IN A BARN.
THE LOUISIANA LOTTERY COMPA
NY CONDUCTS ITS DRAWINGS.
A Queer Story by an Atlanta Gentle
man Fresh From Spanish
The numerous local patrons of the
Louisiana Lottery Co. are aware that
it has changed the base of its operations
from New Orleans to Spanish Hon
duras. When it was evident that it
was about to be drawn out of its old
stamping grounds, the Company look
ed around for new quarters, and final
ly settled on Spanish Honduras as the
most available point. It is reasonably
near and has the advantage of a very
flexible code of morals.
It was accordingly given out that
the Company would establish a grand
Casino at that point, and make it the
Monte Carlo of America. Port Cortez
was hit upon as the best point in the
country, and some time ago it was an
nounced that the lottery’ had estab
lished itself there.
Very few Americans have ever even
heard of Port Cortez, and the imagina
tion had a good field in picturing a
beautiful Spanish pleasure spot un
troubled by’ wintry weather or unkind
post office inspectors. The other day’
a well known Atlanta gentleman re
turned from a trip to Central America,
and gave The Looking Glass some
interesting information as to the facts
of the case.
“ I was at Poit Cortez a couple of
weeks ago,” he said, “ it is four days
journey from New Orleans, and is
about 80 miles south of Beliza. the
chief port in British Honduras. I
went down out of curiosity to take a
look at the establishment of the Lot
tery Company that I had heard so
“ Port Cortez is a Spanish village of
perhaps 500. It lies on the Carribean
sea and is encircled by a chain of 'keys’
or small islands. It is a picturesque
place but of no commercial importance
whatever, being a mere banana station.
In the midst of the little cluster of
native huts that compose the village
is the building of the Lottery’ Co. It
is a mere frame barn built up on spiles
and was occupied while I was there
by an old care-keeper and his wife.
“ I was naturally’ surprised, and
made some inquiries. It seems, from
report, that the Company’ gave Val
quez, the ex-president, $200,000 for the
privilege of, doing business there, but
a short time after, Valquez was defeat
ed by Beuillo, who is now in control,
and the “fixing” will have to be done
all over again. The building I saw was
put up and once a month the officials
came down from Tampa and had a
drawing there. They are all alone
unless they admit some of the na
‘•'They come down in a vessel of
their own called the ‘Clearwater’ that
sails from Port Tampa, where the real
business of the concern is done. The
rest is all a mere bluff to evade the
law. At Port Tampa the printing of
the Company’ is turned out by Graham
Bros., who have their main house at
Palatka. The main offices of the
Company are popularly’ supposed to
be at Graham’s establishment.
“ Taken altogether,” the gentlemen
continued, “ I was not very’ favorably
impressed. It may be all right and it
may not. Ore thing is certain —if the
Company wants to tamper with the
returns there is nobody there to see
them do it.”
This will be interesting news to the
folks who invest their little dollar or
two every month in the lottery.
BfIILEY & CARROLL, Sole flgts. for Lemp’s Celebrated Bottled Beer. 43 Peachtree St. ’Phone 1039
Captain Evan P. Howell told me a
delightful story the other day illustra
tive of the great big heart of Col. Pat.
Walsh. The Col., as is pretty’ well
known, sprung from honest but hum
; ble ancestry. His father came to
; Charleston from the old sod when the
' future senator was a little shaver of
five, and while a laboring man, was
universally’ respected for Ins integrity,
kindness and hard horse sense. Some
years ago, Capt. Howell tells me, Col.
Walsh was in bad health and was
advised to go to the seashore. He
went to the New Brighton, the well
known seaside resort off Charleston.
While in the city’ he met a number of
his father’s old friends and determined
to give them a little surprise. They
were all people in humble walks of
life to whom a holiday was a rare and
memorable incident. The Colonel
chartered a steamer and carried a
hundred or so of the old folks to the
palatial hotel where he gave them such
a day of unmixed pleasure and such a
dinner as they’ had never had in all
■ their lives.
The swell boarders at New Brighton
I were inclined too look askance at the
I strange guests in their humble attire,
; but little the genial Col. cared. He
mingled with them, showered them
with a thousand attentions and sent
them home feeling younger and bright
er and better than they had felt for
many a year. The only’ condition he
made was that not a word should get
in the papers about it.
That is the kind of a man Pat
It is only’ tit for tat to repeat a
pretty good story’ that Col. Walsh
delights to tell at the expense of Capt.
At the beginning of Cleveland’s
term, so the tale runs, there was a
meeting of the National Press Asso
ciation at Washington, and the mem
bers called en masse on the President.
Capt. Howell, as president of the
association, acted as master of cere
monies and performed the introduc
At that time, says Col. Walsh, and
he always chuckles as he savs it,
Cleveland was debating between Capt.
Howell and Hoke Smith as a member
! of his cabinet, but had almost decided
on the Captain on account of his con
spicuous position in southern affairs.
In fact it was his intention to offer
him the portfolio on the following day.
Before entering into the august
presence, Capt. Howell had taken a
liberal chew from a plug of “navy”
he had in his coat tail pocket, and
after the introductions were completed
he desired to expectorate and took a
careful aim at an adjoining cuspidor.
He missed it.
“That spit,” says Col. Walsh, “cost
him the Secretaryship of the Interior.”
One of the victims of the Redwine
case was Jennie Hammond. She was
a fallen woman, to be sure, but that
The Looking Glass.
episode sent her swiftly’ and irrevoka
bly to the gutter. A few days ago she
was arrested in a horrible den run by
negroes in Birmingham, and fined for
fighting. She has broken greatly
since she figured before the public
here, and the chances are that she
will not live very long.
The pretty’ type-writer joke has be
come as hackneyed as spring poets,
mothers-in-law, and stove pipes, but
all the same the fair calagraph punch
ers do manage to kick up a deal of
trouble, and now-a-days beauty is a
positive detriment to a woman in the
business. In proof of this assertion I
could cite the case of one of the most
expert operators in Atlanta who re
cently’ lost her job in the shipping de
partment of a big wholesale house for
no other reason than because she was
good to look at. The proprietor—
there are two in the firm, but one of
them does the “bossing”—believed
that the presence of such a handsome
creature demoralized his employees,
and there is likely some truth in the
assertion. At any’ rate there was so
much trouble and laxity of discipline
while she was there that he was forced
reluctantly’ to give her notice.
The poor girl wept bitterly when
she was dismissed. She could not
help her good looks, and tried to do
her duty, but it was of no avail.
A well known teacher of type writ
ing and short hand verified the truth
of this the other day, and remarked
that he could get six ugly girls posi
tions where he could locate one pretty
one. Queer, isn’t it.
lam told that the comments in
last weeks paper on the present status
of the Central railroad, filled the offi
cials of that crippled corporation wich
virtuous indignation. This is very
sad, but it does not alter the facts of
the case. The experiment of putting
an unexperienced outsider in charge
of a railroad simply because he is hon
est has been tried before on divers and
sundry occasions, and has never been
a conspicuous success. Honesty’ is a
very good thing and a rare quality—
in railroad management, but it is
scarcely all of the business, President
Comer’s intentions are no doubt all
right, but he is handicapped by a vast
and monumental fund of ignorance
on the subject in hand. What he
don’t know about railroads would fill
a public library.
Col. Pepper, the Tillman constable
shot at Darlington, was fairly well
known throughout Georgia. I had a
long talk with him at Savannah last
fall, and found him a decidedly inter
esting man. He had come over to
head off a schooner loaded with liquor
consigned to Charleston, and in the
course of conversation said :
“I am in this business for what I
can get out of it. Do I like it? No
of course I don’t, but it pays well and
everybody’ is ‘out for the stuff’ now
“I don’t believe the dispensary law
will ever prove a success,” he con
tinued. “the opposition is too bitter.
All tne same Tillman is in dead
earnest, and will stop at nothing to
accomplish what he believes to be
right. He is a much better man
than he has been painted, and is
personally kind and generous. The
actions of the constables have been
grossly misrepresented by the South
Carolina press, and that is one rea
son why the people are so incensed
against them. As far as I know they
have been exceedingly careful not to
overstep their legal rights.”
Pepper was a rather weather-beaten
looking man of perhaps 43 or 44. His
complexion was sandy, and when I
saw him he was roughly dressed. A
handsome diamond ring and fine gold
watch testified, however, to the truth
of what he said in regard to the re
wards of his vocation.
He did not succeed in stopping
thh schooner. A false clew threw him
off and it sailed along unmolested
All the early planted flower and garden
seeds. But that’s nothing. A. H. Mc-
Millan, at 35 Marietta street, has plenty
more, enough of all the best varieties,
to supply Georgia. See him before buy
Toilet Paper Holder.
LOWRY HARDWARE COMPANY.
60 PEACHTREE ST.
14 Year Old Kentucky Whiskies.
DR. W. A. MONNISH,
Physician and Surgeon.
SPECIALTIES: Diseases of Women, Diseases of
Skin and Nervous System.
Offices removed to Chamberlin & Johnson bldg.,
cor. Mitchell and Hunter sts., room 2, third floor,
Atlanta, Ga. Hours from 9am. to 1 p.m; 2.30p.m.
toSp.m. Take elevator. Mrs. Rosa 1 .Monnish,M.
D., will retain her present office, cor. Peachtree