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About The Clancy Miner (Clancy, Mont.) 1896-1899 | View This Issue
The Clancy Miner (Clancy, Mont.), 13 June 1896, located at <http://montananewspapers.org/lccn/2014252005/1896-06-13/ed-1/seq-2/>, image provided by MONTANA NEWSPAPERS, Montana Historical Society, Helena, Montana.
Te ar a eeeenneeeenciaesee THE HAPPY VALLEY. f cunieemnepiperemonneras , HI! golden valley, still in thee My last retreat and sanctuary, I may behold the climbing sun His undimmed course of glory run, ‘And from dawn's altar see uprise The fire of unsoiled sacrifice. About the stillness of thy ways, ‘The ebb and flow of nights and days With no tumultuous voice doth keep Strange parley at the gates of sleep; But in quiet onset and resurge The light and dark at heaven's verge * Are even as angels newly kissed By God at some High Eucharist. The stars wide-eyed upea thee look Like children at an open book, And from their fiery tresses fall The dews of dreams ambrosial. / The winds, like priests august, do swing The fragrant censer of the spring, Floating about auroral skies Serene and radiant harmonies. i Ah! golden valley, still for me Keep thy remote simplicity, That when the babble of the world About my ears like foam is hurled I may from thee, the undefiled, Relearn the wisdom of a child. - —Pall Mall Gazette. ie ” QUITE AWKWARD. e 66 CC crsnove it! Wherever - Charlotte be?” It is M. Chapoulot who speaks, and, as the words show, M. Chapoulot is out of humor. Ordinarily M. Chapoulot is as good-tempered and easy-going” 7s one would expect in a.man of 60 who, having been, like John Gilpin in his diy, a linen draper bold, has in good time re- tired to enjoy a modest competency in re- pose. Your wealthy London tradesman now, who has grown rich beneath the shadow of St. Paul's, if he retires at all before death or disease puts him hors Je combat, flies off to spend his fortune at Brighton, or Bath, or Cheltenham—any- where rather than in the great metropolis where he has made it. But M. Chapoulot like. the true Parisian he is, will never de ° sert his Ville Lumiere, and has retired no further than from the bustle of the boule- vards to the more peaceful Rue de la Tro- cadero. There-he tives with- his only daughter. Charlotte, and an old faithful servant of the family, and it is the former whom ne is at this moment patiently awaiting. It is dinner time with the Chapoulots, who dine at 6 One might see it by the snowy table cloth, the neatly rolled ser- viettes with their little ivory rings, the plate, the glasses, and here, lifting its head in sovereignty over all, the tall wine / bottle with its petit blanc vin, which is to the Parisian what tea and coffee, and beer, and all the beverages of the day are to the average Englishman. M. Chapoulot always begins his dinner with punctuality, but he has never be- gun it without Charlotte. And Charlotte comes not. Five minutes past 6, and M. Chapoulot’s impatience becomes annoy- ance; 10 minutes, and it is even anger, # quarter past, and he 1s furious. Hunger, they say, will tame a lion, but it will none the less ruffle the equanimity of a saint. Wherever can Charlotte be? She has gone this afternoon to take her music lesson in the Boulevard Barbesse. She goes three times a week, and always returns in am- ple time for dinner. Twenty past, anger begins to give way to alarm, half past 6 and no Charlotte. M. Chapoulot is trembling with anxiety. Hurriedly he summons the old servant, asks for his hit and boots; he will go out himself and see what may have happened. But suddenly there was a merry little rap at the door, and Charlotte enters. No evil can have come, for there she stands in the doorway, smiling, radiant, in all the ease and grace of la petite Parisienne. “Oh! papa—I—\ < But M. Chapoulot’s fear gone, his im- patience again usurps supremacy, and reassured about the safety of his daugh- ter, he begins to feel anxious for the flavor of his. dinner. - “Come to the table first. You can tell me while eating. I shall understand better then.” can Male iieed “Oh! but papa, you don’t know. I have had an adventure.” “An adventure!” exclaims M. Chapou- lot, starting from his seat, and dropping his spoon in the soup, upon which he ha. already commenced. “Yes, papa; an adventure in an omni- bus with a young man.” “The omnibus—with a young man! a bleu!\ “But with a young man comme if fart, papa, I can assure you.” “You ought to know, Charlotte, that a young man comme I! faut has not adve'i- tures, above all in an omnibus. Whatev-r do you mean?” “It was very simple, papa. .You neal not make such a cruel face. That is 4 ching which happens often enough.” “Yes, yes; especially to those who have not got one. Go on.” “I never discovered it until the con- ductor held out his hand to get my fare. What could I do? What could I say? I should be taken for a pauper—for an al- yenturess, perhaps. I was crimson; I wis pale. I felt that I should faint, hen ha»- pily a young man who sat next to me gave the conductor a piece of silver, saying, *Take for two.’ This gentleman, seeing my. embarrassment, hai kindly paid my fare.” “Well, miss, you have done a nice thing. Accept 6 sous from a stranger! You had better have explained to the conductor, to the driver, to all the company. But p29- ple should not forget their purses—I never do. And now, how will you return his money? You will never think of keeping it?”’ : “T have his card, papa. M. Agenor Bali- chet, clerk at the ministry of—\ But papa, without hearing another.Word, has snatched the piece of pasteboard from her hand, exclaiming: “What! This gentleman, not content with insolently lending his 6 sous, has had the impudence to force his card upon you into the bargain! He ts a very scoun- drel, your young man comme il faut.”’ “But, papa, I could not return his money if I did not have his address.” M. Chapoulot has not a word to answer to this ingenious argument, but, with a gesture of the intensest irritation, throws down his serviette upon the table. “It is written that I shall not dine this evening,’’ he says to the old servant. “Find me a cab at once. I am going to restore this Agenor his 6 sous immediately and to tell him a few truths as well.” . “But, papa, that would be ingratitude. You must remember that this young man has saved your daughter from un faux Par- “Un faux pas? He has rather led you into-one. But, silence, miss, I am not _ going to receive lessons, above all, lessons in memory, from a silly girl who forgets her purse.” { M., Chaupolot has taken his hat and Jooks even more enraged than ever. man is at the door, but he will only agree to a single journey.” “Oh, that will do. I can easily find an- other to return.” And M.* Chapoulot goes out in furious haste, while Charlotte timidly confides to the sympathizing servant that she knows even more of the young man than she dared to say. Fora month past he has regularly traveled in the same omnibus, and she has noticed that he has noticed, etc., etc. . * * *. . . Agenor, in his bachelor apartments, sits thinking over-his experience of the even- ing, and vowing that he will not wash until the morning the hand that had been touched by the dainty fingers of Char- lotte when she received the card. Suddenly a Sharp rap at the door, @ violent opening, and a stout gentleman, out of breath, his hat upon his ears and cane in hand, breaks in upon his dream- ing. Monsieur,” exclaims the invader, “your conduct is scandalous. You are not worthy the name of a French gentleman, An honest man would never take advan- tage of the embarrassment and inexperi- ence of a young lady. To profit by the absence of a father and a purse to offer your money—and your ecard in the bar- gain—to an unprotected girl, it may be a good investment, but it is a bad action. I have brought your 6 sous again, and would have you to know, sir, that as for my daughter and myself, we wish to have nothing to do with you.” And the stout gentleman, trembling with his vehemence, puts his hand into his pocket to get the money, when, before Agenor has time even to recover from his bewilderment, a new actor enters upon the scene. Tt 1s the cabman,,ait furtors, with an oath upon his lips, and brandishing his whip in a threatening manner. s “EH, you! What do you mean? You engage me for a single journey. I tell you I cannot stay. You even order me to hurry: And then you jump from my cab like a madman and rush in here without a word. None of that for me. I have only one thing ‘o ask. Pay me my money quickly or—\” and the whip goes around again more emphatically than before. Agenor unJerstands nothing of it. But the stout gentleman, who has searched vigorously in ail his pockets, becomes suddenly pale, then red, then redder still, then crimson, then violet. He is silent in stupefaction a minute, and then, in an- swer-to a more vigorous demand from the cabmun, he manages to falter: “I have—forgotten—my—purse!”’ “Oh, yes, I know,’’ cries th enraged coacher, “I have seen that dodge befo-e. You needn't try it on with me. Come along, you shall tell your tale at the police office.’ And he begins to drag away by the shoulders the unfortunate Chapoulot, who is ready to fall into an apoplectic fit. But Agenor, a true providence for the family, draws from his pocket the neces- sary sum and dismisses the driver. “You will allow me, sir,’’ he says to M. Chapoulot, who, all at once, understand- ing that it is possible to forget One's purse, and that of all friends a friend in need is one indeed, can only reply with a smile: “Monsieur—M. Baluchet, I believe —” centimes for the omnibus and 1t franc 75 for the cab, that makes 41 sous I owe you. If you will be good enough to dine with me this evening we will settle our affairs at once. As an old business man, I like not outstanding debts. Besides, ready reck- onings always make good friends.” . * * . . . A quarter of an hour later the servant puts a third plate upon the table in the Rue de la’ Trocadero. A month later there is still a larger party, when the wedding of Charlotte and M. Agenor '8 celebrated. And M. Chapoulot will often say to those who care to hear him: “Beware of borrowing, oh, fathers of families! C’est un faux pas. I made once a debt of 41 sous, and could only repay st with a dowry of 20,000 francs.’'—Strand Magazine. ee At the Gallery. In a window on Broadway, where there are a couple of automatic photograph machines on exhibition, a man stepped up witr his dime in order to get a coun- terfeit presentment of himself, althougn why he should wish to dupticate iis features was not apparent (0 the by- standers. He dropped his dime into the slot anl seated himself in the bright sunlight of publicity “while the crown outside mide remarks on his personal appearance that went with his face, they were so plain. A woman out shopping stopped at he window just as he settled himself with n self-satisfied smirk. She had heard the consensus of opinion coacerning the mor- {ts of his face, and her hair immediately matched her complexion, and she walked to the door of the store, whence issued, in a minute, the homely man, with his pi-- ture in his hands. She first clutched the tintype and flung it into the mud on Broadway. and then she said to the man in tones that froze his marrow, if he happered to have any of that commodity about him: “You biz, lantern-faced, wopper-jawed, siab-sided, wall-eyed bundle of edds antl ends, haven't you any better use for your money tnaa to make 47 ass of yourseil for all New York to grin at and make in- sultin’ remarks about? Ugh? I'd rather vou'd spend it on drink, the way my first husband did. If you wanted a comic val- entine you could get ten of ’em for the money you spent, an’ not make such a holy show of yourself, either.” And she took him by the arm and pulled him down a cross screet after her, while her flow of vigorous English spouted out with all the fervor of . leaky, hydrant. ere The Cruel Truth. Years ago a member of the Indiana leg- islature, in a brand new suit of broad- cloth and a silk hat, gold-headed cane ond white lawn tie, wandered up into the sanctum of the Courier-Journal, stood around in a listless way, looked over the papers, went downstairs and came back several times, says the Wahington Star. He was asked to take a seat, which he de clined elaborately, and ended by drawing his chair in a confidential way up to the “roundabout” map’s desk. “Could you,’ he said, put in tne paper that, I am at the Galt house with my bride, and just fling in something about my being a prominent Indianian? I don’t care anything about this sort of thing myself, but you know how the women are. I want fifty copies sent to this address,”’ and he taid down $2.50, grinned, got red in the face, said ‘‘good morning,” and vanished. Next morning he read that “Mr. John R. Huckleberry requests us to say that he is at thé Galt house with his brid»; that he is @ prominent member of the legislature of Indiana, and that he him- self, personally , cares nothing abont newspaper notoriety, but that a society note would be highly gratifying to Mrs. Huckleberry. He added that he wanted fifty copies of the paper for distribution The old servant comes back. ‘‘A- cab- \ et ae ¥ 5 * to his constituents.” THE CLANCY . aye? - — THE CZAR’s BRAVES PROTECTORS Fearon Story of the Two Jinrikisha Men Who Rescued Nicholas in Japan. — Marquis Yamagata's recent visit to New York when on his way to Moscow to rep- resent Japan at the coronation ceremonics of Nicholas II brings to mind the incident of the assault made upon the person of the present cgar when, 35 egarowitz, he was traveling in Japan. It gives occasion to tell there anent a curious story, says the New York Press. It is commonly supposed that the czaro- witz owes his life to the timely interfer- ence of Prince George of Greece, but he does not, He owes it to jinrikisha men, They were nearest to the crazed police- man who miade the attack, and they were f. quick to defend the czarowltz, and so the credit-of -the-rescue. is theirs. It. isno fault of Prince George that he was not there in time. He was a little too far away to help as much as the jinrikisha men did. One of these jinrikisha men was brought up to the business, and the other, who was a country“lad; pulled the little cart about to earn enough to pay to get himself edu- cated. They were strong lads; two as likely fellows as could be» found in Ktoto. Though similar physically, in other ways they differed, as the following sequel io their act of rescue shows: They had seized the mad policeman he- fore he had done more than scratch the forehead of their royal charge, and ull Japan rang with their praises. The gov- ernment decorated them and gave to each a pension. The czarowitz had them to dine with him aboard a Russian man-of- war, and at*the dinner handed them 2500 yen aplece and a guarantee of 1000-yen a year for life. Had they conquered Chi- na they would scarcely have been more famous. The day after the dinner with the czar)- witz the farm lad set out for home and was met at the outskirts of his native vil- lage by all its inhabitants, As the *rik- isha in which he was traveiing came in sight the young man’s mother ran for- ward and, pushing aside the coolie who, was between the shafts, took hold of the bars herself. and drew her son down through the village streets in triumph. He had brought his money with him, and he used it to good advantage. A mortgage on the farm his father had left him was pa‘d off, improvements were made, and the principal business of the village soon came into his hands, and his mother was supremely happy. The other man did differently. no country home to go to. He in Kioto, and there he remained. All who had ever known him and many who had not heard of him sought to entertain him. He wished to entertain in turn. The 2590 yen he had received seemed inexhausttble. and, besides, were there not 1000 more io come each year? There was no reason why he should not live as a prince of the royal blood. Henceforth it should be wine, women and song. He would drink the best sake the empire could furnish; the daintiest sashimi would be his daily fare; every night the prettiest geisha in the land should dance and play for him. Life should be a frolic for himself and his friends. For a month’ it was so. Kioto is the gayest town in the mikado’s empire, and when one has money tbere is no place to compare with it. Then the 2500 yen were gone, the decoration was in pawn, and the pensions from two governments had been anticipated so far ahead that there was not enough in sight to pay for a pair of waraji. The city hospital took the forlorn spendthrift and nursed him until he was in shape to go between the shafts once more, where his reputation as “‘the man who was\ attracts the curious and is now his only guarantee of a livelihool. He had belong? 1 SALMON OF THE PACIFIC COAST Facts Brought Out in a Paper Before New York Academy of Acience. In a paper read before thé New York Academy of Sciences, a short time since, Dr. Tarleton H. Bean presented some new MINER: CLANCY, MONTANA. — facts, relating to the Life history of ihe salmon of the Pacific coast. He said: “Pocullar interest {s attached to these | fishes because of their extensive ranz,. the great size of some of the species, the | enormous abundance of individuals, caus- | ing them at certain periods literally to fill the rivers so as to prevent other kinds of fish from ascending, their surpassing qualities as game fish and their econom- ic value as food. “What we know bout the marine life of the salmon is very little, indeed. We are tolerably familiar with their habit and method of spawning in the rivers and lakes—but after they have descended to the ocean they have passed beyond our limits of observation, and we have usual- ly waited for the return of the reproduc- tive Instinct to bring them again shore- ward and within the reach of fleld zoo- logists. “Fortunately, among the fishermen are some who show their interest in science by making collections for the students as opportunity offers. Mr. Barling of San Francisco, while managing a fishery at Karluk, Alaska, last year, seined some yeung specimens of red salmon which he found standing in from, sea with the adults. There were in the seine haul 100 young fish about six inches long, and only 900 full grown ones. “This interesting fact has been observ- ed by Mr. Barling for a number ‘of years, and he determined to learn what the sal- mon are, and .what significance attaches to their capture at the mguth of a river when they are supposed t be well out at sea feeding on aeaSAoe and little fish. “The significance. of the discovery is that it upsets our scheme of the life of the salmon. After the young adopt the sea- going habit they should remain in salt water until sexually matured. If this ob- servation be .verified by later inquiry, and there is little reason to doubt that it will be, our scheme of salmon migrations will need reconstruction.” a Indian's Take the Keeley Cure. Fifty Osage Indians are busy taking the Keeley gold cure, and yet there are some folks who say the Indians are not keeping up with the march of civilization. The Indian Who can manage to get rum enough aboard to require the gold cure is cer- tainly smarter than he is given credit for. Blow at Gotham Music. A city ordinance in New York limits the number of hand organs to 1500. The resulf has been to crowd Brooklyn full of peram- pulattng music boxes, to the great annoy- re ‘ RG . » 1 & swe THE GOOSE FEATHER. (An American Indian song.) LACK lake, black lake— The wild goose hid within the brake; The string upon my bow fell loose, The arrow slipped and missed the goose. He heard my step and flew away; I found a feather where he lay. Arrow thin, arrow thin— I struck the black goose-foather in. Black lake, black lake— A goose lies dead within the brake. ‘This morn his own black feather whirre’l, And sped the shaft, that killed the bird. —@parles A. Collmann in the Century. - A WATERLOO GUIDE, acd a little impudently up here at the top of the Belgic mound; men face it bareheaded, and ladies control their distended skirts. The guide fans his brown face wiih his crape-bound bowler hat, mops his neck with his red handker- chief, and looks down at the wagonnette bumping along the white thread of road below from Braine !’Alleud. The guide is not one. of the uniformed men who wait at the hotel; he prefers to give a free lec- ture in regard to the affair of '165 and to trust to luck. “En attendant,” says the guide, “I gif you my cards. No charge.\’ The guide's cards, taken gingerly from an envelope, are in French and English, and the French is, if anything, the more accurate. On the English side of the card the style leaves Something to be desired. “ELis father was employed immediately after the battle to assist the wounded. Was thirty-two years has guide to the stran- gers.”\ “Tiiey arrive!’’ cries the guide. A breathless, joyous crowd. They swarm up the narrow steps; they walk briskly rdund the four corners of the pedestal on Te cool breeze comes pleasantly and which the lion stands. Only at the guide’s earnest, almost tearful request, do they consent to seat themselves on tiers of the pedestal-and listen. “One moment, mister.”’ ; “At your service, sir,’’ replied the guide. “Is this Waterloo?” “I go to tell you, sir You must git attention, if you pleast, be-cause—\ “Well, where do I get a train for Kemp- ton Park?” The guide frowns at the amused ones, and clears his throat. “I never saw such a station as Water- loo,\” grumbles the youth, agegerievedly. “No one ever seems to know anything about the trains here. Where's the sta- tion master?” “Will you o-bige me, sir?’ The guide addresses the humorist with much polite- ness. .\‘I find you leedl’ seat here—joost ai Close to this sharming Americaine. The humorist youth Is placed near a damsel with amazingly small brown shoes, and consents to control his spirits. The guide raises his thick stick, points with sudden excitement south, and raises his voice: “I com-mence to tell you the trut’. I tell you the gr-r-eat battle of Waterloo: I tell you all about it. T tel! you the po~ seetion of the armies; I tell you every- thing.’’ The guide taps his nose with,an acute air. “I tell you things dose oder guides la-bas do not tell you, be-cause they do not know. Ver’ well.” ‘About this fight?’ suggests someone. “Now you listen, please. I gif you im- portant facts. I tell you the trut’. I tell you what I know. I gif you the whole trut’.”’ “Let her go, Gallagher.” comes from an impatient American. can’t stay here many years.” “Here (pointing with His big stick), here we get the twenty-two armee, where yor see the white coo that stand all alone by himself there. Good! That ts the cen- tair of the Anglish armee. Oblige me also by seeing that building there where my stick I point. Hup there they coom; hup come also the French armee...General Blucher he come up there.”’ “Who was Blukair?” asks a spectacled young lady. She is taking notes. “The German general.” “Oh (returning to her,note book), you The remark “We mean Bloosher. Go on.” “Here, where I point, you see laty and shent'eman.on bicy@lette, Is it mot? That is vhere splendid magneeficent sharge of what you call Scotch Gerys was made. It happen joost where, the laty and shen- tleman is descending from the bicyclette. As they sharge, as they sharge they cry (the guide waves his hat and shouts with excitement), they cry, ‘Scotchland for- ever!’ That's what they cry, ‘Scotchland forever!\ “Good old Scotland.” “IT tell you the trut’: The Scotch they take two French golors. Also here where I point you have the splendid sharge of the French Cuirassiers. That is so. There, vhere the woman is beating a gar- pet, there vas the depot of—listen, all of you—of the Anglish Life Guards.\\ The man falls back a few steps to watch his interested audience. ‘““The Anglish Life Guards. And now~your’ attention, s‘il vous plait.” 7 The guide steps forward and changes his voice to a whisper, as one about to give information to be gegarded to some extent confidential. ‘“yoil know, Sho’, eh? Sho’. him ver’ well, is it not?” “He means Shor,” explains the jovial youth. “Shor, the Life Guardsman.” “That's so. Sho’, the Life Guardsman. Ver’ good. He kills two, three, four men, Sho’ did, all by himself. My fasser he tell me ‘bout it; my fasser he live in Httle village over there, call Planchenoit. That is the name of it—Planchenoit. He tell me ’bout Sho’. Ver’ big man, he was, and I tell you he kill two, three, four, five, six men as easy as nothing. Now, please, listen when I tell you-——”’ “Say, now,” the American girl's father interrupts. ‘‘How: is it you Frenchmen blow like this ‘bout our soldiers, en? Don’t seém quite the right thing, does it?’’ Half the audience gays, shyly, ‘‘Hear! hear!” “What I mean to say is,\’ remarked the American girl's father, ‘‘it ain’t——’”’ “Pardon!” The guide draws himself up and taps himself on his waisicoat. “Pardon,” he says, proudly, ar Belge.”’ The guide goes on with his lecture, but for a few moments no one listens. Ev- eryone’s attention is fixed on 4 fight be- low. Outside the hotel two boys who sell sticks to the passengers to Waterloo have arrived by argument to a posttton where mere words no longer convey any mean- ing. Their coats are off. Their blue shirt sleeves are rolled up above elbows. Their cloth caps are thrown down in the dusty road. They dodge round each other and hop on, one foot. Then a smack. Another amack. A third’ smack; the sound of which comes up ‘here a little behindhand. | One of the boys is down in the road. Ex- cited girl selling views rushes to the-otd soldier on duty at the doorway leading You know am ance of the people. to the mount. Old séldter advanose slow- ere | ao ly, seizes an ear of each bey and pulls ‘t hard, ‘There where the two sheep is, Napo- leon he looked through his glass and he see Blucher, and he say to itself, “That's Grouchy,’ he say. But. (acutely) that’s no Grouchy, my friends; that's Blucher all the times. Over there (with sudden change of attitude), over there is where Marshal Ney. He call himself the bravest of the brahv’, Oh, it was a splendid fight, laties and shentiemen, It all happen on a Soonday—the eighteen of Shune, eight- een hoondred fifteen. I tell you the trut’. The Anglish call it Vaterloo; the French they call it Mont St. Jean——\ “Guess they ought to call it the great big wallop,” “And the Proosians they call it Belle Alliance, That's the trut’, sir. I tell you all I know. Over where | point now you seé, you seé the Maison Rouge, That is where Vellington he meet Blucher.”’ [There is a whispered colloquy between two youths in soft tweed hats, One asks anxiously whether the Maison Rouge isn’t the place where the girls dance, and the other answers, “No, stupid. That's ‘'n Paris; youymean the Moulin Rouge.’’} “At 8 o’clock'on the Soonday it was all over. All finish. All settle. Napoleon he say, ‘All is lose; save who can,’ and he go away, and Blucher he follow.” “No flies on old Blucher.”’ “T tell.you the trut’. If you ask of him, the mens down there in their tam uni- form’’—the guide allows his indignation to gét slightly the advantage of him-— “they tell you not so mooch, and they sharge you two franc. I sharge you nos- ing; but if-——”’ The fates are kind to the guide. The American girl with the smai! shoes takes per—brother’s-soft—hat and goes round, _ “ll trouble you for a trifle for the guide,’’ says she, witha winning smile. The guide gasps with joy as he watchs the American girl. When she drops the francs into his red pocket handkerchief he distributes his precious cards reck- fessly as though they were ordinary paste- board, and were made reckless donation to all comers, for he is already spe2a- lating on how he shall spend his newly- acquired wealth. “Well, now, we'll have to hustle,” says the American girl’s father. -“‘We'll jeat get down’as fast as we can and get back sharp to Brussels. We're due in Parrus, you see, tonight.'’—St. James Budget. WILL BE CROWNED MAY 26 HE The Czar Has the Fact Publicly Pro- claimed. Moscow, May 23.—The date of the coro- nation of the czar, May 26, was formally proclaimed by heralds at 9 o’clock this morning and the ceremony will be re- peated tomorrow and Monday. A strong detachment of cavalry surrounded the 2p- proaches to the Kremlin. The genera] commanding stood in the middle, facing the troops. Around him, wearing rich c9s- tumes, were the secretaries of state, sev- eral masters of the coronation ceremonies and heralds. At a given signal the heralds blew a loud blast on their trumpets, the people bowed their heads, and the secre- tary of state read the following proclama- tion: “Our. most august, most high and most mighty sovereign, having ascended ‘the hereditary throne of the empire of all the Russias and thé kingdom of Poland and grand duchy of Finland, which is insepar- able from it, had been pleased to orda-n, in imitation of all his predecessors and glorious ancestors, that the sacred sol- emnity.of the coronation and consecration of his imperial majesty, which his majesty wills his august consort shall share, do, by the grace of the Almighty take place on the 2th of May. By the present proc- lamation, therefore, this solemn act is an- nounced to al) the faithful subjects of his majesty to the end that on this auspicious day they may send up to the King of kings their most fervent prayers, and im- plore the Almighty to extend the favor of His blessing to the reign of his majesty, to the maintenance of peace and tranquility, to every great glory of His holy name and to the unchanging weal of the empire.’ Contes of the proclamation, printed on folio vellum, beautifully illuminated and adorned with the arms, monograms and insignia of the emperor, were scattered throughout the crowd. There was 4 wild scramble to obtain them. May 25 the ceremony of transferring the regalia to | the throne room of the Kremlin will take place and the same day their majesties will remove from Alexandrinsk palace to the grand Kremlin palace. A special mass will be held during the evening in all the churches. BUT ONE TREE HANDSHAKE That Is the Goga Old Style, Should Be Preserved. The new kind of hand shake, “in high seconde,” as the language of fencing goes, was, and perhaps is, popular with third- a cousin or an uncle who was @ colonel in a cusin or an uncle who was @ colonel in the army. These brainless beings, says the London Daily News, had probaaly heard that some prince or princess shook hands, in high seconde, perhaps because H. R. H. had hurt his royal arm, or for somé such blameless reason, This theory of the origin of the high crook is a mere conjecture, but surely no less potent cause could have brought in the custom of “rais- ing the hand above the shoulder.” of course, the custom has reached Americ, and being totally senseless in its inception, has been imitated by the citizefis. The gre- gariousness of human nature, its bovine imitativeness, has never been more oddly illustrated than by the transatlantic adop- tion of a second rate freak of British misses and British “Johnnies.” The fact illustrates the old anecdotes of How ruffs were universally worn because a royal person had a scar.on her neck. Westward the course of folly takes its way, for @ similar vagary of New York would not soon devastate this island. The old shake-hand is the only true shake-hand, and it ought to be studied and practiced, in all its delicacies, by the young man who would succeed in life. He must know how to be bluff and hearty; how to be caressing and insinuating, yet ‘not too bold,” and he. must never be lifeless and indifferent, for people resent this attitude. Probably Hazlitt was £0 much hated because to shake hands wi:h him was like .grasping a cold boiled flounder. and - ne Savannaah reports an increase in the receipts of rosin and spirits. ate
