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~ WHO STAND AND WAIT.
The bare boughs stretch te the empty
sky, cold, solitary;
They writhe in the shifting blast, yet
cannot escape it;
So with my heart—the trees and my
heart are comrades of old. ‘
The winds of April are filled with the
joy of singing;
The blossoming peach-houghs feel the
touches of light wings—
Oh, that my heart sang, too, that my
winter were ended!
When the wheat ripens te harvest
and bends in billowing waves
to the wind,
Overhead the clouds pass, silent,
swift,
And their shadows darken the wheat;
liven so, in the glory of summer, there
passed o'er my life
That which darkens it evermore.
Glorious, gleaming on crimsons and
russets,
On yellows and greens, the autumn
sun;
The corn stands blcached in the rows,
In orchards the apples lie ruddy and
. cool,
Purple and heavy and fragrant the
grape-clusters hang—
Teo all the earth is the joy of fruitage,
“Yet &it 1 solitary, my heart unfilled.
—Martha 'l‘xir":bfim;mxett, in Lippin
cotl’s.
A TORPEDOED
TORKADD.
On Iriday Paul Matthews fou‘nd‘
himself within a few miles of hisi
home, at Fayette, in southeastern
Ohio, and he decided to drive over
and spend Sunday there. But Paul
Matthews and his wagon were not a
welcome sight in that region. The
town would not allow him to drive
within its limits, and he had to leavel
his wagon a mile outside.
This was due to no personal preju
dice. It was because he was by pro
fession a “well-shooter,” and that red
painted spring wagon, with the red
flag, carried thirty or forty pints of
nitro-glycerine, in <mall tins packed
snugly in padded frames. |
The business of the well-shooter is
well understood in the oil regions, and
his wagon becomes a familiar, though
always an alarming, sight. When an
oil-well ceases to flow, a charge of
high explosive fired at the bottom of
the tube will often stimulate it into
"activity again. It is the business of
the well-shooter to supply this stimu
lus, and he drives about from place to’
place with a cart-load of nitro-glycer
fne, and everybody allows him to take
the whole road when he passes.
Matthews had taken up the busi
pess from the natural propensity of
youth to run big risks for the chance
of large profits. He was growing ac
customed to the risks, but the profits
were not what he had expected, and
it had become distinctly unpleasant to
be a terrifying object wherever he ap
peared. Moreover, he found that the
continual presence and odor of the
nitro glycerine tended to produce vio
lent headaches and nausea.
He had left his wagon in a little
patch of woods to the west of the
village. The horses were staked out
by lang ropes, and every day he
walked out to feed and water them.
There was no danger of any one’s
meddling with that outfit. Its red flag
was protection enough.
A little after noon on Saturday he
went out to attend to his team,
through oppressive heat and dust. It
had been very hot for a week. A
little before noon a breeze had sprung
up, but with no,coolness in it, and
the sky had clouded slightly with a
————————— . ————— . —————, O —" —— S—— s s — W
coppery tint. The wind drove vas}}
clouds of dust in Matthews’ face as
/Ale walked up the road, and before he
reached his outfit he was convinced‘
that a heavy thunder-storm wasg
coming up.
This made him hasten to get
through his dutieg, for he had no de
sire to remain near his wagon during
such a disturbance. .A thunder-storm
is one of the terrord of the oil-dyna
miter, for, apart from the danger of
his wagon being struck, there is al
ways the possibility that a heavy
shock of thunder may explode the
cargd by mere concussion.
.When Matthews came out from
among the trees to take another look
at the weather, however, he was start
led by the appearance of the western
g¢ky. A dense bank of dark-blue cloud
was polling up rapidly, hlowing out in
ragged streamers, as if torn by a
powerful gale. Already it was reach
ing half-way to the zenith, and the sun
shone dimly thrcugh a reddish haze.
In a few minutes more this was
blotted out, and a strange and chilly
dusk fell upon the carth. The horses
were snorting and stamping with
fright. The storm developed so rapid
‘ly that Matthews at first had hax_‘dly
recognized its nature.
’ But now the indications were only
' too clear. Twice in his life he had
“seen tornadoes. They are not so com
‘mon in the middle West as upon the
plains, but veritable “twisters” do oc
casionally sweep across that region;
and it appeared afterward, in fact,
that this was a sort of offshoot of
the cvclone that almost wiped out the
town of Pike Springs on the same day.
It was coming apparently straight
toward Fayette, and Paul's first and
natural inclination was to run 'for
some shelter.
He was not much alarmed for his
own safety until the thought of his
wagon-load of expiozives occurred to
him. The shock of the cyclone would
certainly explode it. Should it go oif
where it stood, the resulting damage
would be comparatively slight; but it
would almost certainly be lifted from
the ground by the suction, and the
tins of nitro-glycerine dropped and ex
ploded all over the neighborhood.
They would certainly be carried to
ward Fayette, and the tornado itself
would be a comparatively minor pearil.
Matthews stopped and tried te think
of sometning tc do. A hole in the
ground, a cellar, would be the only
safe depository for the dangerous out
fit; but it struck him that the ravine
of Jackson's Creek might furnish a
substitute. :
The creek was a small one, but it
flowed at the bottom of a deep, nar
raw ravine which it had cut through
hard .clayv. If the wagon could be
placed in that gorge, he thought, it
would be pretty certain to stay there,
and do nothing worse than blow up
the creek-bed. But the creek was a
~mile away, in the direction of the on
| coming tornado.
~ Matthews did not stop, however, to
think of his fate if he were caught
half-way, or of the impossibility of
;getting the wagon safely down the
precipitous sides of the ravine should
'he reach it. He was used to taking
big chances, and this seemed the only
one, big or little. He began to hitch
up the horses with haste.
The animals were growing more
;and more uneasy, and it seemed to
take a terribly long time to attach
}them to the wagon. He jumped up
- on the seat and drove out toward the
! road. It was growing darker, and the
' wind was blowing a gale, thick with
dust, but the body of the tornado was
l still a long way off. It seemed to hina
| that he had a fighting chance of reach
l ing the creek; and in any event the
Ifarther he got from the village, tha
better.
I As he drove up the road he noticeg
’the cattle in the fields rushing about
and bellowing piteously with fright.
tHe dared not go faster than a trot,
;and the slow pace was maddening.
- He had trouble in holding in the
horses, and once he let them out a
little, till a heavy jar over a big stone
brought his heart thumping into his
hroat, and made him slow down
Igain.
But before he had gone a guarter
of a mile he began to see that he
~ould never reach the ravine. The
vind and dust were blinding, and the
horses were growing almost uncon
‘rollable with fright. In the turbulent
west the sky was all a bluish black,
sad in the ‘midst of it he thought he
sould distinguish a hugh, swirling
mass of inky darkness, the verdex of
the whirlwind, coming down at the
spe=d of an express train, It had grown
almost as dark as evening. The whole
sky was darkened, except for a strip
of livid pallor low in the east, like a
sinister dawn.
He cculd never make the creek, but
he might get far enough from the vil
lage to minimize the danger from ex
plosion. The tornado seemed several
miles away, and there were still a few
minutes of grace. Between the dark
ness and the fiving dust he could no
longer see the stones and rough spots
in the road, and growing reckless, he
let the panic-stricken team out a
little faster, becoming tco much excit
ed to think of the present risk. He
dipped into a hollow, where a stream
crossed the road through a culvert,
rattled up the succeeding elevation,
and pulled up short as he reached the
top, suddenly appzalled. :
The whole sky appeared to be fall
ing in, like an inky-black torrent, and
in the gloom he could make out the
gigantic, balloon-shaped cloud that
swept the earth with a grinding roar,
like the jar of some immense mill.
He jumped down, pulled out his
knife and cut the horses loose. They
sed down the road by which they had
come, and Matthews raced after them,
leaving the loaded wagon standing on
the top of the hill.
He had no clear idea of where he
was going till he reached the culvert
at the bottom of the hollow. He dived
into the low opening of the plank tun
nel, crawled a few feet in, and lay
flat in the mud and water.
For a few seconds he cowered
there, and quaked with fright. From
the opening at the end he could see
nothing but obscurity, and the air
seemed filled with cloud and dust.
For an instant there seemed a strange
lull, and then with redoubled and
deafening wuproar the cyclone struck
and went over. He was actually
dragged toward the end of the culvert
by the suction. ,
. One of the planks overhead was
ripped away and went whirling into
the air. The mud and water spouted
up round him. For one dreadful mom
ent the earth seemed ground under
some prodigicus force, and then the
darkness was split by a brilliant flash
and a paralyzing concussion. The
explosion was less a report than a
tremendous, shock, with a rending and
dislocation of the atmosphere greater
than that of the tornado itself. Then
the air seemed suddenly struck calm,
and a rain of every sort of wreckage
showered down—shingles, boards,
fragments of trees and pieces of fenc
ing.
In his scattered wits, Matthews
thought the center of the cyclone had
gone past, and he peeped through the
gap over his head. The swirling
black cloud was no longer in exis
tence. It appeared to have been split
iasunder, and to have bLroken into a
number of smaller eddies that swept
} the fields with immense velocity, but
with comparatively little force. The
i great vortex was broker, split by the
explosion as a waterspout is broken
by a cannon-shot. The tornado was
? blown up.
‘ The sky was already growing a little
light2r in the west, and a cold rain
“had begun to fall. Matthews watched
the relics of the whirlwind pass over
Fayette, and they did not look capa
ble of inflicting any serious damage.
He glanced back toward the hilltop.
Where the wagon had stood there was
nothing but an immense pit in the
earth. It would take much labor to
make that road passable again.
The storm, in fact, did nothing more
than uproot a few trees in Fayette,
ard it subsided after paosing. No
surtber damage was rcported Imoen B,
Maithews found omne of Lis horses ly
ing (ead a few rods ¢Cwn thhe roal.
Th other was captur2d unhurt a dav®
or two later by a farmer & couple of
miles away. As for the wagon and
and the well-shooting outfit, not so
much as a bolt or a splinter was ever
seen.
Matthews thought of demanding
compensation from the town, on the
cround of his services in wrecking
the tornado. But he abandoned the
idea eventually. He knew the char
acteristics of country villages, and he
was afraid that if the affair was
brought to their notice, he would be
asked to pav for the damage to the
road.—Youth’'s Companion. :
STRANGE HATSE OF THE EAST.
Same for Marriage and Same for
Burial. :
It is not an uncommon thing to
meet easterners in London streets
wearing their mnational head-dress.
They are oftentimes dressed in Eu
ropean mode with the sole exception
of their ha‘s. The latter anomaly
is the outcome of a struggle between
the eastern and westarn modes. The
west has not yet succe2ded in her
work against the hat. The hat exer
cises such a farreaching influence
in Asiatic life that its position is mot
easily assailed. A man’s hat is in
vested in the nearer east with a dig
nity which has no parallel in the west.
It is his lifelong companion, says the
London Tatler. He wears it not only
in the street but also at his fireside
and in his shop while working. The
Mohammedans go so far as to keep
their hats on while in their mosques.
Persons who are lacking in courage
and moral strength are reproached as
“pot being worthy to put on a man’s
hat because they will bring disgrace
to it,” and are advised “to put on in
stead their wives’ shawls.”
When a man has been staying away
from his town over long and his par
ents wish to bring him home they se
cure his hat and then procezxd to get
a maiden and make a]l arrangements
for the wedding. The prizst carries
-out the marriage ceremony on the girl
and the hat, and one beautiful day the
distant traveller learns that he is now
a marr’sad man, and as it is disgrace
ful in the Asiatic’s eyes to leave one’s
family in the care of others he hast
ens home.
In many countries of the east “wo
men must wiep.” There are towns
almost without a man. Persecutions,
heavy taxes, and debts of landowners
compel them to emigrate—always,
however, with the cherished hope of
earning enough money ‘to return to
their families; but, unfortunately,
some of them die in exile far away
from the paternal roof, and then the
hats of these unfortunate victims of
mistaken governments are sent back
to their families. They put it in the
coffin, the ordinary funeral ceremony
is held, and the hat is buried in the
family cemetery.
In the cemeteries of the Caucasus
and surrounding countries you come
across tombstones hearing the foilow
ing inscription: “Here is buried, the
hat of ———, was born m 18—, died
19—, in a foreign land. All who
read this please pray for his soul.”
‘lhe most important of Asiatic hats
are the following: The turban, which
is a piece of long white linen encir
cled round the head, and is used in
India and in Persia, in the latter only
by the priests. No Ch(is-tian inhabi
tants of those countries wear the tur
ban. In Turkey, however, the red
fez is worn by both Christians and
Mohammedans. Fur or ramskin is
the principle article of construction
in the hats. They are worn in the
Caucasus and in some parts of Persia,
and are very heavy and never wear
out. It must be understood that the
customs related her:z are preserved by
the older generations only. The new
generation is in every way copying
the manners of western civilization
and shedding the ancieat dress.
Some naturalists say that swans are
never hatched except during a thun
derstorm.