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VOL. 1. WHY IS THE WORLD SO SAD? “Why is the king so sad, father, why is tho king so sad? blessed; More than his sire the kina is The times are fair and the laud of, rest, With the little prince on the queen’s fair breast. sad?” Why is the king so He put the womap he loved aside; He steeled his heart when his truo love cried, And took a princess to be his bride, And so the king is sad. “Why is the rich man sad, tuther, why is tho rich man sad? Fuir on the Hills his turrets glow. Broad Is the manor spread below; Hamers and wine-vats overflow. Now, why is he so sad?!’ His truth for a lordly price he sold; He gave his honor for yellow gold; It’s oh for the peace he knew of oid And therefore he is sad. “Why is the poor mau sad, father,why is the poor mui) sad? Health and freedom and love has he, A vine-clad cottage beyond the lea. Where children clamber about ids knee, Yet why is he so sad?” He thought of the rich man’s wealth and He fame; looked on his humble lot with shame; Into his life back envy came. And therefore he is sad. “Why is the priest so sad, father, why is the Little priest so sad? he knows of worldly care; His place is found in the house of prayer, And honor and peace attend him there. He marks Why is the priest so sad?” meek; how the proud ones spoil the His heart is hot, but his spirit weak, And the words that he would he dare not speak, And so th'e priest is sad. “Why is the world so sad, father, why is the world so sad? Every day is a glory sent, Sunshine, beauty and music blent, Fresh from the gracious firmament, Then why is the world so sad?” Alas for the evil ever done! Alas for the good deed not begun! Alas for our blindness every one! By this the world is sad. —Robert Clarkson Tongue. © 0 Heads or Tails .] Mane, I began awkwardly, for I had never proposed before, “you must know you must have seen for a long time that -that—I love you. ’ Marie said nothing, but sat looking down at her hands,.which were twist- ing a bit of lace that she called a handkerchief. She was smiling before I began. She now looked distressed. I do not like for Marie to look dis- tressed, for she then looks a3 if she were going to cry. And a crying woman is not pretty. So for the minute I laid aside my own affair to comfort Marie. i 6 Marie,” I began, venturing with much trepidation to lay my hand softly upon both of hers, “what’s the matter?” She looked up. Her lips were quivering and a tear, balanced for the start, stood in her eye. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, brokenly. “Well?” I said, inquiringly, invit¬ ing her to continue. She hesitated nervously for several seconds. Then she went on, almost inaudibly— “You see, Mr. Transome told me last night what you told me just now. ” “Confound Trausome!” I said to myself; and to Marie—“Well, Philip Transome i^ a fine fellow, you know.” “Of course,” said Marie, acquiesc¬ ing a little too readily, I thought. “And lie’s good looking.” “Yes.” “And rich.” “Yes.” This itemizing a rival’s good points to comfort the woman you love is rather straining ou one’s* generosity. It isn’t so bad if fit# woman rewards your generosity, iyf as of course she should, But Marie didn’t. Ho I stopped. “Well, where’s the trouble, then?” I asked at length. plied, “I doy't know what to do,” she re¬ repeating her formal wail. I began to see. It is bard to decide between two lovers, I could sympathize with Marie, for I had once been in a similar predicament my¬ self. “You don’t know which of us to take?” I suggested, after a minute or two of silence, attempting to put some sympathy into my voice. “l r on like don’t you?” I me, ven- tnred with some fear in my heart. Marie nodded. I felt very com- placent. “And you like Philip Transome?” I continued. She nodded a second time. I believe I swore at Transome. THE H W C z “Don't Give TJjp tlxo SlAiip.” BUCHANAN, GA„ FRIDAY, MARCH 25. 1898. “But, you can’t decide between us. Is tlut it. ” “That's it,” acknowledged Marie, weakly. hare , tried way?” “You every blusied, “Ijliave, but and it I can’t”—here blush I did Marie not was a like, because it was for Trausome as it wts for me—“and I catk’f tell which of you I like the better.” Tie person who sits in the seat of the nndecided sits not easily. This I kuev. And any decision is better that} no decision. This also I knew. Ho out of the sympathy which I had for Marie I made up my mind to help her arrive at some decision, even though if I could help it, I thought for a Jong time, but noth¬ ing came. Then I looked up at Marie. Her eyes were fixed expectantly on me, as though she bad instinctively learned of my intention to help her anti was awaiting my plan. “Well,” said I, seizing on an idea that just then popped into my head, “since you have tried all other ways, suppose you toss up for us.” “What!” exclaimed Marie, half starting from her chair. “Toss up for us,” J. repeated calmly. chair Marie sank back in her and gaze I at me in amazement. Marie’s surprise to my suggestion angered me somewhat. Of course, I can understand that choosing a hus¬ band in such a way may seem a little queer to some girls. But they needn’t act as though it were so unusual. Besides, there are worse ways. “Toss up for you!” Marie managed to gasp out at length. “Certainly,” I replied, with some asperity. ‘ ‘Have you anything better to suggest?” A reluctant “No” came from Maria. “You’d better toss up, then,” I said, decisively, drawing a quarter from one of my pockets and offering it to her. blie -took it itiiil ai it for a long time. I began to grow impatient, for the coin was like any other of its kind, and I ooxtld see no reason why she should study it. Then I saw that ] iei . look was the look of one who is thinking. Suddenly she raised liei' head and gazed steadily at me. And then a smile that I liked strangely well slowly came into her eves, “No, you do it,” she said, return¬ i n tv the coin, ‘I don’t know how.” \y e both stood up. ’ “Heads it is Transome; tails it is I?” I suggested briefly, Marie nodded, j balanced the'* coin on my first finger. I was sure of the result, for the man never lived who is as lucky as j am. I even began to pity poor Transome. But before this feeling had much ouportunity to grow I flipped tlie quarter whirling into the air, and, as it struck the floor, placed my foot upon it. I looked at Marie. “Which shall it be?” I asked softly. “You,” she whispered. I slipped my foot aside and we both stooped. The laurel wreathed head of Liberty was up. ’ It was Transome! We both straightened up. I looked at Marie and Marie lofiked at me. Hlie was pale and I could not have been otherwise. I had risked all on the turn of a coin—and it had turned the wrong way. Without a word, for I was not wise in the ways of women, I walked out of the room, secured my hat in tlie hall, and started to open the door and go out into the street. As my hand was turning the knob something touched my arm. I turned and looked around. There stood Marie with a little smile —a little beseeching smile—on her face. “Dick”—this time the smile was still more beseeching—“can’t you see? It’s—it’s you, anyhow.” I saw, and tny hand left the door knob. And in the little excitement that followed I also may have kissed Marie. Such things have happened. —New Orleans Times-Democrat. Ever Thus. Stutterly — M-M-i-ss D-a-a-tely — G-g-g-race, aw, I-I-I w-won’t you b-ee m-m-my— Dately (shyly)—What did Miss you [jay, Stutterly—W-w-w-on’t Mr. Stutterly? be-e-e v-you fliy wu-wu-wu-wife, I-I-I-I-I s s-s-s-s- ajid. Miss Dately—Oh, George, this is so sudden!—Cincinnati Commercial Trib¬ une. , If we move our legs proportionately as fast as an ant, it is calculated we could travel nearly eight hundred miles an hour. SNAKES IN COSTA RICA. Tlie Culebra do Sani£V« tho Most Deadly of Them All. Costa Rica means the Rich Coast, and in most resjtects it is rich, parti- cularly in the snake family, the most deadly of which is the terrible Culebra de Sangre (dr blood snake). Tliis variety of reptile does not grow to a large size, and perhaps for that very reason is most to be dreaded, as it is not so easily seen. It is red, and resembles a large, swollen vein, ready to burst with blood. A short time ago I stepped on one of these snakes, and like a flash he struck at me, but as I had a pair of leather leggius no harm was done, though it was a close call. Not 80 fortunate was a poor day laborer who was bitten by the same variety of snake. The man was working for a neighbor of mine, and I did not see him until the day after he was bitten. The moment I heard about it I went over to see the poor felloxv, taking with me a remedy for snake bite, thinking it would do no harm to try it, anyway. “When we reached the men’s camp the sight that met our eyes wa„ a sickening one. The man. was bleeding from his nose, month and ears, also from his finger and toe nails. How a man could bleed as much as he had, and still live, xvas a marvel. He had been bitten in the foot; only one fang of tlie serpent had entered the flesh, The manager of the estate had given him seveial doses of curarine a medi- cine made in Colombiaand much used here in Central America for poisonous bites. \Y e also gave him the medicine which I had brought with me, which made liim vomit profusely. In a few hours time the bleeding _ stopped, and next day the poor fellow was sent m the hospital. No one ex- pected that he would live, as the bite is considered deadly; but strange to say lie did recover, and in a month s time was ut work once move. If both fangs of the snake had entered tlie foot instead on one, he would un¬ doubtedly have died. I have known a horse to die in a few hours after being bitten by one of tlie snakes. In tlie 2->ast three years two men in my district have died from snakebife, and in hunting in this country one must always keep a sharp lookout for snakes.—Forest and Stream. Agriculture and Forest Reservation. As the result of a personal inspec¬ tion of a considerable portion of the Sierra forest reserve of California, I am fully convinced that the preserva¬ tion and development of the agricul¬ tural interests of the great wheat and fruit districts west of the range de¬ pend largely upon the preservation and increase of the forest covering of the region whose drainage is tributary to the agricultural areas. The same is true of the Los Angeles and St. Ber¬ nardino areas of tlie southwestern por¬ tion of the state. Where tlie forest and brush have been removed, either by fire, cutting, or pasturage, the slopes are dry and dusty, the water flows off almost as rapidly as it falls, and carries along with it a load of sand and gravel to be deposited in the irrigation ditches and over the fields of tlie lowlands. A comparison of such a denuded area with an adjoining forested or brush-covered district shows at once that the forest covering must be pre¬ served if the water supply is to be stored by natural means for irrigation. —Appletons’Popular Hcieuce Monthly, A Banquet for the Dead. A unique banquet xvas held in Ligonier, Ind. The participants were members of the Anti-Smelling society, ■which had its inception about twenty years ago, when twelve young men bound themselves into this body, whose object is only known by its members. On the night of January .11 of each year, according to their rules, the surviving members must banquet the dead members, and plates are laid for the dead ones. .This cus¬ tom must be continued until but one member lives, when he must banquet all the dead members. A loving cup, with each member’s name inscribed thereon, goes to the member who last survives. Tlie society is the only one of its kind in America. There are about ten members still living. Tlie Decorative Craze. “Does your wife do much fancy work?” “Fancy work? She won’t even let a porous plaster come into the house without orocheNiig yellow a red scollop round it and running ribbon through the holes.”—Puck- RAPIDITY IN WRITING. Interest I Tost to Determine Number of Words Written by One Dip of Pen. Seeking for information, certain questions were asked of an expert whose profit lies, as a manufacturer, in producing one of the most popular self-feeding pens on the market. This authority said that “a dip of ink ought to write 100 words. That in an hour about 30 drops of ink were used, and that in the sixty minutes the pen trav- eled some eighth of a mile. It all de- pended ou the idiosyncrasy of the writer^.” In order to test this a number of “habitual and hardened” scribes were asketl to take one dip only of ink, and they were to work off their copy in their usual elegant or slovenly manner. \ s f ar as averages ° went,the result was disheartening. One dip* man wrote 141 wor q s w i tk the one and another J a -gh t be characters of the 144- W( r d man were very much more legi- pj e tkan those of the 14-word man. There was a lady_a graceful contrib- utoi . to journalism_and in her Italian hand she wrote eight words to the dip, „ 1H i t i.„ f„ s c pr =be nroduced couv the les8 words she wrote to the single dip. jq j s measurement of the writ- big __ one-eiglitli of a mile to the hour _ w bieh is curious, there' and to think it pos- s qq e that may be industrious scr ibes who write every day of their ]i ves more than a mile of copy! We -wheel faster, we cover a mile in a trotting sulky more speedily, or we play a finer game of billiards now than ever,because the machines,or tlie track, or the table and the balls are better constructed. With improved pens, ink, inkstand and paper do we write any more speedily than in the 3 iq ell time? The probability is that we are faster in our writing, the me- -banical impediments having been diminished; yet tho penman, with the typewriter, never kept pace with the rapidity of his thoughts.—New York rimes How Lapidaries Polisli Gems. The first thing necessary in polish¬ ing a precious stone is to slit it; this is done says the Philadelphia Times, by means of a thin sheet-iron disk, placed in a horizontal position and made to revolve by very simple ma¬ chinery. Diamond dust is applied to the edge of the disk, and sperm oil is dropped upon it from a can. If properly managed a very small quantity of diamond dust will last all day, and not much of it will be lost. In order to prevent appreciable loss,a table with a raised edge all around it is provided. The diamond dust used in polishing stones is made from lltrt, or cheap, coarse diamonds. After being slit the stone is ground on horizontal wheels of lead, brass or iron, and sometimes of wood. These wheels are called “laps,” and the workman who cuts and polishes stones is a lapidary, from the Latan word lapidarius. Lapidaries acquire great facility in sharpening and pal polishing stones, and from a’ given tern are able to produce any object required with great dexterity. Diamond, emery, agate or corundum powder is spread on the laps; gradually the powder becomes imbedded in the laps and the stones yields to them. The stone is held either with the fingers or by wax in tbe hollow at the end of a stick, and is pressed against the revolving laps. For tlie last polish the laps are covered with cloth, leather or hard brushes The facets, or flat surfaces that give brilliancy to tran¬ sparent stones, are cut by means of.,a, horizontal grinding wheel, by the side of which is placed an upright, club-like piece of wood. Into this heavy piece of wood, in different places, a rod is stuck, at one end of wlt^pli the the wheel stone is fixed with cement, revolves the stone is prP^.ied against it and a facet is cut; to make a new facet, the rod holding the stone is simply stuck in another hole in the club-like piece of wood and is thus given a new inclination or angle. Another Flying Machine. Major R. F. Moore, an English army officer, is experimenting with a flying machine, or, at least, with a model constructed mi a somewhat novel principle, He discards the broad plane and comes back to the wing. He has taken for his pattern the flying fox of India—a large species of bat—and reproduces the pectoral muscles by spiral springs strong enough to keep the wings extended, the up and down motion to be accom¬ plished by some suitable motor. Two or more pairs of wings of moderate size he finds to be preferable to one large pair. NO. 16, NOTABLE FIRES. Those in the United States Have Proved tlie l.rust Serious. The lifrgest fire of the year 181)7 was what has come to be known as the Aldersgate street fire in London, the damage from which, variously estimated at first, has been put ofii- cially at Hid,000,000. Ten-million- dollar fires are verv rare nowadays in countries equipped, however imper- fectly, with apparatus for the extin- guishment of fires, and in the United States conflagrations of such dimen- sions are practically unknown. In former times,however, such fires were not so rare, and wliat is known as “the great New York fire” of 1835 involved a pecuniary loss of 830,000,- 000, which represents, of course, a much larger amount, relatively, than would such a fire today, the pui;chas- Eig powers of money being probably greater at that time, and, moreover, the system of insurance being such that Ey tlie failure of a large number °f companies the insured were practi- cally left without any compensation for the losses which they sustained, The number of buildings burned in the great New York fire, which started l 11 " hat was then known as Merchant street, in the Wall street district, was TOO. and ^ was uot the firemen who put a stop to it, but the United Htates sailors who came over from tke navy yard and blew up a number of btiild- i n f? s - The Chicago fire of 1871 entailed a loss of §190,000,000 and covered an area of more than 2000 acres, con¬ suming 17,000 buildings. The Boston fire, which occurred little more than one year later, entailed a loss of 880,- 000,000, and destroyed 800 buildings, but these were of a much more sub¬ stantial character than those burned in Chicago. Only about 20 per cent, of the Chicago fire losses were paid, but more than 60 per cent, of the Bos¬ ton losses were met by insurance. The aggregate losses in New l'ork city from fires of all kinds occurring during the year, are now about $3,- 500,000, and in any recent year they have been so large as 87,000,000. The nearest approach to that was in 1891 when they were 86,900,000, the largest item of which was supplied by what was known as the Bleecker street fire at the corner of Greene and Bleecker streets ou St. Patrick’s day, the loss from which was $1,466,000. The largest and most serious fire of which there is authentic record in Germany was in Hamburg in 1842, the loss resulting from it being $35,- 000,000. The “great fire” of London’ took place in 1666, and consumed aljout two-thirds of tlie city, but there has never been any very accurate com¬ putation of the loss, and perhaps no su li computation was possible. There have been many serious fires in France, but no one of them large enough to take rank in respect to loss among the notable fires of which there is a record.—New York Hun. Mixed Maxims. A man is known by the trumpery he keeps. Never put a gift cigar in your mouth. The lack of money is the root of all evil. Where wisdom is bliss ’tis folly to be ignorant. saved nine. A pitch in time the Chain lip a child and away he will go. Virtue is its only reward, A bird in the hand lays no eggs. All that a man hath will lie give tc his wife. Many hands like light work. Tlie rolling stone catches the worm. ij|culation is the thief of time. JFthirsty man will catch at u straw. Straws show which way the gin goes. about in “Heaven lies us our in¬ fancy,” and this world lies about us when we are grown up. It is not good for man to give a loan. The wages of sin is debt. Every dogma must have its day.— Carolyn Wells in the Chap-Book. I.unary in London. The report of the asylums commit¬ tee of the London county council shows there has been an alarming in¬ crease in lunacy during tlie last nine years, especially in London. While the population of London is 14.59 of the inhabitants of England, London’s proportion of insane persons is 19.87. Dulwich, now a populous district of London, still has a tollgate across one of its main streets, at which tolls are collected regularly.