Newspaper Page Text
k-hTAHI.ISHEDIB.IO. J
(j H EBTILL, Editor ana Froprietor.l
■ gii-ls.
I y rm , tU Pi.il uUU'KiaTirv*.
I . |i ia t arc wanted are good girls,
■w *r „ tlic heart to the UpsS
■ GW. f t r hßUlv 14 white anti ture
■T” 10 ,u s ' ,vccl 1
I t hi arc wanted are home girls,
mJtner’4 right ham!.
■ hai.4 that aic |t |)rothcrs ( , a „ trust to,
■wjjVae nine ones understand.
, .., fair on the hcJ*.rth^tonc%
itiSissKS/Sr"
BVcaSy aud anxious to please.
I, , irU lh at are urantcrt nre wise tfirU.
■ l'.c t ir • w | la t to (to ml to sav,
■Jb'crivewlth a eii'.Ueor sort word
B T l*le wrath o; the household away.
|tvgirls that arc wanted arc girls of sense.
1‘ n’ini fashion can never ilcoo.ve,
■who ran hnlotv whatever w pretty,
■ ABl j dare what is sol? 10 lulVo
- are wanted nre careful girls,
T r ou. what a thing will cost;
wtusc with a prudeni, generous hand,
Ituixee that nothing is lost.
Tie girls that are wanted are girl* with
Thar o are wanted for mothers and wives;
Wanted in cradle in loving arms
Xas strongest and fraucst of lives,
n %-,t, the witty, the brildant girl,
i hev are very few, understand;
iv- ,ii' for lhe wise, loving liomc g irl3
There’s a constant and steady demand.
ON THE GEORGES BANKS
AN IDYL OF IHE SEA.
BY J. H. CONNELLY.
1 Cojpyrijhled ISS7 . ]
No. It’s no use, Reuben. I won’t have
It. You are a very deeeut, iikelv young
fellow and some day may be worth some
thing. but you are not now, and so being
as you’re not, there’s no use in your talk
ing of marrying Elsie.”
“] suppose you think young Menuse,
the shopkeeper's son, would be a better
match lor her,” replied the young man,
hitteriy.
“Well, 1 don’t say as he would or
would not, lor that isn’t the question.
The point at present is about you, and l
tell you, Reuben, though I’ve got no hard
feelings against you, that it won’t do.”
“I’m sure 1 can earn a good living for
us both.”
“if you keep your health and strength,
why probably you can live along from
hand to mouth, but who will insure the
lives of us Gloucester fisbermeu for even
a day when we are out on the Georges.
Where’s my boy Jack ? Under the waves
on the Georges. Where’s your cousin
L>an* Under the waves on the Georges.
How many more strong, brave, line young
men, some of thorn witn wives and little
ones dependent on them, do we both re
ran who are under the waves on the
Georges, And what would become of
Klsieasapoor fisherman’s widow, with
BiaybeachUd or two to take care of. ‘You
would take her home again and provide
for hr and them,’ thinks you. Well, 1
don’t Bay I wouldn’t; but it ain’t fair to
smother the light of her young ltfe with
sorrow and care. No, Reuben; it won’t
do. To tell you the ulain truth, J don’t
I want her to marry a man that livte by the
Lsc. It’s too uncertain a life.’’
“Well, let’s wait awhile before settling
Let’s waft for three years and bv
lime I’ll have something saved up.”
I'm no believer in long engageinenls.
You’d both be growing older all
■ lime. You might change your no
■ Never!”
Of course you wouldn’t. I’ve no
you think so. Young men are al
■y” sure of what’s on the unturned
■•ye* Of the book of Kate. Hut, come
B> h en, there’s no more use arguing
■jutlt. Consider the matter settled and
■ r-® It like a man. Don’t think anv more
■W ut Elsie and you’ll soon get over it
■ ! e hard feelings, l hope, hut 1 can’t help
■ (f there are. I’m doiag what’* best for
■ ti\”
■ “Youdisarm me when you speak in lhat
■bay, Capt. Thorne. Heaven knows I
■want what’s best for her as much as you
rao, hut I’m not convinced that she would
be happier with a rich landsman you
picked out for her than she would be with
a poor sailor that she bad oicked out for
herself.”
The two men shook hands, the elder re
peattng:
RmVa* Hard feelings between us, 1 hope.
k* s n 11 , 8 “ for the H OBI - Good-by
ueub. Don’t come around Elsie anv
tnore, and you’ll both get over your fancy
before 1002/* J
wima!r n Di * ll silently shook his head and
SOH “ y ;. He ,olt ai( he wanted 10
ndt ? i:i,ul<! u °t hear to be seen doing
- ®" Elsie’s account. There
f<T>v nt -ii l \?. rU r *' l,n *fB,” for the crush-
I m L. | hls and hope could
22d nenaff” eff " otw * in 14 nwro kindly
Diomer t n, e ,M eWay ’ But > JU*t for the
aci ni 11 ’ n lhin * Be omed to him to bo of
any use any more.”
$/*•&
l " I!<!• WAIT EOF. YOU, KKUBKN.”
u, or’Vi;'°“” Thorn '* llß ow uer and mas
ri|"’ e P ' Hh - H “1,0
bomes'i J *-‘® a rather good
Ann—am? ** ji' ,n go a bout (Jape
i.shares i., lt o~' *? Rle .[’ r ‘‘ u y profitable
f't.i V n.„v a,,;: ; Bn o!l nnufficturlng
■ou? 11 t<> at, altogether, be auquite
Kre we ll ,4nT ***•• hair and hoard
■I rkc,i vliv Z a^ 1, 'l*itugray. Buthe had
3h0(.,l beLo'Vn ,0r ! l * ll,for Bonn liln
V*"™* lire of ; U ( r V , " and ,h< ’ l >,tr * lnu " and
/araa.o M.f , (,1 °Beo*ter fisherman.
o m or whom he
‘.Ank narf L 1 ’ entoul t 0 the Georg-s
Wr w“ .itoV TANARUS" no mor< *- Then his
W-edavia te a r ‘, OD,t ** ,n,n tor tier boy,
"°' V . all tljal ®lt
7fe tor I*a*youn 1 *a*y oun W oo h , ar i a wa * ,llp nf
*>n the hu % ban if* a*!I! *l* dp Phd6nt sololy
.•Übrnman for lie r"rt n i, n * H V “ ••‘tor and
together, aidhi > Mwrr 11 touch' It
'-I '"lid i-o through*?* 1 tUat
Reuben strode moodily along, with his
hands deep in his pockets, his hat down
over his eyes, and but dimly conscious
that he was going in the direction of the
wharf and from there on out to the
Georges—where he might just as well bo
under the waves as on them—when a lit
tle hand was laid on his arm, and the
sweetest voice In the world, as it seemed
to him, said tn a tone of playful reproach:
“Why, Reuben! You would pass me
without even speaking, would you?’’
He raised his eyes to her dear face and
replied, chokingly:
“That’s what your father says I must.”
The girl started, as if she had received
a blow, and turned pale. For a moment
both were silent. Then Reuben asked, in
a tone of appeal and tenderness that
went straight to her heart;
••And what do you say, Elsie?”
“Just what I have said to you before,
Reuben,” she replied promptly and firmly,
with the flush coming back to her cheeks
and deepening there, “that I love you and
will never love anybody else.”
“And you’il wait for me to get a little
ahead in the world, won’t you, Elsie?”
“1 will wait, not for a little, but as long
as need be, not lor you to get ahead, but
lor poor, dear, obstinaio old papa to
change his mind and say ‘yes.’ ”
And so it was settled betweeu them,
with much more of lovers’ talk and
pledges and waking dreams of the future
that it is uot necessary to recapitulate,
for they were the same in their essence
as those that lovers have been thinking,
writing, saying, sighing and singing
since love began.
And when, the next morning, Reuben
sailud away lor those deadly banks that
are so olten and aptly characterized as
“Gloucester’s Graveyard,” he went with
a much lighter and more hopeful heart
than upon the preceding evening he<
thought he would ever have again. He
sailed on the schooner Sam Johnson, so
named in honor of himself by Capt.
Samuel Johnson, who buT. her, and from
whom her present skipper—Reuben’s
oousin—Capt. Johnathan Dali, pur
chased her.
The captains along the Massachusetts
coast are rnauy. Reuben hoped to be one
of them some day. Indeed, alter that
parting interview with Elsie, he lelt that
it was quite impossible that he should
not be ono right speedily. Hut the way
to a skipper’s position by the line of pro
motion upon whica he was started is, as
he well knew, along and hard one. Se
vere toil and small gains, privation and
exposure in a plaoe where death baits his
trap with men’s daily bread, such would
have to be the ordeaU through which he
would have to pass to win his captaincy
and Elsie.
On the Georges Hanks, even in the
calmest weather, the ground swell is very
great, angry chopping seas are frequent,
aud in storms the tossing of the gigantic
billows becomes terrific. But the waves
must run “mountain high” to deter the
hardy fisherman irom going out in his
frail “dory” to lay down his trawls—long
lines carrying hundreds of baited books,
disposed at short distances along them—
or to tase them up weighted with their
heavy catch of ood and halibut. This is
winter work. The cold is enough to chill
the marrow in one’s bones, the toil is
mercilessly hard, and it is all done undor
the shadow ot death.
Ofteu when the fisherman is out in his
“dory,” beyond hail of his vessel, a heavy
fog settles down over everything, a vapor
ous pal), so thick that it deadens not
sight only but sound also. It is a white
darkness, so impenetrable as to be a bar
rier even to hope. The doomed man
caught out in it is likely to lose wholly his
sense of direction. He shouts until his
lips are parched and his throat dry, in
vain expectation of hearing some guiding
response irom a vessel; he rows, until his
bloodshot eyes are starting from their
sockets and his muscles be
oome powerless, in futile search
for the vessel he may see no
more; farther and farther the cruel
fate lhat sports with his agony lures him
out on the waste of waters, from which he
comes back never again. Or, perchance,
in the night, a sudden storm springs up
aud the fishing smacks drag their
anchors, for the ground is not good there
for holding, and when morning dawns
again, two of them, with all the lives
aboard, are missing. Hurled together t.y
the waves they have crushed each other
like egg shells, and the despairing death
cries of their victims have been unheard,
in the shriekings of the gale, by any hu
man ears, their struggles unseen save
by the All Fowerlul, who sees and saves
not.
Tint shipper filled bis pirs.
Anil there is somethin* even yet moro
dreadful when an iron-browed doatb,
obeying the behests of follow-men, leaps
out cf the obscurity of the log of the
night upon a slumbering ore.v. as a
hungry ligor might pounce upon unsus
pecting prey.
A fortnight later thnn bis telling Reu,-
)>en Dali that "it wouldn’t do,” (.’apt.
John Thorne, out on the Georges Hanks,
came upon the deck of the Flying Fish
one night to stand the second watch. The
wind was strong, but steady from the
southeast, and there were uo indications
of its freshening dangerously; the air
wasraiher warm lor the season, and the
stars were shilling. Three cable lengths
awav the Sam Johnson bobbed serenely
on lie crests ot the waves, and beyond
laid two other Gloucester neighbors, in
the same relative pooltlons they had oo
oocupied in the aiternoon; so Capt.
I herne knew that bin auohor was hold
ing well.
With a sense of rostfuines* and pros
ent security at least the skipper sat him
down on the deck In the lee of the main
mast, his best aviulahle sholter from the
wind,ar.dfell tofUling bis pipe. Then he
lighted it with a match at the first trial In
the leeth of the wind—the ability to do
which ia doubtless a special gift of I’rovi
denoe to men ol the sea und bestowed
upon few landsmen. I,caning buck against
the mast arid puffing an aromatic cloud,
he looked over toward the Ham Johnson
and thought of Keubelt l)all and Flute.
Homehow he felt leas satislied with his at
mule toward the young lover* than ho
bad when he told Kouben that “it
wouldn’t do.” Perhaps he had not taken
the hast mode to Insure Flue's happinei-a
after all. Certainly she hail never belore
been so sad. listless and red-eyed as
ulnou then. Would she “get over It?”
SAVANNAH, SUNDAY, MARCH 27, 1887 —'TWELVE PAGES.
Was it reflection or memory that love is
a great deal to the young? Suppose he
should go off on another tack and simply
require the young folks to wait a while.
One of the two things would be likely to
bappeu: Either Reuben would “get
ahead”—a* the Captain frankly admitted
to himself the young fellow deserved to
—or he would go down where Jack and
Dan wore, and oither way the matter
would be settled.
And the weary man settled down more
cozilv lu his seat, braced against the
mast, the pipe dropped unheeded from
his mouth to the deck, and he imagined
that he continued thinking, while the
fact was thathe was only dreaming. And
his mind’s eye saw ins darling Elsie a
matron, sitting in ruddy firelight that he
somehow knew was her home; a chubby
little toddler —strong, and golden-haired
and blue-eyed, as boy Jack once looked—
stood at her knee, pillowing his curls
upon her lap and learning to lisp “g’an
pa,” and Reuben ©all was in the picture
too, with his strong right hand laid caress
ingly on Elsie’s shoulder as hecalledher
“wife,” and she looked up at him with the
love light in her eyes like that he saw iu
Marv’slong ago.
Tli’e witi'l veered around to the north
east, growing colder and stronger; in the
chopping sea that soon arose the Flying
Fish tugged and strained at her anchor
like a mad, living thing in leash, the hu
mid air grew so thick with fog that the
feebie light of the lantern dancing in the
rigging could hardly be seen across the
deck, and still the s’klpper slept on and
dreamed happy drearasof homo and love.
Had be been awake he would have
heard, at intervals, coming nearer and
nearer, low-pitched, hoarse, melanchoh
roars, and between them the sound o;
some great tiling rushing through the
waves, beating them down and breathing
so hard with its exertions that the rising
gale seemed to pulsate with theimpufseof
its respirations. Had he been awake, he
would have seen suddenly glaring upon
him out of the fog two huge eyes, one red,
the other green, aud between them, tow
ering up terrifically high into the dome of
night, looming over him and coming
swift upon him, an enormous something
like a sharp-edged, black, iron mountain
—the stem of a steamship. And then-he
would have known no more than he did
when all this came upon him in his sleep,
until he found himself deep down in the
water, instinctively battling tor his life.
As he reached the surface some bit of
wreckage floating—all that was left ot
the unfortunate Flying Fish —struck
against him violently, almost stunning
him. but he clutched it, held on manfully,
supporting himself by it, and snouted for
help.
Too steamship that had run bis vessel
down was already swallowed up in the
fog. Her speed had not slackened. Per
haps those aboard her were all uncon
scious that their mighty engine of de
struction had sent six more brave men
down to rest beneath the waves on the
Georges and left one flghting with the
cruel billows for his life. Would they
have stopped to succor him if they had
known? Doubtful. Certain lines ot
transatlantic steamships habitually cross
the Georges Banks. It is the direct
course laid down for them. If the fisher
men will get in the way, why, of oourse
thev must suffer. And they do so often
that it is an old story. Sometimes a pas
sengersays at breakfast:
“I was wakeful last night, aud it
seemed to me. Captain, that at one time
I felt a jar, as if we hail met some slight
obstruction, and that 1 heard a shriek.”
“Oh! dear! No, madam,” replies the
smiling Captain, “if anything of the
Kind had occurred it would have been re
ported to me. It was only the shock of a
heavy wave that you felt; only the voice
of the wind that you heard.”
But far in their wake that night the
affrighted gulls screamed to each other
that the sound was -‘the bubbling cry ot
some strong swimmer in his agony.”
kind hands laid him on a vessel’s
DECK.
The next thing Capt. Thorne know he
was In a “dory,” and somebody was
wrapping a pea jacket about him. At
least that is what he thought was going
on, though he was not very sura about
anything at the moment. Perhaps—he
thought—bo was dead, and before getting
used to being so was just thinking of
what might have been. But then his
scattered senses began coming back to
him in recognizable form aa his own.
There could be no question about the red
light burning upon some deck; the san
guinary tint came like a blush through
the fog, and the halls and reponees be
tween some person in the dory with him
and some other person still invisible in
that rosy luminosity were undoubted)}
real; and the rough clutch of strong
hands in frieediy haste that hustled him
up on a vessel’s deck quite brought him
to himself again. And then, when be
knew that he alone of all thejm-n on the
little smack had been saved, he quite
broke down and wept like a woman.
Sar and by Heuneii Dali? Oh, no! Not
at all! That might have been mure ro
mantic, but It didn’t happen To be the
fact. The man wno saved him was a
sturdy skipper, ns grizzled as himself,
fattier ol a lamily ol grown boys and
girls in Gloucester. But the result, so
far as the young people
was quite as go- and, tor reached
home again his dreams came back to him,
crystallized into waking thought and
purpose.
A (’ostmastei’s Pathetic Appeal.
from t/i* Waeliingt n Poet.
A postmaster at a very small office in
Mlobigan, desiring to be relieved of the
arduous duties thereof, beseeches the De
partment, in the following bcart-rauUmg
language, to relievo him:
“When does ray sentence expire? It
can’t be that 1 am doomed lor liie unless
I Hud a Pythias to take my place. Twice
have 1 resigned, but the felon might as
well try to shake oil’ his letters, as silent
contempt has been the fate of my epistles.
Ou, please, good Mister P. M.Geu’l, let
me go. and 1 promise never to do so again.
1 will never sign another petition to start
a p. o. oil Cross Roads if my name figures
as its master. Besides, I uin an offensive
partisan and really should be llrcd, tor I
made campaign speeches and am liable
to do so again. I shall watch the incom
ing malls with eager eye, noping against
hone that uiy purdou may come and set
me free. • !’• M.”
Several small combs are worn in the
hair instead of ono good-sued one, and
tbov are tucked in apparently at random.
EYES THAT SPEAK AGAIN
WOMEN l\ NEW YORK WHO
FLIRT WITH STRANGERS.
Tils Agony that the Escort Knilures —An
Incident at, Deimonlco’s—Ladle* lu
Other Cities Who Think Nothing of a
Quiet Street, Flirtation—Mashers Not
Men of Pronounced Physical Attrac
tions,
Nkw York. March 26. —It would be
difficult to find a more thoroughly miser
ableman than the one who is abroad with
a beautiful girl and who is conscious that
ehe is making eyes at other men. It goes
without saying, of course, that any
woman who will flirt with strangers in
ever so slight a degree is under bred, vul
gar and ooarse, but, besides all this, she
is monstrously cruel, for the agony she
Inflicts upon ihe unhappy wight who
chances to be her escort is not only
palpable, but cruel iu the extreme,
ior the man invariably shows his
utter agony to the most careless of ob
servers.
BHK HAD BIG BLACK EYKS.
On Thursday afternoon at Dalmonioo*
a broad-shouldered and pleusaot-lookmg
man in fashionable attire, with a pair
of frank gray eyes and a ruddy color,
stroliod in with a strikingly handsome
girl; he eat down near a window. Bhe
had nig black eyes, and before she seated
herself she rolled them around the res
taurant in a careless but observant (ash
ion that convinced me that the man was
in for it at once. And he was in for it
with a vengeance. There are few girls
with big black eyes who can afford to look
around a room where men are sitting
without appearing to do it for effect. In
a minut • after the Dclmonico girl had
taken her seat every eye w.ithin range
was fixed upon her, and she chatted and
smirked alter a fashion that was all too
familiar even in a city like New York,
where there is less public flirting on the
part of women, as fara my own observa
tion goes, than a;.y other oiD lu thu Union,
excepting New Orleans. The man who
was with her was not conscious at firs’
of the sly look and bold stares which she
cast around, for though her eyes spoke,
she did not smile, nor bestow too much
attention in one quarter. The escort
seemed to be having rather a pleasan’
time up to the point where his suspicions
were aroused, and then by degrees lie be
came the most abjectly miserable crea
•ture I have ever seen. First be looked
around uneasily, tnen sullenly and finally
resentfully. But he was dealing with
rather a cultivated lot ot men at that sort
of thing, and they all of them stared al
him coldly or were apparently looking
over his head. Then he became surly and
answered the woman snappishly, while
she went on with her brilliant series of
glances. Presently she looked out ot (be
window aud a masher who was strolling
idly by caught the look that she threw at
aim and stopped abruptly in his walk and
stared back. Apparently he was uot the
mau 10 allow anything of that sort to go
by him, and he stood looking at her mean
ingly a moment before passing on. The
little performance brought the broad
shouldered escort of the woman to his feet
with pale face and shorten U breath. It
he could have got at the masher without
going four or five hundred teet in a round
about wav he would undoubtedly have
thrashed him. As it was he looked around
for a moment with the full consciousness
' that he was making what Is called “a
show” of himself, aud then said 9bortly to
the giri:
“Come, we’ll get out of this.”
“Wby,” she whined, “I haven’t finished
my ice yet ?”
“Never mind, come along,” he said
sharply.
“Well,” said the woman in an Injured
tons as she cast, her big black eyes on the
plate and displayed a tendency’ to whim
per, "if you want to insult me in a public
place like this you can do so, hut I
think you might at least wait until 1 get
my coat on or uotil you have paid toe
bill.”
“Damn the bill!” said the man hotly,
“where’s the waiter?”
NO OTHER OCCUPATION IN LIFE.
lie looked wildly around, hut the waiter
was gelling tbo check ma le out at the
further end of the room, so be sank back
jn his chair while the .woman tried to
struggle into her tight little jacket. There
is no doubt that the escort would have
helped her, or the waiter would have
given her a-hand, but both of them were
looking in opposite directions, and so a
contiguous inasbor arose and performed
the office with deftuess and charming
ease while the escort sat and glowered at
hlu. There was a long wait for tbs
change, und finally the pair walked out,
the woman oying the men on every side
as she strolled along, and the man with
his hands rammed Into his pockets, his
brows bent, the plcturo of abject misery
and misfortune, and yet 1 would wager
a hat that uo better fellow nor
oharming companion could be found In
ttio town than he. Alas tor the woman
who flirts.
It is curious that women who are
naturally considerate and kindly In their
treatment of msii should descend to euoh
schemes as these, but that they do must
have been observ' and by the most obtuse ol
ineu. The resson there Is little of what
is known aa street flirtation In New York
Is ou account of tbo sullied oonvictlau*
concerning that particular form of un
derbred vice. It is not a pleasant thing
1 1 say, but it is unquestionably true, that
many women of entire respectability and
good social position in some cities of the
I’uion think nothing of a quiet Btreet
lliriation. It is a sort of lark
with them and nothing more
It is vastly different in New
York. A woman who flirts in the street
here, in ever so slight a degree, is set
down at once as of loose and disreputable
character, and though there is as much
eying and smirking in public places aw
elsewhere, it is exceedingly circumspect
and cautious, for a woman can never pass
a street, flirtation off here as a harmless
escapade. 1 suppose New York is the
only city in the country that has a recog
nized, well-drossed and apparently
well-organized band of mashers. I know
dozen nnd dozens of men by sight who
have no other occupation in life than the
pursuit of women. These are the mash
ers pure and simple, and they are not, to
be confounded with the aotors who are
abroad lor their midday walks, the gam
blers who parade Broadway, or the young
club meD of leisure who cast a critical
eve at womankind in general on their way
up and down Fifth avenue. The men 1
refer to never pay the slight
est attention to anything else
but the subjection of the
feminine heart. They arise about 11 and
repair to Deimonico’s, the Brunswick or
some other well-known restaurant, where
tbev spend two hours or more over
their breakfast. They always sit
iu the ladies’ restaurant and they
A CONTIGUOUS MASHKK PERFORMED THF
OFFICE WITH DKFTNKBS.
are as well known to the patrons of the
place as the waiters themselves. Asa
rule they are not men of prononuoed
physical attractions, and they dress
quietly and unostentatiously. They
spend their money liberally, and their
success is entirely due to the sort of n
reputation that such men get among
women. Every one has some sort of claim
to celebrity, i’hls quiet little man with
the scar across his forehead and the
alert eye which he moves from face to
face as he takes his seat in his favorite
restaurant was shot in a duel iu Panama
two years ago; the sallow and austere
masher who sits opposite him figured as
the co-respondent in a celebrated divorce
suit; another has gained a reputation as
a spendthrift by throwing half a million
dollars to the dogs in the course of two
years, and so on interminably. Every
masher has bis story, and the women
chatter and talk about them all with
ceaseless in rerest. They are an unhappy
looking lot of wretches, and perhaps ihe
most despicable body of men on the lace
of the earth; for who can adnine a man
whodoes nothing in life but eat. and drink
and whose only ambition is to destroy the
happiness of other and abler men who
work for their living down town and do
not attempt to stab their friends behind
their backs.
New York could well spare tho dreary
crew of prigs aud pups who glory in the
title of mashers. Blakely Hall.
My Don Jack.
From St. Nicholas for March.
One of the officers of the post hart ten
ora dozen largo greyhounds. Notwith
>mndiug its size the greyhound, wbeD
alone, is an arrant coward, unless cor
nered ; then it becomes a dangerous ati
(agonist.
.Jack was a coward, too, but he knew
by instinct that a single greyhound was
even a greater coward than himself; and
wuenoneof the hounds would stroll alone
by the bouse, it was ludicrous to see th
little scamp rush out quivering with ex
citement and barking as it he would eat
Mr. Greyhound. Invariably the grey
hound would turn tail and run. Jack
would follow a few steps and then return
with a look In his face which plainly said,
“Did you ever see such a coward?”
Hut one day Jack was taking a walk
with me on the parade ground down to
ward the lake anil some distance from the
house. All at once the whole paok ol
hounds, as if urged by one common im
milse to get even with him lor the indig
,Wiles be had heaped upon them singly,
started in a body tor jack. At first ho
did not notice them, but when he did, in
stead of coming to me for protection, he
turned and struck out lor home in the
usual manner, with his tail between bis
logs and wlih the usual accompaniment
of howls. How he did run! He wan
running this time for bis life, and be
knew it. Ho looked like a tiny yellow
speck as he scampered toward the house
The pack of bounds keeping well together
gained on him at every jump. Twice I
thought they had him and nail turned
away my bead; but, no! be doubWd on
them and fairly (low in another direction.
The bounds could not turn as quickly as
he could and fell overone another in their
attempts to do so. As Jack reached the
terrace In front of the quarters he flew
into the house through the open door,safe!
The door was closed hv tny wile —who had
been wutchlng tho desperate race—just,
mb the bounds met in a body over a hoy’s
straw hat that was lying upon the grass
before the door. In about two seconds
there was nothing left of that bet; it whs
torn Into rinbons before they found out it
wasn’t Jack, after all! Hut trom that
time, Jack was not on speaking terms
with any ol those hounds.
How lie Would liiko It.
From tit Wathingtm Star.
One of the features of the Wbito House
reception yesterday afternoon was the
presentation to the I’resident of a book on
the election of the President directly by a
popular vote. The author, Dr. Thomas
Darlington Ingram, who has oorno to
Washington to reside temporarily, kept
in the background until the crowd had
departed. Ti.eti, hook in band, be walked
up to the President, made a brief speech
explaining its contents and begged the
President to accept it. .Mr. Cleveland
apparently thought at first that he was
at the meroy ot a bold, bad book agent,
and looked relieved when he found out
his mistake. “It is a subject lam much
interested in.” be said, “and I should
like to be elected in the manner you
mention.”
"Then you will look at the book at your
leisure?” queried the delighted author.
"Icertaluly will.” replied tho Presi
dent, as be hugged the little volume
under bis left arm.
FOOD FOR REFLECTION.
Tho Evanescence ol' Political Pow -
cr ami Popularity Demonstrated.
From th K&w York World .
On the fiftieth anniversary of his birth,
President Cleveland found himself occu
nylng the most prominent position in
public Hfe in the United States. Ho is
the observed of ail observers, and there
is no other in the laud wbe is so deferred
to. His reflections on arriving at the
present important milestone in his life
must be of an agreeable nature, and it
will be strange if he can avoid speculat
ing on wbat the future may have in store
for him. "Why should the spirit of mor
tal be proud?” was tho favorite poetic
query of his immortal predecessor, Lin
coln, whose life wasout off at the sum
mit of its career, and echo answers,
“Why?” How many are there still liv
ing who have been prominently in£ue
foreground, and are now soarelv heard
of!
But a lew years ago the whale ’nntiou
waited to see the direction of the pe>n
stroke of Rutherford B. Hayes. Then he
sat in the White House. Now he pre
sides over a chicken farm somewhere iu
Northern Ohio, and there Is little more
than a gleam of recognition In the mind
of the reader when his name appears in a
newspaper, which is not often. The tact
that he is the only ex-President alive
does not save him Irom almost complete
oblivion.
It is not long since Secretary Robeson
was a prominent individual and udispen
ser of influence and public dollars. But
it is red-letter day lor him when his
name is published a* a guest at some big
banquet.
GoorgeS. Boutwell, for many years an
influential member of the House of Repre
sentatives, Secretary of the Treasury
and a leading man in the nation generally
during Grant’s administration, is now
quietly practicing law.
T. W Ferry, Senator from Michigan,
once Acting Vice President ot the United
Slates, is operating saw mills.
N. P. Banks, elected Speaker of the
House ot Representatives iu the most
memorable election ever held iu that
body, prominent Republican candidate
for President in 1800, Major General in
the war. Governor of Massachusetts, Is
uow a local Unjiod States Marshal.
Carl Scburz, Secretary of tue Interior
under Hayes, Senator and Major General,
is now a retired and rarely mentioned
citizen.
Hamilton Fish, Governor ami Secretary
of State, has entirely passed trom tho po
litical stage.
Benjamin H. Bristow, Secretary of the
in usury, prominent Republican candi
date for the Presidency, is unostenta
tiously practicing law.
ltoscoe Conkllug, than whom the Senate
once possessed no more distinguished
member, is accumulating a lortune at the
bar.
Edwards Pierrepont. Attorney General,
Minister to England, is now a lawyer in
private practice.
Benjamin H. Brewster, Attorney Gene
ral, is similarly employed.
Alption-m I'aft, Attorney General, Sec
retary ot War, has retired generally from
public notice.
Hugh McCulloch, the distinguished
Secretary of the Treasury of the Johnson
period, is engaged In private business.
Samuel ,J. Kirkwood, Senator. Secre
tary of the Interior, has passed out ot the
public mind.
Elihu B. Wasbburne. Representative,
“Watchdog of tlie Treasury,” beorotnrv
of Stats, Minister to France, pioposi/d
Republican candidate lor President, is
w titling away the lime writing maguziue
articles.
Richard W. Thompson, Congressman,
Secretary of the Navy, ts now an Ameri
can figurehead for He Lessepa.
Attorney General Williams has dropped
wholly beneath the surface.
W. W. Belknap, Secretary ot War, has
similarly disappeared.
Gen. It. C. Scbenck, Congressman,
Major General, Minister to England, leads
a ipiiet and retired existence.
J. A. Creswell, Postmaster General,
Congressman, is now rarelv neard of.
William Windom, Senator, Secretary ol
the Treasury, has passed out of public
notice.
William E. Chandler, Congressman,
Secretary of the Navy, 'and active politi
cal manager, has been relegated to a quiet
life.
William A. Wheoler, Coneressmtui,
Vice President, Is living in retirement.
Hannibal Hamlin, ltepresentati ve, Sen
ator, Governor, Vice President under
Lincoln, is out of public life.
James M. Astiloy, Congressman and
prominent Abolition Republican,has been
a longtime out of office.
John B. Henderson, Senator, ts practic
ing law in St. Louis.
Senators Ross and Pomeroy, of Kansas,
are equally removed Irom the public gaze.
Columbus Holano, Secretary of the In
terior, has been a private citizen tor years.
J. Warren Keifer, Speaker of the House
of Representatives, has been wholly re
tired, and is not now even considered
eligible for tho delivery ot a
address.
Ignatius Donnelly. Senators Thurman
and McDonald, Gov. lloadly and many
o'h> rs will occur, upon calling upon the
memory, as instances of merf now living
who have withdrawn from public life.
Still another retired statesman, who
need not be commented on, is Jefl'jraon
Davis.
Perhaps the only exception to tho list
of retired public men. In the matter of
power and influence, la Simon Csmuron.
He appears to manage things from his
private residence about as well as he did
from the Senate or the War Department.
Thus do |iower and position, like rlohes,
have wings. Some of these retirements
represent honorable defeat, some volun
tary decisions, some wrecked ambition
merely, and some are rebukes for corrup
tion. But they all serve to show the un
certainty of political careers and the
readiness with which men are forgotten
in this fast-moving country,
A Peculiar Young Man.
WaeMngfon Letter to the Hinton Traveller.
The dashing son of a distinguished Southern
Senator is among tho missing. Having left a
cloud of debts behind bun which will keep his
memory green for sonic tune at least in the
minds of Ins numerous Washington creditors.
IBs greatest exploit was at the expense of a
famous st. I .mils nolle who lias been dazzling
tho ejesof society hero. One day tho young
man met the belle on tho street and playfully
grabbed her pocket-book. She didn’t mind
Bus much, but when he opened it and look
out a |IO note she began to wonder whulhcr It
was all a joke or not. She
ordered him to return it at
once, but to lior surprise the Scnatori 1
hopeful replied that he would see her later.
Perhaps he will, hut he hasn’t yet. The tel
lew utter securing the money, called upon a
young lady, who was a friend of the St.
Isons holle, and invited hor out to dine with
him. Not knowing, perhaps, the preceding
fads, she accepted, and find u good dinner,
shortly after this episode the town began to
grow rather sultry for the young man, and he
paukod up his baggage and left. He hasn’t
shown his heail here since, and the chuueos
are that he will steer clear ol this town tor
some time to come.
(PPICK *lO A TKAF.I
j 3 CENTS A COPY.)
HOW “BEN HIT It” WAS WHITTEN.
Gen. Lew Wallace Confesses Its De
scription was Based on Boohs.
Gen. Lew Wallace is a man of fine
presence, with a military bearing from
which the usual stillness of tho drill has
uover been able to obliterate the natural
grace. His hair is very slightly gray,
and a lock of it falls carelessly on a mas
sive forehead, which shelves slightly over
eyes large, black, and seeming to see into
the very centre of things. His pointed
board and heavy mustache are peculiarly
adapted to his style or face, with its
cloar-cut nose, hair Grecian andebalf
Roman. W. A CrotTutt talked with him
in Washington the other day, and tells
in the Post, all about it. In reply to i
question as to whether he had named his
new bo k vet, be replied:
“Ot course not. The book will name
iisett when completed. W e give the name
to the book, not. the book to the name,
One would never think of naming a baby
beforo its birth, for if ho gave it a boy’s
name It might lie born a girl, you know,
and vice versa.”
••Speaking of your book,” said Croffutt,
“had you eve: visited the Holy Land be
fore you wrote 'Ben Hur?’ ”
“No; I never saw Syria till after tbo
book w as completed.” *
“Why. how could you write such a book
with nothing lor a foundation? 1 should
think you would make endless ms
tukea.”
■ “1 did have a foundation, and a pretty
sure one, too,” the General replied. “A
variety of books, a eooU map, a knowledge
cl mathematics, and a vivid Imagination
were tolerably good stock In trade, to my
Blinking. How could 1 make mis.
takes?”
“But I do not see how you oould draw
6ucb realistic pictures of a country you
knew nothing about,” persisted the news
man.
“I did know something about it,” said
he. “1 knew all about It. I knew fat
more concerning it, In faot, than if I had
been tbero to see for myself. I made tho
travelers travel for me, which Is tarlo-s
fatiguing than to travel for one’s self. I
read books of travel, manners, and oils,
toms. 1 studied the history of the noun
try and the bible history of Christ, also
the geography of the country. 1 had a
large map before me, hanging always on
the wall where I could see it, upon which
1 ooubl measure distances, settle relative
positions and compute the difference iu
time. With a little knowledge of as
tronomy thrown in there was no possi
bility ol a mistake.
“Then I talked with friends who haa
been there; got them to tell me about the
birds, lUelr plumage and their songs;
about tho flowers and trees, and desorlbo
tile gardens and residences. They told
me of the Syrian sky, its color and
changes; tho rain and dew; the climate
uud Its etluct. You sec 1 was pretty
thoroughly posted.
“Such knowledge is more to be depend
ed on, too, than an actual visit. If 1 bad,
visited tne country to gather data I
would have relied largely on my memory,
and I am notahove the human habit of for
getting. Then, too 1 would have seen so
much In a limited tune that there would
be (lunger of the whole becoming just a
confused junible, a conglomeration of
tacts bard to separate when 1 came to
use thorn.
“As it was, I bad the books and map
before me, and when l forgot anything f
could reiresh my memory without leaving
my chair from a store of knowledge all
assorted and systematized. Or I could
make an evening call on some of my
friends, and ll one had forgotten tbethiug
l wanted to know, another was sure to,
remember it. “Then, alter the whole
was completed, l went to Syria to view
the original of my picture and make any
changes 1 found necessary, and there
were none to make,”
“The pretty story is not true, then,”
said the correspondent, “that you bexan
the book to prove the truth of Infidelity,
if you will allow the paradox, and that
your researches for that purpose were the
means of converting you?”
“No, no; certainly not,” said he, with
considerable warmth. “That story em
anated Irom the fertile brain of some cor
respondent who was hard up for an item,
and 1 cun forgive hliu if lie got paid for
the item and used the money judiciously;
but 1 am eyaged most industriously at
present dodging tho correspondents.”
BALM FOB BALD HEADS.
Muck from a Kentucky Marsh That
AVtil Make Hair Grow.
The Galveston (Tex.) News prints the
following dispatch: The quiet town ofi
Princeton, Ivy., Is in a wild state of ex
citement over the discovery of a muck
from a marshy flat that restores hair to
the baldest of baldheads.
About three miles from Princeton, on
tlie Wilson warehouse road, in a bend of
tho Stevens creek, is a low, marshy flat,
about an acre in size. The earth is of a
greenish color, and no weed or grass ot
any Kind was ever known to grow in it,
and during the dryest season is
always wet. Its wonderful power
was discovered in a very comical
manner. Old Uncle Peter Black, a
native of the Donaldson district,
came to town last August, eleotion
day, and according to his habit with
jovial friends, drank too much red
whisky. Lute ihut.evening, alter bavin*
Imbibed as much blue ruin as he could
navigate with, be saddled his old gray
mule and attempted to wend his way
home. When the rider and old mule came
to the creek, either by tlie obstinacy ot
the mule or by some mystic hand, tne old
animal went into the marsh and split
Uncle Pete. The soft, damp earth proved
a to the bald, aching head
of the old man, and the excitement of the
day was soon forgotten in a dreamless
sleep, from wnteb he was awakened next
morning by the heat of the sun, to And
half of his head and left side covered with
mud. About two weeks after the acci
dent Uncle i’elo round that all that part
of bis body that bad beeu covered with
mud was covered with a tine growth of*
young hair. *
bt. Valentine’s day became to town
and showed to a nuraoer of our most
proaiiuent men a luxuriant growth of
huir three and a half inches in length,
covering the left side and half of his bead.
At first IBs story was laughed at, but
since a bald head is a source of great an
noyance to the owner, also a very lumi
nous object at church and prayer-meet
ings. a tew that were sentdtive on the loss
of hair began to view it in a different
iigbt. For the past two weeks about
twenty are wearing skull caps, inlaid
with this muck. Yesterday several took
ofl tueir caps, and, to their great joy and
huppluess, their heads were oovereil with
a fine growth of young hair, Out unfortu
nutoly It was as red as beet.
Tbejiwneror the marsh has had it In
dosed by a high plank fence, aod sella
the muck at *2 a pound, and the demand
Is bcooiniug so great tUat he oau scarcely
fill all the orders.
It Is predicted that gray will be a lead
ing odor during the spring aiu^ummsr.