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The Lafayette gazette. [volume] (Lafayette, La.) 1893-1921, April 01, 1893, Image 7

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2H! IIFAYE TE GAZETTK
OLU13E I. LAFAYETTE, LA., SA'TEDAY, APRIL 1, 1893. NUMBER 4.
r ieHrND -THE nILt.
:, Zlbeily wan Wg: he could not knw #
- wesnºwayard - urrn~,, ow
L^fr:" ,-. in eaa"rly shallows bound.,
' 7 - sud shallop ran aground.
S-- ashamed of his disgrace
S w not uoof me in the face.,
s +or.,mothur, every man," sala be.
S ae scorn, and only scorn, for me;
I musa go forth wath alien men
-Ani grappleo with the world again.
Scannot stay and face the truth
Among thepeople of my youth.
- Whe- men are strange and scenes are new
There may be work for me to do.
And, when I have redeemed the past,
I will ome back to you at last. "
And so I watOhed while my boy, Will,
Went down behind the hill.
Rie climbed the hill at early morn
Beneath whose shadow he was born,
Be stood upon its highest place.
The sunrise shining on his face;
He stood there, but too far away
Por me to see his tears that day;
My thoughts, my fears, rconnot tell
A-m e bl.hack his sad farewelL
ndinCn f1* , and ray boy, Vill,
Went down ind the hill.
Went down the hill; hencefor -for me
One jlcture in my memory
Crow10s every other from its place
A boy-with sunrise on hji face;
Rils sunrise-lighted face~aee
The sunset of all joy to me,
Per when he turned him from my sight
The morning mixed itself with night,
And darknecs came, when my boy, Will
Went down behind the hilL
The world is wide, and he has gone
Into its vastness, on and on,
I know not what bocts his path,
What hours of gloom, what days of wrath.
What terrors menace: him afar,
What nights of :;torm without a star,
What mountains loom above his way,
What oceans toss him night and day,
What fever blasts from desert sands,
What deatb-col* winds from frozen lands,
What shafts of sleet or sun may blight
My homeless wanderer in his flight;
I only know the world is wide
And he awaroam by land and tide.
" lh ide, ah met in every part,
But narrower than his mother's heart
Ajoyle.,s heart since my boy. Will,
Went down behind the hilt
1 know he bravely fights with fate,
But, ah, the hour is growing late;
I watch the hill by day and night,
It dimly looms before mty sight.
SAnd ast the twilight shadows fall;
The night is glooming over all;
S But in my boy a faith is give:,
As saints of old had faith in heaven:
1 know that he will come acaln,
His praise on all the lips of me'n:~
Be will come back to me at last
With deeds that shall redeem the past,
Nor desert plain, nor mountain steep,
Nor storm, nor thunder on the deep.
Nor tempest in the east or weRt.
Shall hold him from his mother's bre~at.
And though the world grown bllnd and dumb.
I feel, I know, that he will come;
Audi am waiting for him still.
And watch the summit of the hill:
sOletimes I think 1 see him stand
And wave a welcome with his hand,
But 'tin a cloud upon 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 thoere i light to see
And dream that he rill come to me:
And though tis dark within. without,
I will to-t shame him by a doub,;
The all-enfolding night draws ,enr,
But he will orme-I will not fear
But. sh, 'tis long since mi; boy, Will,
Went down behind the hill.
-S. W. Foss. in Yankee Blade.
ONE KLND OF CRANK.
Bow He Makes Lots of Trouble
for Hotel Men.
A New York Clerk Tells of a Curlous
Sort of Vanity Some People Are
Abmlcetd*Vitlath-Catchlg 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 swung his silver
Dandled cane with an air of impor
tance. His physique, voice and face
were deAlggned to aid him in hin attempt t
to create an impression. lie was tall
and broad-shouldered, had big features
and'.an aggressive ,lack mustache,
and|is voice was deep and sonorous.
He looted like a man who might try to
bulldoze another of lesser frame.
The clerk looked up at hint with a j
bland smile, ut made no pretense of
looking at the key rack, as is his cus- t
tom when he wants to learn whether a E
guest is in his room or not. Neither r
did he look at the register nor nt h;s
list of the day's guests. lie simply 1
said:
"Mr. Henry Wilson, did you say?
There is no such person stopping f
The inquirerilooked a little taken
aback, and a frown passed quickly I
ouer his face. When he spoke, the t
tone of bir voice suggested that he felt g
the clerk had estimated him properly, g
but he was impelled to make an at- a
tempt to change the clerk's theory. s
"•Is that so?" he asked in r.rrprise L
• that was evidently assumed; "when did
he leave?" c
"Idon't remember his having been
here," said the clerk, in a tone full of t
meaning.
"Oh, pshaw; you must be mistaken,"
said the man, fretfully. "VWhy, I am n
eertain he was here a week ago. I
have a telegram from him askling me p
to meet him on last Wednesday. Un
fortunately, I was out of town when
the telegram arrived, and it was not
forwarded. Wilson is the big million- ft
aire contraetor from Chicago, you
know b h
The last sentence was spoken so ;N
oildly that the men standing around, n
and even those on the settees, heard it o1
md looked at the speaker. b
•"He did not stop ltere," said the sl
elerk, ctn a monotonous, oh-you-make- fi
mo-tired tone. I'
"You are quite sure?" said the man, et
switching from the confident to the fc
concilatory. et
"Ponitive," said the clerk, turning d<
away. ti,
The man eoncealed the fact that he c
as disconcerted very cleverly. lIe -q
picked a toothpick out of the box on th
the e4tWr, and Out it between his pl
tips, w mu appearance of one lost in m
thughth Then he turned around and I
iear'tned with his back ragainst the
clerk's desk. His atWude was studied- fa
ly elegant, e eoaoid unmindful of ea
his rri r to e loosura to be looking ti
ower tbe beads . the men on the settee Os
across tlp lobby. The clerk looked at
F him occasionally in mingled anger and
asaniement. Presently the man walked
out into the center of the lobby, glanced
slowly aroun and walked deliberately
out of the ho)el through the writing
room and the ladiesiantrance.
"I wish somebody would invent a
sure crank-killing machine," said the
cler>jafter the man had disappeared.
"That fellow was the sixth to-night."
,w "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 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?
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 positio .Antes y with
great men, and all ha sort of
thing? Of course you ave, and have
known all the time that they 'were
merely faking. Well, that sort of man
comes in here neatly 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. IIe wants to show
off his clothes and imitation diamonds,
and m alce 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'tlxist as
an excuse for coining 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 something of
the kind. I frightened one of these
fellows nearly out of his wits one night
lie was a perfect jay, and stnttered.
IIe asked if 'lloward 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 lie
tumbled. 'What did you wish of me,
sir?' lie said, crowding him up into this
corner. The fellow turned blue with
fright. 'I g-g-gness I m-m-ade a m-m
mistake,' he stutterc:l. 'You asked for
Howard Johnson,' I rid:l., aeVercry.
'And that's my name.' said the detec
tive, taking the hint. 'Y-v-yes,' said
the fellow. 'b-b-hut I g-g-guess y-you
air a d-d-differcnt Il-1l-Iloward.' 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
nMr. 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
a 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. Tney alwafs pre
tended surprise when told lie had gone
without leaving messages for them,
and would try to talk confidentially
with us, in tones loud enough to be
I hearj fifty feet away, about their inti
mate relations with the big men. We
vwe overrun with them, and found it.
difficult to attend to our business, for
they stuck like leeches. It vwas a grxeat
relief to see them drop oty after the
campaign, but we are ,.till annoyed by
enough to make us sore at tirres."--N
Y. Sun.
All Abot,,t tOrls.
(;'rls 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 bhe an author S hen 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 swh-at the girl says. I
hide b hind 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.
WVel, 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 la.st remark."
Well, sir, Puttihead fainted and sis- 1
ter screamed bloody murder, and Da
rushed in and hauled me out into the
woodshed, and, oh, if he didn't raise a
my coat in great shape! s
That is all I know about girls at v
present -National Tribune. a
Teeth of tire Neghro.
The old-time colored man was noted b
for the brilliant whiteness of his teeth h
-a qality which is not inherited by n
his descendants of the present day. t
Nowadays the teeth of the negroesdo t
not seem to be nearly as good as those c
of his white brother. The reason is to d
be found in the change of food. " The
slaves had plenty to eat. but the food a
given them was of the simplest kind. ti
Pork. meal, potatoes, and such veg- tl
etables as they raised themselves, n
formed their bill of fare. Now they i
eat all sorts of indigestible stuff, out- ti
doing the white people in this direc- ii
tion, showing a particular fondness for e
candies and sweetmeats. The conse- a
quence is that in a single generation c
the ivory teeth of the slave have given o
place to the decayed fangs of the freed ft
nman.-St. Louis Olobe-Demnocrat o
-Tnhkwell--"Tf your story was a flat .i
failure, wly is it sellinr lire hot d,
cakes?" Blotter-"I had it bound with a
the title on the last pag'"-Inter o0
Ocean. *S
at A VISIT TO WHITTIER.
d oate Efeetive Mide-Lights 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
1- years; "large enough to be a city," our
friend declared; 'but I am not fat
enough to be an alderman." To us it
e was still a small village, though some
what dustier and less attractive than
when we first knew it.
n As we approached the house we saw
n him from a distance characteristically
: gazing down the roa r us, from his
n froptyard, ad a the rat li
suddenly dbTW peg,, ce 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
is cent of watering carts. The fruit hung
g heavily from the nearly leafless trees,
and the soft thud of the pears and ap
I plea as they fell to the ground could be
heard on every side in the quiet house
e yards. The sun struggled feebly
e through the mists during the noontide
a 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 ,e 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
Fr riend'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 ditlicult achieve
mente The noonday meal was soon
served and soon ended, and then we sat
down behind the half-closed blinds,
looking out upon the garden, the faded
vines and almost leafless trees. It was
a cozy room, with its l"ranklin stove,
at this season surmounted by a bou
quet, and a table between the windows,
where was a largeobouquet, which
Whittier hll;'self had gathered that
mornihng in anticipation of our arl i',;
lie had seemed brighter and better than
- we had dared to hope, and was in ex
cellent mood for talking. Referring
again to the Mlillerites, who had ben
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
comnlacency. "
lie had just received a proof of his
poem, "Miriam,."',jith the introduction,
and he could noilbe 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
al tered.
1Whittier'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 wouv,t
say; "that is worth having." But he
must often have known the deeps of
trouble in winter %venings when he
was too ill to touch book or pcn, and
when he could do nothing during the
long hours but sit and think over the
fire. t
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- t
ens', the diary of Pepys lay on the
table. Dickens had read his copy faith
fully and written notes therein. Of
thts copy the leaves had not been cut,
but with it lay the "'Prayers of the
Age," and volumes of poems which had r
all been well read and "'ickwick" up
on the top--Annie Field, in Ilarper's r
Magazine.
ANIMALS IN WET WEATHER, c
Their Hablts and tIntlncts Ii Regard to g
Sheltering Thrmselves.
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 m
and devices by which our wild ani ma s
endeavor to avoid the worst discomfo i a
which it brings. inut those who are t
bold enough to go forth in all weathers I
know by experience that in all but the a
most open countries there are generally i
to be found some cosey corners to which b
the rain does not penetrate, or which, I
even it not fry, are sheltered from the q
direct access of the driving drops. t
Animals, birds especially, while 'I
showing the utmost dislike to endure c
the storm, are by no means so clever in s
the use of such natural shelters as r
might be supposed. Hares, as a rule, lI
leave the open country and seek shel- is
ter in the woods; and stupid as they are a
in circumstances new to their experi- d
ence. as when suddenly chased, or in h
avoiding snares and traps, they show a
considerable ingenuity in securing their g
comfort They nearly always make a h
form near, but not touching, the trunk o
of some large tree. Thus, while securing sl
the shelter of the stem and overhanging si
imbs, they avoid the water which drains b
down to the main column and forms, as
any one may see by .ooking at the foot b
of a large timber ree in a meadow, a
tiny canal at the base of the trunk.
The writer has petines seen hares,
not lying in their , but sitting up
in such places, as a laborer shel
ters behind a h. k. Where there
are no woodlI y creep under the
irregular over cornice made by
Le the crumblin of the n Id be
neath the roo hedge-banks and
r there scratch" - pug and dry re
treat. .
1 Rabbits AVualI3 keep under ground
in their. urrows, only coring out to
feed, unles.heir les are flooded, as
often happeBs at a lonz curse of
wet They tbtp l, the warren alto
gether, and lie out' nong the turnips,
or even on the opet stubbles, huddled
up into the snall_ possible space, as
if they had lost ~faith in the possi
V bility of finding ehqr shelter. Rats
have the strongq't,]possible dislike to
damp. an on - t approach of
-r the stacks and
farm buildings. Thosec which spend
their lives along the banks of rivers
" and brooks-a semi-aquatic breed of
g and 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
g 6anks, and go up into the crowns of
the pollard willows which fringe the
streams and line the hedges; in these
C they find warm, dry, and well-drained
winter lodgings, safe even in flood-time;
P 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 Qt 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; arnd the comical, half-re
luctant, and wholly Buiky look of an
i old dog-fox, as he stands hesitating be
tween prudence and comfort, should ap
Speal to the most unsympathetic 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 state of nature, they
would travel miles to some banik .
thicket,which would at least give o.;
against the wind. Shtnt up betaeen n
four hedges, they are denied alike the
aid or l l.^lS ft_.tetlkought and of their
own instinct. ewi-'s vignettes of old
horses or unhapp} doskys.L ; huddled
together in driving' srhowers on s ..._
bleak common. elpress a vast amount
of animal misery in an inch of woodcut.
It seemns strange that no animal, unlecs
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 sehse to do so "As thie
creatures hop disconsolately aliong in
the rain," writes ]Mr. Kipling, in hirs
"Beast and Mlan in India." "'or ·rou ch
on branches, with dripping baces set
against the tree-trunk as shelter from !
a driving storm, they have the air of
being very sorry for themselves.'" But
even the ourang-outanry. whiicih bIuilds al
small platform in the trees rn which to
sleep at night, never seems to think of
a roof, though the Dyaks say that when 1
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, asI
in the case of the swallow, choosei
some existing roof, such as the eaves of
a house or a projecting cliff, tr cover
the nest, when built of materials which r
wet would destroy, seem incnapa;ble of
making a waterproof house' for them
selves. (;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- t
hags," in whose hollows they might 1
find shelter. Partri'dges huddle under r
the fences, or lie on the driest arid '
barest places on the fallows, apparent
ly caring less for shelterabov, than for a
dry soil beneath them. Rooks often
flock into thick fir-trees, or in summer Ii
take refuTge in the old and close-gro,w
ing oaks which line the roadsides. But I
the small and helpless birds, yellow
hammers, buntings, chaffinches and A
linnets seem quite bewildered by the n
beating storms. They creep into cart- t
ruts or behind tufts of grass: often tlhey
take refuge under the big Swede tur
nips round the edlges of the fieldis,
where they are so numbed and cramped A
by cold and wet that they may be
caught by the hand, or are picked up
by stoats and rats, humble an i uincon
stcered victims of the "plague of rain
and waters." -London Spectator. n
A Mnlodlh Material.
For the best dresses that women of p
moderate means keep for special occa
sions there are various inexpensive j
satin fabrics that wear and look much fr
better than silks of similar low price. t
For the present season the satin surahs t
are not heavy enough, and "real satin"
is too costly, hence the careful shopper's
buys the satin duchess or merveilleux, ti
because its surface is closely woven in
stead of showing a broad serge-like a
twil that cheapens the effect at once.
These come in olive and moss 1'reen,
copper red, maroon and golden-brown ,
shades, as well as in black. at prices hi
ranging from eighty cents to one dol- i
lar and twenty-five centsa yard. Llack I L1
is first choice just at the moment, and Ft
a skirt of this material now in the rl
dressmaker's han-.s is made in the still ti
highly popular enlarged bell shape with I
a plaited ruche, with rows of jetted J.
gimpabove for trimming. This one skirt ,
has, to be worn with it, a stylish coat i 1
of satin brocade with cape-collar and or
sleeves of velvet, an Eton jacket of .rn
satin, like the ,akirt, opening over a h
blouse waist trimmed with the jetted a
gimp; and a low-cut sleeveless corselet n
1bodice of plain black velvet to wear th
with guimpes and fancy waists. -N. Y. Ft
l'ost o
I, EATING DINNER MECHANICALLY
The Walter Does Everythlogl But Swallow
: the Food a.d urluk.
On a recent evening a big man with a
e heavy walk entered a well known cafe
Y 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
6 to indulgence of the appetite for good
'f things. His movements indicatedathat
he felt sluggish, and it would have cre
ated no surprise in the observer to have
been told that he was liable to apo
s plexy. lie seemed preoccupied, and
-glanced listlessly about the room.
S Presently a waiter came up tohim. He
was about the same age as the man at
f the table, but was quick and active.
1 *Good morning, Mr. Jones," he said,
briskly. "'We have some nice turtle
soup and some excellent roast grouse."
"All right, James," said the other,
e absent-mindedly.
"Some potatoes chateau and a lettuce
salad?"
t "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
3 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
a it, and set it down beside his plate.
The man did not notice it, but began to
v eat his soup greedily.
"You are forgetting your sherry, sir,"
said the waiter, respectfully.
Mechanically the diner reached out
and carried tie glass to his lips. The
r waiter watched him as carefully as a
mother does her child, filled the glass
of water when it was empty, replaced
1 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
- tatoes and picked out the tender pieces
I of celery.
"[)o you want your champagne, sir?"
he asked.
"\Vhat champagne?" demanded the
~ [ner', querulounly.
"You havrd a half bottle left from last
night. sir."
"lring it on, then."
T'e waiter returned with a half
Iempty bottle. A rubber cork tightly
pressed into the mouth had preserved
the sparkle. Through the remainder
of the mneal the waiter never relaxed
his watchfulness, although he had to
wait on two other tables. \Vhen the
diner had finished his coffee he started
LG ~. ..'.'T,, waiter, who happened to
be at another tatibm, Jn..t;is n se
"\Vait a moment, Mr. 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 andespoon. He 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 wvas
thoroughly lighted. The waiter now
helpedjthe man on with his overcoat,
adjusted his silk mutfer, buttoned up
the coat and hanled him his cane.
"Good night, Mr. Jones," said the
waiter, as the man toddled away. An
indistinct mumbling was the only re
The head waitler explained. "That
nman Jones," said he, "has been coming E
here for fifteen years and always has t
the same waiter. Ile's a grouty man, a
but not had hearted, lie's a chronic t
dyspeptic, but you see he won't deny I
himself much. Yd'm noticed he didn't c
tip the waiter? That's because he pays I
him once a week and generously. le
pays his meal checks the same vay.v.
The waiter knows his habits absolute- e
ly, and, as you saw, does not require '
any orders. lie knows that he wants a
certain things always, and understands a
his tastes well enough to be able to a
sug~est 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 prevents. as well he C
might, for the waiter does about every- t
thing except eat and drink for him."- t
N. Y. Sun. a
THE MILLIONAIRES' MALADY.
A dlental Disease which V. the Outgrowth v
ff time Porseslon of (treat Wealth.
There is reason to think that great
wealth begets a mental disease akin to C
those forms of paralysis which affect a
minute portion of the brain. It is not
to be denied that the very rich, as a 1
lass, show as much sense as other peo
Iep. Those who have made their own
fortuneos may well have narrowed their
hinds in the process. They probably ,
fell into a groove, and we must not look
to themn for sympathy with new ti
tlhoughms or projects. But the majority
-in Europe, at least-inherited wealth t
and they passed through the same
training commonly, imbibed the same
ideas as the rest of us. We knew some
jf them at school or at the university,
where they were much like other youths ,
--.qually interested in the "queStions" a
which took their fancy. They mayeven
have promised in all sincerity to aid in h
solving 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 N
time arrives, no reasonable person will
:ondemn th. To find one's aelf in the
;aternal seat. surveying landsall one's te
iwn, as far as eye can see. or reckoning ci
ap the money-bags, is not less exciting, cr
arobably, when that day has been an- al
ireipated from childhood. But in a he
;hort time the situation Ucomes famil- al
ar. and then that reasonable person, if he
nexperienced, looks for fulfilment of th
the promise. iBut rarely indeed is he w
rratified. The mental disease has w
round a lod-ment His rl friendmay tc
Y atill take interest in the question, what.
ever it be. But somehow his mind can
no longer grasp the obvious fact that
a he himself might settle it, once for all,
fe by-applying no great proportion of the
y money which lies idle at his bank.
It is clear, also, that this malady
:e grows more common, and intensifies.
- When the rich were by no means so
e- many or so wealthy as now, they
.. founded all sorts of charitable institu
1e tions-schools, colleges, chantnes, hos
d pitals. At present they subsclrbe just
at like anybody else, and their contribu
e- tion often enough is not more liberal
re than that of men whose capital is no
p. greater than their income. In the
,d building of churches alone do a few of
o them make show of rivaling their fore
Le fathers' munificence. But those sub
st scriptions acknowledge the obligation.
A millionaire who flatly refused to do
1, anything for his fellow-creatures could
le not be charged with inconsistency at
least. But he who gives a hundred
r, 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
,d pairing appeals year by year. Their
, emissaries beg in the streets. They
it work through the directory, and write
I to each householder. Their boxes stand
t. in every public place. Of late they
d have addressed workingmen. But all
x the while there are hundreds of capital
1 ists-not less kind-hearted nor less in
It telligent than other people-who could
set the largest of them on its legs for
o 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
t think, and certainly it would honor.
e Why do none of them perform it? Be
a cause, we apprehend, their perception
s is dulled by the strange malady which
d attends great wealth.
I The diagnosis becomes more reason
r 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
t looked by busy men-and all million
aires are busy somehow. But it may bts
s said that each of them cherishes somu
private fancy-art or archmeology, sel
ence in one or other form, horticult,
ure, or sport at least. But very few
e are they who use their opportunity
even here. Many work hard-but only
t in the same groove with men who labor
at the identical task for their livelk
hood. Take the easiest and commnoness
of such tastes. The millionaire who
devoted a hundred thousand pounds toJ
horse-breeding, consulting men of set
r ence as well as experts, might do enc
1 less good, with continual delight for
himself, and found at least a new straitO
of thoroughbreds. But millionaires dot
i not show enthusiasm for sport com
monly. Some, as is known to the so
lgct, apply themselves to science, and
" Qspen py which would represent
fabulous sum to t t  ý ". t
but to them must be a trifle, in expcr'.
ments and researches. We have heard,
indeed, of a bold and costly undertak
ing which an eminent personage, still
living, projected in his youth. lit,
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 at 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 wvould
happen if that twent-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. lint it is not re
corded that this gentleman has devised
any such scheme since he camne in .o his
patrimony.
Millionaires of culture mnut hI, inter
ested in antiquarian researches iiwhich
throw light upon the past. They e~r,n
mnonly subscribe, indeed, when an e-n
terprise of the side is launchedl. lint
how much does English ar-luehwlory
owe to them? WVe believe that twenty
pounds was the largest contribuntion
Thomas Wright could emrsua,'e a ny
rich patron to advance towards un,.ov
ering Uriconium. Poor men dlid w-hat
was done mostly, and now that won
derful city is reburied. Silchester is
another instance of our own day. Iut, 1
after all, British archmnoloyv 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 t
appeal beyond here or there offering a
little check, such as poor authors and p
professors rival?--London Saturday Re- a
view. t
Hlack One tear and White the Nmot. t
A woman app-ared ch the streets of
Canton, Mich., recently who attracted a
much attention. She has a perfectly t
white face and hands and short kinky t
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 for one year-, 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 d'use 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 examnined
by physicians, who are unable to an-
count for the change in her colc'.
N. 6. Times-Democrat a
-And She Faileld.--"What's the mat- c
ter, dear?" asked Mr. Justwed as he E
came into the house and foruned his wife '1
crying as if her heart would break. "I c
am so discourag'ed," she sobbed. "Vhat t
has bothered my little wife?" "I worked 0
all the afternoon making custard pies. t
because I knew you were so fond of u
them, and--and-" Here she began d
weeping hysterically again. "And W
what, darling?" "And they turned out o
to be sponge cakes-Baalo Expresa
IN THE ELECTRICAL WORLD.
° -The asstonomers of Warner's ob
servatory at Rochester, N. Y.. have
asked the local electric light companies 
e to adopt shades for their electri" 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 Lre
land to Newfoundland. It is proposed
to have ten powerful floating lights two
hundred miles apart, and connect thes
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 wgiting
rooms and in the train sheds. Twe
minutes before the train starts the dif
I ferent gongs ring in all parts of the
building.
-A patent for a process of uniting
broken pieces of are light carbons has
? recently been granted. By this process
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 asystem would, of course,
t 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. ift 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 1253 miles an
hour. The Independence lcge follows
with the statement that the North Bel
gian Co. and the North lFrance 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 streel
lighting which is to be introduced o -
Fifth avenue, New 1Yk,-_ -1J 1h
two lamps instead
each post. In 1
light and bett'lU.ON
,>that shadr
view, andco
low voltage mi- !EI
pany. Each lamp
volts, and the pairs wirlt
up in series and the system mu,
that no wire will carry over 110"I
electric pressure.
-The Westinghouse Electric & Man
ufacturing Co. recentliL exhibited its
new lamp and its 1Vorld'L fair venerat
ors at the old 1Vestinglouse 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
lo-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 1l0,000 pounds, and
the armature, the largest single piece
of each machine, is about 90 inches (711
feet) in diameter, and weighs 42.000
pounds.
OWL.S HAVE THEIR USES.
Mice, insects. (Gophers and the Swarming
Slparroow Frood for tile 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 at 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. theEnglish 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 w~arm spells
in witer they forage extensively sand
store up in their homes quantities of
food as a provision against inlement
weather.
Probably the most important frosn an
economic point of view among ow's is
the barn owL Its food is almost en
tirely made up of injurious mammals.
In the west it feeds largely on pouchbae -
gophers, and the stomach caontents
of many individuals examined have
revealed little else than thi re
mains of these rodents. To appreclate
properly the seiwices of this owl it minet
be remembered that pouched gophers
are among the most, if not the most, de
structive mammals which inhabit tlhi
country. In various other localitles I
feeds extensively on the common rat.
The great horned owl, which in ti
east is persistent in its attecks on peil
try and game, kills imamenase a
of rabbits in rabbit infrtes p sl
the west, where its assiateece t i
uable to the farmer. It Sh ammt i
dicted to eating skunks, of whlAfth -
yours great nuwaers wbfrteen
objectionable matmals aga

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