According to official reports the
American navy used 314,233 tons of
coal during. the war with Spain. This,
perhaps, accounts for its hot and ef-
fective firing.
And now the coffin-makers have
formed a trust, with an aggregate cap-
ital of $20,000,000. ‘This, of course,
is a benevolent scheme to make death
unpopular by making a decent burial
more costly.
The suggestion that the new Amer-
ica’s cup defender be built for cross-
ing the Atlantic that
part in races for various international
she ‘may take
trophies in Eurcpean waters would be
a national expansion policy to which
no American could object.
Bicycles and trolley cars have dis-
placed 240,000 horses
Philadelphia,
New York, 40,00;
Baltimore, 25,000; St. Louis, 10,060;
Cincinnati, 10,000; Richmond, Ve.,
15,000; Toledo, 15,000, and the motox
vehicle is comingright along to add its
in seven cities
as follows:
Chicago, 75,000;
50,000;
quota to this column of equine dis-
placement.
Men now living will ride by rail
Then
ilization will set in all along the rail-
from Cairo to Cape Town. civ-
way. Towns will spring up in salu-
brious spots, and in some not salu-
brious, where money is to be made.
The telegraph, the telephone and the
electric motor will spread out on both
sides; and the ‘“‘anexplored eountry”
of the geographies of a generation ago
will hum with the activities of modern
life.
The United States censul at Vienna,
Austria, in a report to the state de-
partment,
crease in exports from Austria-Hun-
gary to this country to the fact that
the same goods are now manufactured
ascribes the general de-
in the United States at as low a figure
and even lower than in Austria. The
it is frankly admitted
that American cut
more elegant than
consul says
glass is finer and
any manufactured
in Europe, while in Austria,as in other
countries, the American bicycle is pre-
ferred to those of native make,
Notwithstanding the war with Spain,
the people of this country have not
and
philanthropy, the latest of which is a
forgotten deeds of generosity
gift of property by Col. C. H. Payne
to Cornell university for a medical
college and dispensary valued
$1,500,000. Since January 1 last
there have been donated by gift or
bequest in this country over $14,000, -
000 in about the following proportions,
Charities, $4,000,000; churches, #1,-
500,000; colleges, $7,000,000, and the
remainder to libraries,
galleries,
tions three have exceeded $1,000,000
each, two $500,000, four $300,000, ten
$200,000 and twenty $100,000 each.
at
museums and
Of these various contribu-
The fact is noted that if
Cuba should ever become an independ-
curious
ent republic it would be the sole island
in the world to possess
tional existence. Madagascar has be-
come French, and Japan is an archi-
pelago. This seems to show that is-
olated tracts do not get on well alone.
separate na-
Tiny countries, walled in by mountain,
barriers, like Montenegro and Swit-
z=rland, retain independence, but the
ocean is a less sure protection than
mountain walls, Even Iceland is a
dependency of Denmark still. An
island would seem a moreadvantageous
spot for maintaining a national exist-
ence than such territory as Belgium
and Holland, but
in a fair way to retain independence
permanently.
both countries are
“Every kind of industry tends to
go where production can be carried on
under the cheapest and easiest condi-
tions,” philosophises the New York
Commercial Advertiser. ‘‘Like other
forms of action, industry seeks the |
least resistance. We have had
peated illustrations of this principle
in this country.
Fo-
Wheat growing orig-
inally was an important industry in
New England, but later it shifted to
western New York, and now it is al-
most completely monopolized by the
western states. So» it has been, to a
large extent, with the iron industry.
During the first half of the century !
Pennsylvania produced nearly all the
iron used in the United States, but
“how an ever-increasing quantity of it
is furnished by the west and south.
The gradual migration of the cotton
industry from New England to the
southern states is in obedience to the
same economic law. The relative de-
cline in New York commerce is trace-
able to a lik cause. Excessive ter-
minal charges, want of adequate canal
facilities, railroad differentials and
similar burdens and obstacles have
diverted eastward-bound freight from
New York city to other Atlantic ports
which can be reached at less expense.
to the ground and glided along after
AT THE DOOR.
Oh, what care I for wealth or fame !
They vanish as a dream,
When night is drawn through gates of Dawn
On Slumber’s ebbing stream!
Let others sing of Death and War,
Or Sorrow’s tragic lore;
But Love has come and calls me home
To meet him at the door!
Oh, what care I to weave my Fate
On Life's mysterious loom,
Its warp and woof from peace aloof—
The glittter and the gloom!
Let others sing of Death and War,
Or Sorrow’s tragic lore;
But Love has come and calls me home
To meet him atthe door!
Oh, what care I for clashing creeds,
Or hostile schools of art, .
If I may wear through smile and tear
The ermine of the heart!
Let others sing of Death and War,
Or Sorrow’s tragic lore;
But Love has come and calls me hoixe
To meet him at the door!
Oh, what care I for houseless winds,
With rain and darkness blent,
If through the blight on me may light
The shy dove of content!
Let others sing of Death and War,
Or Sorrow's tragic lore:
jut Love has come and calls me home
To meet him at the door!
—Harper’s Bazar.
28x 28 38x 2B 2 3B 2B 2c 28x 3B 3c 3B 3B 2B 20 2B 2B 2B 2B 2B 3B 2B 2B
%
4
4
BY J. C.
THE CONVENIENT TIGER.
be
P
Adventure of a Man Who Found Himself in an East Indian Jungle with a Bag ef Rupees
and a Dishonest Servant.
POWTON, I. C. 8
I I Tg XT Rg I Ng gE TK IE SP Ng IN IN ag gE IE Ag EE XX
“I don’t know that 1 have ever met | birth, that he talks the argot of the
a full-blosomed yogi in all my vears in
India. One has to come to Awmerics
to find out the wonders and mysteries
of theosophy. But I have seen peor-
formances of Indian fakirs quite as in- |
explicable as anything I have heard
of the Mahatmas. There was one in
particular in which I was concerned—
a matter of some 20 years ago. It had |
a tragedy in it and some things which
neither yon nor I can explain. You
understand, no doubt, what an Indian
fakir is-—a man of the Brahminieal
faith who devotes his life to commun-
ion with the Hindoo gods. Through
prayer and contemplation and the
leading of an ascetic life the fakirs at-
tain powers that seem miraculous to |
the Western mind. -
“The fakir that am to tell you |
about came one afternoon to Archie |
Redvon’s bungalow, near Charpore,
where I had been staying for a few
days during a round of inspection. He
was an old, brown-skinned man, with
a long, intellectual face and hair and
beard snowy white. A waist eloth,
turban and sandals were all he wore,
and the rest of his visible belongings
consisted of a prayer mat, a hubble-
bubble, or native water pipe, and an
earthen bowl from which he ate his
food. He spread his mat in the mid-
dle of the compound, seated himself
cross-leged upon it and began to take
tinsel balls from somewhere—from the
mat, it seemed, although none could
be seen upon it—and to throw them
one by one up into the air. Each one,
as he threw it, - went sailing up, up, |
until it was out of sight, and none of |
them came down. Then he did the |
boy and ladder and the mango tree |
trick in ‘a manner that showed that he
was a fakir of no common order.
““I'hen he took a hollow reed, fash- |
ioned it into a sort of pipe and went
round in the compound and on the |
outside of the bungalow, playing a |
weird tune. Presently a cobra poked
its head out from a hole in the wall, its |
|
|
1
body followed, and the serpent came
the fakir. Soon another cobra crawled
out of the grags and followed the
sound of: the pipe. When the fakir |
stayed his steps the snakes stopped,
and as he played on the reed they |
reared their hooded heads from the |
ground, and their bodies swayed to
and fro as if they were keeping time
with his piping. = He called for a bas-
ket. A house servant brought him |
one, and the fakir, with his bare
hands, took the snakes each by the
neck and body, placed them in the
basket, pressed their heads down and
tied a cloth above them.
‘“This ended his performance. Red-
von gave him a rupee, and I banded
hini five, for I had never seen any-
thing to compare with what he had
done. He gravely took the coins, after
the manner of the Brahmins, without
a thank or salaam, But as he dropped
them somewhere in his waist cloth his
eye fell on my servant Nagho,standing
at my shoulder, and he looked at him
with a strange intentness,then turned
to me with a gaze as searching. Have
you ever chanced to notice a Hindoo’s
eye—so sombre black, so keen to see
and comprehend and revealing no
more than a pool of ink might the
thought behind it. But I noted in
the fakir’s eye what seemed to me to
be a flash of perception, of discovery,
as his look rested on Nagho and then
on me. It was the episode of a mo-
ment. He said nothing, but picked
up his mat and pipe, put the basket
and snakes on his shoulder and went
his way, taking the direction of Char~
pore, three miles away.
“On the next day I had to go to
Baghra to meet the deputy collector |
there. To save distance I decided to |
travel in a palanquin over a bullock
trail too rough for a carriage, instead
of going twice as far round by the
highway. I made my start in the
middle of the afternoon, expecting to
arrive in Baghra in the early evening.
In my traveling satchel were notes
and coin to the value of 12,000 rupees,
which I was taking to the deputy col- |
lector. At the last. hour Redvon |
showed some anxiety about my takiag |
the route I had chosen.
|
|
“ ‘Once your start is made, don’t
waste any time in getting through to
Baghra,’ he said. ‘Beyond Charpore
the road is through jungle all the way.
There’s a chance of dacoits—and then
if your palanguin bearers should run
upon them or get a tiger scare, they
would think nothing of setting down
the palanquin and leaving you in the
jungle. Of course, you have your re-
volver by you in working order?’
“Ihad cleaned and oiled and re-
loaded my revolver that morning and
told Redvon so. But he had still
another caution to give me. He looked
at Nagho,who was filling a water ves-
sel from a chatty at the further end of
the veranda.
‘¢ ‘That.servant of yours—have you
had him long?’ he asked. ‘My stew-
| a tulwar.
! trust him?’
| Calcutta.
{ mended and had proved a canable ser-
| fore I took
lone had been hurt,
| them thought that he had seen a tiger.
[ turn back.
| protect me from the sun
| by heat, and
had made a third of the remaining dis- |
| distrust Nagho.
| unpleasant change of expression in
ard tells me that he is a hill man by
Indian thieves’ guilds, and he carries
Do you know that you can
‘“This was news to meabout Nagho.
I had hired him two months before in
He had come well recom-
vant, I did not like the idea that he
should have carried a tulwar nnknown
to me. The tulwar, let me explain, is
the wide-bladed knife which the men
of the hill tribes use so effectively in
fighting, wielding it at close (uarters
| or throwing it. With his tulwar, a hill
man can cut off the branch of a tree
20 paces away or lop a man’s arm from
his body. I made up my mind that I
would find out more about Nagho be-
him with me on another
trip, but today there was nothing I
ecottld well do in the matter.
¢“ ‘I think the Hindoo is all right,’
I said to Redvon. ‘I'll have my eye
on him, though. Good bye. Hope
I’ll see you at Baghra next week.’
“We shook hands, and the four
bearers of the palanquin trotted away
with me at a four-mile-an-hour gait,
with Nagho and two relay bearers fol-
lowing. At Charpore, where we
stopped a few minutes to rest, the
bearers got hold of a report about a
tiger, which was said to have killed a
man or two lately on the road to
Baghra, and when they started on it
was with little of the willingness that
they had shown in the beginning.
We had got about four miles beyond
Charpore when we meta crowd of
grass cutters coming on the run for
the village, and they shouted ‘Tiger!
Tiger!’ as they came near us. I man-
aged to find out from them that no
but that one of
That was enough for my six palanquin
bearers. They set the palanquin
down and joined the grass cutters in
their run for the village, leaving me
with Nagho in the jungle.
‘I reckoned that it was about ten
{ miles further to Baghra and decided
{ that T would walk there
rather than
I spread my umbrella to
and started
along the path, with Nagho following,
carrying the satchel. It was a rough
road, miry in places. I had to stop
often to rest, so asnot to be overcome
darkness fell before we
tance to Baghra. But Iplodded on in
the darkness, feeling rather than see-
{ing my way, and hoping that nearer
would improve. I
0
an
Baghra the road
was beginning pretty thoroughly
There had come
his face since the palanquin men had
left us, and I did not like the furtive
look in his eyes which I had canght
several times in turning suddenly
toward him. Now that darkness had
fallen I carried my revolver in my
hand, quite as much on his account
as on the chance of falling in with a
tiger or leopard.
“I had ordered him to walk ahead,
which command he obeyed sulkily.
He was walking about 30 feet in ad-
vance of me when he turned suddenly
round just as my foot tripped against
a tree root, sending me sprawling to
the ground. As I fell something
whizzed above my head, and I heard
leaves and twigs falling far back of
me down the road. It was Nagho’s
tulwar, and but for my lucky tumble |
it would have split my skull as neatly
as you please. The Hindoo ran as
soon as he saw that his knife had
missed, taking the satchel with him.
I sent three shots after him from the
ground, then got up and started on at
an easy pace, for there was no hope
of my overtaking the Hindoo, for,
leaving the darkness out of the ques-
| tion, he could have outstripped me on
such a road two to one. My only
hope of recovering the satchel and
money and bringing him to punish-
ment was in getting to Baghra and
setting the native police on his trail.
“It soon became clear to me that I
should not get to Baghra that night.
The air was horribly hot and humid,
and the road got worse as I went on.
I could feel the jungle fever clutehing
at me in the miasma that rose from
the moist ground, bat it was better
to chance that than risk falling from
heat and fatigue.
under a tree by the roadside and had
begun to nod with drowsiness, when
the roar of a tiger somewhere off in
the jungle gave a new turn to my
thoughts,and I got up and stumbled
on. Just as the tiger roared again
I saw a smouldering fire in the clear-
ing off to the right. It was an even
chance whether it meant a camp of
woodcutters or a rendezvous of da-
coits, but I turned off the road and
approached it. Only one man was
by the fire—an old white-bearded man
seated cross-legged on a mat—and I
saw that it was the fakir who had been
at Redvon’s bungalow the day befere.
Here in the jungle he was sitting, ab-
sorbed in contemplation, as calmly as
I had rested myself |
{f such things as tigers or jungle fever
did not exist. Two cobras in a basket
by his side reared their heads and
hissed as I came near, but the fakir
did not raise his eyes until I stood be-
fore him. Then he looked at me with-
out the slightest sign of surprise and
motioned that I should seat myself
opposite him.
‘¢ ‘I expected you,’ he said, in Hin-
dostanee. ‘You will remain here until
the morrow.’
‘‘He returned to his contemplation
and spoke not another word through
the night. The tiger's roar came
nearer, and I clutched my revolver as
it changed into the low, eager,purring
cry that tells he has scented his prey
—but the old man gave no. sign tha
he bad so much as heard it. - I
watched the misty. darkness around
{ for an hour or more, but there was no
{ more roaring, and no tiger appeared,
{and I laid my pistol across my lap and
| prepared to pass the night as comfort-
ably as I could. In searching my
| pockets for cigars I found a package
of quinine. TI took 50 grains of it be-
fore morning and- thus saved myself
| from jungle tever. Hour after hour I
sat on the ground smoking cheroots,
{ with the old man sitting opposite me.
“Part of the time his eyes were
closed, but he did not nod or change
his position, and whether he slept or
not I could not tell. From time to
time he fed the fire from a little heap
of dry branches at his side,and two or
three times he lighted his hubble-
bubble, but he did not once rise to
| his feet or leave the mat. . Toward
morning sleep overcame me, and I
woke to find myself on my back on
the ground with the beams of the ris-
ing sun streaming into my face and
one of the cobras crawling across my
legs. I kept still,and the snake crept
away in the grass hunting his break-
fast.
‘““T'he.old fakir, who was smoking,
presently laid aside his pipe, collected
| his snakes and other luggage together,
told me with a look that we were to
move, and we left the clearing and
turned into the road toward Baghra.
Inthe dust,and more plainly in the miry
places, we could see the tracks of Nagho.
Presently there were other footprints
above the man’s and taking the same
course —the tracks of a tiger which
had come into the road from the jun-
gle. I had not said a word to the
fakir of what had occurred the night
before, but he pointed to the tiger’s
tracks and said gravely, the first
words he had spoken that morning:
*¢ ‘These are bringing you to your
property.’
“We kept along the road until we
| came to a place where the tracks
| showed that the swinging trot of the
tiger had changed to a succession of
long bounds, which ended at a spot
where the dust had been stirred Dby
marks of a struggle and caked with
drops of red. The bushes and long
grass crushed and bent to left and
right, showed where the tiger leaped
| back into the jungle,and there was no
| track of man or beast in the road be-
yond. But in the tiger's path at a
few paces from the roadside, strung
along the bushes, was the unwound
| turban of Nagho with a long smear of
| red upon its white,
““ ‘It was so appointed,’ said the
fakir. ‘He was weaving the plan of
his own death when he thought he was
compassing yours. Now, take your
| own, restored to you, and we will go
on into Baghra.’ 5
‘‘He pointed to my satchel, which
I had not seen, in the grass by the
| roadside. It was unopened, and all
| its contents were safe. We went on
| to Baghra, where the fakir left me at
| the outskirts of the town, taking his
| way, I suppose, to the house of some
| person of his religious order. TI gave
{ him a bag of rupees at parting, which
| he accepted without thanks or com-
| ment—to him it came by appointment
i of the gods, and I feel sure he would
| have received a sentence cf immediate
execution withthe same calm fatalisin.
{| I saw him once more, when he was
{ called before the magistrate to give his
testimony as to the manner of Nagcho’s
| death, but he gave me no sign of rec-
ognition. To one like him, wrapped
| in communion with diety,a mere man,
whatever his degree. was worthy of
| nothing more than a passing notice.
| “My story of the fakir is told, and
| you may explain it if you can to your
satisfaction. His tricks at the bunga-
low were incomprehensible to the
Western mind. Beyond these, what
do you think of his reading of the hu-
man soul,as when his glance at Nagho
revealed my servant’s thought of
murder and robbery against me? Of
his knowledge of the events occurring
{in his case beyond the perceptions of
the recognized senses of see ng and
hearing? Was it the reading of Nagho’s
mind at the bungalow and of mine by
the fire in the jungle? Iet that ex-
plain it if you will. But what a gen-
uine and lofty order of mind reading.
Compare it with the jugglery that
passes by that name among people of
| the Western hemisphere.” —New York
| Sun.
; Lotteries in Old Havana.
" “Life and Society in Old Cuba,” is
the title of an article in the Cextury,
made up of extracts from the journals
of Jonathan S. Jenkius, written in
| 1859. Mr. Jenkins says:
In Havana the stranger’s attention
is arrested by the venders of lottery
tickets, who stand on the street cor-
ners with a pair of shears in one hand
and sheets of lottery tickets in the
other, ready to cut off any number for
buyers. They are very adroit, and
are apt to persuade the credulous that
they will draw a fortune in the
scheme. These licensed lotteries are
one of the great evils there, especially
to the Spanish’ people, who seem to
be born gamblers, and for whom the
chanees of dice, cards and lottery
; tickets appear to have an irresistible
i charm, all classes in Havana dealing
| in them habitually.
@
oS ) 3
PBOBVDO!
A Dressy Waist.
This dressy waist, of fancy figured
green taffeta, is stylishly combined
with cream-colored satin and mous-
seiine de soie. The fronts roll back
in pretty pointed lapels from the neck
WOMAN'S WAIST.
to waist-line, which are faced with the
satin and edged with ruching of mous-
seline. The full front, of mousseline,
is arranged over satin in evenly spaced
rows of tucked shirring at the top and
blouses prettily at the waist-line.
The collar is of cream satin, shaped
with stylish points under the ears.
The waist is supported by fitted lin-
THE REALM OF FASHION. §
ing fabric or of material to match the
skirt.
The collar and shoulder straps ar
sometimes made of red, white, or palg
blue cloth, edged with the braid, which
enhances the military effect.
The skirt has all the prevailing
graduated flounce, that is so fashion=
able this season, joined to afive-gored
upper portion that fits closely the ba-
i coming fulness at the back, falling in
pretty fold. Serge, cheviot, covert or
broad cloth, and other weaves in plain
colors or fancy mixtures are suitable
for skirts or whole costumes by the
mode.
To make the jacket for a miss of
fourteen years will require one and
one-half yards of fifty-four-inch mate=
rial. To make the skirt in the medium
size will require three and one-half
yards of forty-four-inch material,
The Hobson Tie.
The Hobson tie is a pretty finishing
for the neck of a silk waist or woolen
gown with which linen collars ara
worn. The Hobson tie consists of g
satin sfrip with a slip-knot of accor-.
dion pleated chiffon worn in front and
fastened by a clasp like the four-in-
hand.
Colors For Evening Dresses.
Several shades of one color will be
worn on evening dresses.
A Favorite Style For Boys.
The Norfolk jacket is a favorite
style for boys, and when made in
ings that close in centre front, the full
front closing under the left revers.
The comfort-two-seamed sleeves
have stylish fulness arranged in
gathers at the top, and at the wrists
points of the white satin stand out
fashionably. The waist may be part
of a costume or made separately to
wear with different contrasting skirts.
Combinations of material and coloring
may be artistically arranged, and the
waist can be made in silk, cotton or
light woolen fabrics. Velvet made in
this way, with revers and front of
satin, and decoration of point applique
is especially handsome.
To make the waist for a woman of
medium size will require two yards of
forty-four-inch material.
|
A Patriotic Idea.
Our glorious victory has been cele- |
brated in the fashion world by model-
ling many of the new season garments |
according to the patriotic idea, so in
compliment to our heroes on water the
“Admiral” jacket, shown in jthe large !
illustration, is a favored style for’
misses. y
Naval blue faced cloth, braid and
brass buttons with anchor design are
incorporated in the stylish coat which '
is correctly fitted with a centre-back :
sean, side-back and under-arm gores.
The fulness below the waist is laid in
coat plaits which are flatly pressed and !
finished at the top by buttons, a deep
coap lap completing the centre seam.
The double-breasted fronts lap widely
in reefer style, the neck fitting closely
by a short-dart in the centre.
Square laps cover pockets that are
inserted in the fronts, and the neck is
finished by a military looking collar
closely fitted and trimmed with braid.
Shoulder straps cover the shoulder
seams coming forward, brass buttons
decorating each end. (These may be
omitted if not desired.)
The fashionable two-seamed coat-
sleeves are finished at the wrists by
the braid put on to simulate cuffs, and
the slight fulness at top is collected in
gathers, which is the newest style.
Jackets in this style are natty and |
smart and can be made of any cloak- |
MISSES’ ADMIRAL JACKET AND SKIRT.
heavy tweed or cheviot may be worn
throughout the whole winter. Brown
cheviot is the material here delineated,
machine stitching giving the correct
tailor finish. The jacket is shaped by
shoulder and under-arm seams, the
plaits being folded and applied on
front and back. The fronts are re-
versed at the top to form narrow
lapels that meet the rolling collar in
notches, bone buttons closing the
fronts in center and {he belt that is
worn at the waist, The two-seamed
ey
NORFOLK JACKET.
sleeves are of correct tailor cut, ma-
chine stitching simulating cuffs at the
wrists. i
Knickerbockers are here shown in
conjunction with this jacket, but the
regular knee trousers can be substi-
tuted. Brown felt sailor hat, brown
stockings and shoes completes this
| stylish suit.
A Bright Business Woman.
The electric light plant in Long
Beach, Cal., is managed by a woman,
Mrs. Iva E. Tutt, who is Superin.
tendent and principal owner as well,