The morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, August 17, 1890, Image 10

The morning news., August 17, 1890, Page 10, Image 10

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Newspaper Page Text10 HEROfiS OF THE WIRE. WAS TELEGRAPHERS TO MEET IN CONVENTION IN KANSAS CITE. Thrilling Stories of the BattlaflelcJ Re called—Men Who Tapped the Wires of the Enemy and Aidel Cur Gen erals in Moving Their Armies. (.Copyright.) New York, Aug. 10.—“ Nothing could be more complete than the organization of this body of brave and intelligent men!” So wrote Gen. Grant of a body of men who will meet in national convention dur the sec ud week of September in Kansas City—a body of which Gen. John A. Logan also said: “No part of the army discharged its duties more intelligently and faithfully than the telegraphic corps.” This organizatn ! is known as the United States Military Telegraph Corps, and it is this corps that is to meet. It will be iu conjunction with another organization known as the Old Time Telegra hers’ So ciety. The two are distinct, but really there is little difference between them. Manv of the old timers were military tele graphers and, needless to say, all of the military telegraphers are now old timers. That is why they meet in such unity and in joint convention some 500 strong. Not a few of them are very prominent men wh ,(though they long ago deserted the key and the switchboard, still find a warm spot in their hearts for their old line of bus.ness. The two organi zations have two sets of officers. The national olficers of the old timers are Bay K. Smith, president; Barney Hughes of Memphis, vice preside:t, and YV J. Dealcvof Xe v York, secretary. The olficers of the Unite i States military corns are YV. R. Plumb if Chicago, president; YV illiam B. Wilson of Holmesburg, Pa., vice president, and .T. E. Pettit of Chicago, secretary and treasurer. Among those who accompanied the armies i. to tne field on both sides a good many have passed over to join the unspa ik ing majority. Some of t ern were killed in battle, more died in prison, 199 were killed, wounded or captured, aud 100 more were w ounded. One of the most famous of them all, Thomas Scott, the great railroad magnate, died years ago. But there are still a goodly number of the veterans who are hale a :d hearty. The organization did a groat work, did the Military Telegraph corps. It began work simultaneously with the beginning of the war, but not in a thoroughly organized way. It was not until Gen. Thomas T. Eckert, now vice pivsi lent of the YYmstern Union Telegraph Company, took charge first of the department of Virginia aud Norih Carolina, that the corps began to play a highly important part in the conduct of the war. Later, Gen. Eckert, under Geu. Arison Stafer, directed also the de partments of YVest Virginia, Ohio, the Cumberland, Missouri, Tennessee, the south ami Gulf, and tneu the corps was fully aud thoroughly oi g mized, and had in it some of the most competent telegraphers in the country. Gen. McClellan is on record as saying that it gave him material aid in bis campaigns, and all the other army commanders have given like testimony. Some idea of the work thnt it did even in the early stag *8 of the war may bo obtaino 1 when it is slid that during 18152 nearly 490 miles of wiro was built over the territory occupied by our forces. This was taken down and put un as the war progressed and as necessity dictated, but during the year more than 1,090,- 000 dispatches, a large proportion of which were of the most vital importance, were transmitted. As much more iitio was constructed in 1882, and about 2,000,000 dispatenes wore sent from that time to the close of the war, 6,000 miles of line were built and 5,000,000 dis patches forwarded. Ail through Shei man’s campaign, notably in his marcu to the sea, the telegraphers played a brilliant part on more than one occasion, receivi g the per sonal thanks of the commander—which was a good deal—for Gen. Sherman has never been over lavish in praise of his subordi nates. Gen. Badeau iu his history says that w-heu Geu. Grant crossed the Rapidan in his final campaign ho moved synchronously by telegraph Sherman in Georgia, Cr *ok in the valley and Butler iu the peninsula, aud re ceived responses from each before night, while all the remaining union forces wore directed by the sumo agency. Tho im portance of tho position of the telegi aphors is shown by tho fact that tne dispatches that were sent over the wires were iu ciohtr, the keys of which were held by c nfi lential operators and were not to bo revealed even to command ing generals. On tie occasion at Norfolk an operetor was offered several thousand dollars in gold ami a passage to England on a blockade runner if ho w uld anticipate a certain telegram from President Lincoln. The offer was refused. It was such service that caused secretary Stanton to report to President Lincoln that “in diligence, fidel ity and important aid the Telegraph corps has been unsurpassed by any branch of the service.” Many of the military telegraphers and those who were old-time operators, and who will be present at the coming meeting at Kansas City, either in person or sympa thy, have long since deserted the operators to wiu both fame ami fortune in other pur suits. Among these may be mentioned Andrew Carnegie, who says to this day that be owes most of his success to what he learned as a telegraph operator. Another old timer is ex-Gov. Cornell, aud another veteran .who has won for himself a position such as it bus been given to but few men to attain is Wizard Thomas A. Edison. A younger man than auy of these but one, who started out as a telegrapher, is George A. Kennan, the Russian traveler. The present president of the corps, W. R. Flum. is no longer an operator. He is a prominent lawyer in Chicago and author of a “History of th > Military Telegraph.” Its vice-president, William B. Wilson, is a busi ness man in Holmesburg, Pa. Barney Hughes, the president of the Old Time Tele graph Society, was a military o. erator with the confederates. He is now a railroad agent at Memphis. E. Rosewater, who is a leading officer among the military operators, drifted into toe newspaper busi ness, as many telegraphers do, und is now owner of the Omaha Bee. L. C. Weir, an other bright light, is superintendent ot the Adams Express office at Cincinnati. J. H. Einenck, another, is in business in New York City. And so it goes. It may be said, however, that wherever the operators of long ago have gone into another busines; they have succeeded. But not a few of the veterans of tele graphy have continued in their original business. Gen. Eckert has won lug\i fam > in his business, bring now vice president of that great orgu- lzation, the Western Union Company. William B. Summerville was in a good ma ly campaigns, serving under Grant, S errnan and others, and was with McPherson whan he was killed. He is now superintendent of the Western Union Com pony. Walter B. Phillips is an old-timer, and when he was an operator bo was considered one of the fastest that ever sat before the tele graph instrument. He has a modal which was presented to him by Prof. Morse in recognition of his skill. He is now at the head of the United Press Association, and is making, tliev sav, some *JO,Ono a year. The joint convention will be unique in us way. Delegates to it are not elec t'd as to other conventions. All the old-timers who can attend it are snpp <ee<l fiilmi without ceremony, an l to bring their wives along, too, if they wish to do ■>, Aid the war the veterans of the wire do enj iv them selves is simply immense, according to trust worthy reports. The storms they tell t f <>ld- Uuio operating, ton, are worth lisieid g to. Superintendent Somerville of the V\’est er n 1 (non Telegraph Company win in u reminiscent moot the other day wftou the sun jet p of th culling convention win br tich#i], "Hot times, wen* tho ho wnd, refer ring Pi Urn war period, “ami kof/ieittiiek * hell the bulls would come near enough po you to cut your wire it usi-d to be a Dit un pleasant.” Some other veterans who happened about assented very heartily to this. “1 don’t want to "see again any hotter times than I saw when I was with McPher son and with Grant. There was ouetime I remember at Holly Springs wnen we were two miies in advance of tne army and didn’t know when we would be snapped up. Then there were other times when we would be sent t > tap the confederate wires, and that was a job that meant da ger every time. It’s a wonder that mere nten were not lost tiian reaiiy were." Then the old time operator began to recall incidents of telegraph service, and other old-timers near by did likewise. Some of the stories were second hand, some were not. and many were i teresting. ’ Yes,’’ said Somerville, "tapping confederate wires was dangeous wo. k. there wa. the cose of one of the best of our military operators, Lathmo his name was. lie was one of tne first of our army ti enter Yorktown. His duty, as be knew it. was to burry t > the confederate tele graph headquarters f >r the purpose of try ing the Richmond wire. There was a tor pedo inge liously placed iu the teat by the confedera es. Well. while po -r Irathrop was at work it exploded and fairly blew him to piee s. Th re was souiethmg serious about that sort of work.” “Yes,” broke in another old timer, “but do you rememtier how i formation as to the position of the confederate lutrenchments iu Yorktown was obtained* It was by means of a light wire worked by an opera tor iu a balloon and connecting with our headquarters.” “Some of the men were very successful at wire ttipping,” continued Somerville. '‘Gen. li'.secraaz had with his array two men who were, to u-e a slang expression, ‘daisies.’ One of these was an Irishman named Pat rick Mutlarkey and the other wras named E. S. Vau\ T alkenburg. These two men were in the enemy’s country between Richmond and Chattanooga for thirty-three days tapping wires. They had a good many nar row escapes, but finally reached headquar ters in Nashville safe and sound.” “Gen. E. K. YV'arreu has written of two instances that fell under his notice,” said Supt. Somerville. “One was at Peters burg. An operator br ught his wire to the front directly under the tire of the enemy’s gu is aud operated it behind a big tree there. But the tree was hollow, aul if a cannon ball had ever struck tiiat tree it would have gone right through it, and it would have iieen good-by operator. Au nt hot *1 nstance was at a point on the YVeldon railroad on the Sunday morn ing that the union men were shelled out of it. One of the operators brought his recorder right up under rifle fire of the enemy,in as dangerous a spot as could possi bly be oh sen. Bullets just hailed around him, their pa: ter and the sound of musketry sometimes confusing the records of his sounder. But he went on with his work without flinehi g. Gen. YVarren afterwards said that he was astounded at the heroism displayed by some of tho operators.” “Yes," broke in another speaker, “then there was E. T. Chapman, who was with Sherman for a-wtiile. There was not a braver man in either army. Ho was with Sherman when tho lat ter made his success ful raid info YY es’ern Virginia in the latter part < f 1H64. Chapman was always at a post ot danger, tapping tho confederate wires ami intercepting tho rebel dispatches. He catne through it all right,tho igh, and Sher man himself reported that his success was attributable in a great degree to the infor mation derived by his operator, Chapman, from the confederate telegraph lines.” Others than Supt. Somerville can tell, however, of the military telegraph corps. Tne war records are full of them, as is also “Hum’s History of the Military Telegraph." At the retreat of Banks from Strausburg, Jackson captured both of his telegraphers. One of them was at Winche ter sending important dispatches afler the union rear guard had left. Ho was captured, but before this he managed to destroy his dispatches, and break his instrument, so that neither was of any use to the rebels. The field operators that Pope had with him acted on many occasions as indejiendent scouts, tapping wires hero and (here, as the occa sion presented itsnif. The earliest nows of the second battle of Bull Ru i was given by the operators, two of them tiding from the battlefield and telegraphing to the Presi dent, ho personally thanked them over the wire. There was a goodly delegation of tele graphers in Libby prison, in Andersonvillo, aud at Belle Isle at all times du' ing the war. One of the peculiar ten ures of their imprisonment was the ingenious methods that they used to communicate with their friends on the outside. Sometimes a brass button brought by an exchanged or es caped prisoner would contain a cipher dis patch on tissue paper, and thero were other devices of various kinds resorted to. The way Burnside’s army was Saved at Knoxville will do for example. Long street was bosioging Burnside there. Grant, after driving Brag.; from Missionary ridge, re ceived dispatches from the adva ce office that Burnside could not hold out but fur a limited time. This news was communicated to Secretary Stanton. It was late at night when Stanton telegraphed to Col. Stager, chief of tho mili ary corps, to “come to the key.” Stager was in bed in Cleveland, but the ticking of his in strument at his bedside awoke him. He was told to get news to Burnside that rein forcements were on the way to him. Stager immediately sent a cipher message contain ing the information to four operators near where Burnside was h >ldiug out, nu t iu the dead of the night these four operators started from different points, each with the same news. Between them it reached Burn side, and knowing that union troops Were on the way to him beheld out and his army was saved. YVilliam Mackintosh was one of the old time operators who had more lively expe riences than most men h ive. He was twice in Litiby prison and only escaped a third term by the narrowest of scratches. He was hotly chased for a mile by the confed erates, and the fact that he was lucky enough to fall in with a union regiment was all that saved him. But such things as these were quite com mon in the days of the “late unpleasant ness,” and the veterans laugh over them now. There is a practical side to the coming convention. Every general of any promi nence in the war ha-* eulogized the Military Telegraph corps. The Comte de Paris in bis history has said he was amazed by its etficiency. As has been said before, some 200 men were killed, died of disease or were captured during the war, while 100 more suffered from the casualties of the service. Yet this corps, which in fact constituted part of the army, ha* been entirely over looked by congress as an organi zation. There is before congress a bill “For tho relief of telegraph oper ators during the war.” It lias beeu there several sessions. The general belief has beeu that it was intended to grant pensions to the veto ans. This is not so. The main object of the bill is to get proper records of tho services of the military corps file i so that they may become a part of the official history of the war indorsed by congress. The coining convention will take new steps to get the desired recognition. It is but a small boon to ask, and it can scarcely be said that the men who will gather in con vention at Kansas City are not deserving of some notice, for they performed brave deeds. A dispatch from Kingston, N. Y„ records that growers of the Duchess white grape have discovered a iK-cutiar worm, whic i has, within a week, fastened itself upon ihe foliage, eating Intotue vim with a damaging effect. A* seen under a gins, it lets the npp.-arnneeof a water crib, with i large inimo* . -if "pr nigs - extend lug from its body Tne manager of th-* s >uth ein I l*P*r Observati hi station at .Mh- llmroiign has s *i-t ale if cover -d wiln the molds of me Insect t . the slat** stati>nal Ithaca for observe tioti a i-l r iHirt Thu* f n lew vineyards have b-*eo troubled with tin* ]-•*•*. t'hauls* t’oHoßovz. ihe tamous aeronaut, was hi-t uiUv Died last Htiiiiday in PortUud. i ire., while in ('ling a para.- mla descent l\ nen ■ib'Rit ** feet lr . II the gl mu 1 be lust his hold aiel f**!l. lundi i ■• *1 a inv-il st!-*e*.. ll* was mangle I almost !<e>ond r *c -g-niiuti. THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, AUGUST 17, 1890—TWELVE PAGES. A NEW ENGLAND FARMER’S WIFE. A Woman Who Gets Very Little Satia faction Cut of Life. Noves Beach, Westerlv, R. 1., Aug. 16.—Once ui on a time, no matt )r when, save that it was not so very long ago, I was invited to spend t c afternoon with the wife of one of the wealthiest farmers in New England. This meant, according to estab lishished custom, going ai>out 3 o’clock and returning before 9 o’clock. Such hours were very convenient and very pleasant for one whose principal endeavor it is to get all the sleep and rest possible from a summer vaeatio i. So at the time appointed I sallied forth, my little workbasket on my arm containing.b sides my own afguau strip some pretty new patterns which f thought my hostess might like to became acquainted with. The afternoon was quite warm, but my route lay along a shady road, and when I arrived at the band ome great farm house, I felt in just the mood for a good time. Tne piazzas were broad and on three sides of the bouse, but I noticed wi h surprise and disappointment that there was not a hammock in sight. There were two uncomfortable, stiff-backed settees placed firmly against the side of the house, and that was all. There were wire screens at every door and window and as I rang the Dell I noticed that both light, and air were still m ire effectually shut out by means of long, green Holland shades. My hostess admitted me with a nervous ‘Step in quickly, please, on account of the flies. You see they are so thick that I have to fight ’em from the time I get up till I go to bed.’ This was the oddest salutation I ever received, and when sun-hat and parasol were disposed of I was given a chair by the window; it might as well have been a solid wall. I wished from the bottom of my heart that 1 was on my own piazza, with the flies. 1 took out my work, hoping that my com panion would have the common politeness to offer at least to turn the outside green blind* a trifle, but she was quite unmoved. I told her that I had brought her some new crochet patterns, buts e shook her head and said she had no time for such fol-de-rols, an.l that her eyes were so weak that it was all she could di to Ueip her family sewed up. “Why, I even have to wear glasses when I pick over huckleberries.” she added, plamtiv lv. Now, my afghan strip was pretty and enticing, and, being a very busy literary woman, witn little time at my disposal for such artistic indulgence, I naturally felt defrauded. More than once I half decided to say that I couldn’t remain. From 3 to 0 o’clock in a darkened, stuffy parlor, while a refreshing breeze was astir outside, aud oae of the finest views in the country to bo had for the looking, was too much for my human nature. How could I bear it. “Mebbe you could wear uiy glasses,” said the plaintive voice of my companion, who had drawn a chair directly in front of me. They may magnify a little too much, but I don’t suppose they’d do much harm for one afternoon.” It is ueedless to say that I declined the spectacles, aud I am afraid with scant th t ks. “Don’t you ever sit on the piazza?” I asked when I could sufficiently control my v ice as not to laugh iu the poor woman’s face. "Mercy, no,” was the horrified exclama tion. “ile does, but lor sokes, he’d just as leaf be fly-blown as not.” “He’ 1 was her husband. “ ’ l'aiu't likely that you’d ra her s t out tboro in that glare of light, sur rounded by flics, than in a cool, shady parlor?” "I don’t mind flie3 as much as you do, I think, and lam always oit of doors all summer,” I replied, endeavoring not to lot my desire for freedom, light and air, make itself too disagreeably prominent,, be cause regarded from a Christian standpoint it was quite as proper for uie to be uncom fortable as for my hostess, and I really be lieve one afternoon of sunsuine and flies would have male her dangerous. A little later I found that sho was particularly anxious to talk about her complaints. I grew iut rested in spite of myself, for I had never listened to such a caiego y of human diseases. If there was a single organ per forming a normal work in this woman’s body, I dou’t know which one it could be, for they all seamed equally off equiii’ rium. She ne .u r: lept more than four hours out of twenty-four, was subject to dizzy spells, had bad a bad cough for years, a weak back, varicose veins, and every possible trouble known to her sex. How much of exaggeration thero was in this recital of woes 1 cannot tell, but it did seem impossi ble that any woman c >uld suffer so much, aud yet do alt the housework, washing amt ironing included, for nine persons, her owu family of three, and seven farm uauds. YV hen my companion left me at 5 o’clock to go out and get tea I felt as it I had been conversing with anew order of being. 1 knew that there Was much ignorance iu the world, and many fools among women, but I had not. the slightest conception that such a state of things could exist among people who claimed to be civilized. At tho risk of offending tho poor soul I did open that door, aud slip out in the piazza. It guess it took me five minutes to undo the little catches and tiny b Its which made me a prisoner, but it was light and air or suffocation, mental and physical. How could this woman live in 8 .ch utter defiance ot all common sense and hygimne principles? YVho was responsible for such dense ignorance. I asked myself as I prom enaded the spacious piazza. A whole souled, chery voice broke iu on my medi tation. “How- le-do-mum, glad to sea you,” it said. “I told my wife that if she managed to keep you cooped up in that funeral parkv all the afternoon then I didn’t know human nature.” This was “he,” aud O, I did enjoy him after three hours of desolation. Well, we had for supper, cold tongue, cold chicken, pickle-, hot biscuits, white as snow, plum and peach preserves, besides blackberries and raspberrien, pound cake, cup cake, spiced oaks and cup custards, everything made by this invalid’s hands for me. How do you think I felt? The cake 1 could only nib le, the hot ; iscuits I knew better than to touch. Verily, how much better it would have oee:i to have had tne raspberries and cream, some nice cold bread, the cold chicken, the cup custards, and one kind of cake, if she must have cake. The poor woman’s distress was touching when I refused her beautiful poisons, but my murtyrdom had been quite sufficient without adding dyspepda. “He” hitched up and drove me home, and we took the longest way round, too. “ VY'hy does your wife work so hard?” I asked my companion. “Because,” he answered with deliberation, “she is as sot as the rock of Gibraltar, and w ords are no account. She has uo need to do a stroke of hard work, and ain’t had for years. I’ve had to stop fussing about it. Say, ain’t that just an elegant sunset?” Eleanor Kirk. Tacoma Leads Her Sisters. From the Tacoma Ledger. Federal Federal census. census. ISSO. 1890. Portland 17.577 35.861 Seattle 3,533 38,766 Tacoma .......... 720 40,166 Increase in last teu years: Portland .. 104 per cent. Seattle 907 per cent, Tacotna. 5,500 per cent. Tacoma is the metropolis of the northwest and the largest city on the Pacific coast, except San Francisco. Does the history of the United States sup ply a parallel to the astounding growth of this city ? From forest primeval to 4 1,000 lieople in a single decade! Compass the j world around, does ihe nineteenth century any where else -U >es any eratury— give us an example of such growth due to the arts of peace? A flower has been discovered in South Amer ica which Is only visible when the wind blows. The shrub belong* to the cactus family aud is about turce feet high. The stem ts covered wit i dead, watery looking luiiqie in calm weather: these lumps, however, ne and but a -light breeze to make them liufold large rins er* of a oroiliiy while which close and appear as dead us soon as tin? wind suisnde* BITS FROM CARRIE’S PEN. MR. WHITNEY’-* WIFE HAS A TALK WITH WORTH. The Dear Girls Dance With Flowing Hair—A Count of No Account Meets His Match Good News for the Freckled Girl. tCopvrioht.) New York, Aug. 16.—At last the world begins to appreciate the merits of the freckled girl. For two or three seasons she has been slowly advancing until now she stands in the very front row. The poets and artists have taken her up. and the glory of her red-brown hair, the cream of her ivory skin, with its artistic flecks of burnt umber, and her big long lashed hazel eyes— eyes with no bottom to them, somebody says—are fruitful themes for pictures from pen and brush. She wears gowns of old blue with trimmings of dull red, wide hats with drooping plumes a id long classic draperies, for the freckled girl’s form has—so the poet says—“a lissome grace.” Sing bey for the freckled girl. Mrs. VVnitney, the wife of the ex-secre tary, who has recently returned from a long stay abroad, says the report that YVorth is going to revive criuoliue and bustle is all nonsense. Mrs. Whitney interviewed the great dressmaker himself. And he showed her silks ami wools and brocades, all as soft and clinging as they could be made. “The more I can follow the outline of the figure the Defter results I obtain,” said Mr. YVortb to Mrs. YVhi’.ney. “And tho change of style from very bouffant drapery to these straight classic gowns is the real reason why so many American girls are trying to develop their figures.” Mrs. YVhitnay says that the long cloaks will be more worn thi3 season t an ever before. She has several of them. One is of black thread lace, trimmed with ribbons, us only Worth can put rib ons on. An other is of heavy white drap d’alraa, with creamy marabout feat ers fluffed all over it. And still another is of rich wine-red velvet, trimme 1 with bands of black Per sian lamb, and lined with pale green silk. This last is for carriage wear in the fall. Other pretty things .vuich Mrs. Whitney brought home are de_*p collars made of dainty tinted ostrich tips, aud capes of filmy laca gathered into full ca*c ides, in.king a very feathery effect. Oneof the most striking dresses among Mrs. YY'hitney’s nw ones is a black suran silk with embroidery done in straw, real yellow straw, sown in and out with a needle, making a realistic patter of wheat heads. A wide black straw hat is worn with this dress, and the hat is trimmed with big bunches of wheat. The latest craze in hair dre sing is not to dress it at all, or at least to give it the ap pearance of not having bean dressed. A fil.et is bound round the head Greek wise, and from that the tresses float uricon find, very much as Mary Anderson wore hers during the dance of the “Winter’s Tale.” The first two who worn their hair this way were Miss Grace YV'ilson and Miss Amy Bond, who appeared at a law n fete recently by Mrs. Have.neyer. with big hat*. Maud Muller drestes and floating hair. Now as tioth of these very hands vne girls have pretty, curly hair, the effect was bowiteh inc; so much so that the fame of the style went abroad, and the L ing Branch girls heard of it. O; course, to know was to do, and so at the YVest End hop the other evening, a certain you g lady made up her mind to make a sensation, a id she did. She led down her hair, which is very abundant, but, alas! very straight, and her maid spent two hours getting it into the proper condition of wavinoss by means of a hot iron. It was beautiful when she fin ished, and the young iadv started for the ball witn the keenest sense of satisfaction. Since that night she has been a firm believer iu the depravity of inanimate things, for, while she was on her way, a nasty mist blew in from the soa, and when she reached her dressing room her beautiful fluff v curls had all straightened out, and hung lank and moi t all about her face and nock. And if you’ll believe me, some of those otner girls hid behind their fans and giggled. Well, she bad to put up her hair and pin on a false bang, and she wasn’t a bit happy all the evening. Another girl who lets her hair hang down and lets tho corner of her mouth dr p and lets tho whites of her eyes turn up, and who wears a cape draned Hamlet- wi.e, and Romeo shoes and a fifteenth century hat, an l who walks up and down the shore with a melancholy stride, is the stage-struca miss v* h i is practicing in order that she may present herself before Boucieault or some other judges of histrionic merit in the fall. She confines herself almost entirely to Shakesperian work, of course; for she moans to “do the legitimate.” She moans out the woes of “Ophelia,” nothing daunted because some unaDpro ciativo hoy from the pier answers her with a dismal cat-call. She shrieks the con science-stricken sentences of “Lady Macbeth.” But once in awhile she descends to comedy, and the very waves recede in terror as she stamps up and down the sands personating “Pet-rucchio’s” Kate. There is at a Newport h >tel the heaviest swell in all America. Not an ocean swell; a would-be English swell. Nobody knows who he is. But the daughters of the Rhode Island farmers think they know, for he has been around among them, picking out the prettiest ones, to w hom he has told wonder ful tales of Ins ancestral acres aud likewi*e his titles. These innocent damsels have all of them read more or less of counts and princes who have gone a-wooing rustic lasses, who have taken them to live iu magnificent palaces, and b ught teem a ton or so of diamonds; and of the unheard-of country girl who be comes all of a sudden tho howling success ot a Loudon season. This is the way the “Duchess” fixes it up: and where is tnere a couutrv girl who hasn’t read the “Duchess?” This imitation nobleman at Newport un derstands all this and takes advantage of it. He has made golden promises to more ttian one silly girl, who probably is dreaming yet that he will return to keep'tuern. Some of the New York girls discovered his little game, and mie of them, rather more saucy than the others, determined to have some fun. So she got herself up for the part, took a basket on her arm aud managed to meet the young man during one of his coun try rambles. Her affectation of shy mod esty almost caused tho girls who wore bidden behind tne trees watching to have spasms They managed to control them selves, however, while his highness told the young lady how beautiful she was and how she deserved a better fate than to milk cows and feed poultry on her father’s farm. “These little hands should have dia monds upo i them,” he said, tenderly, as ho lifted t eshaoely members, which had br corne brown aud calloused from tennis and rowing, instead of from milking cows and mailing butter. Shesimperei “yes, sir,” aud a giggle came from behind the nearest tree. The dude had arrived at tho point where he usually began to describe bis palaces. He started to give a glowing description of a castle in Scotland. But this was more than the audience behitid the trees c raid stand. A dozen faces with which the dudo was farnili r from having seen them unon the Newport drives and at hops, came into view and a dozen merry voices give hin the laugh in such a mocking fasui *n that he lied precipitately, leaving his dose iption unfinished. He returned to his hotel, packed his trunk and changed his loca tion. Miss Schenck, the pretty niece , f q rs . Hioks-I, >rd, who went abroad aitli her aunt Inst week, had the most sensible ship board gown that can be imagined. It wit* of se ge, just the shade of gray that sea water would not hurt, and it was made with a plain and neatly fitting jacket buuud witn black silk braid. Acl se round hat of felt, a ilotpsi vail, and it neat tourist'* bag complete 1 tbls very sensible outfit. Ami as I she st >od on tho dock of the Ing steamer wuvi g her friends good-by, I io >ked trim an J tng as a sailor should. She had nothing with her but a small hand bar. ‘ What’s the use,” she sai l, “o i a lot of luggage when you go over. We are going to L>u a lot of things, and tnere’s no use of carrying trunks Loth ways. ” It struck me as being a very sensible idea. An idea worthy of an American girL My friends oftea accuse me of waving the star spangled ban- er on all occasions, but if you'll find me snr product of any age that is eq lal to the American girl of 1890, I’ll go miles to see what it is. Before pretty Miss Fair became Mrs. Her man Oelnchs, she had a number of yacht ing dresses made, for she knew that she would spend most her time this summer on board the Stranger. One of them—the prettiest one I think—is of dark blue silk, with embroidery of white upon it. The skirt just clears the tops of the low deck shoes, and the waist is a neat blouse, with wide collar and deep cuffs. A broad red sash is worn with this dress, and a white sailor hat with a rad and blue handkerchief folded round its crown. Mrs. Oelricbs calls it her “Fourth of July dress,” and her handsome husband tells her that she ought never to wear it without having a flag stuck in her Delt. Thors are several white flannel dresses among Mrs. O 'lrichs’ yacht ing costumes, and one very artistic affair of cream fish-net, with ornamentatio i of peony silk cords. She has g own as brown as a bee from her constant exposure on board tne yacht, and so has Herman, but the c ilor is very becoming and they are very happy. Long life to tnem! Carrie Careless. HUNTING BEARS IN MONTANA. It is Not So Pleasant When the Bear Turns Hunter. From the Helena Independent It is cot generally known that part of Hugh McQuaid’s mission to the Flathead country was a search for the Lost Cabin mine. The fact that he had dreamed on five consecutive nights that the mine was situated in such and such a place, together with a hearty invitation from his old irieud, Maj. Pei e, induced the colonel to spend five days iu the saddle roaming about the Flat head country. The charming scenery and genial companionship of his friend caused him to forget the mine, and he is now kick ing himself because ho lias also forgotten the location of the mine. It is with such ease that fortunes sometimes slip away. The major also nad visions of fabulous wealth. Some time ago he found what ap peared to be a rich strike, though he was by no means certain of the value. For the purpose of gathering reliable information he sent an invitation to a well-known rain ing expert, Henry Brataober, to visit him at the agency. Brat, who likes an outing as well as any one, packed up a few traps and started on the trip. He left the road at Drummond, where he was joined by the major, and commenced the overland journey. After they were well started Brat noticed that they were followed by a beautiful red Irish setter, evidently the property of a lover of dogs. The dog wore a handsome collar and appeared to be a well bred and costly ani mal. He followed along behind the two travelers, to whom ho became greatly attached. The affection was reciprocated, and the major began talking of shaking dice for the brute when the question was disposed of by an unexpected adventure. By this time the two were miles away from Drummond in a wild and mountain ous country. While the ownership of the dog was still under discussion both Brat and the major were startled by the sudden ap pearance of two black bear cubs. The bears ero possibly more surprised, for away they ran with the dog at their heels until they reached the nearest tree, which they climbed with no loss of alacrity. They were up in the branches grinning at the dog when Brat and Maj. Pete arrived on the scene. Brat thought they should be killed at once, but the major gazed fondly at the youngsters scampering among the tree tops and pro posed that they be captured alive. Brat was satisfied and a plan was soon outlined. The dog was tied with a lariat to the tree to guard the bears while the major and Brat went to the camp near by for as sistance. They found a party of men who were more than wiiliug to capture the cubs. Supplies of ropes, axes, and guns were se cured, and the party started for the tree. As they came within the scene the major remarked that “p ssibly his evesigt was failing him, but he could see no bears." “O, I guess they are all right enoug.” re plied Brat, “only they are trying to fool us.” But the Major was right, for, as the party came nearor to the tree, not a sign of a bear was to be found. When they reached the ground, however, the mystery was partly explained. Around tho roots of the tree were a dog-collar and a few pieces of dog, just to identify the remains. The amusing little cubs were “out of sight.” The two veteran frontiersmen looked in each other’s eyes for a moment, then Brat remarked. “1 never thought of tho loving female parent of those little fellows.” “Nor I,” replied the major. “And I don’t think I’ll aocept another tenfooter’s invitation to a bear partv,” chipped in another of the rescuing partyf ’ ‘"You see,” said Brat, in explaining the affair afterward, “I expect that the old bear came along, and, catching onto tne situation, walked up to the dog and gave him a swipe. She was immediately joined by her delighted offspring, and away went the trio, smiling over tne adventure. I don’t know anything about the habits of bears, but Ronan should have known better than to leave the third bear out of the proposition.” A GOOD ONE ON INGALLS. A Yarn From the West Related In the senate Gallery. From the Washington Star. “You'll notice that this long session is not having any apparent effect on Senator In galls,” said a gentleman from the we3t iu the Senate gallery the other day. “I used to know Ingalls years ago. He was thinner then than he is now and looked just about the same. He lived in Atchison, and had the reputation of being possessed of more brain and less flash than any other adult iu the state of Kansas. One day he went up to the office of a friend of his, a doctor, and while ne was in there a newsboy dashed in. Now the kids who sold papers around Atchison in those days were the uoisiest I ever heard,and the doctor’s assistant,a cheer ful young student, was always on the alert to shut some of them up, a id to prevent them from invading the privacy of his room with their stamping feet and ear piercing yells of “S’n L uav papes.” The assistant had soen this particular ooy a3 he entered the building, and, in an ins ant, had placed inside the doorway of the office a full grown skeleton. When the youugster threw the door open and was midway through one of his declamations the skele ton fell over on him. With a shriek that was worseeven than his regular street cry, the bov rolled down one flig.it of stairs ali i tumbled into the street and his tnurmurmgs continued right straight along. “You’ve scared tuat boy to deathex claimed tne budding senator, who was overflowing with indignation. Then he wenttr the win low, and, bending out, called to the grimy, bit pallid face of the victim: “Gome back here, boy; I’ll buy some of your papers. He shan’t hurt you.” the response was instantaneous. The boy’s sobs censed and he shouted: “No, you don’t! You can’t fool me, if you have put your clothes on.” This residents of Dmipban county, Kan are much alarmed, it is reported, by the action of tn • Missouri river, “which threatens to reduce thousands of acres of valuable land to a broad expanse of swa np. For the-last six mouths the river ha- been euttinz away on the Ka .sas side at an alar omg rate, and, If prompt meas uivs are not taken. Wattiena ati l El wood will tv swept away and St Joseph left hub and dry, wuile the million dollar orilge will span a dry watercourse A d.doirai.ou w j|| fclar[ p, WMiiingtoh With a petition to congress for help ami relie' -arly in the coining wees •• DRIVEN TO SIGN PAINTING. A Peculiar Experience tn the San Juan Mining regions, Col. From the Sew York Sun. It was early in the spring of ’Bl that I first struck Kico, a little mining camp in the south western corner of Colorado, in what is local ity known as the San Juan country. I was a “tenderfoot” at tho time, and knew but little about the men and customs of the mining regions. I uud gone out to Colorado from the quiet city of Pailad -lpnia, and had obtained a p sitioo as freight inspector for the Colorado railroad pool at Denver. The work was to my liking and the pay was liberal, bat, like all young men in that country, I hail got a bad touch of the mining fever, and I wanted to go into the mountains aid make a for tune. I had heard wonderful stories of the rich strikes in the San Juan country, and so I concluded ;o try my luck there. Of course I knew nothing about mining, but that trifling fact did uot dampen my dopes nor deter me from masiug the new ven ture. So one fine day in April I resigned my place and obtained a pass to Rockwood, the nearest station to Rico, on the Denver and Rio Grande railroad. The trees were green in Denver, and fl iwers were in bloom when I left there. When 1 arrived In Rockwood, however, only two days later, 1 found the ground covered deep with the accumulation of the many winter snow storms, aftd the inhabit ants told me that it was much too early in tho year to think of prospecting. They said that the snow would uot be gone for at least six weeks. Rockwood was little more th in a supply station for Rico, and consisted of the railroad station, a storehouse, one little store and three or four houses. I could uot slay there, as my funds were low, arid I would have to work to support my self until I could go hunting for a silver mine. 1 decided to push on to Rico. They told me that there was too much snow on the trail to Rico to permit of the stage using it, and that the only way to reach the mining camp was to w alk there. Ibe dis tance was thirty miles. I slept in Rock wood that a.gut, ar.d early the next morning started for Rico. I bought some crackers and cheese to eat on tbe road, and with these under my arm, and a solitary quarter of a dollar in my pocket, I started on the hardest traiup I had ever taken in my life. I wore ordinary city walking shoes, which, before 1 started, were rather the worse for wear. I found the snow was quite hard and firm in the early morning, but, as the day grew older and Hie sun’s heat became more in tene, the snow became soft, aud made the walking more laborious. I was always a good walker, however, and I managed to cover mils after mile over the rough moun tain trail without very much fatigue. I reached Rico after dark, having covered the thirty miles in a very long day. The sole of one of my sh >es was half off, and the side had burst out with the unusual strain put on it. I was as hungry as a man could well be, and felt that I needed a good night’s rest. But what to do to get a meal and a place to lav my bead for the night when all my available funds amounted to 25 cents was a serious problem. As my hunger bothered me most, I decided to in vest ray quarter in food aud think over the bed question on a full stomach. I went into a restaurant, and asked the proprietor how much he charged for supper. “Fifty cents,” he answered. I went out again and hunted up another restaurant. Tue same question and the same answer there did not tend to brighten my prospects for a supper. As I was w an dering slowly down the one longj6traggling street of the camp, wondering what I should do, aud thinking what a big mistake I had made to c >me to tne place in such an impe cunious condition and at such a season of the year, 1 passed a saloon and gambling room. I saw, through the half-open door, a game of faro iu full swing, and I turned and entered. I sauntered carelessly over to the table and glanced at the “cases.” I saw that three kings had lost, and I promptly placed my solitary quarter on the king, with the idea that, having lost three times, it would probably win the fourth, and I would have enough money to pay for my supper. The first turn out of the box made the king lose again, and the de iler nonchalantly swept my last quarter into the cash drawer. 1 turned away, feel ing more hopelessly hungry aud desperate than ever and took a seat by the stove in the saloon. I hadn’t ben sitting there two minutes when tbe proprietor of tho place came ovor to me and said: “Just get in, friend?” “Yes.” “Where’d you come from?” “Denver.” “Say, you ain’t the sign painter we’ve been looking for for a week, are you?” I certainly was not, as I had never at tempted to paint a sign or anything else in my life, but the question gave me an idea. When a man is in a desperate situation he thinks quickly, and it was so in my case. I do not believe that I even hesitated before I answered: “Yes, I guess I’m the man you’re looking for. __ Do you want a sign painted ?” “Yes, I do,” he said. “I waut ‘The Silver Brick" painted on my windows. What will you charge me to put it oil?” I went over and examined tho windows more to collect my thoughts and think how I should carry the thing out, than because they would help me todetermi e a price for something tnat 1 knew absolutely nothing about. He waited by the stove for me, aud 1 soon returned to him. “What kind of a sign do you want on the windows?” I asked him. “I can put on gold letters for you, but it will come pretty high, and besides, you will have to wait until my gold leaf gets here from Durango. Then I can put you on a neat painted letter—say black with red shading—for about §ls, I can do that without waiting for materials.” “Ain’t that a pretty stiff price?” ha asked. To tell the truth. I didn’t know whether it was or not, but I was not telling him the strict truth, and then I folt that it would not be professional to back down. I put a bold front on, aud, looking him straight in the eye, said: “It might boa high price for Chicago, or even for Denver, but I’m not out here for my health, aud I consider it a fair price for Rico.” He studied a moment. Then ho asked: “When will you do it'” “To-morrow morning.” “All right. Go ahead. If you do a good job fo me, I don’t mind giving you §ls for it.” He walked away then and left me sitting bv the fire. I did not sit there long. My standi, g in the community had undergone a change. I was no longer an unknown w anderer without means of support. I had served in the last five minutes an appren ticeship to a profitable trade, and had risen to be a master workman. They do things rapidly in the glorious west, particularly when hunger is a factor. lat once went to the little hotel, which was known as the Kico House, walked briskly into the office registered, called for supper and a good room, said that 1 was tho sign painter who had i eeu expected for a week or more, and tackled the proprietor for a job on i ho spot. I g an order from him for a sign on the front of his hotel, a’e a hearty supper aud went to bed to sleep the sleep of the just. The next morning I was up early, and after eating breakfust went straight to the onlv drug store in the camp. 1 drew a pleasant faced clerk to one side, took him into rny confidence, and asked him to trust me for some paint aud brushes. I told him that I had never painted a sign in my life, but that I knew that I could form the let ters correctly, if he would show me how to mix the paints. He took iu the situation a:i 1 seemed t. regard it as a good joke. He took me back of the prose; ipttun counter aud mixed suno blank and some red paint separately for me. i hen he gave me two liltie brushes and told me to “wade in and keep a stiff upper lip.” In dfteeu fuiuutes I was at work ou the windows of the “Silver Brick ’ saloon, 1 had often watched sign painters at their work, aud I knew enough to mark out the letters with a piece of soap. 1 had al wavs a little natural knack at drawing, a .and U stood me in good stead. I soon had the letters marked out. then I proceeded to pain- them, while. sc re of men stood near by and wato e.l me. I was a little nervous, hut I didn’t show it, ad no one suspected that I not an old hard at tbe trad -. It took me nearly ad day to paint tbe s.gns o n tbe windows, but when I had finished them the sal lonkeepers congratulated me on thl work and said that I would have D’entv t before I left the camp. He gave' me mv iix on the spot, and 1 felt that I had stnick * pretty rich mine, even if the snow was still on the mountains. uu 1 ha f t ° rde , rs for g'B poured in upon me and I was kept busy. I charged tr Z mendous prices for my work and made easily from §2O to s3u a day. With ;, r , tice I became much more proficient than r hal been at first, and the* f had discovered a barkeeper who had formerly been painter. I took him into mv confidence and received in return many valuable su*’ gestions and much practical adv.ee °r rented a cabin and set up a regular shoo there. About two weeks after I had first gone to work, the real sign painter, whoso personality I had assumed, came into came W neu he f >und, however, that there was sign painter already in Rio he did not stay, but pushed on to another camp whre he would have no comoetitio I was not sorry to see him go. One day a man cams to me while I was at work and said: “Say, are you a house painter and panor hanger as well as a sign painter?” “Certainly,” I ans werei; "one doesn’t be come a sign painter until he has mastered the other branches of the trade.” “Well,” he said, “I wish you would comeuD to a house that I have just built, aid figure for me how much white lead, linseed oil and turpentine I will need to paint it inside’ and out. I want you to tell me als i how much paper I will need to naper it through out.” 6 “I’ll run up and let you know in a dav nr so,” I said. 3 “But I want to know to-day, I am going down to Durango to-morrow,'and I think I can get the material cheaper there. Taen I want to know what you will charge me to do the paper hanging and painting. Can’t you come with me now!” “Impossible!” I answered. “I am fear fully rushed to-day. But I will run U t> some time before dark and let you know ” v He went away, and as soon as he was out of sight I went straight to th > barkeeper who had been a painter, and told him that I wanted him to go with mo and make the es imates. He c onsented to do it, but told me that he was afraid that I had tackled more than I could accomplish. He made the estimates for me and I gave them to the owner of the house. He went to Durango and, all too soon for my comfort, announced that the material had arrived and that he wanted me to go to work on his house I put him off as long as I could, but ha was very anxious to get his house completed and after many long consultations with mv ex-painter I at last fixed upon the following Monday to go to work. I was sitting in my cabin on the preceding Saturday, won dering what I should do, when two strangers walked in. “Are you the painter?” one of them asked. “1 am.” “My partner here and I are painters, too —house paiuters. I thought maybe you could give us some work. We just struck the camp and we’re broke.” “I’m always glad to help a fellow work man,” I said benignantly. “Yes; I can give you some work. I’ll pay you §4 a day. You can stay i ere in my cabin aud go to work oo Monday.” It is hardly necessary to say that I put them to work on the new nouse. They were good workmen and I made money on the job. By tho time they were thr iugh I had received several more orders and I kept them busy. I bossed tho job3, and. after I had watched them for awhile, I condo-ced ed to help them now aud then. Neither of them suspected that I was not a painter. In two months I had six men working for me. There was a building boom in Rico, and I had all that I and my men could do. I made plenty of money and enjoyed tbe work. But again I was stricken with the fatal mining fever, aud one day I sold out my business, including the good will, and went into the mountains to “prospect.” Two months later I was broke again, and ail that I ha i to show for my time and money was several rather uusightlv holes in the ground. I had not "struck it.” 'if I had stuck to my curiously acquired trade aud grub-staked other prospectors, I might have made a fortune. There are plenty of fortunes to be made in the mioing regions of Colorado, but my experience has been that they are made by those who never swung a pick or held a drill in their lives. I never saw an old pros pector yet who was not either broke or next door to ir. If be did happen to sell a mine aid get a little money, tie was certain to go and reiigiously sink it in the ground again trying to develop some worthies claim. LUTE ON A WATER FARM. There ia Froflt in Raisinar Fi3h and Frogs fer Market. From the Indianapolis New. * It has not been many years since water farming was added to the possibilities of “agriculture” in Indiana It began as a diversion. It has become a business. Enough time has now elapsed to demon strate that water farming may be made practicable and profitable—at least as prof itable as some other rural occupauous, and more enticing than the ordinary life of an agriculturist. As much money can be made off an acre of water as off an acre of land, including well-located fish and frog ponds ou one the hauda id ordinary farming on the other. One of the pioneers in water farming in Indiana is Joseph Manlove of Milton. Seven years ago he bought a small piece of low land lving between tbe Whi e Water canal and White Water river. He determined to flood the lowland and to add t > his posei sions the high la id for park purposes. His place now includes fourteen acres of water and twenty-one of laud. His business is largely with tbe water and only inci dentally with the dry land. His first pur pose was to establish a carp pond, from winch the fish market might be supplied. This was accomplished in ta o veai s witn comparative ease. Now he has practically an unlimued quanty of this variety of fish. However, the public tast s also calls for bass, and Manlove determined to add this variety to bis supply. His lake is now stocked with a vast supply of black ba-*. They have grown finely, and nex: year bass fishing will be “put on the market.” BjvJ promiso so much bettor than carp tbs- Farmer Manlove use* his y ung carp “ 3 food for his bass. Still another "department” has ” ,n added to the “farm” this season — t: ► Four acres of shallow w ater, well grown in flags, were set apart as a breeding place f'” frogs. They breed and grow rapidly. r m “ thousand tadpoles were nut in this breeding pen early in the sprin t. Many of them now of a marketable size. Next sea they will bo giants—big teu-ineb lo g ou tivated” bull fr >gs, wort i $2 50 and*- dozen—not the little marsh frog, hut _ big fellows with Herr Fischer voice , catching them for mar.e! a light at ink" •' used. They stare at the liuht and can caught and handled with ease iu its g “ in catching large quauti lies of carp lake is drained off. Iu winter the marin-v --able fish are kept in small ponds. It is interesting to observe the farmer at bis work. He can me a hors side purposes, but he needs neither \i B • planter or reap©-. Bupiwse no g l,u to feed. He has wit i him in.d Ur g-' r - other grain. He goes 11 the breedingr””. sounds agoig or blows 11 ,? ,h r thousands of frogs come boppb'k , “ A shelter. They oat t e food raveno i*T become so tamo that the farmer n them as a woman and >• her l mt f r ‘‘ oun Tne same food is just the ibl g 1 r • ' and old carp, “rl h and grain and grain product’," s*)' 1 , / ‘ love, “like a b <y takes to appl- ” Hart of the was a iu* not iieo*ary • <j , my stock at all. The water gi . <t make the flues! of food for th’ n " “ " this time of the yer 1 rarely p'*T fr the table that I do not niio with giu • kOL-ds.”