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The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, August 17, 1890, Image 15

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An American's Impressions of
That Lovely Spot, the
Valley or the Nith.
Recollections of the Manner in Which
Burns, the Exciseman, Performed
His Duties— Meeting the Grand
• daughter and Great - Grand
daughter of the Poet — The
Cheery, Handsome, White-Haired
Hostess of an Evening.
Special to The Sixdat Call.:. ' # /■.
Iyi^NNAN, Scotland, July IS, 1890.—Com
■j£|-g plete as is the identification of tbe
I\V» man Burns with place, scene and
memorial in old Dumfries town, there is a
far more pleasant association to be found
between Burns the poet-farmer, Bums the
poet-farmer-exciseman, Burns the poet-ex
ciseman, and the lovely valley of lhe Nith.
Burns' boyhood is a legacy to the winding
Doou, in Ayr. The activities of his man
hood are a heritage to the Nith, and the
dale or vale through which it mace* its
songful way to the Solway and tha sea.
The etymology of its name is Gaelic,
as is true of nine-tenths of the
names of natural features of the coun
try, and of the cities, towns and villages
of to-day in Scotland as well as in
Ireland. Ncitlie was the Gaelic water-god,
hence Neith and Nith: and a more lovely
stream could not have beeu found in Scot
land for honoring or being honored by the
name. Coming from its crystal cradle
among the mountains of Eastern Ayrshire,
it wimples along in a southeasterly course,
watering the Royal Burgh of Sanquhar and
the ducal Tillage of Tliornlnll, thence pa-s
--ing the stupendous mass of Drumlanrig
Castle, which looks down upon the plain
with its innumerable windows "like a great
presiding idol, the embodied genius of feud
alism." Near this the sister stream and dale
if the Clyde are reached by the lofty pass of
Enterkin. Farther to the south the border
ing mountain ranges press the Nith closely
a-r Anldgirth Bridge, and then its vale broad
ens, giving place for myriads of exquisite
burns, braes and lesser dales. Soon the
.MI IT," after passing Ellisland, tbo lovely
farm-house nf Burns, is joined by the llu
den water — wbich, at Irongray, but four
miles to the westward, murmurs past the
grave of Helen Walker, whom Scott immor
talized as "Jennie Deans"— beneath the
shadows of Lincluden Abbey ruins, when
now, broad and melodious over glittering
shallows, or slowly moving over quiet
depths, the river sweeps under the red
bridge-arches df Dumfries, and for eight'
miles to the Solway Firth flows stately on
through a shining and spacious plain like
that of Lombardy in miniature.
There is not in this fair domain a cas
tle, a gentleman's seat, a manse, a farm
house, a cabin, or an old roadside inn, that
existed in Burns' time, which does not pre
serve some relic of the poet, or some memo
ry of his actual presence. The rich and
great regard these as their most priceless
heirlooms. but the tenderness with which
the lowly preserve
Of what Burns did, or said, or of some acci
dental meeting or kindly visit, possesses
the deepest significance. He was essen
tially of the lowly. He was ever ill at
ease among the gentry and nobility. His
great, generous heart was keenly 41 ive
to the humble folk about him; and
even, as gauger, the most dreaded and
hated capacity in which law ever took
form, in the eyes of the Scotch of that
day, and of the Irish of a no remote
time, there was a Hove for Burns through
the valley countryside that knew no
■ .luJftr.^Ww^iiu bu bis liuue.', Pegasus
and Peg Nicholson, 200 miles each week In
connection with his duties as exciseman;
and, it is told with pride, be knew by name
every man, woman and child in all Nitlis
dale. Their heart* all went out to the man,
for had be not lived as they lived; had he
not known the things they knew ; joyed and
suffered in all the bumble things in which
they had joyed and suffered; and were not
lift songs the rhythm, rhyme and soul of
. their 'own vague hungering*. No one who
will come among this peasantry to-day,
loitering here and there where be lingered,
need go to the books for tender things about
Burns. These people all have them in the
very core of their hearts and, with glowing
faces, at their tongues' end, wherever your
wanderings may lead.
At this farmhouse you will learn of unre
corded kindness, at tbe next of some pleas
ant incident, at another of some odd adven
ture ; now of perhaps a forgivable royster
ing, then of some blessed help in time of
seed; again of festivity of which he was
the life, and here again ol prayer. Prayer
from Burns? Yes, prayer with the living
and at the couch of the dead; among those
so lowly that somehow those spiritual ex
cisemen " who delighted to league the poet
exciseman witb "Auld Hornie" had no
time from their "higher" parochial duties
to minister there. And it does one good to
hear these whose fathers before them treas
ured his memory tell scores of tales like
these of Burns' own tenderness: How the
poet-gauger, ever leaning to the side of
mercy, once came to "auld Kate Watson" of
Thornhill, in the* publican's trade for a
fair-day without a license, and when it was
his sworn official duty to confiscate ber
goods and land her in jail, be only said to
her with a meaning wink, " Kate, are ye
mad? Don't ye know that the Supervisor
and I will be in on ye in the course of forty
minutes? Good-by t'ye at present." How
at the Kirkpatrick-Durham fair, where he
came upon another brewing, and, having
asked fiercely of the inmates of the cabin
if sucb had been going on, a servant can
nily replied, "We liae na license for that,"
whereupon a wee lassie innocently con
fessed that "the muckle black kist (chest)
is fu' o' the bottles o' yill (alb) that mither
sat a' up nieht brewin' for the fair!" when
Burns instantly eyed a bird hanging in a
cage above the child's head, and said: "If
that bird speaks there's no use of another
sneaking bird in this bouse while that
lassie's to the fore"; and
Witb the remark: "We're in a hurry now;
but when we return from the fair we'll ex
. amine iho murklc black kist!" How when
lie had caught "auld widow Jenny" of
Dunscore in possession of a large stock of
smuggled tobacco, and, from public knowl
edge of the case, was compelled to make a
seizure, he did it in this extraordinary fash
lon. "Jenny," said Burns gravely, "I
knew this would be the upshot." Then to
Lewars, l is assistant, " Here, Lewars, take
note of the number of rolls, as I count them.
Now, Jock, did ye ever hear an auld wife
numbering her threads before check-reels
were invented? 'Thou's ane, an' thous
no ane, an' thon's ane listen!'" As
lie counted and banded out the rolls, every
-other one was dropped into "auld widow
Jenny's" lap.
And so in a larger sense, because Burns
came into a loving familiarity with every
tiling, object or place which he gave lasting
life from the devotion of his poetic genius,
or made as it were a part of himself by its
mention' la his rare and winsome letters to
bis literary friends, those who wander here
feel almost the thrill of a personal compan
ionship with not only the past but the man.
The Solway Firth, when the .tide is in or
out, is a magical arm of the sea because the
exciseman Burns bravely captured smug
glers upon it, and because its mere name
ebbs and flows through the measure of his .
verse. Mist-crowned Criffel looming above
is now a landmark in literature as well as
in topography, and since Burns' time has
had the attention of a Longfellow, a Words
worth, a Buskin and a Carlyle, because of
just two lines be penned:
The Mtli shall ran to Cursincou,
And Criffel sink to Solway —
Before a foreign foe sbould be permitted to
rally on British ground. One has not a
hundredth part the interestin that finest ec
clesiastical ruin iv the south of Scotland,
' Sweetheart Abbey, which stands by Nitlis
mouth, at Criffel's feet, or in that older ma-'
jestic ruin, Carlaveruek Castle, unquestion
- ably the choicest specimen of castellated
architecture in the whole of Scotland, as in
old Brow Well, not two miles from the lat
ter, where Burns made his last stand against
death only to be borne home to the Mill
street cottage in Dumfries to die. And this
Brow Well has been singularly overlooked
by lovers of Buru3 visiting Nithsdale. It ,'
is distant but an eight miles' tramp south'
from Dumfries, on the Ruthwell road. . It .
is locally called "The Broo" (Brow), and I
lies at the brow of the Locher Moss, a few
hundred feet back from the Solway tide
edge. An ancient "clachan" or prehistoric
stone circle once stood near, and the half- ■
dozeu stone houses of the neighborhood
have taken the name of "the auld clachan
o' the Broo." These houses, as in Burns'
time,, are rude structures,' merely hinds'
H-HEMSc-, -liliiVirilflM raaw iiwi— laMpufMi eiriii c T
houses. The road to Bulb well, which is but
a mile or so distant, winds past the place
and a little delving into antiquities makes
curious and not altogether improbable
Bath being English for the Gaelic Ituadh, :
red, was the name for the locality original
ly comprising that village, the Bed-Well
itself and the clachan or stone circle for the
celebration of pagan rites and ceremonials.
For Brow Well, ol wbose waters Burns for
months vainly partook, is truly a red well,
being strongly impregnated with iron. Tra
dition, too, places Brow Well among those
possessing miraculous powers. Stepping a
few feet from the roadside toward the Sol
way there is found a deep pit open to the
Firth at the south. In the center of this is
the well, square, but a few inches deep, and
perhaps five feet across— altogether more
a stone basin than a well, to which three
stone steps descend. The water filling it
trickles . through a spout from the base
of the bank "brow" above; aud its over
flow forms a tiny barn which, „ whir.iplisg
and broadening In Its descent, is re-enforced
by other half-hidden rills from Locher
Moss, until it cuts a clear and distinct way
through the reddish gray sands of the Sol
way. In this dreary place Burns remained,
takiug the waters of "The Brit"," from the
middle of April until the middle of July,
1796. His only companions were his
thoughts and his "worn pocket-Bible." His
eyes could rest upon ' but one seene —
roaring or sobbing Solway aud the darken
ing range of the English hills on the Cum
berland side of the Firth. llememberini: It
ail, that is one line of English shore whose
mystic mists to my eyes seem endlessly
fraught with a tinge ot dolor and sadness.
Ear pleasanter associations and memories
than those ol Brow Well cluster about liie
upper Nithsdale region. Here, not two
miles from Dumfries, is that lovely Ivy
grown ruin, Lincluden Abbey, at the con
fluence of Cludeu water auu the Nith. .lust
beyond, to the east, is Baiswinlon Hall,
where lived the generous and ingenious
Patrick Miller, notohle not only for bis
cunnection with the earliest experiments in
steam navigation but as the biz-hearted
owner of Ellisland, the farm Burns took
when fresh from his laurels at Edinburgh.
This little Bitot a farm, now comprising 135
acres of land, lies to the west of the
Nith, upon its very banks, about five
miles north of Dumfries; and it is here
that Burns, after buildiug the cottage which
to this day stands embedded iv roses
and ivy brought his bonnie Jean to live
with her the only happy days he ever knew.
1 never saw quite so songful and idyllic a
sppt— songful in every field and copse bird
that border Scotland knows, and wonder
fully songful in the waters of the Nith,
which, between banks white with daisies,
bordered closer down with yellow broom,
spreads wide across gleaming shallows, as if
its mission here was to .-ing endless and ten
der melodies in honor of the spot where the
inspired plowman sang in his clearest,
purest, grandest strains. For here in this
lur'ii-huiise were produced, among scores of
lesser poems, " Tarn o' Shanter," written in
a day, and denominated by Alexander Sitith
*' Since Bruce fought Banuocklturn, the best
single day's work done in Scotland."
" The Song of Death, " his wonderful
satire, " The Kirk's Alarm," his match
less embodiment of connubial affection,
"John Anderson, My Jo," "0 Blaw Ye
Wrfstlin Winds," his "Address to the
Nith," "Ou Seeing a Wounded Hare,"
that grand '" Address to the Shade of
Thomson," "Of a' the Airts the Winds
Can Blaw," and that alviuest of all his
odes, " To My Mary in Heaven."
Getting to this Ellisland farm brought
me, in a singular aud fortuitous way,
within the radius of certain associations
few have had the good fortune to enjoy,
As they link the living with thrilling
closeness and emphasis to the dead, a brief
account of this unusual experience will
have interest to all lovers of Burns in
America. At a late hour of a recent even
ing 1 was standing near the noble statue of
Burns, erected in 1877, in Church place,
Dumfries. Tbe only other occupant of
Church place at that lime was a venerable
Scotchman who, standing in the shadows of
the Greyfriars' Church, seemed, though in
merely an idle curiosity on his part, as in
tently regarding me as I had been studying
the statue. 1 finally made bold to approach
him with a request for information regard
ing the road 1 should take to Ellisland, at
the same time expressing my intention of
visiting it on the morrow. The chance
meeting was a pleasant one; and on dis
covering that the gentleman, Mr. Thomas
Brown of Queensbury street, was quite at
leisure for the next day. I invited bim to
join me on the excursion, to which he
heartily acceded, and the day was a
glorious one en account of his Intelligent
company ; for his perfect familiarity with de
tails of the life aud experiences of the poet,
at which 1 then wondered, though attrib
uting the same to the universal treasuring
of Burns-lore by the people of Nithsdale,
was a source ol the greatest delight. The
companionship resulted in a return invita
tion to visit my new-found friend's family
on the same evening of the Ellisland jour
ney. On presenting myself at his dour, I
was admitted by a young lady whose face
and presence startled me as completely as
though Kobert Burns had himself greeted
me at tbe threshold oi that welcoming hab
itation. There stood a fair young woman,
in whose face was repeated every lineament
of the poet's. Her hair was raven black;
her brows were broad and high; the eyes
like flaming orbs; the nose perfectly chis
eled; the mouth large, impassioned, tender,
and the chin full, rounded and dimpled, It
was indeed Burns' face, chastened and soft
ened by the pure soul of a woman looking
through it.
Completely overcome by the extraordi
naiv likeness and situation, I could scarcely
use my tongue, but at last faltered:
"Is— this the residence of Mr. Thomas
Brown, with whom an American gentleman
has an engagement for the evening?"
"It is"; the young lady smilingly an
swered. "Father and mother are expecting
"And you are ?"— g's...- .-•.-.
"Their daughter, Jean Armour Burns
lt was to the home of _
And great-granddaughter of Robertßurns
I had come. The cheery, handsome, white
haired hostess of the evening, Mrs. Thomas
Brown, a lady 00 years of age. who sang
lor us, "Of a' the airts the wind can blaw,"
with extreme pathos and feeling, is the sur
viving daughter of Kobert Burns Jr., the
poet's oldest son, who died here in Dum
fries in 18.17. at the age of 70 years. His
early education was chiefly the charge of
Burns himself, and with him, hand in hand,
he wandered again and again in every loved
haunt of .Nithsdale from Criffel on the Sol
way to Friar's Curse, above Ellisland. A
page of this paper could be delightfully
tilled with me experiences ol that eveninz
and of later hours, in this plain and
pleasant horne — itself a museum and
shrine of Burns' memorial, relic and senti
ment. But aside from these and the mar
velous reproduction of figure, face and
radiant speech of eyes and look of the poet
iv his great-granddaughter, Jean Armour
Burns Brown, two things came to me, with
conviction which cannot be shaken, and
which I would set down to remain, with
earnest and solemn emphasis.
The first is, that lioDert Burns Jr. was a
man of extraordinary intellect, attainments
and character, He was an attache of the
British Stamp Office, in London, for thirty
ye_rs, during which period, and to the day
of his death, as I have evidence, lie was one
of tbe profoundest thinkers and scholars of
his time. Ano more learned.scholar lived ;
and Carlyle himself was not his superior in
depth of" philosophical research. United
with these were qualities of heart and char
acter which were grandly pure and sweet;
while bidden and restrained by a loyalty to
his father's name and fame, to discern
which gives one a glimpse of what true he
roism means, was, as 1 also have evidence,
a gift of the loftiest poetic power. With
this new light upon father and son I caunot
contemplate the one's extreme attachment
to the other without feeling that a bond,
perhaps unconscious, but still might}-,
aside from tb: sacred filial tie, held the ma
tured and budding intellects so tenderly to
The other thing I would say from convic
tion is this: Jean Armour was a woman of
loftier soul than has ever yet been depicted.
Burns' genius was inimitably too great to
require unworthy contrast to render it more
surpassingly transcendent Carlyle's defini
tion of the function of woman— "to wed a
man she can love and esteem, and to lead
noiselessly under his protection, with all the
wisdom, grace and heroism that is in her,
the life prescribed -in consequence" — was
illustrated supremely In the life of Jean Ar
mour, the wife of Kobert Burns, and her
unaffected tribute to his kingship of affec
tion in the poverty-scourged home they
both loved, in her own words, " He ne'er
spoke a misbehadden word to me in a' his
life," is as royal a tribute to his manly, -if
erring, nature, notwithstanding all . other
evidences of men and pen, as tlie.world can
ever bring to brighten the memory of his
Immortal poetic genius. .f'.-fPPy
'Copyright, 1890. : KitiinK if Wakkmak.
1 A Telegraphic Hull.
- The following is among the ; most ludi-
I crous of mistakes that have been made by
telegraph operators: , A young nun, when
I about to start for bis new parish, was un
expectedly detained by the incapacity of
his presbytery 1 1 ordain him. In order to
explain bis non-arrival -at the . appointed
time, he sent the following telegram to the
deacons of the church: "Presbytery lacked
a quorum to ordain." - In the course of ; its
journey the message got strangely meta
morphosed, and reached the astonished
deacons in this shape: "Presbytery tacked
a worm to Adam." The sober church offi
cers were sorely discomposed and mystified,
but after grave consultation concluded ,it
I was i the ' minister's facetious . way of an-
I nouncing that : he had got married, and ac
| cordingly proceeded to provide lodgings for
I two instead of oue. —
- ,
E. M. Brighnni Describes Some
Found in South America.
He Relates Thrilling Adventures Along the
Amazon— Traditions Silent Concerning
Those Buried in the Earthen Pots.
TCiiriß. E. M. BRIGHAM, a well-known
I jrle- traveler and explorer, recently de
l_V?iiV livercd a lecture in Chicago on " A
Great Burial Mound on the Island of
Marajo." According to the report of the
lecture as presented In tho Inter Ocean,
Mr. Brighatn made bis voyage in South
America vine years ago, and thoroughly ex
plored the Amazon Elver. The object of
his journey was the collection of speci
mens of natural history, and while en
gaged in this quest lie accidentally came
across a vast mound in the interior of the
Island of Marajo, and devoted several days
to a partial exploration of a part of the
mound. In his lecture Mr. Brigham did
not, however, confine himself to Marajo,
but as occasion required for purposes of
illustration or comparison be carried his
audience to many points along the great
De described the voyage from New York
to the mouth of the Para Biver, which
forms the southern mouth of the Amazon.
This enormous river drains an area of
more than 2,200,000 square miles, or over
1,000,000 square miles more than the area
drained by the Mississippi Kiver. Two
thousand miles from the mouth the river is a
mile wide, 600 miles from the mouth it is
twenty miles wide, and at the mouth It is 180
miles wide, In this enormous mouth is the
extraordinary island of Marajo. This Island
is very large, and is divided into two parts.
The northeastern portion of the island is
Incised ' ma
rather higher ground than the remaining
portion, and has the character of an undu
lating prairie, with here and there, scat
tered about on it, great clumps of trees.
The lower portion is a dense tangle of the
most luxuriant foliage. Tbe island is
sparsely inhabited by negroes, Indians,
whites "and hybrid compounds of all three.
On the prairie portion cattle are raised.
Various species of palms furnish edible
fruit, and monkeys, parrots and a species of
white alligator also form an important rait
of the sustenance of the inhabitants. »
During the rainy season, which lasts for
six months, great torrents of rain fall, and
between the rain and tbe rapidly rising
river the whole island is submerged to a
depth of many feet. The tops of the trees
in the scattered groves then become little
islands of verdure on the broad expanse of
water. Enormous quantities officiating
vegetation and parasitic ' orchidaceous
plants and vines become entangled in tbese
"islands," or from vast floating islands of
thousands of square yards of area. As a
provision against these annual floods all the
huts In which the people live are perched
high up on skeleton frameworks of poles.
The island is about twenty miles from
Para. Mr. Brigham graphically described
his canoe trip over this submerged island.
A large part of the journey was made
through a mass of tangied vegetation,
through which two Indians in the prow of
tlie thirty-foot canoe cut and slashed a pas
sage. As the waters had gradually risen
the vegetation was alive with nil
manner of venomous biting and
stinging ants, serpents and wasp', and
every slash tumbled thousands of the un
comfortable visitants into the canoe.
■ I :; " ■■
Burial urns.
Three days of this travel brought them
over the undulating prairie. Here a new
mode of progression was adopted. The In
dians, knowing the lay of the land, were
able to drive their cattle along the higher
crests of the undulations. So an ox was
caught and an Ingenious arrangement of
cords was plaited around the animal's tail
In such a manner that any attempt to pull
away only caused the plaited cylinder to
cling closer. The other end of the twisted
cords was attached to tbe canoe, and an In
dian, with a long pole, guided the wading
ox forward, hauling the canoe behind him.
After a week of this extraordinary travel
a long ridge of high, firm land, rising forty
feet or more above tho water, was reached.
A slight examination revealed that this
enormous mound, although heavily wooded,
was entirely artificial. Ten days were ex
pended in excavating a trench or hole about
sixteen feet in diameter and eighteen feet
The mound was overgrown with great
trees, and its upper layer was a pretty thick
stratum of alluvial and vegetable mould, In
which fragments of pottery were found.
Below this was a stratum of wet blue clay,
then a layer of white, kaolin-like clay, hard
as a stone almost and- perfectly dry, about
eighteen inches thick. Below this again
extended the blue clay. These three clay
stratas were full of vases nnd urns in
countless numbers, and in as close
contiguity as cells in a honeycomb. These
Their position In the mound.
urns and vases are of two distinctly differ
ent types. The commoner form is that of a
globular vase of heavy pottery, ornamented
with painted, conventionalized figures or
with scroll-work, and with attached, com
posite animal forms in high relief. These
urns are mortuary urns and contain human
bones. , ■ - :.
The other and rarer type is that of a cylin
drical vase ol bright red, polished, thin
pottery of fine texture, never painted, but
covered with an arabesque of geometrically
regular, figures, resembling ancient Per
sian incised : work. These vases are ' re
markably beautiful, and were, Mr. Brie
ham believes, not mortuary but secular in
their usefulness. ."-
Other interesting objects wpre ; found,
dishes, bowls, detached animal forms, and
three axes of polished diorlte. The mound
is called by those who live on the . island
the "Camutins," a native word meaning
"earthen pots." ' Tradition is utterly silent
respecting the people whose remains lie en
tombed in this strange burial place.
Hasty reference was made for compara
tive purposes ■ with ■ the - wall ■ burial aud
pottery:, of - Cuelap, :: a * series : of immense
circular stone towers on the crest of the
Andes ■■ Mountains. Mr. L Brigliain '' made a
number enf - suggestions, which, 'ha ; said,
future explorers of Marajo; might perhaps
be able to Investigate more deeply.'
Lurk Was tits Oilier \Xfxx_r. . P~
A ." biff ; man,,' with % brutal 1 features, who
looked as if he only , felt at r home in the
prize-ring, :. walked ': into a -downtown cafe
yesterday afternoon, says ■ the New York
Press,' and while making his wav to the bar
stumbled against a small, gentlemanly look
ing little man who stood talking to a friend.
The little man, in attempting to save him
self from a fall, stepped on the big man s
foot, and, : although he was not at fault,
said, "1 beg your pardon." -aflgHMMff ll
Ti.e big fellow looked him over from
head to fool for a moment, and then said:
"The devil yon do!" Then the true nature
of the little man made itself even more dis
cernible, for he turned his back upon the
loafer and continued his conversation with
his companion. This made the big fellow
mad. "Step on my foot again !" he ex
claimed, and he gave the little man ' a tug
by the shoulder which sent him spinning
around face to face. In tne twinkling of
an eye the heel of the little man's boot de
scended upon the toes of the fellow's foot,
It went straight and meant business.
The brutal face was for a moment con
vulsed with pain, and the Dig fellow, after
holding his foot . for a moment, advanced
toward the little man with a desperate
look. A dozen men who had witnessed the
entire scene sprang forward and the ruffian
chanced his mind. He limped toward the
door and just before it closed behind him
he shouted in his rage, "It's lucky for you
I aim got my uniform ou to-day or I'd run
you iv." But luck was the other way aud
ho did not know it.
How Jenny Lind .Yon tbe Friend
ship of a Professional Bival.
Somewhere in the forties Griil and Jenny
Lind were singing in different places in
London. Those who went into ecstacles
over Grisi's "Norma" were the next even
ing enraptured with Lind's "Casta Diva."
Great was the rivalry between tliem.
Finally Queen Victoria deemed it a shame
that such gifted women should be separated
by a mean, unworthy jealousy, requested
both to appear at a court concert. Of
course they both came. The Queen warm
ly welcomed tnem together for the first
time. Sbe gave the signal for the concert
to begin. *
Jenny Lind was the younger, and it was
arranged that she should sing first. With
perfect confidence in her powers she stepped
forward to begin. Chancing to glance at
Grisi she saw the southern woman's malig
nant . gaze fixed on her. The fierce lock
almost paralyzed her.
Her courage left her, her voice trembled,
everything grew black before her and she
almost fell. By the greatest exertion of her
will, however, she managed to finish her
aria. A painful silence followed its conclu
sion—a silence that told of her failure.
She caught a triumphant expression on
Grisi's face.
Despite her dazed condition she quickly
realized that failure meant lost glory, dis
appointed hope, the destruction of happi
ness, grief and mortification to her family
and her friends. Suddenly a soft voice
that seemed to come from heaven whis
pered to her: "Sing one of your old songs
in your native language."
- She caught at the thought like an inspira
tion. The accompanist was striking his
final chords. She stepped up to him, asked
him to rise and took the vacant seat. Softly
her fingers wandered over the keys in a
loving prelude, then she sang, It was a
little prayer which she had loved as a child;
it belonged to her mother's repertory. Sbe
had not sung it lor years. As she sang she
was uo longer In the presence of royalty,
but singing to loving friends in her father
No one present understood one word of
the prayer." Gradually the soug died
away and ended in a soft sob.
Again there was a siience — silence of
admiring wonder. The audience sat spell
bound. Jenny Lind lii ted at last her sweet
blue eyes to look into the scornful face that
had so disconcerted her at first There was
no fierce expression vow; instead a tear
drop glistened on the long black lashes.
After a moment, with tne impulsiveness
of a child of the tropics, Grisi crossed to
Jenny Kind's side, i laced her arm about
her and kissed her warmly, utterly regard
less of the admiring audience.— Omaha Bee.
one lll. in -, Small I'ay and a Hard Lot
for Many of 'lhem.
The total yearly expenditure of the Metro
politan police is over a million and a half
sterling, of which £572,000 is paid by the
Government toward the cost of pay and
clothing. A local rate of just under 5d in
the pound produced £780,000. Per man,
a constable cost £IC6 per annum, of which
£78 ltd is disbursed in pay, £10 la superan
nuation charge and £5 in clothing equip
ment. "On joining the force the policeman
Is supplied with two greatcoats, two tunics,
a cape, two pairs of trousers, two . pairs of
boots, two helmets, a truncheon, . armlets,
whistle, lantern-guard, belt, etc., which
articles are renewed periodically or* wben
worn out. lf a policeman's clothes -are
damaged in the course of duty the damage
is made good at the public expense. If they
are damaged carelessly or wear out too
quickly the constable Ens to pay. In the
city police, which have a reputation for
efficiency extending long previous to
the Peel days, the pay Is somewhat
higher, but no member of that force
lias a legal right to a pension, the pensions
being granted at the discretion of the cor
poration on the recommendation of the
Commissioner. The city constable has an
allowance lor boot money in addition to his
pay. The city men are, as a rule, a finer set
than the metropolitans, but the difference
will soon cease, as the standard for both
forces is now the same. There are differ
ences in uniform easily noticeable: the hel
mets differ; the city man has no letter, he
has yellccw buttons and his armlet is red
and white instead of blue and white. The
city force Is in charge of the corporation,
but like all the police of theskliigdom, mu
nicipal or couuty, it Is really under the final
control of the Home Secretary. It numbers
about nine hundred all told. The Metro
politan police are more directly. under the
control of the Home Secretary. Taking
no account of outposts, the field of work ex
tends for fifteen miles round Charing Cross,
exclusive of the city of London, and em
braces a mileage of streets and road- of over
>• .".mi mile- and an area of over 088 square
miles, extending from Colony Heath iv tlie
north to Tod worth Heath in the south, and
(rom Lark Hail in the east to Staines Moor
lv the west. To keep the peace in this
territory about 12,500 men are available,
from which a fourteenth have to be de
ducted owing to each man having a holiday
of a day In every fortnight. And from this
balance the men off duty must be . taken to
discover the small number by which the
work is done. From 6in the morning to 10
at night there ate really not 5000 men at
work, being rather more than seven men
to every square mile. No wonder it
is not easy to find a policeman !
But tho ' remedy is obvious — either
the mileage should be diminished or
the men increased. Mr. Monro says that
about CO per cent of the force is on duty
from 10 at night to C o'clock next morning;
but during the day the ordinary beat duty
of the whole of the metropolis devolves
upon some 1861 men. In addition to these
numbers, however. • 522 constables on
•" fixed points" and eighty-eight at hackney
carriage standings are on duty In the streets
from a o'clock In the morning to 1 o'clock
in the afternoon. Tho young constable's
duty begins with attending '- a police
court and watching the evidence under
tlie - instruction of .an older . com
rade, who directs his attention to
the points worth notice. Attcr a school
ing in this way in police-court practice, he
foes on beat duty, also with a companion,
'hen he is trusted alone, probably on easy
night duty, and as he gains experience he
is moved to busier beats. When on day
duty, between 6 a. m. and 10 p. M., he lias
alterations :of four hours , on - duty and
four hours off. Of . this he - has a
montb, followed by two months of night
duty. m When on night duty he has to work
without relief from 10 to 0. : Another month
of day duty begins another round. Such
are the normal working hours of a London
policeman.— Leisure Hour.
: c» '.'
A Very Old Hos* Tree. LL" 7
A standard rose, said to have been planted
by Charlemagne, is one of the greatest curi
osities of the ancient city of Hildesheim in
Hanover. This rose bush is gnarled and
rugged, as; becomes its extreme age; and,
in some places, the principal stem is about
as thick as a man's body. . It grows at the
eastern side of the apse of the cathedral,
and this year the venerable I and venerated
object has put forth several new and thrifty
shoots. i Fears have been entertained for a
long time past that, aftei its life of a thou
sand years, tho plant was losing its vitality.
But now it is apparently taking a new lease
of life, and there Is much, rejoiclur* In Hil
desbeiiu at the fact. The person wuo takes
charge of the ancient rose - bush Is . in
structed never to give away a cutting, and
its flowers, which are pronounced • the very
sweetest of their kind, are also jealously
guarded from vandal hands. ":■.-:
"L - -A Man of Ills Word. ' !
Gilbooly and Gusde Smith were strolling
carelessly past a saloon. After -they had
I sell twenty steps beyond the saloon Gui
de Smith stopped and said: 1 ... »•'••••• -■ ■
* "Let us go back and wet our whistles." ."'
--: " 1 thought you promised ; your wife not
to take a drink!'" replied Gilhooly. '.---'
" No, I didn't make any such; fool prom
ise ns that. -What I did promise was that
when I came to a saloon I would go past it,
and I- have kept my i promise: like a IRtla
man. I have passed the saloon, as I said I
would. c Now, let us turn around and get a
drink (as i a reward for having ; ken ', my
promise."— Texas Sittings,'* ''^^||§|S'
>L _ - ■»- - . . . ._ ..
" Wonderful. Gnrdens That Aro at
the Bottom of; the Seas.
Polyp Mountain- Builders, Who Ssep ; the
Waters of the Oceans Purs by Storing
Away Zxoss.iiva Lime Salts.
• - -- .. .-...
--■ •- '■■ ■ ■ - :*!.: ; *V" ■'."
•^ffS^HE coral groves of the ocean floor are
*I^ decorated like the gardens of the •
Jel/* land, the flower-like polyps answer
ing to our pinks and daisies, violets and
lilies. Some of them aro of the brightest
and ' softest tints, pink, . pearl color and
blue, green, purple and yellow. They strew
the bottom, which is of the whitest and
purest sand, or bang like leaves and flow- 7
ers, ■ or cling like mosses and lichens to tho
branching coral and lend rare enchantment
to the ~^p|rrTin]i!|ffl9fr)*|inJ lpl lß'MlßJWUJlffl
Is not this an interesting description of a
wonderful garden? asks a writer for the
Philadelphia B-cord.
How delightful it would be to visit one
and see its beauties with our own eyes. -
Let us fancy ourselves sailing over the
tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean. As
we gaze out over the broad expanse a circu
lar island, covered with vegetation and en
circling a lagoon— a body jof water, pure,
clear, and from 100 to 400 feet in depth,
comes into view. Through a break in one
side of this island our ship glides into a
safe harbor. Here. the waters are calm,
while outside the waves may De lashed Into'
fury by wind or storm.
Looking down into the lagoon, in whose
depths our vessel is mirrored, we catch a
glimpse of fairyland— a garden of delicate,
branched corals, tipped with tinted flower
like polyps. -
Polyp is the name applied to a little coral
animal which so closely resembles a flower
in form and coloring, that, for many years,
scientific men were unable to decide to
whicii kingdom it rightly belonged— the ani
mal or the vegetable.
The polyp has often been compared to tbe
aster. This garden flower has a delicately
colored center surrounded by single or dou
ble rows of petals, and is supported on a
slender stem. So In the polyp, or animal
flower, there is a tinted disk, about which is
a fringe of petal-like
Below this disk, In place of a stem, is the
body containing the internal organs of the
tiny . animal. Here the resemblance be
tween tbe flower animal and the flower
garden ceases,' for closely examining the
disk of the poly p we find in the middle of it
a slit. This is the mouth of the coral ani
mal. It opens directly into the stomach,
which bangs in the middle of the body.
The food, which is caught by the tentacles,
passes through the mouth into the stomach,
in which it is digested with the aid of sail
This harmless-looking little animal is the
owner of myriads of weapons, which lie
snugly hidden from sight till time of need,
in what Agassiz calls "lasso cells." These
cells are very tiny, being less than 1-200 of
an inch in diameter, but each cell contains
a tubular thi cad coiled up, ready to be
darted forth when its prey is near. Woe to
the little creatures that ccme in contact with
this weapon. They are instantly benumbed,
aud arc then drawn into the mouth by the
On leaving Its cell the hollow thread turns
inside out, the end containing the poison
appearing last
As the coil cannot return to its sheath the
"lasso cell" is then worthless, but this is a
matter of small consequence, as tho polyp
is well armed with these effective weapons
about Its mouth, stomach and tentacles.
About the walls of the stomach are num
berless eggs. When one of these is hatched
a minute animal, soft, like jelly, floats into
the water and soon fastens itself to a rock.
There it clings, growing into the form al
ready described.
From its sides other polyps spring into
life like buds on the stems of a plant. This
way of propo^ating is called "budding."
These polyps iv turn multiply by eggs and
buds, forming a colony in which each polyp
Is joined by a flesh membrane to Its neigh
. As the polyp grows, a mysterious change
takes place in its body. By a process called
secretion, carbonate of lime— an element of
sea water— is deposited first at the base of
the polyp, theu throughout its body till it
' becomes a solid coral skeleton, the only liv- .
ing parts being the mouth, stomach and
tentacles. Tha fleshy membrane likewise
secretes limestone, and with the skeletons
of the polyps forms
: An bour can be pleasantly and profitably
spent in visiting natural history rooms and
studying the rare and beautiful corals which
have been gathered together from all parts
of tbe world. f yf. ff. ■-...; y
One's attention will be attracted to a mass
of coral so deeply furrowed that it closely
resembles the human brain, and is appro
priately named the brain coral. It is found
in Bermuda and the West Indies. -. vi -
Near it is a fine specimen of organ coral.
In journeying to India by way of the Bed
Sea one exclaims at the red sand and the
red rocks covered with tiny stars. The
sand consists of fragments of coral rock,
and the coral itself is made up of slender
pipes bound together by bauds, forming a
deep red skeleton.
f The Sandwich Islands are the home of
the delicate piuk-branched coral, and from
the Bahamas we obtain a variety which is
quite common and very popular, because
when bleached It Is firm and white.
Tlie only one of the family of corals
which has a special commercial value Is the
precious red coral in shape like a trunk ofa
tree baying short stunted blanches.
The most important fisheries extend along
the Mediterranean Sea or the coast of
Morocco, Algiers and Tunis, though the
red specimens are also found near Naples
anil - Genoa. They are attached to rocks
embedded in mud at the bottom of the sea.
For commerce is novel and interesting. A
crew 'of seven or eight men sail out into
deep water, carrying with them a large
wooden cross, to which cords, nets and
hoops are fastened. The cross is sunk to
the bottom of the sea and becomes entangled
in the branches of coral, which break from
their foundations as the boat pulls away,
dragging Its burden after it. • •,., ,:
Often the united strength of several
crews is barely sufficient to detach the quan
tity of coral which is caught in the nets.
Alter the owner of the boat has taken a
certain percentage of the profits the remain
der Is divided among the crew.
The floor of the ocean, like the surface of
the earth, is diversified by mountains,': hills
and valleys. Myriads ages ago a moun
tain reared its head to within 100 feet of
the surface of the ocean. About its rocky
sides polyps fastened themselves and the
work of building a coral wall was begun.
But the floor of the ocean Is sometimes sub
ject to change, and in the very spot where
the mountain stood -it began to subside,
carrying with it the mountain and its fringe
of coral "»iltrr|>ni'|T»y iiTjuni^i^m jfttm 1 1 mj
It is known that coral animals cannot live
in water more than 180 feet deep and thrive
best at a depth of from 60 to 120 feet, yet
tbe foundations of reefs are laid many thou
sand feet down in the ocean.
All the life in a coral reef is at the sur
face, Below is only a solid mass of coral
skeletons. When the ocean bed settles the
coral reef grows upward again till it reaches
the level of the sea.
j As the waves beat against it great masses
of rock are broken off and hurled upon its
top. Driftwood and other. debris floating
thither, decay and form a soil. * Seeds are
wafted by the winds or are dropped by
birds in their flight, and under the warmth
of the tropical sun the coral reef is trans
formed into an island covered with lux
uriant vegetation.
It la the Oldest Newspaper In the World
end Is Fnll af Good Things.'-
The Peking Gazette, which : was estab
lished In the year 911 of tho ! Christian era,
has been regularly : published sinee ] 1351-
A. D., and is at the present time edited by
a committee of six members of the Acad
emy of Han Lin. Not only 13 it by far the,
oldest paper in the world, but it also is in-:
finitely more instructive and Interesting
than > all other . existing ' official gazettes :
taken together. To , the Li student s* of j
Oriental t statecraft -in particular i. the !
yellow volumes in which the gazettes,
translated into the English language.' are'
bound up and issued annually, should be of.
remarkable value. For here, in the formal
record of all the important oidlnances, l
: ceremonies, proceedings,' judgments, ' opin
lions and transaction* of the Chinese Gov
ernment, we can see partially unfolded the
working constitution of the greatest native
Asiatic empire and the oldest empire in the
world ; we cmi follow the movement of the
administrative wheels and obtain a glimpse
of the system upon which the machinery is:
constructed. ■
j-.--slt becomes thus -possible to form some
trustworthy conception of \ the principles l
■ that underlie: this vast organization—un
questioned authority; lofty ostentation of
public morality; the affectation of profound
■reverence 'for - churches, * ritual*) and all
*tliiM«s pertaining to divinity; deep respect
for , radltlon and unci' trai usage coupled '-.
' with (steady encouragement 01 classic learn
irg; entire religious toleration conjoined
fe'4:' ; ■'- .-.'■'-■'• .'«:-' : y',A--'-f-f
■■-■:■ I
with the peremptory assertion of civil su
premacy; provincial home rule controlled,
at least in form, by a vigilant and despotic
central executive;^ short, the continuous
experience of many ages < applied to the
management by a foreign dynasty of mis
cellaneous tribes and races and an immense
mixed population. We are shown, of
course, only the external aspect of things;
we probably see ■no more than an astute
and carefully calculating Government
thinks expedient to disclose. And we may
assume that nowhere are the arcana Imperii
more strictly withheld, so that the reality
may be safely guessed to be very I different
from the outward published aspect of
affairs. Nevertheless, in ample chroni
cle of current events and transactions, in
the notifications and orders, in their style
and their substance, we can recognize a
leviathan , Government in * full play and
power, dealing in a masterful and appar
ently successful fashion with at least one
problem that has long troubled the world,
and still occasionally perplexes even Euro
: pean statesmen.— The Nineteenth Century,
The Depth at Which Waves Are Not
Felt— Pressors » Mile Down.
The sea occupies three-fourths of the
surface of the earth. At . the depth of
about 3500 feet waves are not felt. Tne
temperature is : the same, varying only a
trifle from the Ice of the pole to the burn
ing sun of the equator. A mile down the
water has a pressure of over a ton to the
square inch, says a writer in Ocean. If a
box . six feet deep were filled with sea
water and allowed to evaporate under the
sun there would be two inches of salt left
on the bottom. Taking the average depth
of the ocean to :be three miles there
would be a layer of salt 230 leet
thick on the bed of the Atlantic. The
water is colder at the bottom than at the
surface. In tlie many . bays on the coast
of Norway the water often freezes at the
bottom before it does above.' Waves are
very deceptive. To look at them In a storm
oue would think the water traveled. The
water slays in the same place, but the
motion goes on. Sometimes in storms,
these waves are forty feet high, and travel
fifty miles an hour — more than t.viee as
fast as the swiftest steamship. The distance
from valley to valley is generally fifteen
times the height, hence a wave five feet
high will extend over seventy-five feet of
water. The force of the sea dashing on
Bell Kock is said to be seventeen tons for
each square yard. Evaporation is a wonder
ful power in drawing the water from the
sea. Every year a layer of the entire sea,
fourteen feet thick, is taken up into the
clouds. The winds bear their burden
into the land, and the water comes
down in rain upon the fields, to
flow biiclf at last . through rivers.
The depth of the sea presents an interest
ing problem. If the Atlantic were lowered
'e.'e'.l feet the distance fr in shore to
shore would be half as great or 1.100 miles,
If lowered a little more than three miles,
say I'.I.CSO feet, there would be a road of dry
laud from Newfoundland to Ireland. This
is the plain nn which the great Atlantic
cables were laid. The Mediterranean is
comparatively shallow. A drying up of 060
feet would leave three different seas and
Africa would be joined with Italy. The
British Channel is more like a pond, which
accounts for its choppy waves. It has
been found difficult to get the correct
soundings of the Atlantic. A midship
man of the navy overcame the difficulty,
aud a shot weighing thirty pounds carries
down the line. A hole is bored through the
sinker, through which a rod of iron is
passed, moving easily back and forth. In
the end of the bar a cup is dug out, and the
inside coated with lard. The bar is made
fast to the line, and a sling holds the shot
on. When the bar, which extends below
the ball, touches the earth, the sling un
hooks, and the shot slides off. The lard in
the end of the bar holds some of the sand,
or whatever may be on the bottom, and a
drop shuts over the cup to keep the water
from washing the sand out, • When the
ground is reached a shock is felt as if an
electric current had passed through the line.
The Uncle Sim Great Mule Railroad of
the Early Days of Calirorula.
Dr. Nelson of the California Pioneers,
says the editor of Themis, published in
Sacramento, handed us a few days ago an
envelope reminiscent of the early days of
this State. It is one of a series issued by
Putt Stone, an eccentric character, who at
that time resided at Greenwood Valley
and who became noted as a song-writer.
Putt was an original man, and will be re
membered by many a pioneer. He com
mitted suicide at Greenwood several years
ago. On the face of the envelope we have
are printed representations of two fully
equipped stages; at the top, "Putt's
Overland Envelope. This little insti
tution is to be forwarded to its
place of destination by Uncle Sam's
Great Mule Railroad, and is expected to ar
rive inside of schedule time— provided the
cars don't get stuck in the mud, nor tho
locomotive run out of grass!" (in tbe left
hand margin are the words Mules war
ranted kind, poor, affectionate and devoted
to tbe cause." On tbe right-hand margin.
"Hurrah for infernal improvements I
Nothing like it. Go in, Sammy!" On the
bottom "Overland by Uncle Samuel's
Celebrated Mule Railroad Line—
lished In 1853." On the reverse side is the
following, from which it will be inferred
that Putt took little stock in Dr. Gwln or the
Pacific Railroad enterprise.
Air— " Vidimus and His Dinah."
Say, bow would you fancy a trip overland
liy Samuel's railroad, exceedingly grand:
With mule locomotives for passenger trains
And kettle:, fur cooking your beans on the plains?
i.r* y . - thorns— ral lal, lv l.ii, etc.
The road o". r tbe mountains in winter Is wet
And that oil the desert Is billons, -' yon bet;"
The bottom drops ont and the vehicle In—
no much Tor the efforts of old Granny Gwln, l
Chorus— Tv ral lal, ln rat, etc.
When grass wonl afford It they unhitch the team
And camp by the road to recruit up the steam.
The tar-bucket, silent, would say, could It speak:
'• Oh, railroad democracy, we've sprung a leak!"
Chorus— Tv ral lal. In ral, etc.
To scare off tbe wolves, when they bowl on the
- track.
The brave engineer hits the leaders a craclr.
The hungry conductor commences to pray.
When oil goes the whip-lash and dash is to pay.
Chorus— Tv ral lai, lv ral, etc.
They turn out their engines to rest and to feed,
- The Injuns then muster and raise a stampede:
'And away goes the railroad, no person knows whore,
BfOW that Is tremendously grand, I declare.
Chorus— ral lal. lv ral, etc.
They ferry the rivers wherever they cross,
In case of seasickness, knock down a lame boss;
Tin- mall agent vomits, and off goes his hat.
And with It the mall tumbles Into the l'latte.
. Chorus— Tv ral lal, lv ral, etc.
By this institution they'll carry our troops
Aud ladles, providing they go without hoops,
Agree uot to meddle with Mormon affairs.
Or advocate lingliiun's production o: heirs.
Chorus— Tv ral lal, lv ral, etc.
Oh, Sammy, oh, Sammy, you Know you've done
■ wrong, -
To build a mule railroad, so wonderful long;
Your ouly show now to get pay for your pains.
Is to tiaruoss your mules, and drive over the plains.
Chorus— Tv ral lal, lv ral, etc •
All difficulties settled according to miners' law.
' Copyright secured according to act of Congress.
Ills Novel Plan for Recovering Mouey
. for a Client.
"When I was in Arabia," said Alexan
der Kon to, whose home is under his hat, "I
was told a story," and he was addressing
himself to a representative of the St. Louis
'Republic, "which illustrates the resources
of tbe Arabian lawyer, and which may of
fer some suggestion to the members of the
legal profession in this country. "An En
glish merchant, staying at an inn In one of
the smaller towns, placed on deposit with
the landlord £300. He neglected to take a
receipt for the money, , and when a few
weeks later, having been absent on a short
journey, he. had occasion to ask for it,
the landlord opened his eyes with well
feigned astonishment uud pretended to have
forgotten the transaction. The English
man was naturally enraged, but he had no
proof and no witness, and in his extremity
lie sought the advice of a native lawyer.
The wi-e man of the East reflected a mo
ment, and then Bravely - said : "Entrust
another £300 to the keeping of the landlord,
but be sure to have a witness on hand."
"The Englishman was puzzled to know
bow this would help him, but he did as he
was directed. 'Now,' said the lawyer the
next day, 'go and claim the money, but
don't take your witness with you.' This
was done, and I the : innkeeper, ill-prepared
to practice tbe same deceit the second time,
handed over the notes. The traveler ones
more sought his legal adviser, who said
to < him, "; ' It is well. : Approach your host
again, -accompanied _.. by the • witness,
and':. demand .-.your money.' - The '■ En
glishman followed bis instructions.:'*
1 1 gave - you * your -' money,' j protested - his
host.' 'Come, now,', replied the merchant,
' here is a man who was present at the lime. -
lie I will tell you that he was not a witness
of what you ■ claim. He saw me hand you
the money. Be quick, please; 1 must leave
the city.' The landlord was outwitted. He
saw the . trap, : but it v was * too : late, and
without more ado he made good the sum."
V.-.-.- No-Mnn's Lund, f-'
It is not generally known that the orig
inal No-Man's Land lies along the boundary
line ' between Delaware and Maryland and
lias been attached to Pennsylvania for judi
cial ; purposes.'- It is a triangular strip for
which there was: no provision mado in the
surveys s of ? Mason . aud . Dixon." Pennsyl
vania didu't .want \ the . strip, i but \it was
crowded upon her. : :-- ".'■'■
Excepting Tazieli, Persians Hare
No Dramatic Amusements.
Ths Female Dancers— Ths Athletes, and Hew
They- Prepare fer a Contest — Ths
Arena for Public Exhibitions. .
IyT^NITED States Minister S. G. W. Ben-
J|§|& jamin, who has taken a deep interest
LJ,') in affairs in and around Persia, in a
letter to the Philadelphia Times, describes
the games and athletic contests of the Shah's
people. Excepting their great religious
drama or passion play, called the Tazieb,
writes Mr. Benjamin, the Persians
have no dramatic amusements such as af
ford entertainment to other people. They,
partly make up for this lack by listening to
professional story-tellers and strolling musi
cians; they are also addicted to card-play
ing, although with much less variety of
The story-teller.
games than with European cards. Games of
chance are forbidden in the Koran ; so also
are pictures or sculptures of human beings;
but the facile, pleasure-loving Persians
found means to evade the precepts of the
Prophet on these points.
The characters are represented as on our
cards with conventional figures; but the
Persian pictures may vary considerably in
design and are far more exact to nature
than the grotesque figures on our cards;
this is doubtless due to the fact that Persian
cards are all painted by hand on little tab
lets of papier-mache, two inches lout; and
one inch and a quarter wide. The design
is executed in water colors, sometimes on a
gold ground, and protected by a glossy coat
of thick varnish. The back and edges are
always black. Some of these cards are very
expensive, a pack costing as high as $10 to
845, although, of course, such expensive
sets are for the wealthy. But whether for
rich or poor Persian playing cards are made
by band. The chief game played with
these cards resembles brag or poker. It is
always played for stakes, and the sums lost
or won in the houses of the nobility are
sometimes large. *
As for the Persian dancers there is little
to be said about them that can lead to an
introduction of that form of entertainment
into the United States. They are profes
sionals brought up to the business from the
cradle. The female dancers are practically
forbidden to exercise their vocation by the
present law of Persia, but the law Is a
dead letter in one respect These women
are invited to dance in the harems before
women only, and if they do not dance be
fore men they are not molested. Their fig
ures are supple aud their movements are
net without grace. But the moral tendency
of the dance is anything but elevating to
the languid inmates of the harem.
The male dancers shave their faces
smooth and the head from the forehead to
the nape of the neck, the latter a custom of
all Persians; but the sidelecks they allow
to grow down over the shoulders to resem
ble women. They also wear long skirts,
still further to carry out the resemblance.
To a European the appearance of the male
dancers is exceedingly disgusting. .
Next to the Tazieh, the least objection
able and most popular sport In Persia is
. that of athletic exhibitions. All people
A Persian eltib-tvingrr.
with a healthfully developed manhood en
joy displays of physical strength ; wbich
need never be demoralizing when kept
above the brutalities of the prize
ring. As one strolls about the streets
of Teheran he often sees a crowd col
lected intensely absorbed in some exciting
scene. They are dead to all else but what
is going on before them. On approaching
and peering through a chink in this ani
mated mass one finds that they are gazing
on a wrestling match. Such is the steadi
ness of the climate that almost the whole
year round such exhibitions occur out of
doors under the clear sky. But these are
the cheap shows witnessed chiefly 'by the
lower classes, the performers being alto
gether second rate.
If one would see the athletes of Persia at
their best he must see them in the covered
arenas where they pet form to what in Bos
ton are called " cultured audiences." The
professionals of Persia " form a clars by
themselves, as distinct from otlier pursuits
as our actors, as carefully trained, dieted
and disciplined as champion oarsmen. The
athletes of Greece aud Kome tried to keep
up their prodigious strength by regular, fre
quent and violent exercises tn the gymna
sium. But the Persian professionals follow
quite another course. They avoid severe
The salute.
BBIgNWC, c 't^XASMSSU '—-c _ . _
exertion and fatigue. They eat five or , six
times a day and are warmly clothed, espe
cially during the cold season. > As the Per
sians also treat their horses In the same
way— and all the world knows the endur- '
ance, strength and beauty of the Persian
breeds— this system may not be so absurd
as it first appears - to us with | our - different
notions and practice. • These athlete on - or
dinary occasions go abroad ■ but once daily,
and then toward eveuiug, and walk with
great deliberation. :■ "-'fti'lm '"*lWl|liU*t_lfitt_l
, -When the period for practicing or for ex
hibiting in public approaches tlie Persian
athlete lies In hed for several days, gather
ing force for the contest of strength. Our
plan is to ; gain I strength by exercise, theirs
not so much to gain as to keep what strength
they have. Stranga as . this theory of the
conservation of forces may : seem, there is
yet no question I that some of these Persian
athletes ," '.. sometimes L . display v prodigious
power. ■■■-■■-■-. : ....
, The pnollc exhibitions are held In places
especially constructed for the purpose. The
arena or pit Is excavated at least five or six
feet below the surface nnd the earth is
beaten hard and rolled smooth. Tha spec
tators sit ; Persian fashion on their knees
acd . heels on the floor of a gallery jilt
around the arena and carefully pro
tected- by an awning : or- roof from
the- elements. The arena, whether
oval or round, has an average circumfer
ence of 140 feet. In the better class of am
phitheaters the floor nf the arena Is some
times spread with the thick, massive felt
carpet called named, and the sides padded
with cushions to prevent any injury to the
performers. -..-.-■
When time Is called the athletes run for
ward and leap from the gallery into the
arena, sometimes alighting and balancing
themselves some moments on one leg, a re- r
markable feat. They are naked excepting a
pair of short, close-fitting breeches -of
leather. Their skin is oiled to enable
them to ° elude the grasp of their op
ponents. A number enter the arena at
once and begin with prolonged exer
cises with heavy Indian clubs, which
tliey swing in every position, . gradu
ally increasing the weight, until toward'
the close of this practice clubs of. oak are
sometimes wielded in each hand weighing
sixty pounds. This clubexercise continues
over two hours; the movements are made
to the accompaniment of music, and toward
the ' close the strongest athletes stand on
one leg and balance the clubs at arm's
length for several seconds. . This species of
exercise Is of great antiquity in Persia.
The athlete who is able to outlast all the
others in the club game is accounted the
victor, and receives substantial rewards
from the spectator-. '•"WHi!TOBl a l3foE
After this snort is over the wrestlers
begin. When they are ready to grapple,
each places bis right hand on Uie head of
the other as' a salute. They then grasp
each other with deliberation, placing one
arm over and the other under the shoulder
of the opponent. Then the struggle begins
in ' earnest. With us the chief object in
wrestling is to throw one's antagonist, and
on the back if possible. It is quite opposite
in Persia. There the wrestler does bis best
to drop on his hands and knees, and his op
ponent tries to prevent him.
The first one down firmly fixed on hands
aniMtnees then has to resist the efforts of
his antagonist to turn him over on his
back. Oue might easily imagine that a tall,
muscular athlete would have little diffi
culty in accomplishing that feat especially
as It is permitted by their rules to lift one's
antagonist by the leather band of the
breeches. But the strength, suppleness and
quickness of the Persiau athletes is such
that the maneuver is one of extreme diffi
culty. As a last resort the wrestler who is
down may still further resist the attempt to
turn by falling flat on his stomach.
A Persian street-demeer.
If the standing wrestler finally succeeds
in laying bis antagonist fiat on bis back the
latter remains there long enough to thank
him. then springs to bis feet and once mot
salutes the victor with every mark of deep
respect. The latter receives the courtesy
with silent gravity as conscious that he ii.
torn may soon be among the vanquished.
For the victor must meet all new-comers
until he encounters one both stronger and
fresher than himself. Cases have oc
curred of Persian athletes who have
successively overcome every antagonist
who has presented himself at one
exhibition of strength, men having
been known to conquer from twenty
to twenty-four contestants in one after
noon. Presents are showered on each vic
tor, the one remaining last in the field
sometimes receiving hundreds and thou
sands of dollars from the wealthy enthusi
astic spectators.
This sport is highly esteemed in Persia,
and men of rank and physical strength
sometimes condescend to enter the arena
and try a bout with the professional ath
letes. The latter are shrewd enough on
such occasions to cede the victory to their
wealthy. antagonists, who, flushed by their
success, present costly gifts to their pro
fessional antagonist.
An American's Memento of the Iron
Chancellor's School Days.
"This is all that I bave left of a pipe
which Bismarck used in his school days." •
The speaker was Judge J. Gadsden King,
who leaned far back in his easy office chair
as he spoke and held up in his hand a plain
cherry pipe-stem about a foot long.
"How did 1 come into possession of it?''
the Judge said, repeating my question.
"It was in this way. You sco my brother.
Mitchell C. King, went to school with Bis
marck when he was a student at Dr.
Becker's famous school at Fraukfort-on-the-
Main. They were classmates and room
mates—altogether very Intimate friends.
Now when they were about to leave col
lege they exchanged pipes— for you know
every German student has his pipe. Well.
Mitchell brought the pine which the future
Chancellor gave him iv exchange for his
own to America with him, and it fell into
my hands, for 1 am a great smoker. .
"The pipe," Judge King continued, "was
quite a pretty one. The bowl was made of
fine china and bad a cameo likeness of Bis
marck on the front of It. The stem was
about twice as long as it is now, for it has
been trimmed very often. '
" Mitchell and Bismarck were very warm
friends, and corresponded with each other
for years; io fact, they do now, 1 think.
Some time ago somebody in America wrote
Bismarck a letter, asking him if he knew
anybody on this side of the water. He re
plied that he knew and corresponded with
two men in the United States— one was
Mitchell C. King and the other Dr. Emory
Coffin ot Aiken, S. C. Mitchell, ray broth
er. Is now 76 years old, and is living at Flat
Bock, N. C. ' „._ . M
"How old is the stem? lasted.
"Well, It's hard to say," the Judge re
plied. "Let me see. Mitchell brought It
over with him in 1835; that makes it 85
years old. and I don't know old it was then.
it is an interesting memento, and I prize it
very highly," the Judge concluded, as be
laid it carefully away in one of his desk
drawers, and turned to pick up his every
day pipe, which he had laid aside while
holding the stem of Bismarck's school-day
pipe in his hand.— Atlanta Journal.
The Trouble One Toons Duii© Had With ,
Coats of Arms.
L' ;.." Coats of arms!" the young man ex
claimed to his friends who stood about him
on the piazza of the Spring House. , '
'-;" "Coats of arms! Why, fellows, I've got
; so many I don't know what to do with them
—I have, b' jove !"
"■'■„" You have?" replied one of his compan
ions, with just a tinge of doubt in his patri
cian tones.
':■ " That's what I said."
"Well, now, how many have you?"
- " Well, In the first place there's father
father has one. I've forgotten what it is
exactly— an eagle or. something another, I
think it is, standing on a banner— l guess
it's a banner— and there's mother, she has
one, too, and— let's see, how many does that
"Two." '
"Two? Yes, I guess it does. Well, say
, two— what's a fellow to do with two, any
way?" :■:-.
"I don't know what he would do with
one," very sensibly broke in one of the
others. : ■-.-...
: "How did you come by your arms?"
asked tbe incredulous member of the party.
"Oh, don't you know, one of mothers
forefathers came to America with Frederick
the Great acd did something or the other
which pleased the old duffer— but come on.
fellows, a' pose we go over to theLarllngton
and bowl a little. "-Richfield News.
He Listened to Her.— "Did your wife
listen to your excuse for staying out so late -
last night?" - - . ■■] " „
"Ob, yes; she listened to me, and then— •-„
"Then what V.:-■:■;. :-■:■; _ ,
"I listened to her."— The Jester. m*£m

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