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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.