Newspaper Page Text
THE LAFAYETTE GAZETTE.
VOLUME I. LAFAYETTE, LA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1803. NUMBER 31.
PEREGRINE BROWN'S TELEGRAM
When 11 elbres ill, .
As it Often will,
'Tie not alwaya a homeopathic pill.
But a dose, sometimes, that will cure or kilL
Bow the fates did frown
On Peregrine Drown,
'he wretchedest man in tfeadowtownl
When be went to buy,
The price was high:
Whes he went to sell, the price went down.
His pipe wont out, while his chimney smoked;
His well ran dry, though his hay was soaked.
It wouldn't have been so hard to bear
If his placid wife had borne her share
Of Fortune's trfkis in her own domain;
Slut her butter "came," and the kindly rain
Fell only on her serried box.
iler pansy beds, and her starry phlox;
'Though the chimney smoked, her bread was
Her ranks of milk pans silver bright;
And she always sung the same old song:
"It's all your fault that things go wrong;"
At ltst one day.
A, gate gave way,
And the c l's broke loose in a wild foray
On his q,.ghbor'a cornfield, Hip, hoorayl
If the last straw breaks the camel's back.
'Tere strange, indeed, if so huge a pack
Did not break down
Poor Peregrine Drown.
From his wife's shrill tongue and his neigh.
lie fled; but the omnipresent wire.
That probes the world with its points of fire,
Pierced to his hiding place. It said:
"Peregrine Brown, your child is dead;
,our wife Is dying;" Homo he sped,
Forgetting the ills that he had fled,
Like gnat-stings healed a month ago,
In the terrible woe
LThat froze his heart like a shroud of snow.
At the well-known farm.
The angry neighbor touched his arm,
As he growled: "Now pay me for my corn.
That your cows destroyed;" With a flash of
D3rown flung him his due "Now tell me, man,
Does my wife yet live?" The churl began,
With shame-flushed cheek, to make reply:
"I had never heard she was like to die I
Who told you?"-A patter of little feet
Cut short his words. No sound more sweet
Is heard In IIeaven. With sobs of Joy
The trther clasped to his heart his boy.
Though the rain still soaks
His hay and his rye;
Though his chimney smokes,
And his well runs dry;
Though the price is high
When he goes to buy
And is low as his well
When he goes to sell:
Thorl.h his "hired man" will run away
On the very morn of a haying day;
'though his cows prefer green corn to hay,
And his wife still sings the same old song:
"It's all your fault that things go wrong;"
Though the fates still frown
(In a minor way)
Yet Peregrine Brown
Is blithe and gay
In fact, as all his neighbors say,
He's the happiest man in Meadowtown.
-Edward Payson Jackson, in Youth's Com
SHE MADE HER WILL.
But Her Many Relatives Were
Hardly Ploasod With It.
MIiss Gallipot was certainly very rich
and was said to be enormously so. And
her wealth hadcome to her quite unex
It would have been natural that her
cousin, old Josephat Gallipot (of the
firm of Gallipot & Jams). who was
known to be a millionaire, slAuld have
left her something handsome. But no
one could have guessed he would make
her his heiress, least of all after she
had quarreled with him.
After he had been a widower twenty
years old Josephat Gallipot made up
his mind to marry his kitchen maid,
who was not more than forty years his
junior and was engaged to the milk
Then Miss Gallipot wrote him a let
"MY DEAn Jon: I don't suppose it will make
any difference 'whether I write to you or not.
But I have a regard for you, and feel it on my
conscience to do what I can to prevent your
bringing great misery on yourself.
"You have a perfect right to marry again if
you choose, and you can certainly afford to pick
a wife who has nothing but herself to recom
mend her. But the girl you are choosing would
be dear at the price if she brought you her own
weight in gold, and she's no feather by the look
"She will make you miserable, and I would
beg you to draw back from giving her the op
portunity. She has no affection for you, and if
you have any for her it will make it the worse
for you. Your sincerely affectionate cousin,
'"SARAn GALL OT."
To this letter no reply was sent, and
a week later the milkman's fiancee be
came Mrs. Gallipot. No further com
mnunication took place between the
cousins, and a couple of years after
ward Josephat Gallipot went the way
of all flesh.
No one was more simply astonished
than Miss Sarah Gallipot when she
learned that she had succeeded to his
entire fortune. He wrote:
"To my wife I bequeath my memory, know
ing that my love has been enough for her, and
that she has saved well during the two years of
our wedded life, for I do not belleve that our
household expenses have been seventy-five
thousand dollars per annum.
"To my cousin, Sarah Galllpot, I bequeath
absolutely all my real and personal estate, in
recognition of her candor and sincerity, and
with unavailing regret that I did not profit by
The will was dated a fortnight before
his death, and in process was duly
proved and administered.
Then Miss Gallipot discovered how
tenderly she was loved, and how count
less were her kinsmen and kinswomen.
For fifty-nine years she had been in
the habit of considering herself as
rather alone in the world. In her six
tieth year she found it was not so.
Nieces dropped from the sky, neph
ews rose from the earth, the clouds
distilled godchildren on to her head and
cousins fell around her like hailstones.
Nor did they come empty.
Eiome brought game from the coun
try, some sent choice fruits from their
If she had lived to be seven hundred
and eighty she could not have worn
out the cozy bedroom slippers that
were worked for her, and if she had
had as many mouths as the Nile she
could neverhave drunk up all the wines
that were sent her.
Devonshire cream came out of the
west; cakes of all sizes, shapes and de
scriptions came down from the north
and oysters from all quarters came rap
ping at her door.a
And the letters of affection that ne
companied them! These pasm all de
scription, and should have convinced
their recipient that of all the old ladies
that had ever lived she was herself the
derest. most beharming sand rst be
IQae* hi hew jtwelaps.
Eleven years after the death of old
Josephat Gallipot his cousin and heiress
It was a very hard winter, and from
almost the beginning of it the old lady
had declared that it would be her last
Her house, Gray Court, was a very.big
one; but it was soon filled to overflow
ing-filled with nieces and nephews,
cousins and godchildren, all eager to be
"in at the death."
Each had received a similar letter
from the old lady's housekeeper saying:
"'liss Gallipot thanks you for your de
sire to come and bid her good-by, but
she begs you will not take the trouble
of coming so far. She appreciates all
your affection, but would not like to
trespass. If, however, you insist on
coming I have her orders to prepare a
room for you."
And each one came.
Each found a comfortable apartment
made ready for his or her arrival,
and each found a Scripture text in large
capital letters framed upon the mantel
piece. The text was the same in each
room: "Where the carcass is there
shall the eagles be gathered together."
Gray Court was full of guests, but not
one of them was admitted to the dying
chamber of the hostess.
The doctors, or the nurse, or the old
housekeeper seemed always on guard,
and it would have been easier to slip
past a sentry than to get past them.
On the last day of the old year the
life of their hostess ebbed away; and
while the mufflaec peal was ringing out
over the frozen fields her naked soul
crept shivering out into the night.
On the eve of the twelfth day was the
funeral, and, after it, all received a
mandate from the deceased's .lawyer to
attend the reading of the will.
It was read in a very large room, like
a storeroom, in which they all found
themselves for the first time.
The will commenced with liberal be
quests to the deceased's doctor, lawyer
and parish clergyman, benefaction as to
the local poor and to certain charities.
When these were finished the guests
Then followed generous legacies to
her servants and a handsome provision
for the old housekeeper who had been
faithful to her during so many years.
Then came a list of the names of all
the guests. "To each of whom," said
the will, "I leave and bequeath such
legacy and bequest as I have already
indicated to you, my executor, and
which you will in turn indicate and
hand over to them on the occasion of
the reading of this, my last will and
The lawyer paused, and, rising from
his place, requested the attendant
servants to draw back the curtains that
hung on rings and rods all round the
This being done, large cupboards were
disclosed, each having painted upon it
in large letters the name of one of the
To each guest the lawyer handed a
key, requesting them to open the cup
board where they would find their be
Each one found within his or her
cupboard every gift that he or she had
ever made to the deceased exactly as
they had been received.
All provisions, fruit, cream, game,
etc., had (they were now informed)
been immediately dispatched to one or
other of the great London hospitals.
B3ut each cupboard contained also a
purse in which was placed the full
value of such provisions, with a sum
equal to the compound interest on the
value of the other untouched gifts.
The will went on:
"And the residue of my estate, real and per.
snnal, whether in lands, tenements, houses, 1
frnds. stock, jewelry, plate, pictures, books, I
furniture, or of any kind whatsoever, I hereby
leave and bequeath to my nearest relation, male
or female, kniown to me or unknown, of whomn it
cannot be proved that he or she has at any
time shown to me any act of kindness, cour
tesy, good-will, politenesr affection at least
since theed day of January, in the year of our
Lord 1877, whereon deceased my late cousin.
Josephat Gallipot, of the firm of Gallipot & i
The will provided that such claim
must, however, be lodged within six
months of the death of the testator.
And thence arose the great Gallipot
The whole property subsequently n
fell to a distant relation of the Gallipot |
family, of whose existence most mem
bers of the family had up to that time
been quite unaware.-London Million.
A RATTLING TIME.
Given a Stlck and a Picket Fence the Boyg
Is Bound to Hlave It.
"Every middle-aged than of sound
memory who was brought up in town,"
said Mr. Gratebar, "will recall the fact
that when he was a boy he found great
delight in rattling a stick along the
picket fences. This amusement of
childhood, like many others of that
period of life, appears to have been
transmitted from generation to genera
tion without material change. The
strings of spools and the soldier hats
and so on of the children of to-day are
substantially like those of their fore
fathers. liut it might seem to some
that this succession is in danger of be
ing broken. In many suburban towns
and villages there is now nio picket
fence. - The modern spirit says lawns,
and so there are many places where
the houses are as if in parks, and where
the'younger children might not know
a picket fence if they should see one.
I have two children, for instance, who
I am quite sure have never enjoyed the
felicity of rattling a hard stick against
the resounding pickets. It might in
deed seem, under such circumstances,
that this is one of the enjoyments of
childhood which in some families might
be lost altogether; that one could
scarcely expect the children of these
children who have never rattled pickets
to think of it themselves: but I cannot
believe this. I believe, rather, that if
in their youth the children of these
children should come upon a town
where picket fences still remained they
would pick up the hardest stick and
go quite naturally and very gleeful
ly rattling it along the pickems; for
I cannot believe that a habit grounded
for centuries in the humnan race can be
utterly lost by its lapse in a single gon
awtlon.--N, Y. Sun.
DRESSING FOR THE RIDE.
Neat and Comfortable Costumes for Equs
The materials used in the making at
women's riding habits are broad an'
severt cloths, and, especially for sum
u.er wear, light-weight serges. The
"alors are black, blue, gray, brown it
3ark and tan shades, and only very oc
assionally the hue which was once the
most fashionable-dark green. Hlabitb
are made this season usually in but
two pieces-jacket and skirt-eques
trienne tights having to a great exteni
replaced the riding trousers once at
generally worn. The waist is what is
known as the English cut: a round
short basque with coat back
not postilion - and with plai,
jacket or cutaway front. Double
breasted effects are used quite
as often as single. Linings are of silk.
satin-serge or, more commonly, o01
farmers' satin or dress lining. The
buttons are always specially manun
factured from the cloth of which the
habit is made, with horn or leather
backs and edges. A tiny pocket for
the hunting watch and handkerchief it
fund on the lower left-hand side ol
the front of the basque. Adjustable
dickies, and cuffs which button to the
jacket with tiny flat pearl buttons, are
sometimes used. They are made o1
Mime contrasting color, hunting pink
a rich, light red-being the favorite
shade. Skirts are made much shorte,
or late than in former years, and this
season's styles show no change in the
sensible alteration. For a skirt
to be the correct length ii
should just escape the ground
when the wearer is standing, or
should reach the tip of the boot on the
outer limb when she is in the saddle.
A comfortable summer habit consists
of a serge riding shirt and blazer worn
with a silk shirt-waist.
While the absolutely proper head
piece for a riding costume in the ladies
beaver, or high hat. there are many'
other more comfortable and equally
becoming styles of headgear that claim
recognition. Caps made in one or in
four sections, with round visor or
peaked front, soft felt slouch hats, En
glish derbys or small-brimmed sailor
hats, in white, black or dark blue, are
ail appropriate. A veil should always
be worn with the riding costume. A
plain tulle or net veil, reachinn
to the tip of the nose, Is considered
the correct thing. The prettiest veils,
however, are those made from twc
yards of white gauze. They are fas.
tened with one end to the back of the
hat, hrouglht around over the brim and
face, and, crossing at the back, wound
tightly around the neck.
A four-buttoned glove of heavy kid,
in tan or mode shades similar in style
to a gentleman's walking glove, is the
most comfortable for riding. Soft
Russia leather gloves made with anr
elastic at the inside of the wrists, with
a gore inserted at the outer eanm, so an
to form a gauntlet ,are preferred to the
stiff gauntlets formerly worn. Iligil
boots made of kangaroo or finest calf
skin are the most fashionable for rid
ing wear: but any flat-heeled, easy
shoe, with stiff ankle support, is, how
ever, all that is necessary -Ladies
Homc .lourna l.
The hlardships of Loyslty to Family Ob.
A Yale rstudent had barely finished
his college course when his father died
suddenly, leaving a large family in re
duced circumstances. The young man
had planned a professional career for
himself, and had an excellent opening
in a western city. Without a murmur
he remained in the east, obtained a
clerkship in an insurance office, and
earned what he could for the support
of his famtily.
Year after year he devoted his life
with cheerfulness to a business for
which he had no taste. It was a plain
duty to help his mother and sisters. and
it was not shirked.
As time passed he read law and was
admitted to the bar, but, the necessity
of feeding and clothing those at home
forced him to remain an insurance
clerk. Meanwhile, college classmates
without a drag upon their careers were
rising steadily to positions of eminence
in professional life.
''Some men always get the burnt
cooky," he used to say. grimly.
That was his sole comment upon the
sacrifice of his youthful hopes and am
bitions to commonplace home duties.
Another college graduate had hardly
received his diploma before lie was
compeled to face poverty and family
disgrace. Ilis father, who had been
reputed to be wealthy, was an em
bezzler and a fugitive from justice.
Ills mother and sisters were entirely
dependent upon his modest earnings in
a broker's office.
He had planned taking an advanced
course of professional study in archi
tecture. lHis ideal occupation had to
be abandoned. lie was in love with a
charming girl, but ceased to visit her,
since marriage'was out of the question.
An opportunity for a year's travel in
Europe at a friend's expense was given
Year after year he maintained a hard,
bitter struggle to make a living at un
congenial employment for his mother
and sister, to support his father
abroad, and to overcome prejudice
caused by the family disgrace. He be
came a successful business man, but
was prematurely gray at forty. lHii
life was haunted by the ghosts of his
Such lives do not furnish material for
exciting estories. They are dull and
prosaic, ~at are nevertheless heroic.
To give up all the. is dear to yonth,
and to be loyal to family obligations,
sometimes is a crowning triumph of un
DUE TO ALCHEMY.
The DIscovery of a Way to M1ake Porees
lain Almost an Accident.
Although porcelain was known t,
both the Chinese and Japanese for aget
it was not introduced into Europe until
t he beginning of the eighteenth cen
tury, when John Botteher, a native ol
Schiz in Voightland, was the first tc
This man was apprentice to a Berlin
apothecary named Zorn. in whose shop
he conferred some favor upon a pro
fessed alchemist, who in return prom
ised to teach him the art of transmut
ing the baser metals into cold. Bottch
er, after studying under his new mas
ter for a time, imagined that his for
tune was made, and in 1700 he ran
He was pursued, but found proIction
among friends, who demanded to wit
ness an exhibition of his pretended
skill, and the poor fellow was eventu
ally compeled to acknowledge that he
had been imposed upon.
But he persevered in his lanors, and
on one occasion, having made a mix
ture of various finely-organized earth
for the purpose of making strong cruci
bles, he discovered after he had taken
the compound mass from the oven that
he had gained a kind of pottery more
beautiful than he had ever seen.
The transmutation, it may therefore
be said, took place not in the metals
indeed, but in his own person, but
Bottcher was suddenly changed from
an alchemist to a potter. In 1700 the
first porcelain was manufactured in
Being made of colored clay it pre
sented a light brownish red hue, but
as nearly as 1809 a beautiful white por
celain was obtained, and its manufac
ture was fully established during the
following years.-St. Louis Republic.
HOW ITIS DONE.
Replaclng Overturned Cars and Engines
on the Tracks.
The derrick handles derailed cars
and engines with marvelous ease. The
track repairers level the ground about
the prostrate car or engine, if it be
down an embankment, build a tempo
rary track down to it, and then let the
derrick car get to work. The hydraul
ic jack usually comes into play in turn
ing car or engine upon its feet, but the
derrick, with the horse and saddle,
does the work of placing a ear upon
trucks. The derrick reaches round for
a truck from the flat car and drops it
on the temporary track, lifts one end
of the car until the horse and saddle
may be shifted under it. and when a
truck has been rolled under one end
lifts the other so that a second
track may be put in place. This
done, the car is dragged up to the main
track and run upon a siding. An en
gine must be handled with greater
care, and a skilled mechanic is usually
at hand to see that no harm comes to
its mechanism. Passenger cars need
like care, because, although strong be
low the windows, they are flimsy in the
roof. Air brakes and easily-removable
parts of the engine are taken off before
the lifting begins.
All the ingenuity of the wrecker is
called into phay when a wreck lies at
the bottom of a river, and sometimes
days, or even weeks. are required to get
an engine from such a predicament.
Once engine and cars have been set
upon their feet a length of track laid
upon a raft is sunk beside them. Other
lengths of track are added, banks and
even river beds are graded, if need be,
and in time the wreck is triumphantly
drugged ashore on the temporary track.
FATHER HAMON'S STATISTICS.
Extenteof the Great Inanlgration from the
There are in New England at least
S00,000 I"rench Canadians, some of them
born in Canada of lrench-('anadian
parents, and some born in the United
States. In a work entitled "',Les Cana
diens-Francais de la Nouvelle Angle
terre," Father Ilamon gives the numn
ber of French-Canadian Catholics in
New England in 1891 as .02.0.159-about
one-third of the total Catholic popula
tion of the six states. As these statis
tics are collected by the church for its
own purpose, they are probably nearly
accurate. The book, it should be
stated. was written for the purpose of
enforcing upon the people who had
quitted their native parishes the duty
of remaining faithful to their church,
and of preserving their language, and
their royal love at least for the country
of their ancestors.
In addition to the French Canadians
who had settled in New England. Fa
ther Hlamon says there are about 100.
000 other French Canadians in the
northern part of the state of New
York and the diocesses of Syracuse and
Albany. An interesting and important
fact is also mentioned by the reverend
writer in connection with the French
Canadians who are in New 'England.
lie points out that most of the Enghlish
speaking Roman Catholics "are con
centrated in certain great cities of the
east, like ltoston,where alone there are
250,000 Catholics: while the Canadians,
on the contrary, for the most part es
tablish themselves in the small manu
facturing towns, and they already have
a majority in several of them."--lenry
Loomis Nelson, in Hlarper's Magazine
Nothiag New In It.
'"I spent half the afternoon the
other day," said Mrs. ]Hilltops, "trying
to match a woolen dress of my daugh
ter's in silk, and the nearest I could
come to it was at least two shades too
dark; but that didn't disturb my
daughter a bit: slhe simply spread it
out next day in the sun and faded it to
a perfect match. She was inclined to
take great credit to herself for this.
for she thought it was an o.-iginal
idea, as indeed it was with her; but I
explained to her that it was very, very
old: that I had myself done the same
thing with a faded gingham dress, for
instance, for which I desired to make a
new waist or a new pair of sleeves;
that I had taken a new piece of the
same materirl and washed it and hung
it out in the sun, and had repeated
this process until the new utaterial
was faded to nmatch the old; that in
fact this is one of those discoveries
that people simply keep on making
over and over again."'-N. Y. Sun.
An (Hbm.ect in VIew.
lie-She says she likes to have me
call on her.
SShe-What's the name of the fellow
she is trying to hlrry uP?-Ir001ookJln
OUR PETTY OFFICIALS.
One of the Ways by Which Some of Them
Abuse Their Authority.
The offices of policeman, constable
and justice are popularly supposed to
signify a desire on the part of the pub
lic to have the laws of the land de
cently observed. To this end efforts
should be made to secure as in
cumbents for these offices men pos
sessing at least a reasonable amount
of common sense. Instead of this,
however, the conduct of some of these
people is such as to awaken a suspicion
that their chief aim and object is to
display their petty authority. It seems
absolutely necessary to them to bluster
and storm, to use a club or sometimes
a revolver as a means of intimidation.
The newer they are to the business
the greater spectacles they make
of themselves, and the more to be pitied
is the unfortunate who chances to fall
into their clutches. Well is it for him
if he escapes with a whole skull and
unfractured bones. No matter what
the offense or who the victim may be,
no officer should be allowed to do any
thing that might by any possibility
work injury to the person under arrest.
Exception may be made to this rule
only where the person to be taken into
custody violently resists arrest, and
where it is necessary to use force to se
cure him. IMere remonstrance or a re
fusal to go should never be made the
excuse for blows. In an event of this
sort the officer is always .able, if he
choose to do so, to summon necessary
help and effect the arrest without club
A great many police officers seem,to
think themselves authorized to be
judge, jury and counsel, and to hold
within their own persons .the right to
enforce what penalties this curious
process of reasoning may suggest to
them as proper. It is quite time that
some attention was given to educating
those who have the appointing power,
up to a pitch where they would take
measures to suppress this very grave
abuse. If a few men were made ex
amples of for using their club too free
ly, the effect on the remainder of the
force would be somewhat discouraging
to this practice, and in time we might
hope to have-guardians of the peace
as some one has ofacetiously called
them, who are not more dangerous to
the community than the actual crim
inals themselves.-N. Y. Ledger.
How a Prisoner's Presence of Mind Saved
Him Many Painful IHours.
During Gen. Custer's attacks on
Black Kettle's camp during one of the
United States' Indian wars, some of
the prisoners, taking advantage of the
thick brush, broke through the line of
the troops, and escaped to the prairie.
Maj. Elliott, calling some of his men
to follow, clashed off in pursuit of the
fugitives. Not one of the nineteen
cavalrymen was ever again seen alive
by a white man.
Intent on his purpose, and not sus
pecting the vicinity of other camps,
Maj. Elliott found his little party sur
rounded by an overwhelming horde of
Dismounting, loosing their horses
and forming in a circle, the little band
of twenty brave men prepared to sell
their lives as dearly as possible. In
less than twenty minutes every man
but one was dead.
Wounded in several places, his am
munition expended. Scrgt.- Maj. Ken
nedy stood alone, saber in hand.
No shot was fired at him, no effort
was made to kill him, but several of
the Indians approached him with hands
thrust out. saying: "How? lIow?"'
Too well he knew the meaning of
this kindly demonstration. He was to
be reserved for all the horrors of the
He saw that his only hope of escaping
torture was in so exasperating the In
dians that they would kill him.
Seeming to surrender, he advanced
toward the chief. They approached
each other. hands extended. Quick as
thought Kennedy's sword passed
through the chief's body. One instant
of terrified surprise on the part of the
Indians: the next, twenty bullet-holes
in Kennedy's body. The merciful death
had come to him.--Yankee Blade.
Curious 1Mode of Identiftemstion.
The science of modern anthropogra'
phy is constantly increasing its re
sources by introducing new measure
ments of various parts of the body, par
ticularly among the criminal class. The
measurement of the hand and fingers
is now considered of vast importance in
establishing personal identity. It is
certainly curious, in view of this fact.
to know that a similar process has been
in vogue among savage tribes, who
thus recognize their friends and foes.
Capt. Cupet reports that the inhabitang
of southern Anam place a thin bamboW
rod between the middle finger and the
sing finger of strangers who invade
their territory, on whicn they mark by
notches the distance from nail to the
first phalanx and all succeeding ones.
This bamboo rod is preserved. Every
stranger is compeled to submit to this
measurement. When they return after
a protracted absence the rod is applied
as mentioned, and their identity estab
lished as a friend, a new-comer or a
foe. Capt. Cupet, on his returns to
Anam, was always remeasured. lie
says that a similar method is practiced
in the Laos provinces.-St. Louis Post
Only One Didn't Rnow.
Bilkins (suffering from a heavy cold)
-I met forty-five different acquaint
ances this morning, and just forty-four
of them told me of some sure cure for
Wife-Didn't the forty-fifth offer any
Bilkins--No. He had a cold himself.
--N. Y. Weekly.
A Tale of Several Cities
"'Let's go out and see them play batse
ball this afternoon."
"I don't known anything about the
"0. that's all right. You'll bie in
good company. Neither does the homa
CRITICISM AS LUXURY.
Chronto FaIt-llnders Who Find Their
Prime Pleasure in Maklng some One
"There is, once in awhile, a person,"
said a veteran journalist, who is a
keen student of human nature, "whose
highest idea of pleasure is to find fault.
There are people of whom it is said
that they are never happy unless they
are miserable; but this class seem never
to be happy unless they are making
some one unhappy or trying in some
way to cause irritation and discomfort.
If by any hook or crook they can find a
peg in somebody's words or conduct
upon which they can hang an objec
tion, it is, metaphorically, peaches and
cream for them. They are industrious
in seeking for such occasions, and
when once found, they buzz about
them like a fly around a sugar-bowl.
That their criticisms are often im
pertinent, and much more often ill
timed, is a matter that seems to
trouble them not a whit. Indeed, one
might fancy that this was precisely
what they were aiming at. Many of
their outbreaks are provoked by new
ideas. or, what is quite to the same
purpose. things they never happened
to hear of. This latter reason is to
them, ample provocation for fault
finding. New ideas are all right if
they originate them, but woe be to
the unfortunate persons who suggest
something different without their ap
"There are few forms of impertinent
meddling more annoying than that
which breaks out into unreasoning
criticism of acts and ideas that are na
little out of the common. The plea
that certain things are not right be
cause they have not been is the plea of
ignorance and narrow-mindedness
Many years ago a man in the prime of
life sat upon the steps of the cap
itol building at Washington and wept
bitter tears because he was called a
fool,a crank and a lunatic for insisting
that messages could be sent from one
part of the country to another over an
electric wire. To-day the name of
Morse stands high on the roll of the
world's greatest benefactors. The
principal reasons given for disbelief in
his theory were that such things had
never been heard of, and consequently
had no claim to recognition. If Morse
and the world's great inventive brigade
had been extinguished by the narrow
minded criticism of those who 'never
heard of it' the world would to-day lack
many of its comforts and luxuries. The
'never-heard-of-its' are ever with us,
but we must bear with them as best we
can, for they are likely to remain with
us, world without end."-N. Y. Led ger.
PASSION OF PANIC.
SMore Harm from Mlen Losing Their Heads
Than from Actual Conditions.
In times of financial or commercial
demoralization above all others impos
sible is a fair and cool estimate of the
deranged conditions. I'nreasoning dis
trust and unmitigated selfishness con
trol the situation. Every unfavorable
factor is magnified and every favorable
one is minified. lMen of heretofore
sober and courageous judgment fall a
prey to their fears; men of impulse be
come virtual maniacs, lured by will-o'
the-wisps and horrified by nightmare.
The danger of a crisis never arises from
the actual conditions one-half so much
as from men of affairs losing their
heads. Because a small number of in
solvent m crchants or speculators have
run the length of their rope and must
forthwith settle up-therefore every
body ceases to trust any body and
rushes to claim his own; which means
a general winding up of credits and
more or less suspension of business
throughout the community.
Nobody would pretend to character
ize all this sort of a thing as anything
short of a species of insanity: and yet,
in spite of this consciousness of the ut
ter irrationality of panic, no one seemsr
capable of rational self-control. The
explanation of this anomaly seemns to
be that the instincts to which men sur
render themselves in these periods be
come insanities when allowed unfet
tered action. Fear and selfish
ness have a valuable function
when kept within due limits:
but unrestrained they become most
dangerous stimuli of social disorgani
zation. The two interact upon each
other and mutually inflame pne anoth
er. The fear of loss incites the selfish
desire to collect one's own, no matter
who may have borrowed it nor what
the borrower may suffer from its with
drawal. In turn, the effect of this vio
lent process of compelling liquidation
is to intensify fear through the conse
quent disorganization of credit.
A worse pair of passions could not
be let loose upon society: nevertheless,
they are distinctive passions of panic.
It is hopeless to seek to control these
destructive forces in any other way
than through avoiding the incitements
calculated to bring them into activity.
Vhen we come to understand how much
the natural adjustment of disordered
conditions is hindered by the artificial
regulations introduced by legislation,
we shall have taken a long step to
wards mitigating the virulence of
panics. The restrictions of- bank re
serve laws are the principal hindrances
to an easy and natural adjustment and
become the chief excitants to the feel
ings that run riot. When those re
straints are ignored fear abates and
remedy sets in. Regulations that,
when enforced, become scarecrow,
panic breeders do not regulate, but dis
integrate.-N. Y. Journal of Commerce.
Welighing the OGaests.
At Sandringhamn the prince of 1Vales
has established the custom of weighing
the coming and parting guests. At the
first convenient qpportunity, after
being shown to his bedroom, the guest
is weighed, the entry made in a book,
and he is weighed again on thie morn
ing of his departure. The book in
which the record is kept is a bulky vol
ume. Among other signatures is that
of ''"Salisbury," with the portentious
annoneceme-t following that on his
last visit to Sandringhlam the prenmieur
weighed over eighteen stone. -Chicago
PITH AND POINT.
-The man who loses most is the 'one
who tries to keep all he gets.-Ram'a
-Contentment is the feeling that you
are better off than your neighbor.
--Contentment is better than riches,*
but takes about the same amount of
money for one as the other.-Inter
--Misfortunes.-Kate-"She fell in
love and married him." Ilattic-"Mi.n
fortunes never come singly."''-Detroit
-During the preserving season the
housewife realizes that one essential of
the occupation is to preserve her equa
-If you want to please an ordinary
man call him good-looking; if you want
to please a very homely man call him
handsome. -Boston Transcript.
-Talking about the enjoyment of
riches, the boy with fifty cents in his
pocket when the circus comes to town
can give points to the millionaire.
-Papa-"Do you say grace at the
seminary?" Product of Modern Educa
tion-"Certainly. I never heard of
more than one pronunciation."-Truth.
-It is interesting to see how sorry
the man who went to the country for
a vacation and the man who staid at
home are for each other.-WVashington
-The cobbler who posts a sign,
"Shoes mended while you wait." caste
an involuntary reflectiop on the pros
perity of all his customers.-Somerville
---1 iss Whacker-"Do you consider it
a sign of weakness in man to weep, 'Mr.
Factor?" AMr. Factor-"That depends
upon who is playing the piano."
Cleveland Plain Dealer.
-Johnny-"Do you own a circus all
of your own?" Mr. Slimpurse-"No.
Why?" "Sister said she didn't believe
you could keep the wolf from the door
for a week."-Inter-Ocean.
-"They call love the tender passion,"
said the young man who had just ac
quired another sister, "but it strikes
me that it is about as tough as possi
--When a man dies they call it heart
failure. When a newspaper dies they
say it is busted, though in both cases
it is the want of circulation that caused
the death.-Dansville Breeze.
-"'We hear a great deal about the
seven ages of mnan, but no one ever al
ludes to the seven ages of woman
what is the reason?" "Gallantry, my
boy, gallantry."--Boston Gazette.
-An Opportunity.-He-"I suppose
Chicago girls all wanted to marry the
duke of 'ara gua?" She-"WVell-er
he's married already." He--"That's
nothing, he was in Chicago,wasn't he?"
The sluggard declined to go
To the ant: because. as he said.
The ant isan't in it at all. you know
He'd go to the uncle. instead.
-Detroit Free Press.
-Lord D'nasse--"You have no mar
riage settlements in this state. I hear?"
Miss Harcourt-"No,butwe havesome
thing far better." Lord D'Masse-"A~v
-what?" Miss Harcourt-"Alimony."
-New Reporter-"You cut my col
umn article on drinking water to half
a dozen lines. What was the reason?"
City Editor-"Thought you wanted it
that way." New Reporter--"The dick
ens you did' Why?" City Editor
You had it headed "Boil Before Us
ing." I boiled it all I knew how and
still you kick."--Buffalo Courier.
THE DELICIOUS PEACH.
Few People Know Blow to Serve It as It
Should he Served.
"There are but few people who know
how to serve peaches and cream in a
manner worthy of that luscious tlux
ury," observed a lady the other evening
at a restaurant where the fruit had
been placed before her in an altogether
unattractive style. "Let me tell you."
she continued, "how to present the
fruit in a manner fit for the gods. To
begin with. take two or three large
freestone peaches, yellow ones. fairand
smooth, for each guest whomn you ex
pect to serve. Place them in a vessel
andl pour very hot water upon them
until they are entirely covered. Let
them remain in the scalding water for
a half or three-quarters of a minute
and then pour a covering of cold water
upon them and add a lump of ice as
large as a cocoanut.
"After they have stood in the cooling
bath ten or fifteen minutes lift them
out one by one and remove the skin,
which can be done with surprising ease
by starting it with a knife and pulling
it gently with the fingers, as one does
in peeling tomatoes after similar
treatment. The only difference is that
the skin comes off peaches more easily
than it does off tomatoes. When the
skins are removed put the peaches into
a large earthen dish, being careful to
pile them on top of one another as lit
tle as possible, and place the vessel in
the refrigerator. Ten minutes before
it is time to serve them lift them care
fully, one at a time, into a large cut
glass dish-a salad bowl will answer
capitally-and cover them over with
finely-chopped ice. At the table the
hostess is to serve them in flat plates-
not in small, deep dishes-and for each
person there must be a fork and a
small fruit knife, with which the pits
can be removed easily and without any
'mussiness' Served in this way and
with fine sugar and a cut-glass pitcher
filled with rich, golden cream, a dish
of peaches becomesa beautiful,luscious,
melting dream. Over such a dainty one
may reverently thank nature for pal
ates and Heaven for peaches."-Y. Y
First Boy-I don't think much of
those workin'men's uniolg
Second Boy--Why not?
First Boy-Th' house and sign paint
ers had a big meetin' yesterday, an'
passed a hull lot of resolutions, an'
they didn't once resolve not to paint
any more "Keep Of The Ora~"' ilgnsl.-.