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THE PITTSBURG DISPATCH
"M ' v .
PAGES 17 TO 20. "
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CITY'S SEAMY SIDE,
Exploring the Crowded By
Ways of WMtechapel.
OF THE HIPPER.
What Was.Seen in the Kojal London
-, Theater for One Penny.
A CHEAP EESAUBAHT IH LONDON
mniE ros tbi swatch.!
E speak of Whitechapel
nil fin invnlnntarilr
tBv shudders, for "Jack the
Ripper" and his gruesome deeds come to
the mind. And yet one cannot but have a
sort of curiosity to see the place and the peo
ple from whom so fiendish a monster could
spring if, indeed, he is one of the teeming
thousands who inhabit the scene of his
It was this curiosity which led me to ex
plore the regions of Whitechapel ; and one
pleasant evening we took the "yaller 'bus"
in iront oi the Bank of England, wherein
Extending a Warm Welcome.
ia piled up wealth enough to make all the
'poor in London rich, and leaving to our left
the Boyal Exchange, where England's
shrewdest business men listen dally to the
teart-beats of the financial worldjjo up
Cornhill and along Leadennall street until
we come cuton Whitechapel road.
It is a wide street the widest we have
teen in the metropolis but none too spa
cious to accommodate the seething, surging
tide of humanity which presses along in
ceaseless procession. It is between 7 and 8
o'clock. The thousands of men and women,
girls and boys and children who have been
penned up in factory, shop and close room,
hard at work, all day long, arenow out for
recreation and sport. The shops dingy
and small the most of theru, bat apparently
crammed to the root with goods are filled
with customers, while the busier Market on
the street, "the constant fair" of which
Besant speaks, is a sight not soon for
gotten; for here are peddlers, hawkers,
cheap Johns, quack doctors, street
preachers, temperance orators, the Sal
Tatiou Army, organ grinders, flower girls,
street singers, slight of hand performers
alftalking at the top of their voices, here
one. urging the crowds to embrace an oppor
tunity to buy which may never come again,
there another beseeching them to accept a
free salvation ere it is everlastingly too late.
singing, playing, praying, pleading, jostling
and crowding along, all very much in ear
nest, all good humored.
And where do all the children come from?
Surely such troops ot them are found no
where else on earth. They are here in
droves, bareheaded, barefooted, dirty and
. ragged, darting through the crowd, dodging
miraculously the horses' leet and the wheels
The heroine and Ute Villain.
of vehicle', playing in the gutters and on
'doorsteps, apparently healthy, and if not
happy, then their glee is certainly well
' PALACES FOB THE POOE.
The buildings are old, mostly small, and
certainly far from imposing in appear
ance with the exception of the public
.nouses, xnese are ornate and gay beyond
compare, and pat their humble surround
ings to blush. Their great double-doors
swing on noiseless Hinges, the windows are
' of stained glass, ornamented with many a
strange device, while the floors and walls
are set with gay tiles. The "private bar,"
for the refreshment of those who are
too good to mix their company
or their drink with the common
herd, the "ladies' bar," where fair creatures
rather easy as to manners, loud as to dress
and gayas to conversation, sip their glasses
in respectable seclusion, are furnished in
magnificent style, while even the general
bar, a sort of common ground where all, old
' and young, men, women and children, crowd
to drown their sorrows and augment their
joys, is gorgeous with brass and gilding and
It is ft study to note the people there.
There are so many types of character. Sough,
bearded workingmen taking their 'arf o
bitter and going quietly home; rough-looking
men who evidently don't work much,
and whom we wouldn't care to meet in a
lonely place after dark; swaggering young
bloods who call the barmaids by their first
"..! -".?. vr"rz?-. "i"""' . "
y , buses wiin uresmiiue assurance, womca
with babes in their arms, to whose lips they
press the glass after they have inbibed ot its
contents themselves; young girls, scarcely in
their teens, yielding to the persuasions of
their "chaps" and taking "just a diopj" old.
toothless -women, drinking fiery gin ana
garnishing their animated conversation with
many a "sez T and "sez she." "Wrecks of
manhood, wrecks of womanhood, wrecks of
childhood, even, all are here clutching at
the cup which sinks them deeper in deg
radation and despair. Nor is the picture
altogether without its amusing side, for
there are those who are drunk and want to
sing, those who are drunk and thirst for
gore, those who are drunk and desire only
to sleep, but none of these enjoyments are
permitted them, and they are unceremo
niously bundled out on the street, where a
policeman orders them to "move on," and
they stagger along with the great proces
sion. These public houses are to be seen on
every side. They are the curse of that sec
tion. Other houses are old and shabby, but
these are bright and gay; other places are
deserted, these are always full; shops may
have no customers, the bars are ever busy.
Why so many of them are licensed, and
why they are permitted to sell apparently
indiscriminately to old and young, drunk
and sober, is a mystery, and one cannot
help thinking that if any place on earth
needs a Judge White it is East London.
A COBDTA1 IXTITATIOjr.
We stroll along until a crowd, principally
children, in front of a little, low building
attracts our attention. There is a sign dis
played, "The Boyal London Theater," and
a rusty old curtain, is draped across the
Iront of the house. A red-faced gentleman
in top boots, and whose voice is in the last
stages of huskiness, invites the people to
"Do not delay, good people," he cries.
" 'Ere's yonr chance to witness the grand
dramyof 'The Flowers of the Forest, hin
three hacts, to be followed by a screamin'
fawce hentitled 'Three-haporth o' Cheese.'
We'avejust returned from a tower of the
Provinces, where we heverywhere met with
hunexampled success. Hour company hin
cludes Mr. Hedward Mortimer, the world
renowned tragedian; Miss Clara Fitz'erbert,
the great hemotional hactress; hand halso,
"Billy Kirk, the comegian, who 'as brought
smiles to the faces of two 'emispheres.
Hadmission honly a penny; children a
'apenny. Come forward now while seats
may be secured. That you may know what
sort of a hentertainment awaits you, the
company will come to the front of the 'ouse
and give you a hexibition of tlreir powers."
The talented troupe came ont and Billy
Kirk, an old man who looked about a's
jovial as a tombstone showed another mem
ber how to "see nothing," and perpetrated
several other lite antediluvian pleasantries
It Slight Save Been Jack the Sipper.
to the uproarious delight of the children,
after which Mr. .Mortimer, a sallow gentle
man with flowing locks of black, trod a
graceful measure with Miss Eitzherbert. A
last appeal against further delay was made
by the husky individual, and then the bell
rang for the curtain to rise. We gave a
sixpence to the lady at the ticket office, who
produced the fourpence change from a mys
terious pocket, apparently located some
where in the innermost recesses of her being,
and went in.
The theater was about 10x12, and the
seating facilities consisted of two planks
placed on boxes. The very select audience
was made up of two disreputable-looking
old men, two young women, three young
men, an old man who smoked a long clay
pipe during the performance, nine small
boys and ourselves the entire house
amounting to thirteenpence-hapenny. The
husky .gentleman lound seats lor us by
knocking two unfortunate small boys off a
plank, and the curtain went up.
A DRAMATIC TREAT.
What a drama that was! We almost break
our hearts laughing at the old comedian's
jests, while Mr. Mortimer was tragically
ridiculous. He trod the eight by ten stage
with majestic stride, and murdered the
gipsy maiden's noble lover and the Queen's
English with equal rutblessness. Miss
Eitzherbert, as the gipsy maiden, was by
turns "sweetly solemn, -wildly sad."
"'Ere comes me father," she cried. "Ho!
will 'e give cf e a father's blessin' or a
Her parent, a stout gentleman in a blue
silk jacket, corduroy trousers and a bat
tered Derby hat, soon dispelled her doubts,
for he cursed her in ''good, set terms" and
drove her from the Bomanycamp. A weak
knoed young man, who continually forgot
his lines and wss alternately promoted and
sworn at in audible tones lrom the wings,
killed someone, for no discernible reason.
bnt declared before "'igh 'eaven, hi honly
hintended to wing 'iml" At last the cur
tain went down on the only seene, an inter
mission often minutes was announced, and
the husky gentleman again besought those
outside no longer to delay.
By this time it is 11 o'clock. The crowd
on the streets show no signs of diminution,
and the fun seems even more hilarions. We
leave the "Boyal Theater" and look around
for a guide to take us into that section made
notorious by the murders. Strange to say,
those whom we approach manifest a disin
clination to give any information. At last
we find a young gentleman moistening his
day at the "Lamb and Flag" who tenders
us his services. He introduces himself as
"J. Sharp, Esq," and informs us that he
nightly supports Isabel Bateman in the
drama of "Jane Shore" at the Pavilion
Theater, assuming the arduous part of popu
lace. "Under this incipient tragedian's guidance
we leave Whitechapel Road and traversing
Baker's Bow. Old Montague and Great
"j" -n:;. -. ?....? v
mw wictw wumc vna .inwum street, j
" ' $?? ' : A
Weurq now about ihe center of the scenes
of London's most startling tragedies. It is
a forbidding neighborhood. The houses are
low and mean looking, the shutters on most
of the windows beine closely shut The
streets ore narrow and ill-lighted. The
cross streets seem almost deserted, but those
leading from the road -are thronged.
Publio houses abound, of course, all
of them crowded, and the noises
are suggestive, sometimes of revelry, some
times of riot. Groups of women, mostly
young, many not over 15, come out and go
along, apparently hall-crazed with drink
and excitement. Singing, shouting, laugh
ing, the echoes of their wretched glee come
back from the dark, dismal streets like the
shrieks of the lost. Hades could hardly
hold a sadder scene than this.
AN EAST EUD EATING HOUSE.
At one corner is a large eating house,
where the coarsest food is served, fish,
sausages and fried onions seem their special
ties. The process of cooking can he seen
through the windows, and scores of hungry
eyes watch the viands sizzling in the grease.
There is quite a crowd, and the waiters are
selling pennyworths and halfpennyworths
of their delicacies on all sides. Children
buy a sausage and divide it on the curb
stone. Old women mumble at a slice of
bread spread with onions and lick, their
skinny fingers afterthe savory feast Bough
looking men, with red handkerchiefs about
their necks, tear a fish to pieces and chew it
regardless of bones, A gaunt, hollow-eyed
woman, holding to her breast a pale, sickly
baby, begs a penny and buys a fish. Before
tasting it herself, she picks the bones from
two or three mouthfuls and gives them to
the babe in her arms. Then ravenously de
vouring the remainder, she folds the child
in the corner of her scanty shawl and flits
away into the darkness.
It is thus all over wild, reckless, defiant
drunkenness and debauchery, or abject, de
graded poverty and want One looks in
vain for a ray or spark ot good. It is not
there. The better jside of human nature
seems utterly gone. There is nothing left
but that which is unlovely,coarse, hardened,
We have had enough, and take a short
cnt to Brick lane. ' As we pass along a nar
row, dark cross street, a man comes out
from the darkness of an alley and looks at
us. The light of a lamp on the other side
shows his face, thin and ghastly pale, with
large black eyes, deeply sunken, out gleam
ing with a strange glare. In one hand he
carries -a black oilcloth satchel. There is
something about his glance which makes
one's flesh creep.
"jar. Hydel" I Involuntarily whispered
to ray companion.
"Jack the Kipper!" he answers. At
which- the tragedian from the Pavilion
Theater incontinently takes to his heels, nor
do we overtake him until the lights and
crowd on Brick lane restore him to com
posure, we readily accept his rather lame
apologies, for, as Mr. Snngsby would say,
"not to put too fine a point upon it," we
had felt somewhat like hurrving ourselves.
We are soon back on Whitechapel road,
and dismissingl J. Sharp, Esq., with his re
ward, we go to the Metropolitan Bailway
station to await our train. Here we find
Mr. Billy Kirk, the ancient comedian of the
"Boyal London Theater," accompanied by
a fresh-faced, honest looking young man,
evidently his son. We strike up a conver
sation, and learn that on their wav to the
station the young man had taken his father
into a public house with the filial intention
of buying a "dram" for him. A dispute
with the bar keeper over the payment had
led to a score of ruffianly hangers-on attack
ingthem, and only the timely arrival of the
police saved them from serious trouble.
A CEUSHED TEAOEDIAN.
The old actor was greatly worked up. He
paced the platform with the stride of a
Kemble or Macready, and grew more tragic
with each word.
"Talk habout yer Hinjrlish fairplay!" he
cried. "Where do ver pet itr who rim
it yer? Whafll they'xro?"i3reeT'upBeV
'ind yer, 'it yer hin the-neck hand jump
hoa yer when yer down. His that
the way Britons used to fieht?
His that the war thev doe hin TTamxricn?
No! Hi've been there, hand I know them
by 'art Hin Hamerica no gentleman hever
raises 'is 'and to hanother. Hif two gents
quarrel they don't go hat heach bother with
their 'ands, but they locks themselves hup
hin a dark room, ties one 'and be'ind their
backs, drors their bowie knives, hand there,
halone hand hin darkness, they fights by
the hear, hand not by the heye.
During this bloodcurdling recital he
crosses one hand behind his back and darts
from one side of the platform to the other,
dealing furious cuts and slashes at an im
aginary foe. With artful flattery we say:
"Sir, you ought to be on the stage."
" 'E's hon hit now," cries the son in a
delighted aside, at which we express grati
'Honly a poor clown, gents," says Mr.
Kirk in a i self-deprecatory sort ot a way
only a clown. 'A poor player, that struts
hand frets 'is hour hupon the stage, hand
then his heard no more.' The time was but
no matter, no matter," and he waves the
part away with gloomy sternness. Just
then the snorting trains rush in ont of
ue uarsness or tne underground lines, and
he and his sou go their way. and we go ours.
A JOKE OK BIS AUNT.
The Bad Boy Gets In Tronblo by Asking
Detroit Free Press. 1
There is a small boy in this town who sel
dom speaks but when he does he "always
says something smart His latest is this.
Hjs-elderiy maiden aant was entertaining a
young beau, and they were looking over
some pictures in an old book filled with
works of ancient art
'How charming those costumes!" re
marked the aunt gushingly; "howl I wish I
had lived in those days when people wore
such beautifni clothes."
'Well, didn't you?" piped in a shrill
voice at her elbow, and a moment later a
snull boy went to bed with a tear in his
That Unfortunate bcalTpln.
Mr. Milkitt Have yon any real spring
TheGrocer No: but we've coj'a prettv I
good specimen of a real sprin og, an' he
don't like t' be guyed! -Jwlgt)
CHRISTMAS IN CAME
Mrs; General Caster Tells of a Yale
Tide on the Frontier.
A JOLLY DIHfiE&IH THE BAEEACK8
Merriment and-Joy Despite UnfflYorable
HIKING GISTS DKDBE DIFFICULTIES
rWBITTXX rOB TBS SISFATCH.1
Sometimes I think our Christmas on the
frontier was a fsr greater event to us than to
anyone in the States, we all had to do so
mnch to make it a success. Our ingenuity
was taxed, to the utmost, as we had no
tempting shop windows to point out to us by
their beguiling beauty what would be "just
the thing" for this or that one. "My brain
reels," said one of my pretty friends, and she
ran her fingers through her bangs in a most
reckless manner, farrowed her brow, thus
proving that the "reeling" was going on.and
I knew that the rapid approach of
December 25 was the cause. "I have
made John a smoking jacket, slip
pers and all the stereotyped presents
for men, audi last summer, while the cam
paign was keeping our people in the field, I
made, him a robe-de-nuit that he said was so
beruffled and'befrilled he knew he would
mistake his identity, And that if I clothed
him in such purple and fine linen for I
even put in lilac ribbon he would surely
take himself for somebody else, which meant
me. Now, what shall I make this year?"
This despair was brought to- an end by a
happy thought An old cap was ripped,
the visor, which had survived the tooth of
time, was rubbed and oiled into freshness,
and the "exact copy" we all pronounced
equal to the best work of a military hatter.
The really difficult part of the work was
the insignia of the crossed sabres for the cav
alry, and the number 7 of our regiment
underneath, worked in bullion. The latter
was obtained by rubbing a pair of tarnished
shoulder-straps, turning the golden thread,
which was still bright on the under side,
and using it for the new work.
Whatever we did we were obliged to con
coct under very trying circumstances, if we
attempted secrecy, for our men were always
in and out of the house dozens of times a
day. We had no opportunities for long,
uninterrupted sessions ot occupation, as do
women in the States, where the husband
goes to his avocations in the morning and
does not appear until 6 at night The offi
cers' day began at reveille, when they went
to roll-call, then came stables, guard-mounting,
inspecting the mess, drill, perhaps
court-martial duty and dress parade, stables
again, retreat and tattoo roll-call. It will
be easily seen that they were flying in and
out of their quarters between these various
duties all day long.
SECEECT AND CELEBIIJT.
I watched for months a horse's head being
stitched into canvas for a sofa pillow. No
real horse had a more active life. When
the sound of a clanking sabre and the jingle
of spurs announced the arrival of the head
of the house,, the work was rolled in a heap,
thrust under a lounge, or in a drawer, with
a celerity that increased with practice; for
the quick movements of an active cavalry
man necessitated great haste on the part of
anyone who vied with him in speed.
A Seventh. Cavalry bride attempted with
great trepidation the manufacture of her
first masculine garment a smoking jacket
It was impossible to make a success without
lnnumeraDie-riryiDgs -en,-so-she lrapressru-
the striker (soldier servant) into her serv
ice. He was a model of neatness and re
spect, and SB he wa3 about the size of his
captain, and had little else to do bat stand
and be fitted, the garment was gradually
smoothed into beautiful shape. While the
scissors snipped and the needle flew in the
busy fingers, the striker stood guard in the
ball or on the porch. If he saw his captain
coming home across the parade ground, he
came to announce the arrival, but should he
appear unawares from another direction, a
lively little tune whistled in the corridor
was the warning that sent the jacket flying
into the depths of the closet, while the little
bride, with a conscious blush, met her hus
band at the door, trying to look as if holi
day presents had never entered her mind.
The Christmas dinner was a feast that re
quired long and earnest search in cathering
the materials for its construction. It we
chanced to be near a little town and few
forts on the frontier are without a village
just outside the very edge of a Government
reservation no one" rode through the place
without throwing a calculating glance into
every yard or about the door yard of the
less pretentious huts. A chicken, duck or
turkey was quickly noted, and the owner
was called out to find a booted and spurred
cavalryman at the door, who accosted him
with the usual frontier salutation : "I say,
stranger, can I engage my Christmas"dinner
Once we were thrown into a state of envy
by one of our officers, who surprised us on
the long-looked-for holiday by roast pig.
The apple that distended the jaws of the
toothsome little animal might well stand
for the apple of discord, until we found how
much he paid for the piece de resistance of
his dinner table, .naturally he would have
to pay well, for every one out there in that
country that was just begun, was anxious
to increase his stock. That same dinner,
we had as an ingredient of the soup tiny
birds that were delicious. They reminded
us forcibly of the nursery rhyme, "Four
and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie."
That winter tras extremely cold, and there
was no sign of insect or animal life on the
bleak plains except these hardy little snow
birds. The ground about the stables where
the horses were fed and groomed was black
with this swarming bird life. They were
very lame and settled themselves all over
the horses. Sometimes an animal's back
was completely outlined from the ears to the
tail with these tiny chattering creatures.
But no one bad thought until this Christ
mas feast of utilizing them.
Though one of the-remote garrisons in
which tte were stationed had enough people
within its limits to make a good-sized town,
there were but three children of officers. The
row of houses occupied by the laundresses
had the usual ornaments to the iront door
and steps that is common to the Irishman,
but the three youngsters in the garrison
were all the child lite we saw, and they
were idols in their way. One mother gave
up from the start trying to celebrate with a
Christmas tree, but the others persisted.
.Notwithstanding mat even on a summers
day we looked as far as the eye could see on
the sunburnt grass of the plains,
WITHOUT A TEEE,
or hardly a twig of green; still, the fond
mother somehow seemed to believe that
Should anyone go far enough they would
either find an evergreen, or else, by some
necromancy of the nineteenth century, a
withered tree would be made to put forth
foliage especially for her boy. The child's
"paternal" sent a detail ot men from his
comnany in every direction, but no signs of
green could be found in that desert land.
Then the commanding officer, now deeply
interested in the canse, sent another detail
of men for a radius of 40 miles around the
post, but with no success. The soldiers,
tired of the tedium of their confined winter
life in garrrison without drills, parades, or
scouts, undertook even more than was re
quired of them, but the search was hope
less. Still undaunted, the doting woman
tboueht out a way. Down by the river the
l a&cicbuu ui wuoii uu veeu icrceu vuttuu-
skeleton of what had keen a green cotton-
wood sapling ia' the suamer was cut the
proper height, and fastened upright in a
Jbox standard ia.
reosa, The I
DECEMBER 22, 1889.
branches of this she covered with green
tissue paper, and cut leaves out for its sparse
foliage. Fortunately, there were tapers at
the sutler's, for these stores, of which there
is one at every post, are like a village shop,
where the merchant starts out by buying "a
little of everything," and as years advanced
the old-time things are shoved back on the
shelves, or put out of sight, for1 ihere can be
no "clearing out" sales on the borders oi
civilization. Among this surplus stock, a
box of the old Noah's ark occupants was
unearthed, and a few of the wooden toys
dating back to the childhood of our oldest
officer. The stiff little trees, with their
verdant tops. of burled sbavincrs stained a
vivid green, were not more prim than the
wooden soldiers, with the wonderful chest
development, who grasped rigidly an old
time gun; but the little king at this revelry
reached just as greedily for the ramrod-like
soldier as he did for the colored glass balls
or the apples bristling with cloves which
swayed over his head.
A CHEEBFUI. SAY.
If one onlv considers that we were hun
dreds of miles from a railroad, that it was
the dead of winter, and that it was only
with the greatest difficulty, and even at the
risk of life, that our mail reached us, it
will be understood what obstacles were sur
mounted to celebrate even a baby's holiday.
Our universal custom was for all of us to
spend all the time we could together. All
dayJong the officers were rnnning in and
out of every door; the "Wish you Merry
Christmas" rang out over the parade ground
after any man who was crossing to attend to
some duty, and had not shown up among
us. We usually had a slcighride, and
every one sang and laughed as we sped over
the country, where there were no neighbors
to be disturbed by our gayety. If it was
warm enough there poured out of gar
rison a cavalcade vehemently talking, ges
ticulating, laughing, or humming bars of
Christmas carols remembered from child
hood, or starting some wild college or con
vivial chorus where everybody announced
that they "wouldn't go home till morning."
in notes very emphatic if not entirely
The feast of the day oyer we adjourned
from dinner to play some games of onr child
hood, in order to make the States and our
homes seem a little nearer. Later in the
evening, when the music came up from the
band quarters, everyone came to the house
of the commanding officer to dance.
With a garrisom full of perfectly health
ful people with arteterminationlo be merry,
notwithstanding the isolated life and.utterly
dreary surroundings, the holidays were
made something to look forward to the
whole year ronnd.
Elizabeth Bacon Custeb.
AIL UNANIMOUS!,! APPE07ED. .
Amusing; Replies of Experts and Epicures to
An epicure, who was also an ardent
sportsman, wss asked suddenly to name the
best fish; He was greatly embarrassed, he
says. He thought of the delicious smelt,
of the salmon, of the shad, of the Spanish
mackerel, and the more he thought the
more impossible became the decision. Then
all at once the word came to him, and
he answered, "Gentlemen, I think the best
fish is a fresh fish."
This reply was almost as happy as one
given by a famous negro cook in Richmond.
A company of diners-out got into a warm
discussion as to which bird should be pro
nounced the finest for the table. Some
favored the woodcock; others set the canvas
back duck at the head; a Philadelphia man
stood up for the reed bird; a Western man
talked about the grouse and the pheasant,
undone or two would have it that none of
these were, equal to the grass plover.
Finally it was agreed to leave the question
to the xookJrTK hesitated; looked tronrone
man to another, and scratched his head.
Then he delivered himself thus:
"Oemmen, 'pears tome dat de best bird
am the American eagle, nicely spread out
on a ailvah dollah.-"
His verdict was approved and he got the
THE ANT AS A FIGHTER.
Tho Little Insect Remarkable for Its
Prof. Jlorso In Globe Democrat.)
Ants are terrible fighters. They have very
powerful jaws, considering the size of their
bodies, andjtherefore their method of fight
ing is by biting. They will bite one another
and hold on with a wonderful grip of the
jaws, even after all their legs have been
bitten off by other ants. Sometimes six or
eight ants will be clinging with a death grip
to one another, making a peculiar spectacle,
some with a leg gone and some with half the
body gone. One singular fact is that the
grip of an ant's jaw is retained even after
the body has been bitten off and nothing but
the head remains. This knowledge is pos
sessed by a certain tribeof Indians in Brazil,
Sonth America, who put the ants to a very
When an Indian gets a gash cut in his
hand, instead of having the flesh sewed to
gether as the physicians do in this country,
he procures five or six large black ants, and,
holding their heads near the gash, they
bring their jaws together in biting the flesh,
and thus pull the two sides of the gash to
gether. Then the Indian pinches off the
bodies of the ants and leaves their heads
clinging to the flesh, which is held together
until the gash is perfectly healed.
TEIING TO C00E SNOW.
A Chinaman Mnch Surprised Because the
Staff Molted A way.
A little California girl, finding snow in
the piazza corners one morning, and suppos
ing it to be a-new sort of flour, made up
several "patty cakes," and gravely took
them into the kitchen to cook them.
She put them on top of the range at the
back, and went out at once for- more
"dough." When she returned, her mother's
Chinese cook stood by the range with a
broad grin on his usually stolid face.
"O Sam, did you go and eat my cookies?"
"Eire eatee Lily's cooky," answered the
Alter the little girl's mother had been
called, and had explained the mystery, Sam
told how he also had once been deceived as
to the nature of snow.
Sam had been a laundryman in San Fran
cisco when he first came to America, and it
was quite natural that he should apply the
unknown substance to the uses of his trade.
"Me no findee snow & China, all samee
here," he said. "Me findee heap snow down
Sin E'an'sco one day. Me catchre pan fall,
all samee starch! Hot water! Starch all
gone, all samee Lily's cooky."
A Gory Mishap.
Mrs. Meserve I'm sure I heard a pistol
shot, and (as her husband appears) heM-lp !
mur-r-rderf (partiallr taints.)
rwas trying your new tomato ketchup, and
a bottle burst ia say face. Judge.
The Lights and Shadows That Fell on the Manu
scripts of Three Sermons.
-WRITTEN FOR "THE
REV. T. DeWITT TALMAGE and MARION WHIE.
The ethical portions of this story, as expressed by 'James Pardee," are contributed to the
work by Br. Talmage. The plot and narrative are by Mrs. White.
8TOEH AT HOME AND AT SEA.
Y name isPardee.with
a James before it, and
aBev. before that, and
a B. D. -at the end of
all. That is to say, I am a clergyman; and
I have a pastorate out in Minnesota, where
I do my chosen work far away from my old
friends, but among plenty of new ones, and
so am not a complainant against my for
tune. Indeed, it is not about myself, ex
cept incidentally that 1 have taken my pen
in hand to write.
Let me begin by setting the fact down
that I can never pass a Christmas without
thinking of the experiences which accom
panied my preparation of three Christmas
sermons. It came about through acci
dentally meeting Arthur Hawsley in
Broadway, while I was on a visit to New
York. I had gone East to be lazy during
the holidays at the end- of 1881, and was
making a leisurely round of book stores,
picture galleries and art tiiuseums, when I
encountered my old friend.
Arthur Hawsley and I had not met since
quitting college. He was married, he said,
and after we had exchanged the facts of our
personal history, he took me by the arm,
saying: "Now, I shan't let you off! You
must come and take your dinner with us."
"But Mrs. Hawsley?" Idemurred.
"Louise?" he responded; "she will be
charmed. An old friend like you my best
friend! She will be delighted to -see you. Be
tide, I will make it a matter of duty, I? live
My First Christmas Dinner With the Havaleyu
beyond the Harlem river in a little suburban
village, where there is a church o! your
denomination. The pastor is ill. The con
gregation is threatened with the lack of
sermon on Christmas Day. You shall come
and preach it."
"I consent," I replied, "and I believe I
will preach on the sin of laziness, x have
felt ashamed of myself for lolling about
New York for a week. I am as afraid of
indolence as any reformed inebriate is afraid
of the wine cup. He knows if he shall take
one glass he-will be flung back into in
ebriaoy. And I am afraid if I should take
one loug pull of nothing to do I would stop
forever. So I will preach for your folks, if
thev wish it; and J will ten tnem mat notn
ing is accomplished withont work, hard
work, continuous work, all-absorbing work,
evnrlnstin? work. Domitian. the Boman
Emperor, for one hour every day caught
flies and killed them with his penknife;
and there are people with imperial oppor
tunity who set themselves to some insignifi
cant business. Ob, for something grand to
do, and then concentrate all your energies
ot body, mina ana soui upon luatuut iumj,
ana notmng in
earth or hell can stand be-
fore you. There is no such thing as good
"I would like to talk with you about
that," Arthur said; "about working with a
purpose. So come right along home with
Little Mrs. Arthur Hawsley was a pretty
bride and housewife, in the cozy home
wherein I was introduced to her by my
friend yes.-very pretty, with her bie, wide
open eyes, her fresh color, the dimple in her
right cheek when she smiled, and the fluffy
blonde hair hanging almost over her eyes.
When we three were seated about the table
in the bright, cozy dining room, with its
cheerful fire burning on the hearth, I felt
like ejaculating, "Oh, the luck of Arthur
Hawsley!" in spite or what I had remarked
to him about there being no such thing as
luck. The place seemed a domestic paradise.
We are seated at table; outside the rain is
pouring down in torrents; from the street
can be heard harried footsteps, acd the
rattling of vehicles over the stones. We ore
exhilarated by the feeling of comfort in such
contrast with the dreary weather without
The dinner, too, is delicious. The servant
has just brought on some little birds, nicely
browned, dripping with juice, and altogether
exquisite to look upon.
"Oh, how nice 1" says little Mrs. Haws
"Pardon, my dearest," returned her hus
band; "these are not quails, but squabs."
"Oh, but, my dear, I am quite sure "
"No, darling, they ore squabs 1"
"Quail I" ?
So it went on. Ah, lire. Hawsley, if you
had only foreseen this moment I A quarrel
within six months of the wedding day!
She cried as if her heart would break. I
can yet hear her despairing sobs. And
what a silence, there was otherwise in the
room J I sat dumfounded in my place. I
wanted to say something to act as peace
maker, bnt I couldn't think of the right
words to say. Not much of the unfortunate
birds was eaten, and the meal was finished
Sir, I Claim You as My Witness.
rather lugubriously. It seemed to me that,
if I was to prepare a Christmas sermon in
that house, the theme at hand wonld h mn.
After quitting the table Arthur and I
went to his library, where we were soon
talking reminiscently, as old friends are apt
to on meeting after a'long separation.
"You have been abroad, then?" I re
marked, after he had mentioned something
that he had seen in a museum, at Cairo.
"Oh, yes." he replied. "I have become
an EgyptolngW-a.Terlttthl crank on the
subject and you will be interested in my
The storm had increased, and a Tin-wllntr
gust of wind made Arthur shiver, although
the room was warm enough.
"0, it isn't this storm that shakes me," he
explained; "it is the recollection of one that
our ship encountered. We hadhad a fair voy
age, but as we approached the Gulf of Coron
the sky becan to darken. Squalls aro fre
quent at this point of Greece, where the cur
rents from three seas meet, broken by the in
tervening promonotories of Morea. This
evening the current from the Cerigo Chan
nel was running dead against us. Niriit
was falling, and the water was gray and
angry, the sky opaque and sullen. On our
land aide the high masses of Tavgetus shut
off the horizon with their black' wall; from
the side toward Egypt the wind and the sea
were breaking against us with a fierce roar
The sea grew rougher, and we were assailed
by a squall of wind from the northeast.
The channel was as black as ink,
and the uneven gusts knocked the shin
to and fro so that it was hard for her to keep
on her way. One by one the captain
shortened the sails, keeping only the smaller
ones. As we rounded the cape, in order to
avoid the reefs we had to make a consider
able angle with the wind, which was grow
ing stronger every minute. At the first turn
of the tiller two heavy waves swept the deck.
The boat reeled like a drunken man and
leaned over so far that the starboard rail
almost touched the water. The captain saw
that he must take be more sail, and he
shouted his orders to the quartermaster, who
signaled them to the men. When the com
mand had been given no one stirred. It was
necessary to climb to the top gallants, that
is, to climb along a sail yard which was at
that moment describiog an arc of almost 90.
A second time the whistle sounded. The
men seemed nailed to the deck. The cap
tain's anger rose, and he spranz toward
them and cried: "You are fine sailors to be
a'raid to go aloft."
At this point in Hawsley's narrative a
tap at the library door interrupted him;
and in response to his ''Come in!" a map
entered. If I were to 1 ive a thousand years,
I should never forget his face. He was
about CO, tall and muscular, with what
people call a square head. His eyebrows
met on his forehead in a straight line, "his
face was smooth, and his hair was shaggy
and red. He was the incarnation of ob
stinacy and brutal insensibility, if his face
did not misrepresent his character.
"This is Josiah Burabam," said my
friend, by way of introduction; and he added
in a low tone to me: "He is a gardener, and
be taKes care oi our little place here."
Then he raised his voice. "I had begun to
tell Mr. Pardee of the loss of Martin's life."
"Well, don't let rae stop you," Josiah
gruffly responded; "I wouldn't mind hear
ing it again myself," and he stood slouch
ing by the door. t
"Martin Jeffries was the stepson ot
Josiah," Hawsley went on. "He had been
a sailor, but latterly had settled down here
as a gardener with his stepfather. He was
a firm, stalwart young fellow, and if he
were alive would be the husband of the girl
of his choice. He had saved up (1,000, by
thrift and industry, and in a year more in
tended to set himself up in business. His
mother was the custodian of his savings.
He gave the money to her, dollar by dollar,
and she depositee! it in a bank as her own.
Well, when I planned my trip to Ezypt, in
quest of intiquitiCT, I needed a stout, bandy
assistant, ana Martin wasglad to go. He
proved a valuable aid in getting and pack
ing my 'finds,' and he was returning with
me when our ship salted into the storm that
I was describing. The captain called ont.
I as I said before, You are fine sailors to be
afraid to go aloft.'"
"Then the ex-sailor, Martin Jeffries,
started for the rope ladder."
"I'll go, Captain," the volunteer said.
"Then, grasping the ropes with his power
ful hands, he began to make his way slowly
op the l.tdder, which the wind shook and
rattled against the rigging. We watched
him mount. The wind which swelled ont
his jacket like a vail, caught him every few
moments and flattened him against the lad
der! When he reached the top of the mast
the darkness was so dense that we could so
longer see hiss. We saw only his shadow
passing la iront ot the looKout lantern. An
instant later, as the captain tarnedaway to
give ah order, his voice was drowned by the
crash of a piece of wood, followed after art
interval of two or three seconds by the dull
splash of a body falling; into the water.
" 'Man overboard 1' was the err.
"The captain ordered a boat to be lowered.
The sailors rushed toward ft, but it had not
been let down more than a fewfeet when the)
wind seized it, tore, it from their hands, and
dashed it to splinters against the side of the?
ship. Meanwhile, the vessel in obedience
to the tiller, turned about and presented it
self diagonally to the wind. The sails
abruptly fell along the masts, and we were
left to the mercy of the mind rfnd waves
Deceived by a Dead Man.
Poor Martin was clinging to a piece of th
boat and rolled about by the waves."
Josiah Burnham was listening as eagerly
to Hawley's acccount, as though he had not
heard it a dozen times before, but his faea
was so strangely devoid of sympathy for his
stepson that, at the time, I could not imagine
that the adventure had proved serious.
"I demanded that an effort be made to
rescue Martin," Hawley continued. "The
captain shouted quickly to the officers and
sailors: 'Can we try to save this man?
Those who agree to it raise their hands; and
be quick!' We stood under one of the lan
terns, and the sailors were grouped about us
waiting for the supreme decision. I declare)
to yon, if it had been broad daylight oue
would have seen that these old seadogs were
as pile as any seasick girl. They gave one
rapid glance 'toward the horizon, the direc
tion of the waves, the dark line of coast be
yond. The ship was headed straight for the
rocks. Each man shook his head, but no
one raised a hand. Then the captain spoke
V the crew:
" 'Upon our consciences, weall declare that
we can do nothing to save that man. God
have mercy upon him.' Then, turning; to
the helmsman, he cried: 'Starboard, and
"The ship turned again, offering her sails
to the howling wind. She leaped over the
waves like an arrow. I ran to the stern, un
fastened a lantern and held it far out over
the water. Eive or six fathoms away Mar
tin was dancing about among the waves,
which at times held him almost upright.
When he saw me in the light of the lantern,
he stretched out one hand toward me and
his lips moved as if to speak. I leaned to
ward him with my hand to my ear, to hear
the last words of toe poor fellow. They came
to me clear and strong above the roar of the
" 'Tell mother to give my money to Maryl'
"An enormous wave came along, leveled
the surface ot the sea, and I saw nothing but
the deep furrow of the vessel as she ran from,
the jaws of death."
Hawsley stopped and turned his face ia'
harsh reproach upon Josiah Burnham.
"And Mary?" I questioned.
"She was the girl who was to have be
come Martin's wife," was the reply, "and -his.direction
about the money was as sacred ,:
as any formal will that ever was signed and
sealed. Yet it was legally worthless, be
cause the money was technically the proper
ty of his mother."
"And she would not obey his wish?"
"She died before there was time to make
the transfer, and Josiah Burnham the ob
durate man standing there inherited from
her, and keeps it from the girl to whom it
rightfully belongs. I have told him time
and again what I think ot it. Won't you,
Mr. Pardee, say something to him."
For" a moment I was hesitant, and then I'
said: "Mr. Burnhampa life of mere money-,
getting is always a failure, because yon.
will never get as much as you want. The
poorest people in this country are the
millionaires, and next to them .those who
have hair a million. There is notascissor
grinder ou the streets of New York that is
so anxious to make money as these men who
have piled up fortunes year after year ia
storehouses, in government securities, ia
tenement bouses, in whole city blocks. Ton
ought to see them jump when they hear the
fire-bell ring. You ought to see them ia
their excitement when a bank axplodes.
You Murdered Your Wifel
You onght to see their agitation when there
is a proposed reformation in the tariff.
Their nerves tremble like harp-strings, but
there is no music in the vibration. They
reaa ine reports irom wail street in ins
morning with a concernment that
threatens paralysis or apoplexy, or, mora"'
prooaoiy, they have a telegraph orattle-
phone in their own house, so they eaten
every breath of change in the money-market.
The disease of acoumnlation has
eaten into then eaten into their heart, into
their lungs.into their spleen. into their liver.
into their bones. Chemists have sometimes
analyzed the human body, and they say it is '
so much magnesia, so much lime, so much
chlorate of potassium. If some Christian
chemist would analyze one of thse financial
behemoths he would find he is made up of
copper, and gold and silver, and zinc,, and
lead, and coal, and iron. That's no', a life"t
worth living. There are too many earth3i
quases in it, too many agonies in it, too);
many perditions in it." 1
There wss the theme upon which I com-S
posed mucbot my Christmas sermon, and.Xfj
ii.vum a. nihil pUU ilUUUU UCUflCafrV
wuuej ia jay mino.
a 8TOBT or arAianroinr;
A year rolled around, and again I was sj
guest at the borne of my friend Arthur
Hawsley. He had written with mncstj
sociable urgency, and had added the flatler-j
ing argument that the congregation gxeatlyj
desired to hear another Christmas sermon?
rom me. it bsd happened that X couldj
withouttrouble absent myself from my ownfl
pulpit, and so I was once more at ths Hi.Ji1
Jer table & week before a Christmas fdaVA.
T.ittlji AfV. TT...1.... w31U U 'J? W .
" ... An.j, nihil tuo larac aispitt
iJ . 4 --.-.