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Be Courteous to Your Elders Ey Beatrice Fairfax. ===y OT long ago I sat in the reception rcom of one of the big ’ hotels waiting for a friend. ! N Presently a- young woman and her mother came in and ! : took seats near me, 1-— - The daughter was a bright-faced, sweet-looking girl and ‘ '\P the mother was the dearcst little old lady you ever saw. ; Anything more beautiful and thoughtful than the daugh- L ==l ter's manner toward her mother 1 have rarely witnessed. 5 She brought a comfortable chair for her, put a cushion at her back, saw that her back was toward the light, every once in awhile giving her hand a loving little pat and saying, “Are you perfectly comfortable, dear—are you enjoying yourself?”’ They made a pretty picture, A little while afterward I saw another mother and daughter in the same hotel, but, oh, how different they were from the first couple. i *The mother was a sad-faced, patient-looking woman, who looked as though she had never had a good time or any petting in her life. That the daughter evidentiy looked on her as rather a nuisance was shown by the Impatient manner in which ghe answered any questions her mother put to her, Presently some young friends joined them., The mother stood patiently by until her daughter saw fit to introduce her, which she did in a negligent, disrespectful way, 4 The contrast between the first and second mother and daughter was so great as to be painful, There is nothing that shows a young person up in such a bad light as disrespect to an older person, If that person happens to be her mother or father is is doubly dis &’raceful. . When you see a young man or young womarf comfortably seated while an older person stands or hear them address an older person rudely you may be sure that they do not amount to much, As far as your mother is concerned you never can do enough for her, All that's good in you you owe to her love and care. If girls would only learn so be more friendly and confidential with their mothers it would be an excellent thing for them. It would save them from many blunders and heartaches. 850 tuany girls look on their mothers as too old to be interested in fun of any kind. And that is just where the girls make a great mistake, for the mothers would Tove to join in the fun and gaiety if any one were thoughtful enough to ask them to. If you treat your parents disrespectfully your friends will do the same. There is just one thing to e said in defence of the disrespectful child, and that is that the parents are to blame in the beginning. If a child in its younger days is allowed to go uncorrected for disobed fence, impertinence and wilfulness, i. is pretty sure to grow into o self-willed, disrespectful boy or girl. ; The greatest wrong that parents can do their children is to spoil and in dulge them. : : / They will grow into selfish men and women, and the parents will be the first ones to rean the benefit of their foolish training, : Treat your elders with courtesy and respect and your mother with the tender love and homaz_e that is hers by right.—New York Journal, t How Carnegie Has ] Wasted $12,000,000 ie e WA ‘ : By Richard T. Crane, JSr., " . ‘ Millionaire Manufacturer of Chicago. Cr vt o ’ Y ottt R Tp— HY do men like Carnegie and Armour put their money into B the technical schools, when their money was made by men o | w who had no sueh education? Look at the inconsistencies ,’ | between what Mr. Carnegie says and what he does. e I quote from Mr. Carnegie's “Empire of Business,” the £ o . | chapter headed “How to Win Fortunes,” written by Mr. Car <4 ] negie five years ago: “But the almost total absence of the technical school graduate from high positions in the business world seems - to justify the conclusion that college education as it exists seems almost fatal lo success in the business domain. The poor clerk and mechanic is the one - who rules.” Now, after all these illustrations, based on his own experience and ob cservation, in favor of practical men against technical men—against the grad « uate—Mr. Carnegie enters into the fleld of pure speculation and backs his . fancy to the extent of a $12,000,000 technical institute. ‘This is only a whim of Mr. Carnegie’'s, He might take his $12,000,000, add $12,000,000 to it and - throw the whole into the ocean, and this country would be better off. Is it for the begefit of the publi¢ to turn out men who will be distanced by clerks _and mechanics? Has he taken the sound business course? I would call his _ Institute the Carnegie Twelve Million Dollar Blunder. B Now, I wish to say that I give Mr. Carnegie a chance to answer this . attack, 1 wrote him a letter and told him what 1 was going to do and asked him four questions. 1 agreed to read his answers,but I have had no response * from him. These were the questions I asked him: ¥ Do you owe your success in business to the technically educated men in your employ or to those not so educated? G If you owe your success to the technical men what is the proportion of © these men in your employ to the men not so educated? 4 Havé you observed in your business life that technically educated men © are more successful than those not so educated? ¥ The best education is long experience and observation in an up-to-date v:faiwry." He continued: *“Four years in the shop is the training to get.” ) All an apprentice needs is to understurd English, be able to write and do . Plain arithmetic and draw. He can get this at the night school or at home, Abolish Shut-up Rooms g A 3 . By Mrs. G. Taylor Brown. % HERE are homes, especially among the farm homes, whose parlors are closed rooms to the family except during the I, . spring and autnmn cleaning time. Then curtains are raised - | and cobwebs swept down, and the rooms are shut up again, e Children from such homes, unused to the furniture and best things in the house, show it very plainly when in other par ‘ lors. Now, parents, we shall go this way but once. Our = children will soon be grown and out from the home. [ would 3 prefer to sée the carpet faded near the windows rather than eaten by moths in the dark. Three'years ago a teacher was living in our Tamily, aud he organized a social purity club, meeting one evening in a week. There were fifteen or sixteen. members in it. The house was all open, and such guod times as they had! True, some mud was brought in. It was some work to sweep and dust after, but it paid. Let us give them pleasant remem brances of a sweet, cherry home that they can treasure through life. Light up all rooms. Invite in a few of the little ones to spend an evening. Lay aside the work you are doing. There is time enough for that. Play the sim ple games, pop the corn. Never mind a little scattered. Never mind the little feet that lightly. mar the chairs. This is a trifle compared to keeping our children in the home instead of seeking pleasure in places we do not know. So open the rooms and make bright and happy the lives God has given to your keeping, and if no little ones dwell under your roof invite some to make you young and happy again yourself. Surely it will do it, and we ega not take our furniture and carpets with us when we leave this earth. Let us ~ Wear them out in making some one happy here and now. No closed parlors M?fl!clm rooms for me.—From The New York Tribune Farmer, 4 LITTLE FELIOW'S TIMFE. “When you were little mg&f@i A little fellow's Lime? = "= That is—l mean—a gngpviu" swing , And gnarly frees to climb, And awkward-legged calves 1o chase, And yellow chicks to hold. ; "?- And an old. hissing gander. too, . To scare you stifi :nd cold? ' Say, did you have a little Jamb, And colt, all for vour own. 3 And an ald cow's sleek sides Lo stroke, And an old bowider-stone Beside the kitchen ooy wwhereon You, a wee yellow-head, ; Were wont to st and swing vour heels And eat your ‘lusses bread ? And was there, too. an old ray mare, A “Dobbin™ or a “Kit.,” On whose broad hack, with daddy’s help, Yon used sometimes to sit And 'ride away down to the creek— Iy which she used to wade Am{ thrust her noge until you screamed, It made you so afraid? A mother and grandmather, too? A grandpop and a dard % To take you with them to the fields And woods and make vou glad With goblin stories, told g 0 deep, You didn’t eare to eheep: And nights did they just fairly fuss To smuggle vou to sleep” 0. meadows, fields and wooded ways, And creeks of long azo! O, awkward calves, and hissing geese, And cows that used {o Jow! What -pleasant memories ve make When age bows down the head Of him who., just a kilfed habe, There ate his ’lasses hread! ~—dJ. M. Lewis, in Houston Post. A STORY OF THE DEAD-ROOM. “I presume, doctor, there are many sorrowful gcenes whioh present them selves in your profession,” T remarked to the surgeon of our reziment, ag I spent an evening in his tent, while Wwe were in camp, “Yes, indeed,” he replied, with an air of nonchalance. “But, then, cap tain, you are a soldier, and you know how a fellow will get used to most anything. You do not shudder now at seeing dead men lying around loose as you used to do, do you?” “Well, no,” I replied, “that is too true.” “I remember one incident in my life, when a student of medicine in a_ New York college,” continued the doctor, “that has never heen erased from my memory. It is full a quar ter of a century since it occurred, and yet I remember it well. I would to Heaven it could pass from my mind. “‘War is full of horrors,”” continued the doctor, “and I have been in hos pitals where the shrie:;s of the wournded and the groans the dyf‘ng mingled, and went about my Husi ness almost as the weaver listens to the sound of his looms. But this is .a story of the dead-room, where t‘hp sound is heard but the sharpening of the scalpel and the almost noiseless tread of the surgeon. . “Among the professorg i 1 the med fcal college at i{hat time was Dr. F—, -an English surgeon. He was a man of brilliant attainments, both as a scholar and as a surgeon. “He was probably sixty vears of age, and had no family, ai least he never spoke of one. Why he left his native land, and why he hardly ever smiled, no one seemed to know, and | probably no one cared to ask. We, as students, paid our money for a kno vledge of medicine and surgery, and did not trouble ourselves about the history of those who taught us. | “The winter season of lectures had commenced, and students from nearly | every section of the United States were in the city to attend them. Sub jects for dissection were required, and sometimes, iike other articles in the market, the supply exceeded the demand, and at other times the dead room was short. Body-snatchers were employed at the current rates,‘ and were paid for the bodies fur nished by the law of supply and de .mand. Subjects were scarce and in demand the winter I have named, and ‘ prices rose accordingly. “I happened in the English profes sor's room one morning to examine a medical work that required my at-J tention, A gentle rap came on the‘ door, and the doector said, ‘Walk i | “1 knew the visitor and his calling at a glance. His soulless eyes glanced cautiously around the room, and then he asked, in a whisper: * ‘All right, doctor?’ | “‘Yes; one of my students,” re plied the surgeon. " “Have a fresh stiff, doctor. Found it floating in the harbor at daylight this morning. Female, about fifty, and good form. From an English{ vessel, no doubt.’ " “What is the price?’ asked the surgeon. ¢ ‘ * ‘Cannot deliver it at the college for less than a hundred,’ was the re ply. | * ‘Too much,” answered tha sur geon. ‘You are above:the market.’ | " ‘Sorry we cannot agree,' said thel man, with a scoWwl; ‘but the fact is, doctor, no class of individuals takes! such risks and work as hard for our money as us fellers, and mostly for the benefit of science.’ . . “He was about to depart when the surgeon called him back. “ ‘Make it seventy-five and vou can bring the subject.’ * ‘Sorry, doctor, but I can't. You see, Jim and I is in partnership in this stiff, as he happened in the boat with me, and when We come to divide the matter it will be oniy fifty each. We honestly earned every cent we ask.’ 3 * ‘Well,” replied the surgeon, ‘brtnti the subject to the dead-room to-night, . and your price shall be paid.’ 1 _ “The following Gay the professor announced in his morning iecture that a fine female suliject had been obtained, and that in the afternoon he should dissect it in their presenca and for their benefit in the science of obstetries, A full class and a careful hearing were demanded. “The subject hal been placed on the dissecting table in the dead-room, and a white sheet carefully secured it from view., A full class was in attendance at the afternoon exer cises., “The professor dwelt with warmth upon this delicate branch of medical gcience, and said the theme was pro found and in part reveaied the won der of our creation. “Stepping from the plaiform with scelpel in hand, he then advanced to the table, removed the sheet from the corpse, and while gazing on the face of the dead woman, the color left his cheeks, the scalpel shook in his hand, he gasped for breath, and said: “* “Jane! Jane! Great Heaven, it is Jane!’ and fell in my arms. “Restoratives were applied to his bloodless lips, and when he had re covered sufficiently to speak, he said: ‘“ ‘Gentlemen, I am ill. There will be no dissection this afternoon. Leave the room. To-morrow meet me at the usual hour.’ “What became of ihe dead body we never learned. It was removed that nigbt—by whom-and where to was never known by us. The surgeon also disappeared that night, and never en tered the college again. What be came of him always remained a mys tery. He may have departed for Europe in the morning upon some vessel leayving port, or he may have comitted suicide. A body resembling the doctor was found floating in the East River some weeks after, but it was too much decomposed for identi fication. “The mystery connected with the dead-room never was fully explained. Rumor had it, but it was never fully confirmed, that the doctor's wife had deserted him in England many years previous to this event, and ran away with a British sea captain, and that the doctor came to America under an assumed name. Being a skillful sur geon, he readily attained the honored rank he held. 3 “How the woman met her untimely death no one ever knew. Her para mour may have grown tired of her, as is the general result, and she may have welcomed death in a watery grave, or she may have accidentally fallen from the ship’s deck. That she was the doctor’s wife there can be no doubt. ' “Now captain;” continued the doc tor, “I have told you the story of the dead-room. The mystery connected with the affair can only be left to conjegture.”——New York Weekly, A Profitable Crop . « in the Northwest By A. E. DICKEY. The second factor making for the new prosperity may be termed ‘‘the discovery of flax.” lor years there had been a few scattered flax fields, but it was only in the middle nine ties that the Northwestern pioneer awoke to the discovery that linseed oil was of a more truly golden hue, not only than the wheat field, but than any gold-bearing quartz Cali fornia ever saw. And so the endless golden yellow of the fields of wheat gave place to the blue flowers in August and the tinkling bells in Sep tember of the flax field. Those who have never heard the ringing of the flax bells have missed a truly wonderful sensatlon. The round seed pods, smaller than peas, which contain the seed, givé a faint metallic sound which as one drives or walks through a field, setting thousands in motion, seems like my riads of infinitesimal hells tinkling so faintly as to be all but inaudible. Nor is the mere sight of a flax field in the mellow August soon to be forgotten. Jmagine a hundred-acre field, filled with flowers of a blue more delicate than violets. And of its profitable character one illustration will suf fice, In June, 1900, Ole Jansen bought a hundred and sisty acres in the heart of the great flax belt for $lO an acre on the crop payvment plan. Ole “‘broke up” that fall and the next spring a hundred and thirty five acres and planted it in flax. In round numbers, he threshed in the fall eighteen and one-half bushels to. the acre; sold it for $1.391% a buishel; total, §3500; a little more than twice enough to pay for his land out of his first crop. Not only was the flax immensely profitable it self but it removed from the coun try the stigma, ““one crop country,” —From The World Tc-Day. ! Niagara's Age, This question, always interesting for the light it throws on the past history of the earth, has had .many answers. The latest is that of Dr. J. W. Spencer, who, from recent studies on the spot, finds that the mean rate of recession of the falls at present is 4.2 feet per year, and that this has been the rate for approximately 227 years. But owing to the fact that originally the waters of Lake Erie only were discharged over the falls, giting but one-fifteenth of the present water supply, the rate of recession was at first much slower. A sudden widening of the gorge over Faster's Flat indicates the position of the falls when the other Great Lakes be gan to discharge into Lake Erie, From his data Dr. Spencer calculates the entire age of the falls at 39,000 years. The cutting, with the full power of the four lakes, is estimated lto ‘have lasted 3500 years.—Youth’s Companion, ; , ; : - . fi\':"'?r;7'3'~fb‘,'l“.) B Py, =22 D Boy Rl R RS I AW v®, R T GNP S RN x £ oA & ")"c’ "f/@ W, e o : oy ! ’?"‘s@9\)[ 21/ : 85, | !)‘“q‘f" |J/ s -, 4 - & ¥ @ - EA o TIR g — (& Fai oRy 57—t L% P =R ,9}‘,3@s‘. . » 5 Motherhood. The new movement for the teach ing of motherhodd is one which ap peals alike to the humanitarian, to the biologist, the physician and the patriot.—Lady’s Realm. The Favorite Girl, She is the girl who is not “too bright and too good” to be able to find joy and pleasure all over the world. She is the girl who appreciates the fact that: she can not always have the first choice of everythingin the world. She is the girl who is not aggres sive and does not find joy in inciting aggressive people. She is the girl who has tact enough not to say the very thing that will cause the skeleton in her friend's closet to rattle his bones. * She is the girl who, whether it is warm or cold, clear or stormy, finds no fault with the weather. She is the girl who when vou in vite her to any place compliments you by looking her best. She is the girl who makes this world a pleasant place becanse she is SO pleasant herself. — Indianapolis News, Coeds as Nurses. At the University of Washington some of the coeds have been earning money- by taking care of the faculty babies. THese are the children of members of the faculties, whose wives occasionally want to get away from the cares of home life. Many of the girls have found it possible to earn money this way. “It isn't much trouble,” said one of them. “If you can get a well be haved child to take care of you can manage to do some studying even while seeing that the children are amused. Of course some of them don’t give you time to do that.” 1 ‘Washington is the same institution where it was arranged recently to have rowing and track athletics for the women students under the direc tion of the regular athletic trainer who has charge of the men. Outside of Sage College, at Cornell, and Wel lesley there are no women'’s colleges thtat go in strong for rowing.—New York Sun. Missouri Woman a Deer Slayer. Mrs. Winifred Witt, Linn County’s oldest inhabitant, is ninety-eight years old. One day in the early for ties Mrs. Witt was engaged in wash ing on the banks of the Grand River, as was the custom of the early set tlers, when the baying of a pack of hounds thd her that they were close on their prey and coming in her di rection. She was standing near a ford on the river bank, used by man and beast, and not knowing the character of the game, she hastily armed her self with a stout club and secreted herself behind a large tree just as a full grown deer camedashing through the woods. Waiting until it had par tially descended the steep bank, she delivered a powerful blow from her club at the base of the animal’s ant lers and it dropped to the earth, and before it could regain its feet the dogs were upon it and bore it down to rise no more.—Linn County Bud get. Lydia Languish Lives in Dozens. “Horrors!” exclaimed one of ihe breeziest little matrons in Manhattan yesterday as she read a note from a woman friend. ‘‘Something is hap pening that I only half notice until Elise, in this gossipy little serawl of hers, sharpened its significance. Do you know (impressively) the Lydia Languish type is coming back? Fact! All you have to do is to g 0 to the opera for yourself or to drop in at any fashionable affair. The type isn’t noticeable so much among this sea son’s debutantes, though the crop has its sprinkling of it, as in the ranks of former years. Names, of course, are out of the question, for no girl would consent to recognize herself in such guise, yet the fact remains that the lorg, lank, willowy, weepy, die-away young woman of Sheridan’s satire is as much alive to-day as she was in the good old times when Bob Acres blustered and paint,- powder and patches were in style. Her fashion is different, of course — she has changed outwardly with the times— but at heart and largely in manner she’s the same. And, what's more, in spite of all fhat's written and said about the popularity of the athletic girl, secretly the men adore the Lydia Languish of the twentieth century as devoutly-as their great-great-grand daddies did her ladyship of their own time. They fraternize with the nut brown maid of the tennis court and shooting range, but they give their seuls’ devotion to languid Lydia—of ‘ten, indeed, even when they end by making more sensible matches.”’— New York Press. Sweethearts and Eyes. The group of friends stood admir ingly before the latest picture by a well-known illustrator, which oraa mented the wall of the bachelor girl. It represented an exceedingly athletic young man in the act of engulfing a fluffy-rufled young lady and -imprint ing a passionate salute upon her~‘up turned lips. The young ladies gushed over it with enthusiasm, while the men agreed that it was very lifelike, “There is one serious defect in the picture,” announced the bachelor girl, after the first outburst. ‘‘The artist has made one serious mistake at which I am surprised. Can any one pick it out?” All agreed that it seemed perfect. “Don’t you see that the girl's eves are open?”’ said the bachelor girl. “What girl, I ask you, ever received a real kiss, such as is portrayed here, with her eyes not blissfully closed. A woman always closes her eyes when she is kissed by the man she is fond of. The women all agreed that the criticism Was true, and said how strange it was they hadn’t noticed it, while the men glanced at each other with looks which admitted their own stupidity. | “Now, as to whether the man's eyes ought to be closed, I don’t know, ’as I have never noticed.”” And then | the bachelor girl was suddenly over ' come with confusion as a chorus of ldelighted shrieks and shouts arose from the assemblage present.—New !York Press. e ! v R Some Latest French Styles. Grace Margaret Gould, the fashion expert, who has recently returned to this country from Paris, writes in Woman’s Home Companion: } “Striped materials continue right on being fashionable, and the woman ‘ who needs a gown and one which she can wear for a long time to come need ‘ have no hesitancy in selecting a striped silk or striped voile for her gown. | “In planning an evening costume ‘there are one or two things which it ;is wise that she bear in mind. The first is, short-waist effects are the vogue. Now, if she can have but one evening. gown, it is better to select something that is not too extreme. 'Let us take it for granted that she ‘doesn’t care for an Empire gown such as fashionable women are wear ing in Paris and New York to-day. On the other hand, she doesn’t wish to spend her money for a new evening dress and not have it reflect in a measure the new fashion tendencies. “In this case et her try the high Empire girdle, which will give her gown the fashionable short-waisted 100%k.7 1 ¢ A “Skirts are long and extremely, close fitting over the hips. The trim ming is all toward the foot. Evea such filmy materials as tulle and chif foe cloth are often made up with a band of velvet at the bottom. Entre deux of filet met strikingly embroid ered in coarse silk flosses are the fashion as skirt trimmings, and when they are used in this way a touch of the same embroidery is introduced in the blouse. “Veiled effects are very fashiona ble, and the skirts of many of the latest evening gowns show very lovely changing effects. For example, a skirt of pale blue chiffon will be made up over a pale blue silk or satin foun dation, but just to give it an unusual little touch there will be other chiffon skirt between the outer one and the silk foundation, and this will not he of blue.” —— e 4 L;‘_;i"’, 3 Dress in Holland. ; The women'’s costume is a trifle too complex for verbal description, as feminine belongings usually are; but the white lace cap which coverg the head from eyebrows to nape of neck and from ear to ear, curving out in rounded wings on each side of her cheeks, is always a conspicuous and inevitable portion of a woman's at tire. It may possibly be that on Sun day this cap is a trifle whiter or stiffer or daintier than on week-days, but the difference is not very apparent. The ladies assure us there is a vast difference in the quality of the net and the amount of hand work em ployed, but the lens made no special note of that. In shape and outline the eamera finds great distinction between these caps and those of Katwyk or Marken or Bois le Duc, but between Sunday and Monday caps in Volendam it records none what ever. For the rest of the costume feminine Holland asks above all things, apparently, a very flat, narrow chest surmounting enormous hips, and Volendam is no exception to this tashion rule. The invariable black “best waist” of the elder women is usually brightened by a square voke of lighter color and material, and the dark apron or overskirt is topped by six inches or more of gay plaid or bright-colored band, worn over an underskirt of dull-blue striped or black material and uncountable petti coats. About the throat a collar formed of many rows of heavy, dark red coral heads is fastened by huge silver clasps, and the number of rows, the size and quality of the beads, are matters for feminine pride. Long hair is not the glory of woman in Hol land, save, perhaps, at Marken. It is usually hidden, and at Volendam is cut quiie close and entirely covered by a tight-fitting thick blac'- silk cap concealed beneath the snowy white lace. The younger girls, from the tiniest toddler to the young meisje old enough to wed, wear dresses and caps the exact counterpart of their grave mothers, no less full of skirt or narrow of chest, but much gayer in color. A group of tiny maidens in a gtiff breeze on the dike resembles notzing more than a swarm of but terflies.—Scribner’s Magazine,