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10 THE YOUNG SOUTHERNER The Spirit of Silence. Oft from a suffering world do I conceal The blasting woe and disappointment keen Os some proud soul that refuge seeks in me. My soothing mantle o’er the earth I .spread And sweet repose supplants all tumult dread. The raging storm-king yields at length to me And crashing thunders cease to ’fright the world. On lips that fain would speak cold, cruel words That pierce the heart like arrows made of ice, I lay my magic wand and speech is stayed, In Heaven I reigned for one brief space, and saints In wonder held their golden harps all mute And hushed in awe their anthem of loud praise. But yet the moaning sea yields not to me, — Type of some sinning soul torn by remorse, — Its restless waves resist my restful touch, And cry alway unto the patient shore. L. T. 11. The publication of a magazine in the new Es peranto language is being contemplated by the Am erican Esperanto Association. Os course the pub lication of such a periodical would be a help to those interested in the study of the language as it is proposed to have the magazine printed in both Esperanto and English and thus the student will find help in his translations. Esperantists seem to be rapidly increasing in number in the United States as well as in England, Germany and France, and interest in the new lan guage is steadily growing. Many of the leading colleges, including Harvard University, it is said, have classes for the study of Esperanto. It may be that the time for the adoption of a great universal language is close at hand. The simplicity of Esperanto makes the plan for the adoption of an international language seem feasi ble. For young people (and older ones, too, for that matter) who like to learn something new that is easily acquired, the study of Esperanto presents a fascinating opportunity. It might be interesting for our young people to form clubs among themselves for the study of the language during the coming long winter evenings. With Correspondents. Dear Editor: You asked the boys and girls to tell in the Young Southerner of some of the great men of the dif ferent states. I am a Kentuckian and am proud of my native state, though I do not now live there. I will tell you of one of her great sons, after whom I am named. Albert Sidney Johnston was born in Kentucky and was educated in that state and at West Point. He was a great man and a brave sol dier and gave up his life on the battlefield in de fense of the Confederacy. But long before that he had won distinction by service in the army of the United States. At the commencement of the Civil War he was in command of the Pacific, but resigned his posi tion to join the Confederate army, as his sympa thies were with his native state. History describes a gallant charge that General Johnston led at the battle of Shiloh. “At this time,” it says, “General Johnston rode forward and called on the men to follow. In the scene his grand figure seemed to expand to gigantic proportions; he was mastered by excitement and in his eagerness forgetting formal orders, he beckoned his men on to the charge. The gallant Kentuckians were the first to follow. Tennesseeans, Missippians and Ar kansans caught the heroic contagion; and now the line moved steadily forward at double-quick, and then, with a wild rush, receiving the deadly iron blast as it swept along the slopes, and pouring over the batteries they scattered the heavy masses of the infantry in the wildest confusion, This was Conducted by Louise Three te Hodges. the mightiest effort of force and courage of the day. ’ ’ Later in the battle General Johnston received a wound from which he soon bled to death. Your true friend, Albert Sidney Blackman. Dear Mrs. Hodges: I like the letters is the Young Southerner so much and have been thinking for some time that I would write one myself, but was afraid I might not write anything good enough to publish. I live in a small town and don’t have much to write about. I have several very good friends and we have nice times together. We often spend the day with each other. We were all in the same class at school and we talk about our studies, read the same books and take music lessons from the same teacher. They are all good girls and we never have any quarrels. I hope we shall all grow up to be good, intelligent women and always be good friends. I hope to see my letter in the paper and I think my friends will write. Yours truly, Agnes Belle Winthrop. Circumstantial Evidence. The little one chanced to sit near a plate con taining apple parings. After a long wait, during which no offer was made of hospitality, the child finally blurted out, “I smell apples.” “Yes,” responded the lady of the house, “you smell those parings.” “No, ma’am,” was the solemn reply of the youngster, “I smell whole apples.”—Philadelphia Ledger. Peculiarity of Language. A boy who swims may say he’s swum; but milk that is skimmed is seldom skum, and nails you trim, they are not trum. When.words yon speak, those words are spoken; but a nose is tweaked and can’t be twoken, and what you seek is never soken. If we forget, then we’ve forgotten; but things we wet are never wotten, and houses let cannot be lotten. The goods one sells are always sold; but fears dis pelled are not dispold, and what you smell is never smoled. When juvenile, a top you spun, but did you see a grin e’er grim, or a potato nearly skun? —The Technical World. Do You Have a Good Time With Yourself? An earnest teacher was talking with one of her class of young women who, by reason of the cir cumstances of her life, was much alone. The girl was speaking of this, and the teacher looked kindly into her eyes and asked: “Well, do you have a good time with Helen?” A look of comprehension dawned upon the girl’s face. “I am afraid I don’t enjoy her company very much,” she answered. “Helen has away of taking me trips to the valley of humiliation.” “Yes, but after all you must see to it that yon have a good time with Helen,” was the gentle an swer, and no more was said. But the thought of this perpetual companionship with one’s self, was a great stimulus to that young woman to make better company of herself. So should it be with us all. Here is an unceas ing association, inevitable as it is unending. We can more easily escape our shadows than our own personalities. There are few who are not some times alone, and many who must be much alone. However this is, the companionship of self is con tinuous; and if silence and solitude be dreaded be cause of realization of the company we keen when alone, then life is indeed a burden. Satisfied we never should be and cannot well be; but there should be and may he such high ideals, such earnest L. T. H. The Golden Age for August 16, 1906. strivings, such measure of progress, such matter for meditation, such cause for gratitude, that “Helen may have a good time with Helen” in spite of all drawbacks. And no one else on earth can secure this but Helen herself.—Young People. A Bright Boy. A telegraph messenger boy, Charles F. Fielding, living at Newport, R. 1., recently rigged up a wire less telegraph instrument of his own, in his father’s attic, with an old automobile coil, a cut-off electric light lamp, some acid and a Morse sending key. With this simple contrivance he was able to send messages which completely interfered with the workings of elaborate apparatus of the United States Government, and made it impossible to send messages from a distance at the torpedo station. The bov attracted the attention of the command ant of the station and has been enlisted in Govern ment serivce as third-class electrician, which will enable him to take a thorough course in electricity at the Government school, while he draws $35 a month besides ]fis board. Before that he was get ting sl4 a month and board at home. ’Rah for the boy!—The American Boy. A Terror For Birds at Night. Though everyone in Washington is acquainted with the monument, by sight at least, few are aware that the stately shaft causes the death of thousands of birds every fall as they migrate southward for the winter. The birds fly by night against the shaft in great numbers, and are killed or stunned, when they drop to the ground, where they are found always on the north side of the structure. In order to realize the mortality thus caused among the feathered tribe, it may be stated that one man in the city secured over four hundred dead birds in one night. As the birds thus secured include a number of wild ducks and other game birds, it is not unusual for persons to stay around the monument all night during the migrating season. In addition to these food-seekers there are the ornithologists from the Smithsonian Institution, notably Messrs. Palmer and Woods, who come to secure specimens. Then there are the cats which gather in considerable numbers, and whose nocturnal sight and quick movements enable them to seize a bird almost the instant it falls to the ground, and make off with their prey. “The variety in species of the birds that are found around the monument is surprising,” observed a man who has on several occasions waited around the monument of nights in order to secure specimens for purposes of mounting them. “There is, for instance, the beautiful bluebird whose color is as delicate as that of a flower, with which most persons in this city are totally unacquainted. This bird, with others of fine plumage which are to be found in our vicinity, is timid and retiring, while the sparrow, the yellow-breasted warbler, and the catbird are prominently seen. A considerable pro portion of the monument’s victims are swallows, these birds flying close together. A large number, too, are ‘birds of passage,’ merely flying through Washington from far-removed localities on their way South. The birds seem to bp attracted in some strange way by the g'hostly-looking shaft. Perhaps they imagine it is an opening instead of a barrier, or it may be that lighter than the sur rounding night atmosphere tempts them. All down the river the lighthouses offer obstacles. or rather, attractions, to these migrating birds, many thousands of which ore destr ova rl every season in this way.”—The Washington Post. It is not generally known that ca*s die in high altitudes or else go mad. Tn Leadville, Colorado, a ctiy built in an altitude of over ten thousand feet, there is not a single cat. while even in Denver, at half the height of Leadville, cats are few and those found are highly nervous, and sensitive.