The Argosy, Vol. XI No. 20 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE ARGOSY 31] sharp instrument, it wouldn’t take long tu pick what little mortar there is away from a rock, and a hole large enough could soon be made.” ‘* And we could enter by the cellar and be among them before they knew what was up,” added Hart. ‘It isa good idea, but it sounds risky, knowing that is only a question of time before they will be forced to submit. However, I am going to try it.” Broadwell was sent to skirmish in the rear, in search of a tool that would do the work, and finally returned with an old, rusty pick. ‘* Keep a strong guard on front and rear,” ordered Hart; ‘*‘ and also a couple of men to watch these windows and protect me. You'd better start the firing again, that it may drown the noise I make.” Hart would send no one where he would not go himself, and after the firing began he crawled slowly toward the house, while Chub and the two men watched his movements in anxious suspense. (To be continued.) ee HASHED CONVERSATIONS. Have our readers never noticed a singular lack in the English language ? When a friend imparts to you a surprising piece of information you must be especially brilliant if you can think of anything more appropriate to say than the inane *‘ You don't say so?”’ or ‘' Is that so?’’ as if you doubted his woid. These *' fillers in*’ of conversation are troublesome trifles; but not more so than the “five minute hypocrisies’’ of which Caroline Gray Lingle writes in the following sprightly fashion in Aat: Field's Washing- fon - There are circumstances under which it is dificult to be felicitous. Did -ou ever overhear a brilliant remark in a railway station or a hotel parlor ? The cleverest of talkers takes refuge under such circumstances in the flat- rest inanities. Jt would be sweet sorrow to part from one’s best friend, after spending with. him an hour waiting fora train. Your most painful efforts to make the interview satisfactory are absolutely nullified by the in- voluntary wanderings of your eye to the slow moving hands of the clock, and even the consciousness of this weakness in yourself dves not make more forgivable a similar tendency in your companion. Conversation travels in a dreary circle, reviewing the incidents of the last meeting and the pussibilities of a next, broken here and there by an entirely useless message to some common friend. On every side you can hear shreds and patches of similar dialogues till reason totters on her throne, and the harsh voice of the trainman who breaks up the interview with the announcement of the departing cars sounds sweeter than an angelic trumpet. Writers of fiction never part their lovers in a railway station. They know better than to pretend that the most intense of sentimental interests would survive a quarter of an hour in such an atmosphere. ‘The tenderest of parting phrases would lack spontaneity if held carefully in reserve until just thirty seconds before the train starts ; but how else could it be effec- tively delivered, since to say it too soon and have it followed by silence or some less significant utterance would be as fatal as to begin it too late and have it cut short by the ruae cry of ** All aboard !’”’ Whoever has tried to revive an old friendship ina hotel parlor, knows that, in nine cases out of ten, the effort results in only a decent burial of it. Strive as you may, the talk degenerates into generalities as glittering and meaningless as the decorations ot the room; and the comrade whom you would have tound unchanged in the house of a friend, or more than ever delightful as a guest of your own, awakens within you no feeling but one of hopeless canuz. The difficulty arises from the vague consciousness that with so little time te enjoy the society of your companion you should make the best possible use of every minute of it. The sense of obligation paralyzes both the mental and emotional faculties. To be silent seems to imply a certain lack of appreciation of the opportuuity, so you say perforce whatever you find in the re-echoing spaces of your empty brain. Why sheuld the brain always be empty at suchatime’ The only expianation which occurs to me is that the surroundings, which are evidently responsible for the trouble, are not of the sort to permit mental repose, while they are equally inadequate to suggesting ideas. Another moment hardly less agonizing is the one in which you meet an old acquaintance tn the street. You have nothing to say, neither has he, but either of you would as soon die as to admit that a simple greeting would entirely satisfy you. From the time you say. ‘* Why, good morning,” to the instant in which one of you gathers courage to say, ‘* Well, good by,"’ you run a long career of conscious hypocrisy. You speak of the weather, of your relatives, or your common friends + you wish you could honestly say you areina hurry, but you never are. he same remarks show a per- verse tendency to come around again, and there is no more possibility of con- cealing their identity than there is that of the extra tall ‘'supe” in the stage army as he passes across the scene for the third time. The one satis- faccory part of the interview is the blissful moment when you vield to temptation and plead an engagement iv which only the first person is at all concerned. Of course it is quite unavoidable. You wish to testify to your general regard for your friend, and this is the only way open to you. Both of you know very well that such odds and ends of time cannot be used by most people for satisfactory human intercourse, but this does not deter you from making the attempt. Only here and there is your friend's mind so per- fectly adjusted to your own that, meeting him in Texas, you could begin conversation at once with; ‘‘ As I was saying to you three years ago when we parted in Japan— — TWIRLING BOWLDER DISCOVERED. Mavy are familiar with the story of the little girl, who, upon seeing a foppishly dressed young man, commonly called ‘‘ dude,”’ asked if God made him, and upon being informed that that was the case, remarked, ‘* God likes to have some fun, too; doesn'the?*’ Nature is often curious in her moods: as witness the following phenomenon related by the Philadelphia Ledger - There has been discovered about half a mile west of the “ Bargytown Ledges,” in Connecticut, a twirling stone of about five tons’ weight. It has always been regarded as a bowlder, and from the way it is poised on the rock beneath it no one could see why it should not rock. Hundreds have tried to rock it in vain, and the surprise of the man who first felt it move under pressure may be imagined. ft moves hard, of course, but it moves as If it was placed ona pivot. It has been carefully examined, and, while it looks like a bowlder. several allege that it must be a ceremonial stone, set there by some prehistoric race. This rock is creating great interest among the bowlder hunters of East- ern Connecticut. —-ep = ABOUT THAT MANHATTAN SALE. ACCORDING to popular tradition, the Island of Manhattan was sold in 1624 for the sum of $25. The conclusion one would naturally jump to would be that, in the light of subsequent events, the sum was a ridiculously small price. But let us suppose that $25 had been placed out at seven per cent. interest in the year 1624, and had been allowed to compound up to the vear 1884, how much would it then have amounted to # According to the /‘4as- macentical Era it would foot up to something in the neighborhood of six- teen hundred million dollars. Is the Island of Manhattan worth much more than that today ? THE SPIDER STOPPED THE METER. THE superintendent of a Chicago electric light station gives a strange in- Stance of the stopping of a meter and the explanation of the trouble. On examining the meter, which was of twenty eight capacity, after a lapse of a month, in order to determine the quantity of current to be charged for, he found that the consumer, in the pressure of business, had placed a num- ber of small boxes around the meter, concealing it from view. As it was desirable not to disturb them, it was suggested and agreed to that the meter be allowed to run another month. At the end of the second month, says the Chicago 7smes, the coast being clear, the meter was exam. ined, and it was found that it recorded only tive hours since the time of last examination, This looked suspicious, but there was no ground to believe that the meter had been tampered with. A very close inspection revealed the fact that a spider had spun its web around the fans so that they could not rotate under the action of the current. It appears that the screws which held the cover to the top of the instru- ment had no: been put in, and that the spider had taken advantage of the opening and established himself in the cozy quarters. HOW KNIGHTS ARE MADE, THERE is nothing imposing in the ceremony of conferring the order of knighthood at the hands of Queen Victoria. It is not, in fact. a public ceremony. Only those are permittéd to witness it who, by their official connection with the queen's household, may attend her. The loyal subject upon whom such distinguished honor is conferred mey not even invite his ‘best man,”’ nora relative or friend, to witness the ceremony described as follows in London 77/-8B/ts - Arrayed in whatever uniform he may be entitled to wear, or whatever dress court etiquette and tbe time of day make proper if he be a civilian, the subject presents himself before his sovereign and kneels at her royal feet, Seated on the throne chair, the queen Jays the shining blade of a sword across the shoulder of the kneeling but exalted beneficiary, and Savs, using the title which she is about to give: © Arise, Sir So-and-se. Plain Mr. Cheltenham Brown is thus, by a single siroke of her majesty’s sword, transter red into Sir Knight, and he is permitted perchance, to kiss his sovereigns fingertips in general acknowledgment of the distinguished honor. In other cases than this of a plain knighthood, and when the title carries with it a decoration, the yracious queen, with her owr royai ,hands, pins the glittering and much coveted bauble upon the coat of her e evated subject. This is all the ceremony connected with the conferring of knight- hood, but it isa great deal to the recipient. NEITHER WRITTEN NOR PRINTED- Tue Prince de Ligne 1s the possessor of a curiosity of literature. book that is neither written nor printed. ** How can that be ?”” you ask. Well, the letters are all cut out out of the finest vellum and pasted on blue paper. The book is as easy to read as if printed from the clearest type, says the /lustrated American. The precision with which these small char- acters are cut excites infinite admiration for the patience of the author. The book, by the way, bears the title ** Libers Passionis Nostri Jesu Christi. cum characteribus nulla materia composita. The Book ot the Passion of Our Jesus Christ, with characters not composed of any material.”’ The German Emperor Rudolph IT. is said to have offered in 1640 the enor- mous sum of eleven thousand ducats for this work of art. Strangely enough, the book bears the English arms, though 1t is supposed never to have been in England. It isa a EXCEPTING WHEN THE MOUSE RUNS IN. First Vassar STupENT—"’ Say, girls, there’sone thing we've forgotten. We haven't any college yell. All colleges have yells, you know.”’ SeEconD Stupgentr—" Why, of course. Strange we never thought of it. Let's have one.” THirp Stupgent—S But I don't see how we can yell without taking the gum out of our mouths.”’ Fourtu StupenT—"* Let's let the vell go. It isn’t very lady like, anyhow.’ —E.x. DOOKS.EO COMMUNE fd