Newspaper Page Text
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> Jome Di (es
g | e Diet Follie
A T WO4 Ao S
Ey Weods Hutch(ns’on, a2M, M D,
BPO L OME diet delusions sre of most modern date, like the fad
3:—::::;::::-::% which is now devastating cur breakfast tables, while others
o & are of most respectable antiquity. Amonz the latter is
: z“ that very ancient sgurvival, the notion that particular foods
t % tre “good” for particular things or effects. This is an al
o ?_. niost direct descendent of the notion, held with greater or
:_:_.___,._., less unanimity by nearly all savage and barbarous tribes,
T et oo "‘: that the flesh or viscera of hirde and animals possessing par
ticular qualities will Le likely to produce the same qualities
in those who eat them. Thus Nero used to banquet on nightingale’s tongues
in the hope of improving his voice, and the Ojibwa cut out and devoured the
heart of a lLear, the liver of a buffalo, ete, believing that the strength and
couraze of these animals Would thereby be transferred to himself. It is
probable that the most grewsome of ancestral rites~—cannibalism—was largely
due to the same bLelief, althouzh, of courge, in Neanderthal days primitive
man would have no more hegsitancy about eating his enemy after he had killed
Lim than he would in devouring a bear or a deer. In fact, the early converts
of the missionaries in the South €ea Islands referred to their favorite dish
as “long pig.” BEvery known race has at come time been cannibal,
There certainly was a childlike logic dlity and naivete about the concep
tion of the Maori warrior who rounded and completed his conquest of his en
emy by eating him afterwards, and thus acquiring all the vigor and energy
which had been wont to eppose him. The story told of the old Maori chief
who, upon his death-bed, when urged by the missfonary and his favorite wife
to a death-bed repentance, and told that in order to do s 5 he must first for
give his enemies, proudly lifted his dying head and exclaimed, “I have no
enemies; I have caten them all,” appeals to a slumbering chord in us even
yet, While certain most intelligent people to-day would indignantly resent
the accusation of reverting to such days and ideas, they will vigorously de
nounce the eating of pork as an unholy thing, on the ground that “he who
eats pork thinks pork,” and the more orthodox of them will even declare that
while Eecripture records that the devils entered into swine, we have no as
surance that they ever came out of them.—From MecClure's Magazine,
L R
i How Mine eposits 1
ral Deposit
>
Affect Population 1
BRI VS ¥ 63104 M PO R S AR
i By Professor AG. Keller. 3
R R ! YR WYY
:’”m. HE history of American mining-towns presents many ex
amples of the determining effect of mineral deposits. Butte,
Montana, is a city of 26,000 inhabitants supported by copper
underlying about one square mile of land surface. The
metal forms the sole raison d'etre of this considerable set
tlement, for in other respects the regibn is unproductive and
unattractive; without the mines the locality would support
with difficulty a population of one hundred souls. The min
eral deposits of Nevada occur beneath strips of land a few
hundred feet in width and in the midst of a hopeless desert, but they have
formed plausible pretext for adding a State to the Union and two Senators
to Congress. The decline of the lodes has now reduced Virginia City to a
population of 2500, as against 11,000 in 1880, when it was one of the busiest
cities in America, in the midst of a superlatively “booming” State. In 1900
Nevada was credited with a population of 42,385—a figzure somewhat under
that for 1870; thus this State, with an area twice that of New England, has
less population than Waterbury, Connecticut. Through the existence of min
eral products in close proximity, Pittsburg has become the emporium for
coal, petrcleum, and iron. Its case differs, however, from the above, for its
development was far less artificial, and its destiny could never be that of the
regions already mentioned. Three navigable rivers converge at this point;
valleys sunk in a plateau provide natural routes for approaching railways.
Natural and unnatural access, it may he added, are contrasted at Pittsburg by
effect an entrance to the city by overcoming a minor geographic obstacle.~~
Harper's Magazine.
EAs rnsttn oo oo P (1T
$ Jomething New:-- $
: Christian Psychology &
g i By Right Rev. Samuel Fallows, g
S Ut iven of Chicago. Oan g
1 WOULDN'T agree to cure a case of grip without the assist.
ance of a physician, I want to make it plain that I expect
I to work hand in hand with physicians, By giving you good
suggestions, however, I would do much toward curing the
sl disease and probably would banish it entirely.
Just how shall 1 go about putting my theories to practical
use? As is being done in Emmanuel Church, Boston, T shall
-2 W'] address myself to the subconscious minds of those who de
sire to be cured, and will give them such suggestions as
may be beneficial to them.
To cure a person who is suffering from nervous breakdown or a mental
ailment, 1 shall use two methods. The first method is to seek for the root of
the evil—the patient’s cause for worry or despondency. If that is removable
it should immediately be removed, and the cure is effected.
The second method is to give such suggestions as will lodge themselves
in the subconscious mind and direct the actions and deeds of the patient upon
another and more beneficial plane. There are thousands of cases which
would be wonderfully benefited in this manner, -
Neurasthenia, an ailment of the mind, is the commonest and worst dis
ease of the present day., It is a disease that certainly can be cured by this
meang, It is being done in Boston every day, and it may be done in Chicago
WAI ) et e APETRAA
Dhat is the Bes
g at the Best
& ey
& e Nirlont————
L —— S e
é By H M. Alden.
e} e
[ HE best fiction of to-day has really more of constructive art
than that which preceded it, though this art, following the
l lines of life rather than an arranged scheme, is not mani
fest in obvious features. It has more varied traits, instead
f ——— of a few emphatically pronounced or merely tyvpical fea
{ ' tures. It has a deeper dramatic interest, intellectually and
:"i emotionally, though the drama itself is so changed to
e follow the pattern which life itself makes, yet in its course
unfolding novel surprises. Above all, it has more spontan
eous play of human activities and a finer and more vital humor——not the spe
cific humor which excites to laughter or even suppressed merriment, but
which, Mke every other guality of the modern art of expression, i{s pervasive,
without losing articulate distinction, concurrent with the ever-varying course
of the writer's thought and feeling. Humor, in this sense, is the most dis
tinctive quality of life—the index of its flexibility, of its tenderness, mercy,
and forgiveness —Harper's Magaaz'ne.
- b -4 - -
G G »AT LLLNS B -l e
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Hccediig or geifir pi
g
Making, (Thich? §
€ @ 0 SRAEAIEE C 0 WISRRENTELRS ¢T4
B B By Kate Gannett Wells. g 8
© U o CATTLSIR AR G GRS ¢ GSB ©
Marcella had never forgotten the
day she discovered she was only an
“‘adopted.” She could still hear the
scornful tone with which "sl{m;ny
Joneg, in shoving her sled down the
Long Path on Boston Common, had
announced the fact to a group of
boys. She remembered also that a
tall, handsome lad had offered 4io
drag her sled up the hill, and had
told her she'd come out all right in
the end, which ever sinee she had
been trying to do. i
On that day she had gone home
sorrowfully, and asked what it meant
to he adopted, only to be petted in
reply, and made happy for the .ao
ment. Yet ghe kad lain awake at
night wondering and vowing to her
little self that never again would she
g 0 coasting, and she never did, ‘
Marcella had a long memory, a hot
temper and an investigating turngi&f‘
mind. 8o she looked up the word
““adopted” in the dictionary, and de
clared to herself that Jimmy Jones
had told her such an awful lie he
ought always to be punished for it.
Then she began to tancy that people
pitied her instead of loving her as
they did other girls; and she felt
“riled,” to use her own expression.
Everything seemed to grow worse
and worse for her, until one spring
day on account of her carelessness
at school she was sent upstairs to
the sub-master for admonition.
“Poor child,” she overheard the
teacher say, ‘‘she may not be wholly
to blame; for no one knows what are
her inheritances.” i
“My mamma will give me just as
much money as other girls have,” de
clared the child, indignant at misap
plied compassion. The sub-master,
an excellent man without imagina
tion, was shocked, and passed her
on to the master, who had no time
for little things, and sent her home
until he should have leisure. As
Marcella left the office, she turned
on him, with all the latent wildness
of her nature, and the pent up woes
of her heart bursting from her child
ish control, exclaiming: “I hope you
never will have time, for I shall pray
God to get you drowned in vacation.
You don't know how to keep school.”
Before the master could summon
his wits to reply, she had rushed
downstairs and out into the street,
hatless, to run home. But a police
officer espied her, and caught her by
the arm. As she tried to escape, her
boy protector of the winter seized
the hand, which she had thrust for- |
ward for a pull at the officer’s sleeve
strap, saying, ‘‘Let her alone, Cop;
she's a neighbor of mine and all|
W S
~ As the lad was rather a favorie
of the policeman, who knew boys
better than often did their fathers,
he consented, after a few words, to
leave the frightened child in the
boy's care. She refused to go home.
So Hal took her to a vacant lot, and
in a place dear to all children’s
hearts they sat down, Marcella find
ing comfort im stubbing her boots
into the sand and refuse. Hal, how
ever, was embarrassed, and fervently
hoped that no one would discover
him with a pretty, hatless girl. The
silence between them had lasted long
enough for him to insist on speech.
‘“What's up?” he asked.
“I don't know,” answered Mar
cella, recklessly. ‘Things always
have to begin; and it began, you
know, that day last winter!” Hal
nodded. ‘“Well, it's spread, I'm not
popular, I'm an adopted. The die
tionary and mamma and papa don’t
agree. When I used to get mad I
just got marked like anybody else.
Now they take to excusing me, be
cause of what they call heredity.
Everybody has got that, only mine is
different. Miss Smith said I could
pot help being careless, and called
me ‘poor child.” I told her I could
help it, but I wouldn't. So she sent
me upstairs to the sub-master, and
he sent me along to the master; and
I just up and at him. That's all.””
And she swallowed hard, for she did
not want to cry before a bhoy. '
Then Hal did just what he had
had no notion of doing three mo
ments before; he put his arms round
her, and she laid her head down on
his knees and cried, just what she
did not mean to have done. But both
of them started up as they heard the
well-known whoop of boys coming
round the corner, and each nooded to’
the other, comrade-fashion, and dis
appeared at opposite ends of the
parkway. Marcella went home, and
said nothing. Hal went down town,
and called on Marcella's father at his
office. "It's none of my business,”
he began in helter-skelter fashion.
‘“What isn't?"” asked Mr. Lord,
with whom Hal was on friendly
terms,
“Why, whether she is adopted or
not. I am going to marry her just
the same as soon as I'm in business;
but you ought to tell her she's an
adopted, and not let the story sneak
out the way it does and have her
pitied when she gets mad—just as if |
she couldn't help it, for of course
she can.” g
“What are you talking about?"
asked Mr. Lord, so sternly that the
boy quickly recovered his senses and |
manners, and begged pardon, fixt
with grim insistence told what he
know—how Jimmy Jones hated Mar
cella, because she snubbed him and
would not take his spruce gum, and
that somehow he had found out from
the aunt with whom he boarded, who
had once lived in a hospital and had
taken care of babies, that Marcella
had been one of them. So Bob whis
pered it all round, just to spite Mar
cella.
““And you believe the story?”’ said
Mr. Lord.
““Yes, and Marcella believes it, too,
because, when she asked you and
Mrs. Lord, vou did not do anything
but hug her and give her' candy.
That’s just the same as saying it was
true. Then, lately, you are always
ecxcusing her when she is naughty—
'l guess she is most of the time—
and saying she can’'t help it; and
;’once she overheard you say you were
‘afraid of heredity.”
‘r “How do you know this?” de
‘manded the man.
~ “Because Marcella told me herself;
‘because sir—promise me ‘you won't
tell, never” (Mr. Lord mnoflded)—
(the boy stood on tiptoe and whis
pered into Mr. Lord’s ear), ‘“‘because
I'm one of those babies, too, and I
know how it feels. Only,” and he
spoke louder, ‘‘the folks that took
me always told me wwhat I am, and
that it depended on me what I got
to be, because heredity needn’t count.
Most folks don’'t know it, and, if
they do, they can’t surprise me. You
see Marcella didn't know, and she
didn’t like being suyrprised.”
Mr. Lord looked searchingly at
the lad, and then out of the window.
Turning, he laid his arm on the
boy’s shoulder, saying: *‘Don’t speak
of this. I trust you. Come here
to-morrow.”
~ “I beg your pardon. sir. I was
hot-headed.”” And, taking up his
cap, he left the office. In vain did
Mr. Lord try to balance his accounts.
Across them ran the great mistake
he and his wife had made. Hal was
right. Marcella ought to know, hard
as it would be now to tell her.
Years ago he and his wife, in their
childless loneliness, had adopted the
child. His logic had wanted her
early to know the truth; but his
wife’s selfish craving for childish
affection thad kept them silent, lest
Marcella might not love them as
mugh, if she knew she were not their
own daughter. Now the Nemesis
had come through the girl’s suffer
ing, and Mr. Lord insisted that she
should be told.
l “Tell her then yourself,” yielded
‘his wife, at last. ‘lt will be the
‘saddest day of her life.”
- “It will be the beginning of the
best years of her life. One can’t go
on living a lie,” he replied.
He went upstairs to find the child
curled up in the broad window-seat,
looking at the moon. He drew her
towards him; for he loved her more,
if possible, than did his wife, and
understood her far better. ‘Papa,”
she asked before he spoke, “am I an
adopted?”’
He held her close with kisses on
forehead, eyes and lips as he an
swered, ‘“Yes.”” The silence seemed
long and cruel to them both. She
shrank in his embrace ag if she were
Janain. but he would not. let her go,
rWiyquieted by his tenderness, he
‘told her how her own parents bad
died, and how he and his wife had
taken her from the hospital to be
‘their own blessed little girl, and that
there had never been a day since she
came to them that they had not re
_joiced she was theirs.
~ ‘“Are you sure you don't want to
get rid of me, when they poke fun at
me at school?”” she questioned.
“Never,” he answered; ‘but why
didn’'t you tell me they did so?" :
‘“‘Because, first, I thought they did
it just to tease me; and, when I did
try to ask, you and mamma gave me
candy. ' I threw it away, though, just
as soon as I got upstairs. Then I
heard mamma call me ‘poor child'”
—Mr., Lord shuddered as she spoke
—*“and you said you were afraid
heredity counted. I looked up the
word in the dictionary; but, when the
teacher talked to me about inheri
tances, I just pretended she meant
money. I wouldn't let her know I
saw through her. O papa, I'm the
miserablest little girl ever was adopt
ed. I don’t belong nowhere. I don't
see why I got born.” And the child
sobbed as if her heart would break.
~ Very tenderly and slowly, so she
could understand each word, her
father explained to her that she was
‘truly their child, and that heredity
needn't count, if it held aught else
than final good for her.
}* The girl listened, at first stupidly,
‘then comprehendingly. ‘“‘Papa, if I
can begin to-morrow and not go to
|thlt horrid school any more, perhaps
heredity needn’t count-—that's what
you said. Perhaps I needn’'t get mad
so often. Please don’'t give me any
more candy, not for a whole year;
and I'll try to get ahead on heredity,
if I've got it bad.”
" *You haven't. We three, you,
mamma and I, will try together for
& year, so that trying will make a
nice little inheritance to hand over
to next year.”
“That will be fun,” she exclaimed,
clapping her hands, forgetful of her
sorrow for the next hour. But it re
turned to her as she woke in the
night, until she made up her mind to
begin at once, on the inheritance, and
§0 fell asleep.
l[' The next afternoon Hal went to
'Mr. ‘Lord’'s office. What the two
said to each other was never known
till years after, when Hal asked Mar
cella to be his wife.
. "It isn't heredity, so much as love
in the home and will-power in one's
self that counts for good,” said Mr.
Lord to his wife, as Marcella and
| Hal drove off on their wedding jour
ney.—The Bostom Cooking-Scheol
Magazine.
. Three hundred tons of tobacco are
distributed annually among the sail
ors of the British navy. It is sold te
them at cost. :
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Spanish Women. )
Spanish women are not the psrson
ification of southern passion, as we
have been taught by “Carmen” and
romance to believe; they are physical
ly and mentally superior to Spanish
men, capable of passion, but far
more difficult to woo than northern
women.—Glasgow News.
A Coy Young Thing.
The following ‘advertisement rve
cently appeared: “Being aware that
it is indelicate to advertise for a hus
band, I refrain from doing so; but if
any gentleman should be inclined to
advertise for a wife, I will answer
the advertisement without delay. I
am young, am domesticated, and con
sidered ladylike. Avpply,” etc.—Phil
ippines Gossip.
Tennessee’s Stingiest Man.,
Gallatin claims to have the stingi
est man in Tennessee, if not in the
world, and a premium is offered for
his superior in closefistedness. He
got married to a home girl to save
expenses. They walked around the
square for a bridal tour. He bought
her 3 nickel's worth of stick candy
for a wedding presen: and then sug
gested that they save the candy for
the children.—Danville American.
Children’'s Hats, = :
This year little girls school and
everyday hats are in bright-colored
straws; those for more formal occa
sions in manilla, crin or chip; or
lawn embroidery hats in every degree
of elaborate and simple trimming are
usually trimmed with a bunch of gar
den flowers, or with a full ribbon bow
or scarf wound about them after the
manner of such drapery as arranged
on the hats of their elders.—Harper’s
Bazar. ’
Longer Skirts For Little Girls.
This fashion of putting little girls
into frocks that scarcely cover them
came into vogue last year, and lit
erally deformed thin children who be
came the victims of it. This year the
10ose frocks are all about a full knee
in length, and some still longer. In
addition to the blouses and tuniecs
there are many apron, or pinafore
frock forms, a supply of which will
keep the healthy romper looking
fresh at all hours of the day, at a
comparatively small outlay of labor
o money.—Harper’'s Bazar,
Explaining the Huge Hat.
»~Pireplaim rather-dark colored suit
was, in vogue this winter, the simple
kilt skirt and severe thres-quarter
coat! Obviously. something had to
be introduced to soften the hard lines
Pickled Onions.—Peel cmall white onions and cover them
with one and one-half cups salt and two quaris of boiling
water and let stand two days. Drain and cover with fresh
brine the same as before; let stand two days again, and drain
again. Make more brine and heat to the boiling point. Put
in the onicns and boil three minutes. Put in jars, inter
spersed with bits of mace, white pepper corns, cloves, bits of
bay leaf and slices of red pepper. Fill jars te overfiow with
vinegar scalded with sugar. allowing one and one-guarier cups
of sugar to one gallon ol vinegar, Cork while hot.—Amer
ican Home Monthly.
GUR SUT-OUT REGIPE.
Pasie in Your Scrap-Book.
of this costu#le, and the hat was the
oaly medium. The straight-cut suit
zave a perpendicular line, to elim
.nate which a horizontal one was re
quired, hence the wide hat; and this,
Dy contrast with the rigidity of the
su.t, had to be ornamented with trim
wing in broken lines, so we had end
less irregular loops and all kinds of
tfantastic feathers. Of course, then,
waen the hat trimming was regular
and “set” the purpose of this style of
hat was defeated —Harper's Bazar.
To Relish Wife's Cooking.
A docior tells me of a note he re
ceivad from a woman saying that her
husband, who was about to make him
2 professiozal call, found constant
fault wita tae dinner she prepared
for him. She appealed to the physi
cian for aid.
The docior examined his patient,
who nad a slight attack of indiges
tion, and told him to cut out iunches,
to eat nothing but a slice of toast and
a cup oi tea. »
The scheme worked excellently. Of
course hubby returns home in the
evening, eats everything in sight and
votes his wife's cooking even better
than mother used to make.—Boston
Record.
Mrs. Rose, of Melrose, ~—
Mrs. Geraldine Farrar, the prima
donna, attended a luncheon of debu
tantes in New York. Miss Farrar
told the debutantes that there was
happiness in work. She urged work
upon all of them. Work, she said,
would preserve them from degenera
tion into such a type as Mrs. Rose, of
Melrose. “Mrs. Rose's type is too
familiar,” she said. “To show you
the sort of type she is: Mr. Rose
came homie from business. Mrs. Rose
lay on a couch. He sat down by her
side and said: ‘What did the doctor
say, dear?’ ‘He asked me to put out
my tongue,” murmured Mrs. Rose.
‘Yes?' ‘And he looked at it and said,
‘Overworked.”” Mr. Rose heaved a
jong sigh of relief. ‘Then, my dear,’
he said, firmly, ‘you’ll have to give it
a rest. I have perfect confidence in
that doctor.’ "—New York Tribuna,
Latitude in Fashions.
A fashion note from New York
tells us that a considerable amount
of latitude is to be allowed to women
in the matter of new costumes. They
may wear any kind of sleeves that
they like. They may be long or short,
depending upon “whether the arms
are of the kind that one wishes to
show or to conceal. But this apparent
generosity is intended only as a lubri
cant to an inflexible rigor elsewhere.
The edict against waists and against
hips is to be enforced to the utter
most. Heie there will be no latitude
and no concession. The devotee who
would fulfill the law to the uttermost
must presént the appearance of hav
ing been liquified and then poured
into the dress. And the dress is en
tirely without those undulations that
prove the presence of things unseen,
the waist and the hips.
The edict against waist and hiys
has been received with mingled emo
tions. In some instances it meets
with easy and instant acquiescence,
but elsewhere there are protests and
maledictions. It is easy to under
stand a compliance that means no
moie than the discarding of those
useful appliances that ars prodigally
dispfayed at the bargain counter ard
pictorially advertised in the daily
‘newspapers. But how about the
ladies whose hips are fixtures and
who have received from mother na
ture without money and without
price what less favored ones must
purchase from art and echanieal
skill? Their lot is truly a hard one,
for to the mere male mind it seems
a bewildering impossibility thus to
put on and off a “garment of flesh?”
that lis periodically blessed and
banned by fickle fashion. Training
and diet may do something, but tiese
things take time, and the changing
styles are always in a hurry. Not
long ago a lady in a New York store
who asked for something in the latest
fashion was asked to take a seat for
a few minutes as the fashions were
then changing. What then must be
the fate of the fair ones who are in
vited to get rid of ‘natural encum
brances between dusk and dawn with
the full assurance that they will have
to replace them with a similar rapid
ity?—The Argonaut.
Crusade Against Plumes. .
Whether the particular means he
has adopted will achieve their object
or not, there will be cordial approval
of Lord Avebury’s crusade against
the wearing of the plumes of certain
wild or rare birds. It is indeed
strange that women, who so often
lead the world in humanitarian sen
timent, seem to have absolutely no
feeling in this matter; what fashion
decrees they obey blindly even
though their adornment involves the
destruction of the parent bird during
the nesting season and the slaughter
of the young brood. At the plume
auctions held in London c¢uring the
last six months of 1907 there were
catalogued 15,742 skins of birds of
paradise, some 115.000 nesting
plumes of the heron; during the
whole vear 190,000 egrets were sold.
So much for the humanity of fashion;
and there is a regrettable tendency
to push the matter further, and to
wear hatpins of hare’s feet, and such
like horrible “ornaments.” The pre
servation of a beautiful animal is
more important than the decoration
of a hat in a manner which a littie
reflection would show to be repulsive;
but we are not sure that legislation
will prove stronger than fashion. Wo
men generally contrive to make a law
look ridiculous when it suits their
purpose; and acts such as that of
Queen Alexandra, who refuses to
wear ospreys, and has made it known
that she objects to ladies wearing
them who are in her entourage, will
probably be of as much effect as a
dozen bills. Laws are useless against
the uneducated, and until those who
design and those who weekly follow
the dictates of fashion are educated
to a sense of the cruelty their con
duct involves there is little hope for
the birds, which are the unfortunate
victims of both.—London Globe,
& Triumph of Youth.
A certain line of exercises is rec
ommended to make childrern stronger
than their parents. This looks like
a blow at the woodshed ceremony.
i aiss
Hold Stone-Throwing Contests.
In parts of Switzerland stone
throwing contests are held, handsome
prizes being given to those who throw
a fair-sized rock farthest.
——————
Babylon was probably the first city
to attain a population of a million.
The area of the city was 225 square
miles, Rl TR )
