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* -AN. EXHORTATION, ...~ "Tis belter to be skilled in making salad. Than versifying sweetest song or ballad, Yor mem,. ’tls'sgud. is but a hungry sinner Devoid of sentiment “til after dinner, : So, i the way you'd find into his heart Essay not verse, but culinary art. : 2 K —Louige Taber, _-h—-———h z\w\n\m\mwl\mz = 2 Fanry [ales. 2 Paul sat on a low stool facing the fire, kis breakfast spread on a great armchair beside him. Beside the egg and the toast and the glass of milk there was The Book, with its cover wondrously decorated in red and gold, popped open at the picture of the princess. As he finished the last morsel of buttered toast and began quite slowly on the egg—one kept the egg always for the last—he turned his eyes meditatively on the nurse, “What could one do to grow large —as large as you—llarge enough to fill this big chair?” he wondered, thoughttully. Mary was pinning on her cap at the mirror. She spoke with difficulty, her attention on her task. “Ob, eat much and sleep much and be very gcod and obedient.” “Hat and sleep—and be good,” Paul summed up concisely. “Does it take long?” Mary turned her laughing eyes on &im, euriously. “Not very long,” said she. “Why does he want to be big, I wonder?” He reached gravely for The Book and opened it quite slowly to the plaece. “I should like,” said Paul, ‘“to eat downstairs, where Simpson waits, and to go places with—with her, and to see what happens after she kisses me good night.” “Oh!” said the girl, in an odd it'le voice. : He thumbed the pages wistfully. “I suppose it rather surprised her —having a little son,” said he. “The prinees in this are all big, and I sup pose she wouldn’t know quite what to do with me if I went down now— I wouldn’t—fit in. But I don’t seem to belong to her up here, somehow. Mary dropped upon her knees and patted his legs comfortingly. They were rather fine little legs, straight ard shapely, and rosy-browa above the socks. ; “Don’t you now?” said she. Her eyes grew very narrow and bright as they always did when she was thoughtful or cross. “I tell you! |Let’s have a sur prise?” she proposed brightly. “A sur-prise!” “Something nice when she won’t expect,” explained the girl. “Shall Wwe have it?” “Yes, let’s!” cried Paul eagerly. “Is it something about being big and eating downstairs and being with— ‘With her? What is it?” Mary hugged him tenderly. “It’s sleeping in her very own bed with her!® ghe said impressively. * “Would Yyou like it—just for onee! And when she wakes up she will find you!” Paul put hig arms around her hap pily, “When—when will it be bed time, please?” said he. * * # * * - & The boy opened his eyes on a strange world. Before him stretched a wonderful view, waving, fluttering billows of soft blue silk. His little body was almost buried in downy sheer pillows. He had never been in this place before, but somehow it re minded him of her, perhaps because the faint, very faint blossomy smell that she had was here, too. Suddenly he remembered. He breathed a quaint little sigh of content; then he opened his eyes again, amazed. Soft strains of music were floating in to him. Very cautiously he pushed back the curteins and peeped out. The room was as dainty and blue as the bed, and was dimly lighted by a pale blue lamp in the alcove. He orept out of the bed scarcely breath ing, and, half-awed, approached the window. It was black outside, and the familiar sky was strangely lit with many twinkling lights. He was five years old, and he had never seen the stars! He dropped down on his knees and gazed at them estatically. “How pretty—how pretty!” he murmured softly, and then, remem bering, he drew a sharp little breath and added, “How very clever, too!” Outside the musie was running on dreamily. He scratched his head an instant, reflecting, and started slowly for the half-open door in his bare feet and pajamas. And so, in his journey of inspection and exploration, he came, unheard, upon the two uvon the stairs—a pale, slim, little face, all eyee and tiny, quivering lips. * * * * * * . “If only you were not unhappy,” said the man Sslowly, “I—why—l comld bear it then; that would be enough for me; but—" « “I am happy,” said the Princess tremulously. She raised her roses to her lips to hide their piteous trem bing, and dropped her eyes, "“Last week-—yesterday, perhaps 1 might have thought otherwise, but to night—to-night, I know that I have everything—everything my neart de gires.” . “Everything?” She nodded, her face turned away to escape the pain in his eyes; her own were very soft and dark and pitying in the half light, and a little wistful. “Yes,” she repeated, “everything,” The man fastened his glove intent ly and looked off somewhere into spaee. . e “I believe,” he said, grimly, “that you are breaking your heart.” “No, no,” she cried, softly, “but 1 am breaking yours again. Ohy if I ‘might make you happy—if I might!” _“Why not?” he asked earnestly, “Why?” o She leaned over thonghttully, her ‘eyes on the people below them: ~ “You wouldn’t understand,” she said; but she half eclosed her eyes and seemed about to go on; so he waited quietly. ’ “When I married,” she said slow ly, “you—you know the story. We gave each what we wished and so— it was not love, you see. We didn't even pretend that it was love.” She looked up, but his face wag ex pressionless and set. “I loved you,” she went on calmly, “loved—do you see, but, you didn’t ask me—then, and Terrinini did. Af terwards you told me—afterwards, and so I had that comfort to begin on. Then—and then my child was a boy. I didn’'t want—a boy. I know nothing whatever about boys, and 1 was very young, and so—but, mean while, T have come to know Terrinini, and—" She raised her eyes to his eurious -Iy, and he winced. “He's brave—and big—and true,” she went on evenly, “and my boy ia growing up. Some day he’ll be a man. I don't want the love in his eyes to change. I want him always to look at me as he does now. I—" There was the slightest rustle on the stairs behind them, and a very forced cough. They turned their heads curiously at the sound. “I beg pardon,” said Prince Paul, gravely, one hand on the balustrade, the other nursing a bare foot. “I think I must have wakened by mis take.” The Princess caught her breath sharply and held out her arms to him. “Is it Fairyland?” he asked seri ously, coming down to them. “I have never seen things like this before.” “It is,” said the man, “and how, will you tell me, did you get here?” “I don’t know. I really shouldn’t have come, I suppose, I'm so little, and little people don’t belong to stories, but—l wanted to be near you,” he finished sweetly in her ear. She clasped her white arms around him, and let her head fall down on the soft, silvery folds of her gown. “Boy——bo?,” she murmured un steadily. : It was a confession of love and a prayer in one. The man reached over and caught the child’s hand. “And now that you've eome—what?” said he euri ously. Paul sat thoughtfully pondering the question. . “It is only for a vigit, I guess,” he sighed: “There is no place, you know, for—for just children. They dor’t count in things at all—they don’{—" \ The man pressed the hand he held tenderly. “They just do,” he insist ed. “Fairyland is Childland. Don't you know? [Fairyland is eonly fer yo“'—" ‘ ~ “And mother,” said Paul. “Por princesses, too, Your picture is in my book,” he confided to her in a whisper. “I recognized you. That's how I knew you are a princess, and Mary says it’s true. Princess Terri nin-i.” i Then he turned politely to the man and added: “I expeet you didn’t want your pie-~ ture im? Or maybe you aren’t a prinee?” “No,” said the man. “I am net a prinee; I'm afraid I’'m not much good, you know. I'm—l’'m there, though. Perhaps you didn’t recognize me, I'm the Wicked One.” “Why, no!” cried the boy, wide eyed. “Are you the one who kept the princess in the tower and made her old and unhappy and—?” ; “No,” said the man gently. “I couldn’t. The little prince won her away from me; got into her heart and held it against me, and then—and then even captured mine!” Paul wrinkled his: forehead, puzzled. “I don’t quite remember that story,” said he. He lay back comfortably in the Princess’ arms and closed his eyes to shut out the glittering lights. Over his slim white form the man stretched out his hand and caught the Prin cess’. “Good-bye,” he whispered. “I'm off again. You are happy, I see, hap pier than I eould ever make you, I— I'm glad.” Then she smiled at him. Tears for him were in her eyes. But Prince Paul sat up, as he had turned to go, and Held out his hand to the Wicked One, who arose from his stair seat. “I'm sorry you are the Bad Man,” he said. “I—l rather like you, I—l suppose, though, you have to be. They wrote you that way., And I'm sorry I couldn’'t rem-remember the —the story. I'll look—it up—to morrow,” then he turned and smiled up into the Princess’ soft blue eyes. “Would you put me—in bed?” he asked timidly, “and kiss me good night again—if the others could get on without you, I mean?” “They must,” whispered the Prin cess happily. “They must, for lam never coming back to them. I am going to stay always—with you.” He blinked his eyes sleepily and pressed his warm little lips tenderly against hers. “To-morrow—and to-morrow-—and to-morrow?” he asked doubtfully. “For always,” she promised. He closed his eyes. sighing, and smiled . . . and so, in her arms, she carried him back to the blossomy bed.—Fred Jackson, in Black and White. In the sandy deserts of Arakia whirling winds sometimes excavate pits 200 feet in depth and exterding down to the harder stratum on which the great bed rests. - “Asleep at His Telegraph Key.” e The-Explanation of Many Serious Wreeks---A Danger Which the Most improved Signalling Systems Have Not Altogether Elim inated---Difficuity Experienced by Railroad Officers in - Preventing Subordinates From Becoming Careless = ---The Man Who “Takes Chances” a Menace ; : : to. the Traveling Public, e ; There is an ancient saying that no varticular harm is to he apprehen'dedl from a knave, as he can be guarded against, but that heaven is the only' protection from a fool, because no one can tell what he may do next. This adage, attributed by them to the official in charge of transportation on the canals of Egypt, has been adopt ed by the general managers of rail roads in this country, as their own particular property. It has unques-l tionably been heavily overworked in times past as applied to the ‘“man un derneath,” in accounting to the pub lic for wrecks which were really due’ to lack of judgment and foresight on the part of the operating officials and their superiors, the board of diree tors. There have been many instances in the history of American railroad ing, however, where ‘‘asleep at his post,” or ‘‘forgot his orders,” was the true explanations for bad accidents, with either enginemen, signalmen or train dispatchers as the offenders. From the latest accounts of the ter rible wreck at Adobe, Col., last week, that disaster was clearly caused by a lapse of this kind on the part of one of the Denver and Rio Grande agents. In the face of negligence of the gort that killed upward of forty peo ple in Colorado, the railroads are al most helpless. There is little that can be done to guard against such in difference to duty as that shown by a man who will, no matter how great his fatigue, fall asleep knowing that hundreds of lives are dependent upon his vigilance. The railroads use the utmost care in hiring men, and do everything to make sure that they are performing their duty conscien tiously. Once in a while, however, a fool will get by the boards of examin ers by whom all railroad employes in responsible positions are now hired, and, when he does, only too often it takes a wreck to show him up. A Flagman Who “‘Lost His Head.” Twenty vears ago, one of the large railroads of the East was poor. There never has been a time when it hasn’t been poor, but at this particular pe riod the treasury had but recently been looted for the third time in ten years. The salaries of some of the officers were in arrears, and wrecks were unpopular, not so much from the danger to human life as the cost of rebuilding the roadbed and repair ing the equipment. -On a certain di vision of this railroad there was a young civil engineer who had been but a few years out of college. .By midnight raids on the ‘‘equipment piles” of the neighboring divisions he had succeeded iff building up the sec tion of the line over which he was ‘“road master,” until it became the envy of the other division roadmas ters, and attracted the notice of ‘‘the old man” himself. As Lowell said of two of Emerson’s assoclates: “They might strip every tree and 'E would never catch ’em, His Hesperides have no rude dra gon to watch ’em; When they send him a dishful, and ask him to try ’em; He never suspects how the sly rogues came by ’em; He wonders why 't is there are none such his trees on And thinks ’em the best he has tasted this season.” Thanks to a sly old Irish foreman with a pretty knack at raiding, the voung roadmaster was laying a foun dation for a record breaking future, when he had a wreck and a bad one, He was laying new track on a section of his division shut off from the rest of the line by a heavy curve. One of the section hands was sent back with torpedoes and a red flag to warn trains to ‘“‘come on slow.” He was particularly warned to look out for an express which was due about half an hour after he went out. The track gang had just lifted an old rail preparatory to letting in a new one when this train rounded the curve at full speed and went into the diteh. Disregarding everything else, the young engineer, knowing that his reputation was at stake, ran back to the spot where he had posted the flagman, taking the foreman and a laborer with him as witnesses, They found the man as pale as death sit ting by the side of the track, his flagl beside him. He was trembling like al leaf, and the only explanation hei could give for his failure to signal the engineer was that the onrushingl train frightened him so that he was unable to move hand or foot. Im-; probable as this seems, subsequent' investigation proved that the same man was discharged from another | road for having failed to flag a train that he had been sent out to stop. The swift approach of a train appar- | ently affected him in much the game way that standing on the edge of a precipice does some pergons. | A Strange Case of ‘:Nerves." l The tendency toward sudden‘ “panic” on the part of men of this class who have once been involved in a wreck, constitutes a real danger in raflroad life, and explains why it is often considered necessary by the ' master mechanics and superintend ents to discharge the engineers and | signalmen connected with an acci-f dent, even though they may not have ! been in any way responsible for it, | An engineer who has once ‘““gone into | tie ditch with his machine’” is never the sameé man afterward, so far as: his nerves are concerned, that he was before he had the horrible exper- | ience, and in a calling where self possession is the first requisite, no amount of sympathy can blind the officers of the road to the duty they owe themselves and the public, There ‘Was a case on a Western road several years ago that well illustrates this point. An epgineer with a long and excellent record for steadiness and loyalty to the company, plunged with | his engine and two mail cars into an open culvert that had been washed out by a series of heavy floods. The accident. happened at night and the engineer was not in the remotest de gree to blame for it. He had a par ticularly strong hold on the affections ‘ of his employers, owing to the fact that he was one of the only men who refused: to go out during the great strike of 73, and made his regular run despite the danger to himself in volved in refusing to obey the order of the union. After the accident he Was put back on Ris old trip with a new engine, and, so far as any one could see, was just the same quiet, icapahte_;\“runner” he had always been.. ) One night he was rounding a long 'curve with high bluffs on one side of the tracks and a steep precipice on the other, he suddenly shut off steam, whistled for brakes, for it was be fore the day of ““air,” and yelled to his fireman to jump. When an en gineer gives that warning, his com panion in the cab does not usually stand on the order of his going, but Jumps first and looks afterwards. That’s what the fireman in this case did, and when he came to, he found himself with a broken arm and cut head, at the foot of the hillside down which he had roiled. He picked him self up and scrambled as best he could to the track, looking for the rest of the wreck, Looming up in the monlight on the track ahead, he sawrthe dark shadow of the train with lanterns glinting about it. The conduetor - was holding an earnest conversation with the engineer as he reached the locomotive, which, to the astonishment of the fireman, was with the rest of the train entirely un injured. - “I swear by all that’s holy, Jim,” the engineer declared to the conduc tor, %w ‘the headlight of another engine coming toward us on our track.” b The conductor was scornful and the fireman mad, and neither of them, of course, believed the story. The conductor climbed aboard the cab, and the train was run back to pick up the brakeman who was out with a flag. As they rounded the curve on resuming the trip, the en gineer suddenly shut off steam and again called his fireman to look. There on the track in front of them was the light of a headlight so bright as to be almost blinding. The fire mman saw, however, what had not struck the engineer when he first perceived it, that the light was the reflection of their own lamp. A pool of water had ecollected in a hollow in-the bluffs, and was close eflough to the track to make a powerful re flector. The engineer in this case was not discharged, but at his own request served out his time on a switch engine. The Man Who Takes Chances. In the two instances sited above, the men themselves might be said to be only indirectly responsible for the trouble they caused.” There is anoth er idiosynerasy, however, which, while it is undoubtedly due to a state of mind, precludes the possi bility of any feeling of sympathy for the person who ig subject to it. The man who “takes chances” is justly the bane of railroad life, and is the one element next to spring freshets, most dreaded by the operating offi cers. Here i 8 an example of the kind of thing stich a man will do. A di vizion engineer was one day making an inspection of track from the cab of a passenger locomotive which he bad boarded for the purpose. The engine driver called him over to his seat to look at some object at the side of the road as the division en gineer supposed. Instead, he point €d to a large boulder, the size of an 2gg crate, that had rolled. down the hillside and lay directly between the rails in front of them. There was plenty of time to stop, and the divi slon engineer expected the driver to | shut off steam. Instead, he opened | the throttle wide and yelled: i “See me bunt it on.” , The engine hit the rock with a mighty thud, rolled a trifle, and then settled down on the rails again, the boulder having gone over to one side. l The division ehgineer, as soon as he could get possession of his voice, l made the driver stop his engine. “You fool!” he called back as he | climbed down from the cab, ““I would not ride another mile on the same en- | gine with you for a thousand dol lars.” ¢ The fireman, meaning to throw oil on th@troubled waters, said: \ “Why, that's nothing, Mr, —, Gus never stops for a little thing like ; that, and he's got the best record for time of any runner on the road.” ! *he divigion engineer left the road | soon after this incident, so he never . LT AR g T e knew ‘what '--Beca;xfiz%t the engine dri ver., Before he went, however, he sent a full report of the occurrenee to headquarters, and the man was in all probability discharged. Accordidg to thé latest reports cos the Adobe disaster, the accident was caused by the negligence of a tele« graph operator and signalman who fell asleep and was therefore not aware that the fated train had passed his station. This is one of the com monest and most difficult dangers to deal with, confronting railroad offl cers. The strain of keeping awake during the hours when a person is normally in bed, in a little way sla tion where only three or four trains pass in the course of the night, is greater than any person can realize who has not experienced it. Every sort of device has been re sorted to by the railroad companies to insure that the men along the line are awake and doing their duty. Spe cial calls are sent over the wires to the different agents at frequent in tervals, they are obliged to report to the train dispatcher every hour or two, and the conductors of passing trains are called upon to notify head quarters of any evidences of careless ness on the part of the operators they may notice as they go up and down the road. In spite of these precautions, every little while opera tors go to sleep, as the Adobe acci dent shows. The following incident illustrates the fact that men who have attained to high positions in railroad life were themselves some times guilty of subterfuges as under lings which they were later anxious to detect and punish in their subor dinates. A man who ended his career as presideut of the Lake Shore Road be gan life as a station agent, and is credited by his associates with in venting what was perhaps the first automatic signal ever put into prac tical operation. The station of which he was ir charge lay far out on the prairies in Illinois, and with the ex ception of two expresses and a through freight, there was no night traffic. The express trains passed the station early in the evening, and after that there was a long stretch of lonely waiting until the freight went by about 3 o’clock in the morn ing. The agent tried improving his mind with study, and then took to modeling in clay. Neither of these schemes worked, g 0 he was finally forced to put aside the promise he had made his moth er ‘“never to gamble,” and joined the “round robin” poker game which is as old as the institution of night telegraphy. Each man deals himself a 2 poker hand, and then, as his turn comes round, calls his play. The stakes are always small, and are for warded te the winner by the hand of a friendly conductor or brakeman. The poker game became tiresome af ter a time, and the agent compro miged: still further with his consci ence. His sole duty after the freight went by was to set the red light in the middle of the track, warning any following train that the freight had passed, and then give his code signal to the operator at the next station to warn him that the freight was on the way. The agent decided after think ing the matter over that so long as the signal was set, and the next agent notified, it made no difference by what means the end was attained. He therefore spent the whole next few evenings perfecting a device that would allow him to go to sleep with out danger of being detected. The signal was a crude one, but it an swered its purpose in an age when railroading was haphazard at the best. In after years this man was wont to say that one of the first things he did after he became a divi ‘sion superintendent, was to install a ftelegraph outfit in his bedroom so ‘that he could cut in on the main line of his division during the night and discover whether he was talking to a man or a machine.—~New York Evening Post, GCHIING.S l IWORTH KNOWING) boT IR T There are two persons married in New York City each eleven minutoes in the day. Few persons realize the volume of the real estate transactions in New York City, The records of the five boroughs show that there is an aver age of thirty deeds and twenty-séven mortgages filed for record every busi ness hour of the year, Just 3,963,660 cords of wood were used in the United States in the man ufacture of paper pulp last year, twice ias much as was used in 1898, l Cape Nome i 8 only two degrees )below the Arctie circle, and yet prob ‘abilities are that within a year or two it will become the site o 1 a town with all the modern improvements. The rush in the direction of the new gold fields is almost unprecedented, and it the expectations now entertained are realized, it will becorme the largest gold camp in the world. The royal palaces of Bangkok form a city in themselves. They consist of several hundred individual palaces, surrounded by magnificent gardens and pagodas. Persons who make it a buginess to contribute to the beautifying of wom en gay that there are more of them with double chins in New York City than\in any other city in the world. The “extra chin comes after forty years, and there are about 112,000 of them in the city that the owners are trying to get rid of, SRS hel, SR A 3 ' L 11. Good Roads. 2 § : ?:‘““ At e 55 v v Toadside Trees, ar fn answer to inquiries from the United States, Consul-General Robert P. Skinner, of Marseilles, furnishes. the following information relative te the effect of wayside trees on French roads: “It is proposed to plant trees along the roadsides of New York State in order to keep the moisture in the road and prevent ravelling, and the question has been raised’ whether or not the roots of such trees may spread out underneath the road surface and eventually create great damage in a severe climate where there are extremes of heat and cold. While French roads are not always boidered with shade trees, they are so very frequently, and my information is that the trees are planted not only for furnishing shade, but in order @ protect the roads themselves against the effects of ex cessive heat and drouth. It is be lieved that the long, dry summer sea son is much more inimical to roads than severe cold. The chief officer in charge of the public roads in Mar seilles is of the opinion that, on the whole, New York roads would be benefited if bordered with trees, sug gesting, however, that only such should be planted as have vertically descending roots. “F. Birot, civil engineer, and for mer conductor of the bureau of bridges and highways, expresses him self as follows on the subject: “‘ln countries where the climate is damp roadside tress are prejudicial to the maintenance of the highways, as they prevent the circulation of the air and the drying of the soil; in most of the southern French regions such plantations are, on the other hand, very useful in dry weather, as they maintain the roadbed in a state of freshness favorable to its conserva tion. In general, trees should be selected with high spreading branches, such as the poplar, the elm, the ash, and they should be planted generally upon the outer edge of the roadbox and at distances of ten metres (32.80 feet). Wach tree should be placed in a hole one metre (3.28 feet) deep and one and one half metres (4.92 feet) square, and should be trimmed to a height of two and one-half metres (8.20 feet) above the surface. . “ ‘The earth about newly planted trees should be loosened in March and November-—in March only after the third year—and thereafter until their permanent growth appears as sured; small trenches should be di rected toward the foot of the tree, in order to secure the benefit of rains. Finally, the tree itself should be trimmed annually during the first ten years.,' "—Consular Report, Sl k':lgt::r < o e ET— i ; " Problem World-Wide., Mesting new conditions success fully is essential to the progress of civilization. One hundred and twen ty-five years ago Tresauget, of ‘ Franoce, and Macadam, of Scotland, met the difficulty which arose from impassable roads by developing the modern macadamized highway. They argued that iron tires crushing down heavily the rock spread over the roads would ultimately result in giv ing a smooth, hard surfaece that would shed the water and remain the same in winter and summer. Their reas oning was correct, and the wonderful ‘mads of France and Scotland were the result. | To-day, however, as civilization is progressing, instead of the iron-tired wheels improving the roads, the rub ber-tired automobiles destroy care fully macadamized roads. The roads in France in the last few years have deteriorated fully forty per cent. un der the disintegration caused by the suction from the rubber tires of the automobile. As the Times-Dispatch has already stated, a congress of road builders is now being held in Parig, at which the United States is repre sented, to discuss a way of meeting this difficulty. This congress shows how much interest the whole world is taking in good roads, which, like the automobile, have come to stay wherever they have come at all. Virginia 18 making some progress toward better roads, but not enough, The increase of comfort and value which always follows good roads ought to urge the State to redoubled efforts to secure improved highways everywhere, — Richmond Times-Dig patch. Work in Brazil, i Brazil is bestirring nersgelf over good road conscruction., All over the Republic there are public enterprises for the construction of improved roads or the improvement of old roads as a neceseary adjunct to agri cultural and other development of the country, It may he something of a surprise to the average reader to know that in the earlier days Brazil posgessed some of the finest roadways in the world, the old Government highways before the day of railways comparing favorably with the best government highways of Europe of the same period. It is a generally well recognized fact, in all pro gressive countries, that good high ways are one of the most important features of the general transporta tion problem, and transportation .of farm products is the key to farm prosperity. Good road agitation and aecom plishment in this country cannot progress any too rapidly, either by Pederal, State or local means, if Amerfcan farms are to eontinue supreme, B