A QUIET OLD AGE.
Mrs. John C. Fremont In Her Callfornln
Privations of the Western frontier
anil life at the courts of Europe form
the two extremes In the romantic ca
reer of Sirs. Jessie Benton Fremont,
who is enjoying the closing years of
her life in Los Angeles, Cal.
A Virginian by birth, plunged at four
teen into the brilliant society which
gathered about her father, Senator Ben
.*ton, In Washington, she eloped at six
teen with a fascinating young lieuten
ant, John C. Fremont.
' Though she returned almost Imme
diately to her father's home, she aided
\ind abetted the schemes and explora
tions which brought her husband such
renown as the "Pathtluder;" shared his
conquest of California, which meant to
him not only political honors, but the
possession of gold mines as well; re-'
turned with him to Washington when
California sent him there as her first
Senator, and in the heyday of his pros
perity and National lame queened it
royally in St. Louis in a little court of
her own. From this she expected to
return to Washington to reign as mis
tress of the White House, but Genernl
Fremont was defeated by Buchanan in
the Presidential race.
This disappointment was drowned in
a foreign trip, made memorable by the
high honors with which General Fre
mont and his wife were received at the
English anil European courts, where
tlic beauty and wit of the accomplished
' 3lrs. Fremont made a strong Impres
sion. A good linguist and accustomed
from infancy to distinguished and cos
mopolitan society, she made many
warm friends. Among them was the
Empress Eugenie, with whom she still
corresponds.
Jlr6. Fremont's old age Is spent In
her charming Los Angeles home—a i
spacious two-story cottage presented to
her by the women of California. At
the advanced age of seventy-six, Mrs.
Fremont retains much of her bril
liancy and beauty. It is difficult to
think of her as old, or even helpless, ■
although she practically is so, owing i
to a broken hip, which confines her ]
during the day to an Invalid chair. ;
Before this catastrophe, two years ago,
she was the gayest of the gay, and the
accident is another of those pat Illus
trations of the old saying that pride
•f.'etli before a fall. It happened at
the time that alio was rejoicing in a
glorious sense of health in which she
boasted one day, and in an excess of
spirits danced across the floor to dis
play her exuberant vitality. But she
did not reckon on that snare or snares
—rugs on a polished floor. There was
a slip and a slide and down she went,
her walking as well as her dancing
days forever over.
She is of large build, wherein she
takes after her distinguished father,
Senator Benton, who was over six feet
and of powerful physique. She has
strong, handsome, aristocratic features
anil an expressive countenance, with
n regal poise of head and mien so ma
jestic that as she sits and Itows a
smile of welcome to her visitor she
gives the effect of a gracious personage
receiving in state. The bow Is accom
panied—if the visitor takes her fancy—
>l >y a wave of the hand to indicate the
seat nearest her, for this grande dame
I is a little deaf and does not participate
as much as formerly in the general
conversation.
The Ten Face.
If diction not quite iu accordance
witii its subject may be pardoned, a
certain acquisition of the women of
to-day may be described as the "tea
face."
It is seen on nine out of every ten
women at any afternoon tea, and it
is a strenuous, vapid expression which
once observed can never be mistaken
for any other intent of countenance.
Young girls are not nlflieteil with it.
•Their unsnted, omnivorous propensity
for social gatherings and their merry,
buoyant spirits enable them to enjoy
even teas.
But the women who are perfunctor
ily attending the function, to whom
it is only No. J or 3 on an afternoon
list of four or five, these women as
sume the tea face like a mask, and
with it hide their weariness, their pre
occupiodness or their dissatisfaction.
Another peculiarity of the tea face is
the continual furtive glance that is
cast from behind It.
After all, it is but a mask, and the
real woman is ever surreptitiously look
ing out from the corner of her eye in
search of some special thing that really
interests her. It may be only the dock
on tile mantel, it may be the caterer's
name, it may be a social lion, but al
ways the woman with the true tea face
will expose her secret interests or am
bitions by involuntary and hasty sur
veys from her ungovernable eyes.
But it is a good thing, this tea face.
Suppose for an instant the guests at
a tea showed on their countenances
their true egotism instead of a genial,
cordial pretense of altruism! Suppose,
when we greeted a woman with the
latest thing in handshakes, we could
read in her face her ennui, her curios
ity, her Indifference, or her impatience!
Instead of this we meet a delighted
nmile, an exaggerated assertion of in
terest In our welfare, and an affirma-
tion of unbounded joyousness—and wo
are grateful.—New York Herald.
Eight Rules For Popularity*
First—Kemember that a good voice Is
as essential to self-possession as good
ideas are essential to fluent language.
The voice should be carefully trained
and developed. A full, clear, flexible
voice is one of the surest indications of
good breeding.
Second—Remember that one may be
witty without being popular, voluble
without being agreeable, a great talker
and yet a great bore.
Third—Be sincere. One who habit
ually sneers at everything not only
renders herself disagreeable to others
but will soon cease to find pleasure in
life.
Fourth—Bo frank. A frank, open
countenance and a clear, cheery laugh
are worth far more even socially than
"pedantry in a stiff cravat."
Fifth—Be amiable. Y'ou may hide a
vindictive nature under n polite ex
terior for a time, as a cat masks its
sharp claws in velvet fur, but the least
provocation brings out one as quickly
as the other, and ill-natured people are
always disliked.
Sixth—Be sensible. Society never
lacks for fools, and what you consider
very entertaining nonsense may soon
be looked upon as very tiresome folly.
Seventh—Be cheerful! If you have
no great trouble on your mind you have
no right to render other people misera
ble by your long face and dolorous
tones. If you do you will generally
be avoided.
Eighth—Abovo all, be cordial and
sympathetic. True cordiality and sym
pathy unite all the other qualities
enumerated, and are certain to secure
the popularity so dear to evcrv one.—
New York World.
Tiflave Taking.
The old-fashioned flowing veils have
called out some pretty pins. Circles of
pearls and oval lattices in pearls and
diamonds are attractive conventional
designs, while bees, butterflies, dragon
flies and other insects In brilliant en
amels and colored gems will warmly
welcome the winter season.
A little nicety of leave-taking that Is
practiced by a certain well-bred wom
an, says the Dundee News, Is to rise to
end tho visit while she is the speaker.
In this way she is apparently leaving
while she Is much interested. This is
better than to start at the end of a
pause, or to jump up the moment your
hostess's voice drops. One way implies
boredom; the other waiting for a
chance to get away.
This may seem a trifle of observance,
but it Is worth while if only to train
one's self in the habit of easy leave
taking—a rare accomplishment even
among women with wide social ex
perience. Once standing, leave prompt
ly, and avoid spinning out a second
visit in the hall.
Keep Tour Shoes " New."
Some people always buy the most ex
pensive footwear, and always manage
to look ill shod. Others haunt bargain
counters and wear unpretentious shoe
maker's shoes, and somehow the boot
toe peeping from beneath their skirt
is always of the neatest.
All boots, shoes and slippers intended
for ordinary wear should be kept on
their tree when not in use, and when
ever the walking boots get damp, they
must be rubbed with vaseline as soon
as they are taken off, first, however,
removing tho mud and afterward pad
ding them with soft linen rags or
paper. This will preserve their shape
and prevent shrinkage. Shoo polish
should be used sparingly, and only af
ter the dust has been wiped off, for
more shoes are destroyed by the reck
less use of polish than is generally sup
posed.
Canvas weaves are very popular.
Draped girdles appear on many of
the finest Importations.
Flecks and lumpy dots of white are
seen on the modish material.
Cluny and point applique combine
beautifully on fine garments.
Apricot is one of the lovely and fa
vored shades for evening wear.
Almost invisible plaids are the
height of the mode In hairy fabrics.
Lovely effects arc arrived at by
smoothcrlng tho charming flowered
silks in cream lace.
Do not fasten your boa under your
chin. Catch it with a jeweled clasp
on the bust and wear it as though it
were a shoulder cape.
Persian embroidery, in fact, a vari
ety of Oriental trimmings, with bright
or delicate colorings, are applied on
lace—cream makes a good medium.
Lace appliques and medallions are
seen on many of the dress hats. Beaver
in white and pale shades is frequently
treated with this garniture. They are
laid flat about the brim and crown.
In white, all wool waists a thin one
which would also stand tubbing if
handled with care is a Bedford cord,
almost a sheer waist, it is so thin.
This is finished with many small white
silk buttons.
Y'oung girls are wealing gowns of
black taffeta trimmed with white lace.
It is an odd fashion, but smartly
gowned girls and young matrons are
including at least one such dress in
their wardrobe.
No two uiolres look alike; the waving
ones seem to possess a certain charac
teristic of their own. There is moire
antique, moire Francaise and satin
striped and figured cousins. A pleas
ing novelty shows polka dots of vary
ing size.
AN OLD-SCHOOL EDITOR
COL. COCKERILL'S TRIBUTE TO THE
JOURNALISTIC PRECEPTOR.
A String of llcmlnlseeuceß Started by a
>~ewpuper Clipping—Tile Beginning
of a Career—A Mother', l'ride in Her
Boy's " First Appearance in Type."
[Note. In compliance with the re
quest of one of the oldest subscribers
of The Journalist I reprint the follow
ing article by Colonel John A. Cocker
ill. It originally appeared in a Christ
mas issue of The Journalist, which is
long since out of print—A. F„ in The
Journalist.]
I found upon my table the other day,
among the clippings piled there by the
exchange reader, a bit of an extract
credited to the Scion. A strauge uame
that for a newspaper. I wonder
whether the exchange reader knew
what a striug of reminiscences that
odd clipping would start iu my mind
when he placed it on my table! Tbut
paper was called the Scion of Temper
ance when I first knew it thirty odd
years ago. It was in the office of this
queer little journal that I learned to
set type, that I acted as roller-boy
and "devil," and It was for this direc
tor of public opinion that I wrote my
first article. In the little Southern
Ohio town in which I was chiefly
reared, the general industry centered
around the court house, and the two
newspaper offices in which the rival
weekly organs were printed. There
was a blacksmith shop and a store or
two, and a couple of taverns, but the
lawyers who sat under the court house
trees in the summer time and dis
coursed politics, and the publishers of
the county printing were the oracles
of the town aud the controllers of Its
destinies.
I had a fancy for the printing of
fices. I remember well the drowsy
summer afternoon when I strolled in
to the office of the Scion and asked
the editor—his name was Samuel Bur
well, and he Is living yet, the dear old
soul—to teach me how to set type. He
stood me on a candle-box in front of a
case, placed a lot of wooden letters in
the boxes and shotted me how to set
tile types in a stick. Before I left
the place I had mastered the boxes.
Knew them all. That was the begin
ning of my journalistic career.
From setting type I advanced to
roller-boy. The paper was issued ou
Thursday. The press used in that
office was an ancient contrivance of the
Itainage pattern. It had immense
wooden uprights, a very clumsy "dev
il's tail" and it took two pulls to print
one sheet ou one side. That Is to say,
tile platen was only half the size of
the bed. The press that Ben Franklin
danced around in Philadelphia was
scarcely less primitive. The Ink was
applied with a short, hard roller. Each
page had to he inked in turn, tile distri
bution being performed ou a piece of
marble tombstone on a table. We
wrenched off an edition of about 400
ou this ramshackle press, my friend
tile editor, working the machine and 11
briar-root pipe at the same time. The
paper off I would help to distribute it
through the village. That was a real
delight in those quiet, prosy after
noons. IVitli my little bundle under
my arm I could wander listlesly and
barefooted through the side streets
and alleys where cows ruminated and
hogs dozed; stopping here to fling a
paper over a fence, thrust it under n
door, or climb upon a roof perchance to
Idle away some time with men engaged
in shingiing. Then there were hoys to
play marbles with, dogs to stone and
apples to be stolen from branches nod
ding over forbidding fences. The route
was not a heavy one, but It never took
less than three or four hours to go
over it. I did a good deal of this sort
of work for very light compensation—
a promised interest in a Carrier's Ad
dress.
One day, Just as the Scion was about
to go to pi-ess, a rural gentleman came
into the office with an advertisement
of a farm for sale. My editorial pre
ceptor rushed to the case to put the
notice in type. Then came my great
opportunity. In that office it was the
rule to give each now advertisement
a brief local mention—a sort of edi
torial Indorsement. I asked the privi
lege of preparing one in this instance,
and it was granted. I sat down and
wrote my first essay for.print. It was
as follows: "The attention of our read
ers is called to the advertisement of
Farm for Sale in another column."
Tills was the formula in the office of
the Scion. I was tempted to add a
word or two about the excellence of
tlds particular farm and the desirabil
ity of the location, bub we were
pressed for time. I carried my article
to the case and carefully placed it in
type. How I watched it go upon the
press, and how I read and re-read it
with a pride and a sense of importance
that I have never felt since. I carried
tliat paper home and showed it to my
mother. I remember that she seemed
happy, and that she more than once re
ferred to "the young gentleman who
was writing for the newspaper." God
bless her! I'm sure she laid that paper
away in the big bureau where she kept
valuables. She probably thought that
she had seen brighter and abler articles
in newspapers, but none more truthful,
direct and concise than this. How far
away those days seem, and how the
press has improved since I helped to tug
off the edition of the Scion! The cylin
der press was in use in the large cities,
but some very important newspapers
were "worked" on the old hand press,
which has since almost disappeared.
When I see the monster .iumbonian
■presses in the World office printing,
pasting, cutting, folding and delivering
40,000 eight-page papers an hour, and
realize that I hare almost seen the evß-
lntlon from the hand press In my day,
it makes mo feel real antique. And per
haps I am growing old, for remember
that when I was an Infant playing with
my big toe in a cradle the experimental
telegraph wire between Washington
City and Baltimore was still tingling
with the first electric message ever
transmitted. I am contemporaneous,
you see, with the telegraph and the
big printing presses. The little country
college in which X took my first lesson
in journalism—the Scion—is still pre
sided over by my patient, assiduous
Caleb Quolem, old friend Burwell.
How gray and wrinkled he must be
now! I thought he was an ojd man
when he taught me how to set type and
to smoke a pipe, if I am not mistaken.
I thought him wise and good and gen
erous in those far off days, and X am
sure he has improved with age.—John
A. CockerilL
The lteckleiii XJog.
"Did you ever notice that a dog will
not wait for a street car to pass if he
wants to cross the street?" asked an
observant man. "Well, he never will
do it. He will dash wildly in front of
the car every time, and very often he
takes his life in his hands, as it were,
iu order to make the crossing. Why it
is I do not know, but the average dog
will become panic-stricken in away if
a car rolls along at a time when he is
anxious to get on the other side of the
street. With a desperate plunge he
will dash in front of the car. In many
instances the ear will not miss the dog
the fraction of an Inch. I have talked
to street car men about the matter, and
motormen have assured me that nine
ty-nine out of every 100 dogs will do
this very thing. It may be that they
do it just for the excitement of the
thing. Dogs seem to love excitement.
They seem to be particularly fond of
anything that smacks of the chase,
anything that will give them a chance
to develop speed and show fleetness of
foot. We have all noticed how they
will run after and bark at any object
that Is in motion. I have known dogs
that would run 100 yards or more after
a cloud shadow, or the shadow of a
buzzard, as it skimmed along the land
scape. They will run after flying
birds. They will chase anything that
is on the go, whether the object is oni
mnte.or inanimate. They will run af
ter wagons, street cars, bicycles, auto
mobiles or any old thing, and it may
be that this old love of the chase has
something to do with the practice I
have been discussing. At any rate,
the average dog will not wait for a
street ear to pass if he wants to cross
over to the other side of the street."—
New Orleans Times-Democrat-
Westminster'* Stnlnod Gins*.
The great rose window in the south
transept of the Abbey, "which has just
been dedicated to the memory of the
late Duke of Westminster, reveals the
poverty in the matter of stained glass
of our national Valhalla. The Puritan
iconoclasts made short shrift of the
magnificent and priceless glass of the
thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth cen
turies. Fragments alone could be
found to form "the extraordinary
patchwork" of the great east window
whore scarcely auy figure is distin
guishable. The great west window
belongs to the reign of George 11.,
whose arms are in the centre. From
the same period dates the window in
the south transept. Then there is a
window in the southwest tower, given
by Mr. Childs, of Philadelphia, to the
memory of the two religious poets,
George Herbert and William Cowper,
both Westminster students. True, the
Chapter House close by is not so hailiy
off. Its windows, setting forth various
incidents in the Abbey story, were
presented by the late queen and by
American ana English subscribers. But
as the space available for monuments
diminishes, the stained glass window
seems an appropriate commemoration
for men of more national importance
than the late Duke of Westminster.—
London Daily Chronicle,
A Successful Son of a Poet.
A Governor who was au experiment
anil has turned out a successful one is
Lord Tennyson. There were people
who sliooic their heads over the selec
tion. They thought his father's sou
must inherit some of the self-conscious
ness that Is a radirlon iu the Isle
of Wight, where every sparrow ou a
tree was suspected of having come
from England to view the bard, and
the frog that leaped out of his path
was accused of having swam the At
lantic. The poet lived by his popular
ity, but would not, with the half
pence, take the kicks. Now, out* of a
Governor's chief uses is to show him
self. He is there to be seeu. How
then, the people argued, would the
moods and modes of l'arrlngi'ord be
possible at a Government house? Time
has solved the problem. Lord Tenny
son, going 011 his far journey, left nil
the poet's impedimenta behind him.
He was turned upside down—"liter
ally," and his views of men aud tilings
underwent au answering reversal. As
a result, he is proving himself thor
oughly acceptable; and there are people
ill South Australia wlio think that
Downing street might do many a worse
tiling than send Lord Tennyson from
Adelaide to the Governor-General's
quarters In Sydney and Melbourne.—
Loudon D*.i!ly Chronicle.
Angora floats to Clear Burnt.
A company has been organized In St.
I.ouis with a capital of SIOO,OOO. It
proposes to buy 35,000 acres of waste
laud iu Southwestern Missouri and
Northern Arkansas, which is covered
principally with scrub oak. briers and
hazel brush. Then it w ill turn loose
several thousand Angora goats, which
will clear the land better than men can,
and bring in an income while doing
so. Once the tract is cleared it will be
put ou the market us fruit aud farm
lauds.
■: HOUSEHOLD 9 9 9 £
5 * 9 * 9 MATTERS -j
■Sw.v.v.v.w.w.v.v.v.vJ
Stains on Porcelain Tubs.
Kerosene applied with a flannel cloth
Is most efficacious in removing discol
orations iu metal or porcelain tubs.
Those arc often occasioned by the min
eral properties contained in the water,
but sometimes by a lack of daily care.
In either event a brisk application of
kerosene will effectually remove all
trace of them.
Hint to Housewives.
The musty taste and odor that some
times clings to a metal tea or coffee
urn which lias long been In disuse may
be removed by putting a red hot cinder
on a hit of tin or fragment of china In
the bottom of this and letting it remain
until cold. The top is, of course, al
lowed to remain ou during the cooling
process, and when removed the air In
side will be found as pure aud "sweet
as sunshine."
A Swinging Portiere.
Occasionally in household decoration
It is desirable to hang a portiere or
door drapery ou the same side as that
on which the door opens. This, of
course, is very awkward, as the door
is almost sure to catch the hanging
each time it is opened. To obviate this
trouble, which heretofore has only
been accomplished by changing the
door to open in the opposite direction,
where possible, a sliding curtain rod
has been devised. One end of the rod
Is supported 011 a bracket on the door
frame, while the other extremity Is
supported ou the door itself. The
necessary give Is provided in a num
ber of ways, all comprising some
scheme of sliding support.
Lump* For the Library.
The newest lamps for the drawing
room and library are of metal and nat
urally form a fitting foundation for
those beautiful bent glass domes in
leaded effects or other metallic set
tings. A number are in art nouveau
effects; one of these is of oxidized
brass. In shapes they range from
graceful forms (not the very squat
shapes) to tall monumental affairs of
the banquet variety.
A clever thing of Grecian form with
low, graceful supports is in mandarin
bronze, and is very attractive.
One charming oxidized bronze lamp
is in the old Dutch style, a simple,
sturdy loving cup as to shape and the
column resting on three savage looking
griffins.
Choosing a lamp is easier than choos
ing a shade, for a shade must look well
when lit up, and it must be becoming;
—New York American.
' Pear Marmalade—Wash the pears well
In cold water; remove stems and blos
som end; cut the pears in small pieces;
put them iu a kettle with very little
water; set in another vessel holding
water and cook until reduced to a pulp;
then rub through a colander. To every
pound of pulp allow three-quarters of a
pound of sugar. Cook until smooth
aud thick enough to drop from a spoon
In clots. Fill into glasses or jam pots
anil when cold cover with paraffin.
Squash Biscuit—To half a cup nf
cooked squash add three tablespoonfuls
of sugar, half a level teaspoonful of
salt, four level tablespoonfuls of butter
and half a cup of scalded millc; when
lukewarm add one-tliird yeast cake
dissolved iu one-fourth cup of tepid
water; then add about two and a half
cupfuls of flour; cover and let rise over
night; in the morning shape into bis
cuits; let rise two hours and bake in
a rather quick oven twenty-five min
utes.
Coroanut Sponge—Thicken one pint
of milk with two heaping tablespoon
fuls of corn starch, three tablespoon
fuls of sugar and a little salt; stir un
til thickened and cook ten minutes;
when slightly cool beat in the whites of
three eggs beaten stiff and one cup of
fresh grated cocoanut and turn into a
mold; serve with a soft custard made
with the yolks of eggs, three table
spoonfuls of sugar and one pint of
milk; stir in the double boiler until
thickened or creamy; serve cold.
Risen Parsnip Fritters—Pare and boil
the parsnips until very tender; drain
and rub through 11 sieve: measure and
to each cupful of the parsnip pulp add
one pint of scalded milk with two
tablespoonfuls of butter dissolved iu it;
one teaspoonful of salt, half a yeast
cake dissolved iu a little warm water,
and flour enough to make a drop hat
ter; beat weil and stand aside until
light; then 'add flour to make a soft
dough; knead well and let rise a second
time; when light, mold into biscuits,
set close together, in greased pans and
when well risen hake in a hot oven;
when taken from the oven brush over
with a little milk and serve.
Potato and Nut Turnover—Put ten
tablespoonfuls of mashed potatoes into
a bowl and whip them until very light;
then season to taste with salt; stir in
gradually six tablespoonfuls of sifted
flour and three tablespoonfuls of melt,
ed butter. When well mixed turn out
011 a floured baking board and roll out
nn inch thick; cut in rounds with n
large cake cutter or a small howl; put
In the centre of each cake a spooufu)
of ground prepared nuts slightly moist
ened with stewed tomatoes; moisten
the edge of the rounds with the white
of egg and fold into a little turnover,
pinching the edges together; brush with
beaten egg and brown in the oven or
fry iu deep hot fat until a light brown.
The average woman has a better
memory for hats than for faces.
LOTTERIES RUIN PEOPLfc.
Continental Europo Still Clings to Them
For Iterenue.
The lottery gambling system was
created In this city In the eighteenth
century. From Genoa It has spread
over the entire continent of Europe,
and the masses of Austria and Ger
many in particular lie entirely under
its sway. The lottery nowadays is as
governmental as the sale of opium,
and equally as noxious in its influence.
But it brings to the respective govern
ments millions of pounds sterling regu
larly in commission profits, and it pre
vails. The procedure of the lottery,
from a governmental point of view, is
very simple.
The State declares that a lottery is
to be held for, say, fSOOO, and adver
tisements are issued to the newspapers.
Then tickets, like glorified bank checks,
are printed, bound up in volumes and
issued to the government tobacco
shops. The lottery is advertised, and
masses are drawn to the gamble like
flies to an empty treacle cask. The
tickets are dealt out. The prices rarely
range above a shilling per ticket. The
tobacconist receives his or her small
commission on the sales; the govern
ment does likewise, but on a much
fuller scale. The counterfoils of the
ticket are duly collected by the govern
ment officials and the bitterly pathetic
procedure—bitter, indeed, to those who
fully realize the horrid curse that the
lottery system really is—of drawing
the winner takes place on the appoint
ed day.
The counterfoils are thrown into a
wheel-shaped urn, with sides of glass.
The wheel is seven feet in diameter
and fonr feet in width. When filled
it is whirled round rapidly, and then
the trap door is partially opened, and
amid breathless silence a speelally
choscn hoy Inserts his bared arm and
picks out the winning counterfoil. The
figures printed on It are advertised as
the winning numbers, and the "haupt
treffer," as the winner is named, calls
at the State bank with the ticket and
receives the huge stake lie has won,
less, of course, government commission.
The lottery is a fair and simple pro
cedure, ns this description shows, but
there is another side to the picture.
No greater curse blights the condition
of the poorer classes abroad. Philan
thropists have denounced it In the bit
terest terms, but officialism, while ad
mitting all its evils, clings to the sys
tem because of the millions sterling
which it brings to the revenue.—Genoa
Correspondent Cincinnati Commercial
Appeal.
An Abbreviated Snowßtortn.
"Mechanical devices are now made
wonderfully real on the stage," said
the old stock actor. "It hasn't been
so many years ago since even the sim
ple device of depicting a snowstorm
was regarded an achievement. I re
member on one occasion I was out
with a 'ten, twent and thlrt' company
playing repertoire, and in 011 c melo
drama—l don't even now recall the
name, for it was a pirated play—l took
the part of an old man whose daughter,
the heroine, had been abducted. I
was supposed to be blind, and n;y
strong scene was the third act, when
I went out in a snowstorm in search of
my daughter. She was lying in a drift,
and as I hobbled across the stage I
kept crying: 'Me eke-ild! where is no
che-ild?' Well, it was early in the
season, and the play was the first at
traction nt that theatre. The scene
painters had been at work, and had
dropped several paint brushes, ham
mers and other articles into the sheet
that held the snowstorm. As the stage
hands in the flies shook the sheets to
make the snow CO,ill" out a couple of
hammers name down and just missed
me by an inch. I was blind and didn't
dare to look up, but when a monkey
wrench just grazed my temple I had
presence of mind enough to yell: 'See
yonder moon! The storm is over!' The
stage hands took their cue and let up
on me, and the audience never stopped
to question how a blind man could see
yonder moon."—Philadelphia I'ccoid.
A Costly Experiment.
Sir Hiram Maxim, the Maine man
whose immense fortune and move re
cently his knighthood came from the
invention of the rapid-fire gun which
bears his name, has never lost his Yan
kee quick wit and readiness to cope
with a difficult situation. That charac
teristic appeared very clearly in the
first government test of his gun.
The rapid-fire weapon, then ,t nov
elty, was offered for test In the pres
ence of a number of military experts
and government officials.
The Inventor was asked to h. ve ton
thousand rounds fired at the greatest
possible speed. This was readily done,
but the experts were still unsatisfied.
"Can you guarantee," one of them
asked Maxim, "that your gun would
go 011 firing automatically for twenty
l'our hours?"
"Certainly," answered Maxim, quiet
ly, "on one condition."
"What is that?"
"That the government shall pay for
the ammunition used."
This seemed reasonable, hilt when
the experts figured it out tiiat the
twenty-four hours' test would take
over eight hundred thousand cartridges
and that the cost would he about
twenty-eight thousand dollars, they
magnanimously withdrew their re
quest.
Tli© Private Car of Nlriiolas I.
Tile Nicholas Railroad (St. Peters
burg & Moscow) has unearthed the car
built for the Emperor Nicholas I. about
fifty years ago and placed it iu tile
Railroad Museum of the Ministry of
Transportation. It is a very plain ear.
with a table in the middle, and cush
ioned scats along the sides. The win
dows arc set so high that the passen
ger had to stand up to see out. In
these days it would not do for u second
class car even.