Decatur Democrat, Volume 39, Number 27, Decatur, Adams County, 20 September 1895 — Page 8

®he JJenwJcrat DBJCukTtm, IJW. jr, KUCTBUBW, ... PUM.WCTB. A cat farm has been established In Cincinnati. Its purr-puss Is to raise fur. Some of these days, if he Is liberated, Mr. Holmes may run up against a boneless man. Holmes' former friend, Allen, Is still confined In the Arkansas penitentiary, but his Imagination Is at large. English papers are discussing the question, “Should actresses be married?” Undoubtedly they should wheh»ver It Is possible. If heaven Is really like Boston, as a feoston woman asserts, those famous street pavements cannot be so very valuable after all. They aren’t over four feet wide. The manner In which he throws Blsftjarck bouquets now and then may Indicate a good deal of shrewdness as well as appreciation on the part of the Emperor of Germany. A saloon sandwich in Bridgeport, Conn., Instantly killed a man the other day. This seems queer; that Identical bandwich had done service since 1869 and never killed any one before. There is no danger that the example of the Chicago girl who was married in bloomers will be generally followed. Only about one girl In a thousand can find a man who will marry her after he has seen her in bloomers. A suburban resident is said to have built his house exactly alike In the front and back. His hope was, he explained, to foot the chickens into thinking they were on the front lawn when they were really in the back yard. So many woman are advertised in the morning papers as having “danced with the-Juke” at the golf club ball at Newport that It is presumed his grace, the Duke of Marlboro, has either a cast iron constitution or as many legs as a centipede. Guerrlta, “the famous Spanish bullfighter” who wishes to give an exhibition at Atlanta, is not wanted in the United States. It is explained by some that he “would not be allowed to hurt the bull,” but if he were not the alleged “fight” would be a humbug—a catchpenny fraud of the worst kind. If we are to have any sort of bull-fight let us have a genuine one for our money.But we want none at all. This is the United States of America, and the people of Georgia aYe Americans, not bullfighting barbarians. The statue to Burns’ Highland Mary is to be erected at Dunoon. More than a hundred years ago Burns flirted with Mary Campbell, to whom he was faithless, for he was already married to Jean Armour. However, he wrote beautiful verses about his Highland Mary—hence the statue. It is one of the paradoxes of human nature that this monument celebrates not the woman, who would have remained obscure had she never met Burns, but the poet who amused himself with a flirtation and with writing verses about It A woman who recently disappeared from New York under most mysterious circumstances has been discovered In a Connecticut town, shorn of her flowing hair, and serving Contentedly as a chambermaid. Prior to her disappearance she was principal of a school and to comfortable circumstances. She was missing three we,eks, and, on being discovered and coaxed out of her lethargy, asserted that the last Intelligent act she recalled doing was to buy a silk shirt waist at Macy’s. This is probably the first Instance on record of shopping driving a woman crazy and it ought to be very widely advertised. Few persons have much If any Idea of the extent of the oyster business or how large a quantity of oysters is consumed for food. The usual output Is not far from 30,000,000 bushels annually to the United States. Os this quantity Maryland produces about one-third of the total output Virginia ranks next, while New York, New Jersey and Connecticut follow close together. The value of the bivalves amounts to over 116,000,000. Reduce the output to bushels to quarts, and you have 960,000,000 quarts to distribute among some 65,-, 000,000 of people! From the Atlantic oyster beds the report is that the crustacean of the present year is unusually plentiful and excellent, and appearances Indicate that it may be possible to report charity oyster stews with more than the usual solitary bivalve before the season closes. Os all our domestic products that promise abundant yields this season there is not one that will be greeted with more genuine satisfaction than the oyster. It was reported some weeks ago that Mrs. Leland Stanford, because of the tletog up of her estate by the Government suit, had ordered the sale of her jewels to keep up the Stanford University on the scale contemplated by her husband; It is now said that she is about to. sell the horses and other flfie stock on her ranches that the proceeds may be devoted to the same purpose. No. matter what may be said of the equity of the late Senator Stanford’s title to his there can be no question of it in the mind of his widow. Believing to his goodness and greatness, ajie is making ous sacrifice

after another rather than see his wHI thwarted in the least particular. The object for which she is parting with her luxuries is a noble one, but to appreciate her own nobility of character —which in some greater or less measure is that of every woman—it must be remembered that the university was founded by her dead husband in memory of her dead son. Money can do a great deal, but It Is well to be thus reminded that it cannot spoil a good woman or eradicate the virtues ol wifehood and motherhood. From New York to San Francisco there is not a city of considerable size which may not soon find itself in imperative need of a vagrancy law so altered as to include those variegated deadheads who, under guise of wagers, are “doing” the country—end the people—to their globe-trotting evolutions. The first man who attempted to circumnavigate the earth In a given time while spending other people’s money was a picturesque genius. Since that time there have been a whole host of Imitators, and the fashion seems to bo spreading. Not a week has passed this season when some frowsy, ambling, down-at-heel “sport" has failed to appear In Chicago to “register” and incidentally to solicit Interviews and ham sandwiches. All that the vagrant of the statute books accomplishes against society is to feed off It without rendering an equivalent This the wagerbound tourist accomplishes and more. The law presumes that a man shall not have something for nothing, and when an individual capable of earning or paying his way starts out with the avowed intention of getting a great deal for nothing he becomes at the least a nuisance. Thirty days of s tone-pile might have a mighty wholesome effect upon some of these peripatetics. The attempt of certain paper manufacturers to form a trust strong enough to control the trade is a matter of concern to all publishers, but it still more nearly concerns the public. As a result of great scientific discoveries and inventions education is becoming more nearly universal to the United States than it has ever been in history. The advance from year to year has been so rapid that we have hardly realized what great things the use of woodpulp in paper-making is accomplishing. As long as rags alone were the material for paper it was impossible for the newspapers to reach the masses. The chemists who showed how to turn wood-pulp into paper showed how to get life-long dally education down to the very poorest—to those who have least to spend for it And to the last ten years It has been getting there with results which are too recent and too great to be realized In this generation. The attempt of certain paper manufacturers to undo what has been done, to restrict the production of paper, to bring back the old conditions, to take the benefit of the discovery of woodpulp away from the public that they themselves may monopolize it, is a conspiracy against the dissemination of knowledge. The paper trust will find It a losing business. Progress never goes backward. Cheap paper is a necessity of universal education, and no paper trust will succeed In stopping the advance of civilization. The assertion that the corn crops of Missouri, Kansas, Illinois and Texas alone will give 1,800,000 carloads of surplus for shipment is made on good authority, and as the wheat crop of the West Is also large it is evident that the good fortune of the agricultural States this year will be shared by the railroads and the holders of their securities. Three good crop years In succession would do more to take the Western roads out of the hands of receivers than any possible amount of financiering. A single crop Such as that of this year is likely to prdve will put them in good shape for the future, and It will be their own fault if the future is not as satisfactory as it ought to be. What they chiefly need is a general policy tending to result In the widest possible distribution of all commodities from the point of production to the points of demand. Whenever Western roads begin to give the people of the East the largest possible amount of breadstuffs and provisions for the least possible freight rates consistent with a fair profit they will inaugurate a new economic era characterized by satisfactory relations between West and East and by Increasing profits to themselves as the connecting links between the producers and consumers of the two sectibns. The improvement in iron and other metals, the marked prosperity of the textile industry and the probability of greatly increased activity in the railroad carrying trade give the country all it could ask In the way of business prospects. Uncle Sam’s Electric Plant. An important change is about to be made in the Government printing office at Washington, -where the whole of the heavy shafting and expensive belting hitherto employed will be removed to make room for an electrical equipment, The office Is to be entirely lighted by electricity, and it is estimated thit this reform alone will save the Government $1,200 a month in gas bills. Much of the machinery will be operated by electric power Instead of steam, and nearly all of the work of several of the departments will be done by electric motors. The fact that 70,000 feet of wire and 10,000 feet of flexible, cord are to be purchased suggests the comprehensive nature of the Installation. “Did your wife say anything when you got home so late?” “Nbt when I got home,” said the other man, sadly. “She waited till 1 got asleep and then got up about 5 o’clock to practice on the piano.”—lndianapolis Journal,

. R NIGHT RIDE BY LUKE SHARP. The bicycle is a queer Instrument. You think you know all about it, then suddenly you find there are still things to learn. The other evening I got on tny bicycle and worked my way for five or six miles through one of the prettiest lanes in England to a country village where a friend of mine lives. The lane which leads to this village is one in which I did a good deal of practicing when I first took to the bicycle some months ago. It is bordered by hedges and trees on each side, and looks like a long green tunnel through which the sun sends some flittering, flickering rays down on the excellent roadway, making a sort of dancing carpet of light and shade, eternally weaving themselves together, and mimicking in shadow and sunshine the interlacing of the trees above. But there is, alas, along the side of this lane a ditch with which I have before now made acquaintance while teaching myself how to ride. It is always a pleasant experience for a bicycle to revisit a spot where he has had his conflicts with the machine. It gives him a sense of having accomplished something. I recognized all the places where I had been thrust through the hedge. It was nice to know that these exciting days were past, and that I now rode the machine as if I were a part of it. The lane is a lonely place at any time of the day; broader roadsand more direct ones lead to the little village I have spoken of, but whose name I need not mention . My friend proved so entertaining that I stayed on and on. I was invited to stop for dinner and I did. I was afterward censured for this when I ultimately did reach home. People in the country, I was told, were not always prepared to receive unexpected visitors to dinner. It was not the thing to drop down with my bicycle upon a helpless man in the country and then hang around the premises until I was invited to dinner. lam always putting my foot in it this way. It makes me feel guilty afterward, but what is a man to do ? It was pitch dark when I left the house, and when I came to the entrance of the lane it was even darker than pitch, if such a thing be possible., I lit my bicycle lamp for the first time in my life. The lamp had I cost me a lot of money and was said to be the best in the market, but when it tried to compete with the appalling darkness of the lane I saw what a futile thing it was. It shed a dim circle of light a long way ahead, that didn’t seem- to me to be of much practical use. I pushed the machine along and sprang lightly on its back. Now I thought I knew how to ride perfectly, but I was to find out that riding in the broad daylight and riding in the darkness are two entirely different things. The machine gave a wobble first in one direction and then in the other, and my heart came into my mouth when I found that unless I saw the wheel I did not know how to balance the concern. Sitting down a moment afterward, fortunately not on the side where the ditch was, I had some time to meditate on the situation. The wheel was on top of me, and the lamp was out. This was old times over again, and I had not seen the chance in the darkness to select the spot on which to fall. I did not like the idea of trundling the machine all the way along the lane when I ought to be able to do so much better time on its back, so I rose slowly, placed the machine upright again, and relit the lamp. The lamp hung on a couple of vacillating flanges which apparently are actuated by springs and give the lamp a wobbly motion when you joggle unexpectedly over a stone. I got once more upon the machine, this time with better success, and we went along nicely for some distance; then I got off again. Coming along that road in the daylight the lane Beertied perfectly smooth and unobstructed ; yet 1 suddenly came against some unseen obstacle that appeared to me as I alighted to be a boulder lying on the road. It was in reality a stone about the size of my fist. The lamp had gone out, of course, simultaneously with my fall. This one I have goes out whenever I joggle over anything. I have, been told that it was on account of the oil I was using, but I have since secured the most expensive oil' in the market, an oil with a beautiful name, but the lamp joggles out just the same. After going over the stone I saw that 1 had to do something definite with the lamp. I took out my handkerchief and tied down the springs, so that the disk of light touched the front wheel. This wasn’t so bad, as it showed me plainly the stones in the road, but hardly in time for me to avoid them, although ! did dodge some by performing acrobatic feats that usually led to the ditch. In my evolutions and anxiety about the lamp I had forgotten the existence of that ditch, but it was there, just the saine r >lying low and saying nothing. I found it without the least trouble. The lamp went out again, of course, and I began to fear that I would not have matches enough, to last until I got into the radius of street lamps. I crawled out of the ditch, righted the machine and' once more applied a match to the wick. I had lost the handkerchief, but I tied the lamp down with the oiling cloth. I was bowling along at a rapid and • satisfactory pace, through the bright circle of light in front or me, when all at once, within an incredible short distance, there appeared before me a young man and young woman, strolling along together with their arms about each >■ ■ ,

others waists. Their backs were toward me, and the lamp did not shine far enough ahead to let them know I was coining. Os course, if I had had presence of mind I could have steered around them and passed on, but they had become so suddenly silhouetted against the darkness, just as a magic lantern picture is thrown upon a screen, that the unexpected sight drove what little sense I had clear away from me, and I gave one terrific yell fit to rouse any recently dead man and flung myself from the machine. The girl complicated matters by wildly throwing her arms around the young man’s neck and calling upon him to protect her, which he had no chance to do, because the next instant the machine climbed his back. We three were in a heap in that silent lane before arty of us knew what had .happened, and, of course, the lamp wont out. Byway of excusing myself, and saying something conciliatory, I shouted out: •‘What in the name of the Prince of Darkness are you two dawdling along this lane in the middle of the night for?” The young man turned to me in rather harsh language that if I would be good enough to wait there until he found hisstick he would show me what ho was doing. However, I found my machine first, and being in an utterly reckless mood I sprang upon it without examining it to see if anything were broken or not, though I knew that no ordinary fall would injure that machine, and away I went and left them there. I did not see that any explanation on my part would help matters, so I thought it best to leave well enough alone, which I did. Little use as the lamp was, I found it had its advantages, because the lane turned a short distance ahead; in fact, it was always turning, even in the daylight, although I had never noticed that particularly before, and this time I ran square into the hedge on the side opposite the ditch. I extricated the machine and once more lit the lamp. I thought perhaps it was safer not to attempt to ride any more, and so walked along, trundling the wheel, for I knew there was a bridge some distance ahead that had no parapets and I did not want to enter into an encounter with it. As I walked along beside the bicycle I saw something move on the side of the road and within the circle of light. A stalwart, unkempt tramp, who had been making the roadside his bedroom, rose up on his elbow and said menacingly: ‘‘Say, marster, can you oblige me with a match?” ‘‘Yes, I can,” I said, climbing up on my machine and putting the wheels in motion. “Get on your bicycle and we’ll have a match. Come along!” He merely stood up and cursed me in loud and forcible language. I thought my troubles well over on coming to the street lamps. I was bowling along within half a mile of iny own house when suddenly a policeman stepped out into the middle of the road. “Stop!” he cried, and having a respect for the law I stopped and got off the machine. “What are you doing,” he demanded, “traveling with your lamp out?” “Good gracious!” I said, “my lamp isn’t out,” but on looking around I found, alas, it was, and I had not noticed the fact, so well was the street lighted. I assured him that it had been lighted a moment before and that it must have jogged out. “If you will put your hand on the lamp,” I said, “you will find it is quite hot.” He did so and shook his head. I touched the lamp myself, for it, when lighted, becomes uncomfortably hot (it smokes worse than I do), and, would you believe it, it was as cold as a rich relation from whom you want to borrow money. “You will have to come with me,” he said. “Won’t a cash payment down save me the troule of appearing before a magistrate?” “No, it won’t,” said the policeman, “I must do my duty.” I detest a policeman who has to do his duty, so I said : “Oh, very well; I joggled some money out of my pocket as I dropped off. You took me so by surprise. I’m going to light my lamp an&look for it.” I lit the lamp and backed the machine up a bit. The policeman kindly helped me to look for the coins, but when his back was bent I pushed my machine forward a,bit and sprang on it. My lamp was lit. He blow his whistle, but I managed to turn down a side street, then down another and so managed to get safely home. But much as I like the bicycle I have made up my mind that night rides are too exciting for me until I get. a lamp that, like that policeman, will do its duty. Great Blast. Seven tons of gunpowder wereemploped in a great blast at Penrhyn Quarries, Bethesda, North Wales. The object in view was the demolition of a’huge pinnacle of rock, which has been a picturesque object for generations, and which must be a familiar memory to the thousands who visit the spot every year. Some idea of the gigantic dimensions of the place may be gathered from the fact that the rodk face between the different terraces is somewhere about sixty feet in depth. The peak rose in the midst of the amphitheatre formed by the quarries—it is estimated to have contained oyer 125,000 tons. Quite a crowd gathered to witness the effect of the blast, and certainly those present were not disappointed in the spectacle afforded. On the signal being given, the gunpowder was Ignited, afld hmld the curling smoke the pinnacle was seen to totter, and then to fall In fragment* to the bottom.

AFTER THE BEAR ATE KENNEDY A Story of Terrible Suffering by the Man Who Woe Not Eaten, Ira P. Smith, commercial agent of the north and south road, returned yesterday morning from a trip along the line. He tells a story which verifies the saying that truth is stranger than fiction. While he was going to Ash Fork a young man stepped aboard the train at Jerome Junction who looked like the second edition of Rip Van Winkle. The strange and uncouth being was undoubtedly young, but his face was pinched and drawn with hunger and his eyes large and haggard. His clothes hung about him in shreds, while the flesh that showed through the rents was lacerated and bruised. The aspect of the young man was one to excite pity. Mr. Smith spoke to the young man and asked him the cause of his forlorn appearance. The young fellow stated that nearly three weeks ago he and another young man named Kennedy left Williams to go to Jerome to get work in the mines. Not having an abundance of money they concluded to walk the entire distance. They experienced nothing out of the ordinary until the third day on the trip. On that day about noon they were descending a mountain when a commotion in their rear caused them to look around, and to their horror they beheld a large cinnamon bear making directly for them. To think was to act, and the young man who tells the adventure dropped to the ground and rolled down the hill over brush, cactus and stones to an arroya below, When he arrived at the bottom he was nearly insensible from his contact with stones and cacti. He painfully picked himself up and could distinguish the agonizing cries of Kennedy on the hill above, and he felt certain his companion was in the clutches of the animal. The cries soon ceased, and the young man set to work picking the cactus points that literally covered his person. The process was slow, tedious, and attended with great agony. After he had rid himself of most of the cactus points he literally covered the wounds with mud to keep down the inflammation, and started up the arroya. Each succeeding day brought him no sign of a human habitation, and his lacerations made progress slow. He subsisted on berries and the fruit of the cactus, which he sucked to obtain moisture when water was not to be found. Each night he lay down thinking it was his last on earth, but would awaken in the morning, stiff from the bruises and weak from hunger, but he staggered on, and on the ninth day .struck Jerome Junction, more dead than alive. He was taken care of by the railroad people and given proper nourishment and was sent north on the nexttrain. He stated that he was going to Flagstaff to organize a party to search for the remains of Kennedy. Con Kennedy, a brother of the missing man, has also started out from Williams with a large party to discover the remains. Art in Sign Painting. Perhaps one of the most unique signs is located high up on the almost perpendicular side of Ruch’s Hill at the big “8" curve on Fifth avenue, just above Soho. Coming in, the pedestrian or cable-car passenger sees a shed with a small window, out of which is thrust the head of a lean, hungry-looking horse. The first thought of a person looking at it is why anybody should build a stable in such an inaccessible place, surrounded with nothing but rocks, with no apparent way-for the horse to get to and from it. While the person is pondering over the question he passes around the curve, and lie is in a position to get a side view of the supposed shed, when he discovers it to be nothing but a board sign with a picture of the stable and horse skilfully painted upon it. The sign looks so realistic at the distance at which it is placed that it has fooled many people, some of whom to this day have not discovered the deception, and are wondering why that horse is always looking out of the window. So there was some excuse for the old colored man, aside from his eyes not being as good as they used to be, when he went to Superintendent Ned Dorente of the AntiCruelty Society and made serious complaint against an unknown man who kepi his horse in a shed on Ruch’s Hill, who to his certain knowledge had not fed or watered the animal for weeks. He said the horse must be famished, as its head was continually looking out of the window in a most pathetic way. With the Anti-Cruelty Society’s usual promptitude, Mr. Dorente sent an agent to investigate the complaint, but after searching the bill diligently he had to give up his quest. As he was waiting for the cable car he saw the old colored man who had made the complaint and he asked him for more specific directions. The old man pointed to the sign on the side of the hill, and when told by the agent it was merely a sign and no stable, be would not be convinced until he had walked around the bend and “seen for himself.” Queer Pranks of Lightning. The Paducah (Ky.) News says that lightning played some queer pranks in that good town the other day: “It wrapped itself around the spire of the First Presbyterian Church like a snake, and took off the slate covering in strips. It burned the hair from one side of Mrs. M. J. Williams’ head, on Clay street, yefcdid not injure'tfiie woman nor the child which she held in her arms at the time. It knocked Abe Stone, colored, senseless, as he sat in a stable loft, and when he recovered he found that it had removed nearly all his clothes. It jerked an umbrella from a young man’s hand and left his arm paralyzed for an hour. It scared a negro into convulsions at the People’s Electrio Company’s plant on Second street. The erratic bolts performed all sorts of funny freaks, to fact.

A MODEL 11,000 COTTAGE. And Ono That the Owner Can Build by Day's Work. Tho greatest majority must dvwll in small houses, limited means de. termines that question. But art can give beauty and unity of design to cottages, and nature does not refuse to ornament Jhem with vines and surround them with flowers and foliage. So far as the exterior appearances are concerned email cottages of good design with well kept surroundings, maybe very pleasing indeed, often vieing in attractiveness with their larger and more preton-V) tlous neighbors. • There are more valid reasons for being dissatisfied with the interiors; / fir AiKniiem the number of rooms must be limited and they must be of small, or, at most, of only moderate size; there can be no plumbing to speak of, no hardwood floors or finish, no high ceilings, no large cellars. A large cellar under a low cost house is where the owner often buries a disproportionate sum. Excavating, walls of brick or stone and a cement bottom are costly, and it should be borne In mind that a cellar does not provide living rooms. Unless a cellar be well built it is a positive source of danger to health. For low cost cottages it may be safely stated as a rule that where the soil has good natural drainage a small cellar or no cellar is preferable. A cheaply built large cellar will be damp and therein lies the danger. A description of the cottage which is illustrated in this article, will be found herewith. Size of structure—width (over all) 27 feet, depth 80 feet. Materials sot exterior walls—foundations, stona , r or brick first story, clap boards; sec•I? I £ n >1 ny > JLm -r [*i ond story, shingles; roof, shingles. Height of stories —cellar, 6 feet.fl inches; first story, 8 feet 6 inches; second story, 8 feet. Sizes of rooms shown by the floor plans; there is a cellar under the hall and parlor. Special features—this small cottage design is not intended to be “striking”; it would be in bad taste to make it pretentious. But it has architectural features, such as graceful proportions, a long, sloping roof, mullion windows, and a front projecting gable, supported by cantilevers that save it from being commonplace, It has the merit o! displaying no cheap and tawdry trimmings, nothing like “sawed” work. Everything is substantial, but no expensive materials are required and thd work can be well done by mechanics of ordinary skill. But tha real merit of the design is found in the interior. Here are six rooms, averaging a fair size, each opening on a passage, all but one joining the central chimney stack, with a stairway and ample closets inclosed within walls that cover an area of only 740 square feet. The amateur designer will find it an interesting study to rearrange the rooms and add-a single inch to the accommodations of this cottage. Simple and effective ventilation is secured by raising a scuttle which is mnT irT f - gmiL 1run i placed in the ceiling over the second floor passage, thereby creating an air current which passes into the open attic and out through the small Louvre windows in the gables. Whenever the rooms on either floor are “stuffy,” it will be found that raising the scuttle will clear the atmosphere in a few minutes. z In any but the coldest climate they’. heat from the fireplace and the kitchen stove will sufficiently warm the parlor, and it will ascend the stairway and sufficiently warm the second floor rooms. # The cost of building this cottage in the vicinity of New York City ia about SI,OOO. Os course there are builders who will declare that this is absurd; it seems to be Habitual with some of them to declare all estimates not made by themselves as absurd; they can make these declarations with their eyes shut, without looking sb the design at all.