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Feed the Baby What ^
I It Wants %
i
By Dr. Woods Hutchinson.
BABY knows when he wants to eat and is provided with an
excellent and most musical apparatus for conveying that
A fact to your apprehension. He knows what he wants, and
will reject vigorously what doesn’t suit him. And you
may be sure that he knows far better than most adults
when he has had enough.
This faculty is present from his very earliest appearance
upon the stage of life. During the first three days of his
existence the healthy baby cries but little and sleeps al¬
most constantly; and we have now discovered that during this period he
not only requires no food, hut is better off without ,jt. 9.® is still digesting
and living upon the nourishment in his blood derived from the veins of his
mother, and until that process is completed, food in his little stomach is a
foreign body. In fact, the impression that colic or colickiness in a baby
is a natural characteristic is chiefly due to the senseless Insistence of
officious nurses and anxious mothers upon crowding things into the baby's
stomach during his first three days. There is another ciear indication on
the part of Nature of this fact, if we had only been open minded enough to
see it, in that there is no natural supply of nourishment for the child until
the close of these three days. The horrible things that are poked into the
unfortunate baby’s mouth in order to correct this stupid oversight on the
part of Nature and keep it from starving to death would almost stagger
credulity.
His faculty of knowing what he wants in the way of food is equally to
he trusted. He is largely a creature of circumstances here, and if what he
l sally likes doesn’t happen to he offered him, he of course can indicate no
preference for it. He vastly prefers Nature’s* own source of nourishment,
and Is a thousand times justified in his preference. Nature has taken a
quarter of a million years fitting a cow’s milk to grow not a baby, but a
calf, and a mother’s milk to grow a baby, and we cannot expect to com¬
pletely reverse the process In one generation. Not only Is the natural sup¬
ply a far better food, but it is infinitely freer from risks of contamination
and the conveyance of disease.—Woman’s Home Companion.
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r Railroad Regulation f
By William Jennings Bryan.
S it not time to ascertain wnat railroads are worth—to find
out through state and national bodies just what they are
I worth? They claim to be so much of a public institution
as to borrow a right of eminent domain from the state.
We want a reasonable rate; we want to stop the issuance
of watered stock and to stop fictitious capitalization. I
used to be called a dangerous man, a man trying to destroy
property rights. Now it is seen that''the destroyers of
property are the manipulators who rob stockholders. These
are the men who by their wickedness have brought odium on honest wealth.
In the interest of the widow and the orphan I demand that the stock of rail¬
roads be built on an honest basis. Some are always talking of the sacred
uess of property rights; Man comes first and property afterward. You can’t
protect property 1 rights by destroying human rights. It is time for the small
business man to come out from those with whom he has been associated and
fight against predatory wealth.
Railroad rates should be so reduced as to give a reasonable return on
hones! capitalization. I should define such a rate as one thd£ would keep
the stock at par on an honest capitalization. That would allow local business
conditions to determine how large the rate should be. The time has come
when we shall recognize another honest purchaser, not the innocent pur¬
chaser of stock—he can find out if the stock is good. I mean the innocent
purchaser of land along a railroad, whose right to a reasonable rate on his
product is us sacred as the right of the stockholder to a reasonable dividend.
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Dame Nature’s Part
How the Production of Monsters
Is Kept Down.
By Gordon Kelso.
HE discussion on “mismatlng” is enough to provoke a smile
on the face of Nat ure. That estimable dame lias her little
T hobbies the same as the rest of us, and her pet fad being
the maintenance of the average she accomplishes her pur¬
pose by making extremes meet whenever they appear. The
vast majority of tall men, for instance, mate with women
of medium height or under, and the tall women (except In
comparatively few cases, about the medium height for a
man) marries a man of her own height or slightly beneath
it, and there is overproduction of neither giants nor dwarfs.
But this principle governs individual selection not only through anatomy
but through temperament and mentality as well. The grouch marries the an¬
gel because he needs her In bis business, and the good natured, easy going,
manana type of man marries a woman whose motto is “No backward step”
and who stands constantly on guard at. his spinal column to see that be does¬
n’t sneak in a couple when she isn’t looking.
The individual of “purely speculative” tendencies, already mentioned in
this discussion, simply conformed to this law, whether he knows it or not.
when he picked out a “purely practical” wife. She is his ballast, and in all
probability if lie threw her overboard he’d perish of starvation between the
clouds ami the stars.
I know just such another couple, and perhaps a little incident from their
experience will illustrate the interdependence that exists in such a match
better than any abstract argufjlin,' can. They were walking along the street
one clear, cold night last wiutou * The. beauties of the sky thrilled him.
“How wonderful the stars'avei^he remarked.
“Yes,” she replied, h^r eyes on tile sidewalk, “but you’d better not step
on that ice.” ■ ,
She clipped his wings hut she saved his nd'ch.
The Side That Wasn’t Red.
Policeman (to tenant of fiat) And
you say the rug was stolon front your
hall, Can you give me any particulars
of it? It
Tenant (nervously)—Oh, yes.
was a fancy ■eversible rug—red on
one side and green on the other.
Policeman (impres ively)—Ah—and
which was the green side?—Punch.
A $5,1)00,000 fence was recently
erected in Australia to ke,ep the rab-.
bits -out-of the agricutural dis trict.
*
Topsy Turvy.
“I have something novel in the way
of a melodrama.”
“State your case.”
“The blacksmith is a rascal, while
the banker is as honest as the day is
long!”—Louisville Courter-Journal.
'Appropriate.
“WhY have you named your airship
the Sirloin?”
“I had an idea that would make it
„ Q up anything would.” —Chicago
Record-Herald.
SUPPOSE.
Suppose your mind a garden were,
All riady lor the spring,
And everything you planted there *
Would soon be blossoming.
Suppose that evil thoughts were weeds
That rankly grew apace.
And every dream of selfish deeds
Should blossom in disgrace;
While every Impulse to be kind,
To ease some other’s woes,
Should bud, and blossom in your mind
A fair and fragrant rose.
Suppose And that every Idle whim.
every thought of scorn,
Should find Its fruitage In a grim
And poison-laden thorn;
While every purpose of uplift
Your soul from sordid ways
Should blossom In a snow-white drift
Of tender Uly-sprays.
'Tls surely with no danger fraught
Supposing things like this—
And maybe here’s a seed of thought
To flower forth in bliss, Youth
—By John Kendrick Bangs, In s
Companion.
r zKJk.Jk.Jk. >
< What the Snow Tola l
4
j 1 ►
1 By ALICE E. ALLEN. ►
W 4 ►
Many jolly things happened that
winter up on the farm. But best of
all, David and Philip agreed, was the
big blizzard.
The storm began at night, The
snow came down in sheets. Behind it
came the wind, driving it against the
windows and heaping it in great
drifts around the house. Next morning
there were no paths, no roads, and
no fences. David and Philip tried one
window after another, but all they
could see was snow. David thought
he could see the wind, there was so
much of It everywhere. And, if he
could, why of course Philip could too.
When darkness came, everything
grew quiet. Through the window near
his bed a big bright star winked and
blinked straight at David. And another
star, almost as big and bright, hur¬
ried out and winked and blinked
straight at Philip.
Sure enough, next morning, the
storm was over. And what a changed
world David and Philip found outside!
A wonderful white world, crisp and
crackling with cold, and dazzling with
sparkles,—snow-sparkles, sky-sparkles,
and air-sparkles.
Old John harnessed Sampson to the
big iron kettle and started out to
break roads. He walked behind in
the track of the kettle, and In the
kettle, looking like a couple of mis¬
chievous brownies, rode David and
Philip.
After that, old John and David
and Philip made paths to the barn and
the chicken-house. Old John pointed
out some clear, sharp tracks in the
snow around the chicken-house. “Been
a fox ’round,” he said. “See how the
snow went and told on him?”
“Here’s where he leaped the fence,
isn’t it?” cried David in great ex¬
citement. He pointed to a long line of
footprints leading, fleet as the wind,
over the hill toward the woods.
“My—ee, wasn’t he in a hurry
though ?”
“Guess he heard old Towser bark
down to Brown’s farm,” said John.
“I did.”
■ So did I,” said David.
’N so did I,” said Philip.
“O John, here are some more foot¬
prints,” called David a minute later.
“They look ’most like some of the
stitches mother makes in her em¬
broidery. ft
“Ask the field mouse about ’em,”
said old John. “She’s been out malcin’
calls on her neighbors, and the snow’s
told on her. If you could get nearer
the woods, you’d see where the gray
rabbit's been hoppin’ along looking’
up some breakfast,—the marks of his
hind feet ahead of the fore feet every
single hop. Maybe the squirrel’s been
out too. If he has, the snow’ll tell
about it. • >
“What lots of stories the snow tells,
doesn’t it, John?” said David. His eyes
were fixed wistfully on the woods, far
off, dark, and quiet aga-inst the bright
sky.
“You’d ought to see a pa’tridge track
once,” said old John. “That’s a track
for you!”
“Where could I, John?’ asked Da¬
vid, eagerly.
Old John waved his hand in the
direction of the woods. “They keep to
the woods mostly,” he said.
Between mouthfuls of currant jam
and Bread and butter that night Da¬
vid asked, “Aunt Eunice, how big is a
pa’tridge track?”
“Bless the boy,” cried Eunice peer¬
ing at him over her glasses, “How
should I know?”
“It’s pretty big. I guess,” said Philip.
Dear heart alive!” said Aunt Lois,
“I suppose it is. There aren't many
partridges about here now.”
It wasn’t strange that. Aunt Lois
and Aunt Eunice didn’t know much
about the footprints of pa’tridges and
the woods and all such things. But old
John knew. Deep in his heart David
thought old John knew 7 about all the
things really tforth knowing.
Early the next morning David sat up
straight in bed. He shook Philip
awake. Then he shook him quiet.
“Hush,” he said, “I don’t w r ant to dis¬
turb any one, but I’m going out to
find a pa'tridge track. It didn’t seem
quite fair not to give you the chance
to go along if you wanted to. Do
you ?’’
Philip was ready as soon a 3 David.
Quietly they stole out of the house.
The sun was just coming up red as
fire beyond the dark woods. As far as
the path went, they went in it. When
it stopped, they stepped out bravely
into the snow. David had brought
along old John’s snow shovel; it was
heavy and awkward. They took turns
using it.
And, somehow, they got along until
there was only one field more between
them and the woods.
David was some distance ahead of
Philip; he was using the shovel. About
half-way across the field, he stopped
short.
There, just in front of him, on top
of the snow, crossing the path he was
making, was a long line of tracks. Da¬
vid rubbed his snow-blinded eyes and
stared at them fascinated. They were
such strange tracks. All in one fright¬
ened little minute David saw how
long they were, how broad, and how,
in places, they had cut sharply into
the snow. No bird—not even a
pa'tridge—could leave such gigantic
footprints behind him. Could an ani¬
mal? And how could such a big animal
walk on top of the snow?
Suddenly the whole world, which
had been so kind and beautiful, grew
strange and lonesome, The woods,
which had seemed so far away, looked
very near and dark and gloomy. Sup¬
pose the animal should decide to come
back the way he had gone and should
find David standing there, and should
see Philip just behind? Philip was a
little boy.
Mother said David must always take
care of him. David turned about. He
ran straight into Philip, knocking
him down. He pulled him up. “Hurry,
hurry, hurry!” he said in a queer
clicked little voice. “There’s been a
dreadful big animal along this way. I
guess he was looking for his break¬
fast. You mustn’t be afraid, Philip, but
he might be coming back soon now.”
Shivering with cold and fright,
plunging headlong into the snow,
tumbling over each other and the big
shovel, David and Philip rushed blind¬
ly back the way they had come. At
last, shovel and all, they staggered in¬
to old John, who had just come out
to feed the chickens.
“Sakes alive!” cried old John. He
looked as if he had been run into by
two big snow-balls. “What’s this? Why
bless my soul, it’s little David and lit¬
tle Philip.”
“O John,” panted David. That was
all ho had breath for. And all Philip
could gasp was “Oh!
David caught old John’s hand in
both his. “There’s been a dreadful big
animal across the lot over there next
to the woods,” he said. “It had terrible
eyes”—
“And such long fierce teeth,” said
Philip.
“Sakes alive! ft cried old John.
. v Where did you see it?”
“I didn’t see it,“ said David. “But
it’s footprints were in the snow.”
“It had just been along,” said Philip.
“I’ll get my gun,” said old John.
“Could It have been a panther, Da¬
vid?”
“Do panthers have feet a good deal
larger than yours, John?” said David.
“This animal’s feet were twice as long
as yours, and twice as broad. ft
Old John looked in a puzzled way at
his feet in their pontiacs.
“They were sort of rounded tracks,
•John,” went on David anxiously, He
look a stick and traced in the snow.
“They had a kind of little handle at
one lines end—=so; running’across and there were queer
them—so.
A look of sudden understanding
dawned on old John’s face. He threw
back bis head and laughed till he
had to stop to wipe the tears. “Want
to know what those tracks were?” he
said. “Those were snowshoe tracks;
there’s a pair hanging up in the shed.
After breakfast, you can try ’em. And
the animal,”—old Jphn chuckled—“the
animal that wore ’em, David, was old
Farmer Brown!”—Christian Register.
Kansas Woman Probate Judge.
Governor Iloch has settled the
Mitchell county Probate Judge fight
by appointing Mrs. Levi Cooper to
the job.
Mrs. Cooper is the widow of the
late Probate Judge, who died about
a week ago. During her husband’s
life she w r as deputy Probate Judge
and thoroughly understands the work
of the office. When Mr. Cooper died,
P. G. Chubbic and Cyrus Gaston ap¬
plied for the place, and each one
agreed to leave Mrs. Cooper in as
Judge pro tem.
■‘I got to thinking the matter over,”
gaid Governor Hoch, “and decided
that if M-rs. Cooper was so valuable
in the office there was no reason -why
she should not be appointed herself.
So I have just decided to appoint her
and settle the contest that way. So
far as I know Mrs. Cooper is the first
and only woman Probate Judge in the
State.”—Topeka State Journal.
Our Trains.
The American Globe Trotter—Talk
about traveling. Why, in America
trains go so fast that it takes two
people to talk about ’em—one to say
"Here she comes!” and the other to
say, “There she goes!"—Sketch,
STst 1
S>unbatj-ScKc>of
INTERNATIONAL LESSON COM.
MENTS FOR SEPTEMBER 20.
Review of the Eleven Preceding Les¬
sons For tiie Tliird Quarter_
Golden Text, 2 Samuel 5:12—
Read Psalm 18.
Golden Text: n And David per¬
ceived that the Lord had established
him king over Israel, and that he had
exalted his kingdom for his people
Israel’s sake. ■ > 2 Sam. 5:12.
Each of the lessons of this quarter
teaches us something about the prin¬
ciples upon which God deals with man
and something also about how men
treat God.
In Lesson I. we see the constant
disposition of the human heart to re¬
ject God and to refuse to have Him
rule over us. We see also when men
choose some one else before God, He
lets them have their own mad choice
in order that they may learn their
folly by bitter experience.
In Lesson II. we see again the dis¬
position of the human heart to reject
God, even after He had saved us out
of all our calamities and distresses.
In Lesson III. we see God’s long
suffering toward those who reject
Him and His love in bringing His un¬
grateful people to a consciousness of
their sin and His unwillingness to for¬
sake His people.
In Lesson IV. we see that the one
thing that God demands from His
servants is obedience, arsd hov; if one
rejects the Word of the Lord, the
Lord will also reject him.
In Lesson V. we see that when one
servant fails God He chooses another
to fill his place and anoints him with
the Holy Spirit that he may be quali¬
fied for the work to which he has
been called.
In Lesson VI. we see how the Lord
gives victory to those who trust in
Him and He saves, not with the sword
and spear, but by the power of His
own name.
In Lesson VII. we see that the Lord
is with the one that trusts and obeys
and gives him favor with men and
makes him the terror of His enemies.
In Lesson VIII. we learn how God
delivers His servants even in times of
greatest peril.
In Lesson IX. we see that God de¬
livers our enemies into our hands, but
that vengeance belong unto Him.
In Lesson X. we see the awful fate
of the one whom God had rejected
and how God clears the way for the
one who leaves his exaltation entirely
in God’^tiands.
In Lesson XI. we see that God will
guide the one who commits his way
unto Him and leans not upon his own
understanding, and that God deals
with us as we deal with our fellow
men.
God is Leading.
No room for a discouraged or de¬
pressed feeling is left you. If your
sphere is outwardly humble, if it even
appears to be quite insignificant, God
understands it better than you do,
and it is a part of His wisdom to bring
out great sentiments in humble con¬
ditions, great principles in works
that are outwardly trivial, great char¬
acters under great adversities and
heavy loads of encumbrance.
Let it fill you with cheering and ex¬
alted feeling, however deep in ob¬
scurity your lot may be, that God is
leading you on, girding you for a
work, preparing you for a good that
is worthy of His divine magnificence.
If God is really preparing us all to
become that which is the very highest
and best thing possible, there ought
never to be a discouraged or uncheer¬
ful being in the world.—Horace
Bushnell.
The Prayer That Prevails.
It has been said that every true
prayer has a foreground and a back¬
ground. The foreground of prayer is
an intense, immediate desire for
something which seems necessary to
the soul; the background is the
earnest desire that the will of God,
whatever it may be, shall be done.
Leave out the foreground, and there
is danger of fatalism. Leave out
the background, and only an expres¬
sion of self-will is left. The perfect
prayer—the prayer that prevails—
must have background and fore¬
ground, desire and submission.—The
Rev. J. R. Miller.
The Winds That Strengthen.
The air from the sea of affliction is
extremely beneficial to invalid Chris¬
tians, says Spurgeon. Continued pros¬
perity, like a warm atmosphere, has
a tendency to unbind the sinews and
soften the bones; but the cold winds
of trouble make us sturdy, hardy and
well-braced in every part. Unbroken
success often leads to an undervalu¬
ing of mercies and forgetfulness of
the Giver; but the withdrawal of the
sunshine leads us to look for the sun.
The Future.
If there be no hereafter and no
future vindication of the upright,
then virtue and purity are but names,
and the only possible conclusion is,
“let us eat and drink, for to-morrow
we die.”—The Rev. W. P. George,
Denver.
Get Busy.
You cannot cancel the custom of
preying on ytmr fellows by occasional
praying to your Father above.
The Good Life.
A good life is impossible until one
knows that therS is ever something
more desirable than living.