Newspaper Page Text
MRS. GARY AN’S BABY.
Young Chester, coming into the El
mira station, with an excited look on
his face and a sprinkling of dust on
:11s podsbed snoes and neat eiothes.
walked ov r to the seat where he had
left his valise. He had not the air of
complacency proper to a student
whose vacation had just begun after
ten successful months in college.
Chester had seated himself, drawn
his handkerchief twice across his
forehead, and looked at the clock be
fore ce observed t:ie back of a young
man seated reading a paper under one
of the lights. This young man seemed
.r eply mtei-sted in his paper; but
Cheater addressed him without cere
mony.
‘•Hullo, there, Wainwright!” said he.
"Thought you were home long ago.
What are you doing here?”
Wainwright raised liis eyes, turned
his head, dropped his paper, and came
across the floor to his friend.
•‘Well, I’ll be shot!" he exclaimed.
I didn’t think I should meet any of
you fellows here. I did leave early this
morning, but a wreck delayed us four
hours. So I'm about as well oft as if I
had waited for you. Did you just get
in?”
"Oh, no," said Chester, glancing at
the clock. “I got here at eight-ten, and
It's almost nine now. Didn't see you
around here then.”
"No, I took a walk up the street.”
“So did I. And thereby hangs a
tale. Haven’t you noticed my wild ap
pearance?”
“Now that you mention it,” said
Wainwright, “you do look as if some
thing was wrong.”
T went out to take a stroll.” said
Chester, taking off his straw hat and
running his hand through his hair.
And as I was going up one of those
abounding side streets, I was attacked
by footpads ”
“What? Footpads in Elmira? How
many?”
“Three. Two were perhaps 18 years
old. and the other 13 or 14.”
“Pshaw, boys! What did they
va nt?”
"Very determined boys,, I can tell
you,” said Chester. “They wanted
money. If I didn’t happen to have any
they wanted my ‘ticker.’ 1 happened
to have use for both articles, and so
1 had to fight for them. The bigger
fellows were easily knocked out. but
ihe youngest clung to me. tearing and
cursing and kicking. I wanted to
bring the business to an end. I threw
him back very forcibly. It wasn’t un
til he fell that 1 saw how really small
-and young he was.”
“So you came out ahead?” said
Wainwright. “But where were the
police? Of course, though, you didn’t
want to be detained here a day or
two as a witness. Could you identify
Them ?”
"1 know they were ‘toughs.’ but
that’s all. I heard one of them, call
another Garvan.”
“Garvan!” explaimed Wainwright.
“Hold on a minute. Did the smallest
one have, short trousers and curly
hair and blue eyes?”
"He certainly had short trousers,”
said Chester, “aud I think his eyes
were blue, and his hair might have
curled, for all I know. But it was all
jammed under a soft cap pulled over
his eyes.”
“1 think,” said Wainwright, “that I
know who he was—he was Mrs. Gar
van’s Baby.”
"Mrs. Garvan’s baby!” ejaculated
Chester. “Well, 1 must say he’s a
•charming infant! But what do you
call him Baby for? He’s no baby, I
can assure you.”
"He is to her,” Wainwright said.
And I happen to know his whole his
tory. Yes, he has a history, and I
will just have time to give it to you.
My train leaves at 9.”
"You have 10 minutes,” said Ches
ter. “Fire ahead. Is he one of your
Corning friends?”
“He belongs in Corning, though I’ve
never spoken to him. I think. Some
years ago 1 used to see in Corning a
small, curly headed boy, very bright,
and well liked by all who knew him.
It was Ms. Garvan’s Baby. She al
ways called him Baby because he was
her youngest. His father worked on
the railroad, and they were so poor
that when the boy had gone to school
a fdw years they let him work one
summer iu the factory. He wanted to
go, and they thought it would keep
him off the streets.
“But soon the Baby began to grow
’tough,* and in a year he was a thor
oughly bad boy. In the daytime he
worked, and at night he was on the
streets. He learned all the bad things
that the streets of a town at night
could teach him.
“He smoked, chewed and even
drank sometimes. He began to stay
away from home for weeks at a time.
But he always came back until the
day, about a year ago, when his fa
ther found him drunk on the streets,
•and horsewhipped him severely. The
Baby has never been home since.”
Chester whistled softly.
"That isn't the worst part of it,”
Wainwright went on. “The same
week that the boy ran away the fa
ther was killed on the railroad. The
two shocks crazed Mrs. Garvan a lit
tle, and she has never been the same
since. The people around where she
lives take car? of her. But at uight
she roams the streets and goes into
all the stores and 'kaloons and asks
the people if they have seen her
Baby.”
“Poor woman!” said Chester.
“Yes, and when they tell her they
don’t know, she only says, ‘lf you see
him will you tell him, please, that
his mother wants him?’ That’3 all.
And her precious Baby, meanwhile, is
trying to rob young men in the streets
of Elmira. I don’t think his father
whipped him half enough, do you'*
There’s my train. I think. Well, good
by, old man! See you later, 1 hope.
Be good to yourself.”
1 cung Chester went outside to see
his triend off, and then returned to
the waiting room and sat down
thoughtfully. He sat in one of the
gloomy corners, with the woman and
the boy opposite to him. The place
was dVaughty, and the .June night air
chilly. Chester wondered why the
lady chose this room in which to wait.
He decided that it must be because
she could see her train coming.
The lady was middle aged and of re
fined appearance. As she sat with one
arm thrown over the shoulder of her
boy, her attitude bespoke motherly
tenderness and .concern. It struck
Chester how much like the Baby the
boy was in size and general appear
ance. The young man wondered vague
ly if she knew how much she had to
be thankful for in this innocent little
son, even though he was delicate.
He reflected that a delicate little
boy, who was dutiful and good, was
preferable to a hardy little boy who
was undutit'ul and “tough.” He felt
sure that this mother would think so
and he wondered how it would seem
to that other mother in Corning.*
A cold wave of air cut short his re
flections, and he shrugged his shoul
cprs slightly and was thinking to
walk about, when the woman said
something to the boy, and then rose
and left the room.
For a few moments the silenceofthc
station was broken only by the roar
of a train that came and went in the
darkness, leaving th? stillness more
perfect than before. Chester glanced
at the clock; it indicated 10 minutes
after 10.
He had still some minutes to wait,
and he was beginning to wonder how
ha could occupy it when his attention
was drawn to a boy doing a step dance
on the platform outside. Chester,
looking through the window, recog
nized the youngest of the boys who
had assaulted him.
The boy danced as though he had
nothing else in the world to think of.
Chester, looking closely, could just
distinguish the forms of his two old
er companions. In another instant
these two disappeared. The Baby
shouted, and ran after them.
Their movements suggested to Ches
ter that they were trying to get rid
of the Baby’s company. He felt more
sure of this a few minutes later when
the door was pushed open wide, and
the smaller boy came, in a surly
fashion, into the room, dragging his
large shoes across the floor with a
great deal of noise.
Chester, feeling safe from recogni
tion in his dark corner, watched him
closely. The boy’s hand was evidently
wrenched or twisted, for he shook it
repeatedly with a very fierce frown.
Choate..’ saw that the boy answered
perfectly \tainwright’s description of
Mrs. Gar van’s Baby.
The new-comer made straight for
the cozy corner in which the delicate
little boy was sitting, and looked at
him impatiently.
“Git out o’ the way!” he said,
crowding the little boy from his seat
without ceremony. The delicate boy,
much frightened and wide awake, went
across the room and took another seat.
The Baby sat down and drew himself
together as if he were cold, and then
leaned back and blinked revengefully
at the light with hiß cap pulled over
his eyes.
The door now opened, and the lady
came hack into the waiting-room. She
did not pause nor look about the room
but went over to where the Baby was
sitting with his head down and his feet
drawn closely under him. The lady
sank into the seat beside him, gently
threw one arm over his small shoulder
and bent her head above his.
. Chester felt sure that the Baby’s
eyes were watching her from under
his cap, and he waited for the Baby to
do something. Bat the Baby did noth
ing.
Whether it was that the lady’s ac
tion had taken him completely by
surprise or that he had become too
much embarrassed to move, it is im
possible to say. Chester’s eyes went
to the delicate little boy wonderingly,
but the little boy was sitting with his
face turned away from the door and
had not noticed his mother's entrance.
When Chester looked at the lady again
her hand gently strayed to the Baby’s
tangled hair, which she was softly ca
ressing with her fingers.
It seemed to Chester that her lips
were touching the young outcast’s
head, and that she was faintly mur
muring some lullaby. The Baby’s
head had dropped lower; but he still
sat so motionless that Chester began
to think that perhaps he had gone to
sleep.
Five minutes passed, and Chester be
gan to wonder how the incident would
close. He had quite made up his mind
that the Baby had fallen asleep when
the lady turned her head and her eyes
fell on the other little figure in the dis
tant corner of the room. She knew
her boy immediately. A startled look
came into her eyes. Sh3 drew back and
looked amazingly at the boy beside
her. and murmured hastily—
“ Dear me! I had no idea —I beg
your pardon, but I did not notice you,
and I thought you were my boy.”
Then Chester saw that the Baby had
not been asleep, for he threw aside
his head, after one quick glance into
the lady’s face, and murmured, in
what was almost a tone of reverence—
“ Yes. ma’am."
A few minutes later the woman and
the little boy went out to meet the
southerp bound train.
THE WEEKLY NEWS, CARTERSVILLE, GA.
Young Chester swung on# foot
across tue other uneasily, and looked
dreamily at a poushed model of a lo
comotive under a glass case. Then he
stood up. walked over to where Mrs.
Garvan’s Baby was sitting, and took
the seat beside him.
“Do you know,” Chester bfgan slow
ly and uncertainly, ”a young fellow’
around here named Garvan? I was
told 1 might find him somewhere
about; and I thought perhaps you
might have seen him.”
The Baby gave a quick, keen (dance
and then said, with scronful impa
tience —
“Naw! How'd I known? What
d'ye want of him?”
“Well, you see,” Chester said, “his
mother lives in Corning, and she has
a pretty hard time of it. and I wanted
to see him about it. He ran away
from home', you know, long ago. His
friends —I mean his mother and all the
people who knew him and used to like
him when he was a smaller fellow —
they can’t tell whether he’s dead, or
sick, and that’s pretty bad for them.
When you care very much for a per
son, and the person goes away and you
never see him nor hear of him even,
it hurts a good deal. his mother
cared very much for him, for he was
dearer to her than anything in the
W’orld.”
Chester paused. The silence in the
waiting room was complete. The boy
sat still and did not seem astonished
by this strange story.
“Perhaps you know,” Chester went
on, “that his mother lies all alone
now, and has no one belonging to her.
The people around where she lives
take care of her in a sort of way. She
needs to be taken care of now, you
know. She’s not so very old, but she’s
feeble, and she always has a sort of
tired appearance, and she’s always ex
pecting and watching for this boy of
liers."
“Nearly all the saloon keepers and
store keepers know Mrs. Garvan. Her
boy used to go around those places a
good deal, you see, and she keeps
thinking she’ll find him in some of
them. She goes often at night and
asks those people if they’ve seen her
Baby. She always tells them if ever
they see him to tell him that his
mother wants him. And she does
want him very badly. Wliy, she’s
nearly all the time crying alone by
herself.”
The boy shifted uneasily.
Everybody wants to do something
for her. but nobody can bring back
her boy, and that’s what would do her
the most good. Oftentimes they find
her sitting alone with something that
used to belong to her boy—something
that reminds her of him —they find
her like that crying silently. Queer,
don’t you think it is, how mothers
will go on that way?”
The Baby’s head was in his hands,
and he seemed to be critically observ
ing the floor. But he answered at
once, and in. the same tone in which
he had spoken to the lady—
“ Yes, sir,” he said, without looking
up.
“It seemed to me,” Chester went on,
quietly, “that if this young Garvan
only knew how she feels about it, he
would go hack to Corning and try to"
make her as cheerful as she used to
be. He doesn’t know about ‘her, I
guess, and he wouldn't stay away, per
haps, if lie knew how much she cared.”
Chester paused a moment and then
continued —
“And so r wanted-to tell him to go
right on to Corning as soon as lie
could. And perhaps if I gave you a
ticket to Corning you might be able to
see him and give it to him. Do you
think you could?”
The Baby did not raise his head,
and Chester bent to catch what he
said.
“Yes, sir,” the boy whispered.
“That’s good,” said Chester, cheer
fully, rising from Jjis seat.
He stepped across the floor, bought
a ticket for Corning and came back.
The Baity was still sitting with his
head down, hut Chester put the ticket
into his hand and told him that there
was a train leaving 10 minutes later.
Then Chester went outside and walked
up and down the platform.
“It’s a risk, of course,” he mused, ;
“spending my money on tickets that
perhaps will not do any good. But
other fellows risk money in worse
ways, and why shouldn’t I put mine
into this bit of humanity?”
That night, in one of the seats of _
the late train Into Corning, a little ,
boy sat alone with his face pressed j
close to the window pane. He did not
notice the lights that flashed by in
the darkness, nor the different sta- j
tion3, for he was crying quietly, not
at all like, a hardened and bad boy.
Some months afterward Wainwright
wrote the following paragraph in a
letter to Chester —
“You may remember our friend,
‘Mrs. Garvan’s Baby,’ whose acquain
tance you made in the streets of El
mira. Perhaps you will be surprised
to learn that he is now’ one of our
most respectable citizens. He is work
ing in one of the stores down town.
When I saw him the other day he
was dressed very neatly, with his shoes
polished and his hands clean, and his
clothes eminently respectable. He
was always bright, and now he bids
fair to become a leading man. Mrs.
Garvan doesn’t go around the streets
any more at night, and she thinks she
has the best son in the country. I am
at a loss to account for the sudden
reformation of the Baby.”
“Now,” said young Chester, leaning
back easily in his chair. “I don't
care how soon everybody knows about
the whole business. Some might say
I could have put the price of that rail
road ticket where it would yield big
ger returns, but I call it a very good
investment.” —Waverley Magazine.
Forty-six of every 100 postal cards
sold in Germany last year were tour
ist*’ pictorial cards.
WISH TO LIVE FOREVER.
IS THE DESIRE FOR IMMORTALITY
UN.VERSAL?
A Curlnii* Inquiry Unriortnken lv the
Society lor IVjillltnl llenenrrll Tliuftn
lumietleil Are Ktqiirntml to Big-oily
Whether They Sljli for it l iitore l.ifv.
A novel Investigation has just boon
initiated by the Society for Psychical
Research. During the last 12 or 15
years this organization has collected
accounts of experiments in telepathy,
mind reading, crystal gazing, spirit
communications, finding water and
metals with the divining rod, and kin
died phenomena indicating the exist
ence of faculties unlike those common
ly supposed to belong to man. These
stories have been subjected to an elab
orate sifting and scrutiny and efforts
have been made to secure corrobora
tive evidence from additional witness
es. Finally, some of the experts of
the society have taken the residuum of
fact left after that operation and tried
to interpret it. indicating to what ex
tent these strange narratives were ex
plainable on strictly natural princi
ples, and advancing theories to ac
count for the more mysterious inci
dents.
The latest undertaking of this or
ganization differs from all its earlier
work, in that it seeks to ascertain the
sentiments ot all its members and as
many outsiders as possible on a ques
tion of almost universal interest. It
is proposed to ask people bluntly
whether or not they wish for a future
life. Pains are taken in the census
circular which has been prepared for
this purpose to distinguish carefully
between a belief in and a desire for
immortality. Unless one has consid
ered the point he may think there is
no difference. But a little reflection
will show that a man may eagerly
desire a continuance of existence af
ter death while disbelieving that such
a fate is possible, and, on the other
hand, that one might he convinced
that his life would continue beyond
the grave and yet not he pleased at the
prospect. What the Society for Psy
chical Research wishes to ascertain is
how r general is the desire.
Dr. Richard Hodgson, secretary of
the American branch (No. 5 Boylston
place. Boston), has issued a circular
on the subject. He remarks that
“there is a widespread literary tradi
tion that, men naturally desire a fu
ture life.” Butflioth the ordinary con
duct of men and the sporadic utter
ances of individuals excite a doubt on
j this point, indeed, in India it is com
! mon to wish for absorption in the Ab
| solute and the sacrifice of individuali
ty. which fact creates even more un
certainty. Hence the desirability of
eliciting definite expression cf senti
ment from a considerable number of
intelligent people.
The society lias about 1000 members
in the United Kingdom and nearly
hi.lf as many more on this side ol
the Atlantic. If the majority of these
persons would reply to Dr. Hodgson’s
catechism a fair beginning would be
made. But if the members were to
become canvassers and distribute the
society’s circular freely, it might be
possible to get returns by the thou
sand. These, says the American sec
retary, would be instructive to both
psychologists and religious teachers.
The information thus derived would
enable the former to outline human
instinct with greater precision, and
aid the latter in adapting their exhor
tations to man’s cravings.
Althougn no effort is being; made to
ascertain th© prevalence of mere be
lief in as distinguished from desire for
a future life, the framer of the cir
cular here mentioned recognizes the
fact that some people accept the doc
trine of immortality readily as a mat
ter of faith, whereas others would like
to supplement their faith with a sci
entific demonstration, if such a thing
were feasible. That inclination has
drawn a good many people, scientific
and unscientific, to consult so-called
mediums. Or, if they could not get
access to a medium in whom they had
confidence, at least they were much in
terested in the published stories of
such experiments as Professor Hyslop
has with Mrs. Piper. It is said of the
late F. W. H. Myers, one of the apos
tles of the Society for Psychical Re
search. that his chief, quest was for
scientific evidence of a future life.
These circumstances have led to the
introduction of a question into the
circular just issued designed to ascer
tain whether the person who answers
is willing to take immortality on faith
alone or would like a different kind
of evidence. The questions are as fol
lows :
First—Would you prefer to live after
death or not?
Second—lf yes, do you desire a fu
ture life whatever the conditions might
We? If you do”not wish for a future
life, what would its character have to
be to make the prospect seem tolera
ble? Woilld you be content with a
life more or leas like your present
one?' Can you say what elements in
life (if any) call for its perpetuity?
Third—Can you state why you feel
in this way?
Fourth —Do you now feel the ques
tion of a future life to be of great im
portance to your mental comfort?
Fifth—Have your feelings on ques
tions one. two and four undergone
change? If so, when and in what
ways? .
Sixth—Would you like to know for
certain about the future life, or would
you prefer to leave it a matter of
faith?
The assurance is given by Dr. Hodg
son that all names will be regarded
as strictly confidential. He advises
collectors to note negative as well *s
affirmative answers, and adds that
even a refusal to reply is an indica
tion of feeling which it is important
to record. —New York Tribune.
FACTS ABOUT TROUT ECCS.
It lk About •. of Them to Kill a
(Juart Meaaare.
A few days ago I lifted a tray of
trout eggs from a trough in one of
the state hatcheries in the Adiron
dacks, and apparently th re were two
distinct kinds of eggs on the tray.
One kind consisted of small white
eggs and the’ other of large reddish
pink eggs, yet both were from the same
specks of fish. The large eggs were
from a brown trout, a wild fish, taken
in one of the nets while the men were
netting white fish. The small white
eggs were taken from a brown trout,
about the same size as the other, that
was captured last year from the same
poud, and it had been in the stock
ponds just one year.
All fish eggs are measured as they
come into a hatchery, as that is the
beginning of the count of fish that
result from the eggs, but eggs differ
greatly in size from the same species,
and they have to be counted and
counted again. The trays in a hatch
ery trough are all of the same size,
25 1-2 by 12 1-2 inches, inside meas
urement, and they will hold from 7000
to 9000 lake trout eggs and from 12,-
000 to 14,000 brook trout eggs, but
they cannot he spread on a tray to
insure a trustworthy count. Trout
eggs have been counted by the square
inch, but an actual square inch will
contain many more eggs than a theo
retical square inch based on the num
ber of eggs to a lineal inch. Quarts
and quarts have been counted, and flu
id ounces are now continually counted
to determine the number of eggs in a
standard quart.
Here are the counts made by the
United States fish commission of the
number of rainbow trout, eggs to a
quart, made at. different times and
places—6B7s, 6024, 6586—nnd with this
lor a basis one would be on the safe
side to call each quart 6500 eggs, for
an allowance must always be made,
and Is made, if the man who measures
the eggs is fair, as he should be, to
make sure that he has the number of
fry that he reports when the hatching
is finished, but (here is another count
—7025 eggs. The last count is from
eggs of domesticated fish, and the man
who measures the eggs must have one
count for wild eggs and another for
stock eggs.
This allowance can be illustrated by
two reports that 1 saw within a few
days. One foreman had sent to the
foreman of another hatchery some
whitefish eggs. The first man replied
that he had sent 150 quarts of eggs
and the second man reported that, he
had received 153 quarts. The first man
said that lie had made a fair allow
ance in his measurement. Each man
had reported at a central point with
out knowing the figures of the other,
so, on the face of it the first man hail
sent 5,520,000 eggs and the second man
had received 5,630,400 eggs, or an in
crease of 110,400 eggs in transit, al
lowing 36,800 eggs to a quart.
In counting eggs by measure much
depends on the trustworthiness of the
men who do the measuring, that large
eggs are not counted as small ones,
and that the proper standard of eggs
to a quart is used. Once I found a
man using a standard of 44,000 white
fish eggs to a quart, and he believed
he was right, and he had no idea of
deceiving the commission that em
ployed him, for he had arrived at his
figures by measuring a lineal inch of
eggs and squaring them, but eggs In
a square inch do not naturally occupy
.a position where the nadir of an egg
in one layer coincides with the zenith
of the eggs below it. The safe way
in figuring fish eggs is to count a part
of a quart if there is doubt about the
standard and then allow a good mar
gin for loss and shrinkage.—Forest
and Stream.
llnnum Knew tlie Noon Hour.
A pair of intelligent horses at
tracted the attention of a large crowd
on Nassau street. They were at
tached to a heavily loaded ice wagon
coming down the steep grade between
Cedar street and Maiden lane and were
holding back the wagon with a no
ticeable effort. When they were half
way down the whistles blew for 12
o’clock. Suddenly the horses drew in
toward the curve and began to plant
their hind feet well forward to stop
the wagon.
The driver made no effort to check
them and their hard work at once at
tracted notice. Pedestrians looked at
the horses and then at the driver,
who had a broad grin on liis face. By
hard work ‘the wagon was stopped.
The driver sat still and watched the
animals. One of them immediately be
gan rubbing his head against the neck
of the other and with nods and pushes
succeeded in rubbing his bridle off.
Then the other took his turn at rub
bing. and his bridle came off.
Fully 20ft persons had watched this,
and when it was completed the driver
got down from his seat and swung a
bag of oats from over the nose of each
animal. They stood there and ate
their mid-day meal. The driver was
patient and proud of his team. He
petted them and talked to them, and
when they were through drove off
whistling.
“Talk about the laboring man drop
ping his shovel at the sound of the
neon whistle,” said one man. “That
beats anything I ever saw. No one
hereafter need try to convince me of
the intelligence of the horse. That
ice wagon team settles it.” —New
York Sun.
Saw tlie Kquator.
In a letter from the Philippines, a
Kansas soldier wrote: “I was down
to the island of Borneo last month and
went out to see the equator. It wasn’t
much to see, and all we could do was
to step back and forth across where
it was said to be.”
Japan is a growing market for Ca
nadian wood pulp.
NAME; PLEASE?
The Golden Age has vanished and (per
haps) the Age of Brass:
The Silver and the Iron Age have like
wise come to pass:
Bui when the scholars name our time,
I wonder if they'll feel
It should he called the Novel Age, or
just the Age of Steel?
—New York Life.
HUMOROUS.
Sillicus —Truth is mighty. Cynicuß
—Yes; mighty scarce.
Wigg—Borrowell seems to know
everybody. Wagg—Yes; he manages
to keep in touch with the public.
Scribbler —Your friend, the poet,
always selects such grave subjects.
Scrawler—Yes, his specialty is epi
taphs.
Maynie—Jack was saved by a bul
let striking my picture. Lucy—ls that
so? Well, I guess your picture would
stop a cannon ball.
Blobbs —Why don't the Frenchmen
fight their duels with fists? Slobbs
—Oh, that wouldn’t do at all. Some
body night get hurt.
Hoax—That’s Mr. Fe’itz, the wealthy
hat manufacturer. Joax —Is that so?
“Yes. He began life as a liootblack.”
“1 see —he began at the foot and
worked up.”
Tommy—Pop, why Is justice repre
sented as being blindfolded? Tom
my's Pop—l suppose, my son. it is
because there are so many people
who manage to keep out of jail.
“Paw,” said the heir, “what is an
expert accountant?” “An expert" ac
countant,” replied the father, “is a
man tvho becomes famous by robbing
a bank for two years before he is dis
covered.’
“Well. Ethel.” said the caller, “what
are you going to do when you get big
like your mamma?” “O!” replied
Ethel, “I suppose I’ll have to put my
teeth in a glass of water, and paint
my face, too.”
“Here is a coin,” said the collector,
“that I am sure is valuable, but it is
so old and worn that I cannot .tell
just what it is.” “Can't make head or
of it. eh?" remarked the man who
wasn’t much interested in antiques.
Mamma —Tommy, the teacher tells
me that you do not behave well jn
school and that you are sadly behind
in your studios. Tommy—And you
sat and listened to her! Mamma,
don’t you know it takes two persons
to gossip?
Nell —I see the Bjoneses are back
from their wedding trip. I had an
idea at the wedding that Mr. Bjones
was quite tall, but he isn’t. Belle —
Well it’s to be expected that a man is
rather short when he returns from
his wedding trip.
A MATHEMATICAL PRODIGY.
Wonderful l ent* Attributed to an Indi
ana Alan.
The claim is now made that Arthur
Griffith, the Indiana mathematical
prodigy, excels in his yyork Buxton,
the Englishman. Griffith now haseight
different methods of his own for addi
tion. 10 for division, and 04 for mul
tiplication. He can take any number,
it is said, between 070 and 1000, anl
raise it to the fifth power in 39 sec
onds without the use of either pencil
or paper.
Griffith can add mentally three col
umns at a time, it is asserted; divide
any set of figures or multiply any set
of figures In from one to 40 seconds
and extract square and cube roots in
from three to 15 seconds. ITe remem
bers every problem that he works.
The hardest test which he has yet
been given, so he claims, is to stand
and see a freight train pass with 20
or 30 cars, and then tell the number
of each car in their order and specify
to what road each belonged.
Besides being a wonder in mathe
matics, Griffith is fairly well edu
cated in the common school studies.
He can read, write, and 3pell, and can
carry on an intelligent and interest
ing conversation. He knows the name
and length of every; railroad in the
country, and besides being about 40
percent ahead of Buxton in the line of
mathematics he is at least 90 percent
ahead of him in other studies.
lrtblc# U|>-to-l)ute.
A party of young people returning
from a picnic in great exuberance of
spirits sat in a- street car and sang
coon songs. Two men fitting apart
from the picnickers spoke to each oth
er and laughed, whereupq* & qroung
exuberant said to herself f %*h<wy ar
pleased with my singing,” ana she
whetted her voice still finer.
In truth, one of the men had whis
pered to the other: “That girl has a
voice like a rusty hinge.”
Moral: Conceit is not infectious:
that is. the other person will not
catch the conceit you have of yourself.
Two clerks named Thomas and
Clarence were in the employ of a
wealthy merchant. Thomas was al
ways an industrious lad, but Clarence
was much given to frivolity and was
extravagant in his habits. In after
years Clarence married his employer’s
daughter and was made a partner in
the business. Thomas continued to
be an honest, industrious clerk all his
life and his services were much ap
preciated by Clarence and his father
in-law.
Moral: There is no royal road to
success.—New York Commercial Ad
vertiser.
Kxi-etuive Precaution.
“What a splendid array of water
colors,” remarked the caller. “But
have you no oil paintings at all?”
“Oh, no!” replied Mrs. Nuritch. “1
don’t consider them safe.’ v
“Not safe? How do you mean?”
“In case of fire, you know.”—Phil*
adelphia Press.