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OCILI.A. GEORGIA.
HENDERSON k HANLON, Publishers.
The sanguine inventors are prom*
isiug a liquid air trust which will
leave nothing of the ice trust and coal
trust except a mass of shattered de-
lu i-.
desire for foreign conquest—a
wish to capture prizes now hold else¬
where—appears to’bave taken a deep
root in tho hearts of American col¬
lege athletes.
The ex-queen of tho Hawaiian Is-
latrtis and the ex-king of the Samoan
Islands might organize an aristocracy
that would set the pace so far as gen¬
uine royalty is concerned for the west¬
ern hemisphere.
If the purpose of the giver of tha
•‘America Cup” was to finally secure
the best form of vessel for sailing in
coatit waters that purpose seems to
have been fulfilled in tbe fact that both
the American and British vessels built
for the coming contest are substan¬
tially of the same type, with similar
appliances, and the contest is likely
to be decided by a mere chance differ¬
ence in the traveling of the vessels,or
in the happening of the wind. It is
worthy of note that both vessels are
absolute departures from tbe charac¬
teristics of the “America” 'ami the
competitors from whom she won the
trophy originally.
Probably some enterprising explor¬
er will soon attempt to reach the north
pole in an ice-crusher. We have a
fine one operating at the Mackinac
straits and doing duty as a railway
ferryboat at the same time, It .-ails
easily through ice two and a half feet
thick, and has broken down ice walls
as high as fifteen feet. But this is j
left far behind by a Russian boat in J
the Baltic steaming easily through ice j
five fees thick. Whereat her cbm- |
mandiug officer grows sanguine, and, \
accepting Nansen’s assertion that polar j
ice seldom attains twenty five feet in |
thickness, concludes that an ice- !
breaking steamer of 29,000 horse j
power would be strong enough to i
reach the pole. No doubt somebody j
will try it and spoil all the fun and 1
danger of north pole hunting.
Conversation is decaying and we
are degenerating into unsocial silence,
observes a writer in the Philadelphia I
Saturday Evening Post. This is not j
a negligible danger. Man’s chiei |
duty—his unending duty—the proper
aim of life —is to talk. Soldiers light, j
statesmen plan, attists paint poets j
rhyme merely that they may talk and
be talked about. Men live nobly iu
order to har e fine topics of conversa-
tiou. Books are written ndt so much
- - -
to be read as to be talked over. The
decav of conversation is a rea?Iy-made
sub J iect for the critically ", minded man
The divergence between the written
and spoken language is growing wider
every day. We talk in a sort of tele-
graphic slang. No sane man would
think of introducing into liis conver¬
sation the phrases and words of the
written language. >eiy litt.e oi tho
spoken language gets into print. In
the end the books will beat the
touches.
The idea that anyone who has ever
• been familiar with the delight of
driving an intelligent and spirited
horse will surrender that pleasure for
that of guiding a soulless machine
can only have occurred to a man city
born and bred, and thus deficient in
half the knowledge and experience
which makes for the happiness and
health of the race, says the Brooklyn
Eagle. The cheapening of horses,
which will come from the general use
of automobiles, will extend the possi¬
bilities of driving to many persons to
whom horses have been hopeless lux¬
uries heretofore. The bicycle has
already begun that process and many
people in the country now own horses
who could not have doue so at the ex¬
alted prices^which prevailed ten years
ago. The change is bound to go fur¬
ther, and although it will injure the
horse breeders it will still leave a mar¬
ket for horses of blood and breeding.
The demand which is left will be for
horses of the best quality,, and the
good horse will come into more honor
for the qualities which no machines
can possess, ami the poor horse will
no longer be worth his keep when the
automobile shall kave been made cheap.
So long as these machines cost from
$400 to $6000 each the horse need not
fear their competition outside the
busiest of city streets.
success comes always to those who
believe in printer’s ink judiciously
used. Let ns have your advertise-
in ent.
A LUCKY ESCAPE.
-
"I’m going to bring Nicholi around
to play for you, girls,” Rex Brooks said
to Ethel and me one evening. “He is
a superb pianist and intensely inter-
esting. I found him at a vecital at
music hall and interviewed him. He
has engagements enough already to
keep him here all winter.”
“Is he handsome?” I ventured htugh-
lngly.
“Very,” replied Rex, enthusiastically,
"and there’s a magnetism about him
you cannot resist. You’ll enjoy meet-
ing him, I’m sure.” And Rex kissed
Ethel good-by, little thinking he might
ever regret introducing to her a man
"who has eo much magnetism” about
him.
My sister Ethel had b«8n engaged to
Rex Brooks for a year and they expect-
ed to marry as soon as Rex’s promised
promotion to the editorial staff of the
daily occurred.
We girls were orphans and lived in
a tiny flat in the city, supporting our-
selves by giving lessons, Ethel In mu-
sic and I in drawing; and, although we
were poor, hardworking gkls, we man-
aged to get considerable pleasure out
of life. One of our greatest pleasures
was our friendship with Rex, a friend-
ship which, on the part of Rex and
Ethel, soon ripened into love. So when
they laughingly asked my consent to
their engagement—for I was two years
older than Ethel—I gave it willingly,
and Rex had been like a dear brother
to me ever since.
He was a noble, warm-hearted young
fellow, very industrious and ambitious
and I felt that Ethel would be safe in
his keeping.
A few evenings later Rex brought
Nicholi around. He was an Italian,
remarkably handsome, with a dark,
foreign sort of beauty, graceful in his
movements and possessing a voice
sweet and musical, although, having
been but a year or so in this country,
he spoke English rather imperfectly.
They had been in the room but a short
time when Rex begged Nicholi to play
for us.
He rose at once and went over to the
piano,
Then something strange happened,
He struck the keys in a plaintive min-
or chord and as the sound leaped forth
a little-ase of Venetian glass standing
------
PH llit -aiiifca* fi
if UK
m
a =~
Ptf m IraKf? ■Y inf ■ j I
m 1 VY
a 1
m '■C:' yn
Vi¬ r<
SHE LISTENED ATTENTIVELY.
on the mantel, a gift from Rex to
Ethel, was shivered to atoms as if by
a blow and fel1 in a tinkling shower
to the hearth beneath - We a11 s P ran ”
involuntary to our feet and Rex cried
out .
“Was it hit by a sound wave, Nich-
oil?”
“A thousand pardons,” Nicholi ex-
claimed; "it was my fault, and yet not.
Objects like people have a keynote. I
struck the keynote of the little vase, it
ma( j e rsponse and too great was the
effort, so it made a shatter—‘what you
call it?’ ”
We had been startled by the inci-
dent, but Nicholi’s words in his imper-
feot Sng!lsb crea -ted a revulsion of feel-
ing and we laughed heartily.
The fragments were gathered up and
tbe Italian returned quite calmly to
piano and played a weird composition
beginning with a swi , impassionei
movement which grad ly me g
men/ 1 ^ shivered as he ended I did
not like the man. nor did I like his
music.and vet I could not but acknowl-
edge the great charm of both.
"Nicholi would break a woman’s
heart with as mueh composure as he
broke your beautiful vase,” I said to
Ethel after the men had left.
“But he did not break the vase,
dear,” remonstrated Ethel; "you heard
what he said about the keynote, Nan.”
“Oh, yes, I heard,” was my reply,
"hut I do not understand it. But 1
am positive of this. If he found the
keynote, as he calls it, to a woman*
heart, he would not hesitate-”
“Come, come, Nan.” interrupted
Ethel, impatiently, “you are nervous
and cross tonight. Nicholi is nothing
to us, we may never see him again, but
you must acknowledge that he Is a su-
perlor musician, whom it is a great
treat to hear.” -
That night I dreamed that Ethel had
turned into a golden harp, the strings
of which seemed to be made from her
own beautiful sunny hair. Nicholi was
standing before the harp, and as I
looked he struck the strings violently
with a tuning-fork, holding it up to
his ear to catch the “keynote.” ■
The dream distressed me so that I
felt a forboding of ill and sincerely
hoped the musician would not repeat
his visit. But he came, again soon, and
ere long becams a frequent visitor.
Sometimes he came with Rex. but oft-
ener alone, and he always played. I
do not understand music, but I know
when it pleases me, usually, Yet I
could not analyze the effect NlcUoll’a
playing had on me,
It gave me a strange thrill, yet it loft
me depressed and fatigued, just as I
feel after reading an exciting book of
adventures. On Ethel it had a differ-
ent effect. It seemed to excite her
pleasantly and lift her out of herself;
1 she listened attentively, absorbing ev-
ery note. And although I knew she
adored music and I could see that it
was the man's talent and not his per-
sonallty which attracted her. I watched
her growing delight in his company
and was afraid,
I tried to warn Rex that this person
of whom he know but little except that
he was a genius, was dangerous, but
Rex, loving Ethel as he did with a
perfect trustfulness, only laughed at
my fears. I gave Nicholi cold looks
and colder words, but still he came,
Ethel thought me rude and prejudiced
and seemed incapable of comprehend-
ing my anxiety; yet I felt that he was
gaining more influence over her every
time they met.
go matters rested until one day Nich-
oli came, alone. He soon sat down to
the piano and, opening a new piece of
music, quickly tried the opening bar%
then suddenly exclaimed:
“This is peculiar. My wife would
say-” He broke off as if shot and
began to play very noisily, but it was
too late to drown his words, He had
unguardedly revealed a carefully con-
cealed secret and could not recall it.
So he had a wife! Why had he not
told us? We naturally supposed him
to be single a^nd Rex did not know,
Rex was always too hasty In taking
up with talented strangers he casually
met.
I drew a long breath of relief and
looked at Ethel. She had turned very
pale and I feared she would faint. I
pushed my vinagrette under her nose
and the .strong, pungent odor revived
her.
Then I began laughing and talking
so gayly that when Nicholi had finish-
e d his tempestuous composition she
had rallied and was seemingly as gay
as I.
‘‘I thinl: that is the last we will see
of Nicholi,” I said after he left us; and
my heart sang a psalm of joy, for I
saw that although my darling had re-
ceived a hurt, it was a mere surface
wound, and not a deep, serious one
that would fester and poison her hap-
piness for life. I was correct in my
prediction, for Nicholi never returned.
He dropped out of our daily life as if
he had never entered it. He evidently
was flattered by Ethel’s pleasure in his
company, and had meant to make a
conquest of her heart, which he might
break at will. But ha understood her
pure nature too well to think that she
would ever care for him when she
found he was sacredly'"bound to an-
other. And so he vanished.
je or a sb ort time Ethel was restless
and unsettled,but she soon crept grate-
fully back to the safe refuge of Rex’s
honest love, and he, dear, stupid, trust-
ing p 0Yerj never knew how near he
came to losing his most cherished
ear fhly possession.
A Moatln)f Fresh Air Hospital.
For twenty years a fl aating hospital
hag regularly carried out from New
YoI ' k each mornin S a load of infants,
to breathe the pure air which it is
difficult for them to obtain in the tene-
ments in which they dwell. On this
ship are a few cots and beds for
“cases” too ill to sit outside, but the
great mass of the patients sit or play
on deck, breathing fresh air and en-
! joying sea breezes. Then feeding-
j time comes round, and both the chil-
| dren and the mothers—for no infants
; come without their mothers—get, for
j once, a good meal. Bathing is another
great feature, and on the lower deck
0 f the floating hospital baths of vari-
ous sorts are supplied, so that the lit¬
tle ones return after their outing with
j c i ea n skins and full stomachs, with
: bo 4i e s revived by the sea air and
min( i s refreshed by new sights which
b h e y will not readily forget,
The Heauty of it.
Muggins—“What have you there—
Browning? You don’t mean to say
you enjoy reading that stuff? ' Sweet-
low—“Stuff? Why, sir, it is beauti¬
ful.” Muggins—“But do you really
understand what he is driving at?”
j Sweet'.ow—“Of course I don't. That’s
I ! the beauty of his writings.”—Boston
: ■ Transcript.
j More Than lie Expected.
| “Scribbler has had a story accepted
i at last. ’ Is it possible? “Yes. He
went home late last night with an
awful yarn, and bis wife believed it.” •
RAILWAY ACCIDENTS.
MOST OF THEM DUE TO LOSS
OF SLEEP. V
Engine*r Grown Reminiscent Over tho
Heading’ Wreck- How Billy Gardner
Awoke Just in Time to Prevent a
Freight Crashing Info a Passenger.
Washington Post; “I have been
reading carefully the evidence regard¬
ing the terrible accident at Exeter,
Pa,, on the Reading railroad, the other
day, and while it is contradictory, 1
believe that the verdict of the coroner’s
jury will he that some one of the em¬
ployes was asleep’ while on duty.” Tho
speaker was one of the oldest railroad
engineers in the country, who, after
twenty years in charge of the throttle
of a locomotive, voluntarily resigned
to seek other pursuits not so dangerous
or exciting. When the Pennsylvania
railroad was completed to Pittsburg
nearly fifty years ago he took the sec¬
ond locomotive over the Alleghany
mountains, with the late Thomas L,
Scott as his conductor, At that time
the Pennsylvania railroad named all of
its locomotives after rivers or creeks
along the line, and this engineer was
known as "Billy Gardner, qf the Black-
log,” the latter part of the title being
the name of the locomotive and the
former the engineer's name, Resum-
ing, tho engineer said: “There is
something about railroading that con-
duces to sleep. It may be the rumbling
that causes drowsiness, it may 1 ’ the
long hours on duty, but in many cases,
la my judgment, it is the failure of the
employes to secure needed rest when
they have the opportunity. During my
twenty years’ experience as a driver of
tlie iron horse I knew of hundreds of
severe wrecks due entirely to some one
being ‘aeleep on the post of duty.’
Even the responsibility imposed on the
nlan wou i<j no t have the effect-of caus-
icg jj im t0 keep awa i fe . Sometimes it
jg the fau j t 0 j t he higher officials in
compelling the men to work too long
gieep.
„j remember one occasion during
the flrst year of the c ; vil war when
M thfi members of my crew , includ-
jng myge]f were requ i re d to work 72
conse cutive hours without sleep, and
then were dismissed because we de-
dined to make another trip before
seeking repose. During that period
there were times that the only way I
could keep awake was to rub tobacco
juice into my eyes and the pain, of
necessity, banished slumber for a time,
However, when the superintendent
was told of the facts leading up to tho
dismissal he not only reinstated all
those dismissed, but gave them two
weeks’ leave of absence with pay. At
the same time the master mechanic,
who made the dismissals, came in for
a severe scoring at the hands of the
“But once in my railroad career did
I turn my engine over to my fireman
and go back to the caboose for a little
rest, and the narrow escape that I then
had from a severe wreck and the kill¬
ing and wounding of hundreds of
sleeping passengers taught me a les¬
son that was never fdrgotten. The in¬
cident occurred in Illinois, in Febru¬
ary, 1870. At that time I was running
an engine pulling a fast freight on
the Illinois Central railroad. My fire¬
man was a young man named Houck,
whom I had instructed in all that he
knew about railroading. My health
was not of tbe best at that tlme ’ as
1 had been an annual victim of the
ague that pervades southern Illinois,
and my system was shattered from
the ‘shakes.’ In addition, there was
some sickness among the members of
my family, with the result that my
nights at home would be broken, up
in looking after the comfort of the
loved ones. Business on the railroad
-was brisk, and there was a heavy pas-
senger traffic due to the annual Mardi
Gras celebration in New Orleans,
"On the night in question my train
was running south. I had a" five-and-
a-half foot Rogers engine and was
hauling 40 loaded cars. Along about
jo o’clock I found that. I could hardly
k«ep my eyes open. The road ahead
of me was clear of trains for an hour
« more. About the on] Y thi “S ° r im ‘
pertance in view was to meet and pass
the Chicago express at Makanda,
which was 24 miles away. I then yield-
ed to temptation Placing my fireman
in charge of the trottle, with the head
brakeman to do the firing, I went back
to the caboose to secure a little rest,
1 should not have taken this step if I
had not reposed every confidence in
my fireman, and I believed that he
was thoroughly competent to run the
engine.
“How long I slept I do not know,
but I awoke with the premonition tha^
something was wrong. As I regained
my senses I realized by the swaying
of the train that it was running much
faster than it would have been had 1
been in charge of the throttle. There
was a heavy down grade for five miles
to the point where I was to meet the
express, and my first thought was that
we had struck the grade and gained
the impetus. Springing to my feet I
hurried out the front door of the ca-
boose, and climbed to the top of the
flrst freight car. The sight that met
my eyes nearly paralyzed me. There
in full view I saw the headlight
the heavily loaded express train wait¬
ing at Makanda for my train to take
the sidetrack and permit it to pass.
How I got over that train to my en¬
gine I hardly know. But I did. Jump¬
ing down on the tender I sprang into
tbe cab, shut off the throttle, and took
other means to reduce the momentum.
“I glanced at the fireman. He was
3ound asleep on the seat; the head
brakeman kept him company on the
other ditle. I realized that it was ut¬
terly impossible to stop the speed of
the train, and I had visions of the aw¬
ful wreck that would follow. My en¬
gine was making 4.0 miles an hour, be¬
ing propelled by the heavily-laden cars
In the rear, and certain destruction
seemed to face, the express and the
hundreds of sleeping passengers, A
the rules required that I should stop,
and, after the head hrakeman had
opened the switch, should pull by the
passenger train, there seemed to be no
way to avert the disaster. All these
thoughts flew through my brain in a
twinkling, and as I expected to meet
death at my post, I wondered who
would care for my two boys who
would become' orphans. Fortunately
the siding,was a short one, and that
fact, coupled with my reputation as a
careful engineer, prevented the disas¬
ter at the critical moment and saved
the lives of many. The engineer of the
passenger train divined from the rum¬
ble made by my train that something
unusual had happened, He told me
afterward that he knew I would not
have approached that meeting place at
such rate of spieed if everything was
all right. When my train was about
300 -yards from the express I saw a
man run from the engine cf the ex¬
press train and throw the switch for
me. At the same time I could see by
the swinging of a lantern in the ex¬
press train that the switch at the other
end of the siding had also been
opened. The disaster had been avert-
ed. My train dashed onto the side-
track, past the express, and then out
on the main track again at the rate
of 35 miles an hour, and I could not
bring it to a standstill until I was
more than two miles past the station,
Y'ou can imagine the effect upon the
express if the engineer had not acted
as he did. It is needless for me to
add that during the remainder of my
career on the rail i never left my en-
gine again in charge of that fireman
or any other fireman. One such les¬
son was enough for me. Naturally,
my fireman was much chagrined over
hi,s act, but I never had confidence in
him afterward. He had b«n tried in
the balance and found wanting. A few
years later he was promoted to be an
engineer, and had been running his
engine but a short time when it ex¬
ploded, killing him, his fireman and a
brakeman.”
A “GIG.”
Obsolete In Its Mean Ing of a Flighty
Girl.
“Gig” has one or two obsolete and
rare meanings of interest, says the
Academy. 4 It is obsolete in its mean¬
ing of a flighty girl, though a writer
so comparatively modern as Mile.
D’Arblay wrote in her diary: “Char¬
lotte L- called, and the little gig
told all the quarrels.” In the sense of
an oddity or fool the word probably
survives locally. Whyte-Melvflle
makes someone say in “Kate Coven¬
try” “Such a oet of ‘gigs,’ my dear, I
never saw in my life. * * * Not a
good-lookmg man among them,” 5 et
note that the word is put into quota-
tion marks. In high gig meant in
high spirits, “Gig” had the third
meaning of fun, glee. Sir Walter
„ Besant , locates . the phrase in the thir-
ties of this century in his “Fifty Years
Ago”: “A laughter-loving lass of 18,
.who dearly loved a bii of gig.” No
connection with “giggle” is suggested.
By the way, I see that Mr,- Leslie
Stephen has had the temerity to write
of the house of commons ‘‘giggling
over some delicious story of bribery
and corruption.” Although “gig,” a
flighty girl, is obsolete, “gigglet,”
meaning the same thing, is apparently
not so. A writer in Chambers’ Jour-
nal uses it with effect in the sentence:
“Why should female clerks in the post-
al service consist of pert giglets hard-
ly out of their teens?” ‘Giglet fairs”
(for hiring female farm servants) are
still held in the west of England.
SUBWAYS IN EUROPE.
With this century’s close has come
a revival of the tendency to dig below
ground. A few decades ago there were
no long burrowing tunnels under Lon-
don except the wine cellars on the
river’s edge, where for centuries they
had existed, miles in length. To-day
as much traffic goes on under as above
the streets. It is feared big buildings
may collapse an a result of the tunnel¬
ing.
No one knows the extent of under-
ground Paris. There are constantly
being found subways and tunnels, the
existence of which was not known,and
subterranean v vaults and passages are
met with whenever excavation takes
place. These long passages are of
great use to burglars and criminals,
who know their extent and profit
thereby.
Rome is cut up underneath like
Paris. These subterranean passages
were in existence in the earliest days
of the Christian era, but were closed
and forgotten till the seventeenth gen-
tury, when they were discovered. No
■ one knows their extent, though they
may measure easily 1,000 miles.
Junior Republic.
Washington and Baltimore are about
to make a Junior Republic for news¬
boys, where the little fellows will make
their own laws, make their own judges
and police officers, and learn to be use¬
ful men. This plan has been tried for
five years in New York, and is a suc¬
[ cess.
!
i Only one person in every four of the
J j inhabitants $5 week. of London earn more than
a
THE BRAVE BASQUE.
A Froud and Unconqnered People AVho
l.ive ill thu Mountain* of Spain.
In the most northern part of Spain,
where the Pyrenees dip into the Bay
of Biscay, is • the country of the
Basques, the unconquered Spaniards.
These are the people of whom Caesar,
in his account of his conquest of
Spain, writes, "a few pretty people
higher up in the mountains, did not
make submission or send hostages.”
The Roman poets called these people
Iberians, and pictured them as almost
supernatural, whom neither hunger,
heat, cold, nor armies could conquer,
and whose greatest joy was 'facing
peril. The Basques of today bear tbe
stamp of this ancient people;'in char¬
acter, disposition, language and cus¬
toms, they arc entirely different from
the Spaniards south of them, and in¬
deed they can be classed with no other
race of the earth. Their earliest an-
cestors were probably the cave dwell¬
ers of the Alps and Pyrenees, whose
bones are found in the caverns of til
mountains, together with the remains
of thc*e gigantic animals which- were
the ancestors of our present quadru¬
peds. Only in this tiny country,
among the mountains have these
sturdy, stalwart people succeeded In
retaining anything of their own in¬
dividuality. If this is their true ori¬
gin, their earliest ancestors must have
lived twenty centuries before Christ,
and have been surrounded by a coun¬
try different in physical features, and
covered with plants and animals which
have long since ceased to exist. Since
those days long ago, their whole force
has been used in fighting their way in
the world, in trying to preserve their
racial distinction. All previous to the
Roman conquest of Spain is, as far
as Basque history is concerned, a
blank. Even the Romans found it im-
possible to conquer these sons of the
mountains, who, when hard pressed
by armies, or besieged in their forti¬
fied towns, dashed themselves from
the highest rocks, and died by their
own hands rather than surrender. At
length Caesar, with great wisdom,
mardo them his allies, since they would
not become his slaves. As followers
of hfs army they left their mountain
homes and often the tide of battle, and,
indeed, the trend of history has been
turned by their boldness and courage.
A few centuries later, it was the
Basques »rho fell upon tbe army of
Charlemagne and brought death and
disaster to the cause of the Franks.
But no sooner had they established
their claim to liberty with their north-
ern neighbors than they were met by
the Saracens, who had crossed into
Spain from Africa. In overcoming
these uusurpers, the Basques took so
active a part that they were all en¬
nobled, and now there is but. one class
among the Basques; to be a Basque is
to belong to the nobility. When the
late queen, Isabella, came to the
throne, the Basques sent to her thd fol-
lowing message: “Senora, In a little
corner of your kingdom is a people
few, living in a poor and rugged re-
gion; we will be loyal to you, if you
w jjj as we beg you to do, respect our
j uerog (parliaments) and the freedom
hag never been impaired.”
The Basque language is unlike any
j European tongue and is, in fact, al-
j j * unj fol , it can scarce iy be
clag8ed with an other language nor is
| any ol, her allied to it. It is highly in-
fleeted, each word and even each letter
of the alphabet being capable to
change to express many different Ideas,
Students of the Basque language tell
us that although it is hardest of
-tongues to learn, it is the richest of
languages, Until the fifteenth century-
there was no written Basque so, of
course, the literature is quite unim-
portant. This is a matter of much
regret for had this people written tra-
ditions of the far away centuries they
might throw much light upon^ those
early days, There are three Basque
provinces, Biscay (Vizcaya), Guipriz-
coa, and Alva. Each province has its
parliament, chosen by its own people,
and there is also a parliament of the
three, which decides the general policy
of the people and deals with the Span-
j ish government.
j In the mountains there are rich
i mines of iron, lead and zinc and the
valleys are sufficiently fertile to yield
grain of various kind's. Along the sea
coast the fisheries are extensive.
John Was Ready.
j Jn these days of proposed interna-
j tional alliances it is interesting to read
' of the little difficulty in which a Chi-
cago newsboy found himself involved,
and how he extricated himself there-
from, He had wandered over into one
of the “foreign quarters,’ on the nest
i side, where one can hear almost every
I language except our vernacular and
j he was set upon by two or thiee voys.
j He defended himself bravely ant .sas
; holding his own fairly well, until the
i two or three were joined by as many
more, and then the battle began to go
against him. “Say!” he yelled to a
j group of boys watching the fight trom
j the sidewalk, “is there an English boy
j in the crowd?” “Yes,” shouted a
stocklly built urchin of about his own
i size. “Come yere, then! panted the
young all American, his might, laying “an' abjlut wall clean him
with did.
out the hull gang!” And my
ProVmbllUiea to JR-
Wife (at breakfast)—I want to do
some shopping today, dear, if the
weather is favorable. Rvbat are the
forecasts? Husbami (consulting his
paper)—Rain, bail, thunder and light¬
ning. authoritXtelares
A dc-ntal that it is
not uncommon at fie present time to
find infants with fiecayc-d teeth and
| girls of 14 or 16 w<# rin S artificial teeth.