Newspaper Page Text
Census statistic* say that there is
excess of 1,500,000 men over womeu
in vbis country.
“Where does all the gold go to?
asks a paper. Well, responds the
New York Tribune, 1800 pounds of it
goes into people’s teeth every year,
put there by the dentists.
In this country 33,000,000 acres of
land aro being farmed by irrigation.
France owes its wonderful success in
gardening to this system, and in late
years Italy has spent over $200,000,-
000 for this purpose.
The area of the arid region of the
United States is about 1,300,000 square
miles—one-third of the whole country.
Mujor Powell estimates that 150,000
square miles of this, equal to half the
preseiit cultivated area of the coun¬
try, may he reclaimed by irrigation
within a generation.
In Western Australia the cost of
producing wheat is 50 cents per
bushel with a double-furrowed plow.
With a (luce or four furrowed plow,
ami a corresponding saving in the u-e
of larger harrows and improved har¬
vesting, this cost can be reduced by 12
or 20 cents per bushel.
General Butterfield is responsible
for the following story of Commo¬
dore Vanderbilt: Commodore Van¬
derbilt, the founder of the family and
fortune, a man of great character and
wisdom, was once asked what he con¬
sidered the secret of success. “Secret!
secret!” he replied, “there is no secret
about it; all you have to do is to at¬
tend to your own business and go
ahead.”
The London Lancet issues a word
of warning to long-distance bicycle
racers, alluding particularly to tho
carriers of dispatches. It says, “In
some instances such is the tension that
the man literally propels himself in
what may he called blindness. His
legs work automatically, and his
course is directed in a manner very
little different.” It adds that man is
not an engine of iron and steel, and
that if he treats himself as one lie will
soon become an engine so disabled
that his better 6elf will fall into death
before he lias reached wliat iu others
better trained would he the prime
period of vital strength and activity.
“The most fertile Hold of the Mor¬
mon missionaries,” says the Boston
Record, “has been in London, and all
eflorts to stop the work of proselyting
have proved futile. Among the mid¬
dle and the lower classes the oiiy-
tongued elders fiud ready listeners and
many converts. It is stated that one
apostle annually sends over 500 con¬
verts, mostly English. The statement
is probably true. The Mormon settle¬
ment is composed of foreigners and a
few American thugs and baudits, who
saw in the secret organizations like
the Danites a chance just suited to
their desires. The native-born con¬
verts to the Mormon faith arc few and
far between. The scums of Europe
offer a far more promising field to tho
elders.”
“The hog industry is immense,”
said Mr. Joliu W. B akeley to the St.
Louis Star-Sayings. “Statistics show
52,252,000 hogs in this country.
There is lots of capital invested iu
porkers. The fluctuation of a few
ceuts per cwt. in prices means an enor¬
mous sum of money to hog raisers. If
the average weight of hogs is but 100
pounds per head and values change
but 1 cent, per 100 pounds, it makes a
difference in the total value of over
$500,000. If values fluctuate 10 cents
per cwt. it means a chuuge o>f more
than §5,000,000; while a change of
25 per cwt. moans a total value of the
entire swine industry of over §12,-
500,000; while a drop of §1 per cwt.
would mean a shrinkage in values of
over §50,000,000 to the hog men of
tho entire country, and a riss of the
same proportion would add to their
wealth the same amount. There is
nothing in which farmers are inter-
ested more than iu the fluctuations of
hogs and hog product and yet few
realize how large a sum of money is
tossed up or down in the simple turn
or change in the hog market of a few
cents. There is no fanner who owns
a hog hut participates in this ebb and
flow.”
Making of' the Rain,
Charmed with the smile towards them
turned,
The waters of the ocean rise;
Like incense on earth’s altars burned
The mist floats up before our eves
To form cloud draperies to the skies.
And when the sky goes down at even
His rays light up their underfold;
We see the curtain shades of heaven
Before the gates of light unrolled,
With crimson lined and edged with gold,
And later, when the stars are set
Upon that field of azure blue,
Like daisies or like lilies wet
With crystal drops of morning dew,
That misty veil their light shines through.
Those vapory folds the landward breeze
Fills like a spectral fleet of sail,
Strong convoy on aerial seas—
Over the mountain’s crest they trail,
At moorings swing above the vale.
But what shall hold these cloud-forms up
When they shall see on hill and plain
Each flower iift its empty cup?
Bather, through sympathy with pain,
Will they dissolve in tears of rain.
—[Isaac Choate, B. in Boston Transcript.
Nathaniel’s Love Storv.
u
BY DAISY BHODES CAMPBELL.
Nathaniel Morrison swung liis
scythe with a will. Each stroke
seemed timed. The fact was, it
moved to his thoughts. The young
farmer was not given to day-dreams,
but nowadays everything was
changed. Today his thoughts rail on,
though his lvork never faltered. If
only the Winthrops hadn’t turned
their place into a summer resort last
year, everything might be as it was in
those delightful days, which seemed
now like a past Arcadia. Never had
the meadows or orchards looked so
beautiful—never had the wild flowers
and ferns grown as they had when he
and Hetty, free and unrestrained,
wandered together to (he woods, or,
mounted on their fleet horses, dashed
down the road for a canter. Every
day was full of Hetty.
IIis work was planned to give the
evenings to her, and he had hoped
that 6he, child as she was, was learn¬
ing to care for him. The Stanfields
lived the simplest of lives, and Hetty
had been brought up to lend a helping
hand to all kinds of domestic duties.
But now since summer hoarders had
invaded their beautiful countryside all
was changed. Innocent, industrious,
simple-hearted Hetty no longer cared
for such a quiet, even round of duties
and pleasures, as had hitherto been
her lot. How 60 on she had become
intimate with the Carters and Vails!
How quickly she had learned new
ways and those coquettish turns of
her pretty head; and that little trick
she had of dropping her eyes and rais¬
ing them, which seemed nowadays
more conscious than of old.
Then how quickly she had learned to
dance! And what a belle she had
been at tho parties at Winthrop’a.
And here it was June again, and al¬
ready the season’s raid upon Win-
tlirop had begun. But Hetty still
lingered in the city with her new
friends, the Vails. And handsome
Arthur Vail, was, he supposed, her
faithful shadow, and in the same city
was that cool, cynical Philip Carter,
who ban paid the little couutry girl
so much attention.
He supposed they would all come
hack—Hetty among them—hut why
did he want her to come? He surely
did not enjoy heartache and madden¬
mg doubts and constant pain—oh,
why couldn’t he give her up? Ilis
work was a farmer’s, and, if Hetty
longed for a more varied and change¬
ful life, and cared for men more pol-
* s ^ed and versed in the world’s ways
than he, why couldn’t he let her go
a,u * scltie down to his loved domain
and be conteut?
“Now, mother, your lawn is im¬
proved, and Jako must run over it
with the mower, and the grass sha’nt
get so tali again,” ho said.
Nathaniel’s mother, a sweet-faced,
■white-haired, yet singularly youthful
woman of her age, stood on the broad
piazza watching her sou. He was
noted the country over for his
care of his widowed mother, as well
as I° r his success as a farmer, Ho
had all the newest improvements in
implements and architecture* for his
laud and buildings. Only the old
bomosiead remained the same, will*
the addition of bay windows and pjuz-
zas to its rather plain exterior.
“Thank you, Philip, it must look its
best for the summer boarders,” Mrs.
Morrison replied, smiling, Philip
frowned and turned away. He strode
off and down the road to speak to one
of the men. A quarter of a mile away
was a lovely spot with tree and wild
flowers everywhere. Here Philip bad
planned to build a new lu>me some
day—the homestead must he for his
mother, Aunt Jane and his younger
brother, now away at college. But
here was to he a modern cottage to
suit Hetty’s tastes.
“Are you going to slight old
friends?” called out a merry voice.
And there was Eleanor Carter,
mounted on a fine new thoroughbred,
and smiling upon him. lie liked
Miss Carter—she was so intelligent and
original. They had exchanged hooks
and thoughts. He was glad to meet
her again. She was a stately, fair
girl, with golden hair and deep gray
eyes. Nathaniel thought her a beauty.
He longed yet feared to a6k about
Hetty, but Eleanor replied to his un¬
spoken wish: “The Vaiis came with
us, and also xVLiss Stanfield. We’re
to Lave a little dance tonight. You
must be sure to come. I want to see
if you’ve forgotten my lessons of last
summer. There comes my brother
now. I cut across country and
reached this pike before lie did.” The
gentlemen saulted; Miss Carter nodded
a gay good-bye and was gone.
Should he go and see Hetty? No,
he would stay at home and count the
cost of cultivating those new acres. It
would he much more sensible than
joining that gay party of city people.
Yet, in spite of his resolution, Na¬
thaniel was at the Wiuthrops. He
danced with Miss Vail and Miss John¬
son and Eleanor Carter. He asked
for a dance with Hetty but she
blushed and told him her card was
full. It was only another excuse, he
felt sure, yet Hetty had always been
so truthful, so frank. He went home
early, cursing his folly in not obeying
his reason and staying at home.
The next few days were full of
hard work, and Nathaniel’s labors
were never half clone. He felt grate¬
ful for his unusual strength, his large,
well-proportioned body, his perfect
health. What more could a man ask
for than to be the owner of so many
broad acres, a pleasant home, and
plenty to do, that he must ho sighing
for a wilful woman?
One day a lamb was missing and
Nathaniel set out to find it. At last a
low bleating came to his keen ears,
lie ran on. and there, down a steep
ravine he saw the missing creature,
lame from its fall and bleating forth
its pain and trouble. Iu a moment he
was by its side. He had provided
himself as usual with ointment and
linen. The legs were treated and
bound. He picked up the trembling
creature in his strong arms and
climbed the steep ascent. When nearly
at the top he felt a sharp wrench. He
tried to put the lamb on a shelving
rock, then lost his footing, and, slip¬
ping and falling, helpless with that
keen pain iu his foot, his head struck
something and he knew no more.
When Nathaniel’s consciousness re¬
turned he thought at first that he had
entered paradise, for bending over
him was Hetty’s face, pale and fright¬
ened. She was bathing his head with
water. As he looked into her eyes the
color flashed into her face, 'd
thought—I thought you were dead,”
she faltered, and turned away. Na¬
thaniel was not yet sure whether he
was on earth or in heaven, but he was
a man, and the sight of Hetty’s agita¬
tion decided him to follow up his ad¬
vantage. He seized her hand;
“Hetty, did you care?” lie demanded.
“Of course I cared; haven’t we
been friends all our lives?” she asked
reproachfully, and trying to withdraw
her hand.
But he held it fast. “Tell me, are
you to marry Arthur Vail or Carter?”
he questioned eagerly.
“Tell me aro you to marry Miss
Eleanor?” Hetty asked saucily, for
answer.
“Oh, that is nonsense—you know
very well Unit I never cared for any
one hut you, Hetty; hut you are so
changed, you seemed so tired of our
| i country life.” A sharp pain in his
ankle made him pause. lie knew now
! that he was still on earth, yet even the
pain seemed as nothing to Hetty’s
; reply:
“I thought you had tired of me;
you know I am not clever or wise,
• and there were others who could talk
lo you so much belter,” faltered
Hetty with downcast eyes.
Nathaniel’s eyes opened wide in
geuuinc astonishment: “Why, Hetty!
I supposed that you always knew that
I loved yon, hut I thought you liked
those other fellows,” he said. “If you
care for me now, just let us go hack
to those old days when we were such
good comrades, and perhaps in time
you might care for me; do you think
you could, Hetty?”
Again the lovely eyes were dowu-
cast.
“No, I couldn’t,” murmured tho girl.
“Oh, I ’
“Because—oh, Nat, you are so
stupid for such a great splendid fel¬
low—because I love you already.”
“Oh, Hetty!” But in n hat a differ¬
ent way that same exclamation can he
uttered!
Later, a demure young woman sent
two of the men to help Mr. Morrison
home, as he had met with an accident
—sprained his ankle. She carried a
lame lamb whose bleating first led her
in.her fern hunt to the spot where
Nathaniel lay helpless.
People wander why Nathaniel Mor¬
rison and his pretty wife never would
fill up the ravine when it interferred
so with the field west of it, hut the
ravine never betrayed its secret, eveii
to me. — [Country Gentleman.
Fate of au Educated Pig.
Almost eleven years ago a famous
hog of almost 6Uperporci»e intelli¬
gence was attached to the circus at St.
Petersburg, Russia, where it basked iu
the sunshine of fashionable favor
throughout two gay winter seasons.
T^is sagacious creature, at once a
ready reckoner, fortune teller 1 and
deft executioner of card tricks, was
the property of one Tanti, a famous
Italian clown, who had brought it up
from infancy and taught it all its ac¬
complishments.
One night he and his pig were hid¬
den to a gathering of young officers
of the Russian Guard, supping to¬
gether after the performance, and
were called upon to repeat the pro¬
gramme of the evening—of course, on
payment of a handsome fee. At tho
conclusion of the show one of the offi¬
cers offered Tanti $G00 for his pig.
The clown declined to sell, pointing
out that the docile animal constituted
its chief source of income, and that,
moreover, he was far too fond of it
to part from it. 13 pon tli s the officers
proceeded to tempt him by outbidding
one another until they ran the price
up to §3000.
This sum, and the reflection that he
could probably train another pig to
replace the one thus exorbitantly val¬
ued, finally induced Tanti to accept
the oiler, little thinking lo what a dis¬
mal fate he thereby consigned his pet.
Next day the luckless animal was
slaughtered by order of its purchaser
and sent to tho clown’s lodging with
with the message that “no doubt Sig¬
nor Tanti would like to taste a porker
which had been so profitable to him
in life and death alike.”
Tho whole grim story, equally dis¬
creditable to all concerned in it, got
wind in St. Petersburg, and made a
painful impression upon Russian so¬
ciety. A severe reprimand was admin¬
istered to the officer whoso cruel freak
has canned the death of a public favor¬
ite, and Tauti’s popularity sensibly
declined. Oddly enough, a few weeks
later he was fired at while cutting ca¬
pers in the ring by an eccentric Polish
nobleman, whose bullet just missed
the clown, burying itself in the saw¬
dust at his feet, and causing him such
affright that he ran from the circus
like one demented.
When interrogated as to the motive
of his extraordinary conduct, the Sar-
matian magnate—a well-known spoils¬
man and patron of the circus—calmly
replied that “having been much di¬
verted by the clown’s feats he had felt
himself hound to fire a salute in Tan-
ti’s honor.” Shortly afterward the re¬
cipient of this strange compliment
quitted Russia.
Quite Superfluous.
Mr. Spooning—May I give you some
little token which will help you to re¬
member me?
Miss Tartlets—It isn’t necessary. I
have that tired feeling. — [Chicago
News Record.
Cremation is becoming popular in
Iialv. That country already ha*»
twenly-two crematories.
Iffy Saint.
My saint is a saint that few may k now
In that she Joes for us sinners below.
She is fair as faithful and faithful as f a ; r
With a halo encircling her beautiful Lair
She is full of wiles and moods as an elf
And yet is the spirit of truth itself,
In And the well light for of him the who halo his about burden her can bear!
hair.
Her face is a mirror where men may read
The truth that inspires her, thought a
* deed.
Her life is a life of devotion and care.
And she has a halo about her hair.
Her care is for others and not for herself.
And naught She recks of profit or pelf,
Enough fof her that her goal is won,
And she knows not her halo is bright ai
sun.
All things she does from the splendid love
That comes to her here from a power ahcJ
And I who adore her can hardly dare
To look at the halo about her hair.
— TW\ L IT Prnrfnr in T.nnI j
” ----— -
HUMOROUS.
The man who knows it all hasld
to learn. I
for A fat butcher should ho an anomaj flesli]
he is perpetually taking oil
It isn’t the man who blows ni
who finds it easiest to raise remaril the vij
“A word for a blow,”
the blacksmith, who had just ordol
his boy to start the bellows.
“It appears in railroad accitij
the lit st and last cars are always
ones injured.” “Why not leave (Ji
off the train?”
It is hard to please crerriod
Some men complain because they J
bald, and others because they flaw
the price of a liair-cut.
There was a fisherman polite I
Whose manners were so fine, § I
Where’er he went tocnlch a fish,
He’d drop him first a line. 1
A quarter of an inch diflerencel
the width of one’s shoes may turn!
open-hearted philanthropist into!
cranky and self-centred pcssiis/si I
Jeannette—Does Miss Boartlmani
her lovely complexion from herfuB
or her mother? Gladys (swecllw
From her father. lie’s in the dil
business. j
Mr. Naglcy—1 suppose you fliil
you never made a mistake since vfl
was horn. Mrs. Nagiev—I can’t*
that, but I haven’t made many due*
was married. j
“In heaven there is neither mm
ing nor giving in marriage,” qndfl
Miss 'Wallflower. “Ilow heoveiiljH
exclaimed Mr. Larimer, who it*
confirmed old bachelor. i
Baron—Then the obstreperous M
gar whom you turned out of
was coarse and abusive? Vaia
Abusive, my lord? lie might W
been your lordship himself.
She may have a little of this world’s pei
But life still pleasure brings,
And that’s when she has a day to herself
To go out pricing things.
“Mabel, this question of marri*i
a serious one that I Mabel—Oh, hope yon 'j
considered well.”
jes, auntie, I have worried
sick already about my trousseau.
Young Wife—What do you tbi®
my pie-crust, Jack? Jack ('
doesn’t wish to he as severe 3 s
case warrants)—Very nice, nay
ling; but didn’t you get the shorte*
in lengthwise.
Mother—Mary, go tip of in MraGj j
and get that photograph h'H
son and put it in that new
the piano. Mary—Why, nioiltfhl
do you want to put that homelfl
thing there for? Mother—Shei*4
ing to visit us tomorrow.
At a 6inall town in Kent a
man employed a carpenter to pn’l
partition, deaden and had the it sound. filled "h'J
dust to
was completed the gentleman carpenter pj ^
from one side to the
other. “Smith, can you hear <1
Smith immediately answered: 1
sir.” 1
Wealthy Amateur—Since y oD
_
to Jones and me about this |’ .
Cadmium, we have arrange oH 1*-J
of us will have it.
(brightening)—I am glad of d j
glad; glad your accoii 1 "
on *
Which of lias it? W. A® 4
you
Well, wc are going to pitch up
and the otic that loses takes 1
turc.
It is claimed that the large* 1
dock in tho world is at lkr ,nl, j
is 381 feet long and 123 feet