THE SUGAR-ROLLING SEASON.
L 8. Canfield In the Chicago Times
Herald. In a little while black smoke will be
pouring against the blue sky of Louisi
ana from the cavernous throats of "bag
asse" chimney. "Bagasse" la refuse
MU after the Juice is expressed. Tons
f It are accumulated in sugar-making
Ud In many mills the custom Is still
to burn it. More advanced planters use
It aa a fertiliser. The "grinding- les
son," or "rolling season," Is near at
hand. The broad Melds, which all tum
jier waved darkly green in solid mass,
e brown under the autumn sun. Where
the cane still stands an army of dusky
soldiers who wield the two-foot knife
aa a Cuban wields his machete Is mov
ing to the attack. The serried stalks,
truck close to the ground, wilt fall in
swaths, making what are known as
"windrows." Then they will be hauled
la enormous wagons to a great mill,
which stands near the bayou.
If the mill be of the modern pattern
the work In celerity and system will re
semble the work of an eastern factory.
If It be of the old pattern the work will
lose In efficiency, out will gain in plc
turesqueness. In old days the cane
was crushed between huge Iron rollers.
The Juice flowed Into a tank, where It
was treated with sulphur. Thence it
went Into the open kettles, where it was
boiled until it reached the granulation
point. Thence It was emptied Into open
'coolers," where It slowly formed its
crystals. The uncrystalllzed residue
was known aa "sugar-house molasses,"
or "cooler molasses." The syrup which
drains from the still wet sugar after it
is placed In hogsheads is known as
"black," or "cistern molasses," and is
Of the lowest grade.
The modern mill Is a "diffusion" mill.
The cane Is not ground, but is chopped
Into little bits by macerators. The bits
are placed In huge iron bottles, with
closed tops, where they steep. The pro
cess Is almost an exact reproduction of
making tea. Nearly every particle of
saccharine matter is extracted at a less
cost. Closed vats, centrifugal machines,
chemical rooms and so forth do the rest
of It. It Is all very exact and scien
tific, but It Is not pretty. Planters are
putting In diffusion machinery as fast
as they can afford it, because its use
means much more money in the agri
cultural pockets.
The vast Interior swarmed with help.
Everywhere were faces black as Jet,
Light glanced from a dozen , smoky
lamps fastened to the walls. The in
terior of the old-fashioned mill was all
In one room and an uninterrupted view
was had from end to end. At night the
scene was particularly picturesque.
Then the lights glared, the furnace
flames roared more loudly, black shad
ows danced upon the-walls, song waa
constant. The "sugar boiler" moved
about, an embodiment of authority.
Through wreaths of steam that floated
to the roof dark figures flitted, looking
Hire evil spirits. The men who handled
the long shafts with buckets at the
ends used to spill the seething Juice
from one kettle to another, frequently
were stripped to the waist. The mas
sive muscles showed like ropes under
the black skins. Outside a winter wind
might howl, but in the mill was a tor
rid temperature. The folks from the
big house the planter's family were
down every night all through the "roll
ing season." There waa a fascination
about It that was not to be resisted. The
men who fired the furnaces ran races
with each other. He who caused the
most "strikes" that Is, the greater
quantity of Juice to be boiled was king
of bis fellows and favored of the dusky
maids.
The "rolling season" Is a yearly ex
ample of the fattening effect of sugar.
It lasts generaly six weeks. The ne
groes, trained down by a long summer
In the fields, begin It with ribs showing
and collar bones prominent. Many of
them have the peculiar grayish tint that
belongs to the pooly nourished African.
Romance has gone out of the sea. No
more do towering three-deckers with
bellying sail on sail shear through the
waters of the main. One gets no poesy
from what Mr. Kipling calls a "ram-you-damn-you
liner, with a brace of
bucking screws." Most of it has gone
from sugar making, slain, as the ro
mance of the sea was slain, by machin
ery. In the old time a Louisiana sugar
mill, under full pressure, made a sight
worth remembrance. It was tall and of
"cane shed." through which ran the
carrier that transported cane to the roll
ers. Enormous chlmneya reared their
heads about the building. Wagon
trains bearing cane came and went con
stantly. The cane lay heaped twenty
feet high under the shed, hundreds of
tons of it. Wood fires roared in two
furnaces built under the sugar kettles,
which were set in masonry on the sec.
nd fleor
Why It Didn't Work.
The scllllant young amateur electri
cian had a great scheme, says the Chi
cago Post.
It so happened that there had been a
Urge Dumber of burglaries In the neigh,
borhood. and the young electrician
thought It would be a great thing for
him If he could catch the perpetrators.
The father of the young electrician
had great confidence In his boy, and in
consequence he entered heartily into
the plan.
"Late tonight, when you come In,"
explained the young electrician, "you
must leave your key In the door. That
will be the bait."
The old gentleman nodded.
"I will have the wire strung so that
the key may be charged with electri
city," went on the young electrician.
"That will be the hook."
The old gentleman rubbed his hand
and aodded again.
"Between the bait and the hook we
will land some of these prowlers to
Ight." asserted the young electrician.
"Well. I rather guess," returned the
Id gentleman enthusiastically.
That night the old gentleman went
to his cluu.
The young electrician strung his wire
and waited.
The policeman on that beat stopped
at the basement entrance Just to "get
a bite" and see that no one had run
away with the rook.
The young electrician became tired
waiting and began experimenting with
his wire and the battery.
The old gentleman came home from
the ctub In a cab a little before mid
night ,
The cabman had "been there before
nd he solicitously Inquired If he should
nd the keyhole for the old gentleman.
The old gentleman thought It would
be a good plan.
As the cabman turned a back somer
sault over thJ railing of the front porch
he kicked the old gentleman In ins
stomach and knocked him down the
steps
He also gave a yell that could be
heard eight blocks and landed on the
neck of the policeman, who was just
barking away from the basement door
with a piece of pie In his mouth.
It spoiled the pie.
A wedal of honor has been prenUd
to Major General Daniel E. Sickles, U.
B. A retired, for most distinguished
faSaitfrr while In command of the
TMH Army corps at Qtttysssrg, Pa
THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD.
A Sleepy Mulatto Causes a Com
motion In a Street Car.
This Is not a merry Jest. It hap
pened yesterday afternoon and set the
police aroar. Even at the morgue they
are laughing still. Only two men con
nected with the case are able to pre
serve the proper amount of decorum in
the face of this grewsome tragedy.
They are C. Hudson, conductor on the
Walnut Hill electric line, and Elmer
IdcCunnaughey. the motorman. They
have their own point of view and It is a
lerlous one.
It was Just 3:25 o'clock. The electric
car on the Walnut Hill line approached
Thirteenth and Douglas streets going
north. A sleek, small, smooth-faced
mulatto with a peculiar complexion
signaled the motorman in a sleepy man
ner and when the car was at a com
plete standstill he climbed aboard. The
conductor rang the bell and the car
sped forward. The mulatto seated him
self in the forward portion of the car,
and, snuggling up into the corner,
rested his head on the window sill and
closed his eyes. A moment later the
conductor entered and said:
"Fare, please?"
But the mulatto did not move. The
conductor scrutinized the face closely.
It was the color of death. A cold shiver
ran down his back and a hot stream of
blood coursed to his head. The mulatto
was dead. It was too dreadfully ap
parent. The conductor shook the man,
but there responded to his touch no
sign of life. lie lifted the man s head.
Jt fell back with a thud. A deathly
pallor suffused the countenance of this
unfortunate mulatto. The conductor
shivered and then whispered hoarsely:
"He Is dead."
"O, my, O, dear," cried the woman
with' the heavy fur cape. "He's dead.
He's dead. Let me off at once. Its
awful."
There was another woman in the car
,1 ...aa r,nit a h hvsterical. Both
of them left as quickly as they could.
The man who was tne oniy maie pas
senger aboard wanted to quit, but he
sat still for a few moments and waited.
Meantime the motorman had got an
Inkling of the terrible affair and had
. ... . v. uaiu with a irt-mhllntr hand.
)l U L yj ii me i . - . -
But at length the conductor decided to
go on to the terminus oi tne nne.
Then the conductor ran to a neighbor
ly., cr .tun Ho mllpfl ii n Mr. Joseph
Gorman, assistant superintendent of
the street railway company, wuu -.
in hl cilice at the power house at
Twentieth and Harney streets.
"Hello," cried the conductor, anu ni
voice had tears in it, "Is this Mr. Gor
man?" "Well, this Is No. 4 Walnut Hill, at
Lake street and Military avenue. We ve
i.t a h..hi man on our car. Just
dropped dead. What shall we do?"
"Walt a moment, saia air. uuniwu.
uA wantr nfT tailorl tin the nolice station
and informed Captain Mostyn of the
dreadlul anair.
"This is for the coroner to look after, '
said, the captain, "but I'll call him up
for you. Wh;n will the car be at Thir
teenth and Jackson streets?"
"At 3:55," was the reply.
Tha ..inlaln then rfi un the COronCI'
and told tne attendant who answered
the call to get the deadwagon ready in
a hurry and be at Thirteenth and Jack
son streets at 3:55. He then ordered
Court Officer Boyle, who chanced to be
at his elbow, to go at once to the same
corner and there get a tun report or. uie
affair.
with rvmrt nmrt-r Rnvle went the re
porter. Their destination was only n
block and a half away, wnne waning
for the arrival of the car the pal.
warmed themselves beside the stove in
the corner drug store. Precisely at 3:55
the coroner's wagon arrived. It is very
kic.u on. i vrv xnirirpHtl ve of death.
Morris McKay was the driver and with
him came Charles H. buck, wno wameu
to see the tun.
Meantime the car came on down
town.
For a few blocks Hudson and McCon
naubhey were alone. The male passen
hu.i rtnr.irl.w1 in walk In his destina
tion long before the terminus had been
reached. Other passengers now got
aboard. Conducftor Hudson is astute.
In this emergency he betrayed almost
human intelligence. He would say
nothing of the dead man, stiff and stark
in the corner. He would keep It a Becret
from all.
The car came on.
When it had reached Douglas again it
... u (in... I Thorn were women in
costly furs and some In silk attire.
There -were several men ana one ana an
had no Idea that In the corner the mu
i..i.,. ....... riurl Thov rilr! not observe
him closely, and If they did they fancle.l
that he only slept. But ine conuuciur
L.nA, Hot lor lint h wouldn't tell. As
tute man! A few minutes more and the
car was at Thirteentn ana jacKson
streets. The coroner's man and com
panion had Joined the policeman and re
porter in the drug store. All ran hastily
across the street and crowded upon the
car. Passing the front window they
glanced in and saw the stony face of the
dead mail.
"Oh. what is the matter." whimpered
one lady, nervously. She suspected
something, but she had not seen the
dead wagon. When she did she thought
it was an ambulance. The attendant
stooped down and took the mulatto by
the legs and Charles Back steadied for
the head of the unfortunate man. Then
the mulatto awoke.
"He's not dead," said Buck.
"Well, he ain't, is he?" remarked the
conductor as the colored man began to
squirm dreamily. A moment later Mr.
George Douglas opened his eyes wide.
"Wha's matter?" he said with a yawn.
"Well, we were Just about to take you
to the morgue," said Officer Boyle, who
had a pencil and a piece of note paper
In readln"( to Jot down the rueful de
tails. "Now we'll escort you to the po
lice station and you can tell us all about
how you died.
By this time the passengers had tum
bled. A great roar went up. The con
ductor blushed a rosy red.
"Well, his face looked dead enough
and 1 certainly couldn't walks him up,"
said C. Hudson by way of apology, and
everybody laughed again. George Doug
las accompanied the olflcer to the police
station, and there said that he was por
ter in William Maloney's saloon at
Fourteenth and Douglas streets. He
added, by way of explanation, that he
had come down town to fire up. Being
very tired he had fallen asleep on the
car and 4ld not know that the report of
his death was being telephoned to sev
eral quarters of the city.
The police questioned him about his
physical condition and he Insisted that
he was in excellent health. He was
asked If he were not a "dope" fiend, but
he denied stoutly that he had ever taken
opium or any similar drug. It was th
peculiar pallor of his face that sug
gested the question to the police, lie
remained at the station a short time and
then walked to the saloon.
And this Is why the conductor and
motorman are serious, while everyon
else Is laughing.
A single overhead wire Is used t
drive the cars on a double-track roac
by means of a new trolley-pole consist
ing of a base set In the roof of the cat
to support the pole at an angle with th
roof. The other end of the pole carrlei
a vertical contact rod, having rotatabh
disks at the top and bottom to guide II
on the wire, with a projection on th
nner pole to allow the outer pole t
i,i ide over It when the cars pass eaci
other.
JIB'S GREAT DISCOVERY.
Stanley Waterloo has written a great
book He was onre a 81. Iulsan, anJ
has not been altogether lost to us since
his removal to Chicago. His story has
a pretentious motive. Its object Is to
supply material for completing a link
in the chain of the world's history. Sci
entific men have held that there was a
mysterious gap between the Paleolithic
and Neolithic ages. Waterloo, amateur
scientist though he be, denies this. He
says:
"Men write of wonder at the strange
gap between what are called the Paleo
lithic and Neolithic ages, that 1b. be
tween the ages when spearheads and
ax and arrowheads were of stone,
chipped roughly into shape, and the age
of stone even edged and smoothly pol
ished. There was really no gap worth
speaking of. The paleolithic age
changed as suddenly into the Neolithic
as the age of horse power changed Into
that of steam and electricity, allowance
being always made for the slower trans
mission of new intelligence in the days
when men lived alone, and when a hun
dred years In the diffusion of knowledge
was as a year of today."
The principal characters In Mr. Wat
erloo's book are Ab, a young cave man,
and Mok, an old man skilled beyond
other cave-men in the making of spear
heads. They lived in the mysterious
gap of history, and In the valley of the
River Thames.
Ab became the Edison of his time.
With Oak, his playfellow, he made a
pitfall for a rhinoceros, and caught a
baby pachyderm. Under Mok's teach
ing, he became the most expert maker
of spearheads. He devised many im
provements in weapons and fashioned
out o stone a marvelous kettle, pos
session of which emphasized the su
periority of his family over the lesser
aristocrats of the hills. He was not
yet grown when he invented the bow,
w hich places him above all devisors and
discoverers of his era. Mr. Waterloo
tells of the discovery with much de
tail, as though indeed he had witnessed
with his own eyes or followed the chron
icle of some fact-loving historian.
Home one must have invented the
bow, and indeed some one must have
Invented the w heel on w hlch civilization
rolled forward. Marvelously important
to man were these inventions, and it la
pleasant to read any chronicle that may
pass for their history. Below is printed
Mr. Waterloo's story of Ab's discovery,
the pivotal point and the most striking
feature of his book:
It may be that never in what was des
tined to be a ilfo of many changes was
Ab happier than in this period of his
lusty boyhood and early manhood,
when there was so much that was new,
when he was full of hope and confidence
and of ambition regarding what a
mighty hunter and great man he would
become in time. Ah the years passed
he was not less indefatigable in his ex
periments, and the day came when a
marvelous success followed one of them,
although, like most inventions, It was
suggested in the most trivial and acci
dental manner.
It chunced one afternoon that Ab, a
young man of 20 now, had returned ear
ly from the wood and was lying lazily
upon the sward near the cave's en
trance, while nut far away, Bark and
the still chubby Beechleaf were rolling
about. The boy was teasing the girl at
times and then doing something to
amuHe and awe her. He had found a
stiff length of twig and was engaged in
idly bending the ends together and then
letting them fly apart with a snap,
meanwhile advancing toward and
threatening with the impact the half
alarmed but wholly delighted Beechleaf.
Tired of this, at last. Bark, with no
particular intent, drew forth from the
pouch in his skin cloak a string of sinew
and, drawing the ends of the strong
twig somewhat nearly together, at
tached the cord to each, thus producing
accidentally a bow of most rotund pro
portions. He found that the string
twanged Joyously, and, to the delight of
Beechleaf, kept twanging it for such
time as bis boyish temperament would
allow a single occupation. Then he
picked from the ground a long, slender
pencil of white wood, a sliver, perhaps,
from the making of a 8ear shaft, and
began strumming with It upon the taut
sinew string. This made a twang of a
new sort, and the boy and girl were in
terestei temporarily. But, at last, even
this variation of amusement with the
new toy became monotonous, and Bark
c.'.ised strumming and began a series
of boyish experiments with his play
thing, lit- put one end of the stick
against the string and pushed it back
till tl:e ether end would press against
th: inside of the twig, and the result
would be a taut, new figure in wood and
strlrg vhicn would keep Its form even
when laia upon the ground. Bark made
and unmade the thing a time or two and
then came a great disaster. He had
druvn the little stick, so held In the
v.ay we now call arrowwlse, nearly back
to thn point where its head would como
Inside the bent twig and there fix Itself,
when thu slight thing escaped his hands
and flew t.way.
The (.ulft of the afternoon was broken
by a piercing childish yell which lacked
no element f earnestness. Ab leaped
to his feet and was by the youngste.-s
in a Moment. He saw the terrified
Beechleaf standing, screaming still,
with u fat arm outheld, from whicli
dangled a little shaft of wood which
had pierced the flesh Just deeply enough
to give it a hold. Bark stood looking at
her, astonished and alarmed. Under
standing nothing of the circumstances,
and supposing the girl's hurt came from
Bark's curcUss flinging of sticks toward
her, Ab started toward his brother to
administer one of those buffets which
were so easy to get or give among
cave children. But Bark darted behind
a convenient tree and there shrieked
out his Innocence of dire intent, Just as
t lie boy of today so fluently defends
himself in any strait where castigation
looms in night. He told of the queer
rlayth!n;i he had made, and offered to
how how all had happened.
Ab van doubtful, but laughing now,
for the little shaft, which had scarcely
pierced the skin of Boechleaf's arm, had
fallen to the ground, and that young
person' fright had given way to Indig
nation and she was demanding that
Bark be hit with something. He al
lowed the sinner to give his proof. Bark,
taking his toy, essayed to show how
Beechleaf had been injured. He was
the most unfortunate of youths. He
succeeded but too well. The mimic
rrow flew again and. the sound that
now rang out was not the cry of a
child. It was the yell of a great youth,
who felt the sudden and poignant hurt,
nd who was not maintaining any dig
nity. Had Bark been as sure of hand
and certain of aim as any archer who
lived In later centuries he could not have
sent an arrow more fairly to Its mark
than he sent that admirable sliver Into
the chest of his big brother. For a sec
ond the culprit stood with staring eyes,
then dropped his toy and flew into the
forest with a howl which betokened his
fear of something less than sudden
death.
Ab's first Impulse was to pursue his
sinful young brother, but, after the first
leap, he checked himself and paused to
pluck away the thing which, so light the
force that had Impelled it, had not gone
deeply in. He knew now that Bark was
really blameless, and, picking up the
abandoned plaything, began Its exam
ination thoughtfully and curiously.
The young man's Instinct toward ex
periment exhibited Itself as usual and
e put the splinter against the .string
nd drew It back and let It fly as he had
recn llork do that promising sprig, by
tie wsy, being now engaged In peering
from the wood and trying to form an
estimate as to whether or not his return
was yet advisable. Ab learned that the
force of the bent twig would throw the
sliver farther than he could toss it with
hi hand, and he wondered what would
follow were something like this play
thing, the device of which Bark had
stumbled upon, to be made and tried on
a greater scale. "I'll make one like it.
only larger," he said to himself.
The venturesome but more or less
diplomatic Bark had. by this time,
emerged from the wood and was appre
hensively edging up toward the place
whsre Ab was standing. The older
brother saw him and called to him to
come and try the thing again, and the
youngster knew that he was safe. Then
the two toyed with the plaything for
an hour or two and Ab became more
and more interested in its qualities. He
had no definite idea as to its possibil
ities. He thought only of It as a curious
thing which should be larger.
The next day Ab hacked from a low
limbed tree a branch as thick as his An
ger and about a yard in length, and,
first trimming it, bent it as Bark had
bent the twig and tied a strong sinew
cord across. It was not a discreditable
bow, considering the fact that it was
the first he ever made, though one end
was smaller than the other and it was
rough of outline. Then Ab cut a straight
willow twig, as long nearly as the bow,
and began repeating the experiments
of the day before. Never was a man
more astonished than this youth after
he had drawn the twig back nearly to
its head and let it go.
So drawn, by a strong arm, the shaft
when released flew faster and farther
than the maker of what he thought of
chiefly as a thing of sport had imagined
could be possible. He had long to search
for the headless arrow, and when he
found it he went away to where were
bare open stretches that he might al
ways see where it fell. Once as he sent
It from the string it stuck fairly
against an oak and, pointless as It was,
forced itself deeply into the hard brown
bark and hung there quivering. Then
came to the youth a flash of thought
which had its effect upon the ages:
"What if there had been a point to the
flying thing and it had struck a rein
deer or any of the hunted animals?"
He pulled the shaft from the tree and
stood there pondering for a moment or
two, then suddenly started running to
wards the cave. He must see Old Mok!
The old man was at work and alone
and the young man told him, some
what excitedly, why he had thus come
running to him. The elder listened with
some patience, but with a commiserat
ing grin upon his face. He had heard
young men tell of great ideas before, of
a new and better way of digging pits,
or of fishing, or making deadfalls for
wild beasts. But he listened and yield
ed finally to Ab's earnest demand that
he should hobble out into the open and
see with his own eyes how the strung:
bow had sent the shaft. They went to
gether to an open space, and again Ab
showed to his old friend what the new
thing would do. With the second shot
there came a new light into the eyes of
the veteran hunter and he bade Ab run
Into the cave and bring back with him
his favorite spear. The young man was
back hh soon as his strong legs could
bring him. and when he burst into the
open space he found Mok standing a
long spear's cast from the greatest of
the trees which stood about the open
ing. "Throw your spear at the tree," said
Mok. "Throw strongly as you can."
Ab hurled the spear as the Zulu of
later times might hurl his assagai, as
strongly and as well, but the distance
was overmuch for spear throwing with
good effect, and the flint point pierced
the wood so lightly that the weight of
the long shaft was too great for the
holding force and it sank slowly to the
ground nnd pulled away the head.
A wild beast struck by the spear at
such distance would have been sorely
pricked, but not hurt seriously.
"Now take the plaything," said old
Mok, "and throw the little shaft at the
tree with that."
Ab did as he was told, and, poor
marksman with his new device, of
course, missed the big tree repeatedly,
broad as the mark was, but when at
last the bolt struck the hard trunk
fairly there was a sound which told of
the sharpness of the blow and the head
less shaft rebounded back for yards.
Old Mok looked upon it all delightedly.
"It may be there is something In
your plaything," he said to the young
man. "We will make a better one. But
your shaft is good for nothing. We will
make a straighter and stronger one and
upon the end of it we will put a little
spearhead, and then we can tell how
deeply it will go Into the wood. We will
work."
For days the two labored earnestly to
gether, and when they came again into
the open -hey bore a stronger bow, one
tnpered at the end opposite the natural
tapering of the branch, so that it was
far more flexible and symmetrical than
the one they had tried before. Thev
had abundance of ash and yew and
these remained the good bow-wood of
all the time of archery. And the shaft
was straight and bore a miniature
spearhead at Its end. The thought of
notching the shaft to fit the string
came naturally and inevitably. The
bo.v I. ad itt first arrow.
An old man is not so easily affected as
a young one. nor so hopeful, but when
the second test was done the veteran
Mok was the- wilder and more delighted
oi the two who shot at the tree in the
forest glade. He saw It all! No longer
could the spear be counted as the thing
with which to do the most grievous hurt
at a safe distance from whatever might
be dangerous. With the better bow
and straighter shaft the marksmanship
improved; even for these two callow
archers It was not difficult to hit at a
distance of a double spear's cast the
bole of the huge tree, two yards In
vidth at least. And the arrow whistled
a If It were a living thing, a hawk
seeking Its prey, and the flint head was
burled so deeply In the wood that both
Mok and Ab knew that they had some
thing better than any weapon that the
cave men had ever known.
There followed many days more of
the eager working of the old man and
the young one In the cave, and there
was much testing of this new device,
nnd finally, one morning, Ab issued
forth with his ax and knife, but with
out his spear, He bore. Instead, a bow
w hich was the best and the strongest
the two had yet learned to fashion, and
s sheaf of arrows slung behind his back
In a quiver made of a hollow section of
a mammoth's leg bone which had been
kicked about tjie cave. The two workers
had drilled holes In the bono and passed
Ihongs through and made a wooden bot
tom to the thing and now It had found
Its purpose. The bow was rude, as
were the arrows, and the archer was
not yet a certain marksman, though he
prnrtlced diligently, but the bow was
stiff at least, and the arrows had head
of flint and the arms of the hunter were
as strong as the bow.
There was a weary and fruitless
search for game, hut late In the after
noon the youth came upon a slight,
sheer desrent along the foot of which
ran a shallow but broad creek, beyond
which was a little grass grown valley,
where were feeding a fine herd of little
deer. They were feeding In the direc
tion of the creek and th wind blew from
them to the hunter, so that no rumor
of their danger was carried to them on
the breeze. Ab concealed himself among
the bushes on the little height and
waited what might happen. The hard
fe' flowly toward him.
A Hi-: deer neared the creek they
grouped themselves together about
Where were the greenest and richest
feeding places, and when they reached
the very border of the stream they were
gathered together in a bunch of half
a hundred. They were Just beyond the
spear's cast from the watcher, but this
was a test, not of the spear, but of the
bow, and the most inexperienced of
archers, shooting from where Ab was
hidden, must strike one of the beasts in
that broad herd. Ab sprang to his feet
and drew his arrow to the head. The
deer gathered for a second in affright,
crowding each other before the wild
bursting away together, and then the
bow-string twanged, and the arrow
tang hungrily, and there was the swift
thud of hundreds of light feet, and the
little glade was almost silent. It was
not quite silent, for, floundering in its
death struggles was a single deer,
through which had passed an arrow so
fiercely driven that its flint head pro
jected from the side opposite that which
it had entered.
Half wild with triumph was the youth
who bore home the arrow-stricken
quarry, and not much more elated was
he than the old man, who heard the
Btory of the hunt, and who recognized
at once far more clearly than the
younger one the quality of the new wea
pon which had been discovered the
thing destined to become the greatest
Implement, both of chase and warfare,
for thousands of years to come, and
which was to be gradually improved,
even by these two, until it became more
to them than they could yet under
stand. But the lips of each of the two makers
of the bow were sealed for a time. Ab
and old Mok cherished together their
mighty secret.
THE FLY-AWAY S.
Another New Religion of the Col
ored Folks.
The "fly away" preacher was at the
police barracks last night for the pur
pose of paying the fine of one of his
"fly away" sisters, who was fined Fri
day because she wouldn't submit to
vaccination. The woman, as was stated
in the Constitution, refused to be vac
cinated because she believed she would
never get sick or die, and that vaccina
tion, like any other preventative, was
sacrilegious. She was fined $5, and riot
having the money, she waa sent to the
stockade for eleven days.
Last night Rev. John Smith, the ne
gro preacher who teaches the "fly
away" doctrine, called at the police
barracks and said he wanted to pay ihe
good sister's fine. While he was mak
ing the arrangements to pay the fine re
was questioned by a reporter of the
Constitution.
"We have never lost our faith," said
Smith, "in the divine promise that we
shall not taste death. When we thought
we would all be translated on the 15th
of last March we relied upon a calcula
tion which a white preacher had made.
Now we will pay no attention hereafter
to any dates. We will seek for no signs,
but await the coming of the Lord. We
know if we have the right faith we shall
never die. but shall live until Christ
comes again."
"How many members of your church
are there now?" he was asked.
"We have over 100," was the reply,
"and they are all, I believe, strong in
the faith. They have sold all they have
and are living with no thought for the
morrow."
"Have any of your members ever
died?"
"Oh, yes, a few."
"Well, how came it, then, they died?"
"They were not strong in the faith. If
any more of us die then we know just
as soon as they are dead that they were
not of the faithful."
"Suppose you all eventually die?"
"Then that will be proof that none
of us were strong in the faith. That is
a simple proposition, isn't it? But we
don't like to be called the 'fly awaya,'
for that Is not our name. We believe
that we shall not taste death and we
have nothing In our doctrine about fly
ing awav.
Smith said his congregation now holds
meetings at the corner of Magnolia and
Foundry streets every Thursday night
Smith preaches, himself, at all the
meetings and selects such passages
as he holds supports the peculiar tenets
of his religion. He is a good Bible
scholar and can tell you anything about
the book you wish to know, in both the
Old and the New Testaments. Atlanta
Constitution.
A VITAL QUESTION.
Do Married Men and Women Live
Longer Than the Single.
A celebrated Berlin physician has
recently brought to notice some start
ling facts which go to prove that the
married man and the married woman
live longer than the unmarried. The
facts also show that parents live longer
than childless people.
In spite of hard times and hard work,
In spite of hustling for money to buy
Shoes for the babies, and of the loss of
freedom, of vacations and of quiet over
which bachelors wax eloquent, it Is the
married man who lives, the bachelor
who dies.
It is the married woman, the mother
of a family, who lives on after the old
maid is a disembodied spirit. The facts
ire almost amazing.
Among unmarried men between the
iges of 30 and 45 the death rate is 27.
Among married men of the same age It
is only 18.
Between the ages of 20 and 30 the dis
parity is even more remarkable. Dar
win, in his "Origin of Man," quotes
government figures from Scotland show
ing that ot 1.000 married men between
those ages, 7.2 die annually; of every
1,000 unmarried ones, 14 9 die, or more
than twice as many.
Deparcleux, who kept a record of
IX.&40 aeatns in a renen parisn, rouna
that 43 married men to 6 bachelors
reached the age of 90, and 112 married
women to 14 unmarried.
By marrying at 30 a man adds eleven
years to his theoretical and statistical
chances of life those are French fig
uresand by marrying at 40 he adds six
years. Therefore, by remaining single
or the ten years between 30 and 40 a
man really shufflesjoft fifteen years of
his mortal coll. Every minute he lives
he wastes half a minute, sleeping or
waking.
The mileage of the blood circulation
reveals some astounding facts In our
personal history. Thus It has been
ralculated that, assuming the heart to
beat slxy-nlne times a minute at ordi
nary heart pressure, the blood goes at
the rate of 207 yards to the minute, or
seven miles per hour, 168 miles per day
and 61,320 miles per year. If a man 84
years of age could have one single blood
corpuscle floating in his blood all his
life, It would have traveled In that time
5,150.880 miles.
True bills have been brought In by a
trrand Jury at Westchester. Pa., against
former Congressman Darlington and J.
Mitchell Baker, officials of a defunct de
posit and trust company. The former Is
held for perjury, the latter for embez
lemcnt. The proposed trip of Governor Hast
ings and party of Pennsylvania, to the
Nashvllla exposition has been aban-
loned.
A Famous HorsefTralner.
Few persons at the horse show Tues
day evening, outside the horsemen,,
knew that the quiet, serious looking col
ored man riding a gray horse In the sad
dler's competition was the most famous,
horse trainer in America.
He was Tom Bass, a New Tors:
horseman originally, but now living in.
Kansas City. He rode in the ring th
Missourl bred horse D. L. Bqulrrel, m.
winner heretofore, and got third rib
bon, being beaten by the two Kentucky
horses. Burton and The Frenchman.
Bass has been for many years a fig
ure at horse shows, and for twenty
years has been known as the most suc
cessful trainer and the best handler of
gentlemen's high school and' gattedU
saddle horses.
At the Chicago Columbian Exposition
Tom and his horses were very much in-1
evidence, and they took a large share -of
the prize money. He rode the great.
Forest Squirrel and took first prize in
his class. He showed Lee Rose, an
other great saddler, now dead, and won
another first prize. At the fair he also
handled Miss Rex, whe is to be seen in
the ring here, but not in competition,
and she was also a prize winner. The
colored man and this great trio received,
more attention than any other features -of
the contests.
"I think we had better horses fifteen
years ago than we have now," said
Bass, "but fifteen years ago the train
ers did not know as much as they do
now. That makes the difference.
"The best horse I ever handled and;
the easiest to train was Forest Squirrel...
The hardest was Leo Rose. I had to
fight him for months before I conquered
him, but I never rode him without giv
ing him all my attention.
"For thirty years, or since I was 10
years old, I have been riding or training
and have been fortunate in escaping'
serious accidents. I have had bad falls
and have been kicked several times, but",
never had a bone broken.
"It requires tact and an immense'
amount of firmness, gentleness and pa
tience to train a high school horse, and
a great deal, as regards results, de
pends upon a man's bridle touch. A
man with a heavy hand will start a.
horse pulling and will make that horse
hard to handle.
"On the other hand a man with a
gentle touch can control his mount and
put him through his paces handling the
reins so deftly as to leave the spectators
wondering how the horse is guided and
where he gets his cues. The trainer's
fingers manipulate the reins almost im
perceptibly. "High school horses look spirited and
fractious, but that is part of their edu
cation. Any man who can sit on a
horse at all, can ride them, and any
man who knows how to ride can show
them almost as well as the man who
trained them. Miss Rex, the gray
mare barred from competition in all the
horse shows, spirited and mettlesome
as she looks, is an easy mare to ride.
Last week, in Kansas City, a young
lady who had not been on horseback a
dozen times, rode her three hours on
the streets.
"A high school' horse has sense, and!
If properly trained he can almost go
through his paces and show his accom
plishments without a rider.
"It requires three hours' work a day
and from six to twelve months, accord
ing to the animal's disposition, to grad
uate a high school horse. As the move
ments are the same, nearly all the
trainers use the same tactics and meas
ures. "The horse Is first worked at hist
gaits and taught the slow canter. Ha?
knows those two bits in his mouth
mean he has to arch his neck and hol9
his head up, and he soon gets to do thiss
and pressure upon him is not needed.
"We take up one movement at a time
and thoroughly grind into the horse.
That finished we begin another, but
continually make him work at the first.
When he has been taught all the move
ments the horse has to be continually?
practiced to keep him up to his work.
"A horse has intelligence, and a good?
one, when he becomes accustomed to
the crowds around the arena, is as anx
ious to show himself off as his master is.
I believe some of them actually get to
know the color of the ribbons tied upon,
them."
Young Man's Best Chances.
"Business conditions of great cities
are not favorable to young men,"wrltes
Edward K. Bok in the October Ladies"
Home Journal, advising young men.
about to begin their careers against go
ing to big cities. "It is said," he con
tinues, "that competition develops men..
It does, unquestionably. But to cope
with present competition as it exists in
the centers calls for a vast amount of"
experience. That experience a man.
must have back of him before he can en
ter the competing arena. 'But how can I
better acquire that experience than,
where there is constant need ot it?"
How better, my young friend? By serv
ing a long apprenticeship in some city
smaller than the greatest. The largfe
clties are today poor places in which tu
learn the rudiments of business competi
tion, for while the young man is learn
ing the experienced man swallows hirm .
up. 'But that is experience,' persists the
young man. It is. but a more severe
kind than there is need of; a kind
which, once indulged in, does not leave at
pleasant remembrance. Competition n .
smaller city may be Just as keen, pro
tionately, but. what is all-important to
the young man starting out, the risks
are not so great; the experience is not
apt to be so costly should he fail to suc
ceed. It is a true saying that a man.
before he succeeds in business must ex
pect to measure his height on the
ground a time or two. But it is not.
necesuury that in his first knock downi.
he' should be knocked out.
"But there is another and more im
portant fact which the young man away
from the large cities does not realize. It
Is that the number of possible posltloiuti
in the large cities is not increasing, de
spite the reiterated assertions constant
ly made to the contrary. The very oppo
site is the truth. Various causes explains
this: Higher taxes, higher prices of lotsv
or lack or building room, labor strikes,
and lower cost of production. The man
ufacturing interests of this country are
constantly tending toward the smaller
cities and away from the centers. Alii
this means fewer positions, since only ini
rare instances does the executive brtsaotli
of a business call for a larger number of
employes than does the manufacturing".
ilde. Strange as the change of current
may seem. It Is. nevertheless, m facto
that the young man who today leaves a
tood-slzed city of actual manufacturing:
Idvantages, turns his back on what irt
few years will be one of the Industrial
beehives of America."
MARJORY'S AMEN.
Quaint Marjory, haxel-eyed darling.
At nightfall, white-robed for repose.
Repeated her prayer to "Our Fathet "
From "Hallowed Thy Dame" to It
close,
Each word with a revmnt aocent,
And slow, as.lf stringing a pearl; 1
'For Thine Is the power and the glory.
Forever and ever a girl."
Oh, Marjory, what are you saying t
Forever and ever, Antral"
'No, no, mammal Marjory's praylB-r
A girl, I say Ood will know ths. .
-Tt ttory TMUtl -