Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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f*|- • THE LEDGER: GAFFSEV, S. C., SEPTE3IRER 15, 1898. TO THE RIVER DEE. Focl'.sh brawlinv river D*'r. Wty dom thoo Luriy to the He* At stuch u pm'( 5 I know * plme Whir" thou sh'julditt love to pauno a apace In ecatuay. For there tny love, a raaidon fair, With > y.-h of t luo and aiiken hair, Raeh day doth i{o. Yet thou b» low In hahblin? ijjnorarce dost flow. Nor kun nor oare. Oh, wort thou wise to murmun* rrdd Tbon'd'tt wean thy watern, whirlisc wild. Nor flow ao fleet The main to meet, But smile aa Hmilex in idumher sweet A tittle child. Each bubbla then wouldat gently break And of thy breast a mirror make, Wherein she might In coy delight Her image view and at the sight Sweet pleasure take. Yet then, perchance, art no loss wise Than we, wN| oft—too oft—despise Our gifts and powers And precious hour* And hur y past life’s fairest flowers With heedless eyes. We, too, go seaward, borne along pon a current swift and strong. Feme e'er are bent On merriment; On riches, honor, fame, intent. Some trive and throng. Each d< ns he knows the nearest way To happ r«ss, yet every day In ougc ■ -j Some wi uer by The very goal for which they sigh And toil and pray. —Will Hill in Pell Mall Gazette. TWO FRIENDS. Pierre Dnrand acd.laaiuee Duval had been brought up together, so to speak. As small boys their parents, friends of long standing, had taken them to play in the Lux< mbourg, and it was while making sat d houses that their intimacy had commenced. A little later, when short trousers had taken the place of kilts, they had been sent to the same pension. Seated si lo by side at their studies, always in the same classes, they bud continued to see each other regu larly every day. Their fondness for each other was so great that they were uot ;outeuted with merely their hours of work in common, . it when Sunday name they passed the afternoon together it the home of one or the other. From the pension to theLyeee, from the Lycee to the business college, their affection bad only increased. When the time came for starting into business—as each one judged the other peifectly indispensable to him—they decided to form a partnership, and, in fact, it was a very happy idea, for the house, “Durand & Duval, Wholesale Hardware Merchants,” enjoyed an un equaled prosperity. Durand and Duval lived in the same building in which they carried on their business and went down stairs at 7 ev ery morning and worked industriously in the shop until 7 in the evening, thus affording their clerks an example of faithfulness, overseeing everything and, on occasions, not even disdaining to servo a customer. They allowed them selves barely an hour at noon for lunch eon and, it is needless to add, took this meal together. In tho evening they were the last ones to leave the shop and go up stairs to dine. Of course the thought of attending a theater or a dauco without the other had never occurred to one of them. Besides, no one of their acquaintances would have thought of inviting one without the other. To their friends Pierre und Jacques formed a sort of household which one would have hesitated to break, and usually ouo invitation did for tho two. Ouo wrote as naturally “MM. Durand and Duval” as one writes “M. and Mmo. Dupont.” Pierre and Jacques—have we said that they were tho same age?—were in their thirty-third year at present, and this existence which they were leading seemed as if it were to continue indefi nitely when a cable dispatch from Amer ica camo to break np the monotony. An uncle, of whom Jacques bad formerly been very fond, had fallen ill in New York. He summoned his nephew to him. Pierre, to whom Jacques lead the message, utteied a cry almost of an guish ; “And you are going away?” “But, my dear friend, I must, go! If it were merely a question of money, I should not hesitate to refuse to go. We are rich, happy, accustomed to our way of life, and I would not for a good deal run the risks of such a long journey and leave you all the care of our business, but it is a sick man who calls for me, and a poor man, which is a greater rea son why I should go.” "You are right, my friend. You must go.” And Pierre pressed Jacques’ hand. “At least, don’t stay too long,” be added. “Remember that 1 am alone here, uod how desolate I shall be with out you! You will see something new, your mind will be taken up studying the ways of a new country, which you have never before seen”— “Yes, but if I make any friends there I shall have to leave them on my return —and you are sure to find me uuebaug* ed toward you—while you—you will go about by yourself, you will amuse yourself, you”— Here the voice of Jacques trembled a little. “You will perhaps meet some one you will wish to marry, and then what is to become of me without my lifelong companion?” : “But I never think of it.” “No; uot upw, but you may think nt it. At time# I have wen in you already a tendency in that direction. Yon have resitted it up to the present, a little through*love of your liberty und a great deal Qti account of your old comrade and because you fear his sarcasm, but, once away from me’'— “Do not fear that, my friend! I have no mors desire than you have to put a chain about my Deck, and what would ' Mborae of our card games and our tins walks in the evening? No, indeed, have no fear!’’ Jacques packed his trunk, telegraphed for a stateroom and that very evening set out for Havre, accompanied by his old friend, who bade him hii affectionate farewell at tha pier. Jacques was kept three months at the bedside of his uncle, whose recovery was slow. Regularly twice a week the two friends wrote to each other. Jacques’ letters were always filled with accounts of his health, his new ex istence, the interesting customs of this new and clever people. He did net neglect, in his correspondence, even to give his partner tho most minute in formation concerning the hardware busi ness in the new world and to advise some changes suggested to him by the good, practical sense of tho Americans. Pierre’s letters had, on the contrary, gradually diminished in interest and length. Toward the last he had sent but notes of a few lines, as if he were afraid if he wrote at length of letting some secret, which he was trying to guard, escape him. This brevity, cf course, bad surprised Jacques. What is this mystery, he had won dered. But as the hour of return was ap proaching he had silenced bis curiosity, certain of soon being enlightened as to the reasons fer this new attitude of his friend. I shall arrive this eveninx. Jacques, j When Pierre received this telegram, he turnd pale and called his wife. “Jacques is coming back, and I have never dared to tell him of our mar riage !” “Really, this very dtar friend, of whose disapproval you stand in such dread! When I think that it was fear of his blame which made you hesitate to qiarry me”— And, putting her arm around the neck of her husband, Mine. Durand seemed to reproach him for his lack of eager ness. “Yes, I confess it, ” said Pierre, smil ing. “I hesitated, hot uot for long, and these beautiful eyes made short work of my indecision. ” A kiss finished the sentence, from which it was easy to conclude that if Jacques’ opinion had had a moment’s weight with his friend the latter did uot today regret the step he had taken. Ho added, however; “Poor Jacques! This will be a blow to him! Just think, we lived together so closely united! When I remember that ho is expecting to take up our life again in our old apartments”— Mine. Damnd smiled. “Are we not better off whero wo are! And, whatever pleasure you found in the company of your friend, aie you not happier here, pampered by yonr wife—pampered by two women rather, for my sister lives with ns?” “Certainly, and if I have a regret, my dear, it is for not having known yon sooner; but it is not my«eif that it is a question of just now, but Jacques. What will bo tho best way to break it to him?” “Come, don’t get nervous. There ar< two hours yet. Ho doesn’t gel here till 7. Before that we may perhaps find some ingenious method.” “Yes, I beg of you, my dear, think of some way. I trust myself to you. 1 am so troubled, so worried at tht thought of his consternation’’— •‘Take courage. Women are more clever than men, ami I have hopes ol arranging everything. Let mo consult with my sister.” • •••••• Jacques had just entered his home— their home, he still believed. Pierre was awaiting him, and fb< two friends fell into each other’s arms. “At last I see you again!” said Jacques after the first greetings were over. •‘‘And now you will eeplain tc me the mystery. When I think that in your letters”— But he did uot finish the sentence. His glance fell on Pierre’s coat—a coal ol the latest fashion and ent, which contrasted strongly with the clothes bt used to wear, generally worn to the thread. From the coat his eyes rose tc the cravat—and what a cravat! Bril liant in color and so artistically tied! “Did you tie that cravat?” The proof ol tho crime was obvious. Pierre did uot even try to deny it. H* bad no desire to, besides. “No, I did not." “A woman did—only a woman could have!” “Yes, I am married!” “Unhappy man!’’ A little later, and it was the word “wrotch” which Jacques, in his auger, let fall. Tho other excused himself as best h( oould. He said: “It was a chance which did it all. She is so oharming, so pretty! I met h^r one evening at Martin’s. They had invited you and me. I was bored all by myself. 1 went I did uot suspect any thing, I assure you. She was there. I was conquered ut once, and you would have been, too, 1 am sure of it." “Ob!” A gesture of denial from Jacques, but Pierre continued: “Yas, you would have been. To set her was to love her! If you coulo know her! What grace, what charm! Ah, you will not be long in understanding me! Come, and yon will pardon me!" “Never!” “At least yon will dine with me thh evening?” “Indeed, no!" If took a good half hour for Pierre tc persuade his friend, but at last h« yielded. “Yes. 1 will go with you, because I do not wish to appear to sulk, hut it it purely from politeness and that 1 may net seem to 1 «* on bad terms with my pur flier’s wife, fir now it is all ended. I see very plainly I have no longer u friend, only a business partner!’’ Pierre made no answer to this, but bis mustache hid a slight mile. They started to Pierre's heme. Go the way Jacques thought: “ Whatc fool Pierre is! I am sure his wife must bi ugly leaking or ill tempeied! A widow, ho said—doubtless a good schefner who worked upon his ’naivete!’ Oh, it’s enough to make cue laugh!” On their arrival Pietre presented him. “Mme. Durand, my friend, Jacques Duval!’’ Jacques was all ready to saint* 1 her coldly, but at sight of the pretty face he saw before him his coldness vanish ed, and he met her with a compliment. “I am delighted, madume!” And in a low voice to Pierre: “You rascal, but she is charming!” Pierre excused himself for a moment. “I leave you two together. Get ac quainted. ” And Jacques was invited to come and sit upon the divan by the side of the mistress of tho houso» At the end of ten minutes he was completely won over. She talked to him upon the subjects in which ho was most interested, as if she guessed bis tastes and preferences. She was a most charming listener, and suddenly he found himself envying his friend’s fate. “She is absolutely delightful, this woman! What luck Pierre is in! Ah, 1 understand how for such a woman hd could renounce bachelorhood, and i have not the heart to wish"— The dinner was delicious, and Jacques hod to admit to himself that he had never bad a bettor appetite. “You will come tomorrow, of course,” Mme. Durand said to him on leaving. “I?" “Yes, tomorrow end every day. I wish it.” “But"— “You must; otherwise I should re proach myself, for uot for worlds would I be the cause of coldness in yosr rela tions with my husband. ” And, as Jacques still hesitated, “I wish it,” she said and laid her white, soft hand lightly on his. “So be it, I obey,” Jacques answered, moved by this unexpected caress. An adorable smile rewarded him. • •••••• The next day Jacques returned, and the next and every day of that week. “Well, what do you think cf my wife?” Pierre asked him when the two were alone together in the shop. “Ah, my friend, I think her”— An expressive gesture completed the sentence. “Then yon no longer disapprove?” “Say rather I was a fool ever to blame you. If I had been in your place, I”— “It makes me very happy to know yon and my wife are congenial. Just think how I should have felt if you had not liked each other! I only hope it may be lasting and that you may not change your opinion. ” “I change my opinion about your wife? The more I see of her the better I like her, my friend.” “Heaven help you!" And, saying this, the rascal Pierre hid the same enigmatical smile under bis mustache. That happened which waa bound to happen. Submitted daily to the teme influence, entertained by the amiable conversation of his friend’s wife, towched by tho marks of affection which she lavished upon him, flattered by the importance which she seemed to attach to bis slightest word, Jacques passed helpless ly through all the gamut of sensations and suddenly—ho had been home not quite two weeks—he recognized the fatal truth—he was iu love with Mme. Durand. “Well, this is fine!” cried the poor man when ho had looked clearly into his own heart. “What must I do now?” • •••••• “As soon as the shop closes you will jdin me?” said Pierre. "No,” answered Jacques; “don’t count upon me this evening.” “Why not?” Jacques tried to make nn excuse, but it would not come. He hesitated, stam mered, and, urged by the questions of bis friend, he ended by bursting into tears and telling the truth: “Ah, my friend, I am a wretch! I love your wifol” “Very well, marry her!” "What?” “You idiot, do you think I should have submitted to such a course if I bad uot known where it would end? But it is not my wife that you know. The same day of your return she went into the country, and I am going to telegraph her to return this evening. You will like her, too, I am sure, hut, by tho wav, it is her sister with whom you are In love, und nothing hinders you from Carrying her.” “Ah!” “Come, shake hands, brother-in- law!”—From the French For Short Stories. ARABIAN HOSPITALITY. It Is Siucaro and *.t Tlir.*>» Carried to Kl- Uicuioo* Extreme*. The Maltese was talking in terms of praise of American hstpifality and was uot easily diverted fn-m the subject. > As traveling representative for one cf the great ceai mining companies of | Pennsylvania he had been all over tho world, stopping for a time in Rio do Janeiro, then for half a year iu Algiers, Tangier and Tunis, another in Yoko hama und Tokyo—for there was much to do besides taking contracts for coal ! in these antipodal regions. He had been for tho last few months sojourning in ; New York. If any one wondered at first why a native of the Mediterranean island should hold such a position, they ceased to wonder after they had known him a short time. He was master of just the qualities that aro indispensable to a commercial courier—personal magnet ism, energy, suavity and alertness. So j all tho rest of us were attentive listen ers, and as such found even his slight dialect pleasing. But one of the party wanted to know where in the world ho.-pitality was most impressively dis played. “In north Africa, ” wivs the unhesi tating response, “among the Arabs. There, you may say, it takes tho place of law iu some cases, though it is rare ly abused. For instance, if you are traveling and night overtakes you and you do uot know whero you are, you have only to lire ycur rifle, and from tho nearest camp—for they are nomads, you know, living in tents—tho Arabs will answer with a shot to let you know where they are. If you don’t readily catch the direction from which the sound comes, you fire agaiu^and they will build a big bonfire, by which you will be guided to tho camp. When you arrive, they take charge of you and your horse and gun, and tho best that the camp affords is cheerfully placed at your service. So long as you remain within the bounds of the encampment, though you may ride and go about as 1 you please, you arc considered and treated as one of the family. “Yes, hopsitality is carried to what you might think a ridiculous extreme I among the Arabs of Africa. If you have killed a man, for instance, and have in curred lie death penalty and know the ; avenger is on yonr track, your place of I perfect safety is in the tent of your ' pursuer. You have only to reach his I tent and cast yourself and your rifle on | the ground and yonr person becomes sa- ! cred to your enemy for so long as you j remain there, but when you have de- i parted and have gone tieynnd the limits of the camp then God help you. ” “But is their hospitality never abused? Don’t their casual visitois sometimes overstay their welcome?” “Oh, sometimes, hut then there is a delicate hint. When mealtime comes around, the otic, which is the goatskin, filled with buttermilk, is passed to you, and you drink, ch, so much, for it is very refreshing, and then at once they place all mannci of miats and delica- i cies before you, ami you can eat noth- | lug, for yon are full of the buttermilk. That, is the bint to depart.” “But if you don’t go?” “Then they will move the encamp ment. Bnt they will suffer the imposi tion very long before this, for their hos pitality is more than superficial—it is sincere. ’’ ‘Suppose the refugee were to commit aa-overt act while a member of the camp, would tbero be no punishment for that?" “Oh, instantly; the ’mucth el kelb’ —that is, the death of a dog. He is no more ‘ragel h’wueg-haa’ or ‘pharez b’wueg-hna, ’ but ‘el kelb, ’ u dog. The^ Arab has prefound respect for ‘ragel* b’wueg-han, ’ tho cavalier, the man who com* s riding or walking bravely, with bis arms, and seems a man of courage, or his fellow, the ‘pharez b’wueg-baa,’ tho man who come* on foot, as a man of learning.”—New York Commercial Advertiser. Staart and HI* Hob IT. Gilbert Stuart, tho artist, who made so familiar to Aintricams the features of Washington ami his wife, was once visited by two Philadelphia artists. The visit was notable from the fact that rituart imitated the inebriate who al ways concluded his c«hortation against drinking spirits with, “Do a# I tc'.’. you, uot us I do. ’’ One of the artists asked Rtnarl for ?. pinch of snuff from the box iu which bo was insert'ng a thumb and finger every few minutes and then applying them to his own nostrils. “I will give it to you,” said Stuart, proffering the box, “but I advise you uot to take it Snuff taking is a vile habit and should be avoided.” “Your practice contradicts yonr pre cept, Mr. Stuart,’’ answered tho gen tleman. “Sir, I can’t help it," replied Stuart. “Let me tell you a story. Once I was traveling during a very dark night, end couchee dumped us in a ditch. We scrambled up, and on finding by exam ination that our legs and arms were un broken thought of the poor fellow shut up in the basket with the baggage. He was found senseless and his neck twist ed awry. , “A passenger began to untwist the man’s neck, that he might set hie head straight on his shoulders. The senseless man, recovered by the wrench, roared out: “ ‘Let me alone. Let me alona I’m not hurt. I was born so.’ Gentleman,” added Stuart, ‘ l was born so. I was born iu a snuff mill, "and he empha sized the remark by taking an enormous pinch of snuff. “This,” says the author of “Heir looms In Miniature," “was literally true, as Gilbert Stuart’s father, a Scotchman, built the first snuff mill ever erected in New England.” tipping in hotels. ONE LANDLORD’S ATTEMPT TO ABOL ISH THE PRACTICE. An Intcrcatlag Kxperinaant. Suppose two bicycles of tbe same build, one geared to 80 inches and the pther to 04 inches, were started down an incline, with the riders having their feet on the foot rests, which would travel the faster? A test to prove this was re- 4 cenfly made down a bill, and it was found that both machines occupied the same time. The result seems te show ; that when the pedals are not used the : wheels simply perform their ordinary revolutions without influence from gearing. When human p war is ap plied, however, the high geared ma chine would, of course—other things ' being equal—travel faster. Naturally i the strain would be greater on the rider of the high gear.—Rambler. A ChumpsciM) City. Epemay, in France, is a vast subter ranean city, tbe streets for miles being hewn out ol solid chalk, flunked with piles of champugtw of all blends and qualities. The largest champagne man ufacturers in Epemay posses* under ground cellars which cover no fewer than 4* acres end contain 5,000, ^00 bottles of wine. Hat*. The felt bat is aa old as Homer. The Greeks made them in skullcaps, conical, truncated, narrow or hroad brimmed. The Phrygian bonnet was an elevated cap without a trim, the apex turned over in front. It is known as the cap of liberty. An ancient figure of Liberty in the times of Autonius Livies, A. D. 115, bolds the cap in the right hand. The Persians were soft caps. Plumed hats were the headdress of the Syrian corps of Xerxes, tho broad brim was worn by tbe Macedonian kings. Castor means a beaver. Tbe Armenian captive wore a plug hat. The merchants of the fourteenth cen tury wore u Flanders beaver, Charles VII in 14(59 wore a felt hat lined with red and plumed. The Euglish men and women in 1510 wore close woolen or knitted cups. Two centuries ago bats were worn iu the house. Pepys in his diary wrote, “September, 1064, got a severe cold because be took off his hat at dinner,’’ and, again, in January, 1065, he got another cold by sitting too long with his bead bare, to allow his wife’s maid to comb bis hair and wash bis ears, and Lord Clarendon in bis essay, speaking of the decay of respect due the aged, says that in bis younger days he never kept his bat on before those older than himself, except at din ner. In the thirteenth century Pope Inno cent IV allowed the cardinals the use of the scarlet cloth hu\ The bats now in use are the cloth bat, leather hat. paper hat, silk bat, opera hat, spring brim hat and straw bat. The Aurora Moreall* anti Superstition. Conceive for a moment tbe glories of the aurora borealis. We who live in the semi somber atmosphere of this zone may well forestall by imagination tbe speechless wonder which would seize us were we first to behold that most dramatic phantasmagoria of sun phases on sky and snow and ice. The Teutons portrayed their emotions iu their le gends relating to their god Loki. In tho story of his funeral pyre we detect the imagery inspired by tbe splendors of the aurora borealis. Loki is tho ged of evil—toemy of both gods and men. Fire, at first dan gerous, at last the friend of man, is the emblem of this dark god. He is sur rounded by iiumo, through whose cir- cumfeicuce man must pass to the place of eternal sleep. He is pictured as seiz ing his faithful steeds und plunging in to the sea of fire (the aurora borealis), and then disappearing. Men, heroes and gods follow him. Rome return—some never. On, on to the dark icy regions, beyond the dismal iron wood, where all is night—the land of shade—to the very house of death, where reigned King Death guarded by his two dogs. We need uot penetrate much deeper into the mythology of antiquity to discover all the forms arrmujl which gathered the legendary supeaptitien of medieval Christianity couoeruiiiKfaeH.^ Indeed it will^be disoflOpred by stu dents that the Rraudinuviau legends are much responsible for tbe dark, gloomy phases of Christian theology—especial ly coucetuing hull and the devil.—In telligence. Willing to n«H«v* Him. When Tom Rheridfeu Was reading Eu clid with his tutor, he fonnd it vety tedious, fgd after a time ho oatrtd: “Waa Euclid a good man?” Thu tutor did not know. “Waa ba an honorable, trathfmJ man?” “Wo4**w nothing to the contrary.*' “TbeccJon't you think wamigbt taka Mawoadftr oil thin?” ▲ Ileinaa-snble Clock. In one of the town balls in a Japa nese city there is a remarkable time piece. It is contained in a handsome frame, 8 feet wide and 5 feet long. It represent* a noonday landscape, very cleverly carried out. In the foreground plum and cherry trees appear in bloom, while in the rear a hill is to be seen, from which flows a pretty cascade, im itated in crystal. From this cascade flows a tiny stream, which wends its way between rocks und islands and finally loses itself in a stretch of woodland. In a miniature sky a golden sun turns on silver wire, striking the hours on silver gongs as it passes. Each hour is marked by a creep ing tortoise. A bird of rich plumage warbles ut the close of tbe hour, and, as the warbling ceases, a mouse sudden ly makes its appearance, and, scamper ing over the bill to tbe garden, is soon lost to view. Altogether it is a wonder ful piece of mechanism. Missed th« Point. “Professor,’’ said an acquaintance, “yon understand Latin, do you not?” “Well," replied tho professor, “I may be said to have a fair knowledge of Latin; yes." “I know everybody says you have. I wish yon would tell me what ‘volix’ means. Nobody that I have asked seems to have heard tbe word.” “if there is any such word us volix, madam—of which 1 have serious doubts —I certainly do not know what it means. ” “Yon surprise me, professor. A man of your attainments ought to know that volix means Vol IX. ’’ Tbe professor devoted a moment to calling up bis reserves and bringing his light artillery into action. “It is no wonder, madam, ” be said, “that I did not see tbe point of yonr joke. You left the point out of it. Loudon Tit-Bits. Tho** Shrewd Fortune Teller*. They bad had their fortunes told by scientific palmistry — separately, lest their marriage should be suspected— and were comparing notes. “There was only one thing I didn’t like,” said Angelina, “and that was that—that I was to lie married twice. ” “What!” Edwin exclaimed. “It wasn’t my fault," pleaded Ange lina. “Rbo said it was written in my baud. ” “That yon were to bomurried twica?” “Yes.” “Bat I’m to be mTrriiJ twice toa” —Pick Ma Up. Th* Maddening Experlrnre Ahrend Which Prompted Him to Make the Effort U*r* and the Krasomt Why It Proved to Be a Melancholy Failure. The tipping evil and why it flourishes and spreads is always a subject of in terest, and the failure cf the efforts of Landlord Tilly Haynes of the United States hotel in Boston and the Broad way Central iu New York to put an end to the practice iu his establishment and tha comment thereon led him to tell this story about it: “ What called my attention particu larly to it and made me disgusted with the whole practice was our experience in Milan. When we came to take oar leave there, I had already given tips to the servants who waited on ns, to the head waiter and to the chambermaid, and supposed that everything was right. Now, in Milan the hotels are different from what they are in this countrv. They have an inner court, into which the carriages drive and from which they depart with their guests, instead of leaving from the front of the hotel, as they do in this country. Before the carriage leaves a bell is struck. “When we were ready to leave, with everything all right, as I supposed, this bell strnck, and we were at once sur rounded by some 20 servants, bowing and smiling, waiting for their tips. There were more waiters and more chambermaids, who had not done a thing for us. The v bole affair made me mad. They had been tipped all that was right already, but they surrou: ded the carriage and there was no getting away. I had some franc pieces in pocket, and I tossed them out to the crowd, one here and another there until I hud gone around. Then I turned to the proprietor, who had come out, gave him my card ami told him that if he did uot have enough money to pay regu lar wages to his servants, if he would send mo his address, I would see, when I got home, that he had enough to pay them off with. "Well, I came home mad with the whole system. I determined to stop it in my hotel. So I had printed in the bill of fare in largo typo and with two hands pointing to it the statement that the waiters were paid liberally by the hotel, that they were expected to render satisfactory service, and if any one fail ed to do so it would be a favor if the number of the moil, which each one had to wear, were reported to the head waiter or to tho proprietor. In the course of two or three days I noticed that the waiters were looking pretty sober and were talking quietly to them selves. It was not long before two of the oldest came to me iu my office. “ ‘ What is it?' I asked them. “They bowed and hesitated and look ed confused. Then they said that they were a committee of tho waiters to come and see me about tbe notice print ed on tbe bills of fara ‘It is jus’ a lit tle we git,’ they said, 'only |4 or $5 a month, sah. It’s jus’ enough to do up de white vests with an pay for de ci gars.’ “They said it over two or three timea I saw that they had an excuse, and, like Crockett’s coon, it would be best for me to come down. I asked them how many there were of them. They replied that there were 40 on the sides besides three head waiters. "‘Now’,’ I said to them, ‘you are getting ?~0 a month and your board. After this your wages will be raised to $25 per mouth and your board. ’ That was $200 a month, or $2,400 a year. So they went back to work, and tbe notice remained on tbe bills of fare, but I found that it waa impossible to stop tbe tipping. The guests who wanted to be served particularly well would uot give ’he tip directly, but would leava it under a plate or napkin, so that the waiter would get it “This went on for about a year and a half. I don’t doubt that the waiters got more than $5 a mouth apiece out of it before I tried to stop the practice. But tbe reason I could uot stop it waa because the public would not help me. When a man comes in with friends with him, feeling pretty cocky, he wants to treat them well and have ev erything nice. So he gives orders to tbe waiter to set him np the best dinner he can. So the waiter will bring him about everything there is in the kitch en. “You know this cun be done easily where the hotel is on tbe American plan, for they do not order specific dishes to be paid for. If tbe bead wait er asks what be is doing with such large orders, the waiter will tell him that the putty ordered it. The guest is well served and bo is ready to tip the waiter for it. Some day he comes in not feeling particularly well. He growls at tbe waiter and wants to know why he is uot served as well as be was the other day. He goes to tbe head waiter and makes complaint there. Tbe trou ble is with the public. They want ex tra service at times and te cut a swell before their friends. They are ready to pay for it then and fee the waiter ac cordingly, But it is just tbit class of guests who make tbe most trouble at other timet with their complaints. If there is anything wrong with tbe tip-| ping system, the public is to blame for it. They would not help me out and they want tbe privilege of giving tips when they wish for extra good service. I found that it was impossible to stop tbe practice. People want special fa vors and they are willing to pay the waiters iu order to get them. So I gave up the attempt and let the practice its course. ’’—Springfield Republican. Bum*. Judge—Do 1 understand you to say that the parties used high words? Witness—Their voices were unaan- ally high, but their words ware at- £.-emely low —Chicago News.