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THE WINSLOW MAIL.
j. T. WALLACE I*ubliHlier. WINSLOW, ----- ARIZONA. STORM. Storm and stress on the land. And stress and storm on the sea; And a wind that tolls for the unblest souls That asleep in its green caves be. Fhe raindrops splash on the pane; The fogs sweep in from the east; And the seagulls fly o’er the breakers high, On the hearts of the drowned to feast. A horror lies on the sea; On the land does a terror fall; •Twas in storm like this sailed the fated ship To the death that lay wait for all. And the laugh of the treacherous sea Rings out o’er their unknown graves: While its scorn leaps high to the cloud wracked sky. With the hiss of its conquering waves. For the ships may sail from the east. And the ships may sail from the west — They may pierce with their anchors its untamed heart, And furrow with steel its breast. If it pleasure that heart to wait. It can smile like some guiltless thing. And no words can tell of the magic spell The throbs of its surges sing. But its hunger is heavy to see; And its anger is death to feel; In the awesome hour that beholds its power. Like reeds are the ribs of steel. It is hungry for souls to-night; It has won, it would win once more. It is sick of the wrecks it has dashed on the rocks And strewn o’er the sand-paved shore. Oh! the moan of the wind and the rain— Oh! the crash of the sea’s fierce hand. As it fling 3 the gage of its quenchless rage At the feet of the cliffs on the strand! God pity the ships that reel O’er its pitiless breast to-night. And guide their way through the storm swept bay, Ere the dawn of the longed-for light. And God pity the souls that wait, In anguish and nameless dread, Till the morn shall wake and the storm shall break. And the sea toss back their dead. —Boston Transcript. | In Memory of Martha I LBy Paul Lawrence Dunbar . 9 YOU may talk about banjo playing if you will, but unless you heard old Ben in his palmy days you have no idea what genius can do with five strings stretched over the sheepskin. You have been told, perhaps, that the banjo is not an expressive instrument. Well, in the hands of an ordinary player it is not. But you should have heard old Ben, as, bending low over the neck, with closed eyes, he made the shell re spond like a living soul to his every mood. It sang, it laughed, it sighed; and, just as the tears began welling up into the listener’s eyes, it would break out into a merry reel that would set feet a-twinkling before one knew it. Ben and his music were the delight of the whole population, white and black, master and man, and in the evening when he sat before his cabin door, pick ing out tune after tune, hymn, ballad or breakdown, he was always sure of an audience. Sometimes it was a group of white children from the big house, with a row of pickaninnies pressing eloss to them. Sometimes it was old mas’ and mis’ themselves who strolled up to the old man, drawn by his strains. Often there was company, and then Ben would be asked to leave his door and play on the veranda of the big house. Later on he would come back to Martha laden with his rewards and swelled with the praises of his powers. And Martha would say to him: “You, Ben, don’ you git conceity now; you des’ keep yo’ haid level. I des’ mo’n ’low you been up dah playin’ some o’ dem ongodly chunes, lak ‘Hoe Co’n an" Dig Tates.’ ” Ben would laugh and say: “Well, den, I tek de wickedness offen de ban jo. Swing in, ol’ ’ooman!” And he would drop into the accompaniment of one of the hymns that were the joy of Martha’s religious soul, and she would sing with him until, with a flourish and a thump, he brought the music to an end. Next to his banjo, Ben loved Martha, and next to Ben, Martha loved the ban jo. In a time and a region where fre quent changes of partners were com mon, these two servants were noted for their single-hearted devotion to each other. He had never had any other wife, and she had called no other man husband. Their children had grown up and gone to other plantations, or to cabins of their own. So, alone, drawn closer by the habit of comradeship, they had grown old together—Ben, Martha and the banjo. One day Martha was taken sick, and Ben came home to find her moaning with pain, but dragging about trying to get his supper. With loud pretended npbraidings he bundled her into bed, got his own supper, and then ran to his master with the news. “Marty she down sick, Mas’ Tawm,” he said, “an’ I’s mighty oneasy in my min’ ’bout huh. Seem lak she don’ look right to me outen huh eyes.” “I’ll send the doctor right down, Ben,” said his master. “1 don’t reckon it’s anything very serious. I wish you would come up to the house to-night with jour banjo. Mr. Lewis is going to be here with his daughter, and I want them to hear j-ou play.” It was thoughtlessness on the mas ter's part; that was all. He did not be lieve that Martha could be very ill; but he would have reconsidered his demand if he could have seen on Ben’s face the look of pain which the darkness hid. “You'll send de doetah right away, mas'?” “Oh. yes; I’ll send him down. Don't forget to come up.” “I won’t fu’git,” said Ben as he turned away. But he did not pick up his banjo to go to the big house until the planta tion doctor had come and given Martha something to ease her.- Then he said: “I’s got to go up to the big house, Marty; I be back putty soon.” “Don’ you hu’y thoo on my ’count. You go ’long, an’ gin Mas’ Tawm good measure, you hyeah?” > “Quit yo’ bossin’,” said Ben, a little more cheerfully; “I got you whah you cain’t move, an’ es you give me any o’ yo’ back talk I ’low I frail you mon st’ous.” Martha chuckled a “go ’long,” and Ben went lingeringly- out of the door, the banjo in its ragged cover under his arm. The plantation’s boasted musician played badly that night. Col. Tom Curtis wondered what was the matter with him, and Mr. Lewis told his daughter as he drove away that it seemed as if the colonel’s famous ban joist had been overrated. But who could play reels and jigs with the proper swing when before his eyes was the picture of a smoky cabin room, and on the bed in it a sick wife, the wife of 40 years? The black man hurried back to his cabin where Martha was dozing. She awoke at his step. “Didn’t I tell you not to hu’y back hyeah?” she asked. “I ain’t nevah hu’ied. I reckon I gin ’em all de music dey wanted,” Ben an swered a little sheepishly. He knew that he had not exactly covered himself with glory. “How’s you feelin’?” he added. “ ’Bout de same. I got kin’ of a mis’ry in my side.” “I reckon you couldn’t jine in de hymn to tek de wickedness outen dis ol’ banjo?” He looked anxiously at her. “I don’t know ’bout j’inin’ in. but you go ’long an* play anyhow. Es 1 feel lak journeyin’ wid you I fin' you somewhar on de road.” The banjo began to sing, and when the hymn was half through Martha's voice, not so strong and full as usual, but trembling with a new- pathos, joined in and went on to the end. Then Ben put up the banjo and went to his rest. The next day Martha was no better, and the same the next. Her mistress came down to see her, and delegated one of the other servants to be with her through the day and to get Ben’s meals. The old man himself was her close attendant in the evenings, and he w aited on her with the tenderness of a woman. He varied his duties as nurse bv playing to her, sometimes some live ly cheerful bit, but more often the hymns she loved but was now too weak to follow. It gave him an aching pleasure at his heart to see how she hung on his music. It seemed to have become her verj- life. He would play for no one else now, and the little space before his door held his audience of white and black chil dren no more. They still came, but the cabin door was inhospitably shut, and they went away whispering among themselves: “Aunt Martha's sick.” Little Liz, who was a very wise piek aninnjr, once added: “Yes, Aunt Mar fy’s sick, an’ my mammy saj-s she ain’ never gwine to git up no mo’.” An other child had echoed “Never!” in the hushed, awe-struck tones w’hich chil dren use in the presence of the great mystery. Liz's mother was right. Ben’s Mar tha was never to get up again. One night during a pause in his playing she whispered: “Play ‘Ha’k! F’om de Tomb.’ ” He turned into the hymn, and her voice, quavering and weak, joined in. Ben started, for she had not tried to sing for so long. He wondered if it wasn’t a token. In the midst of the hymn she stopped, but he played on to the end of the verse. Then he got up and looked at^her. Her ej’es w-ere closed, and there was a smile on her sac smile that Ben knew was not of earth. He called her, but she did not answer. He put his hand upon her head, but she lay- very still, and then he knelt and buried his head in the bedclothes, giving himself up to all the tragic violence of an old man’s grief. “Marfj-! Marfy! Marfy!” he called. “What you want to leave me fu’? Marffc-, wait; I ain’t gwine be long.” His cries aroused the quarters, and the neighbors came flocking in. Ben was hustled out of the way, the news carried to the big house, and prepara tions made for the burying. Ben took his banjo. He looked at it fondly, patted it, and placing it in its covering, put it on the highest shelf in the cabin. “Brotliah Ben alius tvas a mos’ p’opah an’ ’sponsible so’t o’ man,” said Liz’s mother as she saw- him do it. “Now, dat’s what 1 call showin’ ’spec’ to Sis Marfj-, puttin’ his banjo up in de ve’y place whah it’ll get all dus’. Brothah Ben sho is diff’ent f’om anj- husban’ I evah had.” She had just provided Liz with a third stepfather. On many evenings after Martha had been laid away, the children, seeing Ben come and sit outside his cabin door, would gather around, waiting, and hoping that the banjo would be brought out, but thej- w ere doomed to disappointment. On the high shelf the old banjo still reposed, gathering dust. Finallj- one of the youngsters, bolder than the rest, spoke: “Ain’t you gw-ine plaj- no mo’, Uncle Ben?” and received a sad shake of the head in replj-, and a laconic “Nope.” This remark Liz dutifully reported to her mother. “No, o’ co’se not,” said that wise woman with emphasis; “o’ co’se Brothah Ben ain’ gw-ine plaj- no mo’; not right now, leas’ways; an’ don’ you go dah pesterin’ him, nuther, Liz. You be perlite an’ ’spectable to him, an’ make yo’ ’bejunce when you pass.” It was several months after this that a number of young people came from the north to visit the j-oung master, Robert Curtis. It was on the second evening of their staj- that young Eldridge said: “Look here, Mr. Curtis, my father visited j-our plantation years ago, and he told me of a wonderful ban joist you had. and said if I ever came here to be sure and hear him if he was alive. Is he?” “You mean old Ben? Yes. he’s still living, but the death of his wife rather sent him daft, and he hasn't plaj-ed for a long time.” “Pshaw, I’m sorrj-. We laughed at father's enthusiasm over him, because we thought he overrated his powers.” ‘‘l reckon not. He was trulj- wonder ful.” “Don’t jou think you can stir him up?” “Oh, do, Mr. Curtis,” chorused a num ber of voices. “Well, I don’t know-,” said Robert, “but come with me and I’ll try.” The young people took their way to the cabin where old Ben occupied his accustomed place before the door. “Uncle Ben,” said Robert, “here are some friends of mine from the north who are anxious to hear j-ou plaj". and I knew you’d break your rule for me.” “Chile, honey—” began the old man. But Robert interrupted him. “I’m not going to let you saj- no,’’and he hur ried past Uncle Ben into the cabin. He came out, brushing the banjo and say ing: “Whew, the dust!” The old man sat dazed as the instru ment was thrust into his hand. He looked pitifully into the faces about him, but thej- were all expectancy. Then his fingers wandered to the neck, and he tuned the old banjo. Then he began to play. He seemed inspired. His listeners stood transfixed. From piece to piece he glided, pour ing out the music in a silver stream. His old fingers seemed to have forgot ten their stiffness as they flew over the familiar strings. For nearly an hour he played and then abruptly- stopped. The applause was generous and real, but the old man only smiled sadly, and w-ith a faraw-ay look in his ej-es. As they turned away, somewhat aw-ed by his manner, they heard him begin to plaj- softly- an old hymn. It was “Hark! From the Tomb.” He stopped when but half through, and Robert returned to ask him to fin ish, but his head had fallen forward close against the banjo’s neck, and there was a smile on his face, as if he had sud denly had a sweet memory of Martha.— Saturday Evening Post. MABEL’S GOOD LUCK. A Pretty Story Showlnjff That It Pay# to lie Respectful to Old People. Perhaps the young woman who wrote this moral story had read about that nice girl who always looked pleasant at the deaf and dumb man and found her self heiress to his large property when his will was probated. This is only a supposition, of course. The story speaks for itself, as the reader will see: “Mabel was a beautiful girl, just dawning into womanhood, and she ran a typewriter. She helped support her widowed mother, her father having been lost at sea many years previous to the beginning of this tale. Mabel could earn but little wages with her type writing, because she was also obliged to answer the telephone, and she couldn’t expect regular typewriting wages for doing that. But she did not complain. Every day when she rode dow-ntown in an electric car she noticed an elderly- gentleman whose clothes were old-fashioned and pretty shabby. He had a good face, but she could not help seeing that his trousers bagged at the knees a great deal. Other peo ple noticed it, too, and snickered and made remarks, and even called him ‘Old Baggy Knees;’ but Mabel never did. She was too well brought up, for one thing, and, besides, she had a good heart. Whenever she could she made room on the seat for the old man, and once when there w-as no room to make she stood up and gave him her seat. After awhile he talked w-ith her, and found out who she w-as and where she jived. One day-she missed him. In fact, she saw him no more. It may have been a week or so when there came a heavy rap at the door. It was a man with a package. The address was ‘Miss Mabel Pinklington, No. 972 Skid more place,’ and Mabel opened it with nervous haste. All it contained was a pair of much-worn trousers and a card which read: ‘For the little woman who never called me Baggy Knees, from her sincere admirer, John Tewksbury.* Mabel laughed, but her mother shook out the garment and said: ‘That’s a funny present.’ She felt in the pockets, but there was nothing there. Then she threw the trousers across a chair and plaintively said: ‘You know-, Ma bel, dear, that if we cannot make the last payment on this home to-morrow we w-ill lose it.’ “Mabel sighed heavily and answ-ered: ‘Yes, mother, we will lose it.’ “Just then her mother, who had been looking at the trousers idly-, said: I don’t think I ever saw such baggy knees on a human person. They look fairly- solid.’ She came a little closer and felt of them. ‘I declare, they are!’ she excitedly said. She turned them inside out, and lo! two huge wads of S2O bills fell on the floor, one from each knee. When they counted them up they found there was $4,180 in the two bunches. Oh, but that was a happy household! And next morning when the cruel agent came for his money he was given it before he could ask for it. “All of which shows that it always pays to be good and respectful to old persons.”—Cleveland Flain Dealer. THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Increase in Area, Population and Revenue in tlie Last Thirty Years. The empire is now a territory- of 11,- 500,000 square miles, or 13,000,000 if we include Egypt and the Soudan; and in this territory there is a population of about 407,000,000, or of over 420,000,000 if Egy-pt and the Soudan are included —a population about one-fourth of the whole population of the earth. Os this population about 50,000,000 are of Eng lish speech and race, the ruling race— in the United Kingdom, in British North America, and in Australasia; and the remaining 350,000,000 to 370,- 000,000 are the various subject races, for the most part in India and Africa, the proportion of the governing to the sub ject races being thus about one-eighth, say-s the Spectator. The increase in area and population in this empire, excluding Egypt and the Soudan, amounts since 1871 to 2,854.000 square miles of area, or more than one fourth of the whole, and to 125.000.000 of population, which is also more than one-fourth of the whole. The increase of the ruling race included in this popu lation amounts to about 12.500,000, or about one-fourth of the number in 1897; and the increase in the subject races is 112,000,000, or nearly one-third the num ber in 1897. This increase i* largely- due to annexation. The existing revenue of the different parts of this empire added together amounts to £ 257.653,000, and the imports and exports to £1.375,000,- 000. The increase since 1871 is £115,- 143.000 for revenue, or more than 40 per cent, of the present total, while the in crease in imports and exports is £ 428,- 000,000, or about one-third of the pres ent total. Tlie Fastest Illver llont. Portland, Ore., claims to have the, fastest sternwheel steamboat in the world. The Hassalo, recently- complet ed for the Columbia river trade, has made spurts of 26 2-3 miles an hour. She is 180 feet long, with a tubed boiler eight feet in di-meter, and compound engines of over 3,000 horse power. The boat is so swift that it was found nec essary to strengthen her rudder. | The Currency Question, f $ 1 a®. STRANGE DOCTRINE. A Wall Street Organ Says There Is an Imperative Need for More Currency. Some very curious developments are taking place in Wall street —develop- ments that cannot be accounted for by anything we have seen or heard from that quarter during the past few years, says the Atlanta Constitution. We give one instance out of several. The New York Journal of Commerce remarks editorially that “the vast transactions now going on and the volume of busi ness that must come in autumn, must impress every observer with a sense of the imperative need of a larger volume of paper currency, and of some means of expanding the aggregate supply of circulation in response to the require ments of commerce, whether these be temporary- or permanent.” There y-ou have it! And we venture to say that no reader of the Journal of Commerce has previously hit upon such a state ment in his favorite newspaper for many long years. Naturally, therefore, to find it there now, duly- spread out in the editorial columns and standing for the views of the editor, is calculated to cause the thoughtful reader to rub his eyes. Why, 20 years ago a demand for more paper money' was roundly de nounced in Wall street as “financial heresy'.” To propose it was to solicit abuse. There was a mighty small dif ference in the view of Y\ all street be tween betray-ing y-our country- and ad vocating “inflation.” Four years ago, the coinage of silver dollars was “in flation.” Six years ago there was a loud complaint of the overabundance of money’. The banks in the money- cen ters were gorged with it; the gold or gans called attention to the situation in order to show that there was an over supply on hand; and the treasury re ports were quoted to show the tremend ous increase in the money supply. More than that, the able director of the mint, who can be depended upon at a pinch, mustered all the fugitive figures in the multiplication table to show that the prospective increase of gold production in this year would be suffi cient to cause the “silverites” to open their eyes. We are told that the money outstand ing the banks and “among the people” I has been increased “some $300,000,000 in the last three years.” In the face of all these claims, and at a season when the demand for money is not most ac tive, the Journal of Commerce comes forward w-ith the declaration that there is an “imperative need of a larger vol ume of paper currency,” and likewise, an imperative need of “some means of expanding the aggregate supply of cir culation in response to the require ments of commerce.” Well, this is pre cisely what we have been contending, only we have insisted that the increase in circulation should be in the shape of specie, silver money, or notes based on money of final payment. It is no wonder, when the recent declara tions of the gold organs are considered, that a New England paper belonging to that class should read with amaze ment the proposition of the Journal of commerce, should top it off with the in quiry: “Is Wall street going over to Bryan ?” and should declare that it “sounds like a sentence taken from the stump deliverances of some populist orator.” We gather from this New-Eng land paper that such propositions are not effective even when they come from so conservative a source as the Journal of Commerce, for it prays that the cur rency reform movement may “be deliv ered from the patronage of these popu listic speculators.” The Journal of Commerce a “populistic speculator!” Well! what next? We may well regard it as a very encouraging sign that such financial organs should perceive and recognize the necessity of enlarging the money supply-. Wall street will ! insist, of course, that the new supplies shall come from the banks, but the peo ple, we think, will be inclined to believe that the credit of the government is better than that of all the banks put to gether. That question, however, is not very pertinent at the moment. The main thing is that the Journal of Com merce should be willing to echo the declaration that there is an imperative need of an increase in the volume of cur rency. CHANGE IN THE ISSUE. Only Alteration in ItiOO Will Re Drop ping of the Mask by the Gold Men. There is only one change that can be made in the issue for 1900. That is the dropping of the mask by- the gold men. In state after state the republican party is repudiating the St. Louis plat form, abandoning all pretense of favor ing bimetallism, and declaring broadly for the gold standard. That, of course, is what the leaders really meant in 1596, but they disguised the fact and deceived many honest men. It is now clear just w here the party organization stands. It is a practical certainty that if France and India w ere to signify their willingness to join us in an agreement for the restoration of silver, the repub lican party would not accept. We never believed that it would, that is, since the election of McKinley. If the British government had agreed to open the Indian mint, and France had agreed to open hers, we do not believe that Mr. McKinley would have accepted the prop osition. The influences behind him would not have allowed it. The claim w-ould immediately have been made that the United States, France and In dia would not make a sufficiently strong combination. If all of Europe had agreed, excepting only England, it would still have been insisted that bi betallism could not be safely' under taken. The administration is abso lutely' committed to the gold standard and the probability- is that in 3900 there will be no effort at disguise. The only change of issue will be in its greater clearness and certainty. Mast Wear American Clothes. By order of the emperor of Korea the members of the Korean legation in Washington must hereafter wear cloth ing required by the custom of this country. Hitherto they have appeared in oriental garb.—N. Y. Sun. THE APOTHEOSIS OF DEBT. Coarse of the “Financiers” of Twen ty-Five Years Ago to Prevent Too Mueli Prosperity. In 1865 Hugh McCulloch, then secre tary of the treasury, reported the peo ple of the United States “practically out of debt.” This alarming statement created consternation everywhere. The outlook for the future of the coun try under such threatening conditions was appalling. It could not be denied that, under the circumstances then pre vailing. the people would not only keep out of debt but would soon become fore handed. Mr. McCulloch, himself, took a pessimistic view of the situation and made no hesitation in saying that if the financial condition then existing were allowed to continue, corruption of morals find other evil incidents to sol vency were inevitable. “Chilled by ap prehensions as to where such a drift might lead the nation,” Mr. McCulloch promptly took steps to avert the cer tain calamity too much wealth in the hands of “the ignorant and irresponsi ble masses” was sure eo bring about sooner or later. He began at once to contract the too redundant currency, which, as everybody knows, is always a “menace to prosperity.” This method of guarding against dis aster, was, however, resisted by many misguided people and it became appar ent that some other plan must be adopt ed to prevent accumulation by the “masses,” and to dissipate that at this juncture John Sherman, the financial oracle of the period, was called in for consultation. It did did not take him long to discover and point out the cause of all the trouble. It was plain to him that the farmers were getting too much for their crops. He demonstrated that for every SIOO worth of goods bought in foreign mar kets $l5O worth of American prod ucts was exported to pay for it. This left a “balance of trade” in favor of the United States of soo, which our customers were obliged to pay by shipping to this country that amount in gold. This was intolerable. If it went on it would plainly over whelm the country' with wealth, the burden of which it would be impossible to sustain. Some way must be found to obviate this appalling danger, by reducing the price of those products at least one half, in order to reverse these alarming conditions and to shift the “balance of trade” to the other side, or disaster was certain. It w-as plain that by reducing the price of the products of American farms 50 per cent, then for every SIOO worth of foreign goods bought, only $75 worth of those products would be esxported to pay for it and there would be a “balance of trade” of $25 against us to be paid in gold instead of SSO in our favor to be collected. This w r as bitter. This might be called the Sherman system of finance. Under this enlightened system was evident that flic farmer would not l,e able to raise produce at the price which would then obtain and the necessity for borrow ing money' could not be evaded. Soon everybody would be in debt and hap piness and prosperity assured. It was left to John Sherman to secure the necessary' legislation to bring about this ideal condition, and it was with this object that the “crime of 1873” was perpetrated. The act passed by' con gress fully accomplished the object in tended. It has brought the farmers and producers to their present enviable condition of hopeless and ever-increas ing debt, which seems to afford them so much gratification and pleasure. It is evident that they desire no change, for they continue to vote to maintain and perpetuate existing happy' conditions. STEPHEN BLACKFOOT. ABSURD GOLDITE CLAIMS. 51iere Would lie No Flood of Euro pean Silver if Oar Mints Were Opened. The opposition threatens us with a flood of European silver upon our re opened mints. We answer, Europe has no silver but her silver money'. Her silver money' values silver at from three to seven cents on the dollar high er than ours. Hence the European mer chant or banker must sacrifice from three to seven per cent, of his full legal tender money in order to recoin it at our mints. Europe’s silverware, like America’s silverware, carries in it the additional value of labor and the manu facturer’s profit. They' threaten us with a flood of silver from the far east. We answer that the course of silver is invariably eastward, and never toward the west. British India is a perpetual sink of silver, absorbing it, never to return, by from $30,000,000 to $60,000,000 worth every year. And India’s ab sorption of silver will be enlarged by the steadiness of the price of silver fixed by our reopened mints. They threaten us with a sudden retirement of $600,000,000 gold, with the accom panying panic, causing contraction. We answer that our total stock of gold, other than about $10,000,000 or $15,000,- 000 circulating on the Pacific coast, is already in retirement. Practically all our gold is in the United States treas ury or held by' banks. The gold in the treasury will remain there if the see cretary avails himself of his option to redeem United St.'ites notes in silver. The gold in the banks constitutes the quiet and undisturbed portion of their reserves against liabilities. It will con tinue to do money duty as such reserves after free coinage for silver is enacted. Hence a premium on it will not con tract the currency. The utmost pos sible contraction of the. currency will be the few millions circulating on the Pacific coast, and this would be retired, but slowly, if at all.—lllinois State Reg ister. Tlie Goldite Llnr. According to the goldites there is getting to be so much gold in the world and it is becoming so common that the people don’t want it, and yet they insist that the single gold stand ard shall be established. Is this “hon est?” Is it “right” to force upon the people such a common article as a legal tender for debts past, present and future? Os all the liars in the world the goldite liar is not only' the most interesting one, but the smooth est and most impudent. A LITTLE NONSENSE. “The leopard cannot change his spots!” “No, and one so quickly tires of loud patterns, too!”—Detroit Jour nal. “Bobbie,” said the visitor, “have you any brothers and sisters?” “Xo,”* re plied Bobbie, I’m all the children we’ve got.”—Cincinnati Enquirer. “Do you think strong drink shortens a man’s life?” “It may, but I never saw a toper who didn’t live out the full ness of his days.”—Philadelphia Bulle tin. Sunday School Teacher—“ Now, Willie Green, you may tell me what you un derstand by the ‘future state.’ ” Willie Green —“Please ma’am, it’s a terri tory.”—Catholic Standard and Times. Ethel —“I saw Count Hardupski last evening.” Cousin Tom—“ Does he talk as brokenly as ever?” Ethel—“My! yes. I heard him ask pa to loan him ten dollars before he left.”—Frank Leslie’s. “Didn’t you say' that five hours on the wheel would be enough to learn to ride?” “Oh, yes; but you must re member that you have spent most of the time on the ground.” Heitere Welt. Great Artist —“Now, some one has written a book in which he attempts to prove that all geniuses are insane.” Great Inventor —“The author of that book must be a genius himself.’’— Cleveland Leader. “John,” said Mrs. Hilkins, “I don’t believe Tom will ever marry. He is too bashful to ever propose to a woman.” “Oh, I don’t know ; he may' meet a young widow some day',” replied her husband.—Ohio State Journal. Krepps—“Who is the scared-looking little chap so completely under the in fluence of the big - woman?” Jligson— “That’s Sizboom. Got a brevet and a gold medal for daring work in the Phil ippines.”—Philadelphia North Ameri can. MRS. SCHLEY FOUGHT. Tlie Admiral’s Sympathetic Wile Went Through the Snntiugo Fight in Her Mind. During - her recent visit to this city' the wife of Admiral Schley said, in speaking of her leelings during the blockade of Santiago: “Os course, when the news of the battle came my heart stood still until 1 was assured my husband was unin jured. The latter followed so closely on the former that there was little time for fright. My next feeling was that of thankfulness that it was all over, for I felt that this would be the final blow to the Spanish navy. One gets used to facing danger for himself and those most interested partake in away of that confidence. It is said to be quite the ordinary' thought to one in battle that, no matter what happens to every body' else, he himself w ill come out un scathed. This is more or less true of those at home awaiting the result. You know it is no trouble to convince the watcher that a beloved one has es caped death, but very hard to make her realize that he has been injured or killed. 1 think 1 saw and heard that battle many times before it happened, and alway s my husband was safe and victorious. The description of those Spanish ships as they crept out of the harbor, the chase, their destruction and all were no news to me. I had im agined them so often. To me that seemed the inevitable ending, and it happened in the only' way it could. Whether it was the inequality in the fleets or not I do not know, but it did not seem to me that there would be great danger to our ships and men. I had great confidence in both, and you see it was not misplaced. The men on the Brookly n were splendid fellow s and the others were not behind them. “I think that women are so used to suffering in silence that it is usually re garded as a matter of course instead of heroism. There is, moreover, a be numbed feeling often mistaken for great courage or great heartlessness. What do 1 think of western people? Why', they' have been a revelation to me throughout my r whole trip. I have never seen more hospitable, lovely peo ple. One of the things that touched me most was the attention paid to ns by the school children. Everywhere we went the schools were dismissed and the pupils vied with each other in load ing ns with flowers and in other ways displaying their patriotism. They seemed to regard Mr. Schley' as a ‘good fellow.’ They did not conceal their ad miration of him as a representative of the United States navy. They' were so thoroughly' democratic. The ‘Hello Schley', give us a shake,’ from the boys on the street sounded very musical to me. The tone was that of one good comrade to another. You would have thought they had fought side by' side W'ith him. Their assumed proprietor ship in him was highly characteristic of the American boy and the American in stitution. “Perhaps the thing that pleased me more than anything else was our re ception by my r naval reserves. I call them my boys, for they seem as though they belong to me, especially those on the Brooklyn. I sincerely hope this will not be our last w estern visit. Why, we have just had a taste of western air and the freedom it inspires. No wonder westerners are loy'al and good fighters. They couldn’t be otherwise and breathe the air they do.” —Chicago Chronicle. Insanity Anions Half-Breeds. An incident of the civilization of the red man is that he is developing in sanity. just as white folks do, and therefore the government has bought 160 acres of land near Canton, S. D., whereon to build an asylum to accom modate all the insane Indians of the United States. Indian Commissioner Jones says, however, that there are no insane Indians of pure race. The in mates of the new asylum will be half breeds.—Chicago Inter Ocean. Family of Hnncins: Masters. The D’Egvilles, of London, have taught dancing since the days oi George 111. The present survivor de clares that dancing among the upper classes has degenerated into a vulgar romp. His principal work now is teach ing young women how to walk, how to enter a room and to coach them for presentation at court.—N. Y. World. His Experience. The Boy—l wouldn’t mind if we had another w ar wid somebody. The Man —You ain’t tliinkin’ of goin’ to the front, are you? “No; but there’s nothin’ like a war for sellin’ papers.”—Puck. GENTLENESS IN WAR. j A Singular Characteristic of Uie Samoaua—An Illustrative Incident. War is savage in its very nature, and. one looks for war among savages to tie peculiarly barbarous, ihat such is not aiways the case among the people of Samoa is attested by a letter sent from, Samoa by an American gentleman who. recently visited Apia, and whe gives a. description of Mataafa’s army in camp, after a battle between the rival claim ants to the throne, says Youth s Com panion. ‘We went all about among the huts where the savages were resting after* the battle and making preparations for the next fight. It was a very peaceful' scene, so” their arms were all concealed under the mats where the men set. and many of tb® soldiers were accompanies! by their wives and children. Ttiev w>ere amusing themselves by smoking and beating tom-toms. 1 lie Samoans are a most amiable race of savages, and white.people are al— ways perfectly safe among them. Everywhere we were greeted with* smiles and friendly nods and the saluta tion, 'lalofa,* which means ‘Love to you,’ from men, women and children. ‘One instance of their friendly feel ing occurred during the big battle. A white man, who lived in the street where they were fighting, saw that two-* of his horses had strayed out between the hostile lines. He did not want to* lose them, and he did not want to ven ture out in tlie line of fire. So he stuck a white flag out of his window. Upon seeing it. both chiefs ordered their men to stop firing, and hostilities were sus pended while the white man went out and drove his horses to a place of shel ter. Then the combatants went at it. again.” AFRICAN RIVERS. Eight Months Out of Twelve They Are Dry and Drifts of Sand Mark Their Course. It is a distinguishing feature of most African rivers that they contain no* water for at least eight months of the year. It is true that w ater can almost always be found in a river bed by dig ging for it, but in outward appearances a river is usually a broad belt of sand lying between high and precipitous banks. Many and many a coach has been upset in one of these drifts, as they are called. The descent is always steep, frequently so steep that the brakes cannot hold the coach, says Gentleman's Magazine. They start going down at a crawl, and then the coach gathers way and goes on w'ith a rush, the mules are driven into a heap anyhow, and one wonders that they do not get their legs broken; but they usually land all right, while the coach, practically unmanage able. goes down like a sort of toboggan,, jumping from stone to stone, and sway ing like a ship in a sudden squall, and may or may not arrive right side upper most at the bottom, in fact, the pas senger who has gathered his ideas of coaching from a trip to Brighton or a drive to Virginia Water, finds that he has a lot to learn about the subject when he gets tp South Africa. Still, on. the whole, it was wonderful how’few. accidents did occur, and if ohe consid ers that the coaches ran night and day, and that when there was no moon it would sometimes be too dark to see the mules from off the coach, it reflects great credit on the drivers. REBELLION RECORDS. Immense Cost and Stupendous Ex tent of This Account of tlie War. Up to June 30, 1308, the government had expended $2,610,021 in printing the official records of the union and con federate armies, and it is estimated by Public Printer Palmer that before the work is completed the total expendi ture will probably exceed $3,000,000. This is $1,000,600 more than the total amount appropriated by congress foi the erection of a new government print ing oiiiee, work on which will begii: within a few days. The "Rebellion Rec ords,” as the work is called, is probably the most stupendous publication eve* attempted, the series comprising 111 columes, averaging 1,000 pages each, and the final edition will be 1,298,700 separate volumes. The first copy was sent to the public printer August 24 ISBO, and it is doubtful if the work wilt be entirely completed by the same date next y-ear. ELECTRICAL NOTES. Berlin is telephonically connected with 435 other cities. The City of Mexico is now lighted by' 600 arc lights, most of which are of 2,000-candle power. Electricty has supplanted steam on the railroad from Milan to Monza, the oldest railroad in Italy, opened for traf fic in IS4O. Storage batteries are used,, the electricity being obtained from the* turbines on the Adda at Paderno. Confession of a Millionaire. A millionaire confessed the secret of his success in two words—hard work. He said he put in the best part of his life in gaining dollars and losing health, and now he was putting in the other half in spending dollars to get back health. Nothing equals Hostet ter’s Stomach Bitters for restoring health to the overtired body and brain. It gets at the starting point—the stomach—and over comes nervousness, sleeplessness, dyspepsia and indigestion. In the New West. In a few years the people out west will be engaged in lynching the automobi.e thieves —Washington Post. “Durability is Better Than Show” The wealth of the multi-millionaires < is not equal to good health. Riches without health are a curse, and yet the ’ rich, the middle classes and the poor alike have, in Hood’s Sarsaparilla, a ; valuable assistant in getting and ~ maintaining perfect health. ‘ | >|i|>ltttt < > » 1 I 1 t t t §3 Best Cough Syrup. Tastes Good. Use pg| W In time. Sold by druggists. gs