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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 28, 1900)
'-it!sr'- iff THE SUNDAY OBEGONIAN, POMEAKB, JAlUAEY 28, 1900. "HORROR OF THE HEADS" GKTJE50ME VISITATION AT A LOIfE LY SEASHORE CABBY. An Actual Occurrence Besetting: Youngr "Woman on the Oresron Coast Some Years Aso. It was a wild night. The rush of the wind and the nearer tumult .of the tlda In the river drowned the Thunder of the surf. Neja and I shivered sympathetically and drew closer to the driftwood blaze in the cavernous fireplace. We always had a fire of evenings, whether the state of the weather demanded it or not, for Neja de clared that our yawning wooden chimney, built against the outer wall of the "lean to," was a constant invitation to panthers end wildcats to enter and make themselves at home. She was nervous and timid these days, quite unlike herself. I looked at her, as she sat in the glow of the firelight, her chin resting upon her clasped hands, her elbows on her knees, and wondered at the eadness in her face. Till a month ago she had been the gayest member of our claim holding quartet "If I tell you," she said softly, as if she read my thought, "you will not believe me, and yet I swear to you it Is the gospel truth. You remember my expedition to (the Cape, during your absence last month?" "Yes. The others said you were all un nerved when you came back. They thought it was because you were tired out and an noyed at having to stay alone. But I am sure it was more than that." "Yes," she said, still gazing into the fire, "It was more than that." She was silent so long after this that I thought she had forgotten. Then all at once it came to me. I clutched her arm. "Neja," I cried, "was It that? Did you see" f She looked at me sadly. "Yes," she said, "it was that. I saw but I will tell you about it." I drew my ohalr a little nearer, and glanced half-fearfully toward the shadows lurking in the corners of the great bare room. "Don't," she cried; "you look as if you -expected and yet it would be a relief, I think, for the memory is with me always a haunting horror that fills my days and nights." She shuddered and I slipped my hand In hers. In "Lute October. "It was late in October," she continued, 'that silent month when the winds are still, when the world Is at peace, and the sky, a dream of tenderness, melts into the deeper blue of the sea. I was expecting the others to come down from the Cape. They knew my aversion to being left alone and had kindly volunteered to keep me company till your return. In the after noon, feeling unaccountably restless, I strolled out across the hills, thinking to meet them somewhere -dthin a few miles of the mouth of the river. I missed the trail somehow and struck the ocean beach above the head of the lagoon. "From where I stood upon the rim of the sea wall I had an unobstructed view, southward to the bar. There was a soft, silver haze veiling the distance toward the Cape, but I caught a glimpse of a dark object there, and taking it for granted that it was one of the party for whom I was looking, and without a second glance I scrambled down the bluff, .and Tvent as I supposed, to meet them. The tide was nearlng the full, and I found it necessary, more than once, to take to the soft sand of the dunes. It was hard walking and my progress was slow, but I began at la6t to wonder why I did not see anything of my coming guests. The afternoon was fast waning when I reached the half-way point on the beach between the river mouth and the Cape, and I was forced to the conclu sion that I had been too hasty in taking the dark object, seen from the sea wall, for a human figure. Those I expected must have been detained unexpectedly, and I was clad, now that I had come so far, that it was easier to go on than to turn back, since I would be spared another night of solitude in this barn of a place. Imprint in the Sand. "Beyond the Big creek, in the soft sand left by the wash of the tide, I came upon a track. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before, and yet was strangely famil iar, too, In shape and size resembling eome what the imprint of a human hand, and supplemented by a lighter impression that suggested nothing on earth or lntthe wa ters under the earth. The sight of these tracks, occurring in pairs, at Intervals of perhaps a yard or more, Inspired In me a sensation of horror and at the same time excited my curiosity. "Within a mile and e half of the Cape they disappeared, and I hurried on, tired and eager for compan ionship, after my two days of enforced loneliness. It was not far from sunset "when I climbed the steep bank to the caom, surprised that no one came to meet me. "A moment later I understood. The door was locked. They were gone. In my disappointment I sat down on the steps end cried. I knew not that they had fol lowed the shore around the point, while I was crossing the hills, and so we had missed each other. Then I remembered tb&t I had walked 10 miles and more since luncheon, dried my futile tears, found the key -under the loose plank in the floor of the veranda and let myself In. "There was food, but no water. The brook was too far away, and I -was too tired to take an unnecessary step. I knew of a trickling spring in the cliff down on the beach, so I picked Tip the water can and started for that, scanning the shore meanwhile for some aign of the departed. I could see miles along the sands, shining in the sunset glow. There was not a liv ing thing in sight, not even a gull, and I turned to the task of filling the water can. Some One Was Coming. "When I looked again I could hardly credit my eyes, for there, not half a mile away, was some one coming. I shouted lor joy, never doubting that it was the captain or the captain's son, sent out to search for me. I was about to hurry back to the house to prepare supper, for I did not doubt that the wayfarer wasas hun gry as myself, when my attention was arrested by the fact that he had turned off toward the hills. I watched breathlessly, a suspicion, which grew to a certainty on the instant, freezing the blood in my veins. ""The object at which I gazed with strain ing eyes wore the strangest shape that ever enveloped life. It covered the distance be tween the beach and the hills In lone, awkward leaps, disappearing in the thicket where the brook breaks through the sea walL I knew then that the wild, fantastic tales, so often told about the cabin fire on winter evenings, were true. The 'Horror of the Heads' was not the creation of a disordered imagination, but a. living, awful reality, for I, alone in that lonely place, had seen it. "Terrified beyond all reason, I returned to the house. I was no longer conscious of being hungry, and I dared not build a fire. Locking the door and barricad ing the one window as best I could. I lay down on the, bed in the corner, but not to sleep. That dread shape seen in the glow of the setting sun on the beach kept my eyes wide and staring. All the extravagant stories I had heard about it came back to me with startling distinct ness, and I remembered that Yan, the halfbreed hunter, claimed to have seen it by moonlight, near Uie Sea Lion rocks, while coming down the trail from Hece ta, not a week before. "Suddenly through the stillness came a sound of stealthy footsteps; a shadow darkened,, for an instant, the gray patch of light that was the window. Then succeeded a silence that seemed an eter nity, as I lay, with strained senses lis tening listening! Was Jt imagination, or did I hear' the doorknob softly turned? Again and yet again that padded footstep crossed the veranda, and once a sharp sound, as If some one had Inadvertently stepped upon a loose board, startled .the still night. Later,. I was certain that I heard a heavy, labored breathing on the other side of the thin wall, at the head of the bed. and when I was trying to console myself with the thought that I was 6afely locked and barred from duter danger, there came a harsh, jarring and scraping against the corner of the house. "I gave up then. 'He's got a saw and is going to saw his way in,' was the con viction that forced Itself upon me, and I prepared for the worst My only weapon was a knife, and I was too scared to use it, if the need arose. The sawing ceased presently, and I, grasping the knife, sat up on the side of the bed, in- an agony of fear, waiting to see the wall collapse and to feel myself In the clutches of the monster, when a friendly grunt assured me that the thing I dreaded had not occurred. 'The relief was so great that I came nearer fainting than I ever did in my life. I never supposed that I should feel grate ful to a pig, but I blessed that one from my heart, every time I heard his reas suring voice. The proximity of anything so domestic afforded a sense of protec tion in the horror-haunted place, and when he rubbed his hairy sides against OPTIMISTIC fmsilL CONTINUES TO SEND IN CHEERFUL REPORTS FROM THE FRONT. Minneapolis Tribune. the sharp corner of the house, jarring the whole structure, till it seemed the roof would fall, it gave me a sensation almost akin to comfort. The "Horror." "The long night wore away at last As soon as it was light, I arose and threw open the door. It was a( beautiful morn ing, but I was In no mood to enjoy it My one thought was to gett-oway as soon as possible. I had not undressed, and my preparations for departure were of the briefest but, while making them, a shadow darkened the door, and I glanced up to behold" She stopped and caught her breath, with a little gasp. "Go on," I cried, "what was it?" She looked at me a moment, as if want ing words; then said slowly: "I do not know. Whether man or monoster or wild beast I cannot tell. I only know that I reeled back against the opposite wall and stared, speechless, till every detail of that hideous presence was Indelibly im printed upon my brain. Do not ask me to describe It I cannot; I dare not try. Only and this to me Is the strangest thing of all as I looked, I gradually lost my sense of fear. Terror. as swallowed up In pity, for from the black, bristling mat of hair that covered what might have been a face a pair of great, soft eyes shone out eyes so full of hopeless human woe and heartache that my own heart nearly breaks to remember. Oh, no words of mine can make you understand that mute appeal. I would have wept but could ont for I was In the presence of a grief too deep for tears. He turned, at last as If to go, and. Involuntarily, I sprang forward, with a low cry that ar rested him. "What do you want?" I asked brokenly. "Are you not hungry? Oh, let me do something for you' I gathered up my untouched meal of the night before it was little but dry bread and offered it to him, and did not shrink when he reached those horrible "hands to take It from my own. Luminous With Tears. "I do not remember what I said. The words seemed to rush from my heart to my lips, -and I question if he understood more than the feeling that prompted thenv for he uttered no sound. But the beau tiful eyes never left my face, and their soft light grew tender and luminous with unshed tears. "I watched him go it could have been but a few- minutes that he lingered that awkward, leaping gait" taking him quick ly from view over the crest of the lofty headland. Then I locked the door and came away. "And I am glad glad to remember that I was not afraid, when I, e girl, stood face to face with the 'horror' that hides Itself from the sight of man but, oh, think of it! to be like that, and yet to have a human soul!" She paused. The fire had burned low; outside the wind howled and lashed the tortured pines, and the rain fell In sheets. I hoped, as we rose and silently prepared for bed, that the "horror of the Heads" had for himself somewhere in some cleft or cave or hollow tree, a safe, warm shelter from the storm. . Once only these occurrences were some years ago was the creature seen again, and then but that is a story by itself. LISCHEN M. MILLER. Stygian Humor. The shades of Caesar and Brutus met at the landing, where Charon awaited them. "Et tu Brutus," said Caesar. VYe&i Going over?" "Yep. I'll shake you to see who goes first" The murmur of the waves was drowned by the rattle of the dice. "Well; thafs one horse on me," said Caesar. "Then I win," observed Brutus, pocket ing the dice. "How's that?" "It's twice you've been stuck." "I rather opine It ptyx 'em both," ob served Charon, as he unshipped his oars Omaha World-Herald. Looked So Artistic. "Do you mean to tell me she let the child sit there at the table with eg and cranberry sauce smeared on Its face?" said one woman in horror-stricken tonesv "Yes." replied the other. "But it wasn't indifference. She said she hadn't the heart to wash the baby's face It J looked eo artlstlQi" "Washington Star. ANTIQUITY OF FOOTBALL r t f ICELANDIC SAGAS THROW A, SIDE IjIGHT OK THE SUBJECT. Traced Back to the "Vikings, While Centuries Asro the Game Was Flayed in British Isles. By whom waa football Invented? It would be safe to offer a substantial prize to anybody who could answer that ques tion. But the controversial authorities would be a long time coming to their de cision on the matter, arid then the play ers themselves might not be convinced Somebody has said that the game was well known to the primitive races, possi bly of Neolithic times; but, of course, it is stretching a polrit to talk this way, as modern enthusiasts would not be able to Identify their own game with the one played so long before Christ. A year or two ago the antiquaries discovered that St. Cuthbert appreciated golf, and we were told about a window In the church JOHN BULL ' I A -- 1 I ' ,f f r i ir of St Cuthbert, Philbeach gardens, Lon don, which depicts the saint playing that game. In time to come, we may hear that St Catherine Invented the bicycle, because she met her death on a wheel. We live in the age of the apotheosis of football, but who has heard Its patron saint proclaimed? Every recognized club in existence possesses a living patron, whose virtues, to enthusiasts, seems to have something akin to saintliness about them, and therefore he elicits the respect that would be denied to the ancient his torical saint Modern footballers who have time to penetrate the mysteries of the Icelandic Sagas may discover some sidelight upon the subject Take, for instance, "The Heath Slayings," which such authorities as Mr. Elriks Magnusson and Mr. William Morris judged to have been written early In the 12th century. By this literary lan tern (with apologies to Congressman Cushman, of Washington state), the old Vikings of romance are seen at home in dulging in "knattlelkr," or ball-play which, in many respects, tallies with the unprofessional football practiced in earlier days of George IDT. Chapter 43 .shows that all violent players were disqualified from joining in with their fellows. Thus: Vikings at Ball-Play. "Now It was the wont of the Broad wickers In autumn to have ball-play, under the shoulder south of Eneat, and the place thereafter was called the Play-ball-meads, and men betook themselves thither from the countryside, and great playballs were made there, wherein men abode and dwelt there a half-month or more. Many men there were as then In the countryside, and it tvas thickly peo- pled. Most of the young men were at the plays, except Thord Wall-Eye, bur he might not deal therein because of his too great eagerness, though he was not so strong that he might not play for that cause. So he sat on a chair and looked on the play. Those brethren withal, Blorn and Arublorn, were not deemed meet to play because of their strength, unless they played one against the other." From literary Scandinavia it is a far cry to the territory of the American In dians, who appear destined by the process of racial absorption to disappear from the face of the earth altogether. We have all read of their activity and agility in the chase. But the inroads of civilization have largely conquered their barbarous practices and left them rejoicing devotees of the more manly sports of wrestling, footracing and football. A consultation of Mr. Luclen M. Turner's report to the Smithsonian institute on the ethnology of the Ungara district, will show that "football calls out everybody, from the aged and bent mother of a numerous family to the toddling youngster, scarcely able to do more than waddle under the burden of his heavy deerskin clothes." If within seven years every particle of our body Is renewed, 70 years may be a sufficient length of time to regenerate a tribe or nation. It would certainly In terest modern footballers to know how their old, dusky, feathered friends of the story-books, who chased men, captured, tortured and sometimes devoured them, went on, when they put toe or finger to the inflated ball no, I think It must have been solid but the authority above quoted has forgotten to go into the matter. As it Is never unfashionable to quote Shakespeare, let us turn to "King Lear." Oswald Is made to say to Kent: Til not be .struck, my lord!" To which Kent makes rejoinder, "Nor tripped neither, you base football player!" Dromlo, too, has something to say on the matter, In "The Comedy of Errors: "Am I so round with you as you with me, That, like a football, you do spurn me hither? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither; If I last In his service, you must case me in leather." Heads for Footballs, Is It true that the wild Irish used to punch a human head about? Webster In timates something to 'this effect In "The White Devil," which first saw the light In 1G12: "Brachlano, I am now fit for, thy en counter; Like the wild Irish, I'll ne'er think thee dead Till I can play football with thy head!" Research among Elizabethan drama would not bs very profitable for those who really want to know the lines on which football was played In those days. The game wa really In digfefiute from the time of Edward HI to Elizabeth nay, in the year 1349 a royal proclamation set tforth that football and every other minor game calculated to Interfere with the more manly and military sport of archery should only be practiced under serious penalties. Such an edict could never have been forthcoming if football had not, at that time, fairly threatened to become one of the most enthralling games of the future free England. It may be Interesting to lovers of foot ball to read of a Welsh game called "Knappan," of years, years ago. In knappan, one of the teams was mounted. "Goals" had not then been Invented, and the members of the opposing teams had no numerical limit. At times the landed proprietors and neighboring gentry would lJiuyiieuna aim neignooring gentry woum engage to play their footmen, the former on pony-back, the latter stark naked. The "field" was, preferably, a valley, and here the gamesters congregated. At the -outset, a knappan, or hardwood spheroid, more reminiscent of cricket than football, wasr tossed into their midst. The object of everybody concerned was to se cure and carry it absolutely away. But they knew how to grapple, and thrust, and scrimmage, and pass, and corner in those days. It was, truly, horseplay, in which the masters often outsweated their footmen. Modern players will laugh at this as a one-elded sort of conflict and, if at all inclined to socialistic ideas, will scorn the footmen for having anything to do with it. Let us, however, remem ber that it was no easy matter for a rider to secure the ball while on pony back, and that lithe young fellows on foot could find little difficulty in outpacing or outmaneuvering their mounted superior on the uneven ground. The naked "team" often won. Old English Football. There can be no doubt that old English football was conducted in a very rough-and-tumble fashion. No one ever dreamed of Its developing into a game for 26, with pavilions for mere spectators, and gate money for the benefit of hospitals. It wa3 a huge, rollicking game for the entire vil lage, and the objeqt was not to drive the ball Into opposite territory, but, by passing and throwing, to retain It for a given time in one's own hand3. Talk about present-day football being rough! It i3 women's play as compared with the old system, when the "teams" of two vil lages would martyr their snobby friends at the neighboring country town. One time 300 men "took the field" near Diss, England. Before the ball was thrown in, the Norfolk players grimly de manded of the enemy from Suffolk if they had brought their coffins with them. It was one of the earliest games, minus the cup. Edward HI, who abominated foot 'ball, could have had no suspicion as to what was afoot, or he would have turned in his grave and stalked suddenly forth on the combatants. A fractured patella or dislocated spine counted for little or nothing in those days, but the sport was ultimately depre cated by the gentry and eventually stopped by the strong arm of the law, as a nuisance leading to terrible brutalities and fatalities. Turn to the "Lay of the Last Minstrel." In connection with the gaieties of Brank some 'hall, we read: With dice and draughts some chased the day. And some, with many a merry shout, In riot, revelry and rout Pursued the football play. Scott tells us, In an appended note, that football found acceptance throughout Scotland, but was especially a favorite sport on the borders. Sir John Car mlchael, warden of the Middle Marches, was killed in 1600 by a band of the Arm strongs, returning from a football match. Sir Robert Carey's memories are quoted from, In which it Is mentioned that "a great meeting, appointed by the Scottish riders, to be held at Kelso, for the pur pose of playing at football," terminated In an Incursion lnlo England. "At pres ent (1805) the football is often played by the inhabitants of adjacent parishes, or of the opposite banks of the stream." Scott Indorses all that can be heard about unscientific football, and so does Bev. Dr. James Russell, in his "Reminiscences of Jarrow," this authority giving 1815 as the year in which the last great cross-country match was played. Testing; Their Pluck. 'The late Earl of Home," he says, "hav ing received some good-humored banter from his brother-in-law, the late fifth Duke of Buccleuch, on the disparaging terms in which his ancestor is spoken of in the old ballad: Up wl' the Southers o' Selkirk. And down wl' tho Yearl o' Hume Proposed to take representatives of the two parties and test their pluck at foot ball." An exciting engagement took place on Carterhaugh plain, not far away from the confluence of the Etterlck and Yar row, and there all were present as specta tors occupying conspicuous positions. Dr. Russell gives a picture of the oontest, which went on all day and finished at dusk with a "draw." But times are changed since the day3 I write of, and footballers are changed with them. There are ministers, doctors, ohurch 'deacons, who enjoy a genuine foot ball match, but who would be ashamed if seen at the racetrack. For the sake of the game's longevity, it would be agree able to find the growing evil of betting more universally discouraged. A goodly proportion of the community can, how ever, enjoy the game without participa tion in this extraneous adjunct It is an excellent thing to see the deep seated public Interest in modern football. There is surely an abundance of good In an amusement that can, as this does, en gross the attention of the whole pountry for nearly six months In the. year. All classes in the community are interested n it; the sport already has a literature of its own, and everybody knows how high runs the healthful excitement over the work of the different clubs. There are no appreciable signs of any waning of the' public interest, and wo trust that our sons and our grandsons for many gen erations will continue to derive the same enjoyment from the sport that we of today are haying. LTJE VERNON. Per contra to the foregoing closing para graph, on the pleasures to be derived from witnessing or participating in foot ball, Mr. Vernon suggests this, to be pub lished, in the event of the losing of a game by the home team, by the home newspaper of a given locality, and which he terms: A Ready-Made View. "There seems to be no doubt that pub lic Interest In the game of football is rap idly on the decline In all parts of the country, and another season wW prob ably see the practical abandonment of this sport by professionals. It will then be relegated to the schoolboys, among whom it originated, and where it really belongs. There has never, been anything In the game worthy the attention of grown-up men, and that It should ever have at tained to the distinction of a national amusement is simply another manifesta tion of the case with which the commu nity can become bewitohed over an Idle craze. "There Is nothing elevating or amus ing about the game as now played, and never has been, and its whole influence has been 4emorahzIng In the extreme. Its tendency is in the direction of Idle ness, gambling and unhealthful excite ment, and the country will be better off, morally, physically and financially, when the degenerate sport shall be numbered among things of the past" Glass Pavement. . Perhaps the most curious street pave ment in the world is that which has re cently been put down in Lyons', France. It is of glass, the blocks being about eight inches square, each made up of 16 smaller blocks. The glass blocks are so tightly fitted together that water cannot pass be tween them. As a pavement glass is said to have greater resistance than stone. It is a poon conductor of pold, and Ice will not form, upoa it. HAS ABOUT RUN HIS RACE PASSING OF THE TRAMP PRINTER IN THE. MARCH OF PROGRESS. Vanquished "by the Linotype, He Is Being? Fast Relegated to tho Limbo of "Has Becns." The passing of the tramp printer has oeen slow but certain. He who once was lord of the city "case"; who could handle ,iu ujl ma i.tjr .a.ao , nuw wumu uu.uui anything on the copy hook, from an ed- Itorial down to a sparring match or a cock fight; who could set type, make it up In forms ready for the press, edit a column or a. first-page lead; who could do more work with lightning rapidity, find time for more rest, take more comfort and more-liquor, and tell more good stories than any other printer who ever lived, is almost of the past. He Is a relic of the days before the lynotype, and will soon be spoken of and regarded as a "char acter" a species of the genus homo be ' NOT SUCH A FOOL AS HE LOOKS. . i l' ram fiff(iwlI'if J'a' Visitor to lunatic aeylum which is undergoing structural improvements (to harmless luna tic who is extremely busy wheeling barrow upside down) You ought to turn that barrow the other way up. Harmless Lunatic (knowingly) I did yesterday, but they put bricks in It Phil May's "Winter Annual. longing distinctly "to the "last century." The tramp printer came and went ac cording to the seasons and the climate he preferred, which caused him to be regard ed aa a weather prophet, a sort of human barometer. He would come in to the composing-room after an absence of several' months, hang his battered hat on the hook he used last, take his place at a "case" with the composure that only a tramp printer knows, and look around for some copy or dea,d type, the same as if he had quit work there the morning before with the regular hands. "Spring's coming," one of the men would remark. "I see Doc Is back." As the tramp printer was always a good workman, his presence in the office was Invariably hailed with delight by the fore man. And toward midnight, when he an nounced that he was hungry and asked some one to loan him a "half" he was sure to get it, although the lender knew it would never be returned. Sometimes he was a wit; again he might be a pessimist but he always possessed a strong sense of humor and a mighty vocabulary. Eugene Field Described Him. Eugene Field, in answer to the question: ""What Is a printer?" once said: "A print er Is a man who sets type all night and throws dice for the drinks all day. If it wasn't for the night work, I should like to be a printer." The Chicago Tribune, in a recent article on the subject of tramp printers, tells of one of the guild, named Miller, a large and pompous man, with gray hair and who was known and liked by everybody in the Chicago composing-rooms. Miller, ac cording to the Tribune, was an uncertain quantity. He got to drinking so much during the day that he failed to work well at night One night he put on his hat and the old checked coat with which th weather of many a trip had played havoc, and announced that ho was going to take a tramp in some prohibition state. "It's the booze that knocks me galley west," he said. "I'm going to get out of It, though my season here la not quite up." The foreman, at whose suggestion the trip was contemplated, made no reply. "Don't suppose you'd let me stay my season out?" he queried. The foreman shook, his head. "It'll throw me out for a whole year to leave town now," he argued. The foreman asked a question: "Do you set German type, Miller?" . Miller scratched his head. 'Yes," he said. ' "Well, then, go to this address and get a job. Their German printer is sick. But don't say I sent you." ' It was the address of a weekly paper that had a German department Miller took It and went out Three days later the foreman left to accep.t a place further West How He Set German Type. The office saw nothing of Miller till hl3 "season" the following year. Then he walked Into his accustomed place, and, with a broad grin on his face and a cob pipe in his mouth, he told the following story: "When I came in that last .night you saw me, took off my hat end coat and started to hang them up, I found my nail driven in. Then I knew, of course, that I was 'fired,' and 'twas the first that was said to me about it. I hated to leave town, so I goes around to the German and gets the job. Didn't know I set German type? I don't Don't know even a word of Dutch, but 'a le rout' -over a glass of beer. "But I gets the job and goes to work like a dicknaller a-throwlng them Dutch letters together. I put, the copy up before me and let on to read' it and understand, and read my own proof and marked it up and not a single word in the whole batch of galleys, unless one got there by acoi dent. It was nothing but pi rich, fat, Juicy German pi. " was safe, for not a feller In the shop knew Dutch 'cept me. I did not have much time to get the work out in, but I did It, and they paid me extra and en gaeed me to work right along till the Dutchman got well. ''I knew It would not be healthy for me to stay around there after the paper came out, so on the day of publlcatlo)i, after-1 had drawn my pay,. I sent myself a telegram telling me my father was dy ing. A real telegram, boys, from the cen tral office, and It cost me 25 cents. When jthe messenger boy cam In with It I was at the officed distributing some Dutch stuff in the wrong boxes with all the fellers admiring my rapidity. "That telegram was a terrible shock to me, coming so sudden. You can Imagine yourself, what it would be to get word your father was dying when you, had sup posed him dead for years. I was so broke ,up over it that I couldn't work any more, naturally, so I went to the manager and showed him the telegram, and asked him to lend me $5 on my next week's pay, because the old folks mig)it need some thing. He had a father himself, and I was so worried that he loaned me the $o, and I put on my hat and coat and left the place. Woldn't Appreciate Him. "That was a good job. I'd like to have held It a whller but I didn't think they would appreciate me or my work after they heard from their German readers. I've often wondered what they said about my department, but I never went back to find out. You see, they might think it strange that I'm not wearing mourning." Miller was never known to buy for him self an artlole of wearing apparel, nor was he ever known to ask any one else to do it for him. "They just sorter know when I needs It," he said. "Sometimes my friends get me clothes and sometimes the Lord provides them. I needed a new shirt awful once, and hadn't the slightest idear J 6 where It was coming from, but on my next season round in Chicago the foreman called me in the first morning after work and told me to wait there, for he was- go ing out to get me a shirt I told him I never would have asked for It, but if he would persist against everything and buy me a shirt. I'd like to pick it out myself, being a little particular as to fit, you see. "I was more thirsty than in need of that shirt, and the foreman knew it, eo he had me wait. I didn't care, for I knew a good shirt 'would bring four drinks most any place. But that foreman was a fell er born to be hanged, though he wasn't When he came back and showed me a nice, clean, new white shirt I got thirstier than ever. But that feller Just shoved me In the washroom and Insisted that I put that clean shirt on then and there. So I did, knowing I could change it again mighty quick. I wrapped the old one up In a paper and laid it down while I searched around for a string, and that foreman took advantage of my exactness and threw that paper, shirt and all, in the fire, and It burned right before my eyes and me getting thirstier every sec ond. He Goes to Church. "That clean shirt almost proved my ruin, for it made me stuck up and too aristo cratic for the town. I decided I'd have to get a clean suit to go with it hut I wouldn't ask for it. "Out on the West Side, at Jackson boulevard and Lincoln street, they were building a new church, and me and three of the boy3 thought we'd go out and at tend a meeting. This was right after I heard my father was dying, boys, and under such feelings a man should want re ligion. So we goe.3 In late, and walks clean- up to the stage steps. They were all a-sfnglng something about 'Sinners Coming.' I thought of my pride in that clean shirt, and I says right out aloud, 'That's us.' "Say, you should have seen them people crowd around to do us honor. Gee! If you want to get treated vhite, go to a county fair horserace, or a church dur ing service, and call yourself a sinner. They asked how I was a sinner, and I told them I wa3 proud, and arrogant and vain of my worldly goods, and then all of us just broke down and cried. Couldn't help it boys. "We had heard they was planning a banquet for the church officers after the meeting, and sure enough they asked us in to eat And everytime they asked us a question between mouthfuls we says, Yes,' no matter what It was. So after the feed they takes us off and gives each some new clothes and a hat and takes us back to the party and stood us up and talked about us. and then they takes up a collection and gives each of us a fourth. I thought I'd go every week, so I told the prettiest lady so. "Finally they wanted some more chairs and I said I'd go and get them. I couldn't find the chairs. You see, I didn't look for them. The three boys may be at that meeting yet for all I know, for I've been so busy I never went back to see." When a. Feller Has the Blues. When a feller has the bluee, 'Hain't no use to aek his views 'Bout the country how it goes: ' Ef It hails, or et it enows Cotton up, or cotton down Worl' stopped still, or whlrlln' roun' Never keera fer any news That ere feller with the blueal' Sun may do his best to phine Blossoms purple on the vine; "Win's may sing in muslo sweet, , Rivera ripple at'hls feet; An' the birds the boughs along Jest may opht their throats with pong But he's lonesome as you choose That ere feller with the bluesl Where' d'they come from? Day by day. You kin see 'em on the way, Jest a-trudgin' "up the elope Drownln' all the bells of Hope I , Comln' In the door to chide you "Drawln4 up a chair beside ou, Sayln', "Hello! WTiafs the news?" Them exasperatln' blues! Then it is we know we're human Then It is the smile of woman Ja tho only welcome light That comes twlnklln' through the night! Ef that smile o hers has bound you; Ef you feel her arms around you, Be as happy as ycu choose. With "Good mornlnf " to the blues! Atlanta Constitution. HOW PLAYS ARE WRITTEN DIFFERING 3IETHOIS FOLLOWED BY VARIOUS DRAMATISTS. Some Use Puppets to Create Situa tions, While Others Henulre? No Such Aid, and All Work Hard. "How do dramatists write plays?" asks tho Ladies' Home Journal of a recent Is sue, and then the questioner proceeds to reply that it Is done In almost a3 many ways as there are dramatists. But, In one respect, the methods of dram atists hardly ever differ. They nearly all first make an outline of tho plot, charac ters and episodes- That is called a sce nario. Sometimes it includes the salient points only. Sometimes it goes Into minute details. Anyway, It shapes and forms the entire play. "By this time the author," continues the Journal, "has studied the possibilities of his theme and decided what his characters shall do. He has learned by experience that his work I3 more difficult than that of the novelist. He must not describe things, but present them. He may resort to narrative only at the risk of losing the attention of an audience. A play of words and not of deeds 13 like the proverbial "gar den full of weeds.' The personages will not amount to much. If they merely talk. They mu3t show their traits, motives and intentions In action. The soliloquy Is, therefore, not In favor with the modern playwright "These conditions impose long and hard labor upon even the geniuses among writ ers for the stage. More time and thought are often spent on a scenario than in writ ing out the play. It may be said that a drama of the first class Is a good year's ktask. Keep Characters In View. "The playwright must keep his charac ter plainly before him all the while. It Is essential that he shall know where they are. whether active or Idle. Whenever they stir it should mean something. An In definite movement may spoil the effect which he Intends to make. The audienca sees quite 33 much as it hear3. One 'of our well-known authors sets small puppets on a miniature stage and moves them about In no other way can he keep the situations clearly in mind while devising and developing them. "Another man of equal renown needs no such signs or tokens. The scene In every deta'I Is vivid to him without any aids. Others make notes on diagrams. Still others use whatever small things happen to be at hand. An old Jacknlfo and a pair of scissors were the hero and heroine of a certain famous drama during all the time that It was being written. "One expert In stagecraft, who happens to bo also a devotee of chess, works out the action on a chessboard. He fancies that he Is helped in that way to solve tho problems of his plot He opposes his forces of good and evil, plays them against each other and wins final victories for the right Nonsense? Not if it facilitates his work. His fancy requires incitement "At the other extreme may be mentioned a man who never has to make so muca as a dot on paper to assist his memory as to the action. He has his troubles of another kind. He Is compelled to guard himself against confusion and Inconsisten cies in the various Inteiests of the play In hand. He makes diagrams of them, showing their starts and stops,, rises and falls, contacts and separations. Thus ha sees their proportions and builds them up or pulls them down to suit their relative importance. "This diagram, becomes an elaborate chart as work progresses. It Is clear to him, If. to nobody else. It guides him In keeping his principal character dominant and his minor ones subordinate. By means of It he moves everything toward that cli max which every successful drama must reach. "What tho actors do besides speaking the words of the play Is called the 'busi ness.' The old-fashioned way was to In sert that word in the copy at points where special action was required. The particu lars were given at the rehearsals. More Explicit Now. "Nowadays tho author Is more explicit In hi3 manuscript He prescribes tho movements that each character shall make. Nothing 13 left to chance, nor to the actor's choice. When he Is to sit and when to stand, when he is to go and how long to stay, what feeling he Is to show when silent, what degree of emotion he Is to express when speaking all these di rections are set down. "Some authors tell, also, how tho per armmrPQ should Took. A Daragraph de scribes each individual much as a novelist does it. though very briefly and concisely. This is frequently extended to the color of a woman's eyes and hair. She must bo tall or short, slim or stout, pretty or ugly, as best serves the purpose. In short, the writer of stage fiction tries hard to have his characters look and behave exactly a3 he wishes them to. His design may ba carried out. "That depends. He may be eminent and obdurate enough to have his own way. In that case his contracts stipulate that not so much as a word shall bechanged without his consent The manner of the acting, also, must be obedient to his or ders. He also may be able to dictate tho tlmo when the play shall be presented, and the theater, too. The selection of actors may require his approval, and his authority may extend to rehearsals." CANNON 6F PRECIOUS METAL Extravagant Fancy of the Gailtwaff of Baroda, in India. Tho Galkwar of Baroda, an Indian prince, who still rules under British suzerainty, has a great and gorgeous palace at Carcoda, and seven miles out o tho city, at Makarpura, a hunting Iodgo or summer palace. A bodyguard of 130 strong men, mounted on handsome gray Arabian chargers, and dressed like Aus trian hussars. la posted about his palace, and with It a battery of artillery consisting of gold and silver guns. There are four guns two of gold and two of silver. The gold guns wera made in 1S74, by an artisan Ct Lakha. who worked on them for five years. They weigh 4C0 pounds each, and, except for the steel lining, are of solid gold. They ara mounted on gun carriages of carved wooa, overlaid with silver. Each gun Is drawn by the finest team of bullocks which Ba roda can furnish- The horns of these bul locks are incased, in silver and gold, and they wear gold and silver anklets around their forelegs. On their heads aro "mohadas," or head pieces, of the same metals. Their trappings are of KIncob and Belhl work, and altogether the dec orations of each team of bullocks are worth J35.CCO. The silver guns were made by the sam men as the gold ones, and are like them, except that they are a trifle smaller, and weight only 250 pounds each. The limbers and carriages of the silver guns are cov ered .with brass, which shines like gold, and frequently Is mistaken for that metal. In 1S76, when the Maharajah Kalkwar went to Bombay to meet tho Prince of Wales, he took the gold guns with him to salute the prince- This Is the only occa sion on which they have been allowed to leave the state of Baroda. When, Lord Dufferin was viceroy of India, he paid a 3tato visit to the gaikwar, and waa salute cd by tho silver guca. Jv