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?‘:‘ Advice to ung G a Young G 2z Man = & LG3 AR 1l é By Kate Thorn. é l == E have just received a letter from a young man in one of our | southern cities, and give it verbatim: I w “Madam: I am a young man of tweniy-seven; I am well I well educated, and of a good family, but I have no business. ' ====’:‘~—'-‘ How can I earn money? Ido not wish to work hard. 1 | » @ want something nice and easy—work for a gentleman. 1t ,\‘ | have thought of authorship—poetry, I prefer—but a friend X " tells me that publishers, as a class, are very stony-hearted, and find their chief delight in crushing aspiring genius, 1 want an easy chance, remember. Will you please advise me? . “Yours, ete,, Certainly, young man, we will advise you, with pleagure, We are delight ed to make your acquaintance, though you are not an original character, by any means. We know a good many like you, That is what most people are after—an easy chance, But having lived some time in this state of existence, we are enabled to remark, from positive knowledge, that this is a hard world to get an easy liv ing in. Still, our advice is yours, and welcome, Don’t think; don’t work; don’t try to; don't be a mechanic—all trades are overstocked. Machinery will very soon do away with all necesgsity for men. Don't be a clergyman; don’'t be a lawyer; don’t he a doctor; it is too hard for | a young man of your cloth to get up nights and go tramping ten miles over } the country to attend to boils on old women, and rheumatic tantrums in the | joints of old men, and internal revolutions in the bowels of collicky babies. | Don't be a mason; you might fall from=the top of a chimney, and be lost | to your native land, | Don't be a soldier; it is sometimes dangerous, and comfort yourself with 1 the old legend, “It is better to be a live dog than a dead lion.” Don’t paint--it soils the fingers: don't be a sculptor—using the chisel | would make you sweat. Don't be a drummer--you would have a bag to carry, Don't be a street car conductor—you would be obliged to swear at your mo torman. . Don't be a farmer—the mosquitoes would eat you up while you lay | under the shade of an umbrageous maple waiting for the hay to make, : 1 Don't marry 2 rich woman for her money, for if she has a grain of com mon £ense you will never see the color of a cent of it, and ten to one she’ll ' make you geét up in the morning and make the fire, while she lies abed and reads a popular novel, Don't be a poet. The demand for poetry has died out, and besides, there | are no poets nowadays, and “spring” is a theme weil worn out. Poetry worth | reading I 8 80 scarce now that the public would not recognize the genuine ar- | ticle if they should see it—llike June butter, it is out of fashion, Dan’t, be an author—for, you have been rightly informed, publishers are stony-hearted; adamant and the ‘legendary nether millstone are down com- ' pared to them. They would let you write six months, and spend the best blood of your life on the sorrows of some soulful Evangelina and her dark “browegd Frederick Augustus, and they would fling the MS. into the waste bas ket with no more feeling in the operation than they would evince toward a dead frictiof match. j ) me.v man, it is a hard world. If you had never been born, it wounld have heenqu ley in your pocket. There are no easy places yet discovered. | : ‘e would advise you to get a quarter’s worth of laundanum, swallow it, ! fl;d,jb to sleep. It would be as easy as anything you could do, and quite as satisfuctory to the community, ¥ No; wa don't charge anything for advice—New York Weekly, «"*ll X . R 0000000000009 0000000000000 i 4 “Things Go Wrong l . Oftener FROM EXCESS OF PARTY SPIRIT » THAN ERROR OF JUDGMENT. 4 i ™ e sh s ’ é By James Bryce, British Ambassador. S Dol et gy an iy : s 0O one seeing the faults that belong to popular government '; and the difficulties of bringing it up to the ideal which the , N theory of democracy sets up need be disheartened, not even i " by repeated failures. History shows that other forms of || government—autocracy andoligarchy—have their fanlts also, | and graver faults, You may find now and then a wise and i o e high-gouled despot who will do his best for his subjects, but e ayee there is no security, there is not even a probability that he will be succeeded by other despots of like virtue, You may have a prudent and skilful oligarcic government which will extend the power | of the nation in the world, but it is certain to govern in the own ¢lass inter ests, not in those of the people at large. This was the fallacy that led even s 0 eminent a writer as the late Sir Henry Maine to do injustice to democracy. i He pointed out its faults. He omitted to point out the faults of other govern ments, All governments have their defects. I Alhough the best institutions and the best administration system are | worth playing for and striving for, there is another thing even more important, I That thing is the participation in the work of government by the whole body of the people, Leaders, honest, capable, courageous men are just as neces sary in a democracy as in other forms of government, The people must seek ’ them out, must honor them, must give them, if their honesty is proved, its confidence. But the whole people must continue to watch everything they do, and never surrender its judgment or its votes into thelr hands, When things go wrong it is not so often from errors of judgment on the part of t:. people as it is from an excess of party spirit which has led them to follow biindly an unserupulous leader, or from an indifference and negli gence which has enabled unscrupulous and selfish men to pursue their own advantage at the expense of the public good. 0000000000009 0000000000000 | 5,000,000 | ’ ’ | Child Deserters | e A S ' By Charles F. Warner. 3 ! ORE than twenty million children attended the puble schools of the United States during the school year ending in June, 1907. From this vast army there will be at least five million deserters before the roll is called at the begin ning of a new school year. Why do so many children leave ~ the public schools before they have completed the elemen tary stages of the curriculum? Chiefly, 1 believe, because the schools, generally speaking, do not offer enough of the | kind of training which has an evident practical value. Dr. Kingsbury found in her inquiry into the relations of children to the industries for the special report on the subject issued by the Massachusetts Commis- | sion on Industrial and Technical Educution, in 1906, that many parents, when l their children reach the end of the compulsory school period, would gladly | make great sacrifices to keep their children in school if they were able to #ee any direct practical advantage in further school training. There Is something decidedly wrorg in a soclal system which permits large numbers of children to leave =chool and waste from two to four years of adolescence in unskilled labor for a wage so small that it can claim no consideration In comparison with the loss of opportunity that such children experience, not to speak of the physiral, mental, and moral damage that they may suffer~From “The Charitics and the Commons.” THE MIRACLE, Amoni the hills and valleys of the soul, Working his miracies, Love came to me And touched my blinded eyes and bade me sea. I watch the water redden in the bowl, & I drink the marriage <wine, Upon the saroll Of life T trace the word of prophecy. In flaming latiers; my mortality Burns on this altar as a living coal. . Many of Love’s discivles have pursued His wandering steps with worldly zims and wishes: Many have climbed, as for a festival, The ntm;}ntain where he feeds the multi ndie, ¥ For them the counting of the loaves and fishes, . For me-the wonder of the miracle! —Elsie Darker, in The Reader. 5 i HIS SPRCTACLES, } Thiey Creaied a Mew World Full of vetalls, i I am bothered about my speetacles. Since I have had them the world has been so different. Formerly I saw things only (or mainly) in the mass. People were not individuals, they were parts of a picture of blurred de tails. I spoke to this or that part of the composition, and voices answered me, What the voices meant, how the spot they came from looked (what expression was on the speaker’s face, as the cant phrase has it) were ques tions for intuiticn to answer. I lived in a world of vague suggzestion. I got almost more information from | the touch of a man’'s hands than from | the look of his eves. And yet I knew : the general meaning of faces quite well when they were near me-—«bet-l' ter, pethaps, than I do new. Lon don! You can imagine what London ‘ was like, evening London above all.' It swam in a haze of romancs,” won derful masses of cab, bus and man,‘ aglow with diffused light, loomed out | of mist and vanished into it. Clatter of unseen feet echoed up to my very ears. Life wag a perpetual surprise, an adventure., Who knew what faces would suddenly take form out ota’lhe void? I put on the glasses and looked at the optician’s young man and beheld that he -was wrinkled. A Horribly wrinkled. e was all wrinkles. His face wa’nothing but innumerable ugly lines and splotehes. Expression there was none that I could focus—llines and splotches were all that could be seen. i Would I keep them on? Or shotld he put them in the case? The fies bunched themselves up into hideous questiioning creases, . v I would kecp them on tu as to get used to them, I muttered, lub"u?fi scious of complete loathing. s The oblivious young man w&d “Yes, you'd better give your S a bit of practice before you stast reading, sir. Good evening, sis” Awith more creases).. . = b : T #®tepped out stupidly ‘into he street, shying at the doorpost, into the concentrated glare of electric lights that danced and flashed on the lenses of my spectacles. After a moment or two of dazzle I began to see. To see with terrible distinctness. The eyes began to ac cept this new universe. So awfully new! There was no background now, no picture, no atmosphere. Iso lated men and things to the furthest limit of vision stood out, rounded, raw and palpable. I could put my eyes on three sides of them. There was no street of soft-blending shad ow and gleam; there were only houses, lamp-posts, electric globes, vehicles, passengers. There were no men, only hats, coats, trousers, boots, jerking ridiculously. No faces— only features—and when they got nearer, labyrinths of ghastly twitch ing lines. No concrete thing at all —only irrelevant details of things which the painful vision kept pur suing with more and more minute ness. And yet my eyes had a feeling of pride-—pride that they could see so far, that these dots of men slouch ing under a lamppost before the Man sion House should vibrate so clear an image to Cornhill. They began, with something of an effort, to dis regard these insistent neighboring in dividuals and to shoot off into vast perspectives, to dally with details hundreds of yards away. This was a much larger world I had got. If it would only adjust itself, would be having. But as yet it was so pur poseless; every object was detached from its fellows, The old harmony was gone. Things no longer fitted in. Details thrust themselves upon me. I lost a glance at the soul of the passer through watching the twiteh of his lips. Then the faces began to simplify, lines assumed their proper subordi nation. I perceived men still had expressions. 1 perceived that they | had eyes, fearful eyes, thousands of eyes, surrounding me, looking at me. I was betirayed. 1 felt utterly em barrassed; almost I blushed at this infinite critical inspection, Rvery button and stitch of me knew iteelf for laughter. 1 felt that my hat was too small, my hair too long, that my boots were unpolished. I hastened to re-hat, clip and polish myseif, | 1 had come out of my ch:‘\’salfs.! For the first time I was nakedly within handsirike of the world, The novelty was intercsting. One was afraid of it all, but attracted by it. lln this world one was in constant danger of attack. A milltant world. Every man away down the street walked with his hand on his sword hilt. A brief fit of shivering, and my spirit rose to the challenge of it. I walked the pavement thrilling to the glance of these innumerable {dentities. Nothing has altered. The abjects ¥ Jook at are just the sama My eves are the same Only now two little pieces of convex pebble are fixed be tween the eyes and the objects. One takes off the spectacles and ex amines them for a solution to the mystery. Absurd! What easy vie tims ars our senscs of tHeir instru i ments! { It makes one uneasy. Tangible maiter cezses to bhe the steadfast thing we had imagined it. How can 1 be sure that what thess pebbles { show me is truer than my old vision? !A little difference in the curving of jthe lens, and lo! another universe. ! How can I be sure that both of them {are not quite untrue? ‘What is the standard? What do you see, readers, lonz-sighted, short-sighted, clear eyed, purblind readers? Upon what 'cort of universe do those unreliable cyeballs of yours look out? We have ziven common names to the things you and I see, but they are not the !sumc. Luckily there seems to be ' some sort of family likeness between them, else were we hopelessly cut 'off from all comparison. What you 'mean is somothing like what I mean by umbrella, but not quite. And ’whcn we talte more remote and com 'Hicated objects—when we combiae | ' them, when we begin to deal with ab giracts, how we must diverge! It is Eu::mnny to realize that each of us ?I]:(JV:’)S and lives and has his being in an entirely personal, particular, orizinal world. A place that was never seen or imagined by any one else, To realize that, though I may getihelp by comparving your notions with mine, in the last resort I must throw myself on the mercy of my ever-changing impressions. Which is the better world? The old one, vague but steadfast and or ganie; or this new, real, definite, anarchic world, with its perpetual shifting paradox? For, mark you, there is no world of the spectacles. The spectacles have opencd to me infinite panorama of worlds all different, all unbelievable. When was my state more gracious, think vou—before ‘'or after the spectacles? This question I have not quite der cided.—London Daily Mail. WESTERN FRUIT. i Great Development of Fruit Raising in the Northwest. California oranges, apricots, plums, cherries, grapes and other fruits have long been familiar to Eastern peo ple, who, if they have thought about the matier at all, have very likely regarded this influx of Pacific coast fruit as due to climatic conditio: 3 which do not exist elsewhere, and the fruit itself as incapable- of being raised in the East. ie Eastern apple, they may have su¥posed, was supreme and destined to remain so. Such pergsons are doomed to dis appointment. Apples from Oregon, Washington, Idabo and British Co iumbia have already captured the greater part of what is knpwn as the “fancy trade” of the Atlantia coast cities and the supply is increas. ing at a wonderful rate. Moreover, I Northwestern fruits are rapidly gain. ing the ascendancy in England, the Continent and Awustralia. The rapid development of the fruit growing industry in this region is due to the great fertility of the soil, the intellisence and energy of the Western farmers, and the co-opera tive organizations of growers. Poorl fruit has been discouraged and al most eliminated. Packing is in boxes, with every apple wrapped separately and warranted to be per fect. The number of apples which I a box contains is printed plainly on the outside, and there is absolutely no ‘“‘deaconing.” These methods have enabled the Western growers to realize a profit on apples and pears of SIOO to SIOOO an acre; on berries from S4OO to S6OO an acre, and on other things even more, One especially skilful grower of tomatoes received SSOOO from a single acre, The fruit pack of the region this year will be the largest in its his tory—five times as great as in 1906, Canning associationt have been formed and cauneries built to take chre of the surplus, 'fhey have been successful from the start. One can nery paid for itself in a week. There is no mystery about this remarkable development. It is due solely to intelligence, enterprise and hard work, and is just as much with in the reach of Eastern growers as it was in tke grasp of their Western rivals. The lesson ought not to be lost upon Eastern farmers who wish to retain such of their fruit market as still remains to them.—Youth's Companion, “At"” and “Across.” Disseniing from the opinion of most of his fellow-countrymen, Pro fessor John Lester, an English speak er, at a meeting of the Friends’ Educational Asgsociation, in Phila delphia, declared that the manners of boys in the United States were beiter than those of English lads. lThis he held was due to the influence '0( American mouthers and woman teachers in our schools. “The American boy,” said Pro fessor Lester, ‘'learns his first lesson in morality at his mother's knee. The English boy generally learns his across his father's.”"-——Woman's Home Companion. : An Unmentioned Ancestor, Mr, B, is very proud of his ancient lincage and never lets slip an oppor tunity to boast of it. At a dinner where he had been unusually ram pant on thla‘ subject a fellow guest quieted him by remarking: “If you c¢limb much further up your family tree you will come face to face with the monkey. '—Lippincott's MODEL STEPS INTO VENUS' SHOES, BADICE, ETC, ERFECT FIT. o £ o R S eS O g - i e s T ‘J l‘j:',“',!:'(', 4% '.-;7 j 3 AL RL )D EA WANo e v (A &1 "-"--"‘s‘-"*".‘»"’;: i.f"‘s%;““"‘f"i“v‘é"z'.r.'f.f 4 % : “?. AR LA R e AR o R A | o RA E L —-—'—-f&* g 1 | A 5 LBy f NTIA A 5 it VA ‘ ! A SRR o si AN 3B AR \ & iT AR TNA USN ¥ .s Y / ARG TR OAREN AT . Y 49 % 0 7| Lo RO i R 4(3’*: e S L = 00 & AR LA TR 4 - -.‘," .‘ t e 'fia iTAb AT N SWAN )N R VSR ey [RN4O S i 7t N ANy sl SRS e ;‘l 4 N R a 2 Beyo TR UGN ;.- Ait o e % W 4:;‘ S _4.&51“;'? 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Berger, the Cloak Model, Who H ors o ’ o e a Perfect Specimen of Physical W e T omanhood. Skirt Guard. One of the nuisances in connec tion with propelling a baby carriage or go-cart, as every mother knows, is the impossibility of preventing the skirts coming in contact with the dirty wheels; consequently, in time ruining it. How easily this can be / , '/M e 0 9 # V) xf\ .) “ 0 7 /7»' ] ", R % 0.0 V 4 4 s \\}X}“ 'r I, & o ¥ |,.{!i a‘u) E]g v ’' o - -f'm"///a / 7/’///\‘\ T ” < Y *’f@ A W =7 A . ¥ e fl' "‘-" ~ l@%fiiafi S ¥ /7 Z R ‘?ffi:‘.”*’*l‘lh’i"",m-\ ] Ml =SN 77 N// il ,(\_‘9’\ /’/«,,,‘-i' <xl 4 i) g 2 ”’//'.j =N 1 I Y s TN ’ avoided is shown by a Michigan man who has invented a skirt guard for the purpose. The guard is very simpi. in construction, consisting of a pair of wheel fenders in the form of a quarter-circle. These fenders are supported on brackets which ex tend from the body of the baby car riage and from the axle. They are positioned just back of the rear wheels. Instead of the skirt brush ing against the wheel, it strikes the fender or guard, being thus protected from the dirt which naturally ad heres to the tires of the wkeel.— ‘Washington Star. e Still Master of His Fate. When Learoyd, in the natural ups and downs of a literary career, went into a cheap—very cheap—New York restaurant for dinner, and found Da vol in a waiter’s apron, he was amazed-—Davol, the cleverest fellow in the class! ‘“You don’t mean,” stammered Lea royd, “that you have come down to this?” “Come down?” repeated Davol. “I don’t dine here, Learoyd. I merely wait.”—Youth’s Companion, The Interviewed. A stranger approached a little girl who was somewhat accustomed to in terviews with the usual question, “What's your name, little girl?” The little girl, without looking up from her sand pie, replied: *My name is Edith, and I'm four. She's my little sister; her name's Mildred and she's two. 1 don't want to go with you and be your little girl, and I know you ecan't steal my little sis ter."—Harper's Weekly. Machinery That Ran the Clermont, g(fg",? /r e . ."L (] 's,'ri" N f un ] ey W, =y _ 1 9 ; g My OSP e L LR ORI In g A S ,r‘;“;a\lk St I*{ NS - T 8 [el PN i It is interesting to contrast this picture ot the crude machinery with which Robert Fulton successfully ran the Clermont a hundred years ago with the present-day engines of our transatlantic liners, The plcture is from Technical Literature, -Russian Parallel to the Druce Case. The Grand Duke Nicholas Mikhail ovitch has lately issued in St. Peters burg a little work entitled “The Legend of Alexander I. in Siberia.” One finds in it curious parallels to the sensational mystery which Mr. Plow den is endeavoring to unravel. Thus, like the fifth Duke of Portland, the Czar Alexander I. is alleged to have led a double life and also to have arranged a bogus funeral of himself. The story has long been firmly cred ited by the middle and lower classes in Russia, and it has even received a measure of countenance from the best of Alexander’s biographers, Gen eral Schilders. Of this legend the Grand Duke has made a careful study, with the result that he shows conclusively by documentary and other evidence that it is a legend and nothing more.—Daily Graphic. Adjustable Handle. Woodworkers will be interested in a folding drawing knife recently in vented by two Ohio men. The draw ing knife, as shown in the illustra tion, has folding handles, capable of adjustment to a number of different positions. The knife can be folded inwardly to a position entirely out of the way, directly over the cutting edge of the knife blade, so that the knife can be handled in perfect safety when not in use. It occupies but little space when placed in a tool chest, and there is no danger of injuring the cutting edge. The construction et Sl 'W | M'On : i '\ < g | \§§\‘ ¢/ ‘. X OPEN. £ ‘also admits of the handles being set ‘at right angles, and at other angles, ‘giving the workman a wide range of adjustment, and making it possible to set the handles in positions best suited for special kinds of work. The means for locking the several ad justments assures rigidity, it being impossible for the handles to slip. Of Boston's new Aldermen one is a reporter, one a banker, one a car penter and another a blacksmith.