Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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4 « 4 THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., JULY 28, 1898. A SNOWDROP. O wonderful. Immaculate, White herald of the sprlnu, No winter can bo desolate That bears so sweet n (hint! Hoft, snowy petals strip'd with (jreen, Deep hidden heart of Hold, The world that hath such beauty soea Cnn never more Ik; old. No shades of ruddy lipht suffuse Thy petals cool and pure. Th>’ roseless, chill auroral dews Alone thy lips allure. Thou art not freak’d with purple etolra. Nor fire of scarlet bright, But silver'd by the silvery raiiw And touched with vernal light. And 1, who once tho roses lov'd, Allegiance bring to thee, Well knowing thou wilt ne’er be prov’d So wanton or so free; But, cloister'd from the wild wind's breath Nor Haunting in the sun, Wilt lend a beauty e’en to death When thy pure life is done. —New York Times. HER GUARDSMAN. In a small hnuso in Clarges street a girl of 18 stood in her presentation dress, while her long three yards and a half of white satin train trailed behind her. A maid knelt on the ground, pick ing out hero and there a leaf from the sprays of lilies of the valley. Marjorie looked in tho mirror and patted a rebellion 1 ’ mrl. “Ifeel excited. I can’t help it. Oh, mother, I wish it were like a story, the country mouse being taken to court and a real live duke or earl falls in lovo with little mouse. I shall be in the midst of this great world soon. I wish something really romantic could happen.” ‘‘You’ll have to take the taskmaster, Love, into your bargain with Fate,dear, ” said Mrs. Beauchamp. And Marjorie hid her face in her lovely bouquet of lilies of the valley, white orchids ami white violets, and her heart gave a quick throb. There was a Vsomebody” then. Per haps no belted carl nor strawberry leaved duke, but a handsome, sunburned face lookt d into hers, the mellow voice hud whispered. **••*•* It was later on the same day, the car riages in endless strings down the mall, an eager crowd pressing close to all tho •windows, making their remarks freely. ‘‘This waiting is very tiring,” said Marjorie, ‘‘and I am so hungry.” ‘‘The gates are opened. We shall soon he in, my dear,” sitid Lady Hamilton, taking a sip of sherry from a convenient flask. They had come now to the line of sentries, the guardsmen standing like statues. The sunshine coming out in a great sheaf of splendor almost dazzled Marjo rie, as looking through the glass windows she was conscious of one of the guards men on duty watching her intently. His bearskin almost hid his eyes and brow. Was she dreaming or was thero dis tinct recognition in that soldier’s glance? The sweeping brown mustache concealed his mouth. She looked at him again, the carriage moved forward, he smiled. She bent forward, and her face dimpled into a smiling response; impulsively she waved her hand. ‘‘To whom, may I ask, were you bowing?” said Lady Hamilton severely. ‘‘I recognized some one, auntie, in tho crowd,” faltered Marjorie. And her aunt, noting the sudden rush of color and shining eyes, grew sus picious. ‘‘A man was tho only cause for that kind of emotion,” she thought sagely. Marjorie almost forgot that fleeting look while making her bow to her maj esty. But the guardsman did not intend she should forget. A brilliant scheme had entered his mind. • ••••• • Truly, only a guardsman scribbling away for dear life, in ail tho barrenness of barrack surroundings, but ho knew ho had finished forever with the long, tedious marches. The pipeclaying, the ‘‘brass rags” could bo chucked away, the parade ground need hear no longer tho tread of Corporal Ferguson’s feet, no more lonely watches in the tower, when the thought of Anne Boleyu’s ghost to keep him company was not cheering. Goodbytotho arduous life of ‘‘rough ing, ” goodly to the jarring influences which had surrounded him for two years—years of stern discipline and hard training. Ho had come out of it well. And what was ho writing, scheming lover, full of ardent fervor? His last test! A sweet little letter, scented deli cately, lay next to his heart. This is what she said: ‘‘Do not lead me to do wrong or to deceive. You must let mo tell my moth er, and I am ready to face the future with you. I will meet you once again, but I can no longer keep it secret. ” ‘‘Bad young man!” he chuckled, and Marjorie Beauchamp that same day re ceived this epistle: ‘‘Dear, sweet Marjorie, companion of my thoughts and highest aspirations, when I saw you a fortnight ago, I was determined fate should never sever us again. Darling, how good you have been to mo, and I shall not try that lov ing heart another day. You are ever in my mind, my best thoughts are of you, and my one great longing is to win you for my very own ” She looked very sweet in her picture hat covered with violets as she walked into her mother’s room, dressed for a walk. “Mother,” she said, going over to her and turning very pale; “mother. I can not keep my seciet from you any lon ger. ” “A secret, dear child? Why, no, of course not,” said Mrs. Beauchamp ten derly, and put out her hand. “Mother, do you remember two years ago I went on a visit to our old cousin James. When I was there, I met a love ly girl, Constance Ferguson. Do you re member my telling you how I helped nurse her? And—and a brother of hers, Charlie Ferguson, had just arrived from Australia. ” “Well, my child, what of it?” “I was only 10, mother, and he said I was so young, mm he had a hard life in front o^hiin. He had quarreled with his unclApH was practically cast off. Mother, can’t you guess? I have seen him again—I love him !” The bright head was bowed and hot tears splashing down. “Read this, mother. He wishes mo to meet him today in the park, and he says ho has some great news to tell me.* Ho is better off. ” “But what is he now, Marjorie?” “Ho is in the guards, mother.” “In the guards!” said the poor lad}*, bewildered. “Then ho must be very well off indeed. ” “No, mother, no. He enlisted. Hois only a corporal.” “Only a corporal!” eried Mr a. Beau champ, clasping her hands, “lu a dread ful red coat! You have been, seen out with him! Good heavens, Marjorie!” “Oh, mother, don’t be so horrified! I call him my pillar box, and be says I was tho bravest girl he knew to meet him, and after I did ho said he would come and see you and explain. And I am to marry him. And, after all”— winding up her incoherent speech dra matically—“it isn't the coat that makes the man! And, mother, may I go and meet him and bring him back?” “Oh, Marjorie!” cried her poor moth er, "what would your aunt say? I sup pose I must cons lit to seeing him. He certainly writes u charming letter.” ******* “In tho face of everybody, not ashamed?” said Ferguson a little quiz zically, as he and his sweetheart got up from their chairs in Rotten row. £he looked up half shyly at the tall, hand some guardsman. “And now that you know everything, Marjorie, will you forgive my putting you to such a test?” “I love you,” she whispered, blush ing hotlv. “But, eh, how glad mother will be!” They were walking along gayly, she the perfection of dainty prettincss, trip ping along at his side, many curious andc.m inquisitive glances following the pair. “Look, Charlie,” cried Marjorie, her face dimpling into mischievous laugh ter; “there’s auntie just passed us, driv ing. Leek; she’s turning back to look at us. Oh, her face! Isn’t it a picture?” Lady Hamilton alighted from her carriage simply trembling with indig nation. She swept into h» r sister’s room, her silk dress knocking down a ' table, a vase and some books, the plumes ! in her bonnet nodding formidably. ( “Helena,” she eried, “something too ' terrible has occurred. Your daughter— i my niece—is out walking with a com- j mon soldier.” “My dear Eliza, I can explain,” fal- : tend Mrs. Beauchamp. “Don't—don’t j be angry. The young man is on his way | here now”— “On his way now!” almost shrieked I Lady Hamilton. “You are going to let ; a man in a red coat mid white belt i n- j ter this house! Helena, you should en- | ter a lunatic asylum. This—this is ap palling. ” They heard a joyous little laugh. And Lady Hamilton rose to face them. Mrs. Beauchamp felt faint from emo tion What could ho wrong when Mar jorie wore such a lovely look? And a gleam of mirth in her eyes too. And the mother saw one of the finest looking fellows she had sei n in hi r life fill up the doorway with his tall figure. “Mother—auntie—let mu introduce you to m}’ lover, the guardsman, and soon to bo my husband—tho Earl of Desurt,” “Please forgive me, Mrs. Beau champ,” he said in a winning way. “I claimed my discharge today, only to take orders, though, in another service. ” And here Marjorie’s hand was clasped in his. ******* Lady Hamilton a year later presented the sou and heir with a sib i r mug and a box of tiu soldiers.—Forget-Me-Not. AtffiRlCAN PEARLS. WHERE THE BIVALVES WHICH YIELD THEM ARE FOUND. TAKEN LITERALLY. General Gordon’it Seal. The seal which General Gordon used on all the documents he signed while shut up in Khartum had a history, which is narrated in the “Life of Chuuucy Maples,” missionary bishop of Likoma, east central Africa. While at Cairo the bishop stopped at the house of a friend named Floyer, of whom he writes: Floyer had seen a great deal of Gen eral Gordon and-showed mo one very interesting letter—the last he received from him. The occasion of it was inter esting. Floyer had volunteered to pre pare Gordon a seal with his name in Arabic characters upon it. For this pur pose he chose an old coin, which he partially melted and refashioned. When the seal was completed, it was found that two words that had been on the coin wrre still legible. Tho words were in Arabic and signified “The Mes senger of God.” Gordon noticed them and was much pleased, and in the letter How the Precious Stones Are Extracted From tho Shells—Inllncnces Ihat Tend to Wastt-i In Gathering the Gem*—Colors and Shapes. I I George F. Kuuz, the mineralogist and j gem expert, has given much attention to American pearls, and he told a re porter many facts of interest concerning | tho fresh water varieties. The rivers 1 and lakes of the United States are, ho says, inhabited by several hundred ! species of bivalves called by the general term of naiados, all of which bear pearls, often of great size and beauty. Of these naiades the most common typo is tho unio, or ordinary river mussel. Tho whole Mississippi basin teems with these mollusks and the forms there are for tho most part distinct from those of the Atlantic watershed and of tho eld world. All of the unios have an irides cent inner coating to their shells, hut there is a wide variation in color, rang ing through tints of pink, purple and brown. The colors of tho jjearls depend upon the tint of tho shell lining. A pearl is made up of carbonate of lime, intermixed with layers of animal matter. It is supposed that each one has for a nucleus some particle of foreign matter which has become inserted in tho shell, and which irritates the mol- lusk until it succeeds in forming over it a coating, which is constantly being thickened. Thus tho pearl grows, and if removed before it is “ripe, ” as tho pearl seekers say, much may bo sacri ficed iu point of size and consequently of value. It is advisable, says Mr. Kunz, to search every creek and river where limestone is the characteristic rock of tho country, since tho mussels usually secrete pearls under this geolog ical condition. Since it is possible to open thousands of mussels without find ing a single stone of value, the pearl fishers learn to know from their outside appearance what specimens are likely to prove worth the trouble. The tiuest pearls are contained in old, distorted and diseased shells. Odd protuberances often mark tho location of the gem inside, which, by drawing all tho animal’s forces for its sustenance, lias weakened the shell at that part and caused it to become deformed. Besides being of many colors, tho i fresh water pearls show a wide variety j of shapes. Many are perfectly globular, while others are formed like cartridges, I mallets, buttons and even take tho raoro | fanciful aspects of feathers or fishlike creatures. Pearls have been found which j in tint, size and general appearance i were precisely like a drop of molten copper. Tho white pearls are still most prized for general nso, although those of other tints are often really handsomer and have beoome quite popular iu this country. Somo of tho earliest American pearls came from near Waynesville, O., §8,000 wo.^ being collected iu that neighbor hood during tho pearl excitement of 1878. Large and valuable pearls from mussels have been obtained in New Jer sey, but tho streams there have not been productive in recent years. It was in 1857 that tho “queen pearl” was found at Notch Brook, near Paterson. It is round, has a beautiful luster, weighs 98 grains and measures about five- eighths of an inch in diameter. It was sold to tho Empress Engeuie of Franco for $2,500. There was great excitement after this discovery, and thousands of mussels were destroyed in further re searches. A large round pearl weighing 400 grains, which, Mr. Kunz says, would doubtless have been tbo finest of modern times, was ruiued by boiling open the shell in order to extract it. Early iu the summer of 1889 some magnificent pearls were found iu rivers and creeks iu vai»ous counties of Wis consin. Moro than §10,000 worth were sent to Now York iu three mouths. In color they were principally copper rod, purplish red and dark pink. The “pearl fever” in Wisconsin raged violently iu 1890 and 1891. Hundreds of men, wom en and children (locked to tho creeks, tho men and boys assuming the task of getting the mussels out of tbo water, while the women ami girls opened them. From 1 to 60 pearls were ofton found iu n single shell. After a time the Wis consin streams seemed to bo worked out, and the fishing grounds chuuged. At present the chief pearl producing States aro Kentucky, Tennessee, Texas and Arkansas. Tbo pearls are usually found by farm ers, who hunt for them in tbeir spare time, or by unemployed country vil lagers, who are looking out for some method of making money quickly with out too much hard labor. The destruc tive mode of pearl fishing which pre vails in this country is responsible for in question commented mi them, saying the fact ^ rich fltreanjH ^ beconje he prayed ho might always remember ! to lie us the messenger of God to the Sudan people. A Four'* Inttilllgence. A correspondent writes from Abbots- bury to Nature Notes: “The other day when we were having lunch we heard a strange scratching sound, and then :is if some one were trying to turn the Liu idle of the door. Our housemaid went and opened the door to see what it was, and thero stood tho baker's pony and cart. His master had left him in tho road while ho went to the next house, and tho pony hud turned round and kimself tried to open the door. Of couise we were much amused to hear wbul it was, ami the door was shut again. The next minute came one loud, decided knock, evidently from the door knocker. ‘That can’t be the pony, ’ we all cried at the same time, rushing to the door, but it was. He was standing with bis front feet uii the pavement, quietly waiting, and very pleased at his success. Gf course we gave him some bread, biscuits and sugar us a reward for his clever ness. He must have taken the knocker in his teeth. “ exhausted. Mussels are destroyed by the bushel, and in the baste of the peerl seekers sufficient time is not taken to sort them over first, pick ont those which promise rewards and throw tho others back into the water. In Saxony and Ba varia the pearl fishers have instruments by means of which they can open a mollnsk without injuring Ik If no pearl is inside, the shell non be closed and the animal restored to its element again. The factory refuse and sewage which pollute so many streams in the more thickly settled parts of the oonntry are also responsible for the extermination of the mollusks therein, and other de- struofive agencies are to be found in freshets and the depredation* of boga' and muskrats in starch of food. In fishing for pearls the shell of tbe bivalve should be opened as soon as it le taken from tbe water. This la bectnae tbe atone is Injured by being left in the ah*U until the animal decays. Borne- tlmea a pearl which appears dull and; worthies* is merely coated with an out er opaque layer, which being removed by it eon* of a weak and acid solution leaves the lustrous gem la it* beauty^J New York Tribune. I'd gone that night to Ipnrn Bus’s mind— J ,e B«ekly wnz the rrr.son. A rival’s good at tian-s, 1 find. To make us force a Reason. I’d tklliid for a yi -:r till Joe Bet jealousy a-lmrnin, An then I wrob I'd call to know Jest how she vii-.vi ! my yearnin, An in the letter that 1 ent. Although u sorry pjfcoller, I ]>uid her many it orluplv.ccnt, Be:-h on the on.?s th it foiler, “I’ve heard in songs your voice arise An seen ihe flowers snrin -in, An often, lookin in your ryes, I've heard tiie mockbirds feingin!” A But when I called she seemed more shy Fer Rome cause or anuther An tried, I thought, ns time flew by, My fondest hopes to smother. “Dear Sue, be mtael" I said at last An edged a little nigher, But not ono word—her eyes downcast Or lookin in the fire, An then she raised her eyes ag’in An said, my bosom thrillin: “Yon say you’ve heard, by lookin in My eyes, the mockbirds trillin. Why should I speak, then ? Seems to me That you're a eurious man, sir, For if you look once more, you see, Why can’t you hear my answer I” —Will T. Hale in Chicago Times-Herald. THE RUBRIC HOUSE. X “A fine public Infuse,” said Blanco Watson, tho humorist. “Yes,” I replied, looking at the building we were approaching, “but a strango position—away from the high road, and surrounded by villas.” “A very strange fashion. We will rest in the public house? and I will tell you how it came to bo built iu such a very strange position.” I smiled and followed him into the saloon bar. We sat at ono of tho tables and were silent for a time, he thinking and I watching him. “Tho story begins,” he said present ly, “with a burglary committed by a certain Bill Jones one night long ago. “Bill was a young member of his profession. Hitherto he had not at tempted anything very big, but contin ued success iu small tilings had made him bold. On this night be broke into the country house of a well known ac tress, in tho hope of carrying off her jewels. “He succeeded iu getting the jewels and was leaving with them when lie found that tho slight noise he had mado had attracted attention. A servant girl met him at a turn of tho stairway and began to shriek. Ho rushed by her and to the window through which ho had entered. As ho passed through it again he heard doors being opened and knew that tho house was fully aroused.” “I understand,” I said. “Bill escap ed. The getross employed a detective. Tho detective built this public houso in an out of tbo way place, hoping that Bill, as an out of the way young man, would call in ono day for a drink. Curi ously enough, Bill did.” Blanco Watson frowned. “This is an intellectual story,” ho said. “It does not depend on coinci dences. “I will continue. Bill avoided the first pursuit by a long run across coun try, and then walked toward his home, not daring to use tho railway. He kept to tho byroads as much as possible, and at the close of the next day had reached tho neighborhood of London. “A spade lying inside a field gate suggested to him tho advisability of hiding the jewels until he had arranged for their sale. After making sure that he was not observed be entered the field and picked up tho spado. A tree of pe culiar growth stood just beyond him. In the manner of fiction, ho counted 20 steps duo north from the treo and then dug a deep hole, placed tho jewels in it and filled it up again. “Ho arrived homo safely that night, but was arrested in tho morning. The servant girl had given an accurate de scription of him to the police, and they had recognized it. ‘ ‘ In duo course ho was tried. Tho evi dence against him was very strong. The servant girl swore that ho was the man she met an the stairs. Same of the vil lagers swore that they had seen him near tho house previous to tho bur glary. He was found guilty and sen tenced to seven years’ penal servitude. “Bill behaved very well in prison and at tho end of five years was released on a ticket of leave. Ho decided to wait until tho ticket had expired and then to get tho jewels and leave tho country. But a day or two after his releuso ho walked out to look at tho field. “Thero was no field. During the five years he had been in prison tho estate of which the field was part had been built upon. He wandered about the houses iu despair. But as' ho turned a corner he saw something which suggest ed hope. Behind some railings was a tree of curious growth. “It was tho treo 20 steps duo north of which lie had buried tho jewels. Hu recognized it immediately and ran to ward it. Again ho vau in despair. A yard or two north of tho treo was a chapel, and tho jewels were under tho chapel. He leaned against the railings, covering his face with his hands. “It happened presently that the head deacon of tho chapel, a kindly old man, came down tbo road. He saw Bill stand ing like one in trouble and stopped and asked what was tho mutter and whether ho could help. “For a few moments Bill did not know what to reply, but then he spoke well. Ho said that onoo ho had been a burglar, but that he hud learned in prison that burglary is wrong; that now kc was trying to live an honest life, but that as ho had uo friends it was not easy. “The old man was touched. Ho had fonud Bill leaning against tbo chapel railings, and Hill had said that lie hud no friends. Was it not his dpty as head deacon of tbo chapel to be a friend to Bill? Clearly it was. “He took Bill homo with him. Ho was a bachelor, and thero was no one to restrain his benevolence. They hud sup per and talked together. The deacon found Bill intelligent and fairly well educated and offorud him employment Ho was a buildn in tho neighborhood, ho explained, and had a vacancy iu the works. Hill gratefully accepted the offer and began his uew career on the follow ing Monday. "Mouths pa^st-d. Bill had changed wonderfully. Ho had forgotten his old habits and learned new ones. The deacon i was delighted. Not only was Bill tho best of his workmen, but he was the most regular attendant at the chapel. “Bill longed for the jewels, and he worked hard because he knew that money would help him to get them. He attended the chapel because while there he was near tho jewels, the seat he had taken being just 20 steps due north from the tree. At first he had meditated dig ging down through the fioor one night, but the chances of detection were great and he had given up the idea. “Years,passed. The deacon had be come an invalid, and Bill practically managed his business. He was an im portant man at the chapel, too, and was often intrusted with a collection box. Ono day the deacon died. Soon after ward it was known that having no near relatives ho had left his property to his friend William Jones.” “I see,” I exclaimed. “Bill”— Blanco Watson shook his head. “Bill was Bill no longer,” he said. “He had become a man of wealth. At the next election of deacons he was ono of the successful candidates. In future we must refer to him as Mr. Jones and not as Bill. “Mr. Jones was a most energetic deacon. He introduced new members, and ho persuaded old ones to attend more regularly. Ho started a young men’s literary society and a series of Saturday entertainments. He made the chapel the most popular in the district, and then, at a New Year’s business meeting, he struck boldly for the jewels. “Tho chapel was too small, ho said in tho course of an eloquent speech. They must erect another on a larger site. Thero was but one such site in tho neighborhood. They must secure it be fore others did. He himself would un dertake the building operations, charg ing only what they cost him. Ho would also purchase tho old chapel. The not expenditure need not bo very groat. “Tho proposal was well received, and a committee, with Mr. Jones as chair man, was appointed to consider tho de tails. Their report was very favorable, and at another business meeting it was decided to carry out tho proposal. “The necessary funds were subscribed or guaranteed. Contracts were mado with Mr. Jones. In tho spring of that year tho building operations were com menced, and by tho autumn they were finished. The congregation removed to the new chapel. Mr. Jones purchased the old one at a high price and entered into possession. “And then,” I said, “I suppose ho got the jewels?” Blanco Watson laughed. “No, ” be said, “hodid not. Ho broke up the floor himself, counted the steps due north from tho tree again and dug. He did not find the jewels. Ho counted tho steps again and dug deeper. He did not find them. Then ho tried other places; but, although he kept on until lie had tried everywhere beneath the floor, he never found the jewels. ” “Why, what had become of them?” “I cannot say. It is possible that when tho foundation was being laid a workman had discovered and appropri ated them. Again it is possible that there were two trees of similarly curious growth, and that the ono outside the chapel was not the one Mr. Jones first saw. Again”— “And what has the story to do with the public house? But I can guess.” "Of course you can. Mr. Jones was very angry with the chapel members. Ho considered that by false pretenses they had led him into buying the old chapel dearly and building tho new one cheaply. He resigned his deaconsbip and then sought a way to be revenged on them. He found one. On tho site of the old chapel he built a public house— this public house in which we have sat so long.”—Edgar Turner in Sketch. A CAB DRIVER’S RUSE ONE TIME WHEN THE SIDE DOOR BEAT WAS OUTWITTED. Caution* Pral*e. Mr. Orchardsou, tho famous English artist, has lately given the public an insight into his experiences with golf— that mysterious game, so fascinating to tho initiated, of which tho charm is so incomprehensible to tho outsider. It is but recently that Mr. Orchard- son, who is past middle lifo although in the prime of healthful vigor, lias transferred his affections from hunting and tennis, his former favorite sports, to the national game of his country— for ho is a Scotchman. He played his first game of golf at St. Andrews. “I remember,” ho says, “I had the queerest, most solemn looking caddie imaginable. I mado a fearful mess of it at first, and tho little chap looked on without a word. At last, when I had finished the round, ho looked up at me in tho funniest way and simply said, ‘It’s nae use playin golf unless yo lairu it as a laddie. ’ “But I must tell you that the next day I hud this same caddie, and I got on much better. I was almost annoyed with him for not praising me, for ho was as silent as on tho day bufore. But when wo finished, lie turned to me and said, as if resuming our last conversa tion, ‘Awcel, A’ dinua ken.' ” Being a Scot himself, the artist was therefore satisfied with what he doubt less interpreted as a handsome apology and hearty encouragement. Glad*tone u • Elngatat. A remarkable illustration of the scope of Mr. Gladstone’s power as a linguist was given many years ago when ho ad dressed an assembly on tho island of Oorfu iu modern Greek, a little later spoke to an assembly in Florence in Italian, a few days later conversed with ease in German with Bismarck, soon afterward responded in fluent French to a toast at a banquet iu Paris, and then crossed the channel to deliver a five hours’ speech in parliament on th« budget. WImt tho Men Who Drive the Cabs Think cf the Public That Employs Thera. Women Patron* Are Not Held In Vurjr Hl^h l^tccm—Loaded Customer*. “Cab, f-ir? Cab?” asked tho driver of B hansom, waving his whip at tho re porter. Ho soeined disappointed and a little surprised when told that it was an interview and not a drive that was wanted, bet consented readily enough when he found out that it was to be ac companied by liquid refreshments. “What class of people do we carry? That’s a big question. We takes any ono and. every one—providing they has tho price, of course. “Experiences? Sure—dead loads* of them. You’d think I was stringing you if I was to tell you some. One morning I drove Mrs. Nack to Long Island, and in the afternoon I took Bishop Potter to a church. Beat? Well, there’s sharks in all trades. There's the side door racket—get out at some hotel for a drink and then slip out at tho side door. A fellow tried that on me tbe other night—one of those slick up town dudes, with a silk hat and swallow tail. You’d know him if I was to tell you his name —lots of money, but tries to beat his way ou general principles. He came out of an up town club, hailed me and jumped into tho cab. ‘Fifth Avenue hotel. Sharp!’says ho. When we got to the hotel, ho says, ‘Wait a minute,’ and skips in. Did I wait? Not on your life. I drove round to the side entrance on Twenty-third street and was just drawing up to the curb when ho rushes out and without looking at me says: ‘Koster & Bial'e. Sharp!’jumps into tho cab and slams the door. See his lit tle game? Gets driven from Niuety- i fourth street to Thirty-fourth for an 11 | block fare. “1 wasn’t doing a thing on that box but giving him tho merry ha, ha. I knew he had the price in his clothes all right. When we got to the music hall, he jumps out, hands me some silver and starts in. ‘Here, come back!* says L ‘This ain’t right. You owe mo §4.’ ‘How in Hoboken do you make that out?’ says he. ‘I ain’t no blue jay, my man. I gave you tho right fare, and that’s all you’re going to get. Four dol lars? I guess not.’ ‘Guessagain,’ says I as I signs to a cop, who comes up and asks what’s the row. ‘This man is charging me §4 from Twenty-third street, ’ says Air. Dude. ‘Not on your life I ain’t,’ I chips in. ‘I charges you §8 from Ninety-fourth street to the front door of tho Fifth Avenue hotel, and I charges yon §1 from the side door of tho Fifth Avenue to here. See?’ Say, he don’t do a thing but go down in Ids pants and hand mo over a V aiid then jump for that music haR as if ho was sent for. I ‘saw’ tho cop afterward of course. “Ladies—or them that calls them selves ladies—going to tho big stores has tried tho side door trick so often that now, unless wo know them, we ask for the fare before they go iu. ‘Oh. wait here. I’ll want you again, ’ they say, as pretty us you please. But we don’t wait. "Sometimes a fellow with a load will hail us. They’re dangerous. We can’t tell whether they have the price, and they usually don’t care whether they have or not. If we ask for it iu advance, they get mad and wo lose a fare, so we have to take chances. If they dou’t-pay, we drive them to tho police station, and their friends pay for them. Charge for driving them to tho station? Sure. Sometimes we ask them to buy us a drink first, and if they do wo generally manage to got a look at the size of their roll. Charge accordingly? Say, young man, you’re looking for news, ain’t you? You don’t hear any kick coming from us if they are well heeled, though. “ Who pays best? Sports. Theatrical people are good stuff, too, and traveling men ain’t bad. Business men that don’t have their own traps usually know the exact faro and pay it. Strangers iu the city aro generally afraid of getting stuck. They read of how we charge and most always kick on the price. Some times wo add a couple of plunks to their fare and then come down. “Ladies? Well, tho young ones are all right, but the old ones are—not Tell ’em tho price—‘what?’ they squeak. ‘Why, cabman, that’s preposterous. I never heard of such robbery. Just show mo your card.’ I shows it. ‘Well, I’m sure you came a roundabout way, just to make money. Well, I’ll pay it this time, hut I certainly won’t employ you again, and I’ll tell my friends not to.' A lot wo care for that. “I used to have one customer on Madison avenne—an old bachelor he was—that was a regular gold minei He’s dead now, years ago, so I don’t mind tolling you of him. He’d go to • theater three times a week. ‘John, ’ he’d say when ho came ont of the theater (John ain’t my name, but he always called mu that), ‘John, whut time is it?’ It’d be about 11 perhaps, bat I’d say, ‘Twelve o’clock, sir. ’ ‘Very good, John. Drive straight home. ’ Then he’d got in tho cab and go sound asleep. I’d drive slowly to the house and wait there till he woke up. Sometimes it would be two hours—and me not doing a thing but leaning up against the old horse, smoking. As soon as I saw h* was waking up I’d open the door. ‘God bless my sool, ’ tho old boy would say, ‘I must have been asleep. Why didn’t you waken me, John?’ 'I tried to, sir,* I’d say as meek as Moses, ‘but you toll mo to mind my own business, sir.* ‘Dear, dear! Did I say that? I must have been dreaming—and it’s a nasty □igbt too. Can you leave your horse for a minute or two, John?’ I never did taste such stuff ss he used to keep- must have been 40 years old. “Then there was—but you’ll eicuM me, sir, it’s near 11 o’clock uow, and the theaters'll be out. Good nigiit, sir.** —New York Commercial Advertiser. J