Newspaper Page Text
Why
Aliens Will Come Back
' find the Cause of Their Exodus at the :■
Present Tims
By T. V. Powderly.
Chief of the Division of Information . Bureau of
Immigration.
E VERAL causes combine to bring about the eastward march
% T of the aliens now leaving us. Every year a great The number rail
l S 4 , of aliens return to their homes for the winter.
* roads, particularly in the North, East and West, lay off
<. men engaged in outdoor work and, following this, others
+ are thrown out of employment. These men find it desir¬
* able to return to their old homes for the winter. They
have the opportunity to- visit their friends and relatives,
and can live much cheaper there during the winter than
here, for food and lodging are cheaper and the climate is not so severe.
In other years the exodus began the latter part of October and continued
up to Christmas, but this season the rush was accentuated by the financial
flurry. Those who imagine that our aliens do not read are somewhat in er¬
ror, for those who cannot read have others to read to them, and they keep
a sharp eye upon the trend of events in this country, so that when the pa¬
pers announced under scare head lines that things were going w'rong, these
men, not trained to analyze the statements made, took alarm and quite a
number more went awifr than would have gone in former years.
Another cause is to be found in the fact that every four years, preceding
the Presidential election, there is a tendency eastward on the part of the al¬
iens. They hear so much said about the uncertainty of Presidential year that
they prefer to take no chances and go home early.
There is still another cause for the return of Italians to their native land.
It is estimated that about $100,000,000 will be expended in Italy in bringing
the railways up to a proper standard of efficiency, and Italy is calling her
sons who have learned how to make good railroads in this country back to
their old homes. f
There is more work to do in this country than ever before; there is a
necessity for more men and women to do it, and the first months of next
year will sqe a return of aliens who will be able to find remunerative employ¬
ment in this country.
t How the Sun Has Puzzled ?
Astronomers
By W aide mar Kaempfferf i
HE great hall of fire-which we call the sun is not really the
IT | than sun. trie ly than nothing shells the nine-tenths No fiercest one envelop except has furnace, of ever that a the nucleus it seen solar and must the that of mass. be which sun. It almost must That A we series ajnount infinitely know nucleus of absolute¬ to concen- is hotter more the
X ♦ real sun, forever hidden from us. The outermost of the
enveloping shells Is about five thousand miles thick, and is
called the “chromosphere, It is a gaseous flood, tinted
with the scarlet glare of hydrogen, and so furiously active that it spurts up
great tongues of glowing gas (“prominences”) to a height of thousands of
miles. Time was when this agitated sea of crimson fire could be seen to ad¬
vantage only during an eclipse; now special instruments are used which en¬
able astronomers to study it in the full glare of the sun. Beyond the chromo¬
sphere, far beyond the prominences even, lies the nebulous pallid “corona,”
visible only during the vanishing moments of a total eclipse, aggregating not
more than seven days in a century. No one has ever satisfactorily explained
how the highly attenuated matter composing both the prominences and the
corona is supported without falling back into the sun under the pull of solar
gravitation. Now that Arrhenius has cosmically applied the effects of light
pressure a solution is presented.
How difficult it is to account for such delicate streamers as the “prom¬
inences” on the sun is better comprehended when we fully understand how
relentlessly powerful Is the grip of solar gravitation. If the sun were a hab¬
itable globe and you could transport yourself to its surface, you would find
yourself pulled down so forcibly by gravitation that you would weigh two tons,
assuming that you are an ordinary human being. Your clothing alone
would weigh more than one hundred pounds. Baseball could be played in
a solar drawing room; for there would he some difficulty in throwing a ball
more than thirty feet. Tennis would he degraded to a form of outdoor plng
pong. From these considerations it is plain that gravitation on the sun would
tend to prevent the formation of any lambent streamers and to pull down to
its surface masses of any size.—Harper’s Magazine.
r The 1
American Accent
By Ella Hepworth Dixon.
T last our good American friends have acknowledged that it
is they, and not ourselves, who have the "accent.” This is
a great step toward improving the American language, for
A Franciscan up that Islander to his now speech were the was New well at one spoiled bred, Yorker, in assuring by the his rule, Bostonian, “English the to betray traveling accent.” and the Islander emotion The San
was too as a any
or astonishment at this accusation, but he thought a lot
Perhaps his thought was communicated to certain pundits
on the other side, for an American Speech Reform Association has just been
started, with the laudable intention of teaching young. America to speak the
Jifciguage of England, instead of the weird and complicated tongue which is
the result of the salad of races and nationalities thrown hodge-podge on
to the American continent. Already the society has issued a pamphlet im¬
ploring its compatriots “not to splash your words one into each other,” “not
to talk through the nose with your mouth tight shut,” and “not to use the
same phrase a thousand times a day.” Even by employing these simple Londoner ex
^pedients, the New Yorker might make himself understood by a
without going to the trouble of learning Esperanto, As for the astute Amer
ican girl, she has long seen the expediency of approximating her speech to
our own.—London Sketch.
Giving Her a TusSle.
“Good gracious! Look! What can be
the matter? There—across the street.
What is it that is tossing that worn
an about from side to side in such a
violent manner?”
“Possibly she is trying to hold her
tongue.”—Puck.
Up to 3906 Pennsylvania produced
more natural gas than she ccmld make
use of, but now it is necessary to
draw upon the supply of Y/est Vir¬
ginia.
On the Jump.
“The last time I gave you money,”
said the kindly old lady, “you prom¬
ised you wouldn’t walk right into a
saloon and spend it."
“Dat's right, lady,” said the hobo.
“Yes, but as soon as you got the
money you did.”
“Say! lady, don’t youse know the
difference between a walk and a
sprint?”—Philadelphia Press.
The telephone service of Switzer
land is operated by the government
11IS FIDDLE.
Ilis tender, I.
At last ne’s siveet solved life-story’s the riddle! told—
He'll usk 'em not for harps of gold:
He'll only want his fiddle!
*Tvna far ii.
away for hi'-t to roam
An’ eyes with teardro glistened:
When he waa playin Home,
I know Home,"
• the angels listened.
III.
Seemed like that music, thrillin' far,
A heavenly touch was given,
Sweet as the singin’ of a star
Heard in a dream o’ heaven!
IV.
An echo came of unseen wings
As o’er the lust dark river;
A strange, sweet tremblin’ o’ the
And tuey were stilled forever.
V.
But in that higher land an’ fair
Where now he read’s Life riddle.
Perhaps An’ they’ll need his music there
—Frank give him back his fiddle!
L. Stanton, in Uncle Remus's
The Home Magazine.
j
Gladys and Victoria
They Avoid That Dreffle
lizabeth in the Basement.
It, J.
“Let’s stay down here in the base¬
ment till that dreffle ’Lizabeth goes
home,” said Victoria, looking over the
edge of the anchored school drink¬
ing cup, which she still held to her
lips.
"The janitor will chase us out if he
sees us,” said Gladys, lookihg around.
“And Marie told me thatcnce she saw
a mouse down here. And Harriet
said that one day last fall a boy
threw a snake in here right on a girl.
Maybe it will come out when it thinks
no one is around.” She shivered and
glanced all about her fearfully.
“Well, Gladys Hammill, I’d he
ashamed of myself to be afraid of
such a little thing as a mouse, and
everybody knows that snakes die in
winter,” said Victoria severely.
“Why, a mouse couldn’t hurt you the
teeniest little hit in the world—”
“Oh! Oh! ” shrieke4 Gladys, jump¬
ing nimbly on the bench. “I saw
oae. It ran into the waste basket.”
“I don’t think it was one,” said
Victoria, looking warily around from
her perch on the narrow window sill.
“I think it was a piece of paper. I
wouldn’t be like you for anything in
this world—always jumping around
and scaring people.”
“Well, you jumped higher than I
did,” said Gladys with more spirit
than she usually showed. “And if
you’d be ashemed of yourself, why
did you get on the window? I wasn’t
as afraid as you. I stayed on the
bench.”
Victoria took refuge in dignified
silence. Seating herself as far from
Gladys as the length of the bench per¬
mitted, she began to study her spell¬
ing lesson diligently, whiie Gladys,
humming to herself with her feet
tucked up safety's looked nervously
around.
“S-e-p-a-r-a-t-e,” spelled Victoria,
her eyes closed.
“A rat! ” said Gladys, explosively.
Victoria shrieked and scrambled
for the window sill again, but Gladys
got there first this time, and de¬
manded from her lofty shelf: "What
is it? Where did it go? Was it a
mouse again?”
"You said it was a rat,” said Vic¬
toria, trembling, Everybody is
afraid of rats; they suck your
fcreath ”
“Why, Vicky, I ne^er said there
was a rat,” said Gladys, indignantly.
“I never in this world did.”
“Why, Gladys Hammill, you did,
too. Didn’t you say, “A rat!’ just like
that?” demanded Victoria.
“Yes, but that was for ‘separate.’
Don’t, you remember that teacher
told us there was ‘a rat’ in the middle,
so we’d remember and not put that
little old ‘e’ in it?”
“Well, why didn’t yau say :.o,
then?” demanded Victoria.
"I did, Vicky, and then you jumped
and I thought you saw something.”
"You’re such a fraidy cat, Gladys,
that you make everybody else fraidy
cats, too. Come out and play tag.
’Lizabeth must be home by now. ”
They ran out of the basement of
the school building and had played
but a few minutes when down the
stairs clattered the belated Elizabeth
and joined the game by hitting Gladys
a sounding thump on the hack,
shrieking that she was “it.”
fou go right straight home, ’Liza¬
beth, and don’t play with us,” com¬
manded Victoria. “We don’t want
to play with a girl that tells things
that ain’t true. Go right away, or
I’ll tell Mollie what you said about
her the other day and she won’t do
a thing to you.”
“There’s Mollie, now,” said Gladys.
“Let’s tell her.”
“Mollie! Mollie! ♦ «« shrieked Eliza¬
beth, before the little girls could col¬
lect their thoughts, Vicky says you
tell things that ain’t true.”
Mollie, with a rush, descended upon
tham, while Victoria stood helpless
and speechless, rooted to the
with horror and amazement.
“MolHe, you may have my
pencil,” quavered Gladys, before
ten-year-old amazon had reached
them. “l-Iere it is, all nice and
ened.”
"I wouldn’t take it, if I was you,
said Elizabeth.
But the eager fingers had closed
over the treasure which had been her
heart’s desire for weeks, and Mollio
was speeding down the street to get
out of sight before Gladys should
change her mind.
"Now, smarty,” began Elizabeth.
Eut her speech fled at the sight of
Ralph, her sworn enemy, who came
around the corner with a grocery
basket. .Before he had time to put
the basket in a safe place she was
running away at the top of her speed.
“That kid is going to get what’s
coming to her pretty soon,” remarked
Ralph, resuming his burden. “She’s
a peach, I don’t think.”
“Don’t you care, Gladys,” said Vic¬
toria to her mournful play fellow.
“I’ll make my brother Billy give you
his new little bull pup that he is so
crazy about; that’s better than an
old blue pencil.”
“It wasn’t so very old and it was
so lovely, Vicky,” said Gladys, with a
lump in her throat, Maybe Billy
won’t give me the little dog.”
“If he doesn’t,” said Vict.oria, un¬
easily, “he’ll have to fight ’Lizabeth’s
brother again, and his eyes are all
swelled up yet from the last time.
’Lizabeth’s brother is so much bigger
than lie is that Bijly hasn’t any
show.”—Chicago News.
THE LITTLE COMMODORE
And a Seaman’s Seventh Trip Through
the Inland Sea.
He came aboard at Nagasaki,
dressed all in gray, every snap of his
keen black eyes telling that he was
not delighted with his berth, and for
that matter neither were we, the
crew, exultant when we looked to our
gallant-mast and saw that we had
lost a star, for instead of an ad¬
miral’s pennant with two stars we fly
the one star of a commodore. It was
Commodore Dewey who was succeed¬
ing Rear-Admiral McNair. McCue
timed his sweeping to accompany his
cracked voice, and sang:
“Hurrah, hurrah! for southern right
hurrah!
Hurrah for the bonnie blue flag, that
bears a single star.”
But the swallowtail saves it. Oh,
the discriminations of flags and pen¬
nant! Some day, when I have noth¬
ing to do, I will go to the flag locker,
ust around from the ship’s library,
study them out, and write a descrip¬
tive poem about them. A flag that
means “yes” at the main truck means
“no” on the after gaff. We carry the
ensign of every country under the
sun, and among our rating flags there
are blue fields with one, two, three
or four white stars, standing respec¬
tively for commodore, rear-admiral,
vice-admiral and admiral. Of the last
our navy has had but two—Farragut
and Porter. It will cost another war
to restore the office.
Purdy recognized the newcomer on
sight; says he cruised the Mediter¬
ranean with him when he was a
middy, and Scotty says, “Him and me
was shipmates with Farragut at New
Orleans.” These two, with others of
the old guard, having approved, we
have nothing to do but accept their
verdict, and certain it is he can ren¬
der an admiral’s inspection quite as
miserable as his predecessor. This
through with we started back for
Yokohama, making our seventh trip
through the Inland Sea.
I have seen it in the rosy bloom of
spring; in summer, when the purpling
mists from the hills came down and
nestled among the pendant wistarias;
in autumn, when the rose had deep¬
ened into crimson and the golden kiss
of Midas awakened it to unwonted
splendor. But on this, my last voy¬
age, I thought it more bea”tiful than
ever before, for the cold winds com¬
ing down from the home of eternal
snow crisped the air until the halos
on the heads of the sailors, guardian
angels shone with uncommon radi¬
ance.
Some time I am coming here again;
coming when I may sleep all day un¬
disturbed in my berth, and lie awake
all night upon the deck, watching the
stars as they guide the mariner upon
his way. Or I will loaf all day upon
the deck and sleep at night, Oh, joy
in the thought to sleep again a whole
night through!—From "Three Years
Behind the Guns,” in St. Nicholas.
The So-Called Frost Flowers.
The phenomena called “frost flow- i
ers” was discussed before the Bio¬
logical Society in Washington recent¬
ly by Dr. Walters. The so-called flow¬
ers are composed of ice that forms
on frosty mornings in autumn and
early winter on certain plants. The
peculiar thing to be explained is that
frost flowers do not form on all
plants, but only on about twenty-six
species, as far as yet known. Among
these are frostweed, dittany, marsh
fleabanes and cultivated heliotrope.
The phenomena is apparently due to
capillary movement of water in the
plant, but a wholly satisfactory expla¬
nation is lacking.
9
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1 Is)
An Early “Good Road. «*
The desire to speculate a hundred
or more years ago was apparently
b - >• reat as it is to-day. An example
of this is shown by the organization
of a company in 1792 to build a turn¬
pike from Philadelphia to Lancaster
Pa., a distance of sixty miles, The
charter was secured, and in ten dr iys
2235 subscribers made application
for stock. As this was more than
the law allowed, the names were
placed in a lottery wheel and GOO
were drawn; with these subscriptions
the work began. The road builders
of that day knew little or nothing re
garding the construction of high¬
ways, and the ridiculous mistakes
! made on this occasion taught them
some valuable lessons. The land was
condemned, the trees felled and the
roadbed prepared. The largest
stones that could be found were
dumped upon it for a foundation,
and upon this colossal base earth
and gravel were spread; then the
work was declared complete; but
when the washing rar*s came dfeep
holes appeared on every hand, sharp
stones protruded from the surface,
and the horses received scratched
and broken limbs as they sank be¬
tween the bowlders up to their knees.
The gigantic error of the road build¬
er was then made plain. Indigna¬
tion meetings were held, at which
the turnpike company was con¬
demned and the legislature blamed
for giving the charter. Had it not
been for an Englishman who offered
to rebuild the turnpike on the mac¬
adam plan, as he had seen roads
built in the “old country,” improved
road construction would have re¬
ceived a severe blow. The English¬
man’s proposition was accepted by
the company, and he was successful
in completing the Lancaster and
Philadelphia turnpike road, which
■was then declared to be the best piece
of highway in the United States—
<« a masterpiece of its kind.”— G. E.
M., in the Indiana Farmer.
The Price of Bad Roads.
In reducing the good roads ques¬
tion to the dollars and cents basis,
the Department of Agriculture has
handed the farmers and country tax
payers generally an argument which
they ought to find irresistible. The
department’s figures are based on
careful and exhaustive tests. They
demonstrate that the actual cost of
hauling, per ton-mile, is sixty-four
cents over dry, sandy roads, eighty
nine cents over earth roads of the
usual muddy and rutted variety, 11.9
cents on broken stone roads in ordi¬
nary condition, and eight cents on
broken stone roads in good condi¬
tion.
This means, concretely, that good
roads pay ample cash dividends, and
that the saving which they make
possible far overbalances the cost of
construction. A road of broken
stone means consistently reduced
expenses as long as it lasts. It cost
the farmers $21,650,000 to haul the
wheat crop to the railroads in 1906.
This was an average price., for all
drayage, of nineteen cents a ton
mile. But where there were im¬
proved roads, the figures show that
the drayage cost was only ten cents
per ton-mile. Had all the corn,
wheat and cotton crops of 1906 been
hauled over good roads, the pro¬
ducers of them would have saved
$27,000,000.
How long will Virginia farmers
continue to pay the heavy toll of bad
roads ?—Richmond Times-Dispatch.
A Recent Decision.
A recent opinion by Attorney-Gen¬
eral Malone, of Massachusetts, is of
interest to cities and towns that have
adopted the plan of oiling highways
to keep down the dust, Mr. Malone
holds that there is no liability on the
part of the authorities for damages
resulting from the use of oil and tar
roads. His reasoning is that there
no more ground for holding a town
city responsible for injury to
or. vehicles by oil than there
for assessing damages when some¬
is spattered with mud. Among
places that have taken to
oil on highways is Yon
where the splendid macadam
North Broadway has been heavity
with crude petroleuni,
to the satisfaction of residents
motor enthusiasts.—New York
Gallantry. actual;.
Here is something that
at Eean Lake yesterday AU ■
young couple drove over from J*
They went boating, and the
took off her shoes and stock 1 .,
paddle her feet in the water. V hi •
went to put on her stockings she
one of them, The young man
off his socks and gave them
supporters and all. She wo
back to town, and he wore ins
without any socks.—Atchison