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[ REMEMBRANCE, iyt - ———— s { The happiest moment of my life? vy The eweetest sound I ever heard? = Once, in a hush divine, + . Ab, rest from agony! + Her little ha#, like homing dove, j 9 . Ah, precious poignancy of life— : Stole softly into mine. 4 I My first-born’s earliest cry! i e Ajla —Harper’s Bazar, SN D A s A " A RUSSIAN JUDAS, His eyes followed her till she dis appeared through the doorway of the brilliantly-lighted mansion, then he turned slowly down the neatly grav eled walk, and bitterly he cursed his lot, : Heretofore his mind had been so bent on winning what was to him the fairest flower of Peterhof, that he had not paused.to consider his cir cumstances. Now, to-night, when he had won her, he suddenly awak ened to the fact that he was far from being in a position to claim the prize. What was his paltry allowance as a Cossack of the Imperial Bodyguard? Could he ask her to leave the lavish wealth and comfort of the great man sion of one of Russia’'s aristocrats to starve on his small salary? Never! The very idea maddened him. And yvet hope was there of much improve ment in his circumstances? She had exhorted him to be pa tient, and hope for something to turn up. She had reminded him that thé government was liberal in rewarding special services. ‘“‘Speciai services.” Ah, yes, why not? Might he not be able to ferret out something of value? He knew the humor and policy of the govern ment. He would keep his eyes open. Weeks passed into months before anything unusual occurred to give Ratinoff the slightest chance to dis tinguish himself. Then, one morning he was delighted to find that he had been intrusted with an important commission to a distant province. He accepted with a light heart. He saw in this chance the touch of her pretty little hand, and immediately he was on his mettle. Most of the way had to be made by the use of relays of horses, for it was through a part of the country where railroads were almost un known. All went well until the return was being made, then the spring rains set in, and for days it poured almost continually. The mud became dreadful. The roads in some Pplaces were almost impassable, Rat inoff fumed and stormed at the very poor progress that was being made.; He carried a bundle of important papers which must reach St. Peters ‘burg- at the earliest moment;. -the earlier, the more likely téxrvemlt,.ta-.{ vorably for the carrier. The stake was.tremendous. It was not merely the winning of favor with the gov ernment; it wasn’t merely loyalty on the fatherland; it was, indeed, to him slmost life itself, for what was life without the one dearer even than life? ' Cruelly he urged the driver to show ne mercy to the plunging horses. But the driver was keen witted and stubborn, and absolutely refused to kill the horses; though he left them half dead where each fresh relay was secured. i The rain continued, and the roadsl became more boggy every moment. “You tell me,” said Ratinoff to the driver, “that there will only be one more reiay of horses hefore we reach the railroad?” , ‘‘Just one’” was the reply. ~ “Then man, let me beg, in the' name of God, that you put them through for all they are worth for the rest of the way. Don’t you really think, now, that tris pair can safely do a little better than that? It won’t be very far now till they .are relieved.” Thus appealed to, the driver for | the first time became a little reck iless. He whipped up the horses, and they plunged more wildly forward. The road here was scarcely distin guishable from the boggy morass which flanked it. The mud and water were everywhere. Even the skilled driver was as yet unaware that they 'had really rea-hed the boggy ground. (Ratinoff sat intently watching the 'struggling horses, with lips shut tight in grim determination. The driver, ‘'with sidelong glances, was watching him. He saw the terrible anxiety, he saw cruel suffering when the | horses showed signs of lagging. | “Go on! Go on, boys!” he | shouted, and again he plied :he whip. The horses sprang forward, but with the first jump the nigh horse plunged desperately, paused, seemed to settle back on his haunches, made a last supreme effort, and then fell forward in the mud. “Th® morass!” shouted the driver, as he leaped down into the mud, and began hastily to unhitch the horses. r The Cossack also jumped into the mud without a moment’s hesitation, and worked with a skill which almost equaled the driver’s, After a long, hard struggle, they succeeded, by using ropes attached to the traces of the free horse, in drawing the poor beast up onto the road again. But the mishap had al most completely exhausted the al ready tired animal, and progress after that was exceedingly slow, At last they did reach the station where the fresh horses would be ready for the last stage. Ratinoff told the driver to get out the others. l and he would unhiteh these In a-moment the driver returned, and his face was full of dismay. “What's wrong?” asked Ratinoff quickly. ‘““There is only one fresh horse. The other one is completely used up on one leg.” ‘““Can he not go on it at all?” “No, he can't even stand on it.”’ “There is only one thing to do,” said Ratinoff—cool in his despera tion—*"bring out the good horse, and put him in place of this night one, and we’'ll do the best we can.” “But it will kill that off horse to take him on,” was the sulky reply. “It can’t be helped; bring out that horse.” The cool determination of the Cos sack won, and they were soon press ing on. The rain came down in tor rents. The road was often fiooded. After a struggle of hours they came in sight of the river. The driver gasped, and went pale. “The bridge!” he exclaimed. “The bridge will be gone. The poor old thing could never stand that. See the torrent of water!” “It’s there still! Yes, it's chere!” shouted Ratinoff, as they rounded the bend. “The frame is still there, but the planks will be gone, for the water is over it. We can go no farther.” ‘““Nonsense, man, don’t say that; we must go on. There might not be one plank gone.” “What’s that down there?” and the driver pointed below. : 000b&6000000000600000.00.0.060000050OQO0.0000- bt...bt.bt...bb.bb.“hbg 2 = . , : OUR HIPPEN WEALTH. 3 : St e 3 We have been hearing a good deal lately of hidden wealth. Lor(x»: 3 Cromer, in a recent speech, gave curious examples of the Egyptian ¢ 3 custom of hoarding. Over there a man buries his fortune in his garden: . 4 and—what is so wonderful to us—seems able, nevertheless, to sleep o * 3 nights. Our American cousins, in the stress of their present financial e 3 troubles, appear to have been doing something similar. They find their ¢ 3 cupboard or their stocking a safer place than their banks. Hoarding is & 3 anold and a wide-spread habit. The traveler in Armenia, or any other & 4+ of the Turkish provinces, hears continually of hidden treasure. The ¢ $ people who own it dress poorly and live in mean houses. They know ¢ 3 that the slightest hint of riches would bring on them the raider, or, e 3 still worse, the Government official, whose one idea of governing is & 4+ plunder. 2 3 And, indeed, most of the world’s wealth is hidden. We have only ¢ 3 as yet scratched the surface of our property. If only our small free=iig 2 holder, on his fifty acres, knew all there was ‘beneath it, and how to get ? ¢ at it, every foot of his land might be more valuable than Lombard & 3 street. That is what makes prospecting the most fascinating of pur- e 3 suits. So marvelously stored is our planet that at any moment we § $ may stumble upon Golconda. And what is more important here than % 4 the body’s march in search of treasure is the march of the mind, for we : 3 possess in proportion as we know. For untold ages savage tribes e 3 roamed the Western Continent, and were as poor at the end as at the 4 3 beginning. The white man, occupying for a century or two the same § ® space, by his science makes it the richest part of the globe. That is g} 3+ why we are as vet only at the beginnings of wealth. The mass of it lies 3 buried in the as yet unknown qualities of things. What do we know of ¢ 1 2 the possibilities of heat and light, of the water in the sea, of the wood of § 4+ the table we are writing on? Everywhere there are glimpses of un- T 3 tapped forces, of transformation of common things, more wonderful in ¢ 3 their potentialities than the miracie of Aladdin’s lamp or of the philos- « 3 opher’s stone.—The Christian World. z r :-01900099000099»09000090#900900000400909090099900090900ooooooooooooofi" ‘““Well, that’s only one. There might not be another gone.” “Well, I'm not 'going to try to find out, for.even if there were planks enough to cross on, we couldn’'t do it. The frame wouldn’'t stand the strain. The water alone won’'t let it live two minutes longer.” Instantly the truth of this state ment flashed upon the mind of Rat incff, “Say,” he whispered, ‘do you think I could make it on foot?” “It might just be possible, but only a fool would try it. There is only one chance in a hundred.” Ratinoff sprang from the carriage, and strapped the leather wallet around his neck, “Keep to the edge, and always keep hold of the framework,” shout ed the driver. ‘God-bye, and God preserve you.” | Ratinoff ran forward with one arm around the side rail. The water was up to his knees, and icy cold, but he scarcely heeded. Deeper and deeper got the water as he neared the cen tre. Presently his foot dropped into an opening, but his arm around the railing saved him. TFor almost two rods there was scarcely a plank intact, and he worked slowly forward on the frame-work. The water was | rising every moment. He feared the crash would overtake him, and he hurried forward. The water was above his waist. He was within two rods of the end when he heard a crash behind, and felt a swinging motion begin. He thought of letting go the frame and making a wild dash, but he dared not. He struggled on, his eye ever on the end of the frame work, which he expected every mo ment to break from its fastening on the shore. The dusk of evening was quickly settling, and his eyes were full of spray, but yet he clearly sawl the quivering timbers wrench them- | selves free. He let go, and ran wild-! ly forward. Already it had left the | shore. He jumped as best he could in the boisterous waters. He struck bottom in water which almost reached to his shoulders. He :stag-l gered up the bank and reached the | solid ground, only to find himself utterly exhausted. An icy numb ness was stealing over him, He saw a light in a cottage some dlstance ahead, and shouted wildly. The next. instant he was lying in the mud, completely unconscious. When at last his eyes opened he stared in a dazed sort of way at the ceiling of the rough cottage, and at the peasants who were bending over him. In a moment he remembered and nervously felt for the wallet which was lying by his side. “It's all right, sir,” remarked the owner of the cotiage. ‘“We haven't. touched it at all.” The Cossack, thus assured, heaved a sigh of relief, and soon dropped off to sleep. When next he awoke it was with the sound of voices in his ears. He listened without so much as opening his eyes or moving a muscle. : - “Yes, but it must be clearly under stood .from the first that there is to be no meddling with means which are violent or unlawful. Grievances against our government we certainly have, and I am quite willing that we shall meet here in a neighborly way to talk about them, but it must be distinctly understood that no hothead will be allowed to speak rash and violent words which can only result in harm.” Ratinoff knew it to be the voice of his host. “That’s right. That's right,” was the murmured assent. “What luck! This is your chance, your chance,” whispered the evil one in Ratinoff's ear. ‘“You know they will liberally reward ‘special service.’ Your commission is a very ordinary service, but this will be special. It will pay well. Then you can elaim her.” _ But all the man in him rebelled against the thought. Betray his host, to whom he owed his life and the safety of his papers? Never! “But it's only business,” came the evil whisper. ‘“‘Every man must look out for himself. You'll never be able to claim her if you don’'t do some thing of this kind. They may not be exactly traitors in heart yet, but they soon will be if they hold these meet ings, and they are traitors now in the eyes of the Government.” * * * * * *® * Two weeks later a band of Cos sacks made a raid on the little cot- ' tage down by the river. Four men I were secured. b i ‘‘Have we the right one?” demand ed the captain. | “'Yes, that is he on your left? came the answer from the group of Cossacks. : The old man knew the voice, and turned his eyes in blank amazement upon the man he had rescued two weeks before. In speechless con tempt he stared for some moments, then he quietly turned and kissed his wife and little ones good-bye. And he knew it was for the last time, After some weeks there was an other big batch of criminals being transported to Siberia, that ghastly graveyard of the living dead, and the mother and her little ones in the lone ly cottage by the river clung wildly to one another, and mingled their tears of bitterness and loss, when they looked over the list of names. » * * * * * ® 3 Weeks passed. And another item of news found its way to the desolate little cottage. : There had been a great wedding in Peterhof, Ratinoff, a Cossack of the Imperiai Bodyguard, was the bridegroom. Because of recent spe cial services rendered in the cause of the fatherland, the Government thought fit to donate a substantial wedding gift—it consisted of a purse of twenty-five roubles and a pension for life. g The lonely mother listened in si lence, and her face was hard and drawn as she gazed on the wasted forms of her little ones, whose faces were pinched with hunger and blue with the cold. | At last she broke the gnawing si lence, but her words were few and very, very bitter. She said only: “And Judas got only twenty-five gel ders.” 1 This is not a mere story. It ig based on facts—hard, cold facts, | And yet Russia wonders why her people are so restless and so discon-i tented with the Government, Poor Russia!—Christian Guardian, § A Siam is the land of temples. New ones are constantly being built and tie old ones rarely repaired. l J Good Roads. § " ' LA Care of Earth Roads, _ While American road builders are as capable of constructing good roads a 8 those of any country of the Old World, they have not been as loyally ‘Supported as the men of those coun tries in maintaining the highways af ter completion, and the deplorable state of many hundred thousand miles of road is thus accounted for. County and township officials may at the outset stand the expense of hav ing a road built, but they strenuously Object when asked to provide funds to rebuild the road that has been al lowed to go to ruin. It is important that farmers learn of the Dbenefits to be derived from good earth roads; that county boards be impressed with the need of a pro per maintenance of the same, and that road builders and overseers learn how best to care for the roads in their charge. The persistent and powerful ene mies of earth roads are water and narrow tires, and the constant effort of the men in charge of the roads should be to guard against cheir de structive effects and remedy all dam age as quickly as possible. The sim ple implements which have been found to be of greatest assistance in this work are the plow, the drag-scraper, the' wheel-scraper, the road-grader and the split-log drag." With a sandy soil and a subsoil of clay, or clay and gravel, deep plow ing so as to raise and mix the clay with the surface soil and sand will prove beneficial. The combination forms a sand-clay road at a trifling expense, On the other hand, if the road be entirely of sand a mistake will be made if it is plowed unless clay can ‘be added. Such ; :ng would mere 1y deepen the san., and at the same time break up the small amount of hard surface material which may have formed. If the subsoil is clay and the surface scant in sand or gra vel, plowing should not be resorted to, as it would result in a clay sur face rather than one of sand or gra vel. A road foreman must know Ht only what to plow and what not to plow, but how and when to plow. If the road is of the kind which accord ing to the above instructions should be plowed over its entire width the best method is to run the first furrow in the middle of the road and work out to the sides, thus forming a crown. Results from such plowing are greatest in .the spring or early summer, In ditches a plow can be used to good advantage, but should be fol lowed by a scraper or grader. To make wlde, deep ditches nothing bet ter than the ordinary drag-scraper has yet been devised. For hauls un der 100 *feet, or in making “fills” it is especially serviceable. It is a mis- Aake, however, to attempt to handle long-haul material with this scraper, “as the wheel scraper is better adapted to such work. For hauls of more than 800 feet a wagon should be used. E 7 | The machine most generally used in road work is the grader or road !'-u;achine. This machine is especially - useful in smoothing and crowning ' the road and in opening ditches. A _clay subsoil under a thin coating of _soil should not be disturbed with a grader. It is also a mistake to use a grader indiscriminately and to pull ~material from ditches upon a sand clay road. Not infrequently turf, soil and slit from ditch bottoms are piled in the middle of the road in a ridge, making mudholes a certainty. It is impor tant in using a grader to avoid build ing up the road too much 2t one time. A road gradually built up by frequent use of the grader will last better than if completed at one oper ation. The split log drag should be used to fill in ruts and smooth the road “when not too badly washed —TFrom United States Burcau of Public Roads. Road Building in the Country. “Don’t you people ever work the roads in this section?” asked the au tomobilist, as he pried the rear wheel of his machine out of a rut with a fence rail. “Work ’em? Wall, I should say we do,” answered Unele Charlie Sea ver from the top rail of the fence. “Why, we work these roads on the assessment plan; none of thet money gystem for us fellers. Every farm is aspessed so many days’ work on th' highway, an’ after the farm work is all done an’ we ain’t nuthin’ else ter do we all turn out, thirty or forty o’ us, with plows, horses, picks, shovels an’ hoes to work th’ roads. I tell you it’s a picnic. Work? Why, they make the dirt fly until they get tired. Then we find some shady spot to rest, eat our lunch, drink some cider, smoke an' maby play a game or two of seven up. An’ we call it a day.” - New York Press. A Red-Eyed Chicken, Mr. George Ladenburger has a sure-enough curiosity in ‘the posses slon of a red-eyed chicken, It 1s not the eyelids that are red, as might be inferred, but the eyes themselves, The eyeballs are not bloodshot or ‘inflamed, but are of a brilliant crystal red, while the sights are also red, but of a darker hue. So transparent are the eyes that when the head of the chicken is held be tween your vision and the gun it ap pears as if the sun were sbining through from one eyve to the other and the head lighted up ‘ugide,— Dover (Ky.) News. TEN BILLION OF NEWSPAFERS That Was the Estimated Circulatiop For the Year 1907. Facts relating to newspapers and newspaper growth are presented in the current issue of Appleton’s Maga zine in an article on ‘‘The Newspaper As It Is,” written by General Charles H. Taylor, of the Boston Globe. * “Statistics of American newspa pers, giving the number in each State,” says General Taylor, ‘“were first compiled in- 1810, when there was a total of 366 papers of all kinds in the country. Of these only 25 were dailies, 36 were semi-weeklies, 15 tri-weeklies and 290 were week lies. Of the 25 dailies 6 were pub lished in New York, only one of which, the KEvening Post, survives under its original title. The lotest available figures show that there were in the United States in 1907 a total of 21,635 newspapers, reviews and such, of which 2415 were dailies, 16,- 288 weeklies, 2655 monthlies and 177 quarterlies.” Other striking figures are those of total newspaper circulation. In 1900 this was 8,168,148,749. These fig ures showed an increase over 1890 of 74.5 per cent., while the increase be tween 1880 and 1890 was 126.4 per cent. Basing his conclusions upon these figures General Taylor esti mates that the total circulation of the newspapers of the country in 1907 was not less than ten billion copies, while he places the income from sales and advertising at $200,- 000,000, Of the advance of the newspaper as a néws conveying agent, General Taylor says that there never was a time when a newspaper reader got so much for his money as now, and he illustrates the point by recalling that in 1851 when America won the cup that has since become so famous, the New York and Boston papers printed only from 250 to 300 words about the event, and this a fortnight after it oc curred, while at the present time the papers in these cities devote two or three pages to a cup race. Similarly, in 1861, one telegraph operator sent out all the press mat ter from the convention that nomin ated Lincoln, while at the present time a single company will have over 100 operators employed at a national convention. “Our papers are what the people make them,” says General Taylor, speaking of the quality of the matter presented. ‘‘The public decides what it wishes to read; the editors and publishers, trained in their business, gather their raw material and work it into the finished product, news, to meet the demand. Controllers of newspapers -are often eriticised for what they print. “Journalists have a much heavier responsibility than any other business man. The idle, the self-seeking, the ~untruthful, the vieious, beguile them at every hand, to use the powerful engine of the press to carry them a little way along their chosen road. The editor must watch unceasingly for these unwelcome passengers and eject them on sight. He appreciates the responsibility of his trust. He reaches his ideal as nearly as he can, and does far more for the morals of the community than he is usually given credit for.” ’ IN CITY BACK YARD. Space to Be Utilized For Purpose of Tobacco Growing. A number of large land owners, whose homes are in the city, have planted tobacco beds in the gardens ~and back yards of their residences ~in this city, and will therefore be - ready to plant tobacco when the time comes if the State can give them the protection. For obvious reasons the persons who are said to have planted such tobacco beds are anxious that their action shall be kept secret, and, it is understood, have enjoined upon their friends and other visitors to their houses not to speak of what they have done, as even with the pro tection of the police force of a large city their premises might not be gafe from depredations, and the stock and buildings on their farms in the country would be open to attack from night riders. Notwithstanding these precautions, it is strongly believed here that such beds have been planted in the city and that the clouds of smoke which have hung over the back premises of a number of city residences have come from burning brush over tobac co beds and not from the ordinary preparations for planting a garden. On account of cutting out the tobac co crop a large crop of hemp will probably be raised in the blue grass region this year, although on ac eount of the scarcity of good seed the erop of hemp will not he so large as it would if the sgeed were more plentiful.-—Louisville Courier-Jour nal, | o — . e et I Sereens For Crushing Tin Ores, ! In Cornwall experience shows that | woven wire screens in the stamps | which crush tin ores are better than | punched plates. ’ Skat, which has become the rival f of bridge, and has displaced it in | some circles, is a purely German | game and Altenburg is its home. | The earliest records on the subject | show that it was evolved out of other | card games in 1817 by one Hempel, ' a professor at the Altenburg College. | Canada waters vielded last year ‘ about 20,000,000 lohsters, half oti which were canned. | ¢ ”’3‘-'!-_‘-.;’; PR AT R m he Ivony. ellsw; PPN FANT PN y] S . ""/’ Over the Teacups. g “There’s no use talking—" said my wife. I ceased to eat my food, Beside my plate laid fork and knife, Struck iiatening attitude, Sought, mentally, at least, to con : I\gan’s meagre lingual power, ‘ While she—went on, andp on, and on, And talked for half an hour! —Roy Farrell Greene, in Puck, Had a Great Fall, “What happened to Humpty Dump- Ty “He bought stocks on a marzin,” —Life. Because of the Gallery. “I am going to play Hamlet—"" “Good! That's art.” “For one night only.” “Ah, that's judgment.”—Kansag | City Journal. Great Concessions From Him. “They seem to live happily to gether.” “Yes; he lets his wife select his neckties and his stenographers.”— Nashville American. 'Possibly Not. Peggy—‘Was that p'liceman ever a little baby, mother?” Mother—*“Why, yes, dear.” Peggy (thoughtfully)—“l don't belleve I've ever seen a baby p'lice man!"”—Punch. g With a Proviso. “Is it good form to have your name in the papers?’” asked the so cial novice. “Oh, yes,” answered Miss Cayenne; “provided you don’t get it in display } type.”—Washington Star. Mathematical, ‘“Are you going to make an ex ample of that grafter?”’ said one statesman, ‘‘He's worse than an example now,”” answered the other. ‘“He's a problem.”—Washington Star. g ik £y Means No. 1 “A woman's ‘no’ means ‘yes.’’ “You think so?” “I know so. Don't you?” “No; I am all over that illusion. I am married.”’—Nashville American. You Have to Count 'Em. “Ah, kind friend,” said the minis ter, *“it is deeds, not words, that count.” : “Oh, I don't know,” replied thea woman, ‘‘did you ever send a telee gram ?”—Detroit Free Press. ] Wife's Winsome Wish. : Hubby (while dressing)—‘That confounded trial balance was running in my head all night.” G -~ Wifey—*"John, you must tell the manager and maybe he will give you extra pay for working overtime.”— Boston Transcript, / Hard to Say. Friend of the Family—*‘‘Well, Bob by, how i 8 your sister progressing in her piano playing? lls she improve | ing?" . } Bobby—‘‘l guess she's either ime | proving or we're getting uged to it. | I don’t Kknow which.”—Brooklyn | Life. |oe s 1 1' Something Doing. ’ Tess—*‘l actually believe some | man 1s calling on Miss Passay.” . Jess—'The idea! What makes - you think so?” Tess—''l notice that instead of fastening her hair with ordinary pins, as she used to, she’s now using safety pins.”’—Philadelphia Press, Let Us Hope So. “William,” she said, “means good, James means beloved. I wonder—'' A flush mantled her cheek. “I wonder,” she softly murmured, “‘what George means?” “George means business, I hope,” said mother, looking up from the Easter wedding announcements in the evening paper.—Philadelphia Bulle tin, Arithmetic Was Correct, Anyhow, “And have you any brothers and sisters, my little man?” asked the kind old lady, “Yes'm,” replied the little man; “I got one sister and one and a half brothers.” “What?" “Yes, ma'am; two half-sisters and three half-brothers,” —Philadelphia Press. Near a Bad Bargain, The agent of the titled wooar found that the ambitious American girl had only $150,000 a year, Of course he advised his principal to withdraw. “But,” insisted the latter, “I could scrape along on $150,000 a year.” “Possibly, but who'd support your wife?" Even lpve could put forth no argu ment against this.—Philadelphia Ledger, One at a Time, “I'm thinking of running for Con gress,” sald the village lawyer. “Will you vote for me?”’ ‘*No, sir,” answered Farmer Corn- . tossel, “I'm in favor of lettin’ the present Congressmen’ stay where they are. There’s no good of cone tinually takin’ men and gettin’ 'em’ out of the habit of hard work an’ then bringin' 'em back home ag'in.” ~Washingtcn Star, F i