The Sunday Oregonian., August 12, 1900, PART THREE, Page 28, Image 28

2S
THE SUNDAY OKEGOlttAN, PORTLAND", AUGUST 12, 1900.
HIS FRIEND, THE EPICURE
TRIBULATIONS OF A SOJOURNER AT
THIS SEASHORE.
Quiet Meditation Disturbed by a
Self-invited Guest of the Gor-
sxandizins Sort.
My friend, the Epicure, dropped la on
ne quite unexpectedly, a few days ago,
to share the beatitude of my beach
revels and to prey upon my Summer
menu. The programme of my table
d'hote Is really less hospitable than was
my invitation, a circumstance that does
not speak commendlngly of my board,
for he got no invitation at all. But
now he is here I shall do my best to feed
him, although I may suffer the throes
of Mafcklng in so doing.
Like the fool that I am, I was at the
station the day he came. If the fates
allow. I shall never go again until I leave.
It's positively dangerous, even If one is
only casually acquainted with the world,
to meet an incoming train, for the person
Is recognized by newcomers on every side
and counted as if he were of some con
sequence. Well, I was green that day, so thajt
zay extempore friend found it a "tapi
oca" to take me in. I took him In with
the utmost solicitude. But my Epicure
had a few extenuating compunctions of
conscience, of which lie made me confi
dant. Notwithstanding his doubts and
demurs that he was doing right In abus
ing my hospitality, I assured him that
he was more than welcome to the scanti
ness of what meager entertainment he
could pick up. He seemed satisfied with
this assurance, though more with It than
with his victuals. He was a partner to
my notion that the meal programme was
a curtal one, but he did not express it,
and contented himself with other eu
phemistic indications.
An Euphemistic Indication.
One of these was that after he had
devoured all In sight, and after all the
fluids had pursued their purling way
down his Internal economy, he assidu
ously licked his chops for more. Keally.
I pitied the poor fellow sometimes, so
importunate was the summons from with
in and so limited my facilities for an
swering it with satisfaction. I am in
clined to think that Neptune Is no gen
tleman. If he were one, he would be
more -considerate. The way he whets peo
ple's appetites Is an outrage against civ
ilized society, and fitting only to the time
of which Homer sang.
A character. Indeed, is my Epicure. The
benignity of his beaming physiognomy
it is a rare treat to bask In a treat
which somewhat recompenses for his ele
phantine presence that is. if the clouds
of one's impatience do not shut off the
benignity. The periphery of his visage,
like the circumference of a wheel, fes
tooned with pendulous purslness, be
speaks that he weathered the storms of
hard times with unabated sleeklness, and,
as I can testify, with unabated gusto.
Such has been the Industry of sedulous
Nature, she does not have a cranny left
throughout Ills surcharged and surfeited
corpulency in which to store more re
serves for a rainy day. She has, there
fore, made his cheeks a temporary depot
until she -can find unoccupied territory
in his anatomy. A net result of her as
siduity is that the surcingle waistband
of my guest's trousers has attained pro
digious amplitude, so prodigious that the
boing within it long since gave up box
coats.
A sort of an anomaly an enigma Is
this girth. Th theory of the circle
sterns completely disproved. The diame
ter silhouette of his Apollo Belvedere
symmetry does not bear out the formula
of the circle at all, such disproportion Is
there between the distances through and
around him. As would be regarded Inevi
table with those rich stores amassed upon
his face, his expression is deeply sulcated.
In sinuous folds which secrete themselves
on a hot day and have to be pampered
with a red bandana.
An Efficient Condjntor.
His puckery Is an efficient coadjutor of
Ills good ,naturc. This It 1? -v hich per
mits his countenance to expand, which
telescopes and draws out Into a benign
smile. Really, the evolution Is a mar
vel to witness, insomuch as the beholder
wonders what direction each line Is go
ing to take, and whether the folds and
festoons will resume their serenity again
after the operation. Apprehension, how
ever. Is unwarranted. Each Item of his
features returns to Its wonted station,
without the disaster prepense with the
observer.
Marvelous as is his smile, quite as in
teresting is his laugh. The flufflncss of
his cheeks resolves itself into twin bal
loons, drawing more generously from the
chin reserves even than his smile. How
large these balloons might get. if It were
not for his upper set of misfit teeth,
which have an alarming propensity to
drop at unguarded moments, it is Impos
sible to foretell. But his cnutlon has not
ret been neglected, although several
times the soughing course of the whis
pering zephyrs up and down his wind
pipe has been almost painfully inter
rupted. His A-igllance is probably born
af experience, for I never heard him
laugh In the ordinary manner. Instead
81 with mouth ajar, his manifestations
of pleasure are muffled like air through
th blacksmith's bellows.
My micst Is endowed with a variegated
assortment of heirlcoms. in the form of
foibles, whiffets and whimseys. These
hr.ve flowed down his family ever since
his initial illustrious ancestor, who. I am I
inclined to believe, was Apollo himself.
Most of them are of the bestial category. 1
nna nave aircauy ee sunuueu, uaus
the primal ingredients of an animal. In
deed, you cannot look upon him as any
thing but such, if you sit at table with
him.
The Animal Hypothesis.
From the standpoint of the animal hy
pothesis, he himself Is a most corroborat
ing object. fGr his body Is voluptuous and
has capacity to enjoy all the superla
tive delights he has ever conceived of;
his intellectual manifestations are also
corrvborauvc. He has a tittle or two of
moral and spiritual Ingredients, but only
a tittle, and a thimbleful and a half of
bruins, the latter moiety of which keeps
him from getting down on all fours. He
is all sensuality, without sensuousnesj: 1
has no power of thought or depth of ,
fueling, but Is all Instincts which, being 1
graced with a carnal habitation, are at
peace with each other and the ivorld.
It may be I am a queer sort of an In
dividual, hut I never could abide certain
things. For instance, it makes my nerves
crisp to hear snores reverberating among j
the rafters at midnight. It also rasps
my sensibilities to listen to strident shoes
all the day long. My guest martyrs me in
both respects. His effort to draw breath
is tremendous, anl. confidentially. Is his
only severe exercise Nature, although
strangely good to him. has hard work to
keep him alive, and at night, when the
burden of living res's entirely upon her,
she needs must be alert.
But whether cr not my friend performs
the labor at night, or whether or not na
ture keeps nrctur-al vigil is an extraneous
enigma which. I may annotate, troubles
him less than anybody, and he never fails
to repair the attrition, by morning, both of
body and wit. I have wedged all the
windows today and removed loose crock
ery from the shelves an operation which
I hope will tend to abate the nuisance.
A Terrible Ordeal.
I shall not conclude this chapter of my
record without noting the terrible ordeal
to which my guest's shoes were sub
jected. Not by soaking the soles all
night could he drown their sorrows. At
every step they remonstrated obstrep
erously against being made to carry so
great a mountain of flesh. From afar, as
harbingers of his approach, sounded forth
their waillngs. If it were not that he
consults his legs pretty often, -which like
wise receive an undue portion of my
pity, I think his shoes would cry them
selves to death. But when they are
manumitted from thrall, you may think
my ear ceases to be assailed.
Not so. There is always some squeak
about him. Something is always groan
ing. When all else Is composed In
peace, his collar takes up the tune to the
time of his laborious breathing. Good
ness, what a strain it can stand with
out rupture! But It pents up the festoons
of his purslness with full many a sigh.
Notwithstanding what I have said, my
Epicure is no noodle nor nincompoop,
however much his brain supply Is lim
ited, or engaged with the functions of
his anatomy. On demand, he can cba
meleonlze himself with exceeding urban
ity, taking on the hue of every compan
ion, no matter how variegated the com
pany. In the presence of ladles the gen
tleman's transformation Is most remark
able. Away from their society he is
a crabbed autumnal bachelor who labors
at cynicism and preaches against fe-
MEN. IN THE
' ' ''ie:'3 V 7" J? ' '
ARTHUR. PUGH GORMAN.
males as creatures to be abhorred; but
with them, he Is exceedingly attentive
and officious. Actually.i he can wax sen
timental at times. In the pale glow of tho
moon, or within sound of the ocean's
murmur, he can hum madrigals of love
and sing namby-pamby ditties as gallant
as any-
Verses and nonsensical nonentities he
can simper like a clown things which, by
the magic of the moon, are charming to
ladies. In the phosphorescent glow of the
waves, he can sit -with a spinster on tho
sand, against a log, tune his voice as
gallants do, and outline quivers and doves
and darts and Cunlds for her to em
broider en her handkerchief.
With married women ho is Immensely
taking. He. has many a sly pleasantry
to whisper, under cover of his ampla lat
itude, whereby he evokes many an equiv
ocal titter or tap of reproach- In. short,
he Is a. honied and suave gentleman such
as only women like, despite he Is a gor
bellled knave.
But, oh my! What a sabl3 hue does
my chameleon take on after these senti
mental interviews. In sight of gods and
men, but he is metamorphosed!
He has a wonderfully large fund of
stories, which are in two categories
those which are fit to be told and those
which are not. The former category he
cites with passing readiness a readiness
that would bem6re-jxisslngi were they his
own, and not Bill Nye's. The desidera
tum Is right here my Epicure Is fat, and
Bill Nye was thin. Therefore what facil
ity the former has shows itself best In
fat Jokes. Friends who read this and
Innocents, always beware of a fat man
who tells stories; that Is, unless you are
a churchman.
My chameleon's anecdotes are seme of
them amusing, but" my other guest; the
Deacon, makes himself scarce, when he
sees the tint of indecency growing deep
er. The fact Is, my Epicure Is a complete
example of the declension In gay life, by
which a young man of pleasure is apt tc
cool down into an obscene old gentle
man. r j ,
A Third Catetroryj
I have forgotten a -third category' which
Is of once-told tales" and comprises
records of feasts It has been his
beatitude to partake' of. Like ghosts,
they flit before his recollection. He can
savor his recital well, and to hear him
tell of the refections and collations which
have formed the major part of his life's
happiness Is as relishing as Worcester
shire or ketchup.' His recollection of
gourmandlzing happiness, although the
event Is a generation past, brings -the
savor of roast beef and chicken under
one's very nostrils. His palate retains
flavors which have rested there so long
that the ones who shared them with him
have been long since food for worms.
These specters of his recollection are not
menacing ghosts. In angry retribution, but
good-natured phantoms, grateful of his
past and -continued appreciation , " ,
There is a good deal ef flummery.anft
mummery about the imagination of my
Epicure. The puppets of his reverie take
amazing turns at times, now following
the clammy clam" and sometimes the
crabbed crab In their devious wanderings.
Twenty-four hours is too long a day at
the beach, as we have discovered, and
frequently his puppets avail to entertain
the ennui. In several respects, he is a
true epitome of the gentleman, scholar
and Christian, in their figurative signifi
cations. Moreover. I will testify that he
is a good judge of whisky. He is the
latter because he Is an old warrior.
By this I do not mean that he is, or ever
was, a soldier bold and used to war's
alarms, or Is. in any sense, a veteran of
the sen-ice of Mars. I mean that he Is a
veteran of the service of Cupid. If facts
coincide with his autoblogn-phlc eulogies,
he was prince of Romeos and Rangers Jn
his day, than whom there was not within
the four corners of Uncle Sam's domin
ions a more ardent, impassioned, musky
or perfumed lover. t 1 '
Friends, now you have It I have writ
ten this exposition that I may show you
how completely occupied my hospitality
is. I want you to know the tribulations
of a beach sojourner who Is at the coast
for his health. I want you to know by
contrast what are the ideal attributes
of a host HTid guest and how they each
should supplement the other. I want you
to know that If you pile yourselves in on
me. you run your own risk. I want you
to know what the necessities of the hour
are in a sojourner who would succeed in
the devious ways of seashore life.
And this, above-all: When you go to
the beach, do you do as I shall do here
after be friendless.
SELTOGABALUS.
FAMINE'S WOEFUL LEGACY
HALF A MILLION ORPHANS IN INDIA
IX NEED OF HEM. -
Although Rain Has Come to Stricken
District, Christendom. Has Tet
to Do a Miffhtx Task. "
News by cable from India's Viceroy,
the Governor of Bombay and other otn
cials, from American missionaries and
from newspaper correspondents, show a
general rainfall In the famine-stricken
districts of India, and that .the prospects
are brighter than at any time -previously
for the past two years. This means that
the gaunt, woeful, hideous figure of fam
ine is being literally drowned. River
beds which for 24 months have been
bared to the sky and baked by the sun
PUBLIC EYE.
I . '
tm rocK-nara, are now gradually sonen
lng into their natural muddlness. Streams
are manifesting signs of life. Tho water
In the few wells which were not -drained
by the long drought is growings deeper,
and - fields, -meadows, farm's, grazing
grounds, garden plots In fact, the whole
parched earth are givingpromlse of gen
erous fertility, as in the years gone by.
But these are, after all, only signs and
promises, which, while restoring hope to
the hearts of the stricken millions, must
npt be taken as meaning that the famine
is at an end. Famine -may be dying, but
she Is not yet dead. She ' still stalks
abroad In all the western and- central
provinces of India, and for at least three
months to come she will continue 'her
deadly work: '
As the cause of the awful distress -and
desolation was lark of ram, It will take
a very long, steady rainfall to restore
the ground to a- condition "rich enough5 to
yield. With the exception' of a one-hour
shower on July 20 of last year, the pres
ent rainfall Is the first that Western
India has known for four and twenty
months. Hence, not until rain has fallen
continuously for weeks and weeks will
the ground be sufficiently soaked 'and
softened to insure the raising of a crop.
Moreover, millions of head of cattle In
deed, 90 per cent of all the cattle have
died for want of fodder, and farmers will
remain tied hand and foot till the gov
ernment supplleirnew livestock to replace
the old, whose bones lie scattered the.
country over.
Still Desperate Need.
Desperate distress still exist3. Utter
desolation is still the lot of millions. If
the Indian Government were now to with
draw its aid and close relief work and
the poorhouses; If American contributions
wore now to cease and missionaries to
stop their work, 10,000,000 homeless, help-
l T
'TEN UNSPEAKABLE SORROWS,'
Events Foretold by Boxers of
Pao Ting Fu,
Last Aprllhe Chinese Boxers issued a placard, at Pao Ting Fu, call
ing for certain religious observances and containing a list of what was
denominated ther"Ten Unspeakable Sorrows." The terrible events which
have recently occurred In China were clearly .foretold in the Boxers' plac
ard, a translation" of which appears below:
In the presence vof the Revered Mother, the Goddess of Mercy.
This year belng-pne4of rapine, and swordsmen being a peculiar evil, the
myrlfold Holy 'due has descended to earth and the good and the evil are to
receive speedy- retribution, since the multitude have ceased to believe In
Buddha .and arefunflllal toward the parents.' High, Heaven Is dispatching In
its anger a million-spiritual soldiers to reward the good and punish the evil.
By Jburnlng Incense night and day and practicing filial piety an entire fam
ily may escape the biUerness of the sword. ' But whatever family may set
,- their hearts, to revlUy thp gods and to neglect filial behavior toward father
and mother 'that'fa.mily wj". be cut off and will fall Intp perdition. Should
the people continue In unbelief there will follow hereafter ten unspeakable
sorrows:
First' Sorrow-Incense burning will ceas,a throughout the Empire.
Second Sorrow Blood will flow and fill the streams of all the hills.
Third Sorrow Grain and meal wil'be as refuse.
Fourth Sorrow All the living will be Invplved in Iniquity.
Fifth Sorrow The roads will be without passengers. - - .
Sixth Sorrow Homeless orphans and .widows ,wlll speak, of the dwell
ing places.
Seventh Sorrow There will be none to protect from rapine .
Eighth Sorrow All the living will enter the Yellow Springs.
Ninth Sorrow Disease and distress' will affect the people.
Tenth Sorrow There will be no peacef ul. years. v
Issued under the light of the Red Lainp, at Su. Chlhol If those who see
this paper circulate It Immediately they wIH escape the suffering on the
sword. -
------ 0HM0MMMMMt
less people would bein imminent dangT
of starving to death. Furthermore, since
the rain has come scores of tnousands
w ho have been saved from death by star
vation are threatened with death by ex
posure. Blankets and clothing are scarce,
only about one person In every thousand
possessing a half-way decent garment.
Meanwhile, Famine has written her will
on the face of the land. She is leaving
Christendom a legacy m the form of hun
dreds of thousands of homeless, helpless
orphans. The million men and women
who, after indescribable suffering, have
succumbed since the famine began, not
only to starvation, but to fever, plague
and cholera besides, have left fully half
'3. million fatherless, motherless children.
-Dr. Louis Klopsch, editor of the Chris
tian Herald, of New York, -which paper
has hod charge of the India famine relief
work in this country, and who has re
cently returned from a tour of inspec
tion of the vast famine area- of India,
says In this connection:
"I can truthfully write that of all the
sad sights to be. seen in the famine dis
trict the most pitiable is the starving
child. Not a few, but tens of thousands,
are, wandering along the highways, waifs
of a desert country. Hying drift-chips on
a shoreless sea. TheTr "mothers and fath
ers have died of starvation, and now
they have not a soul h the world to turn
to no kith, no kin,, .not a single heart
among, their own people to look after
them.7 y
It is to the Tescueof these orphans,
waifs from the highway of death Itself,
that the missionaries devote a large part
of their working hours. Once Inside a
mission compound, the poor, little starve
ling. If-care and food have not come too
late, i$ supported by funds sent to the
missionaries by the American people.
"Among the many starving orphan chil
dren gathered in from the fields by Dr.
, Taylor and his wife, missionaries at
Ahmedabad, " writes Dr. Klopsch, there
came one little girl who insisted on en
tering the house. She came into the li
brary, and. after a brief look about.
f Jllsped In her "own tongue," 'Please may I
die here?' and then threw herself down
bn the floor and went to -sleep.' It Is grat-
iij ui iu uuu mill, uie luujj biccj o.uu lho
hot" milk afterward "g'lven to this child
saved her from -death.
-Pitiable Spectacleur
. "Even in the streets of Bombay," con
tlnucs'the doctor" there are hundreds of
famine, children wandering about. With
sunken eyes, hollow cheeks and indented
temples, with weary, weak, skeleton legs,
they totter, by the dozen, in the foot
steps of the, European crying 'Salaam,
S?hlb,' whch Js., their way of saying
Peace tQ you!' "Then, slapplng'thelr hol
lo wjind '.naked "stomachs to emphasize
their- rieod of food, they continue their
plteoqs supplications, begging for enough
food ,t0 keep them alive just another
hour.' '
"S.ojrfetlmASj a, mother accosts one, a
baheln her .arm's, ' trying its best to get
foo4 -from the dry, parched broast, and
thl 'matter' also entreats you, saying:
'Givd'us sotriethlng to eat, and God wltl
bless you wlfh many children.' The group
of yralts about her cling as if by Instinct
vto hey- Scant, ragged skirt, as if they
felt: that since this woman Is mother to
the babe, she will act also as a kind
mother tor an. who snuggle up to her."
Saying the children in famine time, ac
cording, to "Dr. Klopsch, is one of the
most''-encouraglng phases of relief work,
whlleto see children starve, to know
-thai,, they, -the helpless ones, cannot bo
'I. . -fl.1. A A-.. m....... .31 V... I..M.n frit.
UUIJJUU, UUll- 111C 1I1U31 U1C u 1111-11GO lui
want of fopcl is, says ho, "a condition of
affairs that wrings the heart."Thousands
of these orphans are now In the. hands
of American missionaries, having been
plucked by ,lhem from the jaws of tho,
f amine,- -but they must soon.be turned out
to starve unlessrihe. missionaries receive
the'ipeans to purchase food for them.
But whence is to come the money for
tlie, support, of these helpless little ones?
A plan for the solution of this problem
has, "been formed by Dr. Klopsch. He
says;
- Plan of Relief.
"Living expenses In India are light,
The expense, of caring for the 500,000 or
phans while stupendous In, the aggregatCj
Is yet easily within reach, when consid
ered one by one. It is not to be expected
that any one person should assume tho
whole responsibility, yet every one can
do something. Five cents every work
ing day, or 30 cents a week, will clothe,
feed; shelter and Instruct a child, and
there ar& but few people who cannot un
dertake the responsibility for one child
giving part themselves and collecting the
balance from friends and neighbors. To
evep;1person"6o"contrlbuting "will be given
the' name, and address of the orphan for
wnom they h'ave assumed responsibility,
and once every three months they will
receive an English letter from India,
either from the child or from Its teacher,
reporting the progress it Is making., I
am sura the charitable, sympathetic peo
ple of'-our prosperous country will prove
equal to the occasion, and that tens of
thousands of famine waifs will be saved
for lives of Christian Influence."
Dr. Klopsch's paper will receive all
pledges to this end, and will Cable the
money to India free of all expense, and
weekly reports of pledges 'will he cabled
at the same t,me. This course will ena
ble, the missionaries to , take, promptly
and quickly, as many children as there
are pledges.
CONFUCIAN NOMENCLATURE
Odd Significance of Geographical
Names in Chinese.
EachjOf the treaty powers was permit
ted by "the Son of Heaven" to choose its
own Chinese name. England Is Ylng
Kwo, "the flourishing country." France
is Fa Kwo, ','the law-abiding country."
Germany is Te Kwo, "the virtuous coun
try." Italy Is I Kwo, "the country of
justice.1' Japan Is either Jl Kwo, "the
land of the sun," or Jl Pen, "the land of
the rising sun." "
. This Republlc-Is .N el Kwo, or "the beau
tiful country." When 'the Stars and
Stripes was first seen in- the harbor of
China In a Placard Issued at
In April Last.
Cantph the natives flocked to the shore
and hailed It as the Kwa Kee Cheun, or
"the, flower-flag ship." The Chinese popu
lace from time to this speak of an Amer
ican as a Kwa Kee Kwoh Yin "the coun
tryman of the flower flag."
There are no proper names in Chinese
without a distinct meaning. All foreign
nafynes when written in Chinese acquire a
slgniflcan.ee, and often a curious one.
"Yankee Doodle" and Washington are
perhaps the most remarkable. The two
Cbiies3 characters Yank Kee happen to
signify "the flag of the ocean." The Chi
nese hayc no "d," and "Yankee Doodle"
must be written "Yan-"kee-too-te-lee, "the
flag of the ocean, sovereign people of the
world." Washington Is no less happy In
his transition iet Chinese, for Wo Shing
Tung, as 1 is -written, 'signifies "rescue
and glory at last."
SWALLOWED BY THE DEEP
"HORROR OF THE HEADS" FINDS.
AT LAST, A WATERY GRAVE.
'T-nraa "Neither Brute Ifor Human'
but When It Ended Its Career,
Two Women Were Glad.
It was one of those days of perfect
calm, rare even in that land of Nowhere
edging the "sundown sea." The soft
grey of trie sky was" like the down on
the breast of a brooding dove. The ocean
slept, laid under the spell of an en
chantment that Is only potent in that
"moon when the winds are still." There
Was a strange silence in the air, and
Nature was holding her breath to listen
to the voice. Down along the beach the
surf made a white fringe for the shore.
MEN IN THE
,-fuiwWSsii)
ADIiAI EWING STEVENSON, DEMOCRATIC
CANDIDATE.
and to the north the headlands that we
called The Cape," rose steeply and tall
to accentuate the solitude. Where the
sand dunes melted Into the distance
southward, Point Arago loomed a ten
der, purple shadow, in a sea of trans
lucent silver.
"How sUH it is," said Neja, with a
sigh. It'was the flrst time she had spok
en In an hour, and it cost me an effort
to reply. I moved slightly upon my
couch of matted huckleberry bushes, In
order to bring her face within range of
vision.
"Blissfully still," I asented.
"It is oppressive." She stood up and
turned her eyes, full of troubled gloom,
toward the towering headlands. "Let us
go to the Cape; we have just time to
make it before dark, and"
"And, what? Oh, Neja, I am so com
fortable!" But I rose, nevcrthele3S.
When she proposed anything, I alwajs
acquiesced, in the end. But I wondered
why she wanted, to go to .the Cape. We
had been, qut upon the hills overlooking
the sea since early morning, just idling,
as we were so given to doing on days
like this.
On the Beach.
Wo slipped down the steep face of tho
sand jSluff, and swung away up the
smoothVhard beach. It was eight miles
to the cabin at tho Cape, but the tide
was out and euwer&,' used to walking.
Once Neja, in that otherwise silent jour
ney, caught my arm and pointed to the
seawall, half a mile away, across tne
shifting sands.
"What Is It?" I cried, under my breath.
She dropped my, arm and moved for
ward again. - y
"Nothing," she said: ."I thought I saw
somethlhg stirring. off there near those
twisted pines, but I must have been mis
taken." There was perhaps half an hour of
daylight left us, when wo reached the
cabin and .found ' the key in its place
under the loose board, and let ourselves
In. We went together to the brook, which
was at some distance, to All the water
cans. Tlusre "was" plenty of driftwood at
hand-ahdw made a Are and prepared
our frugal -'supper. Then Neja locked
the door and barred the window, and we
went to bed so dellclously tired that just
to rest was a joy ordinarily unknown to
mortals.-
It must have been somewhere near the
middle of the night that I. was torn from
the thrawl of a sleep - too deep for
dreams, to And myself suddenly wide
awake. By some swift intuition, I knew
that Neja also was awake, though she
neither moved nor spoke. The muffled
thunder of the surf was the only sound
that broke the settled silence of the
night, and yet we both knew that we
should hear another, and a nearer, and
we listened breathlessly.
How long we lay, with every sense
alert, we had no means of reckoning,
but at last It came that for which we
waited a soft, padded footfall, passing
slowly from one end of the uncovered
veranda to the other, and back again.
Then there was a long interval, suc
ceeded by a stealthy fumbling at the
latch. But the lock was strong and the
key Inside, for which I quietly returned
thanks to favoring Providence.
Further Alarm.
We were beginning to feel secure, and
I was on the "point of voicing my relief,
when suddenly, from the steep slope
above tho cabin, came a cry a cry so
wild "and wierd and full of half-human
pain, that our hearts stopped beating.
Scarcely had It-died away. In a pltepus
wall, e'er a burst of laughter, just out
side the door, broke the stillness. It was
like the joyless mirth of demons, gloating
over the anguish of a lost soul. Though
I should live to be a 100 years old, i
shall carry the memory of that fiendish
laugh with me to the grave. And yet
instinctively we clutched each other, in
the very desperation of our fear It was
not the flrst time that our blood had
been curdled by that horrible sound.
Once before, as tonight, we had awak
ened suddenly to listen, and we knew
that bolts and bars were of no avail
against tho stalking terror of the dark.
Onco before but that is another story
a mystery which, to this day. remains
unsolved.
Somehow we lived through- the long
hours, and with. the. miracle of the dawn
our courage returned.
"It was the same- cry." I said, and she
replied:
"The very same, and the laughs Thank
heaven! it was not repeated this time,"
We ate our simple breakfast, put the
cabin to Tights, and went out upon the
trail, aimlessly climbing till we came to
a lofty cliff overhanging the sea. It was
deathly quiet up there, when the winds
were housed, and we wandered away
from the trail and sat down waist-deep in
the strong, salt-fragrant grass, and
dwarfed sallal, on the very "edge of
nothing," as Neja put It.
Content.
"I could stay here forever," I re
marked, gazing dreamily off toward the
line of silver gray that marked the meet
ing place of sea and sky.
"Listen." cried Neja, Ignoring my re
mark. "Did you hear that?"
"It was only a gull, or a seallon."
PUBLIC EYE.
VICE - PRESIDENTIAL
"No, it came from the hilltop, up there"
She pointed to the heavy timber that
made a gloom against the sky.
"It seemed to," I replied, "but you
know how deceptive sounds are In this
calm weather."
I leaned over and tried to look down
to where the restless waves were lashing
the rocks three hundred feet below, but
Neja drew me back.
"Don't! if you should fall!" she cried.
I laughed lightly. "Imagine my de
scent; I wouIdgo straight to the bottom
of the sea. 'full forty fathoms under,' I
haven't a doubt."
But I drew back, nevertheless. Life
was too sweet in those days to risk the
chance of losing it in that fashion. I
had just settled myself In a more secure
position, when we heard again the scream
that had flrst alarmed Neja, and although
I could not say from whence It came, it
seemed to come from above. I was sure
that It was neither gull or seallon. Neja
suggested panthers, and I was more than
half of the same mind. Anyway, we were
seized with a sudden yearning for home,
and began, rather has"tlly, to retrace our
steps.
The trail wound down Into a narrow
ravine and out again across the steep
face of the hill. We were rounding this
curve, when , there came a repetition of
the cry that had started us homeward.
A Startling Apparition.
Involuntarily we paused to look back.
There, bounding down the ridge of the
long slope across the ravine, we beheld
a figure that, to our startled eyes, was
"neither brute nor human," but a hor
rible suggestion of both. And even as
we gazed, In the fascination of terror,
the monster reached the cliff, and with
ope mighty, sidelong leap, high Into the
air, went over the verge, down, down,
to the soundless depths of the sea.
I turned to Neja. The tears were
streaming down her cheeks. She put out
her hand and clasped mine. "Let us
thank God," she said, fervently, "that we
have 3cen the end and know now that th
captive soul. Is free."
"Oh, Neja!'" I cried, "that was"
"The Horror of the Heads."
I returned the pressure of her hand,
and we hastened down the trail and
out upon the beach, looking back, from
time to time. Though the "Horror" would
haunt the Heads no more, we had no
mind to spend another night In the cabin
at the Cape.
JSCHEN M. MILLER.
Chinese Chow-Chow.
This Is how a Chinese writer describes
New Zealanders In a Chinese paper:
"They live months without eating a
mouthful of. rice; they eat bullocks and
sheep In enormous quantities with knives
and prong8,They never enjoy tnemselves
by sltttosr quietly on their ancestors'
graves, but jump around and kick balls
as If paid for It, and they have no dig
nity, for they may be found walking
with women." Allahabad Pioneer.
"It seems to me that It would be no
trouble at all to see through Chinese
diplomacy," observed the heavy - set
boarder.
Of courso the inquisitive boarder asked
the necessary question, whereat the
heavy-set man explained:
"Because there are so many Chinks
In It." Baltimore American.
"I suppose that Is considered a fine
specimen of Chinese art." said the visitor.
"It Is," answered the attache of the
museum.
"All that queer disregard f. perspective
seems perfectly natural to them?"
"Perfectly."
"Well, it explains what has long been
a mystery to my mind. I don't profess
to know much about art nor about mil
itary matters, but if that is the way those
Chinese soldiers see things. I don't won
der they can't learn to shoot straight."
Washington Star.
"I don't suppose there Is anything really
civilized about those Chinese Boxers."
"I guess not. Why?"
"I was just wondering If the old-timers
among them always" opened up Chinese
saloons." Cleveland Plain Dealer.
VICEROY LI mm CHANG
STRONG PERSONALITY OF CHINA'S
LEADING STATESMAN.-
Bent With. Inflexible Pnrpose t
Maintenance of the Poller ot
"China for Chinese.
The most eminent Chinaman In China
U Hung Chang-Is pure Chinese in des
cent. This may sound "like soylns that
truth Is truth, but, as a matter of fact,
tho rulers of China are Manchus and
Tartars, and not Chinamen at all.
LI Hung Chang's success, aside fronj
his Intellectual gifts, which are great;
Is perhaps partly due to his great stat
ure, six feet two Inches, a height sel
dom reached by Chinamen, and by his
ability to raise a heavier beard than
usual In a country whore the beard is
the only posse3ion of tho white man thai!
the Chinaman envies.
Li's person is large and bulky, and
when he was a young man man he must
have possessed remarkable physical
strength. Even In his old age ha carries
himself in a manner that shows plcntr
of resorvo strength; his bearing Is sol
dierly, alert and Imposing. Ills eyes are
large and black, their pcnetratlnc- minl-
Uy veiled by long lids, when he wishes to fl
conceal that which they might possibly fl
betray. His skin is: a deep yellow, very
mucir wrinKifu. He wears a heavy whits
musiacne ana tmperiar. His cheeks still
have color In them. In spite of his age.
due partly to his correct habits and good
digestion, for he Is very abstemious, and
to applications of electricity for tho re
lief of partial facial paralysis.
The sobriety of LI Hung Chamr Is pro
verbial. Of all the charms of life that
allure other men. he cares only for
power, and disdains that which Is sim
ply pleasure. In his own philosophical
way he says: "Flowery paths are not f
long."
In conversation he Is either quietly and
studiously polite and deferential, or bru
tally and vehemently frank, a best suits
his ends. His most ehnrnctprlstl mini!.
ties are inflexible purpose and the cour
age" of his convictions.
When LI Hung Chang rises he goes t
work, and at 7 o'clock eats a hri.iirfnft
composed of bird's-nest soup, rice con
gea and coffee, without milk or sugar;
At tho close of the meal he takes a
grain or two of quinine and goes ta
worK again.
LI Hung Chang has always been thrifty
and has taken advantage of his great op
portultles to make monoy. It has been
said that he is the richest man in ther
world. but bf that no- one knows, as.
LI has not divulged his financial status.
However, he practically owns the rail
roads and -telegraph lines in China, which
ho put In on his own responsibility amT
at his own expense, and derives tho
revenue from them. He Is behind every
progressive European Innovation Intro
duced into the country, and, while hla
motto Is "China for the Chinese," ho la
not averse to using tle foreigner and
Ihe good things the foreigner can pro
vide. In no country is the short, pithy pro.
verb more valued than In China. Tho
fashion was set by Confucius., founder
of Chinese philosophy, who habitually
spoke In proverbs. LI Hung Chang 13
known to the Occident chiefly by reason
of his genius as a soldier nnd states
man, but besides these he i3 a philos
opher and retailer of proverbs and apo
thegms of no mean order. During hia
memorable trip around the world he con
tinually surprised Europeans and Ameri
cans by his witty and apt sayings, aa
well as by his abrupt questions, both)
pertinent and otherwise.
Hid roiicy.
Many years ago he laid down a policy
for the treatment of foreigners which haa
become universal In both China and
Japan. It lsr "Let us uso foreigners,
but do not let foreigners uso us."
He admired General Grant and showed
him many honors when the great Ameri
can soldier was on his journey around
the world. After he had gone, LI Hung
Chang, in making some comparisons,
said: "General Grant and I have sup
pressed the two greatest rebellions
known In history." He referred, on his
part, to the great Tal Ping rebellion,
probably the greatest uprising of Its kind
known to the world.
When the great Chinaman wa,s in New
Tork. he "was entertained by Mayor
Strong. During his lntecevlew LI asked
the Mayor why he had not taken part
In the Civil War. The Mayor replied
that his brother had been In the Army,
but that he had 3taycd home to taka
care of the family, and was In civil life,
"Ah," said LI, ''you were a very good
soldier In time of peace. I suppose, and
a very- good civilian In time of war."
At another time he was discussing?
governments, and said: "Five thousand
years ago China was a republic. Just ad
the United States Is today."
"What made you change your form ot
government?" he was asked.
"The change." he said, "was the most
gradual In the world, and our flrst Em
peror was a plowbov."
When he was In England he uttered
an aphorism, the result of a short ac
quaintance with the two gentlemen con
cerned In It. It was as follows:
"Your Lord Sallsburg Is a man who
says little and means much. Tour Mr.
Gladstone Is. a, man who says much and
means little."
When LI was In Germany, the ICalse
asked him: "How do our women comparti
with those of China?"
"I really cannot tell." said LI, slyly,
fastening his eyes on the corsage of a.
lady who was present. "We never seo
half as much of our women as you do oa
yours."
SINGS PRAISE OF OREGON.
Dallas Lad Contributes His PoetIJ
Meed of Admiration.
This poem was submitted to Tho Oregonian
,03 the product'on of a m-year-old boy, whoatt
name and address are attached thereto:
OREGON.
"Where rolls Columbians mlshty flow
In grandeur to tho Bea;
Where rise the Calender, crowned In snow,
' 'And dash the torrents, wild and trop
in nature's verdant voice Is sung
The mighty fame of Oregon.
The mountain stream and valley rill
Of "Western, freedom sins:
The rolllnr plain and wooded hilt
In Nature's tonei her praises ring:
Murmurlr.tr brooklets tell the story.
Torrents slnr of her great slory.
From sovereicn Hood's prophetic crest.
"Where thunders down the slide;
. From broad Pacific's troubled breast.
"Whore mlehty billows ride.
To lands that meet the rising sun.
Is borne the fame of Oregon.
The avalanche that downward sweep
From summits, wild and Brand;
The torrent's flow that, rushing, leap
To broad Pacific's strand
The sonc of Western grandeur sin
And. sweeping onward, praises rlny.
From mountain gorge and ice-bound peak.
Where, in mists, the eagle soars;
From Columbia's mlehty waters
To the stretch of foreign shores;
Borne on winds and tides the story
Western might and "Western glory.
Forward ever, pride of freedom!
Onward. "Western state of might!
May thy name a nation's, watchword
Stand for justice, truth and rlehtt
May thy fame, thy might and glory
Long be told in song and story!
From the peerless land of sunset
To the mighty Eastern main;
From the north wind to the south wind.
Every land shall know thy fame.
Men shall sing 'neath every sun
Sins thy pratso, O Oregon!