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It was a dingy, uninviting place, but the centre of interest twice each day. This railroad station consisted of a narrow platform small house, where the station agent, telegraph operator and baggage master, ail in one, had his offices. Dust and sand lay all around. The long road twisted its way into town and contrasted un favorably with the straight, smooth, shining rails that led up and down from the platform, as true as an ar row, until they met in a tiny point, one where the sun rose everv morn ing. and the other just where it dropped beyond the horizon in a ball of fire each night. Once in a while the telegraph instru ment, half hidden behind the desk and a strong wire screen clicked hesi tatingly, and then ran on in n chatter ing sort of way that was friendly, even if one did not understand what it meant. Seated on the settee near the open door were two persons. One "'as a youth of perhaps 18 summers, tall for his age. and his face, neck and arms tanned to Indian hue. He was as strong as an ox in build. His head was crowned with a shock of sandy red hair, and his clothes were old and ragged. His face wore a placid ex pression except when he spoke; then his eyes brightened, and they grew as keen as a squirrel’s. He sat watching the ticker behind the wire screen, chewing a straw, while his companion, a girl of 16, looked from the open win dow up the track, expectantly. Soon there came to their ears the familiar sound that creeps along the rails, growing louder and louder until it beats a rhythm. It was the signal of the approaching train, and both arose and went out on the platform. The girl was well formed, but poorly clad; her face told a tale of hardships and suffering, yet the features were good. The engine passed with steam es caping and brakes grinding, and at last stopped short just beyond the roadway, puffing r.s though exhausted with its long run. It was a good sized train, composed of freight and passen ger coaches. Toward the latter the youth and girl made their way. “Do yer see him?” asked the girl, and the hand that held her brother’s trembled. “No, I don’t an’ I won't believe in him till I do. either,” he replied. There were but few that alighted ‘rom the train. One was a stranger, t was easy to discern by his eastern appearance. Three or four were citi zens returning from a trip to the next own 40 miles up the line. There was mother, and on one at first seemed to notice him. He was not exactly a tranger, if appearances counted for mythlng. His manner was peculiar, lis whole make-up was shifty. His yes were restless and his gait was mlting. He glanced from left to right, hitting his gaze quickly from one to nother, as though trying to fathom ust how far he might walk down that latform without being stopped. It vas plain to see that he was anxious o get away from the crowd. The girl saw him first, and broke rom her companion with a glad cry. •he went straight up to the stranger, nd placed her hand gently on his rm. “Is this dad?” she said. He started like a frightened animal, lis grizzled face turned paie for a mo nent, then he found his voice. “Reckon ’tis. Is this sis?” The voice was not unkindly, and for nßwer the girl slipped her hand into (is, and turned to find her brother, le was standing just behind, silent nd steady, watching the pair. “Dork,” she exclaimed, “this is dad. Vhy don’t yer shake?” Dork, or Dorsie. shoved a big brown aw toward his father. It went out rankly, but his keen eye was search tg the other through and through, 'he elder man’s eyes took on that pe uliar look again, and his hand was ffered hesitatingly. This seemed to ettle Dork, for he blurted out, “Why don’t yer grip it? What yer 'raid uf?“ The new comer’s face flushed scar et, but he made no reply to the ques lon. The girl led the way to the rear of he station, where a pony was attached o a dilapidated wagon. The drive ome Avas uninteresting. It was pret y straight until you came to tile iver. then it wound around, and made or fhe town in zigzag fashion; be ond the town were the foot hills of he towering range which seemed so ear. yet were miles and mi’es away. They stopped before rv rude shack, lot many of the houses in the vicinity 'ere what one would call comfortable, ut this was perhaps the least so of ny. The girl sprang lightly to the round. Dorsie was already unhitch tg the mare. Just as the elder man as about to alight there came a pat er of hoofs, and around the bend in he road came a horseman. He would ave gone by Aithout stopping had ot the girl, who was truly happy in he return of her father, called out s she pointed to the wagon, “Bill, that’s dad. He’s jes’ come, ome in an" I’l! interduce yer.” , Bill pulled up short and half bowed i token of the invitation: then he arked himself up in the saddle, and a ook came over his countenance that vasn’t pleasant to witness. “Oh. it’s you. is It? So you’ve come ack? Well, keep with them children, het s all. an’ yer safe.” And away he rode as if Satan was after him. The girl looked surprised and curi- ? ua - Dorsie said nothing, but hustled AN INCIDENT. BT tIKOROE WESTON TOWNSEND. I the maze into the stable quicker than was necessary. At supper the new comer was as ill at ease as ever. He played nervous ly with his food. The girl carried on a conversation concerning incidents long since passed. Dorsie ate in si lence. bv.t when she reached a certain point In ber talk, both her listeners showed some fasten ct. "Ma sed jes' 'foie rlh- died,” and here her voice trembled, “thet of yer rhud ever come aroun'. ter give yer her part of ther money. She was fair, she was. It's quite er oile fur us— mor n SBO. Sh sed. she did. thet Dor sie was ter hav’ S2O. an’ me, bein’ a gurl an alone, ter hav’ SSO, an' fer yer to hav’ what was left. We’ve allers kept it tight ‘n under ther chimley shelf, jest waitin’ fer ver cornin’, fer ma sed you'd be back some day, sure. We used $2 onct. Was hard pushed, warn't we. Dorsie?” Dorsie nodded, but his keen eyes were watching his father. The father spoke, and it seemed an effort to speak steadily. 'Tve gut nuff fer me. Youse can keep it in thet ther chimley. 1 don't want it.” The girl was silent. Perha;,3 she cared less for the money, although it was needed, than for one little word, some little show of interest from this man whom they welcomed home as father, in her and her departed mother. Surely he would ask some questions about her last illness —bow they managed to live, and the priva tions they had gone through with. Disappointment was plainly written on her face as she arose from the table, crossed the room and from a shelf took down a faded photograph. She mechanically brushed it with her apron and placed it before the man. “She had thet there taken nigh on ter three years ago. It’s purty good, only she looked allers more pleasant. She was cheerful —and good, too.” Dorsie gave a furtive glance at his sister and saw that her eyes were swimming with tears. He never could talk or boar to hear her talk of their mother. The father shuffled his feet on the uneven floor, carelessly glanced at the photograph, and say ing he would take a look about, slouched out at the open door. When Dorsie returned some time afterward, he found his sister at the table, her head on her arms, crying as if her heart would break. Dorsie felt badly enough, but when it came to ex pressing himself, he simply could not do it. so he started for the door. Then he hesitated, turned and looked at the forlorn figure and went silently over to her, placing a big brown hand on her shoulder. He stood there until her sobs subsided, then he spoke. “It’s tough, sis. He’s a poor un. an’ I hope he won’t, stay here. I can’t breathe when he’s in ther same room with us.” He stopped and. looked around the cabin undecidedly. He wanted to say more to comfort her, but he’d said considerable for him. He waited. She lifted her wet face to his. “Oh, Dork, ef he’d only sed jes’ one leetle word ’bout ma—jes’ a leetle somethin’ kind —it would seem easier. But he’s so hard, and he looks so orful.” And she hid her face again and sobbed aloud. She must have dropped into a weary sleep, for an hour after she still sat with her arms on the table, her head, Avith its tangle of brown hair, resting upon them The shadows were deep ening, and just as the moon was rising above the sandy stretch that lay in front of the doorway, a man stealthily crept through the open door, crossed the creaking floor, and approached the mantel shelf. A muttered oath, fol loAved by a half stifled cry of exulta tion, then something was knocked from the shelf and fell to the floor with a crash. The girl jumped up quickly, just as the moonlight flooded the dingy room. She was half afraid, then as she saw who the intruder was, and that he was looking at the photograph of her de parted mother, she forgot her sorrow. Her father was forgiven. He left the house soon after, and she stood at the doorway, watching him go down the road with a happy smile. Why should she know that he was heading for the nearest tavern. He had been warned to keep aAvay from this town, but he had something now in his ragged shirt that he kneAv Avell would guard him against any serious deten tion, beside giving to him the amuse ment he craved. When Dorsie came home he found the girl troubled. “Dork, thet ther money behind ther shelf has gone. Jes’ mist it as I was a goin’ ter count out dad’s part. He’s been here, an’ I was asleep, an’ when I woke up he was a ’stallin’ by ma’s pictur, alookin’ at it, an’ I guess he felt purty bad, too.” Dorsie’s face grew dark. “Which way d’he go, sis?” “Down ther road ter town.” Dorsie ripped out an oath, and went through the doorway like an unbridled colt. He knew just where to go, and when he burst into the crowd at Mealey’s place, where the toughest element for miles around congregated every night, he saw his father sitting at one side of the card table, steadily dealing the pack; the uneasy and shifting manner was gone. Evidently this was his element. He tvas per fectly at home. Dorsie pushed his way into the crowd, elbowing the boys right and left until he reached the centre, and when the gambler glanced up from THE WEEKLY NEWS, CARTERSVILLE, QA. th game it was to look into a well aimed revolver and see behind its steady barrel the flashing eyes full of hatred. "Toss up thet there cash, ther whul 1 eighty, and be quick, too!” It was a tight box for the gambler, for anyone could see that Dorsie meant business. All his life this man had gambled, and it was no new thing for him to be in a place where he must lose everything just because some one had the upper hand. So it was with a smooth tone and with an expression of injured innocence that he met the conditions. “Why, Dork, what’s ther matter? I’ve gut no money ’cept what’s mine, and I 'low you'll let me hav’ thet. What’s up, anyhow?” The calm voice, the injured air, had its effect, and ere Dorsie could wink there was a flash of light straight at his breast, the whole room swam around, the lights grew dim. and the great confusion in the room seemed to subside as he felt himself sinking away, just as though he was going to sleep. In those days a man had to act ; quickly. By being always ready it soon became a sort of second nature to act on the slightest impulse, and so, when the shot had been fired there was instant confusion, and the gam bler went out of a back window and was astride a fast horse and a good distance lip the road before “the crowd” Avere half aware of it. Still, as quick as he was, the boys never allowed the grass to grow under their feet on an occasion like this. It was a good three miles to the station, and it was almost train time. Both pursued and pursuers knew this, and it was the train or nothing for the fleeing man. It would be useless to make any stand, or try to evade his followers in this open country, but if he could catch the train as it rolled out of the station, he was safe. As though to spur them to greater exertions, they could hear the locomo tive’s shrill whistle as it neared the town. It was dark, with the moon hidden behind the clouds so it would be a comparatively easy matter for a man to throw himself from his horse and upon the outward moving train, and get away without a bullet in him, if —well, of course there was always an “if” to be considered in such cases. There was no shouting, no unneces sary noise, nothing but the quick hoof beats and the breathing of the horses as the boys rushed along in pursuit, but every man had his eyes on that dark object flying in advance, and every man knew what would happen even if the fugitive reached the train ere they did. The train wan just gathering head way as the runaway turned the sharp turn at the station and his horse’s hoofs plowed into the sand and dust. He slid so aeftlv and easily from his plunging mare that the pursuers could with difficulty make him out against the t'-ain’s dark background. In a moment more he would reach the middle coach. He dared not wait for the last one. as the train’s speed was increasing uncomfortably now. He reached out his arm, his ragged and torn shirt sleeve showing dimly against the coach. Perhaps he stum bled —one never can tell what occurs at such times —but simultaneously there were two distinct and sharp re ports, and the gambler had played his last card. The tra ! n never stormed. It wasn’t worth '-bile. The boys gathered around the huddled up heap in the centre of the track as the signal lights on the rear car were disappearing in the distance. One stooped in a busi ness-like way and fumbled among the torn shreds of clothing and recovered what remained of the stolen fund. Then the boys held a little conference. Sis was bending over the cot where on lay Dorsie stretched at full length. The boys had just pulled up at the door. Quietly they gathe-ed about the doctor. “Oh. he’ll pull through, but it’s a mighty close shave.” Then the leader went up to sis. His rough features looked less hard than usual and hi keen eyes glistened. “Sis,” he said. “Here’s yer money. He’s gone ter parts unknown, an’ won’t be back right away, either, so don’t yer worry. We’ll settle with the doc.” He dropped into her b~own palm a wad of bills that must have counted out pretty rich. The boys never did things by halves. —W aver ley Maga zine. Fontjht Himself in His Sleep. Lee Moser was an amazed young man when he awoke from slumber one morning recently. He was momenta rily not altogether certain of his own identity. His head felt big. Blood covered his face. One of his teeth was gone. What did it mean? Then it dawned upon his mind that he had been giving a fellow a severe thrash ing in his dreams during the night. Everything corresponded exactly ex cept his recollection of his opponent, who, he had dreamed, was some one else beside himself. But in reality he had been fighting himself. His better self must have fallen into conflict with his worser self. It was a sort of Mr. Hyde and Dr. Jekyll case. He had a vivid recollection of striking his op ponent (himself) some very severe blows about the head and face. And he remembered, too, that he had knocked a tooth out, but he thought it was the other fellow r ’s tooth. He is thinking seriously now of placing a bodyguard around his bed at night, hereafter, as he does not wish to do himself any more bodily harm. —Un- iontown (Penn.) Genius. Among the figures returned for cities from the Italian census taken recently, are Rome, 502,000; Florence, 190,000; Venice, 151,000; and Bologna, I 152,000. JSpSiul™ Slumber Street. Oil! miles and miles of beds in a row, Acres of coverlets Avhite as snow, Pillows and pillows, and sheets galore, Blankets and quilts by the hundred store— All! these are the sights that each night greet The children who go to Slumber Street. Hush-a-byes, hush-a-byes, soft and low; Rhythmical murmurs, both fast and slow; Ditties and hyntn tunes, and ballads rare; Melodies gay, and with plaintive air; Lullabies tender and soft and sweet — This is the music of Slumber Street. Visions delightful, happy and gay. Of wonderful toys and merry play; Fanciful pictures of rare delight, Of verdant fields and skies that are bright— Oh! these are the dreams the children meet Who travel each night to Slumber Street. Oh! scores upon scores of weary heads Peacefully resting in miles of beds! Each pair of eyelids is closed tip tight, And each pair of eyes is hid from sight, Resting bodies and tired little feet— This is the business of Slumber Street. —Arthur J. Burdick. A Dor That Answers Fire Call^. The city of Lexington, Ky.. has a fire dog that ans Avers to the name of “Nice.” For three years Nice has not missed attendance at a fire and he can always be counted upon to run yelping down the street ahead of the clattering engines. Of course he adds greatly to the excitement of the occa sion. Nice tvas taken in by the fire men several years ago when he came begging at the engine-house door for a morsel of food. He was a tramp dog then, but he is sleek and fat now, for he has the best of living. When the telephone bell rings Nice pricks up his ears and awaits the announce ment of the alarm tender. His ear is so well trained that he can tell by the tender’s words whether it is an alarm or not. If it is an alarm he rushes toward the doors and as soon as they are opened goes yelping down the street. The Lexington firemen would not accept anything in trade for Nice. A Pound of Feathers. A famous old catch-question for un wary boys is. “Which is heavier, a pound of feathers of a pound of lead?” Of course the unwary boys answer, “A pound of lead.” and then everybody laughs, for how can a pound of one thing be heavier than a pound of some other thing? But the people that do the laughing are just as much in error as the boys are. only it is the other way about, for a pound of feathers is, as a matter of fact,. heavier than a pound of lead. Here is the way to demonstrate it. With perfectly accurate scale=. weigh a pound of lead, using ordinary shot for convenience. With the same scales Aveigh a pound of feathers, putting them in a muslin bag for the purpose, and being very careful that the bag and the feathers together weigh exact ly one pound. Place the shot in one pan of a bal ance, and the baa of feathers in the other, and they will presently come to an exact le\ r el. Thus it seems that they weigh exactly the same. But a different state of things is shoAvn if the balance, with the shot and the feath ers undisturbed, be placed on the re ceiver of an air-pump and covered with the glass bell-jar. When the air has been exhausted the feathers will sink, and the shot will go up, thus shoAving that the feathers are the heavier. The explanation is that no account has been taken of the buoyant power of the air. which bears everything up in proportion to the thing’s bulk. As the bag of feathers is of greater bulk than the shot, it is supported by the air to a greater extent than the shot, and it, therefore, takes more than a pound of feathers to balance a pound of lead. In the air-pump, how ever, there is no such support, and the difference is at once apparent. The Kijjht Kind of a Boy. The other morning Are were in the midst of a three days’ rain. The fire smoked, the dining-room was chilly, and, Avhen we assembled for break fast. pana looked rather grim, and mamma tired; for the babv had been restless all night. Polly was plainly inclined to fretfulness, and Bridget was undeniably cross, when Jack came in with the breakfast rolls from the baker’s. He had taken off his rubber coat and boots in the entry, and he came in rosy and smiling. “Here’s the paper, sir.” said he to his father, with such a cheerful tone that his father’s brow relaxed; and he said, “Ah. Jack, thank you,” quite pleasantly. His mother looked up at him smil ing, and he just touched her cheek gently as he passed. “Top of the morning to you, Polly wog,” he said to his little sister, and delivered the rolls to Bridget, with a “Here you are, Bridget. Aren’t you sorry you didn’t go yourself this beau tiful day?” He gave the fire a poke and opened a damper. The smoke ceased, and presently the coals began to glow; and five minutes afte*- Jack came in we gathered around the table, and were eating our oatmpal as cheerily as possible. This seems A'erv simple in the telling, and Jack never knew he had done anything at all; but he had, in fact, changed the whole moral atmosphere of the room, and had started a gloomy day pleasantly for five people. “He is always so, ’ said his mother, when I spoke to her about it after ward, “just so sunny and kind and ready all the time. I suppose there are more brilliant boys in the world than mine, but none with a kinder heart or a sweeter temper, I am sure of that.” —Our Dumb Animals. Mack llttwk mid thi young Lieutenant. Black Hawk was an Indian chief, ruler of the Sacs and Foxes who ln-ed in the nortlnvestern part of Illinois many years ago. In 1832 Black Hawk led his tribe in war against the white settlers to resist the attempt of the United States government to move his people to a reservation west of the Mississippi river. The United States sent many soldiers into Illinois to overcome the red men and several bat tles were fought. Among the soldiers from Illinois was a young man over six feet tall and as awkward as he was tall. He was Abraham Lincoln, afterward president of the United States. In the forces of the white men was a young lieutenant from the state of Mississippi. He was only 23 years old, but was bright and alert. No sooner had the old chief. Black Hawk, seen this young officer than he took a decided liking to him and the lieutenant also rejoiced in the friend ship of the Indian. Black Hawk was captured and taken to Washington to be shown the strength of the Avhite men and later was sent back to his people, who had been removed to the reservation prepared for them. The friendship between the old chief and the young lieutenant continued through all these trials until Black Hawk died. That young lieutenant was Jefferson Davis, afterward president of the gov ernment formed by the seceding southern states. Tlie Family That Kissed a Coat. She was the most winsome little lassie, and she lived in a tiny vil lage in the very heart of the Blue Ridge. The sunshine had crept into the dancing brown curls on her head, and had lingered there. Her eyes re flected the blue of the tender skies that bent above her. It was such an event in her life to go with auntie to the big, far-away city. There were so many wonderful things that her litUe country-bred eyes bad never seen. And oh, the letter that she wrote home! Elizabeth's family tvere so impa tient that morning for little black Mo zell to return fmm the village post office! They kneAv the letter would be' there, fer Elizabeth had promised. Elizabeth's father, the village doc tor. walked back and forth the length of the sitting room; her big sister had a sewing girl waiting for her in the sewing room; her mother —but moth ers always have their hands full; even her big brother put down his neAvspaper. looked from the window, and said he must be going; but he did not budge. Wasn’t it strange that the letter of such a tiny girl could hold them there? Wasn’t it strange that not one of them acknowledged to another why he stayed? When little Mozell came run ning in, bringing the papers and let ters, they all drew a little nearer to Elizabeth’s mamma. It was a sweet letter, that told of a little girl's joy at her first peep at the great world. There were loving messages to her home people, and it ended, “and kiss the cow.” “What a child!” her father said, picking up the letter that had been written with such care. “What a baby!” her brother said. “To think of kissing beauty!” said the big sister, as she swept from the room. But her mother said softly. “The dear child!” And then they separated, going to their delayed work. Out in the meadow, Beauty looked up from the tender grass she was chopping, to find the doctor standing near her. “I don’t like to do it.” he muttered, “but ” He stooped ov-er and laid his mustached lips on Beauty’s pol ished horn. He chose the horn be cause it looked so clean. Not many minutes later a young man came hurriedly through the gate, casting many looks behind to be sure he was unobserved. “Kwe!” but he planted a gingerly kiss on Beauty’s back and beat a re treat. It was some hours later Avhen the big sister slipped out to the meadow, gave Beauty a hurried kiss, and ran back. When Elizabeth’s mamma canto out to give Beauty a kiss, she threw her arms about her neck and kissed her right on the forehead; and tAvo great tears rolled down her cheeks —her dear little girl was so far away! It isn’t en ’•ecord, but Beauty must have wondered why the family had suddenly groAvn so affectionate, for at milking time they all, on one excuse or another, came to the ntilkingbars. The little colored girl stood at Beauty’s head, thinking of the mes sage she had heard in the morning, and when the cow lifted her head and looked around on them with mildly wondering eyes, she kissed her right on her mealy nose. “Child,” Elizabeth's mother asked, “what are you doing?" She said kiss her. an’ I jes’ natcnal ly knows white folks wouldn’t kiss a cow," the little negress said. Elizabeth’s family looked a each other guiltily, and then how they laughed!—Youth’s Companion. ' ' Usually tlie Chao. Little Waldo—Papa, what is a li brary? Mr. Reeder—A library, my son. is a large number of books which a man loans to friends.—Harper’s Bazar. SCIENCE AND INDUSTRY In 1889 the production of aluminum In the United States Avas about •>•> tons and in other countries 71 toi T' while in 1900 the United States Jnl dueed about 4000 tons and other countries about 7500. Conner tele graph and telephone wires must ho twice as heavy as aluminum border to do the same work, and 6000 tons of aluminum used for sheathing o- roofs will replace 20,000 tons of coupe?, A successful experiment in the use of single lines for simultaneous tele graphing and telephoning is reported from Berlin. The system is employed by the fire brigade of that city. Each fire-cart is provided with a portable telephone apparatus which can be at tached to the alarm pillars in various parts of tho city, and ooeraed with the same Avires employed for tele, graphing. Experience has that the switching in of the telephone > u no way influences the telegraph ser vice. During simultaneous telegraph ing and telephoning a slight knocking is perceptible in the telephone, h,, r the noise is not sufficient to destroy the audibility of the messages. In, the island of Cyprus is a basin cut off from the sea, although sunk slightly below sea-level, which con tains a salt lake from which a con siderable harvest of salt is annually obtained in August, when the fierce summer heat dries up the water, c. V. Bellamy, who recently visited the lake called. thinks sea-Abater percolates through the rocks into the basin, thus supplying the salt. A single heavy rain In midsummer has sometimes sufficed to ruin the salt crop, and the Cyprians, in orde- to protect the valuable lake as much as possible, have constructed channels to carry off the flood water of ra’ns from the slopes of the basin into the soa. Anew machine has been devised that will utilize in fabrics the flax waste that has been formerly sold for the manufacture of naner. Henry W. Wing is the inventor, and he has taken the device to Bradford. Eng land. where most of the flax is spun. Since the installation of the machine at Bradford it has been discovered that the appliance was equally useful in spinning asbestos and peat moss, or in fact, any other substance that has sufficient staple to hold in the form of a textile. The work of the machine is so carefully and excellently done that it is almost impossible to tell what the original material was that has been spun into the fabric. Just what commercial name will be given to the spun flax waste or what it will be used for has not been de termined, but doubtless it will be found available for many purposes that reo.uire a coarse, bard fabric. Avery peculiar bridge is being con structed over the Mary river, at Mary borough, Queensland, in that it is be ing designed so that its surface will be submerged several times during the year at the seasons of high floods. The idea in building the bridge in this way is to save the material that would be required to build it 'Sufficient ly high to escape submersion at high water. The country on the banks of the Mary river lies so low that the ap proaches would have to be extraordi narily long to be entirely out of the water during floods, and this would have involved an immense expense, so that if was decided to disregard the floods, and build the bridge for use during low water, and employ boats during the comparatively short time that the water would cover the bridge. The bridge will clear by 12 feet and six inches at ordinary high water. The highest flood level is 33 feet, so that at times the bridge will be submerged more than 20 feet. Our New Coast- DeSonre Plant. The United States will shortly pos sess a plant capable of turning out for coast fortifications, and complete in every detail, the world-famed Grusou turret. Not only is the plant assured, but work has actually commenced on the erection of the necessary build ings. and to such an extent have the plans progressed that the casting of the plates for the initial turret could, if required, be commenced in six months’ hence. The raison d’etre of the new indus try is primarily the recommendation of the Endicott board of ordnance and fortifications, calling for emplace ments for 22 turrets at coast points of the United States; but in the main the new plant owes its being to the conditions which confronted this coun try on the b-eaking out of war with Spain in 1898. and to existing condi tions which make imperative the adoption of a system impregnable to gun attack. The new organization is called the Gruson Iron Works, and will carry on the manufacture of all descriptions of chilled iron-work and heavy castings requiring special strength and resis tance for naval and marine work. The interests associated with the hew company inc-lude the largest man ufacturers of chilled iron in AmericP and the works will be equipped with everything requisite for the manufac ture of the largest chilled castings to which the particular plant for fin ishing Gruson turrets can be quick ly added. The site for the new works is on the banks of the Delaware at the little town of Eddvstone, and distant only a few miles from the citv of Chester, Penn. This site was select ed largely because of its tide-water facilities, and with special reference to the needs which must arise incident to the shipment of heavy turret equip ment. —Harper’s Weekly.