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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.