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THE FIRST LOYE.
If my memory serves me right I had
reached that stage in life when I
sought anxiously in the glass for the
long expected down that was to form
the nucleus of a mustache that should
be the envy of mankind when I decided
to marry Mollie, the doctor’s cook.
Looking back—It Is a long way to look
—Jam ready to admit that there were
many objections to such a match. To
begin with, 1 was somewhat young to
think of matrimony, insomuch that I
had only reached the age of 15, while
Mollie was six or seven years my se¬
nior. Again, I was not in a position
to support a wife, and, as I see now, my
affections were inspired rather by Mol-
lie's excellent cheesecakes and succu¬
lent jam rolls—which invariably made
me sigh for half a dozen appetites—
than by her buxom figure and apple¬
like cheeks.
When I Informed my “chum,” But¬
ters, of my resolve, he looked at me
Queerly, thrust his hands in his pock¬
ets, and said, “Oh, Lor’!”
“I mean it,” I said.
“Well, 1 always thought you were a
bit sweet on her, ever since you broke
your arm and she used to give you
cream and stuff. She's a jolly girl, is
Mollie. I wouldn’t mind marrying her
myself.
“You’ll he my best man, then?” I
asked,
"Certainly, hut look,here, old chap,
have you thought seriously about
this?” and he hooked his arm through
mine and drew me aside.
"Seriously?”
"Yes; have you thought what a heap
of things people want who get mar¬
ried?”
"What sort of things?”
“Oh! chairs and tables and—and fry¬
ing pans. Where do you expaat to
get ’em from? They cost an awful
lot."
I was silent. To tell the truth, I
bad not considered the practical side
of the question.
My affection was above all sordid de¬
tails.
“There’s a house, too,” Butters pur¬
sued. “Where are you going to live?”,
"Oh!—er—we shall go on as we are
for a bit.”
Butters stared.
“You mean, Mollie’ll stop at the doc-
l
\r Mm
fell
t J
w-IaV'- n
A i
WE FOUHT rr OWT,
tor’s, and you’ll go on having les-
ons?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! but that’s ‘rot,’ you know. We
can’t have a married man in the
School. The doctor won’t stand It.”
“He’ll never know, fat head. It’s
going to be a secret marriage.”
“Oh, crikey! At the registry office?”
I nodded.
“I wonder how much it costs. I shall
have to ask.”
“You’d better ask Mollie first,” But¬
ters returned. "She may object to a
secret marriage. There’ll be no call¬
ing her name out before the congrega¬
tion or cake or presents. I say, old
ebap, fancy a wedding without oake or
presents. Why, people get heaps of
nobby things when they’re married.
Silver cigarette cases and walking
©ticks.”
I kicked the gravel ruefully.
“It can’t be helped,” I answered re¬
gretfully. “After all, it’ll be more ro¬
mantic.”
"Why, yes; there is that about it.
You might elope with her, you know.
Get her through the window, and have
a rope ladder and a coach and four
•waiting in the lane. Only she’s rather
a lump to pull through a window. I
say, what'a lark it would be if she
Btuck and the doctor nabbed you. My!
•what a wopping you’d get.”
I am afraid I betrayed some symp¬
toms of uneasiness here. Butters had
a nasty habit of looking on the black
plde of things. But his words did not
damp my passion. I loved Mollie—I
felt certain on this point. Yes, I loved
her, though it would hare taken me all
my time to encircle her waist with both
arms. There was a pause.
“You’ll tell me how you do it?” But¬
ters said.
"How I do what?”
"Why, propose, you know.”
“Oh—er—yes.”
‘Shall you kiss her?”
“Shall I?”
“They generally do, only you’ll have
to stand on a stool to do it, for she’s
a good head taller than you, and mind,
when you propose you’ll have to go
down on your knees.”
“On my knees?"
“It’s the proper thing I know, be¬
cause I saw young Evergreen propose
to my sister Flo. She refused him,
though. By the by, you’ll want a ring.
I’ll give you that one I got out of the
prize packet for your white rat.”
“Let’s have a look at it.”
He pulled It out. It looked very like
gold, and In a few minutes I had part-
ad with my white rat, and the ring
was transferred to my waistcoat
pocket.”
“When shall you see her?” he asked,
as the bell rang.
"Perhaps tomorrow.’’
“I wouldn’t put on my best pants 11
I were you. It makes an awful mess
of 'em, kneeling does.”
That evening I had a quiet stroll In
the doctor’s grounds, to think matters
over. While I was thus engaged James,
the gardener, came along with the
watering can. As a rule, wo fellows
were seldom on good terms with
James, for he always suspected us of
having designs on his fruit, but this
evening he was quite pleasant and
asked me if I’d like a pear to come
with him. Of course I did, for James’
pears are just prime. It was a real
juicy one he picked, and it melted in
my mouth like butter.
“Good—ain’t It, Master Carraway?”
he said.
I nodded. My mouth was too full
to speak.
"Now, I wonder if I might be so bold
as to ask you to do me a favor, Master
Carraway?” he went on, eyeing me a
bit doubtfully.
“Why, of course you may, James.
I’ll do anything for you I can.”
"Thank you sir, thank you kindly.
It ain’t much—only just to give this
letter to Mollie, the cook. You see,
Master Carraway, I don’t like goin' tc
the house over-often, for the other ser¬
vants they plague Mollie about it, an’
she don’t like it; so if you’d kindly
give It to her you’d be doin’ me a
great favor.”
"Oh, I’ll give 11 to her right enough.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s—It’s rather
important.” Then James stopped,went
red and smiled foolishly.
“Important, is it?”
“Yes, sir. I know you’re a sensible
young gent, Master Carraway. I’ve
often said so to Mollie, so I don’t mind
telling you that it’s about gettin’ mar¬
ried.”
“About-”
“Yes, sir. I’ve been thinking of it
for some time, an’ now the doctor’s
give me a rise, an’ I’ve got Joe Barnes'
cottage, I don’t see any reason why
we should wait any longer. It’s most
as cheap to keep two as one, Master
Caraway, an’ she's a capital manager.
I don’t see hs ’ow I can do better.”
“Who is she, James?” I asked, not,
it must be confessed, without a touch
of misgiving.
He looked at me in surprise.
"Who? Why, Mollie.”
“You’re—you’re going to marry
her?”
“Yes, sir. The banns’ll be put up
on Sunday, and I’ve brought the ring.
A guinea I give for it. But ’ve anoth¬
er pear, Master Carraway.”
But I had no heart for pears at that
,
moment, and I made my way back to
the house, scarcely heeding James’ re¬
minder about the letter.
Perhaps I had some thought of de¬
stroying that missive, but then I re¬
flected that such an act could do no
good. Everything was practically set¬
tled. Mollie was lost to me forever.
I told Butters, and asked him to take
back the ring, as I had no further use
for It, but he refused to do this, and
we fought it out at the end of the
cricket ground behind the trees. I got
a black eye, and also fifty lines for
fighting. Mollie did her best to con¬
sole me by giving me some of her best
cheesecakes. If I could always be
sure of such' cheesecakes I wouldn’t
mind impositions every day—I
wouldn’t mind losing Mollie herself.
Automobiles in Paris.
On Easter Sunday, this year, the
first installment of automobile cabs
was placed at the disposal of the Pa¬
risian public. As .soon as they issued
from the depot at Aubervilliers they
were most eagerly sought after, and
gave most satisfactory results, The
number of these vehicles is daily in¬
creased, and the Compagnie Generale
des Voitures expects, after a month’s
trial, to be in a position to judge of
the convenience or drawbacks of the
present type of cabs. These vehicles
are provided with accumulators en¬
abling them to travel from 60 to S90
kilometers (37 to 49 miles), without
recharging the batteries.
The tariff varies according to the
number of persons. For one or two
passengers the ordinary cab fare is
applied, viz.: 1.50 or 2 francs per hour;
for three persons, 2 francs the jour¬
ney, and four persons, 2.50 francs.
The eventual adoption of automo¬
biles for general use in Paris, as well
as throughout France, seems to be a
foregone conclusion; but there is no
doubt that the tremendous speed at
which private individuals with their
motor tricycles and other experimental
automobiles dash about the streets
has a tendency to discourage the adop¬
tion of automobiles by those who
would otherwise make purchases. By
daily observation in Paris, it is easy
to see that improvements are con¬
stantly being made in doing away with
the objectionable odors, excessive vi¬
bration and noise.
Tile Price of Peril.
Clerk (to applicant at the Leviathan
Assurance Company)—You wish to be
assured against accidents, sir? May 1
ask your profession? Applicant—I
am a foot-ball referee. Clerk (polite¬
ly)—First door to the right for the
death department.—London Punch.
Thought of It Seriously.
Mrs Motherly—Why is it, George,
that you never thought seriously of
getting married? George—You mis¬
understood me, Mrs. Motherly. I have
always thought of it so seriously that
I am still a bachelor.—Somerville
Journal.
Nothing—Something the rich man
wants, the poor man has, the miser
spends and the spendthrift saves.
A PROFESSIONAL "FLOOOER(, m
Englishman Says He Never Punished the
Name Man Twice.
The writer was the other day intro¬
duced to a stalwart warden of one of
our great convict establishments, a by
no means unkindly looking man, who
for many years has been the official
wielder of the eat-o’-nine-tails at the
prison where he serves, says Answers.
“I scarcely know how the new prison
bill will affect me, but 1 have in the
past flogged some scores of men with
the cat, receiving an extra sum on my
pay of five shillings for each one op¬
erated upon. I never flogged one yet
that didn’t deserve a good deal more
than he got; hut, of course, this is my
point of view. Of perhaps sixty men
to whom I have applied the cat—men
ranging in weight from eight to fifteen
stone—I have never known but one
who bore the punishment withou
yells, or, at least, groans. A great deal
depends upon the man who wields the
cat as to the extent of the pain, and
much also depends upon whether the
cat is an old one, with toughened
thongs, or not. The undersized, dis¬
sipated city street-corner thief suffers
the most, strong fellows who have done
outside work for years not being af¬
fected in anything like the same de¬
gree. As for the behavior of the
flogged, some of them use awful Im¬
precations, swearing, with awful oaths,
how they will revenge themselves;
more still yell unintelligibly, like
whipped children. The doctor present
largely regulates my own efforts. I
have never had to flog the same man
twice; I do not think any warden in
England ever had to do so.”
BARON ROTHSCHILD’S RED EAR
Sergeant Absolutely Refused to Tone Its
Color Down.
“A portrait painter can’t afford to be
entirely independent unless he has a
tremendous vogue,” remarked an artist
to a New Orleans Times-Democrat re¬
porter. “I remember when I first went
to Paris. Sergeant, who is probably
the greatest master in his special field
that America has ever produced, was
just beginning to attract attention. He
had painted a portrait of his preceptor,
Durow, and the stir it created led to
his getting a commission from Baron
Rothschild. It was his fiFst big job,
but he went about it with exactly the
same nonchalance that characterizes
him at present. During the last sit¬
ting. when the picture was receiving its
finishing touches, it chanced that one
of the baron’s ears became unusually
red, a circumstance probably due to the
heat of the room. Sergeant seized on
it at once as a good bit of color and
made the painted ear redder, if any¬
thing, than the original. When Roths¬
child inspected the portrait he was
greatly pleased. ‘But, of course,’ he
said, ‘you will tone down that left ear?’
‘Oh, no,’ replied the painter promptly.
‘I think I shall leave it just as It is. I
rather like that red.’ The hanker was
astonished and very angry, and, while
he paid for the canvas, he never hung
it. Of course the incident raised a
laugh, and the artist’s obstinacy was
admired in Bohemia, but it really did
Sergeant a great deal of harm and was
one of the things that eventually de¬
termined him to move to London.”
AN INTERESTING GORDON RELIC
Decorations He Designed to Keep Up
His Followers’ Courage.
An interesting relic of Gen. Gordon
and the fail of Khartoum is to be sold
in a well known auction room in the
\yest end, says the London Times.
This is one of the pewter decorations
which Gordon designed and struck in
order to keep up the spirits and cour¬
age of his followers during the siege
of that town. The decoration in ques¬
tion, which is similar in design to the
Turkish Order of the Medjidieh, was
struck in the arsenal at a time when
the garrison was practically in ex¬
tremis through disease and famine.
The medal, of which a specimen may
be seen in the collection of Gordon
relics in the museum of the Royal
United Service Institution in White¬
hall, was struck in three different met¬
als and bore in Arabic the words:
“Siege of Khartoum.” The gold order
was awarded to the higher and the
silver to the subordinate grade of offi¬
cers, while the pewter went to the rank
anti file, to the townspeople and even
to the women of the beleaguered town.
A Woman Did It.
When Gen. Miles was in.brviewed by
the correspondent of the Kansas City
Star when he made the charges against
the secretary of war, it was at once
suspected that the shrewd old head
of John Sherman was guiding Miles.
This suspicion was so strong that some
one asked Sherman if he had said any¬
thing to Miles about the controversy.
It will be remembered tu_c at this time
Miles was in Porto Rico and Sherman
in Washington. Sherman replied to
the question practically as follows: “I
have had no letter from Gen. Miles
since he left Washington, and have
sent no letters to him. I have not dis¬
cussed the war department with him.”
After a pause, the shrewd old codger,
with a twinkle in his eye, added: “I
believe, however, that Mrs. Miles and
Mrs. Sherman have exchanged several
letters.” He gave a little chuckle, and
said that he had nothing more to say
about the matter. Mrs. Miles is a
piece of Sherman’s.—Detroit Journal.
Counted Him.
“I am taking a religious census for
our church,” said the young woman at
the door. "I don’t expect to live here
any longer than this week,” said the
man who had answered the bell. “Oh,
well, that makes no difference. I’ll
take your name, anyhow. The one
who brings in the biggest list gets a
prize.”—Indianapolis Journal.
TEMPTING PIAZZAS.
MOST ATTRACTIVE FEATURES
OF MANY COTTAGES.
Detail* of the Porch Constructions of
Mansions In Newport and Other Simi¬
lar Resorts—The Rich People of the
Bast Rusk In Luxury. a
A summer cottage without a piazza
is unusual. It may almost be said that
the piazza is the chief thing and that
the cottage proper is a necessary ap¬
pendage, a place of refuge when n-ight
comes on or when the weather Is bad.
For the palaces of the wealthy at New¬
port and similar resorts great care Is
devoted to the matter of piazzas, and
the results, while not always pleasing,
are invariably elaborate. The proper
design and arrangement of a summer
cottage piazza mean comfort and good
taste. The piazza should, of course,
add to the general architectural beauty
of the building, but must be so con¬
structed as to admit sufficient light
and air to the lower floor of the build-
ing.
One of the most tasteful villas at
Newport was owned formerly by Rob¬
ert Goelet. It is built on the cliffs,
overlooking the bay, and is generous¬
ly provided with piazzas of three dif¬
ferent kinds. One of these is formed
by a shed supported by pillars, the
whole covered with vines. Another is
the ordinary open piazza, shaded by
awnings, and the third is inclosed like
a conservatory.
The veranda of Mrs. W. Storrs
Wells’ Newport villa is during the
summer shaded artificially by a gor-
geous awning with fringe trimming,
and naturally by tail palms and ma¬
jolicas. An Indian rug covers the
floor. Scattered about are cushions
and low chairs, a table to hold tea
things when 5 o’clock comes around,
books, bonbons and fancy work. The
most elaborate piece of work of its
kind at Newport, or probably in the
East, is the Satyr porch of the Coun¬
try Club, overlooking the golf links.
The piazza of Rosecliff, the Newport
home of Mrs. Hermann Oelrichs, is al¬
most as large as the house to which it
is attached. It is one of the most at¬
tractive in Newport, and it was here
that Willie Vanderbilt wooed and won
Miss Fair, chaperoned by Polly, the
Oelrichs’ parrot. Like all Newport
piazzas, this one has its share of cost¬
ly rugs and easy chairs, cushioned
with pillows, and more than tae^usual
number of small tables, bearing vases
filled with flowers. During the season
tea is served every afternoon on this
piazza.
Mrs. Elisha Dyer’s piazza is known
by its oval opening, a latticed win¬
dow, like the frame of a picture, An-
closing a pretty landscape. A ham¬
mock is swung across one end and ta¬
bles, chairs and plants abound. Rough
Point, Mrs. F. W. Vanderbilt’s New¬
port residence, has a spacious balcony,
furnished expensively with rugs, cush¬
ions and willowware, relieved by
palms, flowering plants, and shaded by
a fine awning.
One of the quaintest and most inter¬
esting, if not the most lavish, sum¬
mer homes at Newport is Boothden, so
named from its former owner, Edwin
Booth. It has an uncovered piazza on
the right of the entrance. On the left
there is a little nook at the side door
where the famous actor often sat. This
is arranged today just as it was .dur¬
ing his life.
Narragansett Pier boasts of many
magnificent cottages, most of which oc¬
cupy commanding positions upon the
Lop of the bluff. The absence of trees
and foliage gives them an air of se¬
verity and coldness not to he found at
Newport, which abounds in verdure.
One of these mansions, owned by
Francis W. Kinney, Is of a square,
masive type, and has a sunken piazza,
or veranda, surrounding the first floor.
Tame Butterfly for Pets.
Women have had all kinds of pets
from time immemorial, but perhaps
the strangest of all fancies in this di¬
rection is the latest news which comes
to us from Paris that two ladies have
succeeded in taming dozens of butter¬
flies. These little insects eat from
their mistress' hands, alight on them
and show no fear of any kind. They
are certainly pretty pets, and well be¬
come the airy, fluttering sweetness of
the typical woman’s nature. The
summer 'girl during the dull days of
the week, from Monday morning until
Saturday noon, may in this new fad
find a means of diversion, taming her
butterflies in preparation to a series
of fetching poses with which to cap¬
tivate susceptible man upon his ar¬
rival at the summer hotel for Sunday.
An Indian Gift.
Queen Victoria was recently pre¬
sented with |100 by an Indian chief,
named Shakes, of British Columbia.
Chief Shakes belongs to the Kltimaat
tribe, and owns a fishing privilege be¬
low the falls of a stream near Lowe
Inlet. Lately he sold 60,000 fish, for
which he received $5,000, and conceiv¬
ed the idea of sending a gift to his
queen. The money was forwarded
through the Indian agent, who in re¬
turn received from Queen Victoria a
letter for the chief, thanking him and
asking him to accept a steel engraving
of herself, handsomely framed, and
two pleats of sheep’s wool.—Keystone.
An English Peculiarity.
“Isn’t San Tomas an English town?”
asked Van Braam. “Of course not,”
replied Dinwiddle. “It’s a Philippine
town. What made you ask if it were
English?" "I noticed that the ‘h’ had
been dropped.”—Pittsburg Chronicle-
Telegraph.
Order may be heaven’s first law, but
It is earth's last realization.
—
WIDOW’S MITE.
Curious Custom Observed In an Old
London Churchyard.
There is still observed in an out-of-
the-way London churchyard one of
those ancient customs, the observance
of which gave so much delight to
Charles Dickens, and whose descrip¬
tion of which has done so much to
endear to all who read the right little,
tight little island. Twenty-one ladies,
either past the ago of self-support or
unable by reason of disease to make a
living for themselves, have gathered
for centuries in this same churchyard,
on the same day, to receive the same
gifts from the beneficence of the same
lady, now, of course, long since dead.
Priory Church of St. Bartholomew the
Great is well worth a visit from the
tourist in search of that which is an¬
cient. Hidden away behind the great
postoffice building of St. Martin’s-le-
Grand, next door to the old hospital
that bears its patron’s name, and
within a few yards of the quaint couri-
yard where the bluecoat boys, hatless
and in yellow stockings, play their
games. Founded in 1123, it still re¬
tains its heavy Norman pillars and
rounded arches, which have been care¬
fully restored where the stone has
crumbled through centuries of decay.
Its narrow churchyard is bordered on
two sides by bouses which have exag¬
gerated their architectural tendency to
overhang. The gravestones are so old
that most of the inscriptions are worn
off, and they are only to be reached by
climbing a sort of portable stage coach
ladder from the pathway. Here gather
on the appointed morning the twenty-
one old ladles, for, as a rule, they are
old, and very old. The distribution of
sixpences, hotcross buns, shawls and
two-shilling pieces takes place in ac¬
cordance with legendary custom after
morning service. It is not quite cer¬
tain to a few centuries when the thing
whs first started, but it has been go¬
ing on now for several hundred years.
The onlookers, as a rule, are a few
fresh-complexioned nurses in pretty
bonnets and cloaks, and half a dozen
residents of Little Britain. After Rev.
Sir Borradaile Savory, the present rec¬
tor of “St. Bart,” has conducted morn¬
ing prayers, the twenty-one aged
dames mount the stage coach ladder
and make their way to the particular
gravestone on which the twenty-one
new sixpences lie, and each old lady,
having picked up her sixpence, Is then
presented with the florin, the bun and
the crochet shawl.
WHERE KIPLING GETS HINTS.
Thorough Way In Which He Explored a
Locomotive Shop.
“Kipling’s methods of absorbing de¬
tail are very curious and interesting,”
said Mr. Lyman D. Bentley to a New
Orleans Times-Democrat man. “Some
years ago, while he was visiting the
locomotive shops at New Haven, he
met a skilled workman named Cressy
and immediately proceeded to pump
him about engine building. Cressy did
not fully appreciate the honor that was
paid him, but he was flattered by the
novelist’s interest, and the two went
all over a big eight-wheel express flier
that was standing in the yard. Kip¬
ling said, he had lots of books on the
subject, but they didn’t tell him the
things he wished to know. What he
wanted was a real engineer or build¬
er’s idea of the machine, and he was
particularly eager to learn the col¬
loquial names of the parts. He took
no notes, but about a month later he
was in New Haven again and hunted
up the meohanfe. ‘Look here, Cres¬
sy,* he said, producing a rough sketch
on a card of one of the valves of the
brake gear, ‘I wish you’d tell me again
just how this thing works.’ Cressy
explained, and Kipling laughed de¬
lightedly. ‘I’ve got it now!’ he ex¬
claimed. I mention the incident be¬
cause it seems to throw some light on
his astonishing command of technicali¬
ties.”
The Sundew.
The sundew is one of the most cu¬
rious plants In nature’s great collec¬
tion of queer things. If an unlucky
fly lighCfe on one of its leaves that leaf
closes right up, wrapping tightly
around Mr. Fly and staying closed for
days until he is all eaten up. A bit
of meat or some of the white of an
egg dropped on the leaves will make
them do the same thing. But the
queerest thing of all is that these
leaves will pay no attention to a peb¬
ble or a chip of wood that may be
dropped on them, and will not close
up at all. If a moment later a little
worm should drop on one of these
same leaves it would curl shut at once.
Now, how does this plant know what
is good to eat and what is not?
Looking Ahead.
"And so you’ve decided to name
your baby James, have you?” “Yes;
but, of course, we shall call him Jim
right from the start.” “Why have you
such a decided preference for that
name?" “Well, you see, I want to give
him a fair show. Jim, you know,
rhymes with him, vim, trim, -grim,
prim, rim, shim, whim, dim, limb,
swim,and probably a lot of other words
thai I can’t think of just now; so if
he ever does anything worth mention¬
ing the poets will not be l?keiy to over¬
look it.”—Chicago Times-Herald.
Use for Volcano Dust.
Volcano dust carried by the wind
from the Puy mountains in Auvergne
enriches the soil of Limagne with
phosphoric acid and potash. Accord¬
ing to Mr. Nlvois, inspector general of
mines In France, it is owing to this
natural fertilizer that the soil is so
rich. A field at Gerzat, Clarmont-
Ferrand, has yielded a fine crop of
hemp eighteen years running without
any other manure
WESTERN MEN
Make the Beat Sailors In the Best Navjr
—The American.
The brilliant record men in the navy
In the recent war has set the authori¬
ties to thinking, with the result that
a brisk effort is to be made to turn
some hundreds of the western farmers
into sailors for Uncle Sam. The Hart¬
ford, the famous old man-of-war now
serving as a recruiting ship, is now
at Mare, Cal., and as soon as possible
will be fitted up for a long cruise. Re¬
cruiting officers are to be sent out all
through the western states, setting
forth in terms as alluring as may be
the unparalleled felicity of three
years on the briny deep with Dewey
as your lord, with the chances that
more of the sturdy young sons of the
plains will come forward than can at
present be accommodated. Captain
Henry Hawley, who has been assigned
to the Hartford, speaks enthusiastical¬
ly of the abilities of the boys he is
to get. “We intend to make the cruise
of the Hartford as attractive as pos¬
sible, and we will do everything to
fnake the service of the landsmen
pleasing. We will have a good band
of music on board; will stop at the
most interesting ports en route, and
In other ways do what we can to in¬
duce the western boys to adopt the
service as their profession. We tried
this scheme once before, and with very
gratifying results. I have been in¬
formed by commanders who have had
recruits on board from Kansas, Ne¬
braska, Missouri, Illinois and other
western states that they made the most
temperate and intelligent lot of sail¬
ors ever shipped by them. They are
well-behaved, quiet and orderly, and
what they lack in seafaring knowledge
they make up in zeal and industry.
When we only had to supply 12,000
men for our ships we found it difficult
to get good sailors, but now that the
force has been increased to 17,500 our
troubles have grown in proportion. I
have a hankering for western men,
and hope to corral a lot of them be¬
fore I am through.”
EMERSON'S WICKEDNESS.
Julia Ward Howe Warned Him About
the Devil.
In her benighted New York girl¬
hood Julia Ward Howe was taught to
regard Ralph Waldo Emerson as a
wisked man and she would have de¬
clined his acquaintance if he had not
been introduced to her in a way which
made that impossible, says the Boston
Transcript. But having once been in¬
troduced, in the course of a trip be¬
tween Boston and New York some fif¬
ty-nine years ago, and then having had
her hard judgment of this wicked man
softened a little by seeing him carry¬
ing a poor child on his shoulders, she
consented to make him the object of a
little missionary work. So she said to
him earnestly: “You seem to forget,
Mr. Emerson, that the devil is going
around all the time, seeking whom he
may devour!” “Oh, no, Miss Ward,”
he said, “I don’t think I forget it, but
don’t you think the angel ought to be
stronger than the demon?” This ques¬
tion seems to have been in the nature
of a "sticker” to the young lady from
New York and she discontinued her
missionary work for that trip.
Sho Asked Him to “Co Away.”
She was a dear old lady, and she
was spending the summer in a quaint
old seaport town of New England, says
the New York Times. One morning
every one had gone out, leaving her
alone in the house. It was not long
after that she heard a noise in an ad¬
joining room, and, going to investigate,
she saw a man ransacking a bureau
drawer. What most women would have
done, if they had not been frightened
into immovability or into giving a
scream at the awful realization that
there was a burglar in the house,would
have been to hurry away anu hide un¬
til the dreadful man was gone. But
that was not what this woman did.
She stepped immediately up to him and
said: “I am all alone in this house
and I want you to go right away.” The
strangest part of the story seems to
be that the man did go. He had al¬
ready taken some things, and those
he kept, but he did not wait to look
for others. It was not conscience that
drove him away, as lie kept what he
had, and it could hardly have been
fear. It Is a standing conundrum in
that family why that burglar went
away, and no good reason seems to
be found unless it was politeness, and
he did not like to refuse a lady’s re¬
quest.
Tattooing and Snake Bite.
While scientific minds are discus¬
ing the anti-toxin serum treatment of
disease as if it were a new thing, the-
people of ancient Burmah are calling
attention to the fact that for centuries
the material they have used in the
common custom of tattooing has been
an efficient anti-toxin for snake bites.
The tattooed Burmese regard the bites
of poisonous snakes as harmlesss.
This, at least, is the statement of a
gentleman from Burmah, who brings
testimony to bear in corroboration of
his singular statement.
As Represented.
Hardacre—Zeke answered an adver¬
tisement whar they said they’d send
him a church organ for a dollar.
Crawfoot—What did he get? Hard¬
acre—A sample copy of the New Light
marked: "This is the best church or¬
gan published.”
What He Was Looking For.
Lady—So you are looking for a
square meal, eh? Tramp—No’m; I’m
looking for a round one. Lady—I
never heard of such a thing. Pray
what is a roamd meal? Tramp—One
dat hasn’t any end to it, mum.