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LI s (3
Pastim men ¢
astimes of Madme
o i i .
s N Ey Helen E. Meyer. %
OME of the inventions of the insane are of sclentific value.
A patient at Villejuif invented a “panification machine” by
ccmbining a bottle, a plank, and small metallic tubes, to
which he had fitted faucéts. Having set up his machine,
he procured loaves of bread the size of a man’s head. The
bread was good—so good that it was decided to make the
‘ mach, s« known, One day when it was in action the doctor
suggested taking a photograph of it. The inventor watched
o him as if petrified for a moment; then he fell upon the
machine wrenched it apart, and trampled it underfoot. The invention—an
exceedingly useful one—was lost, because no one had seen him make it, and
no one dares speak of it to him. To allude to it is to bring on a furious at
tack. Most lunatics, no matter how contented they may be, generally cher
ish a furtive longing to escape. They collect wax from the polished floors,
take the impressions of locks, and make keys from empty sardine boxes,
spoon handles, or anything to be found. Dr. Marie’s museum includes a col
leetion of knives of strange and unheard-of shapes. Some of them have
blades made from pieces of glass or slate and set in handles of corset steels.
Objects harmless in themselves become dangerous weapons through the in
genuity of madmen.
Insane sculptors are as common as insane painters. The insane sculp
tor hews out coarse statuettes, fantastic animals, ferocfous little horned and
grimacing devils. An ex-mechanic carves all his soup bones. That his old
trade is still in his memory is shown by the little screws that he makes out
of the smaller pieces of bone. He works all day at his senseless and ridiculous
task. Another lunatic, who believes he is the incarnation of the soul of Be
elzebub, passes his time carving toy men out of wood. Each pair of his cre
ations are joined together, now at the necks, now at the ghoulders.—Harper’'s
Weekly.
flp i n
roclivity and
C cti
ompunctions
By E. 5. Martin.
Mty LY pivd Yy L VAR PRV
NTHUSIASTIC professors expound to us that we consume
food in enormous excess of our reasonable needs, and per
haps we do; but we find eating a pleasant exercise and
stick to it, according to our various capacities, as long as
we can get food that suits us and our digestions hold out.
W ) As for drink, the habit of using beverages that are more or
less stimulating in their qualities is at least as old as his
tory, and doubtless very much older. Coeval with it have
been perception of its hezards and warnings against its
continuance. Hardly any major proclivity has such a bad name, or is battered
by such a fusillade of arguments and awful examples. That rum does any
oxe any good must seem doubtful even to its best friends., When you have
said that it is pleasant, and that, though it {8 immensely destructive to some
savages and to crowds of civilized individuals, a considerable proportion of
the most valuable people on the earth seem to be able to play with it without
serious damage to themselves, you have said almost all that it is safe to aver.
So great a cloud of compunctions swarm over that proclivity that you marvel
that there is any life left in it. They do keep down some of its vigor, so
that it is less destructive than it used to be, and probably they hope in time
to kill it altogether. One could wish that they might, and that it might
stay dead for a generation or two, till we cculd find out whether the world
was better or worse without it. But it i 8 not being killed. The army of com
punctions it maintains is evidence of its enormous vitality. To all seeming,
80 long as the earth continues to spin, there are likely to be cakes on It. and
also ale, but with great improvement probably by the human race in the
wise use of both.--Harper's Magazine.
e WL g bk T s s N Y 4
Y The Fl Th i
e I'lea, e Kai
JAnd The Plague
G T AT
By William Inglis.
———l S to the place and manner of origin of the plague germ, or
bacillus pestis, nothing definite is yet known. The manner
A of its travel and communication to man has been clearly
traced. The bacillus lives and breeds in the blood of the
———==="=|l rat. That rat is the victim of fleas which live upon his
blood, and as they feed draw into themselves the plague
bacilli which swim by thousands in his vital fluid. Thus in
e fected, and thereby as dangerous as so many little dynamite
bombs, the fleas pass with the rats into the habitations of
human beings which the rats intest, and there, from convenient floors or
chairs or beds, leap upon human victims,
The plague-bitten flea does not poison man with his bite, as the stegomyia
mhsqulto peisons by injecting the bacillus of yellow fever directly into the
blood. The flea, it s true, bites human beings as he bites other prey. He
sucks blood until he is replete, and then squirts blood trom his alimentary
canal upon his prey. Therein lies the peril. Plague bacilli are in this dis
charge, and if it be left undisturbed on the skin of the victim the bacilli will
penetrate the skin and tissues, enter the circulation, and thus infect the per
son upon whom the flea has fed.
It is this curious manner of infection by dejecta that makes the bubonic
plague peculiarly dangerous to people who do not bathe frequently. In Japan
and in the United States the spread of the disease among human beings even
in rat-infected cities is slow, while in India and China, and certain parts of
Europe, where people bathe seldom, if ever, the plague runs like wildfire. It
is almost impossible for a person who bathes twice a day to become infected
with bubonic plague.~—~Harper's Weekly,
SMy Sed LAo
The Cup That Cheers
.s, S s —
* By Yik Fong.
0%““00»0: F tea is freshly made with fresh water that has come to a
full boil and if not for immediate use poured off the tea
’ leaves in, say, five or six minutes into another teapot—and
use a “cosey” to keep the tea hot-—such hot tea will cool
you off better than any iced drink. Of course, we Ameri
cans favor cold drinks in hot weather, and iced tea with a
dash of lemon juice is without doubt the most satisfying
<« and refreshing of summer drinks. No typhoid germs are
possible, for the infusion has been boiled.
In the Orient the Chinaman and the native of Japan drink their tea Mot.
Hot water is poured on the leaves in very small teacups, and is sipped yrore
or less all day long, being continually replenished with fresh tea when the
brew becomes too strong. Even Europeans after tiffin, tired out with sight.
seeing, find marvelous recuperation in sipping their tea thus made.
There is no other way to make tea than to make it absolutely fresh. As
one hundred and fifty cups can be made from one pound of tea, it is an in:-
mensely profitable drink to sell at five cents a cup or glass, and to charge
fifteen to twenty cents for a_small pot of tea is to restrict the use of a bev
erage that in hot weather should be obtainable everywhere, even in saloous
without permission of any extreme temperance advocate, &
l’ CORDELIA.
The doctor withdrew the teaspoon
handle from Nan’s little pink tongue.
He placed his hands on her ghoul
ders, and holding her at arm’s length,
looked at her until her blue yes fell
before his gaze: Then he@i’ned
her about. ;
« . “If you can't do any better than
that in the way of a sore throit,” he
said, “you’d bhetter not open your
mouth at a doctor. Run along with
you.” |
Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief.
Nan's sensations, as described by her
self, had been go ettraordinary that
Cordelia had felt that they must have
medical investigation. To be sure,
Nan was inventive for eight years
old, but sxomehow Cordelia could
never help being alarmed at Nan’s
symptoms. Cordelia was by nature
anxious, as i# not unnatural in the
eldest of six. »
The doctor turned to Nan's mother.
~“And how are you, Mrs. Brath
waite?” he asked. ~
“Oh, I'm all right,” she answered.
“I don’t believe it,” he replied,
looking at her with a keenness that
caused Cordelia to transfer her anx
iety from Nan to her mother.
“Mothers have to be all right,” re
marked Mrs. Brathwaite, as with a
dexterous rear swoop of her arm
she extricated Bobs-baby from under
her rockers. 9t
The doctor gazed meditatively at
Bobs-baby. ¥rom below case a
sound of young voices, shrilly com
mingled. -
“Six of them,” said the doctor,
“‘the eldest of whom is—""
“Fourteen,” said Cordelia. “I'm
small for my age,” she added. She
was so tired of hearing other people
make this remark that she had taken
to making it herself,
The doctor turned from Bobs-baby
to Cordelia, the extreme gravity of
whose demeanor was somewhat coun
teracted by a tissue-paper cap that
fluttered over one ear and a pair of
worsted reing that dangled from her
shoulders.
“Playing horse?” he asked.
“Laura likes to drive me while I'm
making the beds,” explained Cor-l
delia, preoccupied with her mother’s
health.
‘“Are the beds finished?’’ suggested
the doctor. .
“Yes,” replied Cordelia, shortly,
turning red as she left the room. She
was not used to being dismissed on
any occasion of importance.
“You are sick,” said the doctor to
Mrs. Brathwaite,
“I am not!” gshe answered hotly.
“Your pulse!” She resisted a
childish impulse to sit on her hands.
“Now your tongue, if you please.”
Then, ‘“You are sick; if you don't
take care you’ll be sicker.,” . &
“I can’t help it. O, bafif"fiease
get off mama’s foot. Mama can’t ride
you now.”
“Come here, young man!’’ roared
the doctor.
‘“How long since you've been off
anywhere for a change?” he went
on with his interrogation.
“We went to mother’'s at Christ
mas.”
‘“Took the family with you?”
“Of course.”
‘“How long since you've been away ;
from—from that racket down
there?” 8 :
‘“Never.”
" “Do you mean to say that for
fourteen years you've never had one
day free from your children?”
“Doctor, I love my children! I
wouldn’t leave—"’
The doctor looked as if he desired
to be explosive, but thinking better
of it, gulped and said: ‘I beg your
pardon. But,” he persisted, ‘“don’t
you think you could manage to get
off for a little while soon—if you
tried?” ]
“It's impossible. Mr. Brathwaite's
vacation comes nest week, and —"
“Oh, he takes a vacation, does he?”’
“Of course!” Again her eyes
flashed, and again the doctor was
cowed.
‘““And you think you really can't
go away?”
“I cannot possibly go away,” she
answered, with tense lips. The doc
tor was growing tiresome.
“You'd better,” he said, rising;
“but if you won't, good morning!”
But the doctor was not through
with Cordelia. Before he could slip
out, having left the mother upstairs,
Cordelia had hyrried from the rear
regions, with sleeves rolled up and
hands damp washing.
“Doctor, is mama sick?’ she asked,
pushing him into the parlor and clos
ing the door. ‘ls mama sick?’ she
repeated.
“She says not.”
Cordelia was in no mood for trifi
ing. “But is she?” she demanded.
“l want to know what you think.”
“Yes, I think she is,”" he admitted.
“Ought she to go to bed?"”
‘“Under the circumstances, I don't‘
think that would do her much good.”
“Shall T make her some arrow-.
root?” asked Cordelia. But the doe
tor was discouraging about the ar
rowroot, also.
“What do you want me to do for
her, doctor?” Cordelia folded her
wiry, bare arms and looked at him.
She was a very plain little girl. She
had never had time to grow plump;
her features were Japanese rather
than otherwise, and her hair stood
out in a stiff black braid. But when
she smiled, and her liitle tilted nose
wrinkled {itself up almost to disap
peajance, and her almond eyes shone
and twinkled, and one dimple ap
peared on her freckled cheek—bui
this was no smiling matter, e
“I’'d keep her as guiet as possible,”
he said, ‘‘Make her lie down, and
keep the children away as much as|
you can. Don’t let her see or heax"
them. Rest is what she needs. If
she could go away—"’ '
““Oh, but she can’t! Papa is going
away, We're getting him ready now.
It’s very hard to make mama lie
down, but I'll try. Can't you give
her some medicine?”
He took out his prescription tab
let.
“0O dear!” exclaimed Cordelia,
abruptly.
The doctor followed her gaze out
of the window., ‘“What is it?” he
asked.
“Only Marjorie, going off to play
with Daisy Cole. 1 thought she’d
stay in and finish the dishes.”
The doctor whipped out of the
front door and bounded nimbly over
the lawn. Marjorie was unprepared,
therefore yielded to attack, and re
turned to the kitchen. Marjorie was
next to Cordelia in years, but not in
maturity. She was delightfully pret
ty, and had a tendency to shed re
sponsibilities.
“I’ll just leave this prescription at
the drug-store as I pass by,” said the
doctor, as he took his leave. In
wardly he considered that, his morn
ing round over, it would be passible
for him to run into the city for an
hour, and drop in on Mr. Braithwaite
at his office.
Cordelia closed the front door and
went up to her mother. She found
her moving about with nervous ra
pidity, pulling out drawers and shut
ting them again shortly, and laying
out various masculine garments on
the bed. Her cheeks were flushed
and her lips were tight-set. Cordelia
foresaw that it would be a particu
larly hard matter to make her lie
down,
Bobs-baby appeared to be very
much underfoot. Cordelia lifted him
out of her workbasket, and stood
holding him in her arms. He re
sented the interruption, and pounded
her vigorously; but she smiled at him
so persistently, as if not dreaming
he could wish to hurt her, that at
last he desisted and cuddled his head
down on her shoulder.
- ““Mama,” pleaded Cordelia, ‘‘don’t
you think you could let papa’s things
go for to-day, and rest instead?”’
“How can I? I must get these
things in order. Your father must
have his vacation.” There was a
ring in her mother's voice that Cor
delia had never heard before.
“It’s only Wednesday,” she begged,
“and he doesn't go till Saturday. If
you would rest to-day, perhaps you'd
feel more like working to-morrow.”
“There isn't any rest for me, and
1 shall never feel like working!”
She would hav: controlled herself
somehow in the presence of thc other |
children, but she could not keep the
words back when it was only Cor
delia.
A louder burst of noise from be
low; the mother put her hands to
her temples. ‘‘Oh, my head! If I
could only be quiet!” Then sudden
ly she sank into a chair, sobbing
wildly.
It was very dreadful for Cordelia
to se2. She dropped Bobs-baby, and
swiftly cleared her father’s clothes
from the bed, tucking them any
where, everywhere, out of sight. She
‘took her mother’s hand gently but
firmly.
“You must lie down, darling,” she
said.
She darkened the room quickly
and laid a wet cloth on her mother’s
brow, bent and kissed the drawn lips.
There was at times a great strength
and restfulness abhout Cordelia,
Again there was a sound of shout
ing and stampede in the kitchen be
low. The mother was quiet now, but
her forehead contracted in agony.
Cordelia caught up the baby and hur
ried down. There was nothing for it
but to sweep them all out of the
house for a picnic.
The tale Cordelia told in the kitch
en was dire and silencing. She knew
by experience that the sympathies of
the youngsters, Marjorie, Jamie,
Nan, Laura and Bobs, required pow
erful appeal.
When she had finished, Jamie's
lips were trembling, and even the
flibbertgibbet Marjorie’s eyes were
wide open with alarm. It is not
probable that any of them expected
ever to see their mother in the flesh
again, |
They creaked about the kitchen on
tiptoe, watching Cordelia’s prepar
ations ‘for the picnic with subdued
and fearsome pleasure. True, Bobs
baby exhibited a tendency to disap
pear and be found scuttling upstairs
on all fours toward his mother's
room; but determined hands plucked
him back by his little petticoats, and
determined sisterly palms were
clapped over his protesting mouth.
Having reduced her flock to such
unaccustomed and frightened docili
ty, Cordelia’'s motherly soul relented
to the extent of a whole glassful of
fréesh current jelly and five micro
scopic crumbs of the sacred and in
violate fruitcake.
Once safe in Pomfort's grove, a
secure three-quarters of a mile from
her mother's bedrcom, she gradually
allowed her spirits and those of the
other picnicers to rise. She led the
games with all her usual wizardry,
They would play they were off
camping, just as their father camped
every summer. Had he not deseribed
it in every detail, to their wonder
and delight? Their father's vaca
tions were like a visit to fairy-land
|for all his family. True, Cordelia
knew that during these vacations the
stay-at-homes did without beefsteak,
and, as she expressed it, lived out of
the garden—but why should they
not?
Cordelia’'s simplicity was some
times puzzled by the domestic feats
ner father described himself as per
forming during his expeditions. He
was always camp cook, and vet at
home, in their well-appoiated kiteh
en, with the convenience of an excel
lent gas range, he never attempted
any of that wonderful biscuit or gin
gerbread cr om:elet he boasted of
manufacturing with such delicious
success amid the primitive culinary
arrangements of the camp.
To-day, under the spell of Cor
delia’s glowing fancy, all six campers
had a glorious time, They shut their
ears against the half-hourly iniru
sions of the whistling, puffing sub
urban train; Pomfort’s woods be
came an Adirondack forest, where
behind the distant tree trunks they
could spy the brown flanks of deer,
while a far stump took the shape of
a bhear surprised at his berry-picking.
When at last the sinking sun
looked at them level across the roofs
of Pomfort’s stables, Cordelia gath
ered up her sisters and brothers and
her baskets and tin pails, and set off
homewards.
Meanwhile things had happened.
The doctor had gone to the city, he
had visited Mr. Brathwaite, and Mr.
Brathwaite had come home early, to
find his house deserted and preter
naturally silent, and a white and suf
fering woman in a darkened room up
stairs.
But that was two hours ago. Now, |
at five o’clock, two pairs of eyes, a
little misty, watched Cordelia as she
marshalled her brood up from the
back road and on through the mea
dows. |
At the garden fence she halted her
followers, and seemed to utter ad
monishing words, at which—most
curious sight!—they all squatted
down and waited in perfect quiet
while Cordelia proceeded alone to the
back door.
There in the doorway stood her
father and mother, and her mother,
although still pale, looked so marvel
cusly radiant that ten years seemed
to have dropped from her age. She
had on her white dress, and there
was a rose in her hair. Her father
wore his new linen suit, and he
looked flushed and hot, but very
happy. Through the door Cordelia
saw the dining-room table all set,
and on it was a great plate of ginger
bread and opposite that a heaping
mound of biscuits.
‘When Cordelia recovered from her
astonishment, her first words were
of reproach: r
*0 mama, why did you get up and
get supper? I was coming home in
time to do everything.”
“I didn’t do a single thing, dear;”
answered her mother, hugging her.
“Papa did it all.&ee. he made gin
gerbread and bis g
The parents very graciously per
mitted their hungry offspring to sit
down to table with them without any
further preparation than the wash
ing of their faces and hands.
At this supper there was a change
in the usual manner of seating. Or
dinarily Cordelia had Laura one side
and her mother had Bobs-baby next
to her, and Nan they shared between
them. Meals were rather busy occa
sions for Cordelia and her mother.
To-night their father placed him
self between Larua and Bobs-baby,
a change occasioning much joeulari
ty, which grew visibly feebler toward
the close of the meal,
“Do they always eat like thig?”
the father asked, as at last he pulled
back Laura’s high chair, attempting
at the same instant to evade Bobs
baby’s buttery caresses of his sleeve.
~ “Yes,” ’answered the mother,.
After supper the younger members
of the family were about to dance
out into the summer evening, after
their care-free habit; but a strong
voice called them back.
i “Marjorie and Nan, you will please
wash the dishes, and Jamie, your
mother’'s pansy-bed needs weeding;
and I think Laura is big enough to
amuse Bobs for a bit, and keep him
from bothering mama. To work, all
of you! Cordelia, don’t you want to
take an evening stroll with your old
daddy?”
Cordelia beamed with pleasure and
surprise. Such an honor had not
been hers for many a year. Usually
her father took the dainty four-year
old Laura by the hand.after supper,
or perched Bobs-baby on his shoul
der, and went romping with him
down the garden paths. Cordelia
supposed that fathers always pre
ferred the youngest ones.
But to-night the father chose Cor
delia, and put his arm about her and
called her sweetheart—plain, over
worked, overworried Cordelia. He
was a very nice father, very hand
some and dehonair and jolly. He led
his daughter to the apple-tree bench,
and there they sat and talked over
what the doctor thought about the
mother,
“The doctor says she must go
away,” said Cordelia's father.
“It's too bad that she can't,” re
joined Cordelia,
“Why can't she?”
“Because you are going away.”
“Is that all?” he asked, dryly.
“Well, I propose to vary my program
this year. I propose to take my va
cation in my awn suburban retraat,
and send your mother to the moun
tains.”
Cordelia gasped, but was speech
less.
“Why this surprise? 1 can cook,
can't I, young lady? And as for the
management of this family, it has oa
curred to me that a season of gentle
paternal discipline would not come
amiss. There is a pleasant littls
boarding-place ten miles this side of
camp, and mama could b ‘
sortable there.” TS com.
Cordelia’s face was
with astonishment. Sl blang
“The doctor says,” continued pe
father, “that it would be we .
mama to have one of her chim;eP
with her.” ; »
Cordelia was certainly very gepq.
for she replied in a resigned vqy.
“I suppose Bobs-baby wouldn't .
her go alone.”
Her father looked at her in gop,
puzzlement, and looking, noticeq how
thin she was, and what knobby lif(le
wrists she had. ;
“I'll settle that with Bobs-baly,»
he replied. “He is not to go. ,It
must be one of you who can 1o0)
after mama if she needs it.”
Still Cordelia’s little face ygq
turned up to him, anxious, uncop.
prehending.
“In short, Cordelia,” he concludeg
“you are to go with your mother "
~ Understanding slowly brighteneq
~over Cordelia’s face. Her eyes grey
‘starry, her lips trembled, her litt]e
nose wrinkled itself away. It wag 4
teary smile, but it was Cordelia’s
smile—which who could help kissing
for the precious, precious sweetness’g
of her? Then in the soft evening
shadow, ker father took Cordelia opn
his lap; he spoke a little huskily:
“Cordelia, there are at least two very
nice girls in my family—your moip.
er and yon.”—Youth’s Companion,
:0..0.....0.0..0..0.00006:
o 10
o 8
¢ A Present Day Utopia
:0.0...0.0.0...0..0.0&0@.:
Hugo Parton, writing in the Out
ing Magazine, says that the happiest
and most beautiful spot on earth to
day is the island of Moorea, one of
the Sandwich Islands in the South
Seas. As a contrast to strenuous
American methods this description
sounds alluring:
‘“Whenever you are thirsty a word
will send a lithe, brown body scramb
ling up a tall palm tree trunk and in
two minutes a green cocoanut is
ready for you to quaff—the nectar
of the Polynesian gods. It is worth
the trip down here to eat the native
‘vittals,” for you get at every meal
things you never tasted before, and
each seems better than its predeces
sor. To see your dinner of fresh
water shrimps, sharks’ fins ani
roasted sea urchins. The bananas
you eat—there are eleven varieties
—ba,lned,a%'aw, fried, dried, grow a
few rods back in the valley, ditto
the breadfruit, the pineapples and
about everything else on the bhoard.
It’s nice to have you morning coffee
grown in the back yard. Guavas
grow in such profusion they are used
as pig food, grated cocoanut is fed to
hens, while sensitive plant is consid
ered excellent fodder for cattle.
“For perfection of the human body
the Tahitian is unexcelled, if indeed
he is anywhere equalled. They are
a large race, both men and women
being noticably talier and more fully
developed than Anglo-Saxons. Every
man looks like a picked athlete with
sloping shoulders and bared chests.
A crowd of them together reminds
one of the scene in a ‘“‘locker build
ing” toward the end of the fall when
the ’varsity squad is narrowed down
and the afternoon’s practice is just
over. I doubt if any Society Islander
1 ever went through a whole day in his
life without having a wreath of flow
‘ers on his head or a blossom behind
' his ear. The love of flowers is in
nate with man, woman and child:
they can’t pass through a patch of
weods without emerging with a gar
land. Every gay mood calls for flow
ers on their hats, in their hair, be
hind their ears—and their life is an
almost unbroken sequence of gay
moods. Scarcely a native on the isl
and of Moorea can speak a sentence
of English, but every one you meet
greets you with a courteous smile
and the welcoming words ‘la-ora-na’
(Yorana).”
"' . WORDS OF WISDOM.
Love is never preserved in family
jars,
Poets are born—therefore parents
must be to blame.
People with small minds are apt
to use some big words.
It's impossible to make a doctor
be}leve that health is wealth.
Many a woman acquires her repu
tation for beauty at a drug store.
What’s the matter with putting
up an umbrella for a rainy day?
Clubs for men have added much
to the comforts of home.
It takes vigorous brains to gener
ate vigorous thoughts.
A woman judges the value of a let
ter by the length of the postseript.
If there’s one thing a boy enjoys
seeing more than a circus it is a dog
fight.
Although a cyclone carries every
thing before it, a lot of rain is left
behind.
Fortunate is the man with a pull—
provided he doesn’t pull the wrong
way.
One way to buy experience is to
speculate in futures.
Invisible patches are not used in
patching up quarrels.
Wise is the man who knows when
to treat and when to re-treat.
it's easy for a deaf mute to love a
girl’ more than tongue can tell.
Many a spinster who could have
married in haste repents at leisure.
“Many a married woman's idea of
a stylish hat is one that costs more
than her husband can afford to pay.
—TFrom “Pointed Paragraphs,” in
the Chicago News.
