Bandon recorder., April 14, 1904, Image 3

j PHIL of THE
1 HOLLOW
By SHAN BULLOCK
Cocirl M. 1903. b Aocricaa Prtu AuocUUoa
jNE morning in June I sat by the
p wj window of u third class car-
If! riage looking out upon a mot
i Kv crowd that had gathered
from Meath hills upon the platform of
Oldtowu station to see the last of a
party bound for the States.
Listlessly I sat watching aufd wait
ing, when of a sudden two yokels broke
their way across the platform, wrench
ed open the door, blundered into my
carnage anil look their places in the
farther corners. Their boorish ways
nettled me. The crash of hobnails upon
my ftot roused me. I turned in wrath.
"Permit me to say that you've come
to the wrong carriage," I said in with
ering tones. "This is third class, only
third class. The tirsts are waiting for
you higher up."
No word came from the corners, not
n move or sign. My blood thickened,
and I was proceeding with a brutal ref
erence to cattle trucks when right at
my elbow a voice interrupted mine
through the open window.
"Xed! I say. Ned! Is it ye? Ye hear
me over there? Xed! I say, Xed!"
It was a bent old man. In gray frieze
and a beaver hat, that spoke. Shrilly,
almost tienely. he spoke and sent his
voice through mine across the carriage.
callin;
Xed! 1 say. Xed!'
Xo answer came to him from either
corner, but silence might not batlle his
importunity. Again and yet again he
called, his voice rising fiercer and shrill
er, and with that the youth in the op
posite corner to mine turned his heavy
face and spoke.
"Can't ye see it's me?" he growled,
his voice hard and sullen, his eyes
glancing furtively. "What d'ye want?"
The old man craned farther into the
carriage. "What are ye doin' there,
Xed Brady;" he shrilled. "What divil
ment are ye up to now? Where are ye
goin"? Answer me. sir!"
"Ah, quit yer talk an' go home wi'
ye!" came back. "What is it to ye what
I'm doin?"
"Hut it is to me. Isn't yer mother
wild about ye? Wouldn't she be here
this minute only for searehhf for ye?
What are ye doin'. 1 say?" cried the
ancient. Then, no answer coming, he
clutched tighter at the window and con
tinued: "Wherewere ye all last night?
Why didn't ye come home to us. wait
In yonder an' missin' our sleep? Shame
on ye. Ned Brady, black shame on ye!
Ve've been up to no good. Yer up to uo
good now. Ye blaggard. ye blaggard!
Come out to me come out. I say. be
fore 1 bring thepolis! Come out!" cried
the ancient in a voice that blent its
tierce treble most strangely with the
piteous sound of the emigrants' wail
ing that now came from the platform,
u heartbreaking sound pierced through
by that passionate old voice. "Come
out." it went, "come out, ye divil. be
fore I bring the polis to ye!"
It seemed to me. sitting there ob-
ti.rwmt t li-i t :it the word the voilth'a
face' Munched. Certainly he shrank in
to his corner, cowered there a moment,
then made as if to rise.
But even as he gathered in his feet
his companion bent forward, whisper
ed to 1dm a word and turned his face.
It was a cruel face, with thin lips and
narrow black eyes. and. seeing it. the
ancient drew back and raised his
hands. "Phil Gara." said he. "Phil o
the Hollow! Ye too!"
"Aye-me too. An' what of that
Micky, me son?" The voice was thin
and hard, cold and satiric. "Sure it's
not the first time ye've seen me In yer
life. Why can't ye quit shoutin there
like a fool an' go an' bid goodby?"
"Phil o the Hollow! G,oin' wi' him?"
The ancient drew back a step, raised u
hand and rubbed his eyes. "(Join' wi
him?" he repeated slowly, as if to his
inner self "Goin' wi him?"
"Well, an' what of that? D'ye think
I'll ate him body an' bones? P.e the
Lord, but ye must be dotin' in yer ould
age!" Phir laughed harshly. "Ah,
uway wi' ye ait bid the people goodby.
Away now before"
"Come out vi ye come out. come
out!" Again the ancient clutched the
window and pushed in his face, again
broke Into shrillness. "Ye'll not go.
Xed Brady; ye'll not go. There's some
dlvilmeiit on foot. Ye've been at divil
ment in the night. Come home wi
me." Fiercely he drew back, turned
the door handle and made to enter, and
just then the whistle sounded, the en
gine shrieked, and the last glimpse I
had of Micky as the train moved away
showed him tight in the porter's arms,
with his hands raised and clinched.
"Ye divil, ye divil!" he cried. "Ah. ye
divil!" His voice died out behind a
piteous sound of wailing. There came
a wild rush of streaming faces along
the platform, a quick huddling of ex
cited figures by the signal box. skirls,
cheers, a mad waving of hats, then a
sudden hush and the peace of the
brooding fields.
For awhile I sat humoring thought,
then settled back in my corner, brought
out a book and across it fell to observ
ing my companions. The two sat si
lent aiid passive. They were dressed
in peasant fashion, rough tweed coats,
corduroy trousers, heavy boots and
peaked caps, cotton scarfs, leather
belts: on him called Xed a pair of knee
straps, on him called Phil a pair of
buttoned leggings. The clothes of both
were faded and worn, odorous also of
stale peat smoke, but while Nod's were
patched and mud stained Phil's wen
sound and clean, nor had they altogeth
er that (plaint rusticity of cut and man
ufacture which stamped his companion
as with the very name of clodhopper
In other ways also one differed f'-om
the other, -ven In details of aspect
Aed's hands were rough and clumsy,
his skin hard and sun scorched, limbs
ungainly, face (as I had seen, and saw
even now. in part) heavy and boorish;
no light in his eyes, no animat on lu
voice or feature. .lust a yokel was Ned.
who had not slept and whose mind was
troubled. With Phil, however, things
were different. His hands and skin
were those of your loiterer by gate
and corner, of your poacher and ne'er-do-well.
His limbs were supple, face
lean and knowing, eyes keen and wary,
every inch of him alive with the sub
tlety of a fox. Xed was a tool: Phil
M-emed an instrument. Ned's business
was with spade and dungl'ork. Phil s
with snare and net. 11 .-id 1 met Ned In
a lane I should have rooked across the
heutre: meeting Phil. I should have
gripped my stick. That there was good
In Ned lirady I felt sure: that there
was bad in Phil Gara I knew instinc
tivelyjust, maybe, as old Micky knew
it and would have plucked the lamb
from the tTolf.
And to me. as to Micky, something
whispered that "divilment" was afoot.
" Yc divil. uv divil!"
The pair looked guilty. Their ways
bred suspicion. And just at that they
stirred in their corners and fell to re
vealing themselves. It was Ned who
stirred soonest. Loaning forward, el
bows on knees and hands clasped, he
spoke softly.
"Phil! I say. rhil!"
Gara opened his -ryes, moved a little;
also bent forward. "Well?" said he
and glanced swiftly toward me.
"Ye heard what he said? Ye soon the
way he was in?"
"Who? Ould Micky?"
Ned nodded response.
"To be sure. I heard It. The ould
fool!"
"He he was powerful put out."
Ned's voice was tearful. His lips quiv
ered. "Think of him savin' what he
did. Think think of them sittiu up for
me all night an goin' to search for me!"
"Ach, quit yer nonsense!" said Gara
harshly and contemptuously. "Arrah.
what about them?"
"Put -but ah. I dunno." Ned buried
face in hands and sat silent for a min
ute, then looked up suddenly. "I'll go
back." he said. "I'll go back."
"Will ye. then?" Phil leaned nearer.
His voice grew harsher. "Where to?"
"I'll go home." answered Ned. "I'll
go, I'll go." Again he covered his face,
again looked up. "I nearly went. An
other minute an' I'd 'a gone with him."
"Would ye. then? Another minute
an' ye'd"-
Phil glanced at me. caught my eye.
scowled, leaned forward and behind his
hand whispered something In Ned's
ear. and with the words, whatever they
were, Ned's face whitened, and he sat
upright and stared wide.
"Ye ye think that," said Ned in a
drawling whisper. "My God my
God!" A minute lie sat silent, his back
limp, hands sprawling on his knees.
then stooped once more, put a hand on
Phil's arm and whispered something
that I could not hear.
Ned Gara turned his fact and fixed
me steadily with his beads of eyes.
"Yer a good hand at watchln'," he
said.
I had nothing to answer.
"Ye'd know me again. I'm of opin
ion, if ye saw me skin on a bush. Sup
pose for a change ye hide yer ugly face
behind yer book an' keep yer eyes from
yer betters."
Still I did not answer, so he edged
along the seat toward me, his eyes still
keen upon my face.
"Ye were mighty free of the tongue
awhile ago." he said, jerking a thumb
toward his shoulder, "back at Old-
town. Ye wouldn't be talkln' like that
now. I'm thinkin'?"
I had no desire to talk like that now.
Raising my book. I leaned back In my
corner, but my eyes kept on his.
"Answer me!" Uo shouted. "Say now
what ye said then! Say it, if there's a
drop of a man In ye!"
I lowered my book, crossed and un
crossed my legs, looked my bravest.
"I have nothing to answer." I said.
"What I said then you deserved"
"Say It again!" He was beside me
now, ugly and threatening, his beads
of eyes glowing fixedly.
"There's no need."
"Rah, ye coward! Ye'd insult decent
people wl' the world to back ye. but
ye'd slink away when they took ye to
task. That's yer kind, me Ulster bue-
kcen! I know ye. ye Orange spy! He
the Lord, but I've a mind to mark yer
countenance. Who are ye. sir. to sit
there watchin' an Ustenln' without be
In asked?" He swung his hand close to
my face, then dropped it and with a
quick movement crossed the carriage.
dropped Into Hie seat facing mine. lean
ed toward me and looked me straight
In the eyes. "Who are yc af all?" he
asked, not questioning me so much as
himself. "Who the divil are ye?"
I did not answer, not knowing what
to say. To spvak truth, fear held my
tongue In thrall. The man cowed me.
His voice chilled my blood. He seemed
capable of any violence. That sinister
face of his. long and thin, crafty and
cruel, with Its hard lips and wicked
eyes, so tense, so Inscrutable, so void
of any good, drew all my faculties to
ward It and shadowed them with some
thing like terror.
Who are ye?" he said, questioning
himself the while his eyes pierced to
my marrow. "If I thought ye were"
His scrutiny went on .ciitly for n
minute, then found words again. "But
yer not. No. ye haven't the look, an'
ye haven't the pluck. Yer too soft in
the face an' white of the hand. What
are ye?" Leaning forward, lie took the
book from my hand, opened It and
glanced at a page. "Naw; yer not a j
schoolmaster. Mebbe j-er out of a i
bank. Meb'je yer naw, yer no counter '
Jumper." He thing the book on the;
seat beside me. sat upright and. crook- j
ing his elbows, caught a thumb In each
waistcoat nocket. "I'll tell vc wlint ve j
are." said tie. wltn a cock or the head
"yer a bagman."
1 was anxious to humor the man. and
I suppose 1 nodded.
"1 knew It." said Gara. a gray smile
hovering on his face. "I knew it the
minute I clapped eyes on ye. Thinks I
as I sits beyond in the corner ye
thought I couldn't see 3e because me
eyes were shut the lad with the book
Is only a bagman on his rounds." He
stopped and glanced up at the rack and
below the seat. "Uut where's the bag?"
asked he, suspicion again in his eyes.
"In the van." said I.
"Aw. to be sure, to be sure." Slowly
he spoke, his head wagging up and
down, then fell to fumbling In his pock
ets and brought out a pipe. Stretching
high his arms, he yawned wearily and
rubbed his eyes. "Heigho. heigho!"
It was heartening to see the man in
softer mood. My pulse took a steadier
beat. Over my book I watched Phil
probe the pipe bowl with a finger, rap
it upon his knee and bring forth a piece
of tobacco and a long horn hafted clasp
knife that held a single blade. Opening
the knife, he rubbed the blade a mur
derous, gleaming thing, with a sharp
point upon his sleeve and began whit
tling the tobacco into his palm. It was
then that for the first time 1 noticed
upon his right shirt cuff a broad, dull
stain. Suddenly he looked around, and.
following his gaze, I saw Neil crouched
in his corner, hit hands spread and his
eyes fixed wide upon the knife. There
were fear and horror in his eyes, blank
terror upon his face. and. seeing him.
Gara raised his voice. "Ye eternal fool!
What's come over ye now? Are ye"
Gara stopped. looked down at the knife,
then seized his cap and tlung it in Ned's
face. "Ah. go to sleep wi' ye. for a
fool! Lie back an' go to sleep!" shout
ed he. and slowlv Ned lav hack
(TO BK CONTIXl'KD.)
STAGE LIGHTS.
Their Various I'hl-m iiml (lie Name
by Which They Are Known.
Lights play an important part on
the stage of the modern theater, ami
they have many uses. The spot light,
for instance, is employed to cast a cir
cle of light upon the stage where a sin
gle person Is to be brought into espe
cial prominence. It consists of an arc
electric light inclosed in a cylindrical
hood about the diameter of a stove
pipe and provided at the open end
with a condenser lens for the purpose
of concentrating the rays upon a small
area.
A llood light is an arc in a rectangu
lar box painted white upon the inside
to serve as a rolloctor. It is supposed
to tlood the stage with light; hence its
name.
Punch lights are clusters of gas or
incandescent lights either arranged
within a reflector or exposed naked.
They are used back of a scene behind
doorways, where light is needed off
the stage to represent the illumina
tion of th.it part of a dwelling not
shown. For the same purpose "strip"
lights are used rows of incandescent
lights fastened to a strip of wood pro
vided with a hook, by which it may
be hung to the back of a scene when
required.
"Side" lights are Incandescent lights
arranged on either side of the prosce
nium arch. Sometimes they are built
within the arch or they are .arranged
to be swung outward when the cur
tain Is raised.
The footlights are familiar to all.
and the "border" lights are those hung
over the stage directly above the scen
ery, shutting off the top of the stage.
These are arranged In a trough like an
Inverted "I"' to cast their light down .
upon the stage. These are practically j
all of the lights used upon the stage of
a nouse. inougii magic laments are
employed at times for the simulation
of water effects, moonlight ripples and
lightning. The old fashioned calcium,
using the oxyhydrogen gas. Is so sel
dom employed in the modern theater
as to call for no comment.
CALIFORNIA'S GREATNESS.
California has the largest seed farms
in the world.
California leads all the states In the
production of barley.
The Golden Gate Is the western portal
for America's great future commerce.
California is the only state in the
Fnion in which bituminous rock is
found.
California has a larger per capita
wealth than any other state In the
Union.
California produces more oranges
and lemons than any other state in the
Union.
The U nixed States mint at San Fran
cisco is the largest institution of the
kind In the world.
For many years past San Francisco
has been and still is the leading whal
ing port of the world.
The glory of California's llowers is
practical. The state produces more
honey than any other.
California produces more English
walnuts than all the other states, and
they are of better quality. Exchange.
A Home Thrust.
There is a good story told about the
late Henry Bcrgh. While walking
about the streets of New York city one '
morning he saw a teamster whipping a j
balky horse.
"Stop that, you brute," he exclaimed,
"or I'll have you locked up inside of
five minuses! Why don't you try kind-'
ness on die animal? Don't you sup
pose a horse can be reached by a kind
word the same as a human being?" .
"I b'lleve ye're right, sor," replied
the team&ter, a quick witted Irishman,
who, with all his faults of temper. wis
not a bad man at heart, "an" if a harse
has feelln's, sor, don't ye s-'pose his
dhrlver has too? Thry a koind wor-rd '
on tin; dhrlver, if ye pl'ase."
The stern face of Mr. Bergh relaxed
Into a smile, and In the better under- j
standing that followed the horse for
got that It was balking and started off
In a trot.
i mr rnipcr x..uper.
"And what did you do when the doc- 1
tor told you you would have to quit
wearing a corset and give up sweets?" ;
"I sent for another doctor."--Chicago '
inf... i,
ftecord-IIorald.
Whoever makes the fewest persons
aneasy is the best bred in the com
pany. Swift.
OLD TIME BASEBALL.
IT WAS NOT SCIENTIFIC AND FEW
RULES WERE OBSERVED.
The Hatter Wn Known ns ttie Puil
dlcmnit. ami the Pitcher's Object
Wan to Throw a Hall Thnt Could He
Hit "HrliiKlui? In the Side."
Time will not turn back in its tlight.
but the mind can travel back to the
ilays before baseball or at least to the
days before baseball was so well
known and before It had become so
scientific. There were ball games in
those days in town and country, and
the country ball game was an oveut.
There were no clubs. The country boy
of those days was not gregarious. He
preferred Hocking by himself and re
maining independent. On Sunday aft
ernoons the neighborhood boys met on
some well crossed pasture, and, wheth
er ten or forty, every one was to take
part In the game. Self appointed lead
ers divided the boys into two compa
nies by alternately picking one until
the supply was exhausted. The bat.
w'diich was no round stick, such as is
now used, but a stout paddle with a
blade two inches thick and four inches
wide with a convenient handle dressed
on to it, was the chosen arbiter. One
of the leaders spat on the side of this
bat. which was honestly called "the
paddle." and asked the leader of the
opposition forces, "Wet or dry?" The
paddle was "then sent whirling up in
the air. and when it came down which
ever side won went to the bat, while
the others scattered over the field.
The ball was not what would be
called a "National league ball" nowa
days, but it served every purpose. It
was usually made on the spot by some
boy offering up his woolen socks as an
oblation, and these were raveled and
wound round a bullet, a handful of
strips cut from a rubber overshoe, a
piece of cork or almost anything or
nothing, when anything was not avail
able. The winding of this ball was an
art. and whoever could excel in this
art was looked upon as a superior be
ing. The ball must be a perfect sphere
and the threads as regularly laid as
the wire on the helix of a magnetic
armature. When the winding was com
plete the surface of the ball was thor
oughly sowed with a large needle and
thread to prevent it front unwinding
when a thread was cut. The diamond
was not arbitrarily marked off as now.
Sometimes there were four bases and
sometimes six or seven. They were not
equidistant, but were marked by any
fortuitous rock or shrub or depression
in the ground where the steers were
wont to bellow and paw up the earth.
One of these tellurial cavities was al
most sure to be selected as "the den."
now called the home plate. There were
no masks or mitts or protectors. There
was no science or chicanery, now
called "headwork." Tin strapping
young oafs, embryonic teachers, presi
dents and premiers were too honest for
this. The pitcher was the one who
could throw a ball over the "den," and
few could do this. His object was to
throw a ball that could be hit.
The paddleman's object was to hit
the ball, and if he struck at it -which
he need not do unless he chose and
missed it the catcher, standing well
back, tried to catch It after it had lost
Its momentum by striking the earth
once and lxumdiiig in the air "on the
first bounce" it was called and if he
succeeded the paddleman was "dead."
and another took his place. If he
struck it and it was not caught in the
field or elsewhere in the air or "on the
bounce." he could strike twice more,
but the third time he was compelled to
run. There was no umpire ami very
Utile wrangling. There was im effort
t pounce upon a base runner and
touch him with the ball. Any one hav
ing it could throw it at him. and If it
hit him he was "dead" almost literal
ly sometimes. If he dodged the ball, he
kepi on running until the 'den" was
leached. Some of the players became
proficient in "ducking, dodging and
side stepping, and others learned to
throw the ball with the accuracy of a
rillc bullet.
No matter how many players wen;
on a side, each and every one had to be
put out. and If the last one made three
successive home runs he "brought in
the side." and the outfielders, pitchers
and catcher had to do all their work
over again. The boy who could "bring
in his side" was a hero. No victorious
general was ever prouder or more
lauded. Horatius at the bridge was
small potatoes in comparison. He was
the uncrowned king. Then' were no
foul hits. If a ball touched the paddle
ever s.flightly, It was a tick, and three
ticks made a compulsory run. The
score was kept by some one cutting
notches in a stick, and the runs dur
ing an afternoon ran into the hun
dreds. If the ball was lost In the grass
or rolled under a Scotch thistle, the
cry "Ixist ball!" was raised and the
game stopped until It was found. Cin
cinnati Commercial Tribune.
What ti I.le I)ll.
The madness of suicide as a relief
from mental anguish was vividly Illus
trated yeans ago by an Incident which
occurred In an Italian town. Moretti.
a tailor, w.as sent to prison on a charge
of fraud. His sweetheart called upon
the police oliicer to ask how long Mo
retti was likely to be confined and was
told that it would be probably for
many years. The policeman had been
Instigated lo say this by the girl's
mother, who disliked the match. Over
whelmed with grief and thereby driven
to despair, the poor girl put an end to
her life by poison. A few days later
Moretti was released from custody,
the accusation against him having
1 eon proved false. He returned home
to find his allianced bride a corpse.
Frenzied at the sight, he. too, destroy
ed himself. The lie wrought a double
tragedy.
' APoIIte .Man.
A man was hurrying along a street
one night when another man. also in
violent haste, rushed out of an alley,
and the two collided with great force.
The second man lookcil mad, while the
polite man. taking oil' his hat. said:
"My dear sir. I don't know which of
us is to blame for this violent encoun
ter, but I am In too great a hurry to
Investigate. If I ran into you I beg
your pardon; If you ran into me don't
mention it." and he tore away at re
doubled speed.
NEW SHORT STORIES
Actions Speak Louder Than Words.
Mr. William Alden Smith, represent
ative in congress from the Grand Rap
ids (Mich.) district, was once defend
ant's attorney at a trial on a criminal
charge. The complaining witness was
known to be of bad reputation. Mr,
Smith naturally made the most of that
fact.
One of his witnesses was a stalwart
blacksmith. This blactymith had a
venerable figure, a conspicuous feature
of which was u long white beard fall
lug upon his broad chest.
"Do you know the family of the com
plaining witness in this trial?" asked
Attorney Smith.
"I do." replied the blacksmith in stol
id tones.
"What Is their reputation good or
had?"
"Pad." In the same stolid tones.
The prosecuting attorney, to whom
the witness was promptly handed over,
wit a counted a clever man at cross ex
amination. "Haven't you had trouble with the
father of the complaining witness?"
he Inquired in exultant but Impressive
manner.
"No." replied the blacksmith deliber
ately. "No."
"No trouble at all?"
"Nothing of much Importance."
"Ah, there was something?"
"I accused him of stealing n bell off
my brindle cow."
"'And he denied it, didn't he?"
"Yes." replied the blacksmith of the
venerable beard, "but he brought the
bell back next da3"
The HulliiR Passion Strong.
"Old Adam Forepaugh," said a friend
of the veteran showman, "once had a
big white parrot that had learned tc
say:
" "One at a time, gentlemen one at a
time. Dou't crush.'
"The bird had, of course, acquired
this sentence from the ticket taker of
the show. Well, one day the parrot got
"one at a time, gentlemen.'
lost in the country, mul Mr. Forepaugh
leaped into his buggy and started out
posthaste to hunt for it.
"I'eople here and there who had seen
the parrot directed him in his quest,
and finally as he was driving by a corn
field he was overjoyed to hear a famil
iar voice.
"He got out and entered the field and
found the parrot in the middle of a
tlock of crows that had pecked him till
he was almost featherless. As the
crows bit and nipped away the parrot,
lying on his side, repeated over and
over:
' 'One at a time, gentlemen one at a
time. Don't crush.' "New York Trib
une.
When Spencer Hoarded.
Among the stories told of Herbert
Spencer some time ago was one relat
ing to his boarding house experiences.
His doctor had advised him that soli
tary meals were not good for him, and
he went to a boarding house, but did
not stay. The "pleasant lady" who sat
next to him and who was to engage
him in light and cheerful talk was a
sad disappointment. A friend asked
her how she liked the boarding house.
Could she recommend it? "Oh. yes. I
think I can." she replied. "Uut there
is a Mr. Spencer, who thinks he knows
about science and philosophy. I have
to correct him every night!" One of
Spencer's peculiarities was to carry
about two little plugs In his pocket,
nnd whenever conversation around him
became amusing he took them out
nnd put them In his ears. London
Chronicle.
Invited the Minority to Call.
Colonel Itradley II. Snialley Is the
leader of the Democracy of Vermont.
When Governor Russell of Massachu
setts was alive Colonel Snialley thought
It would be a fine thing to have the
governor come- to Burlington and make
a speech.
He telegraphed to Russell. "Will you
come to Rurllngton and address the
Democracy of Vermont?"
Governor Russell telegraphed back.
"I am too busy to come to Vermont at
this time, but If you will come to my
house I shall take great pleasure .In ad
dressing you." Philadelphia Post.
KlnK Pavement.
"Our cities are better paved than
yours," said an easterner to UnltUl
States Senator Weldon R. Hoy burn jof
Idaho.
"Yes," was the reply; "plenty of tlags
ujidjjr your feet, but not near so many
over j'our head as cut our way."
EiiKlnnd'it Miikihi Chnrtn.
That shriveled parchment, the char
ter of English freedom, was saved, it Is
said, by the veriest chance from the
scissors of a merciless tailor. Struck
by the great seals attached to a piece
of paper the tailor was cutting up. Sir
Robert Cotton stopped the man ami
gave him fourpence for the document
he would have destroyed. It Is now in
the British museum, lined and mount
ed and In a glass case, the seal a
shapeless mass of wax and the charac
ters quite Illegible. London Mail.
A'1 Ts
FAMOUS FOR FAT.
Daniel Lambert, Who Died In 1800,
Got Too Obexe to Wabble.
The fame of Daniel Lambert as a
champion among fat men in England,
If not in the world, still remains un
rivaled. Daniel was born at Leicester
In 1770 and died in 1S09 at Stamford.
The grandson of a celebrated cock
fighter and addicted to sport through
out his life, his dimensions were not
extraordinary, and his habits were not
different from those of other lads un
til he was fourteen years old. When
twenty-three years of age. however, he
turned the scale at thirty-two stone,
und, although he is recorded to have
been then able to walk from Woolwich
to London, at the time of his death, in
his fortieth year, he had attained, the
prodigious weight of tiftj'-two stone, or
72S pounds, and was more or less help
less. He was a modest man. and when
he had achieved physical greatness
fame was thrust upon him. He was
for a long time unwilling to be made
a show of. but he gained a more than
local reputation, and people traveled
from far to see him, resorting to vari
ous devices in order to be allowed to
do so. At length the prospect of profit
overcame his resolution, smd for four
years before his death he exhibited
lilmself in London and In the prov
inces. He was apparently a man of some
wit, for once, before he permitted the
public to gaze upon him, an inquisitive
person had gained access to his pres
ence by pretending to be a fellow
sportsman Interested In the pedigree of
a mare, whereupon Lambert promptly
replied, "She was bred by Impertinence
out of Curiosity." Before the days of
Daniel Lambert, Edward Bright of
Maiden vyas a well known fat man, al
though his name no longer lingers as
a household word. He died in 17"0 at
the age of thirty years, weighing forty
two stone and seven pounds, and Is
stated to have been an active man till
a j'car or two before his death, when
his corpulency so overpowered his
strength that his life was a burden and
his death a deliverance. Both Bright
and Lambert seem to have been genial,
good humored fellows and very popular
among those who visited them. In
deed popularity seems to be the lot of
the corpulent in fact as well as in fic
tion. The heroes of fiction, however,
have the advantage in the matter of
lasting glory, and the names of Daniel
Lambert and the fat boy of Pcckham
sink into Insignificance beside those of
Falstaff and the fat boy in "Pickwick."
London Standard.
THE WORD "MOB."
IXott It Worked lt Way Into the
EnKllnh LimKDURC.
The word "mob" is an abbreviation
It is nothing but a fragment of the fill'
Latin original "mobile vulgus" "the
fickle common people." First the nour
"vulgus" was dropped. "Mobile." com
ing Into common use. was in a fewyean
cut down to "mob." By Swift it wa.
abominated to his dying day as a pe
.pliurly odious kind of slang. Addi
oii sympathized with this feeling. Ir
No. 13o of the Spectator "mob" Is pir
down by him as one of the rldiculoin
words which he fears will In time bt
looked upon as part of the speech
There must have been then a host oi
minor defenders of the purity of oui
tongue who bewailed its increasing use
and pointed to thnt fact as evidence oi
the growing degeneracy of the lan
guage. But the assailed form stoutly
held its ground and outlived its cen
surers. Addison's fears have been re
alized. The abbreviation has thorough
ly established itself. Accordingly a
word which their predecessors stigma
tized as a corruption of the vilest kind
is now used unhesitatingly by the most
precise of modern jurists. The reason
of Its prevalence Is obvious. It came
to supply a very genuine want. There
Is no other single word that conveys
definitely the idea of a particular sort
of riotous assemblage. Harper's.
LUNAR SCENERY.
Ita Appenrnnee Proves the Moon'
Luck of Air and Winter.
It is by indirect methods of observa
tion that scientists learn of the ab
sence of atmosphere in the moon.
There are various arguments that can
be adduced, but the most conclusive is
that obtained on the occurrence of
what is called the occultation of a
star. It sometimes happens that the
moon comes directly between the earth
and a star, and the temporary extinc
tion of the latter is an occultation. We
can observe the movement when it
takes place, and the suddenness of the
extinction of the star Is extremely re
markable. If the moon had a copious
atmosphere, the gradual interposition
of this would produce a gradual ex
tinction of the star and not the sudden
phenomenon usually observed.
This absence of air and water from
the moon explains the peculiar and
weird ruggedness of the lunar scenery.
We know that on the earth the action
of the wind and of rain, of frost and of
snow is constantly tending to wear
down our mountains and reduce their
hard outlines, but no such agents are
at work upon the moon.
Applied Sclenee
When .Tames Russell Ixnvell was
minister to England, he was guest at
a banquet at which one of the speak
ers was Sir Frederick Braniwell. Sir
Frederick was to respond to the toast.
"Applied Science." It was long after
midnight when the toast was pro
posed, and several speakers were still
to be called. Rising in his place, the
scientist said:
"At this hour of the night, or, rather,
of the morning, my only Interest in ap
plied science is to apply the tip of the
match to the side of the box upon
which alone it Ignites and to apply the
flame so obtained to the wick of a bed
room candle."
A moment later Lowell tossed a pa
per across the table to him bearing
these two lines:
Oh, brief Sir Frederick, would that all
could catch
Your happy talent nnd supply your match!
Youth's Companion.
a rrctnnuon.
A farmer wrote to his lawyer as fol
lows: "Will you please tell me where
you learned to write? I have a boy I
wish to send to school, and I am afraid
I may hit upon the same school that
you went to."
HEROIC REMEDIES.
Whipping Wait Prettcrlbed at Ox
Time For Insanity and Fits.
Ill health is a bad thing at any time,
but 150 years ago It was made more
terrible by the remedies in use. Blood
letting, of course, was a simple affair.
A writer in Macmillau's Magazine saya
that everybody was bled twice a year
in the spring and autumn. Tbe bar
bers were the surgeons and, like wise
men, adapted their prices to their pa
tients. A gentleman who so Indulged him
self as to go to bed to be bled "was
charged half a crown and his fine lady
half a sovereign. Certain days were
unlucky for .bloodletting, and nothing
would Induce the barbers to operate
on these occasions. Serious diseases
seem to have been beyond the medical
skill of the day. Villages and towna
simply drove out the infected from
their midst
Among remedies herbs of course
played a great part. "For salves," runs
an old notebook which had a great
vogue, "the country parson's wife
seeks not the city and prefers her gar
den and fields before all outlandish
gums." Sage was held a very great
medicine. It was even asked in Latin,
"Why should any one die who has sage
in his garden?" If any one had a dis
ease of the mouth, the Eighth Psalm
should be read for three days, seven
times on each day. As a remedy It
was "sovereign."
For insanity or fits whipping was
prescribed. Little wonder that mor
tality was great. In old days in Wes
sex, England, persons with infectious
diseases were confined In the lockup,
and whipping was deemed too good" for
them. Should the sick be loud in la
ment, the watchman kept them quiet by
this populur discipline, and one town
has upon its records, "Paid T. Haw
kins for whipping two people that had
the smallpox elghtpence."
Fortunately the spirit of this age Is
different from that
"THE SLEEPLESS ARCH."
Old Hindoo Principle the Basin of
All .Modern Brldfces.
Although the building of great arches
of masonry dates beyond the ancient
Roman civilization, the principle that
gives strength to the massive stone
bridges of today is the same that built
the bridges of the Roman empire.
The history of bridge building is, to
a large degree, the history of the arch,
whose elliciency lies in the truth of the
old Hindoo saying that "the arch never
sleeps" because each separate section
of which it consists, beginning at the
keystone, or central section. Is con
stantly pushing against its immediate
neighbors until the pressure finally
reaches the firm foundation upon which
the structure is erected.
To secure a perfectly trustworthy
foundation, therefore, the bridge build
er has often to penetrate far below the
surface of the earth, and not infre
quently the part of his structure thus
covered up and concealed Is greater
than that visible above ground.
It was their Inability to solve the
problem of a trustworthy foundation
that led the ancient Hindoos to dis
trust the arch, arguing that the sleep
less activity that held it together was
equally active In tearing it to pieces.
Not only is the modern bridge builder
sKilled in setting his structure on a
firm base, but thoroughly acquainted
with the time honored materials for
his work, to say nothing of new ma
terials, and an important part of his
student training in such modern schools
as the Massachusetts Institute of Tech
nology is devoted to methods of test
ing materials during construction that
would have surprised and delighted
even the most accomplished of the an
cient Roman engineers.
Hnrrylnff Up the Baby.
A correspondent sends us an extract
from a poem which recently appeared
In a South African paper, thinking wo
shall approve of its sentiments. We
do, we do. The inspired verse is enti
tled "Making a Man" and begins:
Hurry the baby as fast as you can.
Hurry htm. worry him, make him a man;
Off with his baby clothes, get him In
pants.
Feed him on brain foods and make him
advance:
Hustle him. soon as he's able to watyc.
Into a grammar school, cram him with
talk;
Fill his poor head full of figures and
facts.
Keep on a-jannnlng them in till it cracks.
London Review.
A Bargain Hunter.
It was a pleasant looking Irishwom
an, says the Philadelphia Ledger, who
walked into a store and asked the price
of the collars she had seen displayed
in the window.
"Two for a quarter," said the clerk.
"IIow much would that be for one?"
"Thirteen cents."
She pondered; then, with her forefin
ger, she seemed to be making invisible
calculations on the sleeve of her. coat
"That." she said, "would make the
other collar twilve cints, wouldn't it?
Just give me that wan."
A Pair of Misers.
Mr. and Miss Dancer were reputed
the most notorious misers In the eight
eenth century. The manner in which
this couple were found after death to
have disposed of their wealth was even
more strange than could have beon
their method of acquiring It. The total
value was 20.000, which was thus dis
posed of: Two thousand five hundred
pounds was found under a dunghill,
f00 In an old coat nniled to the man
ger In the stable, (XX) in notes was
hidden away Inx- an old teapot, the
chimney yielded 2,000 stowed in nine
teen different" crevices, and several
Jugs filled with coin were secreted In
the stable loft.
Mnrrlajce In the Isles of Greece. '
In Kaso, one of the most southern
Islands of Greece, the parents upon
both sides take upon themselves all the
responsibilities of courtship and mar
riage. Courtship, as we understand it
'Is not In any way permitted to the be
trothed couple. No moonlight walks or
tete-a-tetes are allowed. Such a conrse
would be deemed highly reprehensible,
and all wooing. If there be any, must
take place in the presence of the eld
ers. But there Is no great time fy re
pining at these decrees of custom, for
the marriage follows the offer aa
quickly as may be.