ESS
Bemorra in
Bellefonte, Pa., July 19, 190l.
SS TANT.
A COMPARISON.
T’d ruther lay out here among the trees,
With the singin’ birds an’ the bum’I’bees,
A-knowin’ that I can do as I please,
Than to live what folks call a life of ease
Up thar in the city.
Fer 1 really don’t *zactly understan’
Where the comfort is fer any man
In walking hot bricks an usin a fan,
An’ enjoyin’ himself as he says he can,
Up thar in the city.
It’s kinder lonesome, mebbe you'll say,
A-livin’ out here day after day
In this kinder easy, careless way ;
But a hour out here is better’'n a day
Up thar in the city.
As for that, jus’ look at the flowers aroun’,
A peppin’ their heads up all over the groun’
An’ the fruit a-bendin’ the trees way down.
You don’t find such things as these in town
Or ruther in the city.
As 1 said a-fore, such things as these,
The flowers, the birds, an the bum’I’bees,
An’ a-livin out here among the trees,
Where you can take your ease and, do as you
please,
Make it better’'n the city.
Now, all thet talk don’t 'mount to snuff,
’Bout this kinder life a bein’ rough,
An’ I'm sure it’s plenty good enough,
An’ 'tween you an’ me 'taint half as tough
As livin’ in the city.
: —James Whitcomb Riley.
WHERE PLATONICS WERE STRAIN-
ED.
Their relations were purely platonic. At
least she prided herself on that fact. When
any one suggested to her the possibility of
an attachment more tender and affection-
ate she pooh-poohed it with an emphasis in-
dicative of an absolutely sure state of
mind. She was not like other girls, she
said. Several men had found that out.
They began by being friendly, she en-
couraged them, perhaps, in a certain liking
she had for masculine companionship,
which they not infrequently misunder-
stood. Then when the night and the
moon and the soft breezes stirred them to
declarations fraught to more than passing
interest, she was forced to more heroic ut-
teraxces.
‘‘Dear me,’’ she would say, “‘I don’t see
why a man and a woman can’t go on be-
ing juss friends, here in New York. Bob
never acted this way. Why, we rowed
and sailed and tramped together summer
in and summer out, and he never thought
of making a proposal. Dearold Bob! He
had more sense. Brace up now, he a man,
forget it, and so will I, and we’ll just go
on being comrades.”
Some of them got angry. Others accept-
ed it as a matter of course. There is at
least one instance on record of a chap who
really tried a second time and ended by re-
sponding to the usmal throw-down with
whistling a popular air that begins ‘‘Com-
rades, comrades ever since we were boys.”
Upon which occasion she told him he “was
a dear to take it that way, and they have
been better friends ever since.
A few weeks ago she went to spend the
summer with friends in a little hamlet up
the Hudson. Thither also journeyed Bob.
Sh. is a strong, handsome, athletic creat-
ure, fond of outdoor sports. She begins
her season’s swimming long before the dar-
ing small boy thinks the water has lost
enough of its chill. When she is not golf-
ing she is in the tennis court. In the
winter basket ball and long rambles
through snowy woods serve to keep her
cheeks rosy and her eyes bright. And the
man who accompanies her on such walks
needs to be more than a passably good pe-
destrian, for she will soon tire him whose
limbs are not of iron.
Bob is not easily tired. His training
with the college boat crew came in handy,
too, now that the form of sport took an
aquatic turn. The long tramps over the
country roads were varied with sailing,
swimming, and an occasional hour of pad-
-dling in Bob’s beautiful new canoe. The
last, in fact, was rapidly becoming the
favorite sport. But now she avers that
canoes, like men, are mighty uncertain
cregtures.
It happened this way. They had started
out for an early morning paddle. So
early, in fact, that the rest of the house-
hold was still asleep. But the air was
crisp and the sun rising behind the Jersey
hills made a picture long to be remember-
ed. She is quite sure that she will remem-
gr it. He has no doubts on the subject,
he was sitting in the bow of the canoe
trailing her hands in the still water and
enjoying it all so much that it startled her
when Bob’s aimless conversation took an-
other turn. He did not say much ; but it
was all so sudden, there was such a depth
of tenderness in the tone, and it was so im-
pressive that she gave a sudden start.
That did the trick. The canoe turned
turtle, and in an instant they were both
floundering in the water.
‘Great Ceesar,’”’ he shouted, “I didn’t
mean it. Can’t you take a joke ?’’
He was clinging to one end of the canoe
and she had found safety by throwing her
arm over the other end.
‘It was too much of a shock,’’ she an-
swered. ‘Iam surprised at you! How
dare you! Oh, Bob, I'm so disappointed
in Jou.”
‘But, I tell you, I didn’t mean it.”
The speech was not gallant and she may
have resented it, but she only added :
‘‘Well, you oughtn’t to talk nonsense in
a canoe. It’s apt to upset one.”’
‘*So I observe.”’
‘But if you weren’t so set in your no-
tions I might be tempted—?’
‘‘There, now, you're beginning again.
I'm going to swim ashore.’
‘It’s a mile or more,” he shouted.
“For heaven’s sake, not to speak of mine,
don’t think of it.”
“Well, you stop talking nonsense,
then.” ’
‘Tt isn’t nonsense.’’
“It is.”’
“I’m serious.’’
‘“That settles it.”
from the canoe.
shore.”’
He tried waddling along the side of the
canoe to get her arm and detain her. The
shell trembled along its entire length and
sank far down under his weight. She
laughed derisively and he grew pale.
“Very funny, isn’t it?’’ he asked.
““‘Decidedly. Do you think if you sink
it we’ll be any better off?
As she bad ceased to make demonstra-
tions shoreward: he felt that his purpose
was accomplished, and so said nothing. A
moment later he made another great mis-
take.
‘It’s getting along,”’ he said. ‘‘Some-
body will be out fishing soon and pick us
up.”’
It was her turn to look scared.
“What would they think if they found
Her arms came down
“I’m going to try for the
us like this?’ she ventured.
permit it.”’
‘‘But everybody around here knows
we're just friends,”’ he said. ‘‘Yon know
you’ve talked Plasto till—’
“Don’t be silly. It wasn’t that I
feared. I don’t care what they think on
that subject. But I don’t propose to have
them think I went out with a stupid man
who couldn’t paddle a boat without upset-
ting iv.”
*‘Not to speak of a silly girl who didn’t
know enough to keep still.
For answer she gave a kick that sent the
spray into his eyes. Then she shrieked
with laughter. His arms were beginning
to get very tired, and it suddenly occurred
to him that she also might be fatigued.
‘‘If yon keep quiet a moment,” he said,
I'll swim around to you and hold you up;
that will rest you.”’
*‘Pshaw! Rest
right.”
He paid no attention to the injunction,
and a few strokes brought him to her side.
The tide was running strong, and they
were drifting further and farther from the
shore.
‘‘Just place one hand on me, if you
dare,”’ she shouted, ‘‘and I'll let go the
canoe. Then see how quickly it'll be out
of sight.”” The threat was effective. If
was a pretty new canoe, and he had no de-
sire to lose it. So commenting on her
stubbornness he waddled back and took
hold of his end again.
Then a sound of oars was heard, and
soon two men in a boat were within a few
yards of them. They had seen the canoe-
wrecked pair and were bearing down rap-
idly upon them. ?
‘‘Say, there,’”” was Bob’s inquiry, ‘‘what
are you two trying to do ?’’
‘‘Hold on a little longer,’’ came back
the answer; we’ll have you fafe in a min-
ute.”
“We're all right ; don’t trouble,” said
the girl.
‘Keep off,’ shouted Bob. “‘If you come
any closer you'll scratch the paint on my
canoe.’’
The rowers lay back on their oars.
‘What do you mean?’ inquired one.
“Do you mean to say that you care more
for the canoe than for—for—'’ he hesi-
tated.
‘For me,” she shouted. ‘‘Yes, that’s
it. For a woman’s only a woman and a
good canoe’s a boat !”’
After some parleying the boatman con-
sented to be careful. With their assist-
ance the canoe was righted, and the friends
made their way shoreward.
But the gossips in the small Hudson
river town have had food for much reflec-
tion, and the oldest dame of them all ad-
mits that even she don’t understand it.
“Why, Jim tells me,’’ she said, ‘‘that
when they got ashore she didn’t show the
least concern for the man. Now, the least
you woald have expected would have been
that she’d throwed her arms ahout him and
say that she would never leave him.
“And didn’t she ?”’
‘No. She just kicked up a pebble,
wrung the water out of her skirt, and
laughed fit to kill. Then she said, kind of
short, ‘Thanks,’ and went into the
house.”’
*‘And did the man seem cut up ?”’
>No. He just looked at his old canoe
sharplike and cussed. ‘I’ll have to blow
in a ten to get it in shape again,” he
said.”’—New York Times.
“I won't
yourself. I'm all
Youngers Leave Prison.
Bandits Have Served Twenty-five Years and Hope
Now to Get Honest Employment.
The release of Cole and Jim Younger
from the penitentiary in St. Paul, Minn.
is the culmination of persistent and untir-
ing efforts on the part of thousands of citi-
zens of Missouri and Minnesota, covering
nearly a quarter of a century.
Cole, Bob and James Younger, Jesse and
Frank James, Carley Pitts, and Clell Mil-
ler, after a long career of brigandage, dat-
ing from the outbreak of the Civil War,
came north into Minnesota in 1876 and on
Sept. 7 rode into the village of Northfield,
drove the citizens indoors and raided the
bank. Cashier Haywood was killed the
the bank vault looted, while a portion of
the band rode up and down the street
shooting at every person in sight. Just as
the robbers prepared to depart, Charley
Pitts was shos and killed by a citizen.
After five days’ pursuit all the Younger
brothers were surrounded in the woods
near the Iowa border and all were wound-
ed hefore they gave up. Clell Miller was
killed. Frank and Jesse James escaped
into Missouri. The Younger brothers were
convicted and sentenced to life imprison-
ment. It was pretty well established that
neither of the Youngers did any killing
and this saved them from capital punish-
ment. :
Since their incarceration Bob,the young-
est, has died and Cole and Jim have been
such model prisoners that State officials,
clergymen and thousands of citizens of
Minnesota have become interested in their
behalf. For ten years the State Legislature
has wrestled with the problem of liberating
them, but either one branch or the other
wonld kill the bill. Last winter, how-
ever, the State Board of Pardons was em-
powered to parole life prisoners. Arch-
bishop Ireland, the late Senator C. K.
Davis, the Governors of Minnesota and
Missouri, Senator Elkins and hundreds of
other prominent persons have asked for |
their release.
Cole Younger was seen at the prison this
afternoon. He had just heard of the action
of the Board of Pardons. :
“It is hard to realize,”’ he said, ‘‘that
we are to gain our freedom to-morrow. It
will require some time to get accustomed
to the changes that have heen made since
we were imprisoned. We have seen the
electric light but electric railways, tele-
phones, bicycles, automobiles, and other
modern improvements will make it a
strange world to us. We have no fixed
plans for the future. We cannot leave the
State, and hope to find suitable employ-
ment. We are old men now and cannot
do heavy work.” :
Cole. Younger is 56 years old and Jim
is 54. ;
EE ———
——In an up town boarding house a
stranger sat down for breakfast with the
rest of the household for the first time the
other morning. He - was unacquainted
with all save the landlady, who placed
him between two very pretty young women
and then, receiving a summons from the
kitchen, hastened away without giving the
newcomer the benefit of the customary in-
troduction to his neighbors. The table
was soon filled with boarders, and the
query went around what was the food un-
der preparation in the kitchen, the odor of
which was most pleasing. “Why, is it
bacon,’’ remarked one of the young ladies.
“I just love bacon,’’ said the other, as she
glanced shyly at the stranger. That mo-
ment the landlady entered the room. ‘‘I
beg your pardon, Miss Jones,’’ she said,
‘‘let me present you to Mr. Bacon.”” The
smile which followed was so long that it
went around the table and so loud that the
cook dropped a platter in the kitchen.
Contrasts in Mexico.
Wide Differenge Between Peons and the Aristoc-
racy. Exclysiveness of the Rich Old Family.
Beauty of Mexican Women.
em
A Guadalajara Mexico letter to ths New
York Sun says :
By the grace of contrast Mexicans are
usually picturesque. Wherever the sight-
seer goes in this ancient land he cannot
help noticing the wide difference between
the aristocracy and peasantry. There is
no middle class. Inthe afternoon the
plazas and the streets are thronged with ele-:
gantly gowned women, and alongside them
are ten times their number of the mostwoe-
fal, hungry, poverty-stricken women, eye
has ever looked upon. At the bull fights
the difference in station hetween the peo-
ple who occupy the cushioned canopied
seats about the president of the ceremonies
and the country men who sit in the blaz-
ing sun on rude benches across the plaza
is as wide as the poles.
Distinctions in caste are drawn every-
where in Mexico. There are places in the
market where no peons may trade. There
are cars for the peons and cars for the ar-
istocracy. There are parts of the theatre
where peons may never enter, and it would
be shameful for an aristocrat to enter the
home of a peon. There are plazas for the
peons and others, more beautiful and or-
nate, for the upper class. In the evening
when the band plays, the listening poens,
who adore music, are not allowed in the
inner walk, and under no circumstances
may they occupy seats. You may see the
poens, the men in huge sombreros, the
women in somber rebosas circling in
throngs on the outer walk, while their su-
periors in the social scale form another re-
volving wheel on the inner circle. Never
were social demarcations more rigidly
made in our own South.
But the poen is ahove all, patient and a
victim of the vice of contentment. Though
he has nothing, and his children are beg-
gars, he is satisfied and never murmurs,
even when he pays his share of the public
taxes. South of the Rio Grande is a na-
tion of philosophers. Perhaps it is the
perennial sunshine, the calming influence
of the mountain and valley scenery, the
very old-fashioned ways or the primitive
thought. Anyhow, one observes the
change directly he leaves busy, ambitious
Texas and crosses the Rio Grande into
sunny, polite, ancient and tranquil Mex-
ico. Wide as is the gulf between the two
castes, there is everywhere a spirit of con-
tentment. Born a peon, a beggar or a
burden bearer, the peon expects to remain
so always. He does not waste his energy
in vain ambitions to become a caballero or
a gentleman.
The aristocratic cabellero is one of the
proudest men alive. He and his family
are serene in their social and financial po-
sition. They have been born to shipping
facilities and agricultural resources that
have furnished abundant means of life for
many gererations. Therefore, what's the
use of bothering about bettering their
pockets? They have an army of docile
poens to serve them, just as their ances-
aors were served. There was never a hoy-
cott or a strike in the land. They, too,
are content.
The Diaz administration has amelio-
rated the condition of the poens, but they
are still in social servitude because they
are in the control of the rich, to whom
they owe money for their bare living. Not
one in twenty ever gets or even cares to get
outof debt. The poens do the lahor of man
and beast, especially the latter, in Mexico.
Where horses draw heavy loads of mer-
chandise in America the peon cargaderos
transport the freight on their heads and
shoulders. Many miles of railroad has
been built with peon labor, all the earth
of excavations having been carried away in
baskets by human muscle.
In Mexican mines peons do bit by bit
the heavy work of hauling ores to the
earth’s surface, a service which in every
American mine is done by cables, steam or
electricity. In the ranch fields the peons
are hitched to ploughs and cultivators.
And then how they live l Thousands of
them have no spot they know as home.
It is reckoned that in the balmier months
fully 40,000 peons in the City of Mexico
live out of doors ali the time. A peon
father or mother and seven or eight chil-
dren will sleep in an alley, at the edge of a
plaza or alongside a shed every night for
months.
The peons who have abodes are not
much better off. There are enormous
noisome old tenement houses in such cities
a8 Mexico, Guadalajara, Zacatecas, Chihua-
hua and Guanajuata. The writer has
seen many a peon home where the assets
were worth less than a Mexican silver dol-
lar—50 cents in American coin. When
the evening meal is over the family goes
out on the streets. The women throng the
plazas and streets and the men fill the
pulque shops and gambling halls. When
the hour for sleep comes one and all cud-
dle together on the floor and sleep with
never a thought of the morrow or worry
about domestic finances or the condition of
the labor market. Peon men buy a coarse
suit of heavy fabric and never remove it
until it drops in tatters off their half-ex-
posed bodies. With the poor the zarape
may be a ragged blanket or even a gunny
sack, but such as it is, it is orn by day
as a mantle, and at night it serves as a
coverlet.
Peon families often live in'a single
room in a tenement house, and families of
six and seven in a room are common in
Mexican cities. All the family economy
may be seen through the open doors of the
peonhuts or rooms in the tenement houses.
The family may be seen crouching on the
dirt floor or about a smoking figure, whil
the national dish, tortillas, is in course of
preparation. When the meal is ready each
one dips into the pots over the fire and
gorging begins. It is not uncommon to
see a rooster and several hens fluttering
about a peon family squatted on the floor
engaged in a meal. Very likely a pig, or
even a sow and her pigs, may be seen
meandering about the "apartment, suggest-
ing by grunts that it is time for more food for
the beasts. Naked children and sick and
decrepit old people lying in filth and rag-
gedness on the hard floors are common
sights. :
There is no privacy about a peon’s life.
In the City of Mexico, Guadalajara, Mon-
terey, Vera Cruz and Zacatecas, times
without number have peon families been
seen by the writer preparing their meals
along the streets in the suburbs. Peon
children drop down in siestas alongside the
fire when the meal is over, and the raom-
bling of wagons, the galloping of horses and
the “read of the sightseer’s never rouse
them from sweet and natural slumber.
The peon family has no dreads or worries.
In politeness the average peon family is
a type by itself. Asa class the Mexican
peons are low-voiced, graceful, gestured,
cheerful and courteous. Observe how def-
erential yonder shoeless, white-haired
peon, with clothes on his bent back not
worth ten cents, touches his miserable
old sombrero to you as he wishes you a
smiling good morning. See how graceful-
ly, polite that peon youth across the street is
in thanking another peon for a light from
his cigarette. Glance over there on the
plaza and see how charmingly those two
peon women, with babies in arms, are
greeting each other. Observe the grace of
that low courtesy.
The writer has never seen peon children
quarrel. Little eight and nine-year-old
tots are to be seen everywhere having
charge of their infant brothers and sisters.
It is wonderful what models of patience
and cheerfulness, those black-eyed peon
children are. The writer hasseen a huon-
gry peon child carefully divide an orange
skin, arotting banana, which had been
captured as a prize from the gutter, with a
company of companions. Even when peon
boys and girls scramble for copper centav-
os thrown to them by an American tour-
ist there is an absence of rude jostling.
The contrast between the open frank-
ness of the peons and the seclusion of the
aristocracy in Mexico is striking. There
are few homes 80 cut off from curious eyes
as those of the rich in this caste. The
massive residences of high caste Mexicans
stand flush with the thoroughfares.
They seem to frown upon all the world.
very rarely may one geta glimpse ofa
bome interior through the iron-barred
and wooden-shuttered windows. Ocea-
sionally one may get a passing view of a
beautiful patio with tropical flower gar-
dens, swinging hammocks and a family
group in the shade of a veranda or flower-
ing vine, when a lumbering gate stands
ajar. But that is all the tourists in Mex-
ico sees of high life here until he has let-
ters of introduction.
The richer and older tue Mexican fami-
ly, the more exclusive it is. Many of
high-caste Mexican women are never seen
in public except with their families, and
then it is at the cathedral, the opera or on
an occasional drive behind comparisoned
horses in the afternoon. When a rich
Mexican woman goes shopping, it is by
previous arrangement with the importer of
dry goods. The seunora drives with her
daughters to the stores, where she is re-
ceived by the merchant with all the cere-
mony of welcoming a potentate. They are
led to a beautifully appointed room, away
from all the customers, and for hours the
merchant and his clerks bring and display
the latest importations of women’s wear.
A rich sernoa who would go to market and
participate in the purchase of food would
be the most talked about woman in the
community for a week.
Within the homes of the wealthy Mex-
icans there is rare hospitality, for any and
all who obtain admittance. The mass is
the all-important service in every aristo-
cratic home in the morning. In the
afternoon there are family gatherings in
the secluded home patio, short sietas and
elaborate personal decorations, for the cere-
monious, dinner at twilight, followed by
musicale or games of chance at home or an
evening at the theatre or opera. On cer-
tain days in the week the horses and the
suberb great open carriages are brought
out and the ladies go out for a drive in the
plaza where the band plays. Meanwhile,
Don Caballero may be in his place of busi-
ness, out at the hacienda, or at the mines,
or if he is free from business, he most like
ly may be spending the afternoon at one of
the many gorgeous gambling palaces in
every Mexican town.
Mexican senoras look with horror on the
freedom of American women. The life of
a senorita is thoroughly unlike that of her
American sister. When she is little she s
carried in the arms of ;black-haired nurse,
good-natured and not over clean. She
wears wonderful caps of lace and colored
silks, and a false slip‘ long and flowing, of
the same material over her baby clothes.
When she is a iittle older she is laced into
long, stiff stays and sent to the convent,
and at early night she walks with her
duenna in the plaza and begins to think
about a novio, or betrothed.
The novio is thenceforth the one aim,
and interest of her life. She’ first knows
that he is likely to become such because he
has stared her out of countenance when-
ever she has come upon him in the streets,
and has turned squarely about on the side-
walks and gazed after her, which: is good
manners and a mark of proper apprecia-
tion of her charms. Then he is always to
be found in the plaza when she goes driv-
ing. She is never alone. A duenna has
her and her sisters always until her mar-
riage when she becomes a senora. Dressed
all in black, like pretty penitents, the se-
noritas of each family hurry through the
streets, a duenna in close attendance, to a
mass so early that it still seems like last
night. Their black shawls, of delicate,
crape-like texture, shade their faces. They
are scarcely seen on the streets again until
the fashionable cavalcade on the Paseo be-
gins to sweep its brilliant length around
and around the drive. The garments are
gay uow, brilliantly colored. = Persian in
design. :
Much has heen written of the beauty of
the senoritas of Mexico. Many a tourist
comes here with exalted ideas of the
charms of the high caste young women
with raven hair, soft olive complections
and bewitching eyes. Evidently the
charms of this matchlessly balmy climate
and the wonderful picturesqueness of scenes
everywhere have blurred the critical vis-
ion of many of the writers. when they
came to dwell upon the beauty of the seno-
ritas in general. A large part of the Mex-
ican young women have prominent, heavy
noses. This characteristic is most notice
able among the people in the rural pueblos
in the valleys.
From 10 to 20 most senoritas are in their
prime so far as facial beauty is concerned.
From 20 to 30 the dark pigment in their
complexion developes rapidly, and nine
out of ten of them ruin the softness of
their complexions by inordinate use of
cosmetics and face washes which com-
prises a surprisingly large proportion of the
national imports from Europe and the
United States.
There is no denying that the eyes of the
average Mexican girl except in the low-
est classes have a peculiar mildness long
heavy eyelashes over the dark eyes give
expression of seriousness and pathos that
one never forgets. The hair of the senor-
ita is seldom fine and glossy. All the
women in the peon class deck their coarse
hair squarely across the forehead while
the young women of the upper class deck
their foreheads with an infinite lot of friz-
zes and intricate mazes of finely spun
curls-
A curious fact is that some of the old
families in Mexico have followed a fashion
in hair arrangement characteristic of the
particular family, for several generations.
For instance, there is the rich and power-
ful Yorba family, of Chihuahua. Every
woman in the family for more than 100
ears has frizzed, curled and plastered her
Tair after the style Grandma Yorba, (a
famous belle in her day and an acquaint-
ance of old Queen Mercedes )adopted in
the last days of Spanish: dominion over
Mexico. :
The exquisite black lace mantilla shad-
ing the eyes, the high comb and the coral
and pearl jewelry become a senorita more
than they would any other woman in the
world. Perhaps it is the oddness of these
graceful charms that has won the general
Drains of so many visitors to old Mexico.
e senorita at the opera with her coquet-
tisk fan, her herosed hat her gorgeously
colored silken gowns, look very attractive,
but at close range only a few of the wom-
en have the freshness, the vigor and the
clear cut refined expressions of American
young women of like station.
The real beauty of the Mexican people
is found in the young among the more in-
telligent peons. They have inherited the
fine teeth, the lithe forms, the shapely
necks, and above all the easy carriage of
their Aztec ancestors. Their hair is not
tortured by the hot curling irons, their
gait has not been made artificial by Par-
isian shoes. Their waists have never been
pinched by corsets and they have found
grace and vigorous health ous in the
glorious sunshine of Mexico. Here and
there a barefoot ragged peon girl may be
seen whose beauty would be remarked up-
on in almost any American assemblage.
Unfortunately they blossom early. At
20 the apricot pink of their cheeks becomes
dull brown, their lithe figures bec omes fat
and pudgy and at 30 they are bent and lined.
The peon families are always inordin-
ately large. Seldom does a peon girl
pass her fifteenth year without her mar-
riage, and there are many instances of thir-
teen-year-old mothers in the land. A host
of Mexican women are grandmothers at 32
and great grandmothers at 50. The high
class senoritas mary from 17 to 22.
Boers Chafe at Prison Life.
Transvaalers Openly Say They Want to fight
Again.
A Hamilton, Bermuda, letter savs : The
Boer prisoners here, are taking them as a
whole, a fine looking lot of men.
Visitors feel much sympathy for them
in their lack of occupation and the evident
longing for home and freedom which pos-
sesses them. The Free Staters, who num-
ber some 800 men, have heen placed on
Darrell’s island, and the Transvaalers, a
less contented crowd, whose confessed desire
is to he free to fight again, and who num-
ber only about 130, are on Burtts, or
Moses, island. The former are orderly
and quiet, well mannered, and many of
them educated. Some of them recognize
that their cause is hopeless One of them
said :
*‘I am a wagon maker. Before the war
broke out I used to earn $10 a day at my
trade. I own a farm for which I have
paid in full, at least, I did own it. I sup-
pose the British Government owns it now.
I was pressed into fighting. Had I refus-
ed I would have been shot. I know our
cause is lost. All T want is to return to
my wife and six children. I left them
enough money to last them twelve months
but I have been away now for sixteen
months. However, I trust the British
government will take care of them.”’
This, according to the English officers is
the tone of most of the Free Staters.
No civilians are allowed to talk to the
Boers.
The want of occupation is the chief
cause of complaint among all the prison-
ers. They have busied themselves in the
manufacture of souvenirs which they
readily sell, but their only tools are pen-
knives—sharpened nails and pieces of
wire. One man ingeniously mannfac-
tures knitting needles from barbed wire.
Sandpaper and polish: which harmless
items they will be soon able to purchase at
the canteen now being established at the
camp, are also among their, requirements
as aid in their industries. The local an-
thorities have taken into consideration the
question of providing amusement for
them.
Many of the prisoners have English
names, heing the descendants of English-
men, who married and settled in South
Africa. They speak excellent English, too
and there are several who are British-
born subjects.
On the occasion of the disembarkment
from the troopship to the island camps
last Monday crowds of people gathered in
boats to witness the proceeding. In some
of the boats which got among the craft
conveying the prisoners were several per-
sons who had an opportunity to speak a
few words to the Boers. One woman was
accosted by a prisoner, who apologized for
addressing her by saying that it was so
long—sixteen months since he had had a
chance to speak to a woman that he could
not resist it. The same woman obtained
several souvenirs. such as carved stone
brooches, mechanical toys and carved box-
es, most of them bearing carved images of
President Kruger.
Since the prisoners’ occupation of the
camp martial law has been proclaimed on
the islands and the waters surrounding
them. Two gunboats are placed to define
the dead-line. It is therefore impossible for
civilians to approch the Boers.
The transport Ranee is on her way from
South Africa with a second detachment of
prisoners, and should arrive there in about
two weeks.
Why She Was Mad.
Family Affair, In Which She Had The Right to Partic-
ipate. 4
One morning, in kindergarten, a wee
mite of womanhood had been trying to at-
tract the teacher by every resource of which
she was capable, without directly saying
she had something to tell. Finally the
young girl went over and sat beside her,
whereupon little Rachel flounced her skirts,
puckered up her forehead, and clinching
her hand, exclaimed : ‘‘Oh, dear, but I'm
mad.” The teacher was surprised, for
Rachel had seemed to be lahoring under a
delightful secret : ‘‘And why is little Miss
Sunshine angry ?’’ asked the instructor.
‘‘Well, everybody was mad at our house
this morning. Mamma scolded Sister Jane,
and auntie, scolded mamma and papa said :
‘Oh, darn,’ and left the table; so I guess I
can be cross, to.”’— Motherhood.
Dreamed of His Own Death,
T. H. Gaffney's Fate Just as it Had Seemed in Vision,
* T. H. Gaffney, 55 years old, captain of a
coal barge belonging to the Delaware &
Hudson Coal company, now moored at the
company’s dock Weehawken, N. J., was
killed at 9 o’clock Wednesday, by a train
while crossing the tracks of the West Shore
railroad. ’
Gaffney had a premonition that he would
be killed by railway cars, according to the
story told by his friends. It was only a
few days ago that he said to a friend :
“I think I’m going to be killed. I had
a peculiar dream a few nights ago. I was
crossing the West Shore railroad tracks and
a train bore down upon me. It seemed as
if I could not get out of the way. I could
see the engine come toward me, I could feel
it strike . me and then everything became
oblivion.” :
Gaffney’s death seemed but a repetition
of his dream.
Drenched the Dowieites.
Hose Turned on the Disciples of Zionism to Prevent
a Riot—Undertook to Hold an Open-air Meeting in
Evanston, Ill., Surrounded by Their Guards.
Another crowd of Dowie’s disciples was
mobbed at Evanston, Ill, Thursday.
Twenty-eight women and seventy-two men,
deaconesses and elders, went to Evanston
to hold a meeting. They were accompan-
ied and gunarded by 100 Zion Guards.
Elder W. H. Piper was at the head of the
crowd and when the procession had reach-
ed Davis street and started the meeting the
Dowieites were surrounded by a mob of
1,500 persons. Elder Piper got on a camp
stool to talk. He had barely started his
speech when eggs, decayed fruit, stones
and clubs were hurled at him and his fol-
lowers.
In a short time the Dowieites and the
crowd hecame so demonstrative that Mayor
Patton ordered out the fire department.
A 4-inch hose was attached to a fire plug
and the water turned on. The stream was
directed among the followers of the Zion-
ists. It was a powerful bolt of water that
struck them. Women were knocked down
and were quickly followed by the men who
were unable to stand before the deluge of
water. The water made a panic among
the crowd surrounding the Dowieites.
Many were drenched and being unable to
retreat because of the denseness of the
crowd they were knocked down and
trampled upon. 3
During the time that the water was
thrown into the crowd some of the Dowie-
ites raised their voices in song and contin-
ued singing until the water was shut off.
The 100 guards during the flood of water,
continued to hold their positions about
their charges. They faced the mob,
which surged toward them, still hurling
missilis through the air.
At this juncture Mayor Patton, Chief of
Police Knight and twelve policemen
marched toward the dripping throng of
Dowieites. As they approached, the
guards formed in a stronger line. The
free use of the police officers’ clubs soon
made them open the way and the police
seized Elder Piper, who had again mounted
his camp stool.
He was dragged from the crowd toward
the station, followed by several Dowieites.
As the squad of police with their prisoner
walked down the street toward the police
station a block away, a part of the mob
threw stagnant water upon Piper and
three of his lieutenants, by means of squirt
guns. The men were also struck by acids
which burned their clothing. Daring this
time many eggs struck Piper, and having
been drenched with water he was in a de-
plorable condition.
At last the station was reached. - A num-
ber of other Dowieties were arrested and
taken to the court room of the Evanston
station. Piper was charged with disorder-
ly conduct and inciting a riot. It is prob-
able the others will be released.
Owns Over a Million Acres.
dn.
Duke of Sutherland, the Greatest of Scotch Land-
lords.
Apropos of the brilliant charity fete re-
cently given at Stafford house by the beau-
tiful Duchess of Sutherland the London
‘‘Sketch’’ says : ‘‘The Duke of Sutherland,
why may well be proud of the charming
personality of his brilliant and beautiful
duchess is one of the most capable and clev-
er wearers of the strawberry leaves, as well
as, I fancy, the greatest of Scottish land-
owners. Cromartie Sutherland-Leveson-
Gower, Duke of Sutherland, can look back
to a long line of worthy ancestors; indeed,
the barony held by him, that of Strathnav-
ar, was created in 1228. Curiously enough
the earldom of Sutherland came into the
family through a woman, the powerful,
clever ‘‘Duchess-Countess,’”’ as she was
called, who, though she was ambassador at
the court of Louis XVI and the intimate
friend of Marie Antoinette, is still remem-
bered by some of the very old people on the
Cromartie estates. The Duke of Suther-
land will be 50 next month, but he bears
his years gallantly and has inherited his
fair share of the good looks of the kindly
Duchess Annie, who was the late sovereign’s
beloved friend for so many years. During
many years of his life as Marquis of Stafford
his grace was one of the most notable mat-
rimonial partis in society, and great was
the surprise and chagrin among matchmak-
ing mothers when his engagement to the
still schoolgirl daughter of Lord and Lady
Rosslyn was announced in 1884, he being
at the time 33 while his lovely but as yet
unknown bride-elect had but recently cele-
brated her sixteenth year. As Lord and
Lady Stafford the young couple made them-
selves immensely popular in the Highlands,
and also in Staffordshire and Shropshire;
accordingly their accession to the title,
which took place nine years ago, was hail-
ed with the greatest delight by all those—
the Duke is owner of over a million acres
—whose fortunes are more or less inter-
mingled with those of the great Scottish
noble and his philanthropic duchess. He
is a keen sportsman, a good shot, a patient
angler and an enthusiastic yachtsman—in-
deed, probably the holidays most enjoyed
by himself and the duchess are those spent
on the deck of the Cantania. He is also the
kindest of uncles to a large circle of nephews
and nieces. It is to be hoped that his heir
the present marquise of Stafford, a wel}
known lad of 13, will follow his footsteps.’’
Married the Family.
A good story is told in Missouri at the
expense of its once most famous governor—
Claiborne F. Jackson. Before he solved
the enigma of lovelock he had married five
sisters—in reasonable lapses of consecutive-
ness. After one wife had been lost and ap-
propriately mourned he espoused another,
and he kept his courtship within a narrow
circle of his own relatives, for he rather
liked the family.
The antiquated father of these girls was
almost deaf, and when the Governor went
to this octogenarian to usk for his surviv-
ing daughter, the following conversation
ensued :
“I want Lizzie !"’
“Eh Mn
“I want you to let me have Eliz-a-
beth 1?’
‘Oh, you want Lizzie, do you? What
for?’
“For my wife !"’
“For life !”’ ’
‘I want—to—marry—her !"’
“Oh, yes! Justso. I hear you, boy.”
“I'm precious glad you do!’ muttered
the Governor. 3
‘‘Well,”’ slowly responded the veteran,
‘‘you mneedn’t halloa so that the whole
neighborhood knows it! Yes; you can
have her. You've got’m all now, my lad ;
but, for goodness sake, if anything ' hap-
pens to that ’ere poor, misguided gal, don’t
come and ask me for the old woman !”’
Jack solemnly promised that he never
would.
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