THE MAN WHO FOUGHT WITH THE TENTH,
IAX INCIDENT AT SANTIAGO.]
In the quick-coming dusk of the tropical "One hour ago before me he stood,
night, His voice was steady ami low ;
What was it that barred the way? 'l'll And my regiment, now,' ho said,
The colonel, walking the lines of the Tenth, 4 lf you'll give me leave to go.
Stooped down where a soldier lay. * i « »i ,u« 1
* * ! *But lest ray captain should think I shirked,
Dead he lay. but he guarded still T Wili you write him a line to say
A paper in his right hand. I w ' th tho Teuth - UDller >' our oom_
i'" 1 " "y <■«>»««r
, , T ». "Quickly I wrote (this paper would show
•This is the man whose voice I heard He had done his soldierly part);
In the thick of the battle today: Bllt )ltt i o j thought to lind him hero,
1 7MI '.? S 5 ° ly ,r i ep A ME -R ' ® r "l t , h T ° Nlnt , l ?' With a stray shot in his heart!
11l light with the Tenth, if I may !'
"He served with us, with our dead lot him
"Men were falling to right and left, rest.
The bullets around us flew : And give him a comrade's place."
I looked at him sharply ; he simply said, The man who had fought with the Tenth
•My duty I'd like to do.' seemed to smile.
As he lay with his upturned faco.
" 'Be it so, I answered, 'serve with the
Tenth'— They slipped the paper he never would need
And he disappeared from sight. Into his hand again,
They say hn fought with a gallant will; And the colonel passed slowly along the lines
I saw Ir 110 more till tonight. To cheer his drooping men.
—Edith M. Thomas, in New York Sun.
t A STORY BY THE JUDGE.
While several of tho old court
wenchers were in the county court
house in New York city, the other day,
discussing a famous poisoniug case,
the one called judge inquired:
"Should a lawyer defend a mau charged
with murder when he knows the man
to be guilty?" This question led to
tn animated discussion, which, after
some two hours, was brought to an
end by the judge suddenly exclaim
ing: "Do you see that man?"
The benchers turned their faces in
ilie direction indicated by the speaker
just in time to see a tall, lank man in
shabby attire leave the building.
Before a word was spoken by any
jf the curious benchers the judge
said, as though musing to himself,
though in a tone loud enough for the
others to hear:
"Strange that I should see that
man just at this moment and when we
were discussing a question that he
could have answered. His life, like
mine, has been a failure, but thank
God! ray regrets, though many, cau
never be as bitter as his are. He
ruined his career as a lawyer by de
fending a man who had confessed that
he was guilty of murder."
"Tell us tho story," exclaimed the
ane known as the proctor.
"He was ruined," began the judge,
"by his ambition."
"Ambition, "suggested the solicitor,
with a genial smile on his kindly,
clean-shaven face, "is responsible for
much good and much evil. It is am
bition that has made wrecks, legal
driftwood, of many of us. We have
dreamed of great deeds in our profes
sion, we have builded fairy castles in
the air, while others have by hard
work succeeded. I for one "
"The story! the story!" exclaimed
several of the benchers.
The judge, thus urged, told his
story:
"Some 40 years ago it was that I
entered the small courthouse in a
email town in the western section of
Sew Y'ork. Court was in session,and
bhe hush that had fallen upon the
•rowd in the room was oppressive.
Nothing was heard at that time but
khe ticking of the clock and the breath
ing of the spectators. The presiding
judge was lookiug up Rome legal ques
tion in the law books before him. The
rapt attention of the jurors and the
eagerness of the counsel caused me to
realize that a trial of more than ordi
nary interest and importance was in
progress. I asked a bystander what
the cause on trial was. He gazed at
me in surprise for a moment and then
exclaimed: "You must be a stranger
in these parts?"
"'I am,' I replied. 'I have just
some here from New York city to file
a complaint in an action of ejectment.'
" 'This,' replied my informant, 'is a
murder trial,aud there,' he pointed in
the direction I was to look,'is the man
who will certainly hang.'
looked at the prisoner at the
aar. He was a good looking young
fellow of about lio years of age. There
was something in the expression of
his pale face that convinced me of his
guih.
*Wliile the trial judge turned over
after page of the law books I
learned the details of the crime.
"I learned that in his house on the
outskirts of the town, one morning
two mouths before the day of the trial,
John Peterkin,a wealthy old man who
had beeu, it was said, in the habit of
keeping large sums of money in his
house, was found murdered, shot in
the back. Tho murdered man had
been seated when he was shot, for his
uhair was overturned just as he had
fallen from it. Peterkin, who was
about 67 years old, lived alone with
his niece, a pretty girl about 18 years
old. She it was who discovered the
murder. When she had sufficiently re
covered from her alarm, the niece,
Mary Peterkin,aroused the neighbors.
"At first it was thought that the
motive of the crime had been robbery,
but when the police discovered that
the safe, the door of which was un
locked and halfway open, contained
81750 and that the old man's watch
bad not been taken, that theory had
to be abandoned. For several days
the case was a mystery. Theu it came
to tho knowledge of tlie chief of police
that Hasdall Benidder.the only sou of
a widow, whose father had been post
master of the little town, had beeu
seen arouud the house and had spoken
unkindly of old Peterkin. Benidder
was arrested.
"When I had learned this much,"
laid the judge, "the trial judge, whom
we will call Blank, looked up from the
legal books and said: 'I will admit
the testimony objected to.'
"While Judge Blank was reviewing
the law questions I looked at Mary
Teterkin. She was seated in the rear
of the courtroom anil was an exceed
ingly pretty young woman, the pallor
of her refined face illuminated by large
blue eyes. She was in deep mourn
ing, which but enhanced her beauty.
" 'Proceed,' exclaimed Judge Blank.
"The witness on the stand—a police
officer—then testified that he had
found a small revolver with an ivory
handle in some bushes just outside of
the window of the room where the
crime had beeu committed.
" 'Were there any marks on that re
volver?' asked Horace Dash, counsel
for the prisoner—the man I just
pointed out to you.
" 'Yes,' replied the witness.
m " 'What were the marks?'
" 'The initials M. P.,' replied the
witness.
" 'Did you ascertain who owned
that pistol?' asked Lawyer Dash.
" 'l'es—Mary Peterkin.'
"An exclamation of surpri»»» went
around that little courtroom. Mary
Peterkin started up in bewilderment
and then fell back into her chair.
" 'Silence in the courtroom!' ex
claimed Judge Blank.
"With a face paler than that of
either the prisoner or the niece of the
murdered man, Lawyer Horace Dash,
counsel for the prisoner, said to the
witness, '.Step down.'
"The next witness called was a
woman who had formerly been em
ployed by old Peterkin as a house
keeper. She was exceedingly nervous,
and her voice trembled when she
swore to tell the truth. There was a
malignant expression on the face of
the counsel for the prisoner when ho
asked the witness:
" 'Do you know Mary Peterkin?"
" 'I do,' was the reply.
" 'She is tho niece of the murdered
man?'
" 'She is,' replied the woman in a
whisper.
" 'You once lived with the dead
man and his niece?'
" 'I did.'
" 'Did uncle and ever quar
rel?'
"'.Must I answer that?'asked the
old woman, turning to .ludge Blank.
" 'You must,' sternly replied the
judge.
"'Yes. They quarrelled,' faltered
the wituess.
" 'What about?' asked the counsel
for the prisoner.
" 'She—Mary—wanted to marry a
man her uncle did not approve of.'
"All eyes were turned toward Mary
Peterkin, who, with an expression of
horror on her face, sat crouched up in
her chair. Everyone in that courtroom
seemed to realize that the testimony
already adduced against the prisoner
at the bar was as nothing compared
with that just brought out against the
girl. The prisoner at the liar was pale
and trembling and, I thought, an ob
ject of abject misery. Theu the thought
flashed across ray mind that he might
be innocent. It was evident that
Lawyer Dash was struggling with him
self when he asked the next question.
" 'Did you ever hear Miss Peterkin
threaten her uncle?'
" 'I heard her say once that she
wished he was dead,' replied tlie wit
ness.
"With a moan of anguish Mary
Peterkin fainted. The prisoner started
forward and, despite the ert'orts of the
bailiffs to restrain him, exclaimed:
" 'This is a shame. I am guilty,
and that man'—pointing his finger at
Lawyer Horace Dash —'knows that 1"
am.'
" 'What does this mean?' asked
Judge Blank,addressing the prisoner's
counsel, who was leaning on tho table
and seemed about to faint.
" 'I don't know, your honor,' re
plied the lawyer, who was seen to
press his hand to his heart.
" 'Let the trial proceed,' said Judge
Blunk, 'and don't let that woman,'
indicating Mary Peterkin, 'leave this
room.'
" 'Stop!' exclaimed the prisoner. 'I
withdraw my plea of not guilty. lam
guilty.'
"For a moment silence, oppressive
silence, reigned supreme. 1-inallythe
judge said: 'Do you appreciate your
position? That I can pass sentence
of death on you?'
" 'I do,' replied the prisoner, with
a defiant look at his counsel, 'but 1
would like to say a few wo'ds.'
" 'Proceed, sir,' said Judge Blank.
" 'I committed the crime, your
honor, but not from desire for gain.
It was done in a moment of anger, just
anger, and for the sak« of my dear old
mother. Years ago my mother, so
that she .might pay some debts I con
tracted while in college, mortgaged
her farm—the home where she was
born, the home that she went to as a
happy wife, the home where I was
born—to old Peterkin. Each year
since then she jai 1 to him usurious
interest. Finally there came a day
when he would not renew the mort
gage. That was the day I killed him.
I pleaded with him, but in vain. He
insisted he would foreclose the mort
gage. He called my mother a vile
name. I saw the revolver on his desk,
picked it up and aimed at him. He
wheeled around in his chair toward
his desk, and the bullet entered his
buck.'
"While he was telling this story the
prisouer several times pressed his
hand to his left side and moaned as if in
pain.
" 'Have you anything else to say?'
asked Judge Blank.
" 'l r es. I want to say,' explained
the prisoner in gasping tones, 'that
after I had retained that lawyer'—
poiutiug to Horace Dash—'l told him
I was guilty; that I wanted to plead
guilty. He forbade my doing so—said
it was a splendid case. He would ac
quit me and cover himself with glory.
He said he would ask no fee. I urged
that I was guilty, but he said he could
clear ma. I consented to the plea ol
not guilty.'
"Again the prisoner placed his haud
to his heart and with an effort said:
'I could not save my life at the ex
pense of an innocent person, and that
person a woman. lam guilty.'
"He sank back into a chair, and
Judge Blank turned to Horace Dash,
the prisoner's counsel, and asked:
" 'What have you to say for your
self?'
" 'I did my duty—my plain duty,'
said the lawyer. 'As I understand it,
it is a lawyer's duly to defend his cli
ent aud to acquit him as best he can
" 'Not at the expense of an innocent
person,' remarked Judge Blank.
"'I maintain it is,' replied the
lawyer. 'Although a prisoner may
confess gtiiit he may be innocent. He
might be insane when he confessed.
He might be actuated by a desire to
save, at the expense of his life, a guilty
person. He might '
" 'I am guilty!' shouted the pris
oner. 'I did it. I did it. I '
"He fell backward on the counsel's
table, gasped and, after a few c mvnl
sive movements, attempted to rise,fell
back, twisted half arouud.and his soul
passed to a higher tribunal. Judge
Blank,after ascertaining that the pris
oner at the bar was dead, said: 'I ac
cept his plea of guilty.' "
The teller of this story then added.
"The man who so strangely passed be
fore me today was the prisoner's law
yer. He uever prospered at the bar.
His career was ruined with the case
which he hoped wcr.ld earn him fame."
—L. P. C., in New York Eveuinp
Sun.
THE CAMBLER WINS ALWAYS.
Klectri«*»l l>eviee for Winning at Dirt
Reveale«l by im o<l<l Table.
Among the battered flotsam and jet
sam that has accumulated in a second
hand store in New Orleans, says the
Times-Democrat, is a shabby round
table with a curious secret, and uo
doubt a still more curious history.
The top was once covered with green
billiard cloth, which is worn to tatters
and discloses a steel plate set in the
centre and perhaps ten inches square.
The whole top is loose and cau be re
moved, revealing an interior space
containing a horseshoe magnet wound
with wire and connected with an arma
ture very much like that of an ordi
nary telegraph instrument. A close
examination shows an insulated wire
running down one of the legs to a
small knob or button, protruding on
the outside. When the top is in place
the steel plate rests directly over the
magnet.
This strange device is explained
clearly enough by its present owner.
"It is a dice table," he said, "on
which a lot of money has been won.
When it was in order there was a good
sized battery inside connected with
the magnet. When the knob 011 the
leg was pressed the current wus turned
on, and that made the steel plate mag
netic. The dice they used with it had
small metal disks on one face, and as
long as the current was on they natur
ally fell that side down. When the
knob was released they would fall any
way they chanced to come, so all that
was necessary for the operator to do
was to keep his knee 011 1 lie button and
he could absolutely control his play.'
QUAINT AND CURIOUS.
In Germany a clock has been made
that is warranted togo for 9000 years.
The yellow silk spider of Ceylon is
perhaps the largest of his species.
His average weight is nine ounces.
Artificial legs and arms were in use
in Egypt as early as B. C. 700. They
were made by priests, who were the
physiciaus of that early time.
Only seventy years have elapsed
since the first railway in the world
was finished. During that compara
tively brief period four hundred thou
sand miles have been constructed.
In this country placing the thumb
to the nose and extending the fingers
is a sia;n of derision. Among certain
hill tribes in India it is the i»"*t ex
pressive manner of showing <;ct.
The first mode of public punish
ment in New York city was the whip
ping post, set up in 1635. Upou
this offenders were hoisted up by the
waist, and suspended for such length
of time as their offense called for.
Pekin, China, has a tower in which
is hung a large bell cast in the fif
teenth century, and another tower
containing a lmse drum which is iu
tended to be beaten in case a great
danger should threaten the city. No
one is allowed to enter these towers.
Fish Commissioner Mcfluire of
Oregon declares in his 1899 report
that up to the present time salmon to
the value of about $75,000,000 have
been taken out of tha Columbia rivor.
IMNHHHMIN9
| THE REALM 0F FAS HI°N. p
NEW YORK CITY (Special).—Leaf
green satin-faced cloth, effectively
trimmed with applique of black satin
folds in scoll design, with narrow
soutache braiding, is illustrated in
A STYLISH GOWN.
;his stylish gown. The draped vest
and stock collar of crepe-de-chine are
.n the palest robin's-egg blue tint.
Several stylish features are embroid
-31-ed in the unique shaping of the
;vaist, the scalloped fronts that join
the shapely collar in shoulder seams
jnd extend in fanciful epaulettes over
the sleeves being new and attrative.
Glove-iitting linings that clo3a in cen
tre front support the outer portions of
the waist proper. Upward-turning
BEBTTYPE OP MIBBM' BHXBT WAIST.
pleats deftly arrange the fnlnesa of
the draped vest over a smooth plast
ron, that is secured to the right front
lining and closes over on the left. The
stock collar is closed in centre back,
the Medici collar flaring prettily
around at the sides. The sleeves are
stylishly gathered in the arm's-eye,
the wrists having a slight rounded
flare. A black satin ribbon crush belt
is worn at the waist. The skirt has
the clinging, eel-like tendency at the
top that characterizes the new modes,
flaring below the knees and falling in
soft folds. It is shaped with a nar
row front gore aud two wide circular
portions, fitted at the top by small
darts. Two backward-turning pleatp
meet over the placket that is formed
at the top of the centra back seam.
Braided ornaments are used in clos
ing. Extremely charming will this
design be found for gowns of broad
cloth, Venetian, poplin, velvet, satin,
taffeta or the uew novelties now shown,
chenille and silk, passementerie,
ruched or frilled ribbon, lace or irreg
ular insertion providing suitable gar
niture.
To make this waist for a woman of
medium size will require one and one
half yards of material forty-four
inches wide. To make the skirt will
require three aud one-half yards of
same width material.
Sliirt Walat For a Mias.
The shirt waist of 1899 is charac
terized by the yoke extending less
over the front, the moderate fullness
and shaping of the sleeve, less pouch
at the waist line in front, and more
elaborate neck decoration than ever
seen before. In place of the simple
linen' collar a stock with projecting
flare portion at the top is ofttimes worn,
and a very dressy eilect is given by
ribbou passed twice around the neck
and tied in a small bow with long ends
at the front. Pink and white striped
percale is daintily depicted in the large*,
engraving with a stock tie of sea foam
green taffeta ribbon. The fronts are
gathered at neck, shoulder aud waist
lines, the closing being made with
stnds or buttons through buttonholes
worked in the box plait that edges the
right front. The back is laid in side
plaits, three on each side turning to
ward the center, and the yoke that
forms the upper portion meets the top
edge in a pretty curved point at the
centre. The yoke extends far enough
over the shoulders to bold the gath
ered edges of the full fronts firmlv in
position without detracting from tha
Btylish shaping or the length of front
that is necessary to a handsome figure.
The fullness at the waist line may be
regulated by a draw tape. The fashion
able sleeves are gathered top and bot
tom, link cuffs completing the wrists.
The slashed openings are faced by over
laps and narrowly hemmed or faced
on the under side. Waists in this
style may be of silk, flue woolen or
wash fabrics, foulard, taffeta and
Japanese silks, lawn, dimity, ging
ham, plain and checked nainsook,
pique and organdy being found among
the newest materials.
To make this shirt waist for a miss
fourteen yearsoldwill require two and
five-eighths yards of thirty-iuch ma
terial.
A Handsome Sliirt Waist.
A pretty white shirt waist of lawn
is n solid mass of narrow tucks back
and front. The little flaring cuffs arc
tucked and the sleeve is plain, except
at the top, where there are a dozen 01
more tucks running across. The
standing collar is tucked, and so is the
turned-down collar, which forms lit
tle lapels in front, allowing the tuck
ing inside like a small, pointed vest.
Some Prettr Trimmings.
Fine nainsook embroideries with
medallions of Jace introduced here
and there add pretty variety to the
season's trimmings. Irish point and
Venice point effects are also prettily
reproduced in the cotton embroider
ies for trimming cotton summer
gowns.
I.awn Ruffle* For the Gownp.
Lawn ruffles in white and pale
coloi-3 can be bought all hemstitched
ready for use, and if you want to make
your white lawn gown especially chic,
scallop all the ruffles in hand em
broidery.
Kiblions Much Sought After.
Taffeta ribbons in checks and plaids
always find a ready sale, and the dot
ted styles are again sought after.
Costume For a Girl.
Light-gray cheviot trimmed with
rows of narrow black braitl is shown
in this graceful skirt, which is circular
in shape, with seaui in centre back,
The right front laps over the left,
where the closing may be made, or
the placket may be finished in centre
back, if so preferred. The skirt is
fitted with small darts at the top,
which in ay be omitted, and the full
ness held easy to the belt when sew
ing. Two backward turning pleats
meet over the centre seam in back,
an d are held closely together by silk
placket buttons, which are provided
with cord loops for closing.
The skirt may form part of justsue'i
a costume as illustrated here, or b.i
made separately to wear with fancy,
silk or cotton shirt waists. Plain
self-colored cloths are in good taste,
cashmere, serge, cheviot, as well as
pique and crash for midsummer
GRACEFUL CIRCULAR SKIRT.
wear, all being suitable materials for
skirts in this style.
To make this skirt for a miss four
teen years old will require three and
three-fourths yards of material forty
four inches wide.
A TEMPERANCE COLUMN,
THE DRINK EVIL MADE MANIFEST
IN MANY WAYS.
Tlie Temperance Army—Drunkenness In
France—Fear That the Whole Working
Class Will Become Ifahltual Drunk
ards—A Vigorous Teetotal Campaigu.
The Philippine Isles are taken
Bv Dewey, wise and brave,
And we are In the army
Our land from drink to save.
While Sampson's on thfl lookout,
With ready fleet and strong,
We, too, are in the army
To battle 'gainst the wrong.
The Peril of France.
Some time ago a Prenchmau compiled
new statistics concerning the consumption
of alcohol in the different countries of Eu
rope. The statistician fouud himself com
pelled to assign the somewhat doubtful
honor of flrpt place on the list to his own
countrymen, and, what is still worse, the
"Grande Nation" was not closely followed
by tho drinkers of whisky or sohnaps, but,
;o use a racing term, simply won in a can
ter. When these statistics became gener
ally known the first Impression in France
was one of unbounded astonishment.
Frenchmen had always been accustomed to
look on drunkenness as a horrible vice es
sentially peculiar to their neighbors across
the Channel and across the Rhine. The
feeling of astonishment soon gave way to
sne of mingled panto and anger—panic on
account of the future of the nation, and
anger against the "mauvais patriots" who
bad dare to tell bis fellow-countrymen an
unpleasant truth. However, now the
truth been recognized everything is to
be done that can be done In order that the
situation may be ameliorated.
Wo have alreudy touched on one curious
feature of tho Frenob teetotal campaign;
the barracks have been placarded with
pictures showing the results of drink, and
a number, of medical men have started a
special crusade against the evil. It ap
pears that drunkenness in France has not
been communicated to the people from
nbove, that is to say, whereas in the labor
ing classes the examples are unfortunately
frequent, the oases of aloohollsm In the
upper und middle classes have up to the
'present beon relatively rare. The statis
tics before us show that the favorite bever
age of the French workingman Is the horri
ble concoction known as absinthe, and Its
effects upon him are really disastrous. The
harm done in England by the over-con
sumption of whisky and by schnaps in
Germany Is small compared to that done
by absinthe in France. Dr. Laborde, of
the Academy of Medicine, has affirmed in
a brochure upon the subject his convicfion
that, unless something is quickly done to
remedy the present state of affairs, within
a relatively small number of yeurs the
whole of the working classes will have be
come habitual drunkards. Special legisla
tion on the subject has already beon pro
posed, but as the "marchands de vlns" are
exceptionally Influential electors, it is to
be feared that the deputies will be slow to
support any measures >likely to decrease
the consumption of ulcohol in France.
HogUili Authors and Abstinence,
Waller, one of the liveliest and wittiest
poets of the Restoration period, was an in
flexible abstainer from all intoxicating
liquors.
Lord Byron confessed: "The effect of
wine upon mo Is to make me gloomy—
gloomy at the very moment it is taken; but
it never makes me gay."
De Qulncey wrote in eulogistic terms of
the modern temperance movement: "It has
attained, both ut home and abroad, a na
tional range of grandeur."
Doctor Samuel Johnson abstained for
;ousidorablo periods from Intoxicating
drinks, with great advantage to his mind
and feelings, and always absolutely con
tended for the wisdom of this course.
Lord Lytton wrote (in IS4G): "I agree in
the muin in tlie principles of the temper
ance society, and heartily wish it success,
as having already done much good, and
being calculated to do much more."
Shakespeare, in several of his dramas,
lepicts the misery of indulgence in strong
drink, and puts into Cassio's mouth the
celebrated words: "Oh, thou invisible spirit
of wine! If thou hast no name to be known
by, let us call thee—Devil!"
Sir Isaac Newton, John Locke and Robert
Boyle were exam pies of remarkable abstem
iousness, amounting almost to total abstin
ence from all intoxicating drinks. When
composing his treatise upon Optics, Sir
Isaac used only water as a beverage; and
Locke, In his writings, strongly recom
mended abstinence, especially in the physi
cal training of the young.
William Oobbett wrote: "In tho midst of
i society where wino aud spirits are con
sidered of more value than water, I have
lived two years with ao other drink than
water, except when I have found It con
venient to obtuln milk. Not an hour's ill
ness, not a headache for an hour, not the
smallest ailment, not a restless night, not a
drowsy morning have I known during those
two famous years of my life."
Evil Eflect or the Cocktail.
If one goes to a dinner party of three or
A banquet of three hundred, the first duty
is held to be to pour a highly alcoholic
•'cocktail'' into an empty stomach—an in
sult to the digestive organs as brutal ae
could b? offered them, und for three hours
these poor structures are staffed with an
excess of nitrogenous food and flooded
with niuny kinds of acohollo mixtures un
til in the early morning hours they are at
last allowed some chance to repair their
Injuries. But what an ldeu of nutrition
and of life it all presupposes! If a visitor
from some other planet should stumble on
our fashionuble drinking habits he would
surely be long in fathoming the mystery of
why otherwise sensible and honest men
make themselves such slaves to the drink
lleni!. And what the result of it is we all
see UDd know. The reliance upon alcohol
once established in youth, the tyranny be
comes all tho more furious in later years.
A Champion's Testimony.
A champion cj-ollst was asked: "Do you
iver take spirits of any kind? I mean
whiskey or brandy."
"No;" they cut the breath short. Tou
can't race and take brandy. It may help a
little but it leaves you worse. I believe
that if five or six men were together in a
race, say two miles from the tape, and one
was handed a drink of brandy. It might let
him break away and win easily; but If he
hail ten miles, or a long race before him,
he would flnd great difficulty in riding. His
breath would be cut -short. The man who
drinks brandy or whiskey will soon be
broken-winJed."
"So you don't believe in brandy?"
"No; it may help for a short spurt, but
it is no good for a long run. Only a tem
perance man can be a good racer."—Pacifla
Ensign.
The Crusade In Paragraphs.
There are 3516 saloons in Missouri.
The saloon was born of evil, but It exist?
because good men tolerate it.
Sixty thousand tons of corks aro used tor
the bottled beer consumed in England.
In January, 1887, there were in St. Louis
4067 saloons. This year finds that number
reduced by statutory regulation to 2029, a
decrease of 2038. The Missouri law pro
hibits the adulteration of liquors.
Belgium spends $242,600 a day on stTOng
drinks.
Confirmed drunkards are shamed into
reformation in many of the towns of the
Argentine Bepablio by being compelled to
sweep;the streets for eight days each time U
Ihey may be arrested for Intoxication. M
The saloon club may appear harmless,
but it Is a deadlv weapon. . .. _