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ORACULUM
Wouldst live? Then suffer much!
Drink deep the draught of pain.
He has not lived, or he has lived in
Who knows not sorrow—has not felt the
touch
Of pity for another—weary strife.
False glided hopes, and love;
These things are life.
I
Wouldst hope? Look not behind!
But step upon the past to higher things,
And seek the sunshine. Upon fortune s
wings
You yet may soar, and fortune can be
kind.
Why not? All life Is change—
To ail who truly hope.
Naught is too strange.
Wouldst dream? I-ook in the west!
Drink in the glories of the dying day.
Where cloudy headlands dot the glowing
bay,
Where lie the heavenly "Islands of the
Blest!"
There love Is true and things are as
they seem.
And ail is good anil fair—
'Tis sweet to dream!
Wouldst rest? Keep conscience clear.
Do well thy work; nor heed the hurry
ing throng „
That tempts aside or bars the way. Be
strong;
Keep faith, go bravely on without a
fear
In conscious virtue. They alone know
rest
Who labor long and well
And do their best.
Winning a Million.
BY W. B. HENNESSY.
(Copyright. 1902, by Dally Story Pnb. Co.)
The man had a sharp look that was
aot altogether hidden by the broad ex
pression he wore habitually as he took
the yellow envelop the bellboy handed
him.
“Watt,” he said. He tore the cover
off and read this:
"Paris, France, Dec. 11, 1900.
‘‘To John H. Tressor,
Hotel Metropol, New York:
"You might spend a few months In
France for the good of your health
and make it worth your while. Do
you need funds?
“PENARD."
Mr. Tressor swung off the bed with
more agility than the boy expected, for
he dodged back.
“Got a blank?”
“No, sir,” said the youth.
“Get one; hurry,” said Mr. Tressor.
When the boy came back the man
moved over the rickety marble top ta
ble and wrote:
“Penard, Paris, France:
“I might; 1 will; I do. Cable.
“TRESSOR.”
Two weeks later Mr. Tressor got out
of a train at the Gare du Nord and
naid: “Hullo, Jacques” to a tall man
with a very long face adorned with a
black Vandyke beard.
“Any luggage?” he asked.
“I have,” said Mr. Tressor, “but your
cussed fellow-countrymen at Havre
wanted to charge me toll for bringing
over everything In the United States
and I left It with them.”
“Any letters or names, I mean in
your trunks?” asked Penard, sharply.
“Do you think I’m altogether dot
ty?" asked Mr. Tressor. in an aggriev
ed tone. With which answer M. Pen
ard seemed to be satisfied.
An hour later they pushed back from
the table which contained the remains
of a dinner to which Mr. Tressor had
paid rather more attention than his
companion.
“Now, Jacques,” said Mr. Tressor,
"what is It, my boy? You didn’t send
for me because you were worrying
about my health. I hear you have
been getting along.”
"Yes,” said the dark man; "yes 1
have got along to that stage where I
think that I can help you to what you
most need—money.”
“I don’t suppose you need it your
self.” said Mr. Tressor, amiably. "How
much is there in it?”
"What would you have said to a mil
lion francs?”
“That Is two hundred thousand dol
lars and expense money. I don't
“Do you think I’m altogether dotty?”
think,” said Mr. Tressor, meditatively,
“that there are many things that could
not be done for two hundred thousand
dollars, short of carrying off the
Louvre—if it was only to be split be
tween two people,” he added sharply.
“There are two of us,” said Men
ard, aententiously.
“Then M's get bu«v,” reraaraed Mr.
Tressor, throwing away his cigarette.
"What's the game?”
Penard's sharp eyes went sharply,
but with apparent carelessness, about
the room. There was nobody within
ten feet of the pair.
“For eight years I have had no trou
ble,” began Penard. "I have sold
some works of art, enough to make a
living. It is safe enough, for your fel
low citizens, who are my principal cus
tomers, think too well of themselves
to admit that they have bought smok
ed chromos for old masters. I have
indulged in one luxury. I have bought
lottery tickets.
“You know, my friend, your favor
"Got the coin?”
ite gold brick industry has never
thriven here because the government
keeps a monopoly of good things to
itself. Every arrondissement in Paris,
the city, the republic itself, has a lot
tery whenever there is money to be
had—and the pickings are not bad.
One day when I was hard up I bought
a lottery ticket for twenty sour, and
got twelve thousand francs. Since then
I have become a patron of the lottery
and I have something coming. I have
been watching the method of conduct
ing the lottery and you and I, my
friend, are about to draw a capital
prize. On the fifth of February the
lottery of the Fifteenth arrondisse
ment is drawn. The capital prize Is
a million francs. The drawing is pub
lic. It happens that the mayor of the
arrondissement is so exactly like you
in appearance that it took me a month
to satisfy myself that you had not set
tled down with us and gone in for re
spectability. The poor man is, how
ever, deaf and dumb—his selection for
the magistracy was due to sympathy
for his affliction. He presides over
the drawing. This is the procedure:
"A great wheel containing copper
tubes, each holding the duplicate of
one of the numbers in the lottery is
placed on a platform In the ball of
the mayoralty. A boy taken from one
of the orphan asylums is set before
the wheel. The disk is given a sharp
turn. As it stops the boy thrusts his
hand into an opening in the wheel
and brings forth one of the cubes. He
hands it to M. le Maire, who takes
out the enclosed paper and writes the
number printed upon it on a great
blackboard beside him. The first num
ber drawn wins the capital prize,
which may be secured upon presenta
tion of the ticket containing it.
"Do you follow me, Tressor? A man
as clever in palming things as you
were when you sold little cubes or
soap wrapped up in fifty dollar bills,
actually sold them, for fifty cents each
without losing any money, and who Is
the exact replica of the mayor of the
Fifteenth arrondissement should have
no trouble in winning the capital
prize—if the mayor were out of the
way.”
“It looks easy,” said Mr. Tressor,
"and I certainly need the money. You
buy the ticket and show me how.
It was cool enough in the hall of
the mayoralty of the Fifteenth Rrron
disrement of Paris to account for the
shiver that was Indulged by M. Pe
nard as M. Vigneron—who would have
been hailed as Mr. Treeeor by at least
a hundred men t«iy afternoon on that
part of Broadway lying between Twen
ty-seventh and Thirty-fourth streets,
New York—stepped on to the plat
form.
Nothing had happened. The real
M. Vignerofl had been taken care of
the night before. He had been bo »e
Joiced at meeting the American art
connoisseur, M. Tressor—who looked
so very much like him—that it was not
the least trouble in the world for his
double to insinuate “knockout drops,"
by Mr. Tressor—into the green glass
filled with absinthe that M. Vigneron
was sipping. M. le Maire was com
fortably disposed of where he would
be very certain to get another drink
with more chloral, at any time these
next three days.
M. Penard had among a little bun
dle of tickets in an inside pocket one
bearing the number B118.059—which
was destined to win the million franc
prize.
Mr. Tressor was superb in the
aplomb with which he saluted the fel
low citizens of the mayor of the Fif
teenth arrondissement M. Penard
was very certain that he could see the
morsel of paper held by Mr. Tressor
between the third and fourth fingers
of his left hand. Mr. Tressor knew
that nobody could possibly see it
He bowed to the man at the wheel
and the monster disk was sent whirl
ing. The interesting little boy who
had been brought forth from his home
in the orphanage maintained -y the
citizens of the arrondissement, thrust
an attenuated hand and arm into the
opening in the wheel and drew out a
little, glistening copper tube. He
bowed as he banded it to M. le Maire.
Mr. Tressor was in his element. He
thrust out his arms and pushed back
his sleeves—as he was wont to do
wrhen assuring purchasers of soap that
he had really no means of deceiving
them, even if he was so disposed. He
received the copper cube gingerly be
tween thumb and forefinger of bis left
hand, extracted the bit of paper it
contained, and opening it before the
staring eyes of the multitude—after
exchanging it for that other morsel
which had been concealed between hts
fingers—turned to the blackboard and
wrote:
B118,059.
Whereupon every man In the crowd
examined his bunch of tickets, and
the drawing went on.
It was remarked afterwards that M.
le Maire had never conducted a draw
ing with more empressement.
Three days later two smooth-faced,
well-dressed men met at the Adelphi
Hotel In Liverpool. They secured a
room together.
When they were alone the fair man
turned to the dark one and said:
“Got the coin?"
"Yes. Did you save that ticket that
was first drawn':'’
“I did not; I ate it. I don’t believe
in being found with the goods on me.”
“No? Well, my dear Tressor, you
can order me a gallon of your cursed
American whisky. Then read that.”
He handed Mr. Tressor a copy of Le
Temps of February 7. Mr. Tressor
read:
“It is now practically settled that
the impersonation of M. Vigneron aC
the drawing of the lottery of the fif
teenth arrondissement, and the kid
naping of that gentleman, was the re
sult of a wager or an odd practical
Joke. An examination of the contents
of the lottery wheel shows that
B118.059, the winning ticket, was regu
larly drawn.”
TO FIND THE MAGNETIC POLE.
Capt. Amundsen, the Norwegian, to
Lead an Expedition in 1903.
Captain R. Amundsen, the Norwe
gian, who was first officer of the Bel
gica on that ship’s trip to the Antarc
tic in 1897, proposes to start next
spring with an expedition to locate
the magnetic north pole.
In 1831 Sir James Clark Ross reach
ed a position where the dipping needle
was only deflected one minute from
an absolutely vertical position, but the
question has been raised whether the
magnetic pole Is actually only a point
or whether the peculiarity of the
needle assuming a vertical position
extends over a large area, and further
whether the magnetic pole changes
its position. With the object of solv
ing these two questions Capt. Amuad
sen lias purchased the Gjoa, one of the
strongest and best sailing vessels of
the Norwegian arctic fleet, and will
start for the north in the spring of
1903. The Gjoa is to be fitted with a
petroleum engine and will carry a
crew of seven men.
It is proposed to leave the ship
either at Matty island or King Wil
liam Land, says the New York Mail
and Express, and as soon as the sever
est part of the winter is over to con
tinue the journey with sledges to the
place on Booshia reached by Ross.
King Edward a “Fire Fiend.”
King Edward, from childhood, has
always shown the keenest Interest in
fires and firemen. Of all the enter
tainments provided for him by the
city of New York, he has moat often
remembered, and says he most en
joyed, a parade of the volunteer fire
department in his honor. There were
6,000 firemen in uniform, and all, save
those in charge of ropes and tillers,
bore torches. It was a great specta
cle, and the Prince. a3 he looked at
the brillia: t display in Madison square
cried repeatedly: “This is for me;
this is for me!” with unaffested glee.
During many years of nis life he used
to be informed whenever a really big
blaze was signaled, and he has at
tended, incognito, most of the big
fires in London during the last thir
ty years.—Everybody’s Magazine.
Many a man fails because ho would
rather make money quickly than hon
estly
Rose in Eight Years from
Poverty to Immense Wealth
From the poor debtor's oath to a
fortune of $20,000,000 in less than
eight years is a good deal of a Jump,
but Mr. Albert C. Burrage has cleared
the leap successfully and to-day Is
one of the richest men In Boston and
head of the copper business in that
city.
Mr. Burrage is now forty-one years
of age. Eight years ago he was strug
gling along on a very meagre income
gained by his efforts as a lawyer. But
ho is one of two things—either a man
of destiny or the possessor of great
brain power. He prefers to be called
the latter. Had any one prophesied
that he would become within seven
years a multi-millionaire, he would
have had nothing but the deepest pity
for the prophet, yet the financial ro
mance of this young lawyer readB
more brilliantly than au Arabian
Night's tale.
To learn how very poor Mr. Bur
rage really was ten years ago, one has
only to turn to the records of the poor
debtors’ court for the years of 1891
and 1892, which shows three cases
where he had defaulted in judgments
obtained against him.
Mr. Burrage owes his good fortune
in the very beginning to his indus
trious reading of the newspapers. It
was ten years ago that he saw* an ac
count of the legal fight in Brookline,
Mass., between Henry H. Rogers and
Edward Addieks, who had conflicting
gas interests in that town. Mr. Ad
dicks. in addition, had a large gas in
terest in Boston. Being interested in
this fight as an outsider, Mr. Burrage
looked up the charter of the old
his millions. He was born in Ash
b urn ham, Mass., but went with his
parents to California at the age of
three years, returning when eighteen
years old to enter Harvard. He gradu
ated four years later and commenced
the study of law, being admitted to
the Worcester county bar.
In 1885 he married Alice H. Haskell
of Roxbury, near Boston, a very pret
ty girl, of humble parentage, like Mr.
Burrage himself, and she made a
pleasant home for him on his meager
low-browed, heavy-jawed ruffian, in
ona*R room in sufficiently frightful to
curdle almost any man’s blood into a
dish of living blutwurst or crimson
schmierkase, goodness knows.
But to merge from sweet sleep and
fix the startled gaxe upon an intrud
ing shape which all the disguises in
the world cannot prevent from be
traying Its femininity—oh. brothers,
who among us shall undergo this ex
perience aud not feel his reason tot
tering from the shock?
n.*
TaffcxL ■
u&UUOM*’
Brookline gas company merely out of
curiosity, and learned, to his surprise,
that the company had, by legislative
enactment, the right to extend its
pipes into Boston at will.
Mr. Burrage saw his opportunity.
Hoping for much, but never dream
ing of all that was to come of that
little notice, he made himself known
to Mr. Rogers and revealed his discov
ery, together with the statement that
an option for the purchase of the
Brookline gas company could be ob
tained.
Mr. Rogers was delighted. It gave
him a weapon against Mr. Addicks,
ami the Brookline gas company pass
ed into the hands of the Standard Oil
company.
To make matters clear it must be
explained that Mr. Addicks had for
years been enjoying a virtual mon
opolyof all the gas business in Boston.
The people were protesting against
the high prices charged.
The contract for lighting the streets
of Boston was about to expire and the
mayor invited Mr. Addicks to meet
him and consider a proposition for a
reduction of rates. Mr. Addicks did
not see the mayor.
This little Incident and the reor
ganization of the Brookline Gas com
pany were almost coincident. Mayor
Mathews realized that the greatest
foe to monopoly war, competition, and
when the Brookline Gas company
came forward and offered to light the
city for far less than the Addicks
company its offer was gladly accepted.
Mr. Addicks was thus pushed to the
wall and gladly came to terms in the
end. As counsel for the Brookline
Gas company and the Standard Oil
company, Mr. Burrage was given the
enormous fee of $81(0,000, said to be
the largest ever known in legal his
tory anywhere in the world.
This was the beginning of his Alad
din-llke wealth. The Standard Oil
people appreciated the worth of so
brainy a man to such an extent that
they not only invited him to embark
with them in some of their copper
deals, but when the Amalgamated
Copper company was formed, be was
appointed to represent New England
In the directorate, a position which he
holds to-day.
And that is how Mr. Burrage made
salary and shared his poverty with
fortitude.
To-day they live in the most lordly
mansion in all Now England, a superb
palace on Commonwealth avenue,
which was built at vast cost and fur
nished with the best that Europe and
America could afford.
He has a beautiful Italian villa at
Cohasset and a palatial home in Red
lands, Cal., surrounded by thousands
of acres. Here he spends hi3 winters
with his family, traveling In his pala
tial private train, wiMi numerous ser
vants and the costliest of appoint
ments.
Mrs. Burrage is a pretty woman,
tall and slender, who Is as yet bewild
ered with the vast wealth that has
come to her. She lias no social ambi
tions. Her husband loads her with
jewels and fine clothes, and she drives
about in very splendid carriages. He
is as much her lover as ever. They
have four children, who, once forced
to know poverty, now revel in the
glory of riches. They have the most
superb playrooms and toys and are
keen in their enjoyment of the fairy
like things that come to them.
Mr. Burrage’s steam yacht Aztec,
which was launched from the Cres
cent Shipyards at Elizabethport re
cently, is the largest steamer built
this season, and when finished will be
one of the most elaborate afloat. It
was built for Henry Clay Pierce of
St. Louis. Mr. Pierce finally decided
that the yacht was not as large as he
wanted, and she was purchased for
Mr. Burrage, for whom she is being
completed. The yacht cost about
$340,000 to build and equip. She is
to be ready by Aug. 1.
A WOMAN UNDER THE BED.
Awful Possibilities Which the New
Century Has Brought Forth.
Beyond all possibility of a reassur
ing doubt to the contrary, the terrify
ing story developed by the arrest of
May Willard, a St. I.ouls young wom
an, who confesses that she has been
in the habit of burglarizing houses,
disguising herself in man’s attire, will
strike a panic to all masculine souls,
says the St. Louis Republic.
Waking in the dead of night to espy
the ordinary housebreaker, a burly.
Miss May Willard, professional bur
glar and male impersonator, has ma
terialized a terror of appalling por
tent to the masculine soul. For gen
erations we have laughed at women
because of their timorous bedtime
habit of looking under their couches
for a possible man. It is safe to say
that hereafter no St. Louis man will
be able to retire tranquilly without ^
first having satisfied himself that
there is no woman under his bed.
Even then, alas, his sleep will be
fitful and feverish because of the fear
that ere daylight the woman who
failed to hide herself under his bed
will come to him through the win
dow!
LAWYER WAS PERSPICUOUS.
Eloquent and Amusing Declaration of
a Country Attorney in Ohio.
When Congressman Tompkins of
Ohio was practicing law in his young
er days in the buckeye state and was
winning his spurs he occasionally
found it profitable to accept a case in
a justice’s court in the country. He
tells the following story of the argu
ment made by a rural barrister before
such a magistrate.
The case was one in which the
plaintiff sought to recover damages
from a railroad company for the kill
ing of a cow. During the course of
his argument the country lawyer
used this expressive sentence:
“If the train had been run as it
ifnould have been ran, or If the bell
had been rung as it should have been
rang, or if the whistle had been blown
as It should have been blew, both of
which they did neither, the cow would
not have been Injured when she was
killed.”
Mr. Tompkins does not state
whether the man recovered damages
for his bovine.
Two Ways to Teach Parrots.
"There are two ways,” said a bird
dealer, “of teaching a parrot to talk.
One way is to put him in a darkened
rodm, to sit in a corner and to re
peat over and over again the word
you want him to acquire. A clever
narrot will learn a word or a phrase
after some four hundred or five hun
dred repetitions: while for some It
takes a week or more. You must
keep still in the room. No so'hnds
from within or without the house,
save your voice monotonously repeat
ing the phrase to be acquired, must
reach the parrot’s ear. Some people
teach their birds in a well-lighted
room, speaking from a place of con
cealment in a closet or behind a door.
This method is not so good, because,
In the light the parrot’s attention is
distracted.”
The Title of "Doctor.”
The title of “doctor” was invented
■in the twelfth century and conferred
for the first time upon InerCus, of the
University of Bologna. The first "doc
tor of medicine" was Gulielmo Gorde
nio, who received the honor from the ^
( ollege of Aosti, also in Italy, in 1220.
—Metaphysical Magazine.