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SUNDAY MORNING.
COMPENSATION.
Where hnve they vanished, the mysterious
lauds,
Which oft, far-off beholden, bathed in
cold,
With genii and wonders manifold,
And great palms .towering.from burning
sands,
We fashioned with imagination's hands
From unforgotten legends, strangely old?
Where have they vanished?—Science,
swift and bold.
Has torn the fairy fabric into strands.
Yet we have stolen from the coming
years
The undiscovered realms that once was
ours,
Not in revolt; but conscious that the
hours
Tlold rich requital for old hones and
fears; —
And in these changes unperturbed we see
The patient purpose of Divinity.
—Felix N. Uerson, in “New” Lippincott.
I LEGION OF
\ HONOR CANDIDATE.
By Montjoyeox.
p (Translated tor the New York Comraer-
D tint Advertiser )
IN the little village of Nancay In
Sologne there lived a worthy naan
by name of Oliver Follchon. He
lived on n pension of 9(H) francs paid
hint by the Government. The fact of
Ills being a pensioner without any
other visible means of support had at
once won him general respect. In the
country, however modest your income
may be, provided you get it as pen
sloned-off functionary of some sort
and not from tilling the soil, you at
tract attention and command esteem.
At tlrst Follchon kept aloof froir.
people and lmd nothing to do with any
one. lie stayed in the miserable fit tic
room that lie had rented from Mine.
Cretu, who kept the village Inn ns well
fis the grocery and dry goods store,
end made no attempt to insinuate him
self into the village society. It was
extremely exclusive to outsiders. Any
stranger and, above nil, any Parisian
was looked upon ns a dangerous In
truder. Try to tell a man of Sologne
that a Parisian Is a his fellow-coun
tryman, and if lie does not call you a
liar it is only because lie does not dare
to, but you may lie sure he thinks it.
The only inbuns of escaping the tra
ditional ostracism Is to have your name
on the pension list. When lie arrived,
therefore, the newcomer was the topic
Of conversation for those who patron
ized the inn.
“Who on earth is that man?” asked
one.
"I don’t know," replied another.
“He's one of those people that no
body knows anything about. They
come here without telling anything of
their past history, and then you find
out that things have happened “
But old Mother Cretu bawled out:
“What are you talking about, Kos
theues? l)o you or don't you know
this man?”
".Vs for saying I don't know him.
why, I do know him since I’ve seen
him, but as far as anything else Is
concerned why I'm not acquainted
with him personally.”
“Thou you’re just slandering. He’s
not a good-for-nothing fellow like you,
to be stive, that has never amounted to
anything. He’s an educated man. His
name is Follchon, and lie was an of
ficial at Paris. It's so and I can prove
It, for the clerk at. the town hall, who
keeps the register, told me so, and he
said tlmt Monsieur Follchon had a
pension from tin* Government. There's
uo use in trying to make out that ev
ery one Is bad.’’
And she added as a filial argument:
“He's an honorable man, for lie pal’s
me my rent without trying to beat
tile down, and besides he wears the
tri-colored ribbon in his button hole.”
“That’s so,” said a customer. “I
saw him this morning and said ‘Good
day,’ and lie even took olt Ids hat.”
“There! You can see lie's an honest
man,” cried Mother Cretu.
Sosthenes defended himself. If Mon
sieur Follchon wore a ribbon, why, he
must be somebody, of course. But you
have to know people. Now. that he
knew who Monsieur Follchon was. he
was satisfied, and he had no reason to
have anything against ldui.
“And lie’s not proud, either,” con
tinued he who had seen the tri-colored
ribbon. “He bows back whenever uny
oke bows to him.”
"But,” asked Sosthenes, “what is
that decoration of his':”
After a moment's hesitation the shrill
voice of Mother Crotn replied: "That
is given to those who have saved the
flag.”
At the back of the room an old man
arose and took off his cap. Then all
took off their hats one after the other.
From that time Oliver Folielion had
the freedom of the village. Wherever
he went he received homage and marks
of friendship. Whenever lie went into
the inn to take a glass with his pro
prietress, busy tongues were quiet,
glasses remained untasted. counte
nances assumed a thoughtful air as if
they were in church, and no one drank
before tile rescuer of the flag had given
the signal by saying, “To your health,
gentlemen!”
The consideration with which he felt
himself surrounded at last inspired
him with esteem for himself. He no
longer walked as he did before; his
steps were measured, majestic: he car
ried his head thrown back with a lofty
air. and his former modesty would
have been astonished at the admira
tion that he now considered merely
just. He became the curiosity of
Naueay. They spoke of him as we
speak of a historic monument, and the
village was proud of owning him.
When tourists or bicyclists asked
Mother Cretu if there were any ruins
in the locality to visit or old walls, to
Investigate, “No,” she would reply,
“but we have here M. Follchon, who
Jum saved two flags.”
The sort of mystery that hovered
over the former deed of arms only
added to the glorious souvenir evoked
and consecrated by the tri-color rib
bon. Each time that some curious
person had tried to find on",:
"Never mind that,” interrupted Fo-
Ifchon. “It isn’t worth speaking of.
I only did my duty, no more and no
less.” And the good people of Sologne,
although they were disappointed, only
admired their hero the more for it.
His reputation, passing the limits of
the village, had reached the Chateau
of Eberniers, where Count Oscar of
Node lived during the hunting season.
1-Ie was a free-and-easy, hospitable
gentleman, although he boasted iliat
lie belonged to one of the best families
in France. The noble ears of the
Count bad heard rumors with regard
to Die pensioner of the State, and he
made Inquiry of ids gamekeeper for
further details about him. “He's an
old soldier,” replied the keeper, without
hesitation. “He gets a pension from
the War Ministry for having saved
his regiment in ’70!” “Thunderation!”
exclaimed the Count. “Go at once to
this valiant old captain and teli him
that I should like very much to shake
hands with him.” Follchon was given
the honor of touching the hand of the
last of the Nefles.
“Pray tell me, my good man, on
what occasion you saved ”
“Oh, Count! It isn't worth speaking
about. I only did my duty. N'o more,
no less.”
Count Oscar from a feeling of deli
cacy did not. insist. The interview
impressed him most favorably. He re
peated to each of his guests: "That: is
a truly brave man. and as modest as lie
Is brave. He did not say a word about
his heroic act. Let us show respect to
him, gentlemen, for people like him
are rapidly dying off.”
The Count stopped calling him “old
man Follchon” and addressed him very
respectfully as “M. Follchon.” lie
became his panegyrist. He told every
one the legend of the regiment
snatched from disaster. At Paris all
his friends knew the story of the Thir
ty-eighth Dragoons miraculously res
cued from butchery; and to induce
them to coihe to Eberniers he promised
them a sight of the hero. Gradually
anew page of history was inscribed
on the memory of a whole hand of
country squires, who retailed it proud
ly to their tenants and their men. The
whole country became enthusiastic
over the deeds of a certain Oliver.
And the day arrived that the legend
on its way back from the south was
implanted in the counties of Vierzon,
Romorantin, Sancerre, Saint Armand
and Bourges—a definite history iq
which Folielmn, alone, had delivered a
corps of the Ariny and had almost cap
tured the Emperor of Germany.
Before long it was a unanimous cry
In the country, which was at that time
in the midst of its elections: "How
can a Republic that respects itself
think that it has done its duty to the
most devoted of its children when it
has given him only a medal from the
Humane Society?”
There was a general cry of indigna
tion. Each one of the candidates took
np the wrongs of Follchon as one of
tile planks of his platform. Each one
swore to use his influence to have
him decorated with the Legion of
Honor. The Radical and the Conserva
tive each pledged his word solemnly.
The Radical, however, bethought
himself to look up the title of the old
soldier who had become a bugbear ta
him. He bad no trouble in finding out
wluit he wanted to, and one fine morn
ing a placard was pasted up iu the
forty-three districts of Ids riding.
“The individual named Follchon
(Oliver), about whom so much fuss is
being made. Is a former policeman of
Paris, retired and pensioned after thir
ty yarn's of loyal service. His regular
beat was the quay of Bercy. The 7th
of July, IS7C>, at - o'clock in the after
noon he saw a drunken man who was
lying on his stomach with his lips to
the water and was trying to drink.*
He drew him away by his feet, took
him to the station and left him there
till he was sober again. On this oe-
easiou a report having neon sent in
(lie medal of the Humane Society was
awarded to the said Folielion (Oliver)
and lie now wears its ribbon.”
The people of X'ancay could not be
lieve their eyes.
“Is it true . . . what's written on
that paper?" asked Mother Cretu with
a trembling voice.
"Why. yes,” replied the thunderbolt
that had almost taken the Emperor of
Germany by the scruff of the neck.
And always modest, lie added:
"I never told you anything to the
contrary, did I?”
Tlic Oak and the Sqnath.
When the late President Harrows, of
Olicrlin College, was asked by a
student if lie could not take less than
tile regulai four years' course, I>r.
Barrows looked the applicant over
thoughtfully and replied: "Why. cer
tainly, my lad. A short course, if you
like, but my advice to you is to take
the longest course possible. The
leugtli of time you wish to devote to
study rests with you entirely, and
should depend on what you intend to
become, .lust remember that when
God wants to make an oak lie takes a
hundred years, lint when He wants a
squash He takes six mouths."—Chicago
Inter-Ocean.
As to 1 nil tie net*.
The strongest men are often the most
easily influenced, because they are in
fluenced unconsciously. The influence
is usually of a negative kind, ami com
ing from a weak source is unexpected.
THE -DAILY NEWS.
Discontentment and
Worry Mean Failure
By Margaret Stowe.
janßaon ANT there are in this world to-day who feel they might suc
ceed in life if only they had the proper surroundings—the
M right atmosphere and opportunities. *
They are discontented with their lot, and grow more and
more so through continual worry and fretting. It is to them
that 1 would speak to-day.
I jETS? Have you ever stopped to think that a mind that is tilled
133S with hindrances—for that is what, such thoughts should le
• ,-a <>aiied—never will succeed? You are allowing those weaken
ing thoughts to urevnil and take up the room that should lie given only to
thoughts that create energy and vigor of mind, that are so essential to
success.
Discontentment is usually the result of disappointed hopes. We start,
out in life expecting to do great things, or to at least have the chance to do
them; if we fail, we blame our environment or the lack of opportunity,
when' in reality we are looking too far off and for too large things and lose
sight, of that which is dose at baud.
We ourselves are to blame and not the lack of opportunities. If we
would take what we have at the present moment and make the very best
ot it. we might attain to much more than we think.--New York American.
The Truest Charity.
By Charles Frederick Weller.
pa— iia MPDOYMENT, in tlic broad sense of useful activity. Is the
V fundamental wonl in charitable work of any kind. Km
i I ployment, both In this large meaning and in the smaller
Ei sense of wage earning, is the lirst and last tiling to be
thought of in the treatment of needy individuals and farn-
I Hies who are not to he accommodated in charitable insti
j unions. Two cautious arc to be observed in our dealings
L ft -with men and women who apply to us in our various char
liable societies or at our private residences. The first is
that we should be very slow and careful about substituting relief for em
ployment. The second is that it should be our unceasing endeavor to sub
stitute employment for relief.
The first suggestion refers to the fact that when an earnest man ap
proaches a charitable society or Individual for the first time and asks ; s
slstance in finding employment, it is a natural impulse to say, if v\oik i.ui
uot readily be suggested, "Tills Is obviously no pauper, but a woitliy dis
tressed man: i will lighten his anxieties and prove my good will by giving
him a dollar.”
lteeeutly i sent an earnest, superior but destitute applicant for work to
a gentleman through whom I hoped lie might secure employment. Instead
he was offered $2 in the most tactful, kindly manner. Mis urgent neces
sities compelled him to yield to the 'temptation, but he came back to my
office so pained and bruised in spirit that I knew this sore wound must
heal In a manner which would leave Idm just a little less independent an.-
self-respecting than he had been before.
I suggest, therefore, that when people apply to us for assistance in
finding employment, and both the applicant and we ourselves are delayed
la finding the work desired, we should permit the extreme to lie reached be
fore venturing into the dangerous realm of giving material alms to able
bodied, normal people. Present suffering to an extent which is not 1 --
i-esslve and deteriorating may be a great deal better than future degrada-
What Determines Character.
By Elizabeth EUicott Poe.
§IIIUDHOOI> is the springtime of life. The Infant days arc
voted to the development of the primitive.. The strong
foundation for the after structure must he laid in the first
days. The mind is plastic and does not know or exercise
the power of resistance.
The generation that comes before is truly responsible
for tlie generation that comes after; responsible for the
bad as well as the good. The little minds are alert for
the knowledge of how to face the ways of life. The eyes
see much that we dp not dream or. Indeed, they look be
j oiul to-day and see all the past.
Unquestionably it is true that the influences of childhood will make or
i.inr tile man. • Tiie child is father to the man," said Wordsworth, and he
lint expressed a fundamental truth in the formation of the human char
acter.
When will society learn the virtue of the ounce of prevention? It is
quick enough to provide for the result of its failure. Hospitals spring tij
over night while prisons come into noxious being with the birth of each
generation. Hut recreation piers, kindergartens, schools and the great
savior of childhood—church guilds and ministrations—are painfully inade
quate to tin' demand.
Many a matt who is lost beneath the flood of life feels that he could
have resisted the current if he had known the right and been inculcated
with it in tiie days of his innocent childhood.
The childish eyes, awaking from the sleep of babyhood, eager to plunge
into life and glad with the full joy of innocence, are as beacon lights that
flush over the ways before them, seeing alike the light and dark places.
The visions remain with them, the dark mingling with their dreams of the
beautiful. They are taught by the actions of "grown ups," and soon the
white soul is smeared, the young mind has lost it< pristine purity, and the
little one Inis received its Inevitable heritage—the practice of wrong.
The child nature is Hie garden of the world, ln.it may be sown an
arehy, rebellion and discord, resulting In the sorrows of nations, or it may
bloom beautiful and glorious with the buds of peace, advancement and
civilization.
Training Our Army Officers
By Lieutenant H. <J. Koehler, U. S. A.
N the training of the West Point cadet, the utmost import
a (, H anee is attached to proper breathing, without which jhere
8 jjf _ B van he no physical excellence. At the heginuing. and end
8 BJ °f each drill tlte men arc required to devote several miu
-0 ntes to inflating and debating their lungs. They breathe
gtBP Sm '*& slowly and deeply, inspirations being through the nostrils
U Or Jj and expiration either by nose or mouth. Holding the
breath until it can be no longer held is absolutely harm
ful. Inhalation may be accompanied by any part of on
arm or shoulder exorcise that will elevate and distend the thorax, such as
raising the arms laterally, while that part of an exercise which tends to
contract the walls of the chest should be accompanied by exhalation, as
lowering the arms laterally from the shoulders or from overhead. When
exercise is followed by labored breathing, it is a certain sign that the work
Ims been excessive, and such an extreme is a frequent cause of injury to
tiie heart or lungs. Palpitation or distressful breathing calls for immediate
and absolute rest, which is best obtained by lying flat on the back, with
arms and legs outstretched.
Kxercislng is never permitted immediately before or after a meal, lift
gestiou being considered much more important. During the exercises water,
not too cold, may be taken in small sips, but merely rinsing the mouth is
recommended. After exercise, the body must return to its normal condi
tion before eating is allowed. Cadets, during exercise, wear soft canvas
shoes,uniform trousers and gray flannel shirts, wool next to the skin being
considered indispensable. Bathing is ordered in connection with exercise,
for no man who merely cleanses the surface of his skin can be expected to
possess a clean cuticle. A bath after a good "sweat" accomplishes the flush
ing or the millions of perspiration ducts ia the body. Though a cold bath
is now generally preferred for healthy men. it is impossible to lay dpwn an
Inflexible rule. All depends upon the condition of the individual, and he
alone can be the judge. Any bath that leaves the bather in a state of men
tal depression and physical lassitude must be avoided, as only that bath
which leaves one better in mind and body is beneficial. For cleansing tin
body a warm bath, with plenty of soap, is advised. For stimulation, a
cold plunge bath of short duration, taken before the body cools, is best.
This latter hath must be followed by a brisk rubbing with a coarse towel.
Where neither is possible, a sponge bath with tepid water, followed by
brisk rubbing, is the one to use. In this connection, bathing the stomach,
by drinking water freely, both at rising and retiring, is strong'y recom
mended to ail.—Sucees*
How to Make a Frog Kite.
It is a pleasant sensation to feel
the steady pull of a good kite upon
the string,and watch its graceful move
ments as it sways from side to side,
ever mounting higher and higher, as
if impatient to free itsell and soar
away among the clouds. The pleasure
is, however, greatly enhanced by the
knowledge that the object flying so like
a bird through the air is a kite of
your own manufacture. An odd look
ing one is the frog kite.
It is not worth while to build one less
than two feet high. Let us suppose
that tne particular frog we are about
CAPTAIN HALE PUZZLE.
i
i
Find Cunningham and Kuowlton. who were conceratal in the execution of
Captain Hale.
to make is to be just that height; in
this ease the leg sticks must each be
two feet long, anil as you will want
them to bend at the knees, these points
should be made considerably thinner
than the other parts of the sticks. The
spine must be about one foot seven
inches long, or a little over three-quar
ters of the length of the leg sticks.
Place the two latter one above the
other, lay the spiue on tup of them,
and see that the tops of all three are
flush, or perfectly even. Then at a
point eight inches from the top drive
a pin through ail three sticks, carefully
clamping it upon the other side, where
the point protrudes, l'or the body
take a piece of thin rattan two feet
five inches in length, bend it into the
form of a circle, allowing the ends to
overlap an inch or two that they may
NOVEMBER 9
be firmly bound together w§h thread
by winding it around the joint. The
circle will be about eight inches in
die meter. Take the three sticks which
you previously pinned together and
fay them on the floor, spreading them
apart in the form of an irregular star,
in such a manner that the top of the
spine will be just half way between
the tops of the leg sticks and about
five inches from each; when you have
proceeded thus far place the' rattan
circle over the other sticks. The inter
sect Silt of the sticks should be the cen
tre of the circle. AY Ith pins and thread
fasten
tion. Tim lower limbs will be .spread
wide apart; they must lie carefully
drawn closer together and held in posi
tion by a string tied dear the termina
tion of each leg stick. Gross sticks for
the hands and feet may now be added,
anu the frame for the head made of
rattan and tied firmly to the cir Cb.
which forms the body. Then Die
strings are to be put on as shown by
the dotted lines iu Figure 1.
This kite should be covered with
green tissue paper. A few clever
marks of the paint brush will give it
the appearsnoeof Figures. The breast
and tail bauds should be arranged In
the same manner as it is upon-Die com
mon hexagonal or coffin shaped kite,
with which -ill American hoys are fa
miliar: but for fear some reader may
not quite understand. I will try to
tell exactly how to do it. First, punch
small holes through the paper, one
upon each side of the leg sticks just
| above the bottom or feet, and outf upon
j each side of the arm stick at the slioitl
! tiers. Run one .end of the breastband
' through the holes ot the bottom of the
! left limb and tie it fast to the leg stick:
j tie the other end ot the right shoulder.
: fake another string of Die same length
| as the first ami fasten one end in the
same manner at the bottom of the right
leg, pass the string up, crossing till
first band, and tie the end at the lef
; UoaUler. Attach your kite string to
the brcastbaml where Hie two strings
intersect in such a manner that you
can slide the kite string up or down
until it is properly adjusted. For the
tnilband, tie a sting to the leg stick
at the bottom of the breast band, and
let it hang slack from one leg to the
other. Attach the tail to the centre of
this string.—New York Tribune.
To Crawl Through a CarC
! Cut a playing card lengthwise in the
middle, as shown in figure 1 of the il
lustration. Bend it along the cut and
make incisions as in figure 2. After
unfolding the card you will have ob
tained a long band, wide enough to al
low a person to crawl through.
Character Building.
Some people who have real intelli
gence are ashamed to acknowledge it;
instead, they aecept the most foolish
doctrines, in order to be known as love
ly characters.—Atchison Globe.
Always Be Cheerful.
Never whine, grumble, or utter non
sensical complaints about trifles—be a
man and carry-your share of the white
man's burden with good grace.
Diplomats.
Some diplomats are horn, while oth
ers get married and acquire it grad
ually.—Puck.