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16 FRENCH CAPITAL CAPTURED BY AMERICAN GUESTS. Our Women Are Distinguished Above All Others by Their Natural Wtf>s. Our Men Spotted Kveryvliore by Their Trousers und Shoes—l nrle Sam's \ I most ns V.ncli in Bvidenee In the French Capital as the Tri color Itself—l ankee Dollars .Himlint; Pleasantly Throughout the exposition i it> —I'arisinns Are I,earning That Some of 1 s Have Artistic Tastes nil and Tlint We Don’t Put Ip Witli Petty lied Tape—We Turn Down the Scrubby On ides, hut Pay the Prlee to the Colnnan—Mnny of Our Workingmen at the Show. Pari>. June A -The French capital is fuarming with Americans just now. At the exposition, on the boulevards, at nil the show places of the city, in the cafes the restaurants and theaters, the Yankees ere making 1 themselves every day m -re evident. In the midst of the cosmopolitan crowd which the exposition has brought to Paris our country folk are easily rec ognisable even by their exterior appear ance. The women stand out in any crowd by reason of their fine figures, ieg.ilar features, easy air and stately walk. "What a magnificent woman! A Strang -r? Hmm. Must be an America in\” you will hear an old Parisian say as he sip® his absinthe on the boulevards Itefore dinner, watching the passing of the eternal pro cession. And. in very truth, the ceine has brought a welcome touch of fre>h, quietly Independent naturalness on I Individuality into a city where the most beautiful women are often soiled by made-up affectedness and coquettish airs. But in their own way the American men are quite s distinguishable here this year. They ore picked out in a moment from the immense concourae of visiting strangers ly their deter mined, clean shaven faces, their “ .et there,” walk, by the broail white hats with which most of them have elected to punctuate Paris by their double-breasted jacket-coats and by the thin-legged trous ers that most of them wear. Those trous ers, fitting close to the leg and throwing the shoe into strong relief, rather startle the Parisians,* who think hi once of sta bles—or prairies. They Take In All for Horsemen. “Your countrymen ride a great deal evi dently; I suppose that Is because, with all your vast/railroad systems, you haven’t had time yet to make suburban connec tions and that sort of tiling.” remarked a Frenchman to un American encountered in a cafe the other day. It was a long time l>efore the Parisian cbuld understand that there was no neces sary connection between the thin-legged trousers and horse riding, and that New York, Chicago ami San Francisco were not merely vast collections of shops, rising unexpectedly out of wild prairie lands, dotted here and there with millionaires’ palates. The notion of the commuter was iiew to him; he thought that redskins danced hideous war dances every night round the carefully guarded fortresses where the oil kings hoarded their earn ings. French Ignorance of America, despite ad the -writers who have beef& at woi'!- discovering us in past years, remains ex traordinarily dense. This year, however, the American citizen is leaving such a mark on the capital hat, probably before the exposition has pulled In its last Ameri can dollar, the people will have ceased to accept the works of Fenlmore Cooper, much lead in translation, as accurate transcripts of our daily life. One cless of Parisians lias already found reason to revise- its opinion of our trav eling folk. Formerly the tourist Ameri can was the pet customer of the scrubby guides—those plagues of Paris who talk n little of every language under the ten and pesrer the innocent stranger to 1 ath with their entreaties to I*;* allowed to tfhow him round the great city In tl\e minut< s, live hours or live days, according to the length of milor’s stay. The Ameri can was generally in a hurry, and he always had lots of money. He guides at generous American rates, and put big comm!.- ions into their pockets by buying nil sorts of souvenirs u stores which they indicated. But this time the Ameilcvns have not merely come for a few days' stay during a hasty scramble through Europe. They are going to o ay a month, two mouths, the whole exposi tion season. And the national love of do ing things oneself comes uppermost. The Amt i lean bi ut hen tuidt stray and blunders leisurely round the city and its phows. with his I’. iedeiker and Ids Con versational Manual for his only assistants. So the guide:*, when they s. e the white hat* Divl IlKlii titling irons, is, make II lie effort in do hu-ross. 'l'hi y probably I 111 11k, In common with n i.irgn pari of Ihe French nation, that tin* Americans ore all ruined liy tin war with Bp.r.n, end tire doing 'their own guiding ftom motives ot economy. Our (frowliiK Intercat in Art. In the picture galleries and museums our country folk art' gaining n reputation for an interest in tire. which non unsus peeted hi tlierti of old. In former y. ns they hod n way of horrifying staid fre nuenters of tlie l.tuvio and the l.uxem tiourg. by rushing In at breakneck speed, eeofnpaiilc<i by their guides, tearing through the rooms with one eye on each line of pictures, stopping only for a few moment* opposite some lour or flva of the [ most famous works. But this year Amer -1 ioanw are taking their time. The gal i lerles are full of them all day long, and . they spend hours making careful studtaa | of the art treasure® collected in the% ! priceless repositories It used to be thought by the guardians of the art pal aces that the Americans came only to choose pictures to be reprodutjed for advertisements of canned beef or dry goods. Now it is seen that they reajiy care for and understand art. Sometimes their minute questions disturb the peace of the men in charge, who generally show an incompetence*, and lack of intelligence ihat would prevent a man getting a street cleaner’s job in an American city. The influx of trans-Atlantic visitors has been so great that in several quarters of Paris one might imagine himself, a* pa rade time, to bo on Fifth avenue. The beautiful and aristocratic quarter of the Parc Monccau lias becomo almost like an American city. From the beginning it was built on the Afnerican plan, with magnificent mansions like those tha* have arisen of late years along Riverside Drive, in New York. Everything is American electric bells, electric lights, rapid eleva tors. Even the hall porters are designed on the American system—and a smart, well-groomed American hall porter with all his faults, is a very agreeable substi tute for the unspeakably scrubby, be nighted and generally insolent 3’arislan concierge. Americans with well-lined in Vain the Conductor Explains. pockets were quick to discover the Parc Moneeau, and now you hear all over the neighborhood a great deal more of “Amer ican” than of any other language. The trades-people are rejoicing. Never did they let out more horses and carriages and automobiles, and never did they ca ter for more splendid banquets. Half of them will be setting up automobiles for their own pleasure next year as the di rect result of this year’s lavish outpour ing of American money. At the cafes and “Anglisch and Ameri ca.in bars,” which have sprung up over the city, and where you see painted as surances that “they spocken Anglisch,” shrewd Hermans und Italians are draw ing double the usual waiters’ salaries, be cause they know how to say “Yes! Good morning, mlk>r. Yes! You have coak tahee?” It is hardly necessary to say that “coak-tahee” means cocktail. De spite the many warnings our countrymen have had against “American liars,” these institutions are prospering enormously. Willing .anil Able to I’nj the Price. Parisian cabbies welcome Americans with a special smile. For Americans are probably the only people on the earth who find nothing extraordinary in the high fares the Jehus are extorting this exposi tion season. Parisians have almost given up taking cabs, since they would certain ly have to light if they offered the ordi nary fare of :0 cents for u “course.” or 4) cents per hour. Americans, used to other standards, accept the cabbies' most imaginative terms as quite natural, consid ering them cheap rather than otherwise. Possibly, though, there might be trouble, if a spirited American were to catch the parting wink which the Jehu frequently throws in his customer’s direction after pocketing the fair. Inside the great show the American per vades everything. You find him in every side show, spending his money freely, hut expressing Ids opinion freely, too, when, as sometimes happens, he thinks lie hasn’t got his money’s worth. He is the terror of the petty officialism which com mands so much respect in France, ills independent spirit has led to a good many laughable scenes in the exposition grounds, the men clothed in a little brief authority holding out for* the observance of petty rules invented, apparently, out of a sheer spirit of contradictoriness, the American in the wildest French imaginable trying to get a substantial reason for the regula tion. The French people themselves never dream of disputing the liat of a policemen or even of a responsible looking man with a hood; but their laughing applause frequently encouraged rebellious trangers in their efforts to storm a forbidden gate or take a tempting, barred off short cut. It is the same epirlt. by the way, displayed much more freely in Paris than in Amer. ion, that mikes it Impossible to make ti e average truns-Atlantic visitor under Idond that he is not at liberty to lioar.l ! i street ear Just whenever he feels like it. He does not see the sense of stand- | ing at the corner of the block with his "number” hi Ids hand ami waiting some times half an hour for his turn. He Just Jumps on when the ear cornea up. In vain the agitated conductor explains that he must wait his turn or that all the seots ate occupied. All right, he’d Just as soon stand. The conductors, horribly shocked tty to make the cool Intruder understand that It was never known ftom the be ginning of the world that a ear built r.,r forty people, should be made to hold forty, one Generally, the American stands Ills ground; sometime* he Is put oft by force. In cither case the natives have a very good time and tell each other that "cos THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JUNE 17. 1900. Yank-ees" are the most extraordinary people on the face of the earth. We Keep Our A inbiinxiidor Bny. It seems likely that before the closing , of the exposition the United States em bassy will have to do a good deal of Inter ! vetting on behalf of American ci'izens who have got themselves into trouble I through their inability to master the in tricacies of French custom. A Ire id y the embassy is kept very busy attending o the large daily crowds of callers. Some of these come out of mere curiosity to so® how the nation is housed In France. Oth ers are in quest of all .sorts of informa tion. sometimes of a kind which, to he carefully concealed disgust of the polite officials, could just as easily obtained from a hotel clerk or a directory. Others come in all good faith and patriotism to pay their respects to the Stars and Strip s on little bit of United States territory. As a matter of fact, it is wortli while n:ting. a good citizen of the United State? has not far io go to find an opportunity • f taking off his hat to the flag. Paris is all aflutter with bunting in honor of ihe ex position, and of all the flags of foreign nations absolutely none is more in evi dence than the Stars and Stripes. if ft were not for the Anglo-Boer war the Union Jack would probably run the Star Spangled Banner pretty cloee; bfit as things are we knock the Britishers out all the time. Many of the main thorough fares give a genuine Fourth of July ef fect. This is not only where there hap pen to be established som3 of the bg American insurance companies or machin ery firms which are making auch head way in the French capital. The American flags are hung out by all the big French firms, too; a delicate recognition of the fact that the good American dollar Is a substantial item in the prosperity of iho city. One curious remark has been made by observers of the exposition crowds. It is that Americans seem to have so far brought w-ith them fewer children than any other people. The English drag wag onloads of boys rind girls about with them wherever they go, und little dark-eyed Batin foreigners are very conspicuous everywhere, but It is rare to see small Americans in the wake of their elders. Jocose French people explain*the curious fnot by the supposition that there arc not any children in the United States; that Americans, who do everything else so much more quickly than the other na tions, gel through their growing up also at the same unheard-of rale. Perhaps the true explanation would be worth looking for. Our Workingmen In Evidence. It must not be thought that it is only rich Americans who are here for the ex position. Of course, a considerable num ber of American workingmen have been in the city for some time—many of them for more than a year—engaged in various ways about the exposition buildings, put ting up machinery for their employers or working like hosts of other foreigners at whatever kind of work they could get. A colored man, who left New York eight een months ago in a spirit of adventure, determined to see the exposition or die in the attempt, got work at once ns a kind of general handy man at a good sal ary He has learned to speak French quite fluently, and will get himself nat uralized as a French subject as soon ns the law f>ertnis. He says that a colored man in New’ York it “Just a black nig ger.” while here, on account of the French African colonies, the people treat lilni with great respect, and, if he likes, he car make them believe that tie Is the son of a dispossessed native chief. Blit, besides those who have been en gaged on the great show, there are American workingmen here who have Just come over to enjoy themselves un til they have spent all their money. And, despite all that Is said about the rise in prices, they do not tint it too hard to "make out." A group of four workingmen from iJenver arrived a week ago, and the other day they were tell ing at one of the United States sub stations In the exposition how they managed. They had been saving for more than a year to spend a month In Fails. When they arrived they found It Impossible to get hot-l accommodation within their means up to the home stan dard. But they were sharp enough to re flect that probably unfurnished apart ments had not gone cp so much In price They found, Just twenty minutes' walk from the exposition gates, a "log. ment" of three large, airy rooms, wl h a kitchen. In the sixth story of a stylish house. Ac cording to the Paris fashion, they were obliged to take It for a minimum of three months. The prlee was 150 francs, or $.lO. They bought the strict necessaries of furniture for $-’5. Total result, they are well enough lodgrd-as well as hundreds of students-for three mcn'lhs at Ihe rod of ss.'i in all. or about sl3 per matt Not bad for strangers in Paris in exposition tlmas-evin though they are only stay ing a month, Things have gone up In consequence of Ihe exposition, of course, but even now, with a little gumption, a man can live more cheaply In Paris than on the same scale In the average American city. There Is not a single restaurant In Pa’ls where a man Is obliged to spend for hi dinner anything like the sunt he must rccessarly disburse at Sherry’s or the Waldorf-Astoria. The prices that horrify l’.uropeans seem reasonable enough to the average American. Stephen Mac Kenna. HUS CUUBBUCK'S iEIGRRT. By SI SAN BROWN BOBBINS. A man often has to try several different kinds of he finds his true vo cation. Such was the case with Alpheus Chubbuck. First he tried farming, then he bought a small grocery store, and after the fail ure of this business enterprise he failed in various other attempts to earn a liv ing. Finally he tried matrimony and settled down with a comfortable feeling that now at last he had found just the right place for himself. His wife was comfortably well to do. fihe was a shrewd business manager and she kept a Arm hold on her purse strings. Alpheus was well fed and neatly dressed, and his wife allowed dhirn >4 a month for spending money. At first he used to spend every cent of his money within ten days of the first month, but as he found that Mrs. Alpheua could not be induced to lend or give him any more, he 6<>on learned to make the money hold out so that even on the last day of the month he would have a little change which he could jingle in his pocket, lie grew stout and prosperous looking. His wife took great pride in her little village home and its trim yard. iShe cared for the flower garden, but it was the duty of Alpheus to hoe the vegetables and mow the lawn. He did this under protest. He had to They Spot Americans Every Time In Paris. bo asked many times and perhaps be threatened with a reduced allowance be fore the work would be satisfactorily done. In a year from the time of his marriage he had the distinction of being known as the laziest man in town. it is said that Satan finds tiome mischief still for idle hands 10 do. Whoever fur nished it, mischeif was certainly done by Alpheus Chubbuck. Not by his hands, to be exact, but by his lively imagination and his active tongue. There was a fair prospect that to his other reputation would be added that of being the greatest gossip in town. By gentle ridicule, sly insinuation and the repeating of things i>eople said, he soon had the whole town unsettled. Old family feuds were revived, new ones start ed, while half the people would not speak to the other half. One day, it was the first of April, Mrs. Alpheus heard a strange sound in the yard. Bho went to the window and fbw a clattering, rickety* dingy hen-cart drawn by a raw-boned sorrel horse. On the sent of the cart sat her husband and an other man, a shabby, slouching, dispu table looking man. Both jumped to the ground when the cart came to a stop In the tniddJe of the side yard, and with ap parent haste unharnessed the horse. Then Alpheus took out his pooketbook and gave the man some money. The man swung himself on the horse’s back and with hia legs dangling against her sides ambled out of the yard and down the street. “Well of all things! said Mrs. Alpheus and she went out o make inquires. “I tn going into the hen business” said Alpheus. “And just think. Loizy, I bought that cart for three dollars!” k “And got cheated, too,” she said sharp ly. “But then it’s your own money,” she added. “Yes, and I’ve got a dollar left to fix It up with.” "A dollar!” she said contemptuously. "How far will that go? It won’t set the tires, to say nothing of painting it and tixing the broken doors.” "Oh. well." said Alpheus easily, "I shall have some more money next month and I'll do all I can on it myself.” For more than two montha Alpheus was missed from his old haunts and the rela tions of the villages became less strained. One pair of lovers after another became reconciled, and a number of the family feuds were ns If they had never been. All this time Alpheus was at work on his hen-cart, and people began to drop In to look at il. “Ive got It Just about In condition to paint,” he would say proudly, "It’s taken me a good while to get It ready, but I believe that if anything Is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well, and my wife will tell you that it was a pretty hard looking old trap when I got it. You see, It’s fixed up pretty nice now. Of course, it won't show how much I've done to it till after It is painted. I had the tires ret, and that broken shaft mended, and two new spokes and a part of a rim in that hind wheel. I’ve scraped and sand papered It anti put new snaps on all the doors—why they were fastened with clothespins when I got it and I've fixed a little railing around tlie top, so I can carry things there if I want to, and I've got hinges on the seat and you see there is a l>ox under It where I can carry my dinner, and I've put up that frame for an awning so I won't get sunstruok." "When are you going to start Into busi ness?" "Oh. I don't know; time enough for that when I get my cart finished.” In due time the curt Was painted. Hut now. Instead of going into the hen busl- , ness, Alpheus began again to loaf about the grocery store and to resume his old habits. When he went home at noon he would look proudly at his hen cart, and he always smoked his after-dinner pepe and read his evening paper in the shade of its striped awning. Arthur Wade was walking home from hia lady-love’s house one evening in July. He was one of the lovers who had been estranged by Alpheus the previous spring. To-night he was gloomy and morose. Al ice had shown a marked coldness that evening and he remembered how their former trouble began in just that way. “He's up to hia old tricks again,” Arthur muttered as he came opposite the Chuck buck cottage. He frowned darkly at it and at the hen-cart that showed plainly in the moonlight. He walked up to the next corner W’here he stopped suddenly. He turned about and retra'ided his steps and for a long time he stood looking at the pink and green hen-cart. “I’ll do it,” he said at length. "Yes. I’ll do It the very first cloudy night,” and with that he walked briskly away. It was aevorail mornings later that when Alpheus. us v as his habit, went to the dining room window' to look out *at his hen-cart, he gave a start of surprise and exclaimed, “What in thunder!” Then he snatched up his hat and ran out into the yard. There stood a rickety, dilapidated hen cart. Alpheus looked at it blankly, then his eye caught sight of an envelope- tack ed to the side. On It was written the one word “Boot.” With trembling fingers he tore it open and drew forth a five-dollur bill. When he went in to breakfast his eyes were sparkling. “It’s w'orse than the oth er one.” he said enthusiastically, “and the wheels are dished like pie plates. The color of tho other one. did not just suit me,” he said after a pause. “I think I’ll paint this one yellow and purple, and It won’t take me so long us it did before, cither.” Just before the last coat of purple paint was dry, Arthur Wade and Alice wore safely married. SUSAN BROWN ROBBINS. lie Strange inf tiief fl. weiniL Ills Remarkable Manner of Visiting the Pari* Exposition. By rmm.F.s battbll iaomb. (Copyright, 1900, by C. B. Loomis.) Alexander A. Alexander was his full name. What the middle A. stcod for no one knew, but many thought that ii be Alexander for they said that a parent who was foolish enough to double his son’s name would be as likely to treble if. Those who knew the boy well enough call ed him by his first name, but strangers generally called! him by his last name I M ' \\ until they got better acquainted. Alexan der looked like a Russian, and he had as imperious a nature as that of any czar that ever lived. Before he was twelve years old there was no one able to cross him. If he had been wicked or even ill tempered he could have made it unpleas ant for the world in which he lived— which was this world, by the way—but despite his power over people he seldom exercised it unduly, and so it was possible to live in his vicinity and enjoy life. Once in a while he exercised his power for the good of the public. Almost every body has heard of the strike of the pain ters of Paulton. Some of them were por trait painters and some were landscapists, and they were all in the employ of a very rich art patron. They ma le up their minds one day that he could alford to pay Ihcm more than they were getting, aid so they struck for higher wages, of eourio they had a right to strike, although i dare say that they receiving all they were worth, as many of them used sten cils ill painting portraits in order to save lime. But they had no right to alop other painters from working, as this has bee i a free country since lSli.',. And yet I'lqi Is what they did. They told ihe rew pain ters that they would upset their palls of paint and destroy their brushes if they attempted to paint any portraits or lard erapes in Paulton. And then It was that ’Alexander used his authority with good effect. He went to where the land of striking ixilnters had assembled. They stood around In their blouses with their long hair waving in tit” wind, and hi s.tid: "Bay. painters, if yon want to strike you'll have to do it in shi, .t ,town than Taulson. I always h v v wv , and you've got to go." And go they did. They walked off In a body down to the railroad motion and look train to New York. And non- they •r glad to work at any price. And th other painters were so grateful to Alex ander that they all united in doing a crayon portrait of him for him and ho didn’t have to pay for the frame—which Is very unusual. Alexander wanted to go to the Paris Exposition, hut he knew that his father could not afford to send him. If he had told Mr. Alexander to do it that man would have been impelled to do it by the bey's strange power, but Alexander knew that his father was a poor man, so he determined to get there by some other means*. And right there he made his first mistake, to call it nothing worse. He ought to have made up his mind to do without going to the exposition as so many boys will have to do. Bu* that would not have been like Alexander. What he wanted he must have. So one evening after his parents were asleep he stole into their bedroom and kiesed them both affectionately, and then he left the house and made his way to the station. He had packed a few clothes in a hand satchel and he had taken all his savings for three years, which amounted to sixty dollars. He took the midnight train for New York and dis patched from there an affectionate letter telling his parents that he was going to the fair and that he would bring them each a pretty present. By noon of next day he was sailing out of New York harbor on the Bucolic of the Red Crescent line. Long before they were out of sight of land he had made friends with several of the passengers, and he would need them, too, for the inexperienced boy had neglected to procure a stateroom, sup posing that a day would auffloe to take him to France. One of his new acquaint ances was the Bishop of—well. I can’t think now. but he was a splendid big man and fond of children, so that he and Alexander go£ along famously, although Alexander was a Congregationalism .“Well, where are you going all by your self?” paid he. "To visit an uncle in Southampton?’* “No, sir.” said Alexander. *T have no relatives in France.” “Not that Southampton Is in France,” said the Bishop, laughing. “Oh. isn’t it? Well, I'm going to the World’s Fair in Paris, and that’s in France.” The Bishop smiled. “Yes. Paris 1s in France, but you can’t go straight to it; you’ll have to stop at Southampton and take another steamer across the channel to Havre and then take train to Paris.” Alexander was vexed and he showed it. ‘‘Can’t I go all the way to Pnri* £y water?” "AH the way by water, but not in a steamer of this size. You should have taken a French liner if you wished to go direct to France.” Alexander was tempted to use his p*>w er, and I’m sorry to say that he yielded. It would have been so much better if h bod swallowed his* chagrin and gone to Southampton with a good bishop and then crossed the. channel. But. no, he had set out to sail to France, and he was going to do it no matter how much he put out the rest of the passengers. "How Do You Say It In French?” "I'm sorry, but this steamer has got to take me to France. Are you sure that she can't sail directly to Paris?” “Not unless you deepend the Seine.” "Oh, I don't want to do that,” said Alex ander, quite as if he could, and the Bishop was much amused. "But tell me, if you've made a mis take about the steamer, what are you go ing to do aboutva stateroom?” “A what?” asked Alexander, with a puz zled expression. "A stateroom. A place to live In and sleep while you're on your way to South ampton.” "I'm not going to Southampton,” said Alexander, with heut. “Why does it take over night to get to France?” "My dear boy, we ll be the best part of six days making the trip, and you won’t be allowed to sleep on the deck or in the saloon.” "I should hope I wouldn’t sleep in a "Go Tell th Captain I Want Him.” j saloon," said Alexander with and gnltv "Of course not," said the Hlshop with a straight face “Now, 1 have a whole stateroom anti you may use the upper berth, and welcome, If you wish." PP "Why, thank you, sir. I'll be glad to but I had no idea that It took so long lou sec. I had the nuasles when class had Ihe Atlantic ocean, ami I had the mumps whet, we had France, , nd R o 1 don t know much about that pan of fe'COKm uhy. * "Well, you'll know more htfore vou re : are,?" yoWr p "‘ ntH know whera you r ‘ th ? y do Ia note But * *0 Fnglund. The ship wUI hate to let me out at France.” V A steward happened to be nasslne •Here" said Alexander. In hUmost iceratic manner. “Bend the cantaln to The s.rwutd looked astonished, lmt |,e ob yeti. 11l a minute he came back "The crptai:. says if.s on; of the question \ou must KO to him.” I At this Alexander flushed scarlet He ° f h ! 8 han '’* out. captain, I want you to come here Triumph of Worth. *cepiion accorded to Pure Rye Whiskey ] Is Indisputable i n _ ' Murray .Hill Club ! Goods sold ai area 1 aonabie price—* pre-eminent whiskey i without a rival. It Is listed by all the ' leading Clubs, and served at the ( most exclusive functions. Sold by < first-class dealers everywhere. < JOS.A.MAGNUS&GO.i CINCINNATI. OHIO. \ at once. I want to speak to you.” Everybody within earshot gasped for breath, for the captain was one of the hottest tempered and one of the most dignified men on the Red Crscent line But they gasped again when he left the bridge and came to Alexander, quite as if it was the most ordinary thing in th world for a boy to call him down. "What do you want, young man?” said he in an amiable tone. The Bishop, who had expected to see Alexander thrown Into the sea, heaved a sigh of relief and opened his eyes as wide as he could, for he expected to be aston ished for the neutt few minutes, and he wanted to be prepared. "I want to go to Paris directly, but they tell me it is physically impossible, so r want you to let me out at Havre I've made a mistake in the steamer. Just let me out at Havre; that's all.” "All right,” said the captain. ‘‘l feel lhat I am putty in your hands. Bui [ am likely to lose my position if I do it." "Not if I see your bosses, whoever they are," said Alexander, 'simply. "You'il be pleased to know that Bishop Dunham has offered m“ his upper bertrh." "Pleased, but not astonished. If you hold up all the passengers I won t he at all surprised.” Alexander flushed. “I am as honest as you are. Don't let me keep you from your duties. Tell the man that runs the rudder to change our course before you forget it, or we may go to Southampton after ail.” The Bishop expected trouble from the passengers. Eor himself, as he was only going for the sea voyage, it did hot make so much difference to him, but he looked to seo the rest of the passengers make a great to do. But in this he was mistak en. The news quickly spread throughout the steamer, and in about a half an hour the passengers assembled and gave three ringing cheers for Alexander. "What’s that for?" asked the boy of the bishop. “Why, it seems that you have inadvert ently done them a favor. They were ell going to the exposition, and none of them was able to get passage on the French lines, and you have saved them at least a day.” After that Alexander was a greaf favor ite with ail on hoard. Even the Captain felt that a boy with such a wonderful will could make it right for him and as he was the only one responsible to the agents, the rest of the crew did not care at all. They were glad of a change in the route. But the Captain had forgotten one thing, and that was that to him the. route to Havre was a strange one. That is why, k a noon, on the sixth day out, there was a terrific shock that told every one that the ship had struck something. All was confusion in an instant. Pas sengers shrieking, sailors commanding coolness, and the Captain, as pale as death, but perfectly calm. Alexander and the Bishop rushed from the stateroom together. The boy kept on until he had reached the bridge where the Captain was standing. “Boy. this is your fault. Can you make this right with my 'bosses,' as you call them? We are surely lost.” Alexander hung his head. For a min ute he was utterly cast down and fully realized that he was to blame for the aw- disaster. For it was plain that the ship could not keep afloat a half hour. A large French steamer, the Ville do Dreyfus, hove in sight. She was just large enough to save tho crew and pas sengers of (ho Bucolic. But she contin ued on her way. A groan went up from the Bucolic’s passengers. The Captain straightened his shoulders and prepared to accept dedth like an English sailor. Alexander felt that on him lav the re sponsibility for the affair. He seized a speaking trumpet that happened to b# handy and yelled: “Come and save up!” The French captain heard him and rec ognized the authority of the tones, hut did not understand what was said. H continued to sail away. "Say it in French.” said the bishop. ( , is it. French?” said Alexander. ”1 don't know a word, but 'oui' and ‘non.’ "I don’t know much nlyself, but 1 think it is 'Venez, ( t nous sauvons.' " Alexander had a quick ear, and with- out kno win# what the words meant by themselves, he shouted what the bishop had told him. It must have been a villainous accent, and bad French, too. but the imperlors tones had iheir due effect, and the French man hove lo end rescued the passengers and the crew of the doomed Bucolic and not a moment too soon. As the bishop and Alexander and ihe brave captain step ped aboard ihe Villa de Dreyfus ihd Bucolic went from the sight of the mor tal mon forever. Alexander learned more French befo-e he returned to America, hut he never sail anything half h effective as those four words. He did not have to make it iuht with the captain’s losses, for the capta n who was ah elderly •man, resigned and went to llv© at Portsmouth. Alexau er and Bishop Dunham went to the exposi: on together, and' the boy sent home in n let ter to his parents a beautifully resolution from the Bucolic's passengers praising him for saving, first a day In the voyage, and then the rest of their lives, good came of evil after all. Bui it nev* r does to hank on il. —Sir Richard "Webster, the new Eng lish Master of Rolls In succession to Sir Nathaniel Ldndtuiy, was born in 1842. and is the second son of Thomas Webster, the famous lawyer. He Is a Charterhous*’ alumnus and has been Attorney General three times. SCHOOL? AMD COLLEGES. DAQITIAWO BECFRED. M*.T deposit men*? lUIJI 1 lllnd f° r tuition In bank UII secured, or will accept note* Cheap board. Car fare paid. No vacation. Kilter any time. Open for both sexes. • DRAUGHON’S /ft PRACTICAL Jjr/tA business^- Nn.livllle, Tonn. Sftv#nn*li, fi. (iuhfhton, Tex, Texarkana, Ter. 'lndorsed hr merchant* and bankers ® Three mouths’ bookkeeping with equals six. elnewhsre. Allcommercial branches taught. Forctrculareeiplaln- Ing •< Beam Rtndr rourte." addrese •• hepattment A.” till college catalogue. addres •• Department MASONIC TKMFL.E. Savannah. O*. M. O’MARA & CO., of O'Mar* Foundry and Machine Col. Brass Founders, AXOU.WU Kiwi u,u gat it ouia. “ BKAUo AND BKOM2B CASTING^ T CAR BRASSKS A SPBCIAL.XX, "■ SCRAP BRASS WANTBD.