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SONNET.
(From the Danish of Kai Holberg.)
“Wouldst have a bell of deep and perfect sound
So perfect that the metal melts in air
And is all music? Seek thou, then, with care
The fairest virgin in thy land around,”
®°rni fi' ne s e P r i es f? M making gongs expound,
Jhat all . . their folk may hasten, glad, to prayer,
W hen thou hast found the woman ’pure and fair
In the hot metal then must she be drowned.”
To me, a poet, came a maiden bright,
Of all ii ooiei ll 9 t back, who would become a part
my music, die that she might give
And My song new harmonies; in the fierce light
naming of the furnace of my heart
IIci girlhood perished that mv songs might live*
—Maurice Francis Egan, in the New York Times.
Waiting By CHARLES For T. Farquar. WHITE. 1
"What! A night like this?” The
voice was bluff and good natured, but
the words, and the way they were
spoken, seemed to reflect the least
bit upon the good judgment of the
younger lad opposite. “Why, man,
there has n’t been an hour in the last
three days that a sensible skipper
would think of putting out in, least-
ways with a loaded boat. This winds
up the season, my thinking.”
“I told Farquar I’d be on the watch
for him," the (kher said, << ’Tain’t
noways likely he’ll come now—that’s
a fact.” His purpose faltered a little,
with his own rising doubts, and the
brilliantly lighted hall uptown looked
wonderfully attractive to his fancy’s
eye. “I guess I’d better hold on down
here, though. It wouldn’t be any
joke to lie outside all night such
weather as this, and, besides, I've
promised.”
“Just as yon like, of course,” the
young man replied carelessly. “Hope
you’ll get your job.” The light laugn
expressed indulgence with childish
whim. “I shall have to be moving
on. S’long!”
David Ellison found himself stand¬
ing alone on the slippery pier, watch¬
ing his companion's retreating figure.
There wasn’t anything heroic in the
situation, so far as he could see, and
Brand Tatloclc’s parting words and
incredulous laugh had left him feel¬
ing vaguely discontented and uncom¬
fortable. Why should a fellow be
everlastingly tied up to his work, es¬
pecially when there wasn’t any work
in sight, as Brand had said, nor even
a prospect of there being any? A
sudden veering of the wind drove a
dash of wet snow in David’s face,
and he brushed it away with an im¬
patient gesture, pulling his cap lower
over his forehead. Of course, there
wasn’t a light schooner on the lake
to-night, and wouldn’t be for months,
perhaps.
David Ellison had been in charge
o! the dingy little tug, Josephine,
ever since his father’s death, some
eighteen months before. The legal
formalities were easily complied
with, for David knew the port and
the boat as ^ bright pupil in the day
school knows his spelling book, and
old Peter McHarg stayed by the en¬
gine. David was looking longingly
through plate glass windows at young
men perched on high stools, or bent
over desks in counting rooms, or
darting about alertly behind screens
of steel network in banks and offices.
That was a kind of life David
dreamed of, while the puffing, busy-
little tug towed numberless small
craft inside the stone piers at Luray.
Luray wasn’t much of with the larger
lake ports, but a good deal of lumber
was shipped in there from the numer¬
ous “landings” which formed a semi¬
circle around the lower end of the
lake. Luray was pretty near the cen¬
tre of the curve, and had a railway-
terminus. Most of the lumber came
down in small schoonners, and this
made business for tugs like the Jo¬
sephine. One couldn’t trust the wind
inside the stone piers.
There wasn’t a better pilot on the
lake than John Ellison in his lifetime,
but the Josephine had a paying pat¬
ronage when David took up the work.
That was why he did it. It would
never do to take chances on a new
venture when there was a widowed
mother to be looked after, and Dan¬
nie half through his high school
course, and Mary needed at home,
while mother was in such poor health.
David dreamed, but his dreams didn’t
interfere with his faithful manage¬
ment of the Josephine, and the men
who had known John Ellison said
David was a “chip of the old block.”
David took that as a compliment, and
held his patronage by r doing his best.
The season was practically over
now. Winter was in the air and in
the sullen, heaving swells of the lake.
Most of the cargoes were in, and pru¬
dent skippers realized that there
might be a sudden change of weather
almost any time, after the schooners’
keels went tripping their way through
the first scum of thin ice. “Jud”
Farquar was not prudent. It was the
last thing of which his best friend
or his bitterest enemy would think
of accusing him. He had a sturdy,
rugged will of his own, which hurled
defiance in the face of winter winds,
if they happened to come too eagerly
to suit his rather leisurely move¬
ments. After the last boat had un¬
loaded, and put about, after the last
car had rattled away to the main
line, freighted with odorous remind¬
ers of the Michigan forests, the An¬
dalusia, snub-nosed and stanch, with
her rigging ice-coated, like the rig¬
ging of an Arctic whaler, might be
expected to appear at any moment.
Once, lauglied may years before — skippers
still at the memory between
whiffs of their black pipes—the An¬
dalusia had “frozen in,” despite
“Jud” Farquar's boasts, and he had
stumped the whole fifty miles back
to his lumber camps and mills, on
foot, sturdily refusing the aid of
steam cars and wagons.
It was Farquar, or rather the
llis ' ale comill S> which had
e j osep 1116 at tie pier the3e
, . * w 0 ler fij’ es banked, and
„ , w h n hailing distance,
easy
ne wea 161 broke for
good i ,, wiseacres declared, squinting
up at the leaden sky, and burying
uen c ins in coat collars or mufflers
gains he chilly southwest wind,
T. sin *.*„ o c ^ cold ri \ e ^ rain 'V th flurry an occasional of
or a snow-
aces ti l i would be like Farquar
SU< ° r? ©l 1 .,. olu er ' we W1 ^ © t i ier tfi® Andalusia in
-
avid ., went dow n into the tiny cab-
in and lighted a lamp, as soon as he
la watched Brand Tatlock out of
sight He told himself that he would
nush his hair, put on his best suit,
and follow his whilom companion to
Mechanics Hall, where the entertain-
ment was to be held. He made no
movement to carry out this threat,
however, for, though David was de-
cidedly “out of sorts,” he had not,
at heart, receded from the position
taken, when he refused Brand’s in-
citation. The entertainment would
be a pleasant break in the monotony,
and he felt a little sore at being “tied
up, but there wasu t a doubt that
the Josephine was the place for him,
until he heard definitely from Far-
quar. That might be early the next
morning. It certainly couldn’t be
later than the next afternoon, when
Farquar was holding his promise to
watch out for the Andalusia. Far-
quar must know that “watching out”
was anything but agreeable business
in this kind of weather. Most fellows
wouldn’t wait a minute beyond a
reasonable time, David assured him-
self, letting his discontent make him
momentarily boastful. Hadn’t Brand
Tatlock laughed at the idea? And
Brand had been on board a Kanawah
schooner almost from the day he
could handle a rope, a manly, clean,
trustworthy fellow he was, too.
David perched on the edge of his
bunk, and picked up a three-days-old
newspaper, running his eye idly down
the columns of the wrinkled sheet,
His secret grumbling was a mere es-
cape valve for his feelings, evidently,
for ha showed no signs of leaving his
post. It was a folly in which David
seldom indulged, but it’s what one
does, not what one’s talks about do-
ing, which really counts. He listened
now to McHarg’s heavy boots clump¬
ing down the six steps of the com¬
panion-way.
“Wa-aitin up for Farquar, eh,
la-ad?” the engineer shouted in jo¬
cosely. His voice was heavy, like
his shoes, and he flattened his vowels
after the fashion of a Cornishman.
“He’ll ha-arly put in the noight. The
wind’s roisin’ a-and shiftin' a bit
fro’ the sou-west. It’ll be blawin’
dead offshore ’fore maernin’, I’m
thinkin’.”
“I’ll keep watch till midnight—or
later,” David replied, without looking
up. McHarg’s Jesting tone nettled
him. Why must everybody treat his
waiting for Farquar in the light of a
joke? There wasn’t any joke about
it, that was sure. “Look after the
fires, and turn in, when ever you get
ready.”
David divided his time between the
snug cabin and the comfortless pier.
The former was much more to his lik-
ing, but he found himself growing
drowsy now and then i:i the close at¬
mosphere, and, besides, it was nec¬
essary to keep an occasional eye out
for signals from the offing. For.lack
of something better to do, he amused
himself by smiling at the improbabil-
ity of seeing any. The wind was
blowing a gale now, and the air was
thickening with damp snow.
K if y° a to § e
Don’t contradict people, even if you’re sure you are fight.
Don’t be inquisitive about the affairs of even your most
intimate friend.
1 Don’t underrate anything because you don’t possess it.
? Don’t believe that everybody else in the world is hap¬
pier thap you. conclude that have had- any
Don’t you never oppor¬
tunities in life.
Don’t believe all the evils you hear. !
Don’t be rude to your inferiors in social position.
Don’t, repeat a gossip, even if it does interest a crowd.
% P/ Don’t jeer at anybody’s religious belief.
Learn t.o hide your aches and pains under a pleasant
'f smile, Few care whether you have the earache, headache or
§ rheumatism. , business—a important .
Learn to attend to your own very
pome. not try to be anything else but a gentleman, or a
Do who has consideration for
gentlewoman, and that, means one
the whole world, and whose life is governed by the Golden
Rule: ‘•Do unto others as you would be done by.”—Chris-
tian World.
It was late, and David must have
fallen into a drowse. He came up
■with a bound, flashing an alarmed
glance at the little nickel clock over
his bunk's head. It was long past
midnight, and, he rushed on deck,
without putting on his heavy Jacke*.
He had the shamed sense of having
slept at his post, and it seemed to
him at the instant that Farquar
must be just outside the piers, sig¬
naling frantically for the Josephine.
Strangely enough, the fancy and the
reality blended almost as soon as his
feet struck the wet planks. A flare
shot up out of the snow-misted dark¬
ness, and David only paused to note
the direction of the wind before he
dashed down the companionway,
shouting to Jacobs and McHarg.
“The wind’ll he dead against ’er
in an hour,” he warned, counseling
haste. “Start the engine the minute
it’ll move ’er. If the Andalusia’s
driven out a night like this, she’s
done for. We’ll have the wind with
us till we come up with ’er.”
“It’s reesky, la’ad,” McHarg
growled under his beard. “A fool
head thot Farquar has to be abra-ad
the noight. Who’d ever ’a’ dr’amed
ov it.” But David was out of hear¬
ing.
The Josephine was under motion
at last, wheeling sullenly from her
moorings. It seemed hours to David,
though, fortunately, the fires were
well alive, and the start was only a
mattei . of minut es. The tug forged
ahead briskly> as she fell in with the
wind, her lights cutting a narrow
furrow through the black night. An-
other flare flamed up, and another,
as though the Andalusia was grow-
j ng impatient of her plight, as indeed
she was g be see med to have shifted
her position; possibly David surmised
drifting before the wind toward the
open lake. He had a boyish impulse
to plunge through the glass front of
the pilot house, and drag the Joseph-
ine faster, faster than the grunting
engine was carrying her along. He
must not be too late—he, the fellow
who had waited for Farquar these
two days, and slept at his post like
a land lubber at the last critical mo-
ment.
David was not too late, but it was
a close shave. Once, the Josephine,
caught up a huddle of rollers at the
stern, threatened to transfix the An-
dalusia amidships. Once, the Anda-
lusia darted away like a wild thing,
straight for the open water, but the
gust lulled to let the tug come up,
and heave her cable; then, the stout
cable parted, between a mighty puff
0 f wind offshore and the strain of
starting the tow, and David held
what little breath he had left until
a second cable was made fast,
it was a hard pull after that, the
engine below grunting and snorting
an d hissing, like a black giant in
pa i n ; the Josephine splitting the big
rollers into thin spray on her weath-
er bow; and the new cable straining
a nd creaking, as though its first ser-
vice might be its last; but it was over
i n due time, as the hardest things
are sure to be, and the few skippers
j n port pointed wondering fingers at
the Andalusia next morning, as she
j a y a t her moorings, a veritable Ice-
ship, coated from stem to stern with
the frozen spray, like an old veteran
bearing the scars of battle,
“So you waited for Farquar, eh?”
that eccentric individual inquired
later the same day, when David came
on board the Andalusia, by appoint-
ment, to collect his fee for the “tow.”
“Wal, young man, if you hadn’t, I
reckon nobody ’ud ’a’ had the trou¬
ble o’ waitin’ for Farquar any more.
I ain’t what you might call reel
timid”—the stubby chin wrinkled
grotesquely at the suggestion—-“but
I don’t mind ownin’ ’at my hack hair
begun to curl—some little.”
“Bad night,” David admitted laco¬
nically. It appeared a small thing,
now it was all over. “Yes, I did hold
back a day or two, though I didn’t
much expect you’d put out after the
weather broke. No” — refusing a
proffered roll of hills—“just the usu¬
al charge. We have to take the bit¬
ter with the sweet.”
“Jud” Farquar was eyeing the
young face before him thoughtfully,
as his money disappeared from sight
in the depths of David's wallet. He
was rather an undersized man, with
sharp, restless, heady eyes, and a lip
and chin which indexed his obstinate
self-will.
“We're short a man down below,”
be began tentatively, jerking a stub¬
by thumb in the general direction of
his last night’s adventure. “One o’
them big concerns swallered ’im up
a month ago, slick an’ clean, like as
Jonah did the whale.” The remark-
,
able comparison, apparently, gave |
him courage to make the plunge, for,
he went on briskly: though, “Bookkeeper ’twa’n’t we j '
caned Simmons, all I
books. He checked sales, f’r in¬
stance, and put ray letters into shape
for sendin'. Don't s’pose you'd rare
to pen up under a roof with such a
Job’s that, providin' a man wo<ld
make it wuth your while?”
"Indeed I should like nothing hot¬
ter,” David responded promptly.
Wasn’t it almost exactly what he had
dreamed of ever since his school
days? "I could give it a trial, any¬
how, while there isn't much doing
on the lake. I can’t thank you enough,
Mr. Farquar.”
"Oh, that’s nothin’." David's out¬
spoken gratitude appeared to embar¬
rass Mr. Farquar. He chuckled soft¬
ly to himself a moment, then added:
“It jus’ struck me 'at I’d like to try
a fellow onct who’d l’arned afore-
hand how to wait for Farquar.”—•
Christian Union Herald.
The .Crown of Great Britain.
The present crown of Great Britain
was constructed in 1808, with jewels
taken from old crowns and others
furnished by command of the Queen.
It contains four large pear shaped
pearls, 2 73 small pearls, 147 table
diamonds, 1273 rose diamonds, 1303
brilliant diamonds, 5 rubies, 11 enier-
aids and 17 sapphires. — Home Notes,
His Little Kick.
“In this matter of quick tliink-
ng,” said the baseball umpire, “all
be bouquets go to the players; and
et we fellows have to think as quick
as th^y do, if not a little quicker. If
a player works his thinker too slow
all he gets is an error, If I do it I
get a pop bottle.”—Chicago Tribune.
A sash is the engagement present
of the Japanese lover.
SCIENCE
AND
W- ifm/r
i Ipf?
INDUSTRY
New vanadium steel handsaws,
which will cut iron pipe, are capable
of being rolled into spirals, regaining
their original forms without injury
when released.
Professor Trevor Kincaid, of the
department of zoology, University of
Washington, will leave Seattle about
April, 1910, for Simferopol, Crimea,
Russia, where he will undertake for
the United States Bureau of Ento¬
mology, the collection and shipment
of parasites of the gypsy moth.
Although in most of the mines in
Japan the various operations are car¬
ried out by the ordinary labor of men
and cattle, it seems from a report on
the mining industry in Hokkaido that
at three coal mines and at one gold
and silver mine, electrical machinery
is employed. In all, nine ‘‘electrical
engines” are employed in the coal
mines, and one “electrical engine” in
a gold and silver mine. The nature of
their work is not stated, but it would
appear to partake mainly of the trans¬
port of ore.
Panfillo Garza Garcia is at the head
of a company to harness Popocatepetl,
the great volcano near Mexico City,
and furnish all the power for the
national capital. He proposes sinking
two wells into the side of the volcano
until he reaches the boiling point in
the earth. Then with nitroglycerine
exploded at the bottom he proposes to
make an opening between the two.
He would then run cold water down
one well and he says steam would
come up out of the other. He would
harness this to an engine and the job
would be done.
A standing puzzle is the almost
universal tendency of men and women
of all races to use the right hand in
preference to the left. Examination
of skeletons has shown, by the differ¬
ences of bone development, that this
tendency is of very ancient origin. It
is often ascribed to the fact that the
left hemisphere of the brain—which
controls the right side of the body—•
possesses, in normal persons, a su¬
perior development. But those who
think that the preference for the
right hand is an acquired habit, al¬
though one of immensely long stand¬
ing, suggest that perhaps the left
cerebral hemisphere has become bet¬
ter developed as the result of the
overuso of the right limbs. At any
rate, a society has been founded in
London for the cultivation of ambi¬
dexterity, and it will he for the physi¬
ologists of the future to determine
whether education in the use of the
left hand can affect the development
of the right side of the brain.
Women Who Vote.
There are four States where wom¬
en have the same political rights as
men. They are Colorado, Idaho,
Utah and Wyoming.
The right to vote on some or all
school questions is granted to women
in Arizona, Colorado, Connecticut,
Delaware. Florida, Iowa, Illinois, In-
diana, Idaho, Kentucky, Kansas,
Michigan, Massachusetts, Minnesota,
Mississippi, Montana. Nebraska, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, New York,
North Dakota, Oklahoma, Ohio, Utah,
South Dakota, Vermont, wvonnng „
and Wisconsin.
In Great Britain equal suffrage pre¬
vails in ail matters excepting elec-
to Parliament. Full suffrage is
granted women in Australia, New
the Isle of Man, Finland and
West Magazine.
The New “Sick Man of Europe.”
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MAHOMET V., WHO REIGNS, BUT DOES NOT RULE, OVER TURKEY.
A “SLOW JOHN.”
By Eliot Kays Stone.
The inhabitants of the Southern
mountains sometimes grind their corn
with an automatic miller known as
the ‘‘Slow John.”
This contrivance is very simple and
crude in form and workmanship, but
taking things slowly and easily and
working steadily, it turns out from
one to three bushels of meal a day.
There are two varieties, the more
common one being constructed as fol¬
lows:
A trough is fastened to one end of
a stout stick, and a perpendicular
beam to the other. The stick is sup¬
ported in such a way as to make the:
beam end remain down of its own
weight. But when water is run into
the trough end the weight of the
water and trough combined makes
that end heavier than the beam or
hammer, which is then lifted high
from the mortar in which it rests,
and which contains the corn. As
the trough descends, the water runs
out, and then the weight of the ham¬
mer again brings it down into the
| j mortar with great violence. This is
repeated day and night until the corn
is ground, when the meal is taken out
and fresh corn put in its place. An¬
other variety of “Slow John” is op¬
erated by a water-wheel.
It can readily be seen that such an
automatic mill and miller is of great
value to a community where every
man is needed in the field. Its cost
is practically nothing. After the few
hours or days spent in its construc¬
tion, no attention need be paid to it
beyond giving it something to do.
I have never seen one of these ma¬
chines save In a limited district in
North Carolina, Tennessee and Ken¬
tucky. That they exist there testifies,
I think, to the originality of these
secluded people, who have lived for
so many generations in their own
way, undisturbed by the shrill
whistle of advancing civilization.—
Youth’s Companion.
His Happiest Hour.
He—“You remember the moon- I
light night, twenty-five years ago, I
when I proposed?” i
She—“Yes, indeed.” ’ J
He—“We sat there for more than
an hour, and you never opened your |
lips.” ;
She—“Yes, dear.”
He—“That was the happiest hour
of my life.”—Cleveland Leader. j !
The Simplon tunnel was begun No- |
vember 13, 1898, and the Swiss and
Italian boring parties met at 7.30
a. m„ February 2 4, 1905.
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THRONE OF THE SULTAN OF TURKEY,
When a new Sultan lakes his seat here the ceremony of his installation
is not yet over. llis real consecration takes place later, when the scimitar
of Osman is girded on him in a mosque which no unbeliever may enter.
The Maxim Gun Silencer.
The noiseless rifle invented by
Iliram Percy Maxim has caused much
discussion. Some declare that it will
be an aid to criminals, because they
can shoot without tlie noise from the
explosion betraying' them.
Interior mechanism of gun silencer,
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the “reverse turbine,” which prevents
gas from escaping rapidly, is shown
in the picture.
Dresden a City of Pleasure.
Dresden is essentially a city of
pleasure—of fair, wide prospects, of
hearty river life, of zest in nature
and art. Even the public buildings
cluster about the Elbe, just as the
huts of the first settlers clustered.
A circle of Wendish herdsmen’s huts
on the right bank, a line of fisher
shanties on the left—these were the
unlikely beginnings of Dresden in the
sixth century. But the settlement
lay at the only point In the river val-
i e y where a ford was practicable,
tempting the Germans to settle on
the left bank between the Wends and
the swamps, or Seen, unlovely places
that have long since disappeared,
leaving behind only the names See-
s trasse. Am See and Seevorstadt. In-
deed, the very name of Dresden Is
derived from the Slavic dresjen,
which means "dwellers in the swamp-
forest.”—Century.