Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, May 03, 1907, Image 1
" ISSUED SEMI-WKEKil^
l. ic. grist's sons. Publishers. { % ^arnitg Jletrspapcr: J'or the promotion of the political, Social. Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the people. {1K",?* 0jS 'JXX A>I K'
ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, 9. C., FRIDAYTMAY 3, 1907~.~ N~o736T
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SYNOPSIS.
Chapter I?Bob Brownley creates a
- i? Ttr^n ?TT? t? M A#
panic in nan sireci. no is a. menu v>
Jim Randolph of Randolph & Randolph,
bankers and brokers. Brownley
and Randolph had gone to college together
and entered the employ of Randolph's
father at the close of college
days. Brownley Is a Virginian by
birth. Beulah Sands, daughter of an
old Virginia house, calls on Brownley
and tells him her father has been
practically ruined by the stock operations
of Reinh'art. She hopes to utilize
her own money in Wall street in
retrieving her father's fortunes before
his condition becomes known, and
asks for employment in the office that
she may have an opportunity to better
understand how her money Is Invested.
She does not want It used In a
purely Wall street gamble, but in the
buying and selling of legitimate securities.
Brownley agrees to help her,
and falls in love with her.
Chapter II?Brownley plunges in
sugar stock. He uses the money of
Miss Sands, his own and in addition
is backed heavily by the Randolph
millions. His coup seems successful,
and he tells Miss Sands that she has
cleared $1,800,000. But the market
had not closed.
Chapter III?Barry Conant, head
broker for Standard Oil and sugar interests,
suddenly begins to sell "sugar."
In the midst of a panic he breaks the
market and with its fall carries away
the earnings and much of the capital
of both Miss Sands and himself. A
pretty love scene occurs between the
two at the office when Bob attempts
to tell her the terrible truth of their
fall. Brownley takes a trip to Virginia.
Chapter IV?Beulah Sands and Bob
Decome enKa?eu. , xuuiuuipu ?a?w w
loan her father the money to meet his
obligations. She refuses.
"Mr. Randolph, I Could Not Tell My
CHAPTER IV?Continued.
"Mr. Randolph, I could not deceive
father. I could not tell him a lie even
to save his life. It would be impossible.
My father abhors a lie. He believes
a man or woman who would lie
the lowest of the low things on earth.
When I go back to my father he will
say: 'Tell me what you have done.' I
can just just see him now, standing
between the big white pillars at the
end of the driveway. I can hear him
saying calmly: 'Beulah, my daughter,
welcome. Your mother is waiting for
you in her room. Do not lose a moment
getting to her.' Afterward he'll
take me over the plantation to show
me all the familiar things, and not one
word will he allow me to say about
our affairs until dinner is over, un
til the neighbors have left, for no
Sands returns from long absence without
a fitting home welcome. When I
have said good night to mother and
sister and he has drawn up my rocker
in front of his big chair in the library
alcove and I've lighted his cigar
for him, he will look me in the eye
and say: 'Daughter, tell me what you
have done.' I would no more think
of holding anything back than I would
of stabbing him to the heart. No, Mr.
Randolph, there is no possibility of relief
except in fairly using that $30,000
and fairly winning back what Willi
street has stolen from father. Even
that will cause both of us many twinges
of conscience, and anything more is
impossible. If this cannot be done, father
must, all of us must, pay the
penalty of Reinhart's ruthless act."
Bob had listened, but made no comment
until she was through; then he
said: "It looks to me as though the
market is shaping up so that we may
be able to do something soon." It
was evident to both of us that he
had some plan in mind.
Later we learned that that night
Beulah wrote her father a long letter,
telling him what she had done; that
she had maue aimosi two iiiiukiiib
profit from her operations; that they
had been lost, and that the outlook
was not reassuring. She begged him
to prepare himself for the final calamity;
promising that if there were no
change for the better by December 1,
she would come home to be with him
when the blow fell. She begged him
to prepare to meet it like a Sands,
and assure him that if worse came to
worst she would earn enough to keep
poverty away. Judge Sands would receive
this letter the second day following.
Friday, the 13th day of No
J vember. My God! how well I know ^
the date. It Is seared Into my Drain
as though with a white-hot Iron.
After our talk with Beulah Sands c
I begged Bob to dine with me and go 1
over matters at length to see if we *
could, not find a way out to relief.
"No, Jim, I have work to do tonight, 0
work that won't wait. That tariff bill 1
was buttoned,up today, and It has a
Just been announced that the Sugar v
directors have declared a big extra 1
dividend. Things have come out Just '
about as I told you they would, and
the stock is climbing today. They ^
say it will touch 200 tomorrow, and
'the street' is predicting 250 for it in 0
ten days. Barry Conant has been a 1
steady buyer all day and the news bu- *
reaus announced that Camemeyer and *
the 'Standard OH' are twenty millions a
winners. They say the Washington a
gamblers, the congressmen, senators 8
and cabinet members with their heel- e
ers and lobbyists have made a killing.
About every one seems to have d
fattened up. Jim, but you and me and p
Beulah Sands and the public. The *
public gets the ax both ways, as 8
usual. They have been shaken out of 0
their stock, and they will be com- ^
f:
pelled to pay mlllons more eacn year
for their sugar than they would If
this law had not been made for their 8
benefit. Jim. there is no disguising e
the fact that the American people are ^
as helpless in the hands of these thugs 8
of the 'system* as though they lived fl
in the realm of the sultan, where a *
Father a Lla Evan to Save Hla Life." 1
o
h
few cutthroat brigands are licensed to v
rob and oppress to their heart's con- u
tent. Jim Randolph, you know this a
game of fipance. You know how it is ^
worked, and the men who work it. u
Tell me if there is any consideration ^
due Wall street and its heart-and-soul ^
butchers at the hands of honest men." v
"1 do not know what you mean,
Bob. What are you driving at?"
"Never mind what I am. driving at.
I ask you whether, if an honest man ^
knew how to beat Wall street at its ^
own game, he should hesitate to beat
it?hesitate because of anything connected
with conscience or morals?
You saw what Barry Conant was able
to do to us that day simply by stand- ^
ing on the tloor of the stock exchange
and outstaying me in opening and
closing his mouth. You saw he was
able to sell Sugar to a point so low r
that I was obliged to let go of our a
150,000 shares at $8,000,000 to $10,000,- ?
000 less than we could have got for
them if we could have held them until
today. Because of this trick his 0
clients, the 'system,' instead of us,
make live to seven millions."
"I don't follow you, Bob. I know J
that Barry Conant was able to do this
because he had more money behind ?
him than you."
cl
"You think so, do you, Jim? That t
is the way It looks to you, but I tell v
[ you money naa notning u> u<> wnn n. j
Nothing had to do with it but the j.
fiendish system of fraud and trickery
I upon which the whole stock-gambling
| structure is reared. Nothing entered
into the whole business but the trick!
ery of stock-gambling as conducted
today. It was only a question, Jim, of
a man's opening and closing his mouth
and spitting out words. From the
minute Barry Conant came into that
crowd until he left and we were ruined.
he showed no money, no anything
that I did not show. From the very
nature of the business he could not.
I He simply said: 'Sold' oftener and
(longer than I said 'Buy.' He may have
, had money back of him, or he may
only have had nerve. God Almighty
is the only one who can tell, for when
Conant was through he was able to
buy back at 90 the 50,000 shares he
sold me at 175, the 50,000 that broke
my back. Jim. if I had known as
much that day as I do now I would
have stood in that crowd and bought
all the stock he sold at 180, and I
would have stood there buying until
hell froze over or he quit: then I
would have made him rebuy it at 280
or 2,080, and I would have broken him
ind all his Camemeyer and "Standard
>11" backers; broken them to their
ast crime-covered dollar."
"Bob, what are you talking about?
t is all Chinese to me. I cannot get
lead or tail of what you are driving
it."
"I know you can't, Jim, neither
:ould Wall street if It were listening
o me. But you will, and Wall street
vlll, too, before many days go by.
>Iow I must be oft. I have work to
lo."
He put on his hat and left me tryng
to puzzle out Just what he meant
Next day t&e Sugar bulls had the
:enter of the stock exchange stage.
V.11 day long they tossed Sugar from
me to another, as though each thouand
shares had been a wisp of hay
nstead of $200,000?for soon after the
ipenlng it soared to 200. The "sysem's"
cohorts were in absolute conrol,
with Barry Conant never a minite
away from the Sugar-pole, always
>n the alert to steer the course of
nice when they threatened to run
.way on the up or the down side. It
i'as evident to the expert readers of
he tape that the "system" was carying
its steed for an exceptionally
irilliant run. Ike Bloomenstein, the
tvenger Fiend, who for 40 years had
;ept close track of every movement
n the floor, and who would bet anyhing.
from his Fifth avenue mansion
o his overripe boardroom straw hat,
hat all stocks and movements were
s strictly subject to the law of averges
as are the tides to the moon and
un, remarked to Joe Barnes, the loan
xpert:
" 'Cam' unt de Keroseners are puding
up egstra dop rails to dot woolen
deh haf ben pilding since deh took
'op Prownlee and deh Rantolphs into
amp. Unless my topesheet goes pack
n me, for deh first dime in 40 years,
lere vlll pe a record clip pefore a veek
rom to-tay."
"I am with you there, Ike," anwered
Joe. "If Barry Conant's knifedged
teeth ever spelt a klllin', tl>ey
0 today. I just got orders from
omewhere to drop call money from
our to two and a half per cent, and
hey have given me ten millions to
Irop it with and the order is to faor
Sugar as 'collat.' Some one Is
nxious to make it easy for the bleatrs
to get the coin to buy all the
iugar they want. Ike, you and I might
take turkey money for Thanksgiving,
1 we only knew whether Barry and his
unch were going to shoot her up 30
r 40 points before they turned the bag
pslde down, or whether they will
ury them from 200 to 150. What do
ou think?"
"I gant make out, aldo I haf vatchd
dem sharp all day. Dey certainly
at deh lambs lined up right now
or any vey dey vont to twist Id.
nefer see a petter market for a delge.
For Barry's movements all day
should say dey vould keep hoistln'
er until apout noon tomorrow, unt
at deh might get her up to two-tlrty
r even to deh two-fifty. Put dere are
on or two topes on deh sheet vhat
un deh under vay. First der Is dey
act you gant run out, dat dere Is aleaty
on deh Sugar vagon deh plggest
md of chulcy suckers dat efer game
i from deh suppurbs. Sharley Pates
ays If any von hat tapped his Vashngton
vire er any utter capital vlre
is veek he vould haf tought dere vas a
enate, house, unt kabinet roll-gall on.
)eh topes say 'Cam' vlll nefer led dat
unch off grafters slite out mlt real
locney If he gan help Id unt deh
ame iss endirely in his hands."
"I agree with you, Ike. If I had the
teering of this killing, I don't think
would take any chance of tempting
hem to dump and grab the profits by
arrylng it much over 200. But you
an't tell what Camp' and those fouryed
dent.^s at 26 Broadway will do."
"Yes, put der iss anudder t'ing,
'ho, dat makes me sit up unt plink
bout her goin' ofer two hundred. Tomorrow's
Friday der t'lrteenth."
"Of course, Ike, that Is something
o be reckoned with, and every man
n the floor and in the street as well
as his eye on it. Friday, the 13th,
>'ould break the best bull market ever
nder way. You and I know that, Ike
nd the dope shows it, too, but you
ave got to stack this up against It
n this trip: No man on the floor
nows what Friday, the 13th, means
letter than Barry Conant. He has
rorked it to the queen's taste many a
ime. Why, Barry would not eat toay
for fear the food would get stuck
a his windpipe. He's never left the
iole for a minute; but suppose, Ike
iarry had tipped off 'Cam' that all
he boys will let go their fliers, and
nost of them will take one on the
hort side over tonight for a superstiious
drop at the opening; and supiose
'Cam' has told him to take
hem all into camp and give her a rafer-scraper
at the opening, where
rould old Friday, 13th, land on tonorrow's
dope-sheets? Bring up the
verage, wouldn't it, for five years to
ome? I tell you. Ike, she's too deep
or me this run, and I'm goin' to let
ler alone and pay for the turkey out
f loan commissions or stick to plain
rork-day food."
"Zame here, Cho. Say, Cho, haf you
loticed Pop Prownlee to-tay? He has
rozen to deh fringe off dat Sugar
rown ess t'ough some von hat nipped
is scarf pin unt he vos layin' for him
is he game out. He hasn't made a
rade to-tay unt yet he sticks like a
stamp-tax. I been keeping my eyes on
limh for I t'ought he hat somedlng up
lis sieeve dat might raise tust ven he
ropt id. I dink Parry has hat deh
inme Hear He never loses sieht of
lim. yet Pop hasn't made a trade toay,
unt here id iss 20 minutes of der
flose unt dere is Parry in deh center
igain whooping her up ofer two hunler
unt four."
How To Live Well.?Be courteous
o all. but intimate with few, and let
hose few be well tried before you give
hem your confidence. The friendship
s a plant of slow growth and must
indergo and withstand the shocks of
idversity before it is entitled to the
ippellation. Let your heart feel for
he afflictions and distress of every
>ne, and let your hand give in proporion
to your purse, remembering alva.vs
the estimation of the widow's
nite, that it is not every one that
isketh that deserveth charity. All,
lowever, are worthy of the inquiry, or
he deserving may suffer. Do not con eive
that fine clothes make fine men
tny more than fine feathers make fine
>irds. A plain, genteel dress is more
tdmired and obtains more credit than
ace and embroidery in the eyes of the
udicious and sensible.?George Washngton
in a letter to his nephew, Bushod
Washington, 1783, in Scrap Book.
iHiscfllanous Reading.
GOOD LUCK IN AMBERGRIS.
Ill Fortune, Too with These Windfade
of the Sea.
"Yes," said Cap'n Silas Babbidgeas
he shut his Jackknife with a snap and
poked tobacco Into his pipe with aj
muscular forefinger, "Yes, sir, money's
the makln' o' some folks an' the ruination
o' more. When a man gets his
money by hard grubbin', like goin'
coastin', why then he 'predates it an'
holds onto it. but when, ez in this case,it
jest drops on to him, like a rock
outer the sky?well, then he's got to
be conslder'ble of a man to stan* up
under It."
The sallmaker, who. was the educated
one of the ship chandlery debating
club, had been reading about the two
Lebec men who had found a lump of
ambergris worth 130,000.
"This here anbergrease Is curl's
stufT," said the cap'n. "No man knows
where It comes from, an' no one ever
heered a sallorman that pretended to
know. It's only land lubbers that can-1
tell you all about 1L My. own notion
Is that the stuff comes offn the bottom,
where It grows same's mushrooms
or such like. Off soundln's, an' In Injy
an' Afriky waters, where It's hot
weather all the time, they's prob'ly!
I
any amount of It floatln", but the stuff
looks so much like dirty suds that not
one lump In. a million's ever picked up.
Ain't no sense huntin' for it?might
cruise 'round for years 'thout ever
fallin' in with a bit of it; when a lump
Is picked up you can set It down to
Jest luck?good luck or bad luck, 'cordIn',
as I said, to the man.
"It's only oncet in a dog's age that
a lump of ambergrease Is picked up In
these here waters, 'cause the stuff
don't thrive up In sech cold corners ea
Maine an' the Bay o' Fundy, or else
it's got a better holt on the bottom. I
don't recollect but two lumps beln'
found afore this one over to Campobello:
never shall forglt them two,
though. One fixed up a morgidge,
bought a controllin' interest In a good
vessel an' brought on three weddln's;
t'other made a miserable hoss Jockey
outen a man that might a bin sailin'
of his own vessel now.
"The first lump I'm speakln' of came
accidental like, in this fashion: When
Jabez Richardson, over to Little Deer
Isle, he got too old an' stiff to go any
more, he put his two boys and his
nephew, 'Lonzo Greenjaw, Into his vessel,
the Shootin' Star, an' went to
farmin'. Good, smart boys them three,
an' for a few trips they was doin' fust
rate, but then luck it set agin 'em.
Thev loaded out !o Bangor two or
three times, but lumber freights to
Boet'n fell, an' with the price o' grub
where it was, an' tow bills an' so on,
they 'c'cluded there warn't nothin' to
be made in that blsness an' made a
shift to stone carryin'. Took a load
o' pavln" out o' Prospect for New York
and flggered on gettln* coal back to
somewheres east o' the Cape. I told
'em, an' other cap'ns told 'em, that
the Shootin' Star warn't fit for that
trade, beln' old, an' nothin' done on
her fer ten year 'cept to drive a handful
of oakum Into her oncet In a while,
so that with a sinkable cargo she was
H'ble to go out f'm under 'em any
time. But the boys wouldn't hear to
any one, an* they piled that granite
into her 's though It 'd bin dry lumber.
l,TTr-11 Ur. rlmunh mnro'n Cflt I
vvt'11, me; nauii i Iiiuvu iv?v.?ov"i
outer the bay when it come on to blow,
'an fust thing they knew, them boys,
she was flllln' up. Pump? Might Jest
'8 well try to pump out Bost'n Bay.
Had to grab their kits an' git outer
her quickern scat. She went down like
a bag o' sand when they was barely
clear of her, an' then, seein' what 'd
come o' tryin' to carry stone in a
wicker basket, they pulled ashore.
They "was close into Port Clyde when
a sea boarded them an' 'most filled the
boat, an' it got so nasty after that they
had a tight squeeze, with two pullin'
an' one ballin', to git ashore at all. J
Fin'lly they made a cove that looked
snug, an' jumped out an' yanked her
up on the beach. When they turned
her over to free her, out along with
the water come somethln' that 'd bin
slumpin' an' thumpin' 'round in her
stern sheets. It fell with a sort o'
squashy bump on Bill Richardson's
feet, an' he Jest kicked it away, 'thout
lookln' at it. They built a fire an'
stayed 'round till daylight, an' then
'Lonzo Greenlaw he went down to take
a look at the boat. Layin' there, with
the print o' Bills boot in It, was a
big gob o' somethln' that 'Lonzo took
for taller, or some kind o' grease, an'
bein' a savin' sort of cuss 'Lonzo he
jest picked it up an' heaved it under
the midship thort (thwart.) 'Good to
soften up boots with,' sez he to himself,
an' he brought a hunk of it up
to the fire to melt it.
"'What's that?' says Bill.
" 'Oh, taller', says 'Lonzo.
" 'Smells like 'fumery,' says Colfax,
Bill's brother.
" "*' '"""1 ? oava 'T^nZOI
^/UOOCU JL ll UUli V| najki , .
'well, we've got a good big chunk of
it;
"Well, sir, while they were waitin'
there at Port Clyde for a vessel to get
away In, along comes one o' the guv'ment
flshln' steamers, which had all
kinds o* scientific gear an' collldge
perfessers aboard. The cap'n o' the
steamer said he'd give 'em a tow up
to Rockland, an' prob'ly .set 'em over
home to Deer Isle, an' they got aboard,
payin' the boat out on a long painter
astern. Hadn't more'n got under way
when one o' the scientific chaps he begin
a-sntffln' 'round where 'Lonzo was
a-leanin' over the rail, a-shavin' up a
bit o' the taller, like a cake o' soap.
"'What yer got there?' says he,
lookin' over 'Lonzo's shoulder. 'Let's
see It.'
I UIICI, Bttj a LiUII&U.
" 'Taller be hanged,' says the Ash
sharp, stlckln' the lump up to his nose
an' rubbin* it with his finger, 'that's
ambergrease. Where'd you git It?
hey?'t
" 'Oh,' says 'Lonzo, 'got it down here
a piece. Any good?'
"The scientific chap he give 'Lonzo
one look, disgusted like, and raced off
to the cap'n o' the steamer with the
lump. Pretty soon the two- of them
came aft and began askin' questions
faster"n 'Lonzo could answer 'em.
Where'd he git it, an' how much did
he have, an' what would he take for
all he had, an' so on. Now, 'Lonzo,
thought he hadn't no larnln' to 'mount
to anything, he took long-headedness
f'm his mother's side, an' he knew
something must be In the wind to
make them fellers so curl's about that
lump o'greaHe. So he Jest give Bill
an' Colfax the wink, an said:
" 'That's all I got of It?picked It up
down there to that cove. Good to soften
up your boots with.'
"'Yes,' says the scientific feller.
good to start a bank with.'
"They warn't no more said, but
when the steamer got up to Rockland
the cap'n said as how they wouldn't
be goln' over to Deer Isle jest them
havln' blzness elsewhere. 'Lonzo, he
thought he knew where. Watchln' his
chance he got the boat alongside an'
the three boys dropped Into her an'
cast off. They took mighty good care
to keep that lump o' grease klvered
up, while 'Lonzo he went up-town to
see his brother-in-law, who was a
doctor. The doc he came down and
looked at the stuff and the minute he
set eyes on to It he threw up his hands
an', says he:
" 'Git that there stuff outen that
boat soon's you kin grab It an' fetch
it up to the office. That's worth
more'n the hull o' Deer Isle. It's ambergrease.'
"Well, to cut a long story short,
those three boys they got $8,000 apiece
outen that there lump of taller. The
money paid off the morgldge held
against the Richardson place by the
savings bank, bought the three-master
Amelia and set the three boys up
housekeepln' with three o' the best
girls on Deer Isle.
"Yes, that was luck?good luck.
But about t'other lump o* taller It was
different. That was the one picked
up over to Heering Gut by Elbridge
Tozler. He ran foul of It while he
was standln' In a dory 'longslde o' his
vessll, a-pain tin' of her. Saw the
stuff two or three hours 'fore he picked
It up an' thought It was Jest surf or
froth. When he poked his brush Into
It an' found It was kind o' sticky he
Jest thought he'd daub a handful of
It Into an open qeam in the schooner's
topsides. It stuck fust rate, and
then, with the stuff right up under his
nose, he began to smell It. Took the
whole lump home to his wife, thinking
she might know what It was, beIn's
she'd gone to Buckport seminary
two years. She didn't know, but the
drug clerk that boarded with them
did. 'What you daubed Into that
seam,' says he, 'Is wuth more'n your
hull darned old schooner. Glt back
a,n' scrape It offn her*8 quick's you
can git there!'
"Well, Tozler he got somewheres
'bout $14,000 out o' that lump o' taller,
an' It Jest spoilt him. He, sold his. vessel
and quit goin' Jest when freights
was high an' goln' higher, an' bought
himself a lot o' lean geared hosses an'
rubber wheeled gigs, with which he
went a-kltln' over the hull state o'
Maine, to Bangor and Lewlston an'
Monroe an' everywhere, takln' In all
the hoss trots advertised in the papers.
He had hosses that could trot
{n 2.26 and hosses that could pace in
2.18, but somehow or other those city
jockeys would get the weather gauge
of him 'most every time, an' his critters
never paid any dividends. What
with fancy riggln' for the hosses an'
a-payln' the railroads for a-cartln' of
'em 'round, an' the cost of a sportln'
life gln'rally, Elbrldge has now got
about to the bottom of him he was
flnlshln' fifth In the 2.50 class, a'V his
wife was thlnkln' of takln' In sewln*.
"Yes, sir, It's Jest as I said. Money's
the makin' o' some folks an' the ruination
o' more. Some keeps on an even
keel an' takes solid comfort, while
others slops over an' spiles everything,
an' more'n that loses their llkln' for
hard work. It's all 'cordin' to how a
man kerrles sail."?Bangor, Me., Letter.
SHORT JAPANESE PLAYS.
Time Means Something Different to
Japanese Than to Americans.
In a Japanese theatre one sits on
the floor. In small apartments designated
by strips of wood about three
Inches In height, and comfortably sips
tea and eats cakes ana canay inrousnout
the performance, or as much of it
as he finds It convenient to attend,
says the Housekeeper. Japanese plays
usually last at least one day, beginning
In the morning, resuming after a recess
for lunch, and again after another
for dinner In the evening. One may
buy his ticket for the whole or a part
of the play, as desired.
The arrangement of balconies was
not unlike our own, and the only
marked difference in arrangement was
that In the Japanese theatre every one
sits on the floor. The orchestra, consisting
of two men playing on the
samisen, had its place on one side of
the stage, on a semi-circular platform.
My surprise was great on suddenly
seeing this same platform whirl
around with the performers and the
other side appear with a fresh relay of
musicians. But the play was the
thing. It was a bloody story of old
samurai times, played entirely by men,
and was intensely interesting as portraying
the ideals of an ancient civilization.
The piercing style of declamation
was incomprehensible to me,
owing to my ignorance of Japanese
dramatic art; but even I, with my lack
of understanding, experienced a genuine
terror at the realism of the acting,
as a samuria prepared to commit
hara karl.
Imagine, then, my surprise at the
moment of the ghastly sword thrust,
?? -? ?| Jl K,, ,-ot l?tr>
wnen ine enure uuuiciitc uuioi u?u
laughter. My Japanese friend afterward
explained to me that the laughter
was the very proof of their deep emotion,
for it would be considered a
shame to weep, and that at the theatre
a Japanese audience always conceals
by laughter its desire for tears.
As several hours had elapsed since
my entrance, and as the scenery had
been changed several times, I thought
this the climax of the play, and prepared
to go; but I was told this was
merely the finale to the first act. Later,
as the hour grew into eight In the
evening, and I had counted my sixth
hour of maintaining my very uncomfortable
position on the floor, and had
been harrowed by a succession of kara
karis, I asked hopefully If the present
were the last act. It was not,
however. This particular short play
was to be finished at about 11 though
there would be an intermission, when
dinner .would be brought to the audience.
1ST'Either women want to move away
from a place because there is too much
scandal there, or because there isn't
any.
BRICKY BARR.
A Western Fiddler who Was a Terror
to Bad Men.
Wilton Andrews, the leader of the
special orchestra accompanying a dramatic
production which recently visited
Washington, told at the Garrlck
club a curious story about a violin pupil
he once had.
"It was at Wichita, Kan., where I
was teaching In the early 80's, that I
got hold of this pupil," he said. "He
was a plasterer. Don't laugh when I
say on top of that that he was one of
I tho mno? nrf.mlolnn olnlln nnnllo I I
lilt Ilium )/tuiiii<3iiig ? iuiiii ^ujmio m
ever had. He was a quiet, good-natured,
sawed-off, named Frank Barr,
but everybody called him Brlcky Barr,
because he had the reddest suit of
cowllcky hair that ever entered Into
competition with a stormy sunset (
He was about four Inches over five
feet high, but as broad across the
back as Hackenschmldt, with a pair
of orang-outang arms that reached
almost to his knees. He could pick up
by the rear axle a two-horse wagon
loaded with brick and raise It five
feet clear of the ground with one hand.
" 'I belonged to the drifters when
I reached Wichita and organized my
class there. One evening, soon after
I'd got my scraping flock assembled, |
I was passing a mechanics' boarding
house on the outskirts of Wichita.
This ctlmson-halred runt was sitting
before one of the open front windows,
sawing on a fiddle. It wasn't a violin.
It was a fiddle, and a vicious fiddle. (
The man making the sounds on it was,
I knew at once, an ear player. Yet
there was occasionally a certain sentiment
true and sound about the fel
low s rude performance. So I stopped
and chatted with him.
"He told me that he didn't know
one note' from another, but that he'd
had the fiddle bug all his life. When
he told me that he was a plasterer I
looked at his hands. They were nelth- ,
er rough nor stiffened. Brlcky told
me that he always wore gloves while ,
plastering, not with the idea of keeping
his hands dainty, but so as not to !
spoil them for his fiddling.
"Well, I took Bricky into my Wichita
class. Inside of six months he had
a saic icau uii an laic a col ui laaciai,
even If I had been compelled to make !
him unlearn all of his ear-playing
abominations.
"Inside of a couple of years I had
pushed Brlcky, the plasterer, through
Wichita, Kaiser and Kreutzer, and he
didn't do half badly with the Dancle
show pieces that I occasionally let him
have to relieve the tedium of exercises.
"Brlcky was a tractable pupil. But
one evening, after he'd been working
at the violin under my direction for
about a year and a half, something occurred
to convince me that Brlcky
wasn't to be fooled with. He was a
bit out of form with his lesson and In
a -moment of petulance I knocked his
bow up from the strings of his ylolln
with my bow. Brlcky's bow went flying
across the room.
"Brlcky had a pair of those steely
blue eyes that a good many western
men of extraordinary nerve have been
provided with. He turned those eyes
upon me for about fifteen straight
seconds and there were gleams of a
tlgersih topaz In them. He didn't say a
word, but walked over to a sofa In a
corner of the room. He deposited his
vioiln upon this sofa with great care.
Then he walked back to where I stood
and turned me around, took me under
the arms from behind, toted me over
to a window of the second story room
as If I'd been a setter pup, held me
suspended out of the window for an
instant and then dropped me to the
ground.
"It was only a ten foot drop and
the ground was soft from a recent
rain. No hafm was done. I didn't
take It to heart, particularly, after I'd
had time to think It over.
"After that Brlcky and I got on perfectly
well together, although I never
knocked his bow out of his hand
again. After two years I gave up my
Wichita class and went to Denver to
take a position as orchestra leader In
a theatre. A few years later I quit
music for a time and went Into busl
ness.
"Occasionally my business called
me to Durango, Col. There wasn't
any worse town In the west at that
time than Durango. It was a jumping
off place for bad men. Nearly a
dozen marshals?none of them a craven
either?had already, at that period,
been put away by the Durango
gun-fighters.
When I reached Durango one afternoon
In the summer of 1886 there
was a lot of excitement there. Bud
Caldwell had stuck up Schlff's bank
that day. He had most of the manhunters
of Colorado and New Mexico
tied In bowknots with fear of him
at that time. Caldwell belonged to
that class of desperadoes of which
Billy the Kid was another example?
that is he killed whether there was any
necessity for it or not. He had stood off
whole camps, backing out of the camps
afoot when they'd hobbled or shot his
horse. He was so unerring on the
shot that the most determined and
reckless bad-man potters fought shy
of him.
"On this day, then, Caldwell had
strolled Into Schlff's bank at noon and
>"t tua nrhnio nutflt hack of the trel
lis under his pair of guns. He instructed
the cashier to stack up all of
the gold and currency on the counter
in front of him.
"The cashier didn't make any superfluous
movements in obeying. The
other employees of the bank, also recognizing
Caldwell, stood or sat frozen
at their desks. Caldwell swept all of
the bank's ready cash, $16,000, into
the leather pouch suspended from his
neck by a strap. Then he backed out
the door. None of the bank people
had made a move except the cashier,
and the cashier only moved to do what
Caldwell told him to do. Caldwell got
on his horse in front of the bank and
made for the canons at a leisurely
amble.
"As I say, when I got to Durango,
three hours after the thing happened,
Durango was a heap perturbed
over the thing; but nobody seemed
to want the $5,000 reward which the
bank immediately offered for Caldwell,
dead or alive.
"The folks stood around and talked
about it in the groggerles and gambling
Joints and honkatonks, but none
of those quick-trigger people of Durango
had lost any $5,000 worth of
Bud Caldwell that they were anxious
to recover. The idea of camping on
Bud's trail wasn't even suggested by
any of them.
"About seven o'clock that evening I
I was having an after-supper smoke
In the 12x20 lobby of the Hell-NorPete
hotel, where I was registered,
when the buckboard came up from
the railroad station with a new guest.
He'd swung along from Deadwood. He
was Bricky Barr, my former violin
pupil of Wichita.
"I recognized him at once, although
he had picked up some bad and disfiguring
knife scars on the left side
of his face. He remembered me too,1
and he was kind enough to say, In his
foolish loyalty to his first Instructor,
that, although he'd heard WllhelmJ
and Remenyi since seeing me last, he
considered that I had both of those
renowned violinists eaten up In a limekiln
when it came to sure-enough flddlln.'
"Bricky had been prowling around
the new mining camps of Colorado
for some years he told me, and we
were having a pleasant time, talkaJAJT>?Ii
1I1? IlUUIt? ttliu HUUIlIlg, WIICI1 DI IfRy a
attention was attracted by the uproar
of caloric talk In the bar over Bud
Caldwell's visit that day. Brlcky pricked
up his ears at that and Instantly
lost Interest In the fiddle conversation.
I told htm briefly about the Caldwell
business.
"'Anybody going after him?' Inquired
Brlcky. getting up and addressing
the thirty or forty men lounging
around. Two or three of them muttered
that they hadn't lost any Bud
Caldwells.
" "Well, you're a plgeon-llvered lot
o' Junipers,' said Brlcky, whereupon
I Instantly ducked behind a partition
in the rear of the office, not hankering
for any lead ballast.
" 'Poor plasterer,' I breathed to myself
as I made the shelter of the partition,
"you've fiddled your last doubleBtep
In G major or in any other key!''
"But to my Intense astonishment,
there was no fusilade. Brlcky had got
by with his savage crack. I peered
from behind the partition. They wer*
all standing fixed in their position,
looking .curiously at Brlcky. He was
a natural captain of men. I observed
that the topaz glitter I had caught
once before in his eyes was there
again. The others in that lobby and
bar seemed to be under the Influence
of that eye of Bricky's too. Anyhow,
not a man of them went for his' guns,
despite the hot gibe from the lips of
this stranger In the camp."
" 'Is there anything in it for fetching
the coyote in?' Brlcky inquired of the
crowd In general, after the long pause.
" 'Five thousand,' two or three of
them chorused.
" 'Well, that's a slick enough piece
of change to be worth tearing off,'
said Brlcky, not in any boastful tone,
but with the air of a man expressing
approval of a business transaction that
looked pretty good. 'Any ombrey
here stake me a couple of guns?'
"Well. I could see them rubbering
srttn^ harder at the red-haired chmj*
then. He had given 'them all that
raking about being plgeon-llvered, eh,
without having any guns on him at
the time he spoke? It was plain that
they couldn't make anything out of
Brlcky. But a big ruffian of a camp
terror brought his mallet-like list
Hrtw.n An thft hnr
" 'He ain't no gopher If he la
a red head,' the ruffian bellowed.
"And then he strolled over to Bricky
and handed him a pair of ,45's, butts
foremost. Then he unshipped his
cartridge belt and Bricky buckled It
around his waist.
" 'Any hawss loafing about camp
that can get out of his own way?" Inquired
Bricky then.*
"The horse was in front of the HellNor-Pete
hotel In less than five mln- I
utes. It was then eight o'clock at 1
night and pretty black. They pointed I
out the west trail to Bricky as the one 1
Caldwell had taken. ]
"After the plasterer had vaulted Into
the saddle I shook hands with him, I
not without a bit of pride as the only
man In camp who knew him well I
enough to do that.
" 'Bricky,' I said, 'you've got a swell
chance to figure In one of those bone- i
bleaching things down yonder In the i
canons. But, still, you've had a pret- i
ty good time with yourself, barring the 1
working of your trade, and you seem i
ready enough to give the keno yell 1
and cash In. We've all got to die <
some time. You'll probably be qualified
as a stringed instrument perfor- ]
mer long before I cut your trail on the j
other side of the big divide, and when ,
you make your cash in don't you forget
what I used to have to keep ding- 1
lng into you?keep right on practls- i
lng, whether It's a harp or a fiddle.' |
" 'That ain't such a bad bunch o' .
breeze professor,' Bricky replied to me
just before giving his horse the spurs,
hut anv time anv cheap stick-up man 1
pipes me out I want you to take a ,
peek at my remains when the inquest's
bein' pulled off and see if I look like
a prairie dog under my shirt.'
"And with that Bricky clattered Into
the blackness of the canon trail. He
got back Just thirty-six hours later,
almost to the minute, pulling up his
lathery cayuse in front at the HellNor-Pete
hotel from which he had
started.
"Bud Caldwell was slung across the
front of Bricky's saddle. Bud couldn't
have been much deader if he had
fallen from a cage into a 900-foot
shaft. Both of his forearms were
broken by bullets in exactly the same
spot. The other ball had cut Bud's
jugular in two.
"Bricky didn't even tell me, his old
friend and fiddle Instructor, how he
had got by with it. The bag, with all
of Bud's loot in it intact, was swung
around Bricky's neck.
"Bricky dismounted, toted the dead
man Into the barroom, laid his burden
down gently enough on a table, and
then strolled over to the bank with
the bag of cash. A crowd of good citizens
of Durango?mine owners and
superintendents and such?were already
standing around in the bank
when Bricky got there, waiting for
his appearance.
"The president of the bank counted
Bricky out his $5,000 reward in bills,
3 nlnnn/1 a cnM atfl r with
<111U II1CI1 110 pniiiVM M o , ...
'Marshal Durango,' engraved on it, on
the left side of Brlcky's blue flannel
shirt. That badge hadn't been used
by anybody for six months, the last
man to wear It having piped out with
such shocking suddenness that no successor
to him could be found.
"It took Bricky Barr, the plastererfiddler,
just eight months to clean Durango
up and make it the most decent
and safest camp, even for a tenderfoot,
from the Columbia to the
Rio Grande.
"There is, I suppose, a certain
amount of elemental savagery surviving
in all of us. That, at any rate, is
about the only excuse I have for saying
that, of all my violin pupils, some
of whom became quite distinguished,
I never had such a glow of pride over
the achievements of any of them as
I did over my plasterer on the day he
brought the most heartless devil of
the southwest into Durango on the
pommel of his saddle."?Washington
Star.
SLEEPING 0IVER8.
Habit Growing Worsa Evary Year, and
Apparantly Cannot Ba Curad.
Sleeping: sickness has developed
imong the divers employed In the
Mediterranean and the Levant to such
in extent that It haa seriously affected
:he revenues of the wrecking and salvage
companies?that is, the divers
lay it is "sleeping sickness," but their
imployers have another name for it.
The companies do all their business
hy contracts with the owners of the
wrecked steamships, and the divers
ire paid according to the time they
ire under the water at work. Wages
ire regulated by the number of hours
the men can stay down. A diver, for
example, who received $5 for the first
hour, would get $10 for the second
hour and $20 for the third.
Captain Samuel Ridge, who passed
through Suez recently on his way to
Aden to scuttle a steamship which had ,
seen on Are for two weeks, spoke very
'reely on the subject His salty, weathar-beaten
countenance resembled
Mercator's Protection, with its lines
>f latitude and longitude, when he rested
the fondness of divers for sleep
it the bottom of the sea.
"It 1b quite true." said Captain
Ridge, "that divers spend the greater
part of the time under the water in
comfortably snoozing instead of doing
their work./ I have been down myaelf
ind found fourteen men asleep in the
cabins on board a wrecked steamship.
They prefer, to get inside the wreck
t>ecause the ground sharks cannot
knock them about with their tales and
try their jaws on their copper helmets.
In the Levant there is danger
from the big devil flsh which swarm
iround the coasts, and divers have
t>een frequently carried oft some little
distance before these huge mongers
discovered their mistake and
Iropped them.
"Diving appliances are so perfect
cowadays that it is a pleasant experience
to go down an easy depth
uid walk about with an electric lamp
ilong the sandy bed of the sea. Good
livers can easily remain under water
for three hours, If the depth is less
:han ten fathoms. -The greatest depth
[ have seen men go down is 23 fathcms,
and they only remained for 20
minutes, as the pressure was so
treat" : f
Asked why it was that divers had
Jeveloped the submarine sleeping
labit, Captain Ridge said:
"There is a soft undulating motion
jnder the water which is most soothng
and almost irresistible. The most
.'ractlous baby would be instantly lullid
if it was placed carefully In the
bed of the ocean. I have felt the Inluence
myself, and have had to retrain
from going down to any more
wrecks, in case I should get the sleepng
habit myself. I can only describe
:he sensation as one of 'Peace, beautiful
peace.' There are no ears, no
crowds, no subways and no street
backers or flies to bother you.
"Strange looking flsh peer into the
rfass of your headdress and dart away
""hen you flash your electric lamp on
:hem. These new powerful lamps enible
divers to see as well as if they
were above water. Many of the weal:hler
divers have their habit of sleeping
under water so badly that they
:annot sleep on land. I know two
men who have recently retired and
bought a big diving outfit between
them, so that each man can go down
Eind have three hours below while his
mate sits In the boat above and sees
that he gets his supply of air.
T <innf bap what remedy can be
adopted to cure divers of the habit,
and they seem to be getting worse
each year in the east, where the water
is so warm and pleasant. It is very
hard to tell whether a diver is working
or not, and it is worse to stay
down under water and watch him.?
Public Ledger.
PRACTICED BY 8MALL 3HARPER8
Ingenious Ways of Getting Money
Without Working For It.
It is really astonishing what a large
number of people there are who will
lake infinite pains to avoid work. And
the queer part of it, says the London
Globe, .Is that they really give themselves
much trouble in their attempts
to obtain a living without laboring at
Einy fixed task.
Not long ago a novel trick was
? Ku a man votnr about the
plttL'UCCVI ? . .w
streets of London but It seems Impossible
to think that he made much out
of It, unless there is an abnormal
number of' exceedingly foolish people
In .existence. Passing' a man casually
he would glance at his back and say,
"Beg yer pardon, sir, but there's a
lot of white stuff on .your shoulders."
Those who were particular about their
personal appearance would thank the
man and ask him to wipe it off, accompanying
the request with a tip.
Of course, it is unnecessary to say
that there never was anything white
on the back of the man addressed, and
that it was solely for the purpose of
getting the tip that the kind workingman
took an interest in the stranger's
lollet.
A much more lucrative trick was
reported by a London daily some time
igo. According to this statement a
ivell-dressed gentleman sauntered
ibout the streets of Sydney, N. S. W.,
stopping a passer-by every now and
then in order to ask him for a "fill" of
tobacco, as he had left his pouch at
lome. Not many smokers would refuse
such a request when made by a
respectable stranger, and would bid
Mm fill his pipe and be welcome. As
soon as the generous stranger was
>ut of sight the borrower would transfer
the tobacco from the pipe to a
capacious pouch he carried. When he
tiad collected a pound or two he would
3ell it to a tobacconist.
Another dodge worked on likely
looking gentlemen is that well worn
device which might be termed the
trick pipe fake. As the victim hurries
ilong a crowded street he notices a
man who is smoking a big meerschaum
nine. That is to say, he would notice
him if he were looking, but as he is in
a. hurry the chances are that he does
not, and he Js therefore surprised when
he collides with the man, who lets the
pipe fall to the ground, which breaks
In several pieces. Of course, the owner
of the "valuable" pipe, raises a great
lamentation over his loss, and calls on
Heaven to witness the clumsiness of
the victim. The former says It is all
the fault of the latter, and loudly demands
compensation while tenderly
picking up the pieces. He accepts the
proffered monetary solatium with the
the remark that the pipe was worth
Tar more, and then goes up a side
street to fix the "meerschaum" ready
for some, one else. This trick used to
bring quite .a decent amount, but it has
become so well known that it Is sellom
tried nowadays.