TITE SUNDAY OHEGONIAN, PORTLAND, SEPTEMBER 1908.
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WELL say. this is where we mark
up one on Pinckney. And It's
time too. for he's done the grin
art at me so often he wu comln to
think I irii gettin' Into the Silver class.
Tou know about Pinckney. He'a the
bubble on top of the glass, the anapper
on the whip lash, the aunny pot at the
club. He'a about aa serious aa a kitten
playln' with a string, and the carea on
his mind weigh moat aa heavy aa an
extra rooster feather on a Spring bon
net. Thafa what cornea of havin' a self
ralaln" Income, a small Hat of relatlvea,
and a moderate thirat. If anything boba
up that needs to be worried over like
whether he'a got vests enough to last
through a little trip to London and back,
or whether he's doubled up on his dates
why, he Just tells his man about It. and
then forgets. For a trouble dodger he'a
got the little birds in the trees carryln'
weight. Pinckney'a liable to show up
at the studio here 'every day for a week,
and then again I won't get glimpse of
him for a month. It'a always safe to
expect him when you see him, and it's a
waste of time wonderin' what he'll be up
to next. But one of the things I likes
most about Pinckney Is that he ain't
livin' yesterday or tomorrow. It'a always
this A. M. with him. and the rest of the
calendar takes care of Itself.
So I wa'n't any surprised, aa t was
doln' a few laps on the avenue awnne
back, to hear him give me the hall.
"Oh. I say. Shorty!" says he, wavln'
his stick. "Got anything' on?"
"Nothin' but my clothes," says I.
"Good!" sayg he. "Come with me,
then."
"Sure you know where you're goin'?"
says I.
" Oh, yes. he was almost. It was some
pier or other he was headed for, and
he has the number writ down on a card
if he could find the card. By luck he digs
It up out of his cigarette case, where his
man has put It on purpose, and then he
proceeds to whistle up a cab. Say. If It
wa'n't for them cabbies, I reckon Pinck
ney would take root somewhere.
"Meetln" some one, or seein' 'em off?"
says I, as we climha in.
"Hanged if I know yet," saya Pinck
ney. that Jack and Jill would be In the Lu
"Oh, no." says he. "That is, I hadn't
planned to, you know. And come to think
of it, I believe I am to meet er Jack
and Jill."
"Names sound kind of familiar," says
I. "'Whafs the breed?"
"Wliat would you guess?" says he.
"A pair of spotted poines." saya I.
"By Jove!" says he, "I hadn't thought
of ponies."
"Say." says I. slzln' him up to see If
he was handin' me a Josh, "you don't
mean to give out that you're lookin for
a brace of something to come In on the
steamer, and don't know whether they'll
be tame or wild, long haired or short,
crated or live stock?"
"Live stock!" saya he, beamln'. "That's
exactly tbe word I have teen trying to
think of. Thafa what I shall ask for.
Thanks, awfully. Shorty, for the hint."
"You're welcome," says I. "It looks
like you need all the help along that
line you can get. Do you remember If
this pair was somethln' yon sent for, or
is it a birthday surprise 7'
With that he unloaded aa much of the
tale as he's accumulated up to date.
Seems he'd Just got a cablegram from
some Arm In London that signs them
selves Tootle. Tupper St Tootle, sayln'
that Jack and Jill would Tjp on the L
eania, as per letter.
"And then you lost the letter?" says L
No. he hadn't lost it. not that he knew
of. He supposes that it's with the rest
of last week's mall, that he hasn't looked
over yet. The trouble was he'd been out
of town, and hadn't been back more'n
a day or so and he could read letters
when there wa'n't anything else to do.
That's Pinckney, from the ground up.
"Why not go back and get the letter
jowT says I. "Then you'll know all about
Jack and Jill."
"Oh, bother!" aays he. "That would
spoil all the fun. Let's see what they're
like first, and read about them after
ward." "If it suits you," says I, "ifs all the
same to me. Only you won't know
whether to send for a hostler or an ani
mal trainer."
"Perhaps I'd better engage both," saya
Pinckney.
If they'd been handy, he would have
too: but they wa'n't, so down we sails
to the pier, where the folks was com in"
ashore.
first thins; Pinckney spies after we
had rushed the gangplank la a gent with
a healthy growth of underbrush on his
face and a lot of gold on hla sleeves. By
the way they got together, I see that
they waa old friends.
"I hear you have something on board
consigned to me Captain?" aays Pinck
ney. "Something In the way of live
stock, eh?" and he pokes Cap in the
ribs with his cane.
"Right you are," saya Capple. chucklln
through his whiskers. "And the liveliest
kind of live stock we ever carried, sir."
Pinckney gives me a nudge, aa much
as to say he'd struck It first crack, and
then he remarks, "Ah! And where are
they now?"
"Why,"' says the Cap. "they were
cruising around the promenade deck a
mlaute ago: but. Lor bless you, sir!
there's no telling where they are now
up on the bridge, or down in the boiler
room. They're a pair of colts, those
two."
"ColU!" says Pinckney, gaspln", "Tou
mean ponies, don't you?"
"Well. well, ponies or colts, it's all one.
They're lively enough for either, and
Heigho! Here they come, the rascals."
There is a whoop and a scamper, and
along the deck rushes a couple of or
7-year-old youngsters, that makes a dive
for the Cap'n, catches him around either
leg. and almost upsets him. They was
twins, and It didn't need the kilt suits
Jus: alike and the hair boxed Just the
same to show It. either. They couldn't
have been, better matched if they'd been
a pair of socks, and the faces of 'em
was all grins and mischief. Say. anyone
with a heart in him couldn't help taktn'
to kids like that, provldln' they didn't
take to htm first.
"Here you are. sir.- says the Cap'n
"here's your Jack and Jill, and I wish
you luck with them. It'll be a good
5 J
iJS-.. -
A WAITER GOES
month before I can get back the disci
pline aboard: but I'm glad I had the
bringing of 'em over. Hjere you are, you
holy terrors here's the Uncle Pinckney
you've been howling for!"
At that they let loose of the Cap, gives
a warwhoop In chorus, and lands on
Pinckney with a reg'lar flyin" tackle,
both talkin' to once. Well say, he didn't
know whether to holler for help or laugh.
He Just stands there and looks foolish,
while one of 'em ahlna up and gets an
overhand holt on his lilac necktie.
And about then I notices some one
bearin down on us from the other side
of the deck. 8he was one of these tall,
straight, deep-chested, wide-eyed girls,
built like the Goddess of Liberty, and
with cheeka like a bunch of sweet peas.
Say, she was all right, she was; and If
It hadn't been for the Paris clothes she
was weartn' home I could have made a
guess whether she' came from Denver,
Dallas, or St. Paul. Anyway, we don't
raise many of that kind in New York.
She has her eyea on the youngsters.
"Goodbye, Jack and Jill." says she,
wavln' her hand at 'em.
But nobody gets past them kids as
easy as that. They yells "Miss Ger
trude!" at her like she was a mile off,
and points to Pinckney, and Inside of
a minute they has towed 'em together,
pushed 'em up against the rail, and Is
makin' 'em acquainted at the rate of a
mile a minute.
"Pleased, I aure," says Miss Gerty.
"Jack and Jill are great friends of mine.
I suppose you are their Uncle Pinckney."
"I'm almost beginning to believe I
am," says Pinckney.
"Why." says she, "aren't you"
"Oh. that's my name," says he. "Only
I didn't know that I was an uncle.
Doubtless It's all right, though. I'll look
it up."
With that she eyes him like she thought
he was Just out of the nut factory,
and the more Pinckney tries to explain,
the. Worse he gets twisted. Finally he
turns to the twins. "See here, young
sters," says be, "which one of you is
Jack?"
"Me," says one of 'era. "I'se Jack."
"Well, Jack," says Pinckney, "what Is
your last name?" "
"Anstruther." says the kid.
"The devil!" says Pinckney, before he
could stop it. Then he begs pardon all
round. "I see," says he. "I had al
most forgotten about Jack Anstruther,
though I shouldn't. So Jack la your
papa. Is he? And where is Jack now?"
Some one must have trained them to
do it. for they gets their heads, together,
like they was goin' to sing a hymn, rolls
up their eyes, and pipes out. "Our papa
is up there."
"The deuce you say! I wouldn't have
thought it!" gasps Pinckney. "No, no!
I I mean I hadn't heard of It."
"It was a bad break, though; hut the
girl sees how cut up he is about It, and
smooths everything out with a laugh.
"I fancy Jack and Jill know very lit
tle of such things,", says she; "but they
can tell you all about Marie.
"Marie's gone!" shouts tbe kids. "She
ays we drove her crazy."
That was the way the story cum out.
steady by Jerks. The meat of It was that
som one of Pinckney'a old chums had
passed in somewhere abroad, and for some
reason or other these twins of his had
been shipped over to Pinckney in care
of a French governess. Between not
knowing how to herd a pair of lively ones
like Jack and Jill, and her get tin- in
terested in a tall gent with a lovely black
mustache, Marie had kind, of shifted her
Job off onto the rest of th'e -passengers,
specially Gerty. , and the minute the
steamer touched the dock she had rolled
her hoop.
"Pinckney," saya L "It'a. you to the
bat."
He looks at the twins doubtful, then
he squints at me, and next be looks
at Miss Gertrude. "By Jove!" says he.
"It appears that way, doesn't it? I won
der how long I am expected tov keep
them?"
The twins don't know; I didn't; and
neither does Gerty.
"I had planned to take a noon train
West." says she: "but if you think I
could help In getting Jack and Jill ashore,
I'll stay over for a few hours."
"Will your saya he. "That's -ripping
good of you. Really, you know, I never
took care of twins before."
"How odd!" says she, tearin' off a lit
tle laugh that sounds as if it come out of
a music box. "I suppose you will take
them home?"
"Home!" says Pinckney. Say, you'd
thought he never heard the word before.
V
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DOWN WITH UMPTEEN DOLLARS'
"Why ah er I live at the club, you
know." '
"Oh," says she.
"Would a hotel do?" says Pinckney.
"You might try it," says she, throwin'
me a look that was all twinkles.
Then we rounds up the kids' traps, sees
to their baggage, and calls another cab,
Pinckney and the girl takes Jill, I loads
Jack in with me. and off we starts. It
was a grea't ride. Ever try to answer all
the Questions a kid of that age can think
up? Say, I was three behind and short of
breath before we'd gone 10 blocks.
."Is all this America?" says Mr. Jack,
pointln' up Broadway.
"No, sonny," says I; "this is little old
New York."
"Where's America, then?" says he.
"Around the edges," says I.
"I'm goin' to be President some day,"
says he. "Are you?"
"Not till Teddy lets go. anyway," says I.
"Who's Teddy?" says he.
"The man behind the stick," says I.
"I wish I had a stick," says Jack;
"then I could whip the hossle. I wish I
had auffln' to eat, too."
"I'd give a dollar if you had," says I.
It seems that Jill has been struck with
the same idea, for pretty soon we comes
together, and Pinckney shouts that we're
all goin' to have lunch. Now, there's a
lot of eatin' shops in this town; but I'll
bet Pinckney coudln't name more'n four,
to save his neok, and the Fifth-avenue
Joint he picks out was the one he's most
used to.
It ain't what you'd call a fam'ly place.
Mostly the people who hang out there
belong to the Spender clan. It's where
the thousand-dollar tenors, and the ex
steel "presidents, and the pick of the pony
ballet come for broiled birds and bottled
bubbles. But that don't bother Pinckney
a bit; so we blazes right In, kids an' all.
The head waiter most has a fit when he
spots Pinckney towin" a twin with each
hand; hut he plants us at a round table
in the middle of the room, turns ontho
electric light under the eeashell Bhades,
and passes out the food programmes. I
looked over the card; but as there wa'n't
anything entered that I'd ever met be
fore, I passes. Gerty, she takes a look
around, and smiles. But the twins wa'n't
a bit fcazed.
"What will it be, youngsters?" says
Pinckney.
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WORTH OF DISHES.
"Jam," says they.
"Jam it is," says Pinckney, and orders
a couple of Jars.
"Don't you think they ought to have
something besides sweets?" says Miss
Gerty.
"Blessed if I know," says Pinckney, and
he puts it up to the kids if there wa'n't
anything else they'd like. ,
"Yep!" says they eagerly. "Pickles."
That's what they had, too, jam and
pickles, with a little bread on the side.
Then, while he was flnishln' off the
grilled bones, or whatever it was Pinck
ney had guessed at. they slides out of
their chairs and organizes a game of tag.
I've heard of a lot of queer doln's
beln' pulled off in that partic'Iar caffy,
but I'll bet this was the first game of
cross tag ever let loose there. It .was a
lively one, for the tables was most all
filled, and the tray Jugglers was skatin'
around thick. That only made it all the
more lnterestln' for the kids. Divln' be
tween the legs of gascons loaded down
with silver and china dishes was the best
sport they'd struck in a month, and they
just whooped It up.
I could see the head waiter standm on
tiptoes, watchln' 'em and holdln' his
breath. Pinckney was beginnin' to look
worried, too; but Gerty was settln' there.
as calm and emllln' as if they was playln'
in a vacant lot. It waa easy to aee she
wa'n't one of the worryin' kind.
"I wonder If I shouldn't stop them?"
says Pinckney.
Before he's hardly got It out, there
comes a. bang and a smash, and a fat
French waiter goes down with umpteen
.dollars' worth of fancy grub and dishes.
"Perhaps you'd better," says Gerty.
"Yes," says I. "some of them careless
waiters might fall on one of 'em."
With that Pinckney starts after 'em
tall hat, cane, and all. The kids see him,
and take it that he's Joined the game.
"Oh, here's Uncle Pinckney!" they
shouts. "You're it. Uncle Pinckney!" and
off they goes.
That sets everybody roarin' except
Pinckney. He turns a nice shade of red,
and gives it up. I guess they'd put the
place all to the -bad if Miss Gerty hadn't
stood up smllln' and held her hands out
to them. They come to her like she'd
pulled a string, and in a minute it was all
over.
"Pinckney," says I, "you want to re-
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I NEVER HAD A
hearse this uncle act some before you
spring it on the public again."
"I wish I could get at that letter and
find out how long this Is going to last,"
says he, sighln' and moppln' his noble
brow.
But if Pinckney was shy on time for
letter readin' before, he had less of it
now. The three of us put in the after
noon lookin' after that 'pair of kids, and
we was all busy at that. Twice Miss
Gerty started to break away and go for
a train; but both times Pinckney sent me
to call her back. Soon's she 'got on the
scene everything was lovely.
Plnokney had picked out a suite of
rooms at the Waldorf, and he thought as
soon as he could get hold of a governess
and a maid his troubles would be over.
But it wa'n't so easy to pick up a pair of
twin trainers. Three or four sets shows
up; but when they starts to ask questions
about who the twins belongs to, and who
Pinckney was, and where Miss Gerty
comes In, and .'what was I doin" there,
they gets a touch of pneumonia in the
feet. x
"I ain't casting any insinuations," says
one; "but I never have been mixed up in
a kidnaping case before, and I guess I
won't begin now."
"The sassy thing!" says L as she bangs
the door.
Pinckney looks stunned: but Miss Gerty
only laughs.
"Perhaps you'd better let me go out and
Dickens' "Dan'l Quilp" a Real Character
Gerald Carlton in the Brooklyn Eagle.
I HAVE heard it said very frequently
that the well-known character of
Daniel Qullp, in "The Old Curiosity
Shop," was nothing more than a fancy
sketch, or, at best, an overdrawn cari
cature. This has not only been said on
the lecture platform, but In books and
newspapers.
It is not necessary to give names
here, which I could readily do, head
lng my list with at least two distin
gulshed Americans of International
repute. Now, to probe to the bottom
this unfounded and, in one instance
which I shall name, harsh and unjust
criticism. .
I happened to be in London. England,
in 1874, doing some newspaper work.
During my stay In the capital I met
many prominent newspaper men
among them an Oxford University
graduate named Haley. Mr. Haley had
been on the staffs of several London
newspapers, an editorial writer and
special correspondent. When I first
met Haley he was on the Morning
Chronicle and clerkenwell News, a
newspaper in which Dickens first
sketches by "Box" appeared.
I had heard of the author being a
caricaturist before leaving tbe States
and thought there might be some truth
in the charges made, particularly in
regard to Mr. Dan'l Quilp. Informed
that Mr. Haley had been a friend and
contemporary of the novelist, I decid
ed to question, blm relative to the mat
ter. "With respect to Daniel Quilp." said
Mr. Haley. "I can give you the in
formation you ere in search of. I may
truthfully say that Qullp was no cari
cature In any sense, but a flesh and
blood character still living and still
residing in London. I can point 'him
out to you any day you wish.
"As to his -not having an existence
only in the novelist's fancy that is all
moonshine. Of course, the man who
sat for Qullp is now advanced in years.
though his hair and skin and stature
are as they were then, with little
change. The color of Quilp's hair was
a dirty dark brown, his face swarthy,
his eyes keenly penetrating and mall
clous. He had a manner of standing
and bending over that made him ap
pear dwarfish. Quilp was also slightly
bandy-legged and at times seemed to
be cross-eyed. Dr. Byrne, as he calls
himself, is that even to this day."
"Did I understand you to say that
Quilp's real name was Byrne?" I asked.
with some curiosity.
"Yes."
"An Irishman, of course?" said I,
judging haphazard by the name.
Tnat s wnat ne claims 10 De, tnougn
you'd never think It from his accent or
his looks. He also claims to be a
Trinity College man and an M. D."
"Is he so?"
"That's a doubtful question: I don't
know," answered Haley. "I should
rather think not. though the man's
English and breeding, when he chooses,
are perfect.
'How did Charles Dickens come to
take him as a character?" I pursued.
"Well, the novelist had heard of
Byrne's extraordinary personality from
reportorlal friend, and having in
mind 'Master Humphrey's Clock," later ,
"1
BETTER TIME.
find some one," says she. "And maybe
I'll stay over for a day."
While she was gone Pinckney gets me
to take a note up to his man, tellin' him
to overhaul the mail and send all the
London letters down. That took me less'n
an hour, but when I gets back to the ho
tel I finds Pinckney with furrows in his
brow, tryln" to make things right with
the manager. He'd only left the twins
locked up in the rooms for 10 minutes or
so, while he goes down for some cigar
ettes and the afternoon papers; but be
fore he gets back they've rung up every
thing, from the hall maids to the fire de
partment, run the bath tub over, and
rigged the patent, fire escape out of the
window.
"Was It you that was tellin' about not
wantin' to miss anyfun?" says I.
"Don't rub it in. Shorty," says he. "Did
you get that blamed footle letter?"
He grabs it eager. "Now," says he,
"we'll see who these youngsters are to
be handed over to, and when."
The twins had got me harnessed up to
a chair, and we was havin' an elegant
time, when Pinckney gives a groan and
hollers for me to come in and shut the
door.
"Shorty," says he, "what do you
think? There Isn't anyone else. I've got
to keep them." .
Then he reads me the letter, which Is
from some English lawyers, sayln.' that
the late Mr. Anstruther, havin' no near
the 'Old Curiosity Shop.' he commis
sioned me to interview him. I did so,
and the result was Qullp in 'The Old
Curiosity Shop.' "
"Did Dickens see Byrne before he
drew the character of Quilp?"
"Yes. He was over one hour in his
company. Mr. Dickens' master mind
saw instantly the possibilities In such
a personality and we all know now
how profound were his views of such
characterizations. But you'd better
see Byrne yourself and judge." sug
gested Haley.
"Even very clever people sometimes
criticise without knowing what they
criticise," Haley pursued; "and I'm not
surprised at many critics dubbing a
great master, such as Charles Dickens
undoubtedly was, as an extravagant
caricaturist. Some find fault with his
English a few of your own country
novelists and essayists. I hear and his
style also. But let them go and do
one-tenth as -well, and tney may re
tire on laurels well earned."
"When can I see this Dr. Byrne?"
"Any night this week. at either the
Old Bell, the Temple Forum or the
Cogers' Hall. Im on the outs now
with Byrne, but I'll get Gyles to Intro
duce you. I'll mention it to Gyles to
day, at the Chronicle."
Alfred Gyles was a well-known char
acter in those days on Fleet street,
editing the Morning Chronicle, after
the retirement of his friend, J. F.
Robinson, the novelist.
The appointment to meet Byrne was
for the following Wednesday night
and the place the Old Bell, a half-and-half
literary and newspaper house.
Some very odd characters used to go
there among the rest an occasional
contributor to the Brooklyn Eagle in
Mr. Klnsella's time Chief Robertson,
otherwise Lord Dundonachll, an ardent
student of Hugo Miller, the geologist;
Tom Gibson, a reputed nephew of the
then Bishop of London, a Greek scholar
and a warm admirer of Professor John
Stuart Blackie, one of the greatest
Grecians of the oentury; David Murray
Smith, a contributor to the Encyclo
pedia Britanntea, and brother to James
Smith, the author of "The Life Drama."'
which created such a furore in literary
circles five and thirty years ago. Oc
casionally would drop Into the "Bell"
John Augustus O'Shea and Horace St.
John, of the Standard, war correspond
ent and editorial writer. George
Augustus Sala and his friend Tom
Hood, of Fun, have also been known
as occasional visitors, and last but not
least, an American colonel named
Wadleigh a gentleman to his finger
ends.
I had already met Alfred Gyles, a
clever writer of great executive ability,
whose weakness was his sociable, kind
ly heart and who had found great
favor with William Ewart Gladstone,
who liked the man for his sterling
worth.
The Old Bell was a low-celled tav
ern on lower Fleet street, of four
rooms, conducted by a man (so It was
reported) who had begun life In insig
nificant piratical exploits and who had
wound up his sea-going career as a
blockade-runner during our Civil War.
He had narrow escapes. So, deciding
that a tavern was preferable to the
deck of a piratical craft, slaver or
blockade-runner, with the chance of
being strung up, he hit upon the tav
ern as at least a safer money-getter
relations, has asked that his two chil
dren, Jack and Jill, should be sent over
to his old and dear friend, Mr. Lionel
Ogden Pinckney Bruce, with the request
that he act as their guardian until they
should become of age. The letter also
says that there's a wad of money in the
bank for expenses.
"And the deuce of It Is, I can't refuse,"
says Pinckney. "Jack once did me a
good turn that I can never forget."
"Well, this makes twice, then," says I.
"But cheer up. For a bachelor, you're
doin' well, ain't you? Now all you need
Is an account at the grocer's, and you're
almost as good as a fam'ly man."
"But," says he. "I know nothing about
bringing up children."
"Oh. you'll learn." says I. "You'll be
manager of an orphan asylum yet."
It wa'n't until Miss Gerty shows up
with a broad-faced Swedish nurse that
Pinckney gets his. courage back. Qerty
tells him he can take the night off, as
she'll be on the Job until mornln'; and
Pinckney says the thoughts of goin back
to the club never seemed quite so good to
him as then.
"So long," says I; "but don't forget
that you're an uncle."
I has a picture of Pinckney takln' them
twins by the hand, about the second day,
and headin' for some board in' school or (
private home. I couldn't help thlnkln'
about what a shame it was goin' to be,
too, for they sure was a cute pair of
youngsters too cute to be farmed out
reckless.
Course, though, I couldn't see Pinckney
doln' anything else. Even If he was mar-j
rled to one of them lady nectarines in thej
crowd he travels with, and had a kid of,
his own, I guess It would be a case of
mamma and papa havin' to be Introduced,
to little Gwendolyn every once in awhile'
by the head of the nursery department.!
Oh, I has a real good time for a few
days, stewln' over them kids, and won
derin' how they and Pinckney was comln'
on. And then yesterday I runs across the
whole bunch, Miss Gerty and all, paradln'
down the avenue bound for a candy shop,
the whole four of "em as smilin' as If thoy:
was startln' on a picnic.
"Chee, Pinckney!" says I, "you look like
you was pleased with the amateur uncle
business."
"Why not?" says he. "You ought ta
see how glad those youngsters are to see
me when I come In. And we have great
sport."
"Hotel people still friendly?" says I.
"Why," says he, "I believe there have
been a few complaints. But we'll soon be
out of that. I've leased a country house
for the Summer, you know."
"A house!" says I. "You with a house!
Who'll run it?"
"9-s-s-sh!" says he, pullln''me one sldn
and tatlkln' Into my ear. "I'm going West
tonight, to bring on her mother, and "
"Oh, I see," says I. "You're goin" to
offer Gerty the Job?"
Pinckney gets a color on his cheekbones)
at that. "She's a charming girl, Shorty,";
says he.
"She's nothin' less," says I; "and them
twins are all right, too. But say. Plnck-
ney, I'll bet you never meet a steamer
again without knowln' all about why
you're there. Eh?"
than the element on which he had
passed so many years.
Between 8 and 9 on Wednesday night
I was Introduced to Dr. Byrne by Gyles.
During the conversation. Alfred alluded
to Dickens' Qullp. It was then I saw
the f lesh-and-blood character of the
delineation and how true the great
novelist had drawn the natural char
acteristics of the man Byrne as Qullp.
In all my experiences and they have
been varied I had up to this never met,
a man with that basilisk expression of
eye ana quailing, savage nunior oi
visage as this self-styled Irish doctor,
Mr. Byrne. Every feature of Dickens'.
Qullp was there, and. In my judgment,!
the . character was rather under than,
overdrawn, by the novelist.
I met Haley next day in the editorial
rooms of the Chronicle, and he asked
me what I thought of the doctor.
"True to the life," I answered.
"There is no caricaturing at all about
Dan'l Qullp. The real and the imag-;
Inary are as two peas In a pod."
Locusts Worse Than Rebellion.
Baltimore American. , '
Locusts are proving hardly less de- j
structlve In German Southwest Africa!
than the three years' rising of natives, j
A settler not long ago attempted to de- ;
fend his little plot of land by digging all ;
around it a ditch one yard broad and:
of equal depth, at the bottom of which j
he lighted a fire. But the Insects swarmed;'
into the ditch till the flames had been j
extinguished by their accumlated corpses. - y
Snake Cbase by Auto Power.
Baltimore American.
Only people In automobiles dare pass
Clarke's pond, on tho outskirts of Tor-'
rington. Conn., because a snake, which. '
according to those who have seen It, '
measures 10 feet In length and is 6 Inches j
in diameter, has made Its appearance .
there. Men, women and children have J
been chased by the reptile. Motorists are j
planning a hunt and some are already '
practicing firing as their cars glide along. '
Mother and Home.
TrhU pfm appears In a rurvynr'i note
book, in which it was writtes RVral years
ego, after the poet had harl the pt etory
of a lone prospector In the Go!! Mountain
mining: district of Nevada. It haa never be
fore been published.)
Ai I it all alone In mr cabin tonlKht
On the mountain' rough creit. whit with
mow,
And watch th pin knots throw their flicker
ing light,
And hear the sad winds as they blow.
Oft' I think of another, a bright, happy Are,
And wonder why thua I'm to roam;
Picture 'round it a mother, a elmer, a sir
Juat a plctur of mother and home.
When the snags of the Fouth mid the cottoa
Cornea again a or old to mine ear.
And memories- long aince forgotten
Take me back to the old home ho dear.
For it'a only the thoughts of hla home, after
all.
That makes the poor miner hunt gold:
The thought that In happiness he yet may
recall
The days now dark, dreary and cold.
In March of tb gold that we all ao much
lack.
I have traveled from Victor to Xome.
With the hopes that In rlchea I yet could go
oacg
Back to childhood's old mother and home.
When the songs of the South, 'mid the cot
ton.
Come again as of old to mine ear.
And memories long since forgotten
Belmbellish my old borne ao dear.