THE PITTSBURG DISPATCH, SUNDAY, APEIL 13. 1890. 15 By WIRE, Edison is Perfecting a Most Curious Invention CALLED THE KINTOGRAPH. One May See Patti While He Hears Her in the Phonograph GREAT PROBLEMS IN ELECTRICITY ItriCIAI. CORRESrONDEJTCE OP THE DISPATCH.' New Yoke, April 12. Edison is about to astonish the world with a new invention more wonderful than the phonograph. I found him yesterday at his laboratory in Orange, the same unpretentious, enthusiastic man he was 20 years aco. He calls his latest invention the kintograph. "When it is completed, and Edison is perfectly con vinced that its perfection is now merely a auestion of detail and experiment, it will be possible not only to hear the voice of a person coming from the phonograph, but to see the person's face just as it was at the time the words were spoken, with every change of expression, the movement of the lips, the eyes, etc. If it is a reproduction of a scene upon the stage, the picture will be seen, the actors moving about and making the proper gestures as they speak. In the case of the head of a prson talking to you from the phonograph it will be life sire if necessary. The mechanism hy which this is accomplished is extremely simple, and the thing has been made possible by the discovery ot the instantaneous process of photography, by which animals in motion or a cannon ball flying through the air have been photographed. Suppose that Edison wishes to reproduce the lace or a man as he says, "How do you do?" through the phonogiaph. If the time required lor saying "How do you do" is two seconds, an apparatus is arranged by which no less than 20 photographs can be taken at equal intervals during those two seconds. Sow, if these 20 photographs, which cover the whole space of time, at intervals of a tenth of a second each, are placed upon a wheel, side by side along the rim, and this wheel is made 'to revolve in Iront of a small looting glass, the result in the looking glass is a man's tace as he says "How do you do?" PKIXCIPLE OF THE KIXTOGRAPH. The principle is the same as in the chil dren's toys, in which a number of pictures, each slightly different, are revolved in iront of the mirror, the result being an animal or person in apparent motion. To make mo tions of the face or of the persons in the picture exactly coincide with the talc of the phonograuh is of course merely a ques tion of nice adjustment. Anion? the curiosities at the laboratory I saw a large sheet ten feet square, upon which, by means of magic lantern, experi ments were carried out every night in pic turing a man making a speech. First the man makes his speech, the phonograph tak ing down his words, and the photograph making the pictures of him at intervals ot one-tenth of a second. Then the resnlt is thrown upon this sheet by means of a magic lantern, and the man, lite-size, repeats in the picture his perlormance. The results are already so wonderlul that I do not see bow any one can donbt that the perfection ing of the invention is merely a matter of detail. PEEFECTIXG THE PHONOGRAPH. To come back to the phonograph for a few words, since this wonder was civen to the public for practical use, less than a vear ago, nearly 2,000 have been puMnto offices in this city and neighborhood, and while there has been a certain amount of trouble in using them, partly owing to the delicacy of the apparatus, there has been a steady ad vance in their favor, and recent improve ments have further simplified matters. "Within the last six weeks Mr. Edison has succeeded in doing away with all necessity of fine adjustment, and ihe machine is ready for work almost without touching; anyone who can manipulate a typewriter or a "tele phone can manage a phonograph. In the machine of a year ago it was neces sary to have two diaphragms, one for taking down talk and another for giving it oat; now there is but one. "Water motors are now also used in many offices in place of elec tricity for running the apparatus, at a great savingof money. The power needed isso small that the cost Tor water to run a phonograph six hours a day is not estimated at more than 53 a year. EXTBACinfG IRON ORE. "Within the last two years Edison has been Very busy with his process for extracting iron from ore which is not rich enough to pay for working by the ordinary smelting process. This low grade ore, containing about 25 percent of iron, is to be found irl man- places in Jersey and in Pennsylvania, in immense quantities, and could be bought for almost nothing. Edison devised a sys tem for separating the iron by magnetism, and finds that there is a large profit in the operation. The company which he organized for the working of his idea at first tried to get iron lrom sea sand, the black sand Irom all along the Long Island coast, but the deposits of such sana were not large enough in any one place to pay lor the erection, of extensive works. So attention was turned to mines that were known to contain vast quantities of such ore requiring simply to be crushed jjd then separated. Edison lound at Ojdeu In New Jersev. some 50 miles from New York, oa the shore of Lake Hopatcoiig, a deposit of such ore sufficient to supply all the bli-st furnaces of the United States lor the next 50 years. DOX'T TRUST TO TAIENTS. He has always been afraid of patents, al though he told me yesterday that he had taken out more than 600f them in the last 30 years. His patented inventions have, however, been so persisteutlv infringed upon, putting him to vast expense for liti gation, that he tries, if possible, to do with out patents, and his present course is to buy ii u j . t- .i . . I New Jersey and Pennsylvania before taking out patents upon the process. People can ininnge as tnucn as they want to it he has all the ore that can be used, and. as he says there is enough of it to last half a century. ' With one of the problems upon which the great inventor has been busy for several years, Edison confesses that he has as yet made no progress worth speaking about, and naturally that is oue of the things which he has most at heart. I mean the proposed ap paratus for generating an electric current direct from heat Scientists contend that heat, light, electricitv and power are all the same thing under different lorms. At pres ent, in order to get electricity out of heat, it is necessary to transform the heat first into power. A EOtJNDABOUT PROCESS. The coal is burned under the boiler, giv ing heat, the boiler gives us power with which to run tbe dynamo, and the dynamo transforms power into electricity. For the last ten years inventors have been working at some process lor developing an electric current directly from heat. Edison has de vised an apparatus which when placed upon tbe kitchen stove will give out a little cur rent of electricity, but not enough for any serviceable purpose. He says himself that the difficulties in the way of success are enormous. He can get so far and then he seems to run against insurmountable ob stacles. "I take up the idea," said he yesterday, "and work away at it with renewed ardor, geltingjust solar as I got last time. The prospect is magnificent, lor the man who discovers the secret will give mankind the greatest and cheapest power we can con ceive, a thousand times more serviceable SEEING than steam. But at a certain point in my experiment I apparently run against a stone wall, around which 1 cannot get and which offers no loophole that I can see. The same thing happens with me about once a month. IT WILL NOT DOWN. "The problem haunts me night and day and I get back to it; I get just so far and then I run into my stone wall, and after bumpingjmy head against it until I have a headache I drop the thing lor two weeks, when the tremedous possibilities in it, and the certainty that the thing can be done, bring me back to it. Of all the problems in science I know of, this is the most interest ing. It will be a discovery of more value than anything we have now, and I do not give up hopes of getting at it." Edison also carries a note book devoted to this problem, and one for whatever may occur to bim in tbe electric light field. At the laboratory 1 saw yesterday some hun dreds of glow lamps burning night and day, each one numbered and possessing some slight peculiarity. A number of men do nothing but watch these lamps, recording their behavior, and the result of such tests are of use in guiding the manufacturers. The Edison lamps are now made in Newark at the rate of some 20,000 a day. When Edison first put his lamps into use, they lasted abot 500 hours, and required about one-horse power for every ten lamps. In these last 12 years theyjbave been so much perfected that the lamps cost about half to make, they last twice as long, and they require only one-horse power for every 15 lamps. ME LABORATORY HIS JtECREATION. One of the most peculiar things about Edison, and yet one which everyone will undeistand, is that what he has achieved in the way ot discoverv and invention seems to spur him on to still greater things. The fact that he has had honors and wealth heaped upon him within the last 15 years in an extraordinary fashion, do not seem to teach him the necessity of rest and recrea tion. I remember years ago bis saying to me once that when be got rich he should not buy a yacht, or a fast horse, but he would build the most perfect laboratory in the world and make the talking machine a success. He knew it could be done, and al though scientific men said it was an impos sibility, he kuew better. All this he has done. He has invented the quadruplex telegraph and the phono graph, both genuine discoveries; he has per fected the electric light and made it practi cable. And it mighUbe thought that he was entitled to spend the rest of his time in enjoying the fruits of his labors. So he is, and he does enjoy himself. After a 7 o'clock breaklast, taken with one eye on his labora tory down in the valley, he rnshes to his be loved workshops, and that is the last his splendid home sees of him before dark. - THE FUTURE OF ELECTRICITT. He said to me recently that we ought to be ashamed of ourselves in this country if, by the year 1950, we have not got a dozen in ventions each one more wonderful than the telegraph, the steam engine or the electric light. This may seem an extraordinary position to take, and yet from Edison's standpoint it is not so. The next generation alter ours ought to do far more wdnderful things than we have done, simply because people will have not only more education and intelligence than we. have, but they will have wonderful tools to work with, of which our lathers knew nothing. They will have the steam engine, the dynamo, electricity, the telegraph, the phonograph, the photo graph, and a host of other beautiful toois with which wonders ought to be accom plished. Moreover, in every field of science the spread of literature, newspapers and books will make students in every part of the world, and from this vast army of inventors ought to come marvels every year. The cen tury drawing to a close has done wonders, but the next one ought to do still more. PERSONALITY OF THE MAN. A peculiarity which strikes one at once is Edison's unwillingness to talk about things that have been accomplished and are suc cessful. Thus, although the electric light cost him eight or ten years of the hardest work of his life, it is hard to get him to speak about it. It is all right, he says, and he will plunge at once into some other in vention that is not yet all right. Edison is a count, a millionaire and the' most famous living inventor. His present wealth, which nmounts to many millions, is as nothing compared to what it will be in the next tew years; but he still works away in his laboratory, and conies forward to greet you in just such a "suit of clothes as he wore 20 years ago. The laboratory is the finest in the world, and the immense library with galleries around all sides, four stories high, is filied with costly furniture, scien tific apparatus and workd of art. THEN AND KOT. As compared with Edison's dingy little shop of 20 years ago, out at Menlo Park, in which he used to eat his bread and cheese seated on an old packing box, talking over the work in hand with his two or three workmen, the present surroundings are fabulously luxurious. Everything shows unbounded means, which may be the case when we remember that this famous labora tory cost about $200,000 a rear to maintain. But the master miud is still the same. When he works it means work for his men. In the old days at Menlo Prk it was no uncommon thing for him to remain at the bench for 48 hours at a stretch, sending one of the boys for crackers and cheese when he felt hungry, and not giving up until his assistants actually fell asleep standing up. To-day hejs just as interested, but he teels that there is no reason for risk ing health when be has more reputation and money than he knows what to do with. . H. H. H. PECULIAR TO THE SEASON. One of the Crnzei That U Snre to Dovelop In the Sprinc Time. One of the pecnliar phases of this season is the cr.ize that develops with unfailing regularity for having photographs taken. It is not confined to any -class or age, but af fects people in every circle to such an ex tent that sitting lor pictures becomes almost epidemic The time was, hefore the days of natural gas, when a visit to a photogra pher's was a matter that required as much planning as would be given now to a con templated trip to Europe. The dark skies made by Pittsburg smoke, the limited ap paratus in use, and the incomplete knowl edge possessed by so many of the older op erators, made photography a "guess work" affair, with one chance oi getting it to fire chances ol misting. xui mat is cuauxeu. -jriitsuurg SKies are Hut that is changed. .Pittsburg skies are of America, and Pittsburg photographers are the leaders in what is now an art, and are lound from ocean to ocean. Among the men who have Jed in the advance movem-nt the one to whom the greatest credit is due is James R. Pearson. Believing that photog raphy was an "art" instead of a "trade," Jlr. Pearson devoted time and money in its study, and invested heavily in the new inventions that would enable him to best apply bis knowledge. The result was seen in tbe great business he has built up. His galleries, at 96 Filth avenue, tbe most commodious in tbe city, could not accommodate the throngs that sought him and he was compelled to open another studio at Nos. 43 and 45 Federal street, Al legheny, to accommodate his patrons on tbe Northside. Both of these plaaes are under his personal supervision, and from each only the best of nork is turned out. The most skilled men that-could be found are en gaged to do the work, in some cases it being necessary to send to the East for them, and all they do is under the direction of the trained head of the establishments. The fine weather of the past few days has filled the Pearson studios with old and new customers. The oue great rule of the house not to let a photograph go out that does not give perfect satisfaction has pleased tbe people in the past and will be strictly adhered to in the future. If you want a photograph of yourself, your wile or your baby go to one of Pearson's galleries, No. 96 Filth avenue, Pittsburg, or Nos. 43 and 45 Federal street, Allegheny. You will be glad after you get the picture. Lucerne awnings at Matnaux & Son', 539 Penu are., Pittsburg Pa. NYE UPON THE SLOPE. March Loses All of lis Lions Before it Gets to California. TROUBLES OP A LADY DRUMMER. Unhappinesj Dealt Oat by Ruthless lien to a Wealthv foreigner. BAILK0AI) AND TELEGRAPH BEFQEM rWBlTTKI FOB IHE DISPATCH. 1 California has a rainy season, which takes the place of winter, and has some rain left for other purposes. Last winter it rained and did other things for five months, but on the day that I burst upon the coast like a long legged benison from a clear sky, the sun came forth from his long M seclusion and lit up the grand old main the ocean main, I mean, not mine. Then the timid songster caroledt o his mate in low, passionate tones, the gay orange poppies began to give gor geous coloring to the green billows of field and prairie, and a thousand bright and beau tilul wild flowers garnished tbe great Amer ican vineyard, orchard and conservatory. Ton always hear a great deal of California before yiu see it, because the Calilornian is so infatuated with his State that he cheer fully gets up in the night to brag about her, and yet, somehow, when you see the real State, you are not disappointed. A great many people go to California, but few re turn. This is because the majority do so well they do not care to return, and the bal ance do so poorly that they cannot get home again. THE PARIS OF AMERICA. San Francisco is the American Paris, and seemed to me almost like getting home again. It is the abode of wealth and re finement. The newspapers of San Fran- She Was the Drummer. cisco have done much to bring wealth to the coast. They have done more than the rail roads in that way. The latter have brought a good deal ot money to California, of course, but have forgotten to divide after it got there. Times are said to be dull in California at the present time. I must say that I did not see any evidences of it, though traveling over the State for some time constantly. Certainly there seems to be very little suf fering on Nob Hill, and in fact times are good, I know, among our set. With the common people and tradesmen of course I conld not say positively, but I am told that the suffering is greatly exaggerated by en emies of the coast. I rode out on the bay clear into the open Pacific in The Examiner's steam launch. It is a beautilul and swift little cralt which Mr. Hearst and his staff use while recover ing from brain fag. When weary ot the hurrv and turmoil of opinion moldin?. and the thought ganglia begins to sag and the intellectual joints to wabble, and thought itself becomes a burden to the teeming brain, they hitch up the yacht, and allowing the trade wind to meander through their late whiskers, tliev smell the salt sea air and the seal rocks and the wood violets, and in an hour the world again looks invit ing; the .odor of printer's ink and hot machine oil and political records can again be endured cheerfully and even hilariously, and all is well. I wish that the steam yacht could become more general among news paper men, and hope to see it adopted soon throughout the country in place of the buck saw and other outdoor sports. MARCH HAS HER TUSHES DRAWN. The bay is too well known (o my readers to need a description. At this season of the year it is a glassy stretch of quiet water at the feet of green and velvety'hills. Later on'the grass gets brown, and so the effect is not so good. As it is now, there are few flies upon the bay. For the first time I have found a desirable place to lire in dur ing March. March everywhere else points to itself with pardonable pride as the cham pion in the bete noire business. It is the meanest month on the calendar. It is a month that is replete with suicide and the smell ot hot soap. The screaming winds carry everywhere the odor of burning arctics in the Iront yard and go searching with sinister eye .and stealthy tread for the man who bis in an ungarded moment shed his winter yagers. In California March has her tushes drawn by the soft air from a gen tle oceanic current, the weather bureau drops her a tender little isothermal line or two. and the robins nest again, the clouds roll by and tbe spring time has come, gentle Annie. Before I forget it I must allude here to a little sensation which has not yet been printed, and as the public will occasionally read a sensation, ifiruthfu, I beg leave to give it here. I will not use names, because they are not necessary. A sad-faced man, with a little vox humana and tbe tremolo pulled out on his voice, came to the desk of the hotel as I was registering and said in a low voice that unless things were reformed there h6 would go away. "I am not particu lar," he sald,("as a general thing, but I've about decided that this thing has gone far enough." TROUBLE FOR THE LADY. The landlord asked him what was the trouble. He said that he had heard the voice of a lady in the room ofa drummer several times. The landlord investigated it, pounded on the door, and made a good deal of trouble, but found that it was the lady's own room. Then he tackled tbe sad man, and he said it might be the lady's room, but that if they would search it they would also find the drummer. Much ex citement was excited and money rapidly changed hands. Curious faces of both sexes were seen protruding from various doors all along down tbe hall. Finally a stern man from St. Louis said this thing bad gone far enough and that be knew tbe lady in ques tion, and that while the charge was sub stantially correct it ought to be explained a little. The lady herselt was the drummer. The man with tbe tremolo in his voice then paid his" bill ont of the landlord's money, took several deep draughts at the bar at the landlord's expense, and hurried down to the depot to pay his excess baggage bill, also with the landlord's money. I be lieve that there are three women acting ai traveling men now, and this was one of them. The coast is beginning to feel an interest in the World's Fair and will do its share handsomely in the way of a display. A general hope is expressed that America will not sacrifice beauty and worth to blow and advertising. Art become: no longer art when it i obscured by the price mark, and AhwJ qny mE&tm 7 W&YT7 f'fif f I1 it becomes a reading THE ADVERTISING TENDENCY. In a certain city a few years ago a beauti ful monument was built to the memory of the boys who lost their lives in the war for the Union. The inscription read: ; Erected in memory of the Bravo Men who : : laid down their lives for the Union, as a : : mark of love and lasting esteem, by their : : fellow pvtrlots and loving friends, at a : : cost of 8150,000. j After a long, severe argument, however, wiser counsels prevailed, and the price was stricken out The trans-Missouri country will enthusiastically go in for a good show ing, anu will also attend the fair prepared to figuratively knock out the eye and gather in the Etruscan pelts of the great nations of the earth. California, among other salient features, is the proud possessor of what is called an average rainfall. Every child even knows what it is now, what it was in '79 and as far back as history extends. Fourteen to 16 inches will do the business in agricultural districts very well, but this year it has been from 40 to 110 inches, according to the local ity. The Santa Clara valley has wetness enough to last for four vears. and vet only in low parts of the country will crops be de layed or injured by the great rainfall. RAILROADS AND TELEGRAPHS. I asked a well-known railroad man the other day what he thought would be the general effect on business if the Govern ment should take charge of the railroads and telegraphs. He said he thought it would be anything but soothing. "In such on event," said he, "business would be sub verted to politics, I think. On election day trains would be delayed and voted in the doubtful States. Washouts would give large party gains to the ruling powers. Tele grams would be affected more or less in the rapidity of their flight by their political tenor, and the administration organ would be able to get Sundav trains for its mam moth editions, while the opposition paper would run off the track or be held for orders. We can get nil the corruption we need, I think, without extending its scope or possibilities, I wonld hate to see a Hester street heeler rcwanled by being made a government train dispatcher on my road. You can educate a postmaster pretty well in four years, but you take a green " poli tician and try to make a train dispatcher or a division superintendent out of him and vun are liable to be bitterly disappointed in him." We had last weet on the train a style of passenger common to this free country, He was a foreigner by birth and had made some money in this "country by a happy accident in the price of rags or the sud den advance in old clothes. Doubtless in his old home across the ocean he had slept at night on a heap of straw and eaten the brunette bread of tbe plain people. SLIGHTLY OUT OF PLACE. Here he had made money under the fos tering care of our free institutions and rode in a sleeping car. "Vulgarity had early marked him for for its own, and so, even with a silk hat and an overcoat with a fnr collar on it, one could see that he would be more at home sleeping in the loft of a livery stable with his whiskers full of barley straw. He lound fault with everything, and in half an hour had won his way to the hearty and cordial hatred of everyone in tbe car. He asked me what I paid for my berth to San Francisco. I told him, butl told him $2 less than the price because he was well calcu lated to call forth that kind of an answer. He was wild. He wanted to jump off the train and go back to the office to get his $2 back. I then posted the other pasengers,and they came and pitied him till he frothed at the mouth. People told him that the com pany must have a prejudice against him for something. Everyone pitied him and felt sorry for him. Finally we got to working the same thing on him in other directions. FINALLY TEARS CAME. We would ask him what he paid for his dinner and his other meals. Then we would find out that bad been robbed again. We would buy fruit from the train boy, accord ing to a prefious arrangement with him, at a- price at least CO per cent below what he could get the same goods for. Then we Hould go over and feel sorry for him, and ass: him if he had ever been suspected of be ing a Nihilist or of belonging to some other denomination that was unpopular that peo ple picked on him so, until finally he got so mad that large scalding tears of vexation ran down over his red beard and tell on the rich tapestry ot the car. His only solace at this time was to turn frequently upon his wife and curse her in corduroy profanity, such as is onlv found in Arctic lands, with fur trimmings on it. He was the meanest old brute I have seen since Mr. Bender dropped out of society, and I was not sorry to help him while away a tedious journey by touching him gently, ever and anon, on the only place where the old pachyderm could be touched without the aid of a bomb, viz., his sensitive little inside pocket. Bill Nye. Amonc His Grnndculldren. J. K. Dodds, editor of tbe daily and weekly Arbor Slate, of Wymore, Neb., says: "I have seen the magic effect of Chamberlain's Cough Remedy in case of croup and colds among my grandchildren. We would not think ot going to bed at night without a bottle of this remedy in the house. Chamberlain's medicines are grow ing more popular here every day." ihsu The Elabi-Hoar Movement. In regard to the eight-hour movement agitated at present, we think it is a good move, as it gives a man eight hours to work, eight hours to sleep and eight hours to se lect from the best line of wall paper in the city at J. J. Fuchs',1710 Carson street, S. S. Cabinet photos 51 per dozen, prompt de livery. Crayons, etc , at low prices. Lies' Gallery, ttsu , 10 and 12 Sixth st See the new styles of Paris Exposition awnings at Maniaux & Sou's, No. 539 Penu ave., Pittsburg, Pa. Iint Excnraloii lo WnnUlnmon City. The B. & O. K. E. will run their last ex cursion to Washington City on Thursday, April 17. Bate, $9, and good to visit Balti more. Limit, ten days. Trains leave 8 A. m. and 920 p. m. Map of Ireland Free, Call or send postal for a small map of Ireland. Max Schamberg & Co., steam ship agents, 527 Smlthfield St., Pittsburg, Pa. . Mrs. A. T. Plunkett announces to her former guests, and to those desiring apart ments and board, that excellent accommoda tions can now be procured at her new resi dence, 326 Penu ave., second door below Fourth street. The place to take your children for fine photographs cheap is at Hendricks Ss Co.'s, 68 Federal street, Allegheny. Good cabi nets, ?1 a dozen. literatnre suffers when notice. We All Pitied Him. TAKING- UPTHE PEN. An Old and Popular Dispatch Writer Heard From Once More. MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD'S DATS. Chicago Has Slim Prospects of Profit From the World's Fair. NEW YORK WILIi GET MOKE BENEFIT CCOItRESFOXDSKCX OP TUB DISPATCH. New York, April 12. Did you ever re visit the scenes of your boyhood after a long absence stretching over years of busy life? If so, didn't you come away feeling you had made a mistake? Don't you think it would have been better to have left things as they were the old and the new unniin gled, the sweet memories undisturbed? The mistake has just been mine. I have but recently returned from a trip which promised and did yield much pleasure, but now that it is over and I resume the thread of my life where I dropped it some two years ago I would in my heart that I had let the past alone. It is disappointing. It is unsatisfactory. It is saddening. And why? Becausetime leaves the scenes and inci dents ot youth engraved upon the memory in idealized lines that becomes softened by sentiment as we grow away from them and practically toned by natural love in the in tervening years. They are fixed and strengthened in us as is the lace and figure of the girl we loved in boyhood. Beturn and dig her up, living or dead, 25 or 30 years later and what becomes of your senti mental picture? Is this the woman with blooming daughters and dirty grandchil dren with a lew old snags instead of the lovely teeth you once delighted to compare to the early corn with the sallow, wilted lace and shriveled lips instead of the bloom ing cheeks and rosy mouth yon once pressed to yours during the romantic days of husk-ing-bees and spelling schools? Would you now long for the red ear that gave you the excuse lor kissing her, or welcome the over turning sleigh that left you scrambling in the snow bank together? Hardly. THE PICTURE DISFIGURED. While you enjoy the hasty talk with her about the old times and crack jokes with her big daughters concerning the days when their "ma" was young you come away un consciously sorry that you ever saw her again. The picture on your memory is worse than destroyed it is disfigured, and you will carry it thus with you always. Had she been dead you might as well have gone out to the old graveyard on the hill and dug her remains up and come away ex pecting to retain only the recollection of her youth and beauty. And here is the one particular friend and chum of your childhood, boyhood, youth and early manhood; one of all tbe other boys you once knew and loved as a brother in that earlier time. He was handsome of person, generous ot nature and altogether lovable. He was closer to you than a brother. He started in life wtfen you did some 45 years ago, your neighbor and play mate, and ran away from home Tvith you in your teens to see the world. He fought by your side 27 years ago through the Civil War and returned to the old home at the close of that strife to finally fade out of your life. Bat you have carried him in your memory of all your early days, because he was part and parcel of you then. You are introduced to a broken-down old man, thin, cadaverous and querulous with a heavily bearded face, half a dozen teeth, one eye and chronic rheumatism. There is actually nothing about him you can recog nize but his voice. (Why is it that the hu man voice outlasts everything else? I re cently met men after 35 years' separation whose voices were so nearly the same as in yonth that I was startled. They had grown stout, most of them, and had scarcely a re semblance of boyhood about them, yet tbe voice at once recalled the boy to me.) When you sit down to chat with him about old times you Cud his memory has been largely replaced by obstinacy, and he open ly accuses you of the same failing. ITS DANGEROU3 GROUND. So you find it with all of tbe early per sonal connections. You meet one suddenly and call bim by his boy nickname; natu rally, because you know him only as a boy. Even those iibout him for years have for gotten it. I saw one to whom I was intro duced, and instantly the old nickname "Whiskv" Bill popped into my mind, and so I called him. He blushed to the roots of his hair under the laugh that followed. He has long been a pillar in his church, and the sobriquet gained in youth by his ability to punish old rye had been forgotten. I shall never forget his glance of indignation. The poison ot the sha.it was better under stood when I was informed that he was still believed to absorb abnormal quanti ties of rum "on the sly." It is unsafe to revive old associations unless you know what you are about. Every now and then you will stab some sore heart by inquiring in a matter of course way of some one recentlv laid beneath the sod. The one reply you will oftenest hear is: "Oh, he's dead years ago." There is something personal in this. You feel that a few years hence some of these fellows will meet some other returning wanderer: "What's become of that fellow that used to live over the Bun long time ago, one of the Murrays newspaper man?" one will ask. ".Murray old u. Li. .aiurray died years ago the boys " "I mean one of his boys, the newspaper man." Consults his watch. "They were all more or less in the news paper business, lather and sons." "I mean the one that went East after the war. "Chailev Murray?" taking a fresh chew. "Yes, Charley the Washington corre spondent." "Oh, he's dead long ago." "Well, well!" musingly. "What time have you?" "Hall past. Yes, Charley's dead, long time ago 'orget the year." "I hadn't heard. Or else I'd forgotten which don't let's go in here." "Mose does keeD bad whisky, for a fact." They will then go to a place around the corner and chuck dice with the assistant barkeeper for the drinks if they lose take beer, winning take milk punches on the house. PLACES CHANGE.TOO. 'What is true of boyhood friends in this case is also true and much worse when we come to boyhood scenes and incidents. You have grown away from places quite as com pletely as you have grown away from per sons. The pictures you have unconsciously treasured up do not fit the scenes. You ex pected to find everything changed, and yet the very changes annoy you. Thev cannot be anticipated in their relation to what is leit of the old. For instance, as you approach vour native town the mind teems more actively with the incidents of early life, and you cast about on either side of the train for all the old landmarks. Pretty soon you will come to an old mill on the bank of the river, just at the end of the railway bridge, where you used to go to mill a bare-'noted boy astride of a larni horse and sack. There should be a cluster of houses across the road from the mill, and a big stretch of smooth water above a roaring dnui and a tangled growth of underbrush amid the broken rocks below. There used to be a carding mill and a sawmill too. In that stretch ol back water ypu used to fish while the grist was being ground. Ab, this is tbe bridge, nowl But the mill not a vestige, not a house, not a dam nothin'I Only a sloping bank of wheat field running down to the water's edge. That is all. And this river, bahl It is impossible! Is this tbe big stream that once floated grandly and mysteriously be tween the tall dead timber and ' rustled under tbe drooping willows sighing to the sea? Are these the dark waters in which we swam and fished and boated, and whose frozen bosoms swelled and quaked and snapped beneath our ringing steel? Why, there isn't enough water in it to feed a canal! Bnt here is a landmark the old graveyard and how broad and fat it has grownl Beneath those stones doubtless lie many of our old playmates, now long for gotten. On the other side as we come into town is tbe Bun. once .- wild, babbling brook, gliding away under the low willows and in whose shallows and limpid depths we fished for shiners, now A BARE-FACED, DIRTY FRAUD, carrying away the sewage from long rows of shops and factories upon its banks, xou repudiate it at sight. And next you resent the removal of the railway station to a point further up, leaving nothing but tbe old water tank to mark where the old planked house stood, about which you used to play. To be sure, the new station is better, bnt it has no interest for you. Aud then, when you get off and look about you there is absolutely nothing familiar in the ap proaches. It is not until you get into the middle of the town before you recognize the place. What is old you now perceive is quite shabby and never could have been much. What is new you care nothing about, except to occasionally sigh that it is there at all. There is the same old public square, modified by a new court house and a new iron fence. You go to the same old hotel, also changed, by wings and balconies without, by electric lights and modern service within. You drive out of town on a familiar road, a road over which you have walked and rid den and drjpen hundreds of times in your youth. How much the ride brings up! Dear, dear! How small and insignificant these old farmhouses you once thought so fine! And how the old (arm on which you were raised has shrunken! You would like to club the man who chopped down the old trees and plowed up the rosebushes and moved the potato patch and pigpens to the front yard. No, vou will not get out It is too disgusting. You are sorry you came to see it, and heartily wish you could have re tained in memory the lovely cottage among the trees, the broad expanse ot shrubs and flowers and level green that encompassed it round ahout. sut you are nice the loousn little boy who pulls his watch to pieces to see how the wheels go 'round. You've done it; but you can't put it together again. You have destroyed that sweet picture of the old home forever. Even the farm itself, with its rolling meadows and green fields, seems to shrink belore yon. Its hills are nothing to speak o', there arc no trees, no stumps to show where trees once stood, no fish pond or stream whereon you used to build mimic boats and sail them, no wood or water in sight where once you remember virgin for ests. A SHORT-SIGHTED PEOPLE. All gone. A single big walnut tree is worth more to-day than an acre of that best land under the plow! As you think oi the heavy labor of deadening timber, cutting and burning it in the fields year after year to get at that land for the plow, and realize tbe awful mistake made at the cost of so much labor well, you feel giddy about the stomach. I knew a rich man in my native town 1 met him the first one at the station, he is not so rich now who owned several hundred acres ot black, stony land covered with walnut and ash timber as thick as the hair on a dog's back. He first cut down and burned a .'ew acres of it on the brow of a hill overlooking the town where he owned a bank. With hired men year alter year he gradually cleared up most of the rest. The stumps are nil out now and the land is prob ably worth $100 an acre, being on the edge of town. If the timber that was destroyed was standing it wonld be worth $5,000 an acre. There is still considerable timber in that section, but it is being rapidly worked up. I found three old playmates, now sub stantial citizens, with a big factory making It into tables most of which go to the biggest furniture house in New York, and some of which go to all parts of the world; two more of "the boys" ot 40 years ago turning it into pumps (one from which I drank just outside the station at Bouen, France, a couple ot years ago while writing foreign letters for The Dispatch and from another a little later in lower Italy.) Both ot these fac tories are among others on the banks, of the rnn where I used to wade after shiners in boyhood. While Northern Indiana is swarming with these manu:acturers and fac tories employing from a dozen to 1,500 hands each, the farmers there remain about where they were 40 years ago lucky if they can make both ends meet. Curiously enough the factories followed the general destruction of the timber. We are a very short-sighted people, for the same wanton destruction of timber is now going on else where in the West. I forgot to say that the banker is still a Danker, in a small way, but not so rich as he was when he owned and burned up that magnificent forest. He doesn't own even the land now. CHICAGO AND THE FAIR. Speaking oi the great changes out there, Chicago presents some of the greatest. In the first place the city is the smokiest, dirt iest city in the United States, and one in which it is the least desirable to live. Pittsburg in its worst days was not a marker to it. The side-tracks that gridiron the outskirts are crowded with cars loaded with iron ore, soft coal and pig iron some thing unknown 25 years ago, when little bnt lumber and live stock encumbered the rails. In my opinion the World's Fair there will prove a financial failure. Why? Not because Chicago pride aud enterprise will not give us a big and creditable show; but because nobody who is sane and can get away will want to remain in Chicago a day longer than is necessary. It is a big, noisy, filthy city, with no local suburban attrac tions to engage the attention, excite the cu riosity or limber up the tired faculties. With its present surface railway service it will be next to impossible to get a large number of visitors in and out ot the city. It takes just half an hour at the speed of a grip train to get imo Chicago alter you strike the corporation line. There are no tracks and no room for tracks whereby to double trains and no place to empty or fill them if there were tracks. The great city has outgrown her terminal facilities and circumstances will require a complete revolution in this respect before the evil is remedied. The authorities and the press are doing their best to stimulate such a revolution by urtring viaducts or underground work, but I doubt whether they will achieve the re sult (that must some day surely come) in time for the great Exposition. Independ ently of this vital point the most serious question remains: What will they do with the visitor when they get him? How en tertain him? When he has seen the Expo sition and a slaughter-house, what will they do with him to keep bim there and induce bim to spend his money? NEW YORK WILL PROFIT MORE. I asked Chicago friends these questions, and they could not give a satisfactory an swer. There is nothing in Chicago to keep anybody bent on pleasure on the contrary, one hot day in Chicago will wind up al most anybody. He will be glad to get out, and, escaping the smoke and dirt and stifling heat, breezes from the low plains, hie himself to the mountains or the Atlantic coast. Ne.v York will catch more clear cash Irom the foreign vis itor than will Chicago, for after a few preliminary days in the great metropolis by the sea the visitor will quickly tire of Chicago and get back East again as soon as possible. Therelore I say it will be a bad commercial venture for Chicago. The people who will crowd Chicago during the great lair will be irom the surrounding in terior, mostot whom would directly or in directly spend their surplus money in that city aiiyhow and a large proportion oi whom will be excursionists and picnickers who have no money to soend. Every dollar thus put out will be hoarded the next year following. The real profit of such an expo sition is in people of means and of leisure and pleasure, such as travel all over the world in search of the latter and are willing and able to pay for what they get. As for a Parisian, or Berliner or Londoner staying in Chicago a single day for pleasure, pooh! It is ridiculous. Yon will bear this predic tion in mind a couple of years hence, if you please. Charles Theodore Murray. Druggists say they can't sell any other liniment since the introduction of Salvation Oil. NEW ADTXUTISEirTEXTS. IT IS NOT OUR AIM TO SELL CHEAP GOODS Mil CHS Hit We will give you better value for your money than any other house in the city. We have vwroom furniture: From $12 50 to $375 per set of 3 pieces. OUR PARLOR FURNITURE Need only be seen to be appreciated. ott:r, carpets Are gems that sell on sight. A larger selection of Lace Curtains and Chenille Portieres Than kept by any two houses in the city. OUR SOLID OAK DINING FURNITURE Is having a very heavy run. It would be advisable to see these goods, get our prices and terms before purchasing else where. Odd Chairs, Odd Dressers, Odd Beds, Odd Pieces of Parlor Goods, at away down prices. ICE CHEATS AND MFMGEMTOES- From $3 75 to $50. Take your baby out riding in one of HOPPERS' :-: CARRIAGES. The only Furniture and Carpet Houses on Wood street Come and see us. You will not regret it if you have money to spend for house furnishings. We have the DAYIS SEWIJSG MACHINE AT 20, Lower-than any machine in the city. Don't forget the place, 307 W001D STEEET. 307 NEAB FOURTH AVENUE. HOPPER BEOS. & GO. ap!3 THE DISPATCH BUSINESS OFFICE :r,:e:m:o"v:e:d From Fifth avenue to Corner Smithfield and Diamond Streets building- formerly occupied by Ahlers, merchant tailor. "More monev is to be made safely in Southern investments than an ywbere else." How. William D. Kelley, Pennsylvania. GREAT LAND SALE AT CARDIFF, ROANE COUNTY, TENS., On tbe Queen and Crescent Road and Tennessee River. The Cardiff Coal and Iron Company, (Chartered by the State of Tennessee), Capital, $5,000,000. HON. B. B. SMALLEY, Burlington, W. P. RICE, Port Payne, Ala., H. O. YOUNG, Cardiff, Tenn.. - NAMES OF THE DIRECTORS. W. P. Eice. Fort Payne, Ala.; B. B. Smalley, Bnrlington, Vt.; General Joshua L. Chamberlain, New York Citv; Hon. Kobert Pritchard, Ciuttanooga, Tenn.; Charles L. James, of James & Abbott, Boston; Hon. Carlos Heard, Biddeford, Me.; Hon. John M. Whipple, Claremont, N. H.; T. G. Montague, President First National Bank, of Chatta nooga, Tenn.; Hon. J. F. Tarwater, KocKwood, Tenn.; Hon. S. E. Pinjrree, Hartford, Vt: tt xir:n:. w... Tr.-a r; "XT . - TT n. vAnn pniu-ft.n. n . Dr. J. M. Ford, Kansas City, Mo. WILL HOLD A MAMMOTH LAND SALE OP ITS CITY LOTS AT OAEDIFF, APRIL 22, 1890, AND FOLLOWING DAYS. Excursion Trains will be run from New England, leaving Boston, SATURDAY, APEIL 19. The Cardiff properties are not experimental. The coal and Iron have been profitably mined more than 20 years. The location is in tbe midst of already developed properties. The company owns over 50,000 acres of coal and iron mines and timber lands, situated in tbe Tenurssee counties ot Eoane, Cumberland and Morgan. Its citv of Cardiff contain over 3,000 acres. There is scarcely any industry which cannot find" a favorable chance at Cardiff for successful establishment, and profit. The development is in charge of men of approved judgment and experience. Excursion to Cardiff fo'r the sale will be arranged from principal cities of the North and "West. Proceeds of sales to be applied to the development of the property by the ereetion of iron furnaces, coke ovens, hotel, water works, motor line, eleetrie lights, manufacturing plants, public buildings. A plan will be offered which will enable purchasers to seeur lots at reasonable and not speculative prices, the intention being to give patrons of the sale a chance to make a profit, as well as the company. Accommodations will be provided for all attending the sale. For further information, prospectus, etc., apply to "W. P. EICE, Quiney House, Boston, Maw. CORDLEY & CO., Bankers, Boston, Mass. Or to the Company, OAEDIFF, Eoane county, Tenn. sta BUT- mm n ST. uniuu ar117 Vt, President - Vice President Vice President it . 1 1 -1 i i 4 I i
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers