcut.
It seems strange that no animal, unless
it be the squirrel, seems to buildl itself
a shelter with the er:press object of
keeping off the rain, which they all so
much dislike. Monkeys are miserable
in wet, and could..e;,sily buil,I shelters,
if they had the sehse to do so. "'As the
creatures hop disconsolately along in
the rain," writes DMr. Kil,ling, in hi:m
"Ileast and MIan in India." "or c'romuchl
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." lint
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 case of the swallow, choose
somne existing roof, such as thll eaves of
a house or a projecting cliff, to cover
the nest, when built of materials whi-ch
wet would destroy, seem incapable of
making a waterproof house for them
sclves. (;rouse 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. Partrilgecs huddle unler
the fences, or lie on the driest and
barest places on the fallows, apparent
ly caring less for shelterabove than for
dry soil beneath them. Rooks often
flock into thick fir-trees, or in sunmer
take refuge in the old and close-growv
ing oaks which line the roadsides. But
the small antI helpless birds, yellow
hammers, huntings, chaflinches and
linnets seem quite bewildered Iy 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 edCges of the fieldis,
where they are so numbed 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
slered victims of the "plague of rain
and waters.' -London Spectator.
A Meodich Matertal.
For the best dresses that women of
moderate means keep for special occa
sions there are various inexpensive
satin fabrics thdat wear and look much
better than silks of simnilar low price.
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 merveillrnx,
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 'reen,
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 centsa yard Uilack
is first choice just at the moment, and
a skirt of this material now in the
dressmaker's han'ts is made in the still
highly popular enlarged bell shape with
a plaited tuche, with rows of jetted
gimp above for trimming. This one skirt
has, to Ie 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 trimnmed with the jetted,
gimp; and a low-cut sleeveless corsemlet
bodlice of plaifi blnek velvet to wear
with guimpes and fancy waists. -N. Y.
'ost.
EATING DINNER MECHANICALLY
The Walter Does Everythlin But Swallow
the Food meld urluk.
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 abon
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 H is movements indicatedethat
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
lanced 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 much as looking up. The soup was
brought on and ladled 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
cat 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 b -en or
dered, either. The grouse was carved
by the waiter, who also served the po
Statoes and picked out the tender pieces
of celery.
"lDo you want your champagne, sir?"
he asked.
"What champagne?" demanded the
4ner, querulously.
"You have a half bottle left from last
night, sir."
"lring it on, then."
T'ae 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. \Vhen the
diner had finished his coffee he started
C - -°. ..'I'he waiter, who happened to
be at another tabli, ",r.,. )?si aa
"WVait a moment, nMr: Jones," he said;
"you must take your pepsin."
"Then why the deuce don't you bring
it?"
"Right away, sir."
In a momlent he had rushed out of
the room and returned speedily with a
bottle andeapoon. lie mixed up a dose
in a glass and handed it to the man,
Swho drank it with a wry face. Then
the waiter brought a finger bowl and a
cigar, of which he cut off the end. lie
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
helpedthe mnan on with his overcoat,
adjusted his silk muffler, buttoned up
the coat and handed him his cane.
"Good night, Mr. Jones," said the
waiter, as the man toddled away. An
indistillct mnumbling was the only re
p!y.
The head waiter explained. "That
man Jones." said he. "lihs been coming
here for fifteen years and always has
the same waiter,. lie's a grouty man,
but not had hearted. lie's a chronic
dyspeptic, but you see he won't deny
himself much. Ydtn 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 way.
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 every time.
I have an idea the old fellow will re
member his waiter in his will. lie
gives him lots of presents. ai well he
might., for the waiter does about every
thing except eat and drink for him."
N. Y. Sun.
THE MILLIONAIRES' MALADY.
A Mental DUsease Which it the Outgrowth
of the Prmsesslon of (reat Wealth.
Thiere is reason to think that great
wealth begets a mental disease akin to
those forms of paralysis which affect a
minute portion of the brain. It is not
to be denied that the very rich. as a
'lass, show as much sense as other peo
Sple. Those who have made their own
fortunes may well have narr-owed their
hinds in the process. They probably
fell into a groove, and we must not look
to themn for sympathy with new
thloughts or projects. But the majority
-in Eunrope, at leaRst-inherited wealth
and they passed through the same
training commonly, imbibed the same
ideas as the rest of us. We knew some
f them at school or at the university,
where they were much like other youths
-equally interested in the "questions"
which took their fancy. They mayeven
have promisedl in all sincerity to aid in
,olviag a problem of some kind when
they came into their own, and looked
forward to the work with pleasure. If
the promise be forgotten when that
time arrives, no reasonable person will
:ondemn th. To find one's self in the
,aternal seat surveying landsall one's
w-n, as far as eye can see, or reckoning
up the money-bags, is not less exciting,
amrobably, when that day has been an
tripated from childhood. But in a
ihort time the situation tcomes famil
at. and then that reasonable person, if
nexperienced, looks for fulfilment of
the promise. lIut rarely indeed is he
rratified. The mental disease ha.s
round a lodrment His rilg friendmay
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 institu
tions-schools, colleges, chantjtes, hos
pitals. At present they subsc be 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
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
fect that he ought to do what he can.
But if he chose, what could he not do?
Our hospitals, for instance, make des
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. iBut 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 would 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 more 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 hbe
said that each of them cherishes some
private fancy-art or archmology, sci
ence in one or other form, horticultl
ure, or sport at least. But very fees
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 livel<'
hood. Take the easiest and comnmonesi
of such tastes. The millionaire whin
devoted a hundred thousand pounds tsJ
horse-breeding, consulting men of sci
ence as well as experts, might do end
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 so
lect, apply themselves to science, and
SBn -py which would represent d
fabulous sum to to~. 'biA : "'6 W
but to them must be a trifle, in exper:'
ments and researches. We have heard,
indeed, of a bold and costly undertak
ing which an eminent personage, still
living, projected in his youth. lie
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. Hlappily, a great
authority called at the mnornent, 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. Ilut it is not re
corded that this gentleman has devised
any such scheme since he camrne in ,o his
patrimony.
Millionaires of culture mnut ea" inter
ested in antiquarian researches whilch
throw light upon the past. They ,nom
mnonly subscribe, indeed, slwhen an ,n
terprise of the side is lnunc~hed. lint
how much does English argll,lo~y
owe to them? We believe that twenty
pounds was the largest contribhtion
Thomas Wright could pcrsuade any
rich patron to advance towards un,-ov
ering Uriconium. Poor men did what
was done mostly, and now that won
derful city is reburied. Sillchemtr is
another instance of our own day. lint,
after all, British archalology is n "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.
tlsek One Year and White the Ne't.
A woman apiared k the streets of
Canton, Mich., recently who attractted
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 a-ns fifteen
years old, when she suddenly turned
white, remaining so for one yea:', when
she turned black again. Since that
time she is alternately white and black,
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 dl.-se 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
gloves. She says if the sun shines on
her skin for one moment it causes it to
blister at once. She has been examined
by physicians, who are unable to na.
count for the change in her colc. -
N. b. Times-Democrat
-And She Failed.-"What's the mat
ter, dear?" asked Mr. Justwed as he
came into the house and found his wvfe
crying as if her heart would breaak. "I
am so discouraged,'" she sobbed. "What
has bothered my little wife?" "I worked
all the afternoon making custardl pies,
heanose I knew you were so fond of
them, and-and--" Here she began
weeping hysterically again. "And
what, darling?" "And they turned out
to be sponge cakes."-Bubalo Exr-esn.
IN THE ELECTRICAL WORLD.
-The astronomers of Varner's ob
servatory at Rochester. N. Y.. have
asked the local electric light cotupani es"
to adopt shades for their electriJ lights,
claiming that the gleams of light there
from make accurate observations im
possible.
-The Compagnie Translantique has
again brought forward the question of
lighting the Atlantic route from Ire
land to Newfoundland. It is proposed
to have ten powerful floating lights two
hundred miles apart, and connect them
by electric cables.
-A new system Sf train starting bas
been inaugurated in the Dearborn sta
tion in Chicago. A large clock in the
train dispatcher's office runs by elec
tricity. Connecting wires extend to
large gongs in the different w·giting
rooms and in the train sheds. Two
minutes beforb the train starts the dif
ferent gongs ring in all parts of the
building.
-A patent for a process of uniting
broken pieces of arc light carbons has
recently been granted. By thisprocess
the fragments of carbon are combined
to any desired lengths by means of a
paste composed of pulverized carbon
and coal tar, mixed in about equal
parts and applied hot, after which the
carbons are baked until the paste
hardens.
-It is said that the Chilian govern
ment is considering the sabject of
lighting by electricity the dangerous
straits of Magellan. As its greatest
coal deposits are on the northern shores
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 between
the two great oceans.
-"The state of Massachusetts, as
viewed from a balloon," says the Elec
trical Review, "will soon present the
appearance of a huge gridiron. if all
the trolley schemes now in contempla
tion are carried out. Hamlets will be
connected by rapid transit with vil
lages, villages with towns and towns
with cities, until a business man 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 loco
motive which is to travel I25 miles an
hour. The Independence Blcge follows
with the statement that the North Bel
gian Co. and the North France Co. are
constructing a line for locomotives,
operated by electricity, on which the
journey from Brussels to Paris, about
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 in about two
months.
-The new system of electric street,
lighting which is to be introduced oý
Fifth avenue, New YkIW gb R
two lamps instead
each post. Int 1lT
light and bette' ONJ
>hat bhadr
view, and cod( .
low voltage m m
pany. Each lamp
volts, and the pairs wilr
up in series and the system mnu.
that no wire will carry over 110s
electric pressure.
-The Westinghouse Electric & Man
ufacturing Co. recently exhibited its
new lamp and its WVorldL, fair senerat
ors at the old 1Westinglhouse air brake
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 lamps, and with the 13
1,000-horse-power engines required to
drive them will form the largest single
exhibit of machinery ever shown at an
exposition. The weight of each dyna
mo will be about 150,000 pounds, and
the armature, the largest single piece
of each machine, is about 90 inches (7-3>
feet) in diameter, and weighs 42,000
pounds.
OWLS HAVE THEIR USES.
Alice, Ineets. G(ophers and the Swarming
,l arrow rood for the Wise Bird.
The little screech-owl, well known in
most parts of thg country, is indefatig
able in its work of destroying mice and
insects It may often be seen %t dusk
hovering about barns and outhouses,
watching for mice, or skimming over
the fields or along hedgerows in search
of grasshoppers, crickets and beetles.
Many birds of this species have taken
up a residence in the cities having
learned to feed upon that most de
structive nuisance, the-English sparrow.
In winter rural residents often notice
the tracks of mice which form net
works in the snow, crossing and recross
ing, passing in and out of walls and
stacks-tending to show how active
these small rodents are when most of
the world sleeps. Occasionally such a
track stops abruptly, and, while the ob
server is trying to read more of the his
tory written in the snow, his eyes catch
the faint impression of a pair of wing
tips near where the trail ends, and in
stantly he is made aware that a tragedy
has been enacted. Screech-owls also
feed on chipmunks, shrews, moles and
occasionally bats. During warm spells
in witer they forage extensively and
store up in their homes quantities of
food as a provision against inelement
weather.
Probably the most important from an
economic point of view among owls is
the bern owl. Its food is almost en
tirely made up of injurious mnammials.
In the west it feeds largely on pone hed
gophers, and the stomach contents
of many individuals examined hare
revealed little else than thi re
mains of these rodents. To apprecate
properly the serwices of this owl it inses
be remembered that pouched gophers
are among the most, if not the most, de
structive mammals which inhabit ths
country. In various other localitles It
feeds extensively- on the common ra~
The great horned owl, which tin te
east is persistent in its attaeksl a pem -
try and game, kills imme eeanmh .
of rabbits in rabbit infested paes
the west, where its assistee is _l.
uhble to the farmer. It is i nm e b
dieted to eating skunks, f whht f ·i .
yours great numbers whmere
objectionable antmals -
3a055 Trsrmerigp
,"i'