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COACHMEN’S SECRET CO )f. — Bow Drivers ot Chicago Riga Coma nl cate With One Another. Signaling has become a fine art In vat- So it has among the private coachm n of the wealthy residents of Chicago. O eof the first things a coachman must letun is to look dignified. If his employer should find or hear him speaking to a fellow coachman while on the boulevard, there would be a sign hung on the stable door, “Coachman Wanted.” Even though he wears skin tight trousers, a coat shining with all the luster of a score of brass but tons and a plug hat with a peacock feather on the side, he is still human. The coach man has friends, and he wants to exchange greetings with them. The club of coachmen of this city is well known for its society affairs given once a year in the shape of a grand ball. While they are waiting the arrival of the ball they hold meetings and discuss coach var nish, toe clips and silver harness. At one of the gatherings or meetings the coach man turned to discussing the Morse sys tem of telegraphing. “I say, you fellows,” exclaimed one of the party as he jumped to his feet, “I have an idea. It is a capital one, don’t you know?” “Now, what is getting through youse, James,” said a coachman with a red face and the character ot County Cork on bis face. “Why, it’s this, Patrick, my boy,” re plied the first driver. “You know that Harold will not allow us to speak to each other on the street. Nor will Potter or Phil, and, in fact, none of the boys. Now, my scheme is this: Why can we not turn this Morse man’s system of wire talking into the coachman’s ‘system of whip talk ing?’ " The suggestion at first was in a compli cated form, but James managed to make his scheme clear, and today “coachmen talk” with their long whips can be seen daily on any of the streets of Chicago. To the person unacquainted with the code the flashing of whips, describing odd circles and a liberal arm play, would seem noth ing more than mere fancy movements on the part of the dignified driver, but to the hundred or more drivers who under stand what a fellow coachman means when he gives three rapid whirls of his whip, with two short cracks at the end, it is all very simple. The three whirls of the whip from right to left, with the short cracks of the whip, mean this to the man who understands it: “I’m up against it. Out with the young one returning S(J or more calls. Sympathy Wanted.” \ If there is. tjme for an answer, the coach man who Jias been addressed may return his answer with two long up and down movements of his arm with the whip, and then four crosscuts of the lash. This means, “We are shopping, late luncheon and last act at matinee. ” Driving down Michigan avenue three carriages may bo close together. Some times the drivers manage to keep the car riages side by side. This is when the oc cupants keep a close watch on their coach men, and if they but dare nod their heads their positions are in danger. One of the coachmen employed by a well known resident of the Lake Shore drive told a reporter for The Chronicle that the secret code was known to but a hundred drivers. The grooms of the stables do not know the private signals, and those that do know them are bound to keep them secret. One of the interesting whip signals is made in the following manner: The driver grasps his whip a few inches from the butt, sweeps it back and forth in a graceful manner seven times, drops the long lash in a drooping manner and then pushes the whip up and down a score of times in a'violent fashion. This means: “The old man out last night. Plenty on board. Wife cried, then hot. Fired Molly, head girl, because ice water did not reach him in time. Regular h to pay.” The art is used more at receptions. While the occupants of the carriages are in the house the coachmen line up along the street and carry on their small talk. “At the best,” said one of the coach men, “we are a lot held down by strict orders. We are not allowed to bow or speak on the street If we do, we lose our positions or receive a warning that the next time it happens it will be all off. We got up this code partly for our own amuse ment, and then we can really talk. AVe have about 200 signals, and we have had them printed. Each member of the Coach men’s Signaling association has a copy of the rules. It is dead easy to fool the old man now.”—Chicago Chronicle. Drinking Water. Dr. Austin Flint, Sr., used to say, “Plenty of water, plenty of water outside and in for health.” Since his day doctors generally have more and more strongly recommended water drinking, till now a certain and large number of glasses of water per day is one of the most familiar prescriptions from some of the best doctors at the best sanitariums in the land. High authorities now tell us that often the basis of success in the hot waters is neither the heat nor the minerals, but the water. The water is what the system of the patient was need ing. We are taught now that there is no dan ger of drinking too much water and a good deal of not drinking enough. Os course that is not disputing the fact that it is very easy to drink too much ice water when wo are warm and too much of any kind with our meals. A practitioner and instructor at Belle vue recommends everyone to drink a pint of water on getting up in the morning and a pint on going to bed at any temper ature he likes. This is a hygienic sug gestion, not a medicinal one. This very successful practitioner thinks it is the best way of giving the system needed liquid and declares many irregularities disappear under this regime. The water, mind, is not, however, to be gulped down at one or two drafts. A half hour or more while dressing or undressing should be given to sipping the two glasses. j This same physician recommends a good drink of water when we feel tirtfd or faint—in that state that generally makes us turn to tea or coffee or wine. The water has an almost equally reviving effect and much better results in the long run.—St Paul Pioneer Press. . A Memorial Bell Tower. A remarkable college memorial is the boll tower to contain a chime of 11 bells which is being built on' the grounds of the lowa Agricultural collegqZ at Ames. It is in memtwy of Margaret McDonald Stan ton, wife of the professor of political econ omy in the college. The tower. Js being built by the state in appreciation-of Mrs. Stanton’s services as an educator and as a founder of the college. The bells are to be the gift of Professor Stanton. Woman’s title to official appreciation seems to be frankly recognized in lowa.—Harper’s Weekly. | AT THE WATERLOO BALL. I*dy Loxlaa TigWlß IntereaUß* Story es That Thrilllag Time. An example of how near to us is the yesterday of romance and song may ba found in the recent death at her quiet home in Ireland of Lady Louisa Tighe, one of the women 4rho danced at the fa mous Brussels ball before the battle of Waterloo. Every one who has read Byron —and it is getting fashionable to read Byron once more—remembers the poet’s description of the ball, but it is given to few nowadays to have actually met and conversed with a belle of that stilting oc casion. Not many months ago a girl spent an hour dr so with Lady Louisa Tighe in her eon’s house of Woodstock. She was of that refreshing type—the charming old lady. One would easily understand how Louisa Tighe bad .once been a beauty, despite the wrinkles and crow’s feet which carking cares had left upon her face. “Bemember-tbe ball before Waterloo?” said she. “My dear, could yon expect me to forget it? Everybody, I fancy, has a supreme event in his or her life. That was my supreme event. “I was staying at the British embassy, and in our party there were many lovely girls, now long since dead and gone. For weeks we had talked of the ball and of what we should wear. Girls were much the same then aS they are today, and not even the return of Napoleon from Elba and the renewal of war seemed half so im portant to us as the approaching ball. '‘ My dress—l have it still—was a plain white muslin, and over it I wore a Hue sash, as became a debutante. There was no fear for any lack of partners, for Brus sels was full of young officers, and in the army of occupation no less than 25 of my own near relatives, all young men and nearly all of some dancing ability. You can easily picture, my dear, the flutter which their proximity gave ufl. “The great night came at last, none too soon for us. I knew quite well that Na poleon was marching on Brussels, but the thought disturbed me little, for I had al ready ten names upon my dancing list, and the prospect was altogether delight ful. “It was a most enjoyable ball, but Byron was wrong when he described us as turning pale and listening with horror to the distant roar of cannon. The truth was that wo heard no cannon at all. Indeed the three bands and the company of high land pipers would have drowned the roar of all Bonaparte's ordnance at such a dis tance. “Indeed it was not until I missed the Duke of Brunswick from the ballroom that I really knew what was ooming. The honored name of ‘Brunswick’s fated chief tain’ was upon my tablets for a dance, but when I looked around for the duke I could see him nowhere. In going, however, he was polite, for he left a callow aid-de-camp to tell me the truth about the ooming bat tle. It is rather romantic, but that callow aid-de-camp eventually became my hus band. “Our acquaintance began at the Brus sels ball, when he showed both tact and kindliness in setting my fears at rest and actually danced with me the particular number opposite to which the Duke of Brunswick’s name had been set. “I staid with Lord Clancarty’s family until after Waterloo had been fought and won. We did not rejoice very much at the victory, I fear, as the thousands of poor fellows coming In dead and wounded were not conducive to enjoyment.” Lady Louisa Tighe preserved to the last the white ball dress in which she danced at Brussels. The dance card on which the ill fated Duke of Brunswick’s name had been inscribed was unfortunately lost 25 years ago during a fire.—Exchange. The Value- of Literature. “What is it?” asked the old farmer, looking askance at the bag which the book canvasser had dropped on the ground with a weary air. “I have some of the most entertaining and instructive literature of the day here, sir,” answered the canvasser, endeavoring to brighten up a little in order to secure a purchaser. “In these days of education, when our sons and daughters have been trained”— “Ain’t got n<Jhe,” interrupted the farm er gruffly and ungrammatically. “I have an assortment of books, sir, to suit all,” continued the canvasser, “and any which I may not have In stock I can get on the shortest notice. Here are”— And he proceeded to rattle off the names of half a dozen as he pulled them out of his bag. "I’m afeared you ain’t got the kind I want,” said the farmer after a careful survey of the exteriors. “ This one seems to be the nearest. How much is it?” “That, sir, is 5 shillings,” replied the canvasser. “Here, take it back,” said the farmer. “I want somethin cheap. You see,” he added, “I don’t read 'em, but they comes in handy like. If it’s got a leather cover, it does very well for a razor strop. If it’s thick, ft oomes in fust rate to put under the drawers or the table when the foot or the caster oomes off. If it's big, it’ll do to hold the winder up. And I like ’em with a fastener, so as the book won’t fly open and get the leaves smeared with mud when I throw it at the dog. No, I don’t think you’ve got any as will do for me.” —Pearson’s Weekly. English. Professor Skeat of Cambridge has a few pointed words to say about the dislike of some of his countrymen for the term “English.” Ina recently published let ter he wrote thus: "Those who wish to substitute British have entirely forgot that if any one has a grievance in this matter it is clearly the Londoner, for London is in Middlesex, the land of the middle Saxons, whereas this extraneous word ‘English’ ignores the Saxons as com pletely as it does the Scotch, just as the word ‘British* Ignores Ireland. However, we shall have to move, it would seem, with the times, and we shall soon have before us a proposal that we must all talk of the Amerioo- Anstralio - Canado-Cape-of- Good - Hopo - Great-Brltish -and-Irish lan - guago or probably something still more comprehensive in order to avoid wounding the peculiar feelings of those to whom the very name of England Is an abomination. Only one thing stands at present in the way—viz, that there happen to be several million people still left to whom the name of England is no such thing, and these millions Include foreigners out of every nation under heaven.” Picked Him Out. A teacher was introducing a lesson on “A Flint Stone” by a few remarks upon the primitive savage. After detailing many characteristics he wound up with: “He was very rough, using no knife or fork, but eating with his fingers. Now, Who was this?” Johnny—Please, sir, our lodger, sir.”— London Tit-Bits. ANOTHER "SPITE” BUILDING. Curious Stracturc on a Re.aaaat oC *ks De Peyster Propc ty. A “spite store,” which oir does the well known Richardson "spite L jute” on the east side, has just been co: pleted in the west end at West End avenue, the Boule vard and Ono Hundred and Eighth street. The store Is one of the smallest buildings ever put up for the transaction of busi ness. It fa 1» feet in depth and 0 feet to width at One Hundred and Eighth street, tapering to a sharp point at thesouth end. It is two stories in height, and the occu pant of the upper floor will be compelled to ascend and descend upon a ladder. It has a single wall of brick extending along the rear. The front is of steel, with plate glass windows, and the roof is of tile. This curious structure is erected upon a remnant of the Do Peyster estate and orig inally belonged to a large tract of land purchased by the De Peyster family short ly after the close of the Resolution, when the De Peyster homestead was located up on the ground now occupied by St Luke’s hospital, One Hundred and Thirteenth street, Morningside Heights. The rem nant was left when Wegt End avenue, the Boulevard and One Hundred and Eighth street were opened, and Henry T. Cary, the executor of the De Peyster estate, has long been at a loss to know what to do with it, as Mrs. Sherman, the owner ot lots on the corner, refused to purchase it. The plot last leased for a term of years to Michael M. McDermott of St Nicholas avenue, and be immediately be gan to erect the tiny store upon his claim. Mrs. Sherman, the owner of the sur rounding property, camo from Washing ton at onoe to Interfere with the work, but found she could do nothing. Mean while several persons with whom she was negotiating for the sale of her property withdrew their option when they saw the store being placed on the corner. The structure is said to have cost more than $2,000. It is erected upon a solid concrete foundation to withstand severe windstorms. The lower floor has been fitted as a refreshment booth for bicyclists, the roof has also been leased to a stereop ticon advertising firm, and the upper floor is designed as showrooms for specialties. —New York Commercial. The Drafted Soldier. Onida stoutly denies that the soldier is the highest type of humanity or that obe dience is the highest human virtue. The obedience which is exacted from the sol dier is very much like slavery, and It is no moral act and teaches no virtue. “There is no servant, groom, artisan, farm laborer or hireling of any kind so lazy, so impudent, so insubordinate and so useless as the young man who has recently come out from his term of compulsory service. When Lord Wolseley utters the preposter ous declaration that the education given by conscription teaches a lad ‘all the qual ities calculated to make him a thoroughly useful and loyal citizen,’ has he the least Idea of what is the actual moral state of the barrack yards and barrack rooms of the armies of the continent? When the youth has had purity and strength of character and of mind enough to resist the contagion in which he has been steeped, he will in nine instances out of ten be a spoiled agriculturist, artisan, student, laborer. • “I can conceive nothing so appalling to the world as would be the forcing of the military temper down the throats of its en tire multitudes. Militarism is the nega tion of individuality, of originality and of true liberty. Its somber shadow is spread over Europe. Its garroting collar of steel is on the throat of the people. The whole people sweat, groan, perish, under the bur dens laid upon them for the maintenance of the vast battalions of young men im prisoned in barrack yards in enforced idle ness and semistarvation.” Collier’s Weekly. Celluloid. Though the chemical constitution of cel luloid is a matter of doubt, the art of man ufacturing this peculiar modern product is explained in a few words—an article, says The Trade Journals’ Review, made by the combined action of pressure and heat, or with the aid of solvents, in that case in the cold. The camphor is dissolved in al cohol, as little as possible, and the solution sprayed through a rose"*on to the pyroxy lin, the latter perfectly dry, a second layer of pyroxylin being then added, moistened again with camphor solution, and so on. The gelatinus lump is worked between iron rollers, to which It adheres, and the layer is slit longitudinally and rolled again. Tho cakes, .4 inch thick, are cut into plates, about 2 feet by 1 foot, and pass for 24 hours into hydraulic presses, which are doubly steam jacketed. The mass is now sawed into plates, which are dried at about 95 degrees F., for a week or two and final ly cut into smaller pieces, from which the articles are stamped. Further, according to a writer in The Gumml Zeitung, it ap pears that at Magnus & Co. 's. noted estab lishment in Berlin the method pursued is believed to consist In pouring 100 parte oF ether on 50 of collodion wool and 25 ot camphor, the covered mass being then stirred in earthenware vessels with rubber sticks until a homogeneous gelatinous mass is obtained, and then rolled. Apart from dyestuff and other additions, the average celluloid consists of two-thirds pyroxylin and one-third camphor. Alaskan Squaws. Alaskan squaws are not sensitive on the subject of their age. On the contrary, they take some trouble to make it known to the world. They wear a piece of wood or bone in the lower Up, the size of the ornament indicating the age of the owner. When a girl marries, her lower Up is pierced and a peg of wood o'r a piece of bone the size of a pea inserted. As she grows older this is increased in size until it is almost as wide as her chin and one fourth of an inch high. The result is na turally most unsightly. There is an in teresting family at Fort W ran gel which illustrates perfectly this peculiar custom. It includes four generations. A young girl may be seen sitting on one side of the one roomed square frame house, while her mother, grandmother and great-grand mother are squatted on the earthen floor near the door offering mats and baskets to the ship's passengers who come on shore. There is no disfiguring object on the girl’s chin, but there is a big one on the lip of the great - grandmother. Philadelphia Ledger. A Pauper Princess. The Infanta Isabella Ferdinands Fran ooise Josephine, aunt of the king of Spain and sister of the ex-King Francis d’ Assisi, who died the other day in poverty in a wretched inn in Paris, was the most beau tiful princess in the Spanish court 50 years ago. Her marriage in 1841 to Count Ig natius Gurowskl, a Pole, caused a rupture between her and her family. He died in 1887, leaving her penniless, and she has been living from hand to mouth ever since. • <7 * B ICELAND "PONIES. They Are Doede aad Marvels of Strength sad Rn durance. . If the camel is the s hip of the desert, the Iceland pony is the cab, train, omnibus and tram car of tho wonderful country to which he belongs. To begin with, he is a misnomer. He is not a pony in tho ordi nary sense of the word. He is a horse in bone and sinew, in strength and endur ance, in manners and deportment—a hens in everything, in fact, etlMfrt inches, and a sober, steady, hardworking horse too. Ho is a very “multum in porvo,” a “con centrated essence” of horseflesh. He can swim like a fish, climb like a goat and jump like a deer. He sticks at nothing and takes every variety of travel—bog, lava bed, sand, bowlders and grass mounds —with undisturbed equanimity. If he has to ford one or two rivers, with strong currents flowing girth deep, it is all in the day’s work. Only give him time and periodical halts for refreshment and he will do his 50 miles per day and thrive up on It. Iceland ponies are bred in hundreds in the largo grass plains in tho southern dis tricts of the island. Little or no case Is taken in selection, so the breed remains unaltered and unimproved, tho average pony standing from 1114 to 12)4 hands, though here and there one will reach to nearly 13 hands. Every variety qf color 1s seen, but skewbalds of many shades arc the commonest. Tho chestnuts, as a rule, are the finest and tho browns the hardiest. Beautiful cream colors, with light points, are not infrequent. Black is very rare, and roan also. Their paces are fast, con sidering the size of the animal, a journey of 32 miles being often done in six hours or less, with heavy baggage. They trot, canter and gallop, but the pace most es teemed by the natives is the amble or “skeld,” in which the fore and hind legs on a side are advanced simultaneously, giving a running action, very smooth to' the rider. A good pacer is considered very valuable and often sold for a high price. Some of these ponies amble so fast that they keep ahead of another going at a hand gallop, and they maintain tho pace for a day’s journey under a weight of 11 to 14 stone. Iceland ponies ctee steady and fast In harness, though wheels are a compara tively new departure in their country. They travel mostly in strings, often tied head and tail. Hay, baggage and house hold goods are thus transported, and building materials also. You meet a“tim bur lestur, ” or timber team, of from eight to ten ponies, one carrying planks trailing on each side, another strips of iron, an other bundles of tools; a certain number of spare animals running loose, and not Infrequently a foal or two. It is as rare to see a dead Iceland pony as a dead donkey, though their skulls are often visible, half trodden into the miry 'ways surrounding the farms. The pony begins work at 0 or 7 years—hard work, that is to say. He is early apprenticed to his trade by following his mother at her avocations and when he is footsore is strapped upon her back. lie works well up to 20 years and over and often remains fairly sound to a ripe old age. He feeds on the fat of the land in summer, and in winter, if his owner is poor, must live on his wits and his stored condition. Farm ers who are fairly well off keep their ani mals in during winter and feed them on hay, but notwithstanding many of the ponies have a hard time of it. The Ice landers, however, keep their steeds as well as their means allow and treat them alto gether in a brotherly fashion, and the S. P. C. A. would seldom find scope for its activity, except, possibly, in the improve ment of bitting and gearing. Taking it all around, the Iceland pony is certainly not less happy—very often far happier— than his bigger brothers in the south, and his endurance, placidity and docility make him a favorite in other lands besides his own, while fitting him for his home du ties in a manner which could not be sur passed and must be tested to be fully un derstood.—London Globe. ’ How He Got a Divorce. Here is a Judgo Gary story: It was a bigamy case, and tho accused man, after living two years with the second woman, had agreed to "plead guilty. But this was only after he had secured solemn assur ance from the state attorney that his consequent sentence would absolutely di vorce him from wife No. 2. He wished it understood that he was willing to suffer a term in the penitentiary if on release that superfluous woman, whom he had taken as a result of great misapprehension, would have no possible claim upon him. So he went into court. “You fully understand what the plea of guilty means, do you?" asked Judge Gary, regarding tho devoted man with great kindness. “Yqk, your honor “lywill bo my duty in that case to sen tence you to the penitentiary. You un derstand that?” J/Yes, your honor. Anything to get 99 Judge Gary seemed to be writing a mo ment, and then he said grimly and with out looking up: “I suppose there are some things beside which prison would be a re lief. Any relative or friend of the defend ant in court?” A solitary woman stood up in the benches and said in a rasping, nerve shat tering voice: “I’m his second wife, judge.” The man of law looked at her without lifting his head or suspending his pretend ed writing. Then he said in his usual searching tone: “Some things beside which prison would be a relief. You ought to be willing to take three years.” The prisoner nodded cheerfully. "Then I will give you one year. You seem to have had the other two before they arrested you. ” Chicago Post. The Campaign “Orator.” One of the saddest things about a cam paign is the fact that a great many men who haven’t sense enough to pound sand go about making wild and incoherent Speeches for Tom, Dick and Harry. Gen erally they are gentlemen who are out of work and who couldn’t earn 00 cents a month at honest toil, yet they have no hes itation whatever In telling the people how to run the municipal machine without losing money on it Their speeches are poor, halting, stammering efforts that make reasonable men sigh and moan, but the gifted gentlemen are totally uncon scious of this, for they continue to whoop it up for their chosen candidate, just as though they were making the hit of their lives. Before the campaign is at an end they accumulate such a gall that they come to imagine themselves gifted craton upon whom the mantle of Henry Clay has settled for keeps, and whenever they go out to take a walk they think that every body along the street Is pointing the finger of admiration at them. The fact is the av erage man has no business trying to make a speech. Such seldom fail to make sick ening spectacles of themselves whenever they attempt U.—New York Telegram. | SEE n.rmr... I THAT THE Il flw ■ IIR H fac-si M I LE PrcparalionforAsJ | SIGNATURE slmilating the Food andßetfufeL- il tjqglhfcSiQinadisaiMißawdsQff ■ OF Promote s Digestion,Cheerful - ■ mess and HestjCofl tains neither Opram,MorphinO nor Mineral. ■ rg HPTTP: Not Narcotic. ■ WRAPPER I I ' EVERY , I I BOTTLE OF A perfect Remedy for Cons lipa- H ■ Ki tion. Sour Stomach,Diarrhoea, Mil ft | Worms .Convulsions,Feverish- ft 1 ■■ WI || I ness and Loss of Sleep. MljiflO Tac Simile Signature of ■ ■ * - « » ■„ - "" NEW YORK. ft Castor! ais pvt np la one-ska bottles caly. If MMnriTWffWffITIWFHTrSpBH «oM ia bulk. tlon’t allow .rnycEO to «]T oa anything cn tho plea or promite is RC-J*and "will o-.sv tvety pur- H P***’" **" Ecß I” 0-A-8-T-0-1-W. —GET YOUB — JOB PRINTING DONE JSr The Morning Call Office. ■ We have just supplied our Job Office with a complete line <*i Btationcrr kinds and can get up, on short notice, anything wanted in the way or LETTER HEADS, BILL HEADS. STATEMENTS, IRCULARB, ' ENVELOPES, NOTES, MORTGAGES, PROGRAMS, JARDS, POSTERS r. ' DODGERS, ETC., ETC We c*rry tue >et Ineof ENVEJ/ifES vm iTytc’ : An aiiracavc POSTBR cf aay size can be issued on short notice Our prices for work of all kinds will compare favorably with those obtained von any office in the state. When you want job printing of 1 any dtnriptlcn |ive » * !> call Satisfaction guaranteed. ALL WORK DONE With Neatness and Dispatch. Out of town orders will receive g prompt attention ' J. P. & S B. Sawtell. "cEiral if ™ milimhT *7* Schedule in Effect Jan. 9, 1898. .■* -* ' Ute tej: Ste. fc,, 1 . | sass si? JgH iSK JSSBSS IgS SUimt 690 pm SIJan.LT «131» ’js»“ 7 • Mpm ao6pn> VttamAr BarnerriDe Lt S«Bpm tilaaa «<7a» t7 40pm tUtepm Ar.... Thomaston. Lt taoopm tiooam J?h p “ Forsyth Lv SMpm Jjgam »gaia ass SSSassfi::::::::::::::.:tei“:”.:::E iSS ?SS fSS ,» w »—... aUnn SSjpmAr Millen. LvDMam »*P- »”£ Carrollton leavesGrtfln at »ss am. and 1 s# pw dally •»«*?♦ S^SmSKSfiK&’S" 8 "" B. H. HINTON. Trafflo Manager. Savannah, Ga.