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SUNQIY MORNING.
THE WAY OF GRIEF.
Alone, be walked the Way of Grief,
With ashes on bis bead;
O’er faded bloom and withered leaf,
With halting, heavy tread.
Nor looked be out, nor looked be in,
Bat ever on would fare,
And thought for ages he had been
Alone and friendless there.
Full bitterly he trod the path,
Nor stayed for rut or ston*.
He said: “Than me none other hath
Gone on this way alone.
None other hath this road essayed—
This road of hauotlng fears—
But that someone a bairn bath made
To stanch his burning tears.”
Alone he walked the Grievous Way,
Where there was never light;
No sun to glad him In the day,
Nor any star by night.
His heart within his bosom swelled
And In his angered mood
He raised his ayes. Lo, he beheld
A countless multitude!
—W. V. NesbJt, in Chicago Tribune.
THE FALLACY OF
A FACE.
Cranfield holds that the beginning
of his courtship was unique; hut that
may be Cran field's one-sided view. It
was the night of the Hunt ball and
be leaned against a pillar in the danc
ing room. At no time a dancing man,
on this occasion he was excessively
bored; he was out of sorts; the band
was too loud; the crush was too great;
He thought regretfully of Ills library
fire, and shlverlngly of the long drive
home.
At the end of the room he saw heads
turned toward the door. Following
a very human impulse, he turned his
own in the same direction. He was in
quisitive, but the desire to know is
quite as Infectious as a disease.
In a brief space the crowd about the
entrance parted, and his curiosity
melted before another feeling—a feel
ing as rapid if infinitely more strong.
He closed his eyes; then he readjust
ed his glass.
It was Creighton—Tommy Creighton
and his wife. He watched them move
slowly up the room, and as they moved
he felt, rather than heard, the admi
ration that hummed in (heir wake.
He took a long look; then ho leaned
back against the pillar, Beeking to re
alize exactly where he stood.
"If you ever fall In love, Cranfiold,"
someone had once said, "you'll be the
worst case on record, bar none."
The words occurred to him inoppor
tunely. Asa man he was not excep
tional; but there were things at which
he drew the line. Making love to a
married woman, curiously enough,
came first on the proscribed list. The
feelings that surged through him as he
let the pillar support him were largely
made up of fear. The thing was pre
posterous—grotesque. Ho shied vig
orously at the shadow of it. Hut not
for an Instant did his eyes stray from
*irs. Creighton's face.
'•<* had seen her before —once be-
— — That point alone wrought self
. -rfust. He had called one day with
Btsherthorpe, and she had given them
tea. His verdict had been, "Extremely
pretty, sarcastic, and a trifle cold."
He screwed In his eyeglass and leaned
still further back. He saw Creighton
Introduce four men. Then his control
gave way. He forced an opening In
the crowd; but when ho reached her
side and spoke, his voice had a tone
that, even to him, was now.
"May 1 have the pleasure?"
She looked up with just tho faintest
surprise. Tltpn her eyes fell on tho
facings of his red coat, and she smiled
—the friendliest and most perfect
smile he had ever seen.
"I ” She hesitated and glanced
round for Creighton; but Creighton
had disappeared. She smiled again,
and held out her card. "I can give you
number five," she said. "Will you put
down your name?"
He took tho card and scrawled his
Initials. Then he looked at the obvi
ously waiting men.
"Number six Is also free," lie said.
"May 1 ?"
He would not have admitted the
feelings with whicn he wailed for her
reply. He saw the negative trembling
on her lips, and quailed. Then to his
absurdly great relief, tne saving smile
came again, and sne blushed.
“You may.”
The words seemed the frankest and
most delightful ne had ever heard.
There Is nothing in the world so vi
vifying as hope. In a single moment
the shifting crowd had become the
universe, and he had found its core.
Like a wonderfully deferred dream the
fifth dance came around, and waiting
was at an end.
"Mine, I think," he said.
She folded her fan, smiled at the
man beside her, then laid her hand on
Crantleld's arm.
"Shall wo dance?” he asked.
"Oh! please."
He hid his disappointment, though
his ideas were curiously upset. Sho
seemed so enthusiastic—so buoyantly
young.
The music had quickened to its end,
when he swung her out of the crush.
His brain was still swaying to the beat
of the tune as he drew her down a
passage to a distant sent. In ten min
utes of companionship she had grown
straight into his life.
The carpet of the passage was very
soft; the light of the hanging lamp
was very dim. It seemed to him that he
had only existed until now. He ar
ranged the cushions on tho divan, and
she sat down.
"Do you believe in infatuation?" he
asked suddenly.
' He felt afraid of what he was going
to say. He felt that his principles, his
honor—he used the word boldly—all
staple things were drifting from him
like a mirage.
"Have you ever heard of a man go
ing off his head in a single night?" he
asked afresh.
She looked up at hint; and behind
the uneasiness in her eyes he felt that
she was measuring him inch by inch.
"I'd like to ask you something.” she
said, "if you don't mind."
She glanced down, and then once
more glanced up.
"I want you to tell me your name."
He ntet her gaze in blank surprise.
It was hard to oc rebuked; it was in
human to be forgotten—wiped off her
m*mo?v in six weeks.
“You’ve been puzzling me the whole
night," she said. “Of course, I know
that you're some friend of Tommy's;
but what friend—and where I met you
looked at him once more. “Please do
enlighten me. I’m just dying to
know.”
"I suppose you're laughing at me,”
he said. "I suppose you think because
you're so —so horribly pretty you can
turn a man's head just for sport. Hut
It isn't sport; at least not to me. I’m
handicapped every way.”
The music of the next dance began.
It appeared distant and much subdued.
His balance and his nerve seemed lost.
He rose slowly.
“At least,” he said, grasping at a
thread, "at least say that you remem
ber Riving me tea —Bishcrthorpe and
me, one* day soon after you’d come
back from your honeymoon. Don’t
make me feel quite an outsider.’’
She watched him curiously. Then
an expression—just the dawning of a
smile—stole Into her eyes. She clasped
her hands, and the smile crept very
slowly from her eyes to her mouth.
"How delicious!” she said. "How
perfectly delicious! But how absurd!”
Cranfield was fidgeting with his pro
gram. At her words he suddenly tore
It in two.
She glanced at him, and there was
a glow like firelight in her eyes.
”1 don't think,” she said, deliberate
ly, "that I ever gave you any tea. I’m
not Daisy, you know; I'm Daisy’s sis
ter. We are horribly alike, and I al
ways keep forgetting. Please forgive
me—lt’s been all my fault.”
The swish of the dancers and the
throb of the waltz came to Cranfield;
they were the accompaniment to his
bungling thoughts.
He passed his hands across his eyes,
brushing away many things. Then,
for the first time that night, he smiled.
’’Might I ?’’ He halted. “Might
I TANARUS”
Their eyes met.
He suddenly bent near; so near that
his breath touched her cheek.
"Might I ? Just to level things.”
Her head drooped, and the color
rushed Into her face. Her answer,
when It came, was a whisper—one of
those Inaudible mysteries that, are
never really placed. To this day Cran
field Insists that It was ”ye3,” but Mrs.
Cranfield in quite persistently deter
mlnted that It was "no.” —Free Dance.
VALUABLE METAL.
Iron Is Worth Much More Than Gold
and Silver Combined.
What aro our precious metals?
“Gold and stiver," you answer. That
depends. If by preclonsness is meant
the value of the product In dollars
and cents —our golden rule of meas
urement—then gold and silver are not
the precious metals, according to the
recently issued report of the United
States geographical survey, which
gives us the money value of the prod
ucts wrested from the earth's dark
laboratory in 1901. The gold, the
precious yellow metal, poured from na
ture’s crucible In this land last year
Is valued at $78,000,000, and If to this
wo add the metal value of the silver
wo have $111,000,000. But what is
that compared with the pig Iron prod
uct of tho snmo timo, which Is valued
at $241,000,000? The Iron produced
Is more precious than the gold and sil
ver combined by $130,000,000.
Modest copper, Indlan-complexloned
copper, can put Ihe oriental lined gold
to tho blush, for last year It enriched
us tn tho sum of $87,000,000, $9,000,000
more than the value of the yellow niet
nl. Even the base lead that was
mined Is one-third the value of the
gold. When we go a little deeper and
measure the structural purposes gold
and sliver nro again distanced, for the
building stone, clay and cements that
were launched by us into the channels
of commerce In 1901, aro valued at
$182,000,000. The gold and silver pro
duced in the same time was $17,000,-
000 short of being enough to purchase
this output. When we go a little deep
er and measure tho value of coal, pe
troleum and natural gas that we pur
loined from beneath the fruitful breast
of mother earth we find its value four
times that of all the gold and sliver
taken from the same treasure house
In the same time. Gold and stiver
may dazzle us with their brightness
and charm and with their nimbieness,
but in preclonsness measured by worth
of production and real usefulness they
sing by their own gravity to the bot
tom of the list of minerals. —St. touts
Republic.
Killing the Kangaroo.
Some curious figures come from the
state of Queensland, dealing with the
gradual extinction of the harmful, un
necessary kangaroo. In the early
days of settlement In the col
ony the squatters found that the
resident marsupials had an irritating
way of eating up the grass and indigen
ous herbage required for stock. So the
government came to thetr assistance,
and passed a measure catted tho mar
supial destruction act. under which re
wards were offered for these animals’
scalps. This act has been renewed from
time to time, and is tn force at tho
present day. For the year ended June,
1901, scalps were brought in to the
number of 1,295,748. These scalps in
cluded those of kangaroos, wallabies
and other marsupials, and of dingoes
—sons of the primitive "Yellow-Dog
Dingo," who was responsible (accord
ing to Mr. Kipling) for the develop
ment of the kangaroo’s bind legs. The
total sum paid for these scalps was
over SIOO,OOO. In the past five and a
i half years no less than 7.316,843 scalps
: were paid for in this one state.
Pity for Western Nations.
The Chinese enjoy the greatest lib
erty. The laws of the western nations
are too numerous and too severe. In
stances of their bondage may be giv
en. All the children in the country
are bound to attend school at a cer
tain age. When an author wants to
print a took he has to ask for copy,
right. Before a man can establish a
newspaper he must apply for a certi
ficate from the government sanctioning
! him to do so. There are fixed regula
; tton's governing all companies and
i firms. All marriges must be report
ed to a certain department tor regi"
nation. Thus there is no liberty lx*,
j tween husband and wife.
**************•
I FARM ®
m MATTERS. !
♦
A lifiiMly Feet! Jtox.
A self-cleaning feed box which can
be made to turn over very easily and
empty Itself when there is auy snow
or dirt Inside, is made in tile following
way: Make a box ten feet long, twelve
Inches wide and six or eight inches
deep. Bore half-inch hole in the centre
of both ends of the box and fasten it
with half-inch holts to two supports
made In the shape of the legs of a saw
Jack, using two by four iiich stuff for
legs and of any height required. By
the use of a couple of small books It
can be kept in the proper place when
feed is in ID
Improvement by Selection.
Plants of any variety are not all
worthy of being used for breeding more
than are all Individuals In breeds of
animals. Hortlculturalists are learn
ing that It pays to select individual su
perior plants for propagation. Straw
berry growers are marking the best
Individual plants In n bed and using
such for producing new plants. In this
way it is possible in a few years to
have a whole field of plants, all de
scended from a single specimen, anil
that a selected one. In (lie common
practice It Is not unusual to carry
along quite a percentage of inferior
stock from year to year tlmt like in
ferior cows are kept at a loss. Board
ers among plants, arc ns unprofitable as
hoarders in the dairy herd.—A. W.
Checver, in New York Tribune Farmer.
I>eop vs. Blmllow Cultivation*
The matter of deep or shallow culti
vation is one that is frequently dis
cussed, yet the question is unsettled, so
far ns the cultivation of some crops is
concerned. One class of farmers be
lieve Hint corn should receive deep
cultivation, hut they fear the Injury
resulting from the cutting of the roots
of the corn plants. It is not believed,
however, that much, If any, damage
will lie done to corn by deep cultivation
during the first stages of growth, as
tlie x’oots are then tending downward
rather than through the surface soil,
the feeding roots extending later. In
experiments made it was found that
when the soil was stirred to the depth
of half an inch the loss of water from
one acre was five and three-quarter
tons, and when stirred to the depth of
three-fourths of an inch the loss tVas
about four and a half tons of water
per acre. Soil that was not cultivated
at nil lost about six and a quarter tons
of water. The experiments show that
deep tillage retains more water in the
soil than when the cultivation Is shal
low. Deep plowing, however, with the
ground rolled, and flic soil cultivated so
as to keep the top earth fine and loose,
is deemed bettor for nil crops that feed
close to the surface of the ground, like
coin, though all crops feed near the
surface to a certain extent.—Philadel
phia accord.
Preventing Calf Cholera,
XVhnt xve mean by calf cholera Is
Mint malignant form of disease which
usually appears from one to three
days after the ldrth of the calf, and
differs from scours, which is usually
due to digestive derangement nnd
nothing more. It is always more prev
alent In the spring, most in March, just
about tiio time the cows are shedding
their hair and are debilitated thereby.
The disease is born with the calf. Its
cause must therefore he looked for In
llie cow, or In her treatment previous
to tho birib of tho calf.
This last I take to be the most im
portant element In tlie solution of Hie
problem. If the eow is all right, the
calf is almost sure to bo in the same
condition. In some eases I have no-
Meed that when the calf does recover,
and they seldom do, if always begins
to lick the whitewash of the stable
and scrape off the outer ixirtions of
boards ns soon ns it is able to do so.
This led me to believe I hat one cause
was Hie lack of these elements In the
animal’s system. Last spring t had
three cases In my herd in March. After
lingering tU‘outid a short time I killed
them all.
I (lion took another cow. due to calve
In about thirty days, nnd fed her a
small handful of slaked lime and wood
ashes twice a day in bran. In due
time she calved and the calf came
through all right. This cow was In
(lie stable with the others, and calved
in the same loose stall where the
others did, without any special disin
fection of the place or any attempt to
guard against contagion.
After that the other cows in the herd
Wore turned to pasture, There Was
ho more cholera in the calves, and
lias been hone Up to date. From this
I infer that in many cases it is due to
the lack of mineral matter in the food
of tile row, and I would suggest to
those who have trouble in their herds
to try feeding a mixture of lime, wood
ashes and bone dust to their cows pre
vious to calving and note the results.
Treat the disease on (lie same basis
Sheep For the Form,
If one is in the raising of sheep ex
clusively, one can afford to go Into the
question of fancy breeds suited to the
market to which he Is catering, but the
average farmer who raises sheep sim
ply as one more crop from which lie
hopes to derive nil income, should se
lect the breed front those most common
In his section. The general purpose
ewe. If this term may be applied io
sheep, is the one with some Merino
blood in order to obtain the heavy, line
fleece. It has been observed that tlie
animal with the close, dense fleece Is
the vigorous, hardy animal. The ram
should be of a good cross or pure bred,
if desired, but care should be taken
that lie is of a breed suited to thrive
in Hie section where he is to remain
and under the conditions with which
lie will be surrounded. In selecting
sheep for the farm it is generally wise
to look after the merits of each indi
vidual regardless of the breed to which
she belongs, for there are good breeds
with poor members of the family just
as there are good members in breeds
that are not so highly rated. In most
sections where sheep may be raised to
advantage there Is room for many
more than are now raised. If farmers
would go Into this Industry, carefully
Increasing their holdings as they gain
experience, they could make sheep
raising profitable.—lndianapolis News.
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS
as that on which we treat hog cholera.
—D. I*. Forney, in Orange Judd
Farmer.
Tlie Clock Plant.
One of the curious and rare products
of nature is the clock plant. Purdue
University, writes a Lafayette (Ind.)
correspondent of the Indianapolis
News, had one of the few specimens
to be found in the world. It was ob
tained from the Government gardens
at Washington two years ago by
Pierre Van Landlngham, expert gar
dener at Purdue, and the authorities at
Washington have asked that It be re
turned, ns all the specimens in the
Washington gardens have been lost.
It is said that the plant at Purdue
was the only one In the United States.
Five small plants have been grown
from the one nt Purdue, and they are
carefully guarded.
The clock plant Is a native of Borneo
and it Is as rare there ns in other parts
of the world. The clock plant has a
number of peculiar habits, from which
It takes Its name. It Is ns sensitive to
the touch of human fingers as the com
mon sensitive plant.
The clock plant keeps a "second
hand” running until about 4 p. m.,
when It takes a rest for two hours,
such as the "hour hand” and the rest
of the plant have all night. The plant
has leaves of two sizes.—The smaller
leaves are near the st™, extending
stiffly toward (he lop at a/Jarp angle.
These leaves net us "(pP'iiid hands”
and the larger leaves Wo the "hour
hands." Starting from a depressed po
sition, In which the leaves hang down
w
THE CLOCK PLANT.
close to the stem, they gradually raise
themselves until they turn toward the
top of the plant at an angle. Then
they gradually relax to the original
position. This movement occupies
about one minute for the small leaves
and about an hour for the larger ones.
Under proper conditions this move
ment continues throughout the day.
Forestry For Practical Farmers.
After a wood lot is cut off, It is then
left to make of itself whatever it can.
The result is oftentimes disastrous,
usually poor and sometimes fair, but
whether cut either by the sawmill or
simply culled out by the owner as he
needs wood supplies, it is very rarely
that the lot comes anywhere near do
ing what it might do with care and
protection. There are a few steps
which might be taken to improve this
wood lot.
Try to give the property better pro
tection from fire. Avoid as much ns
possible nil fire-tempters, such as piles
of brush left from lumbering. With
proper onre these can be safely burned
at certain seasons so as not to furnish
food for a larger uncontrollable confla
gration. And if the property adjoius
other Wood lands, keep tt harrow strip
next those properties cut blear Of all
woody growth. Such fire lanes may be
used to cut up your property into sec
tions if your tract is large, so as to
prevent accidental fires from gaining
much headway. The fire lanes should
be burned over under care once a year,
so as to prevent the accumulation of In
flammable material. In many sections
they can be easily kept open by plow
ing.
I’raetibb thinning out of feven th@
valuable trees when they are crowd
ing one another Injuriously. Experience
can only determine how much this is
to be done under any given set of
conditions. Asa general principle,
go slow. Remember that a tree lays
on wood largely in proportion to the
amount of light it receives. Cutting
out one tree will thus give another
more chance. But, if the openings are
made too large, tlie sun gets at the soil
unduly and causes a loss in that most
important of factors in the growth of
a forest—molstflre. If the openings
are too large it also means that the for
est Is more the Uprooting
power of the wind, / | also tbat light
is being lost which in<sHit be utilized in
tlie production of wood. The tree
should be kept livvjfc crowded when
young, to Induce a good height growth
instead of lateral development and to
free tlie lower part of the trunks from
branches, each of which means a knot
in tiie lumber. An excellent sign that
you have thinned too severely is the
appearance of such grasses and weeds
as need considerable light for their de
velopment.
Harvest carefully. When a tree Is
ripe for the purpose tor which yott
want it, cut it. But in doing so have
some regard to the younger trees
around It which are to take its place,
nnd save tnem as much as possible.
More or less of the young growth is
bound to .be killed or Injured, but much
can be done by skill and injury to re
duce this Injury to a minimum.
Keep a wind mantle around the piece,
that is, a narrow strip where the trees
are left standing very close together.
This is of great benefit in preventing
the drying out of the soil by the wind.
The moisture conditions of the soil
are more important to forest growth
than its chemical make-up.
Vse some care in cutting the trees
from the stumps of which vigorous
sprouts arc iwanted, make a smooth
cut, so that the bark is not torn from
the wood nnd the formation of the
sprout thus injured. Slant the cut
downward so that water will not col
lect so rapidly and decay be thus
furthered. Cut low. so that the sprout
may semi down roots of its owu into
the soil. If there are certain trees
from which you do not wish sprouts,
cut the trees in summer, when the
stumps will be more apt to dry.—" Wa
lter Mulford, in American Agricul-
WHY MAXIMILIAN FAILED.
His Government Not of the Sort Re
quired by Mexico.
When the tourist ascends the hill of
Chapultepec to the great caslkx and at
last stands on the board terrace with it.
incomparable view out over the Im
mense valley In which the City of Mex
ico is hut a grayish-brown patch, he
will think of the man who has such
power and prestige between the Half
and the Pacific, from the Rio Grande
to the mahogany forests of the dis
tant south. There is no king or em
peror in Europe who rules by right
stronger than this nation-builder, this
modernizer and pacificator.
The temper of Maximilian was not
equal to the tremendous task pet for
him here in Mexico. "Emperor." he was
called, but his empire was day after
day shifting its borders. From thia
Castle of Chapultepec he could look
right, into the great sierra where lurked
the fierce republican guerrillas who
swooped down Into the suburbs of the
capital and even once seized his Em
press from her coach while she was
on her way to open a school in Taeu
hapa. That she was set down in safety
was due to the fact that the French
dragoons, riding far behind, hurried
up, and the guerrilla leader had to
make his escape. The Maximilian em
pire stood only where French rifles
could shoot.
Men in Sonora, in fair Sinaloa, in
Guanajuato and Vera Cruz, in freedom
loving Oaxaca and in remote Tabasco
did not feel in their hearts that Maxi
milian rightfully ruled. His name did
not move men’s imagination. He was
ever "the foreigner,” the intruder. He
sat here in his stately castle, fit resi
dence for a great king, surrounded by
his court, and devised orders and deco
rations, planned schools and colleges,
gave much thought to uniforms and
matters of etiquette, to all those things
that fill the life of a constitutional
monarch in Europe.
A kindly, benevolent, chivalrlc man
was Maximilian, but the realm he had
come across the seas to rule over
swarmed with hardy republican pa
triots, and every mountain was a safe
retreat for them when hard pressed.
So, with French bayonets, Maximilian
held the cities and larger towns, and
the republican, Juarez, rightful ruler,
driven hither and thither, almost a
phantom government his, stood for all
that Mexico had dreamed of when
she threw off the yoke of Spain.—Chi
cago Inter-Ocean.
New Stories of Wellington.
It is never too late to learn new
things about a great man. The Duke
of Wellington has been aead many
years, yet the recently published “Au
tobiography of Alexander Grant,”
friend and physician of the Marquis of
Dalhousie, once governor-general of
India, contains a number of new sto
ries of the simplicity, characteristic
plain-speaking and indomitable mental
courage of the hero of Waterloo.
When the news of the -loody Battle
of Ferozeshah reached England there
was great consternation in the minis
try. At beat it was a drawn battle, and
Sir Robert Peel was much depressed.
“You must lose officers and men if
you have great battles," said the Duke
of Wellington. “At Assaye I lost a
third of my force.”
When the council continued to con
sider the battle a crushing reverse,
Wellington lighted up suddenly. "Make
it a victory!” said hot.- “Fire a salute
and ring the bells.” And so it was or
dered and done; anu the immediate
heartening of the people proved the
soundness of the old soldier's policy.
When Lord Dalhousie was aoout to
go to India he begged the duke to rec
ommend for the personal staff any
young officer in whom ae felt an in
terest He stoutly refused. “I would
as soon recommend a wife for a man
as an A, D. C„” said he.
In 1824 the cabinet, when it found
itself committed to war with the sing
of Burma, asked the uuke of Welling
ton for his advice. He replied at once,
bluntly, “Send Lord Combermere.”
"But W 6 have always understood
that your grace thought Lord Comber
mere a fool.”
"So he is a fool —an utter fool; but
he can take Rangoon.”
When the Duke of Wellington was
warden of the Cinque Ports the queen
went to Walmer Castle for change of
air. The cterk of the works preceded
her majesty and made some tawdry
repairs, at which the duke was greatly
displeased. When the queen went to
Strathfieldsaye the same clerk of
works preceded her. But here, in his
own home, the duke was beforehand
with him, and ordered mm off.
No alterations were made. The duke
Said, I just got ft few tables and a
harpsichord, and 1 asked the neigh
bors to meet her.”
This was so much out of u.e routine
of grand preparations and grand guests
that her majesty was much p.eased.—
Youth's Companion.
The Japanese Woman.
A writer, describing the Japanese
railways, says when a native lady en
ters a railway carriage she slips her
feet from her tiny shoes, stands upon
the seat and then sits demurely with
her feet doubled beneath her. All Jap
anese people sit with their feet upon
the sea. When the ticket collector
opens the door to collect tickets he re
moves his cap and twice bows politely.
He repeats the bow as he asks er:ch
passenger for his ticket.
Would Avoid the Trouble.
"I suppose you’d like to be worth
a million dollars?” she suggested.
“No mum." replied tlie tramp. "It
’ud be too much trouble lookin’ after
the money. All I want is that some
feller what’s worth a million dollars
shall provide fer me.” —Chicago Post.
Attention to Business.
A kindergarten teacher, hearing the
whistle of a passing train, asked a lit
tle Indian pupil what It was. Without
looking up from her card the child
replied, "I’m busy. I haven't time to
hear the wagon halloo." —The Indian's
Friend.
Taking the brain as the criterion.
Professor Wilder, of Cornell, finds that
the aurang-outang ranks next to man,
and not the gorilla, as heretofore
‘ taught.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT,! •,
He who flatters you is your enemy.
—Cardan.
He who lives but for himself lives
but for a little thing.—Barjand.
He ts the happiest who renders the
greatest number happy.—Desmalus.
We cannot always oblige, but we
can always speak obligingly.—Vol
taire,
The more honest a nvan Is the leas
he affects the air of a saint. —La-
vater.
Strong thoughts are iron nails driv
en In the mind, that nothing can draw
out. —Diderot.
Experience is a keen knife that
hurts, while It extracts the cataract
that binds.—De Finod.
To forgive a fault in another is
more sublime than to be faultless one’s
self. —George Sand.
The most completely lost of all days
Is the one on which we have not
landed. —Chamfort.
TO BOW OR NOT TO BOW.
How the Question Is Decided Accord
ing to Practices Among Our
English Cousins.
In decision with regard to “when
to bow” and “when not to bow” would
appear to be more general than that
experienced with regard to “shaking
hands” or "not shaking hands."
It may, perhaps, be considered a
matter of little moment whether a
bow Is given or withheld, or whether
a shake of the hand is given in lieu
oT a bow, but in reality it carries a
distinct significance whether the right
or the wrong thing is done on the spur
of the moment.
It should be understood that a bow
ls a ceremonious recognition between
those but slightly acquainted, or who
do not know each other intimately
enough to speak or to shake hands
with when they meet.
When, for instance, two women
meet who have been recently intro
duced, If bows are not exchanged
when passing each other It would be
next to Impossible to do so on a sub
sequent occasion, and thus the ac
quaintance comes virtually to an end.
Again, it is equally required that bows
should be exchanged between friends
unable to speak to each other on the
occasion of meeting, more especially
between men and women than be
tween women themselves.
If a woman does not bow to a man
she knows when he looks expectant
of her bowing to him he con
siders himself cut by her, although
she has nd such Intention, and was
really postponing her greeting until,
say, she- had shaken hands with her
host and hostess at an outdoor gath
ering.
The same equally holds good be
tween man and women as between
women. When slight acquaintances
meet at “at homes” and dinner par
ties to bow Is all that Is necessary, but
the bow should be made as Boon as
possible. If a woman Is seated, and
another arrives, as soon as the one
attracts the notice of the other, bows
should be exchanged.
There are incidental occasions when
bows are given. At breakfast in a
country house bows are the morning
salutation. At dinner parties, when
guests are seated far apart they can,
if inclined to do bo, bow and smile
at one another. Out driving is a fre
quent opportunity for bowing. Sit
ling out in the park is another equally
so; in fact, it Is difficult to say when
bowing should give place to shaking
hands. Once It has done so, however,
It can never occupy the same footing
With acquaintances who have been
met with a shake of the hand, al
though It serves the purpose of keep
ing in touch those separated by the
barrier of a crowd of circumstances
equally powerful to keep them tempo
rarily asunder. —London Express.
Her Cure for the Staring Habit.
"I have discovered a way to make
people stop staring at me," said the
sensitive girl.
“How?” chorused her friends. “We,
too, have suffered, especially in street
cars.”
“Well, when one goes into a street
car and takes a seat, of course the
usual 'sizing up’ begins and is to be
expected. But sometimes it goes fur
ther than that and becomes exceeding
ly annoying. There is no redress, and
when people are making almost audi
ble remarks about the fit of one’s gown
it is impossible to appear unconscious
of what is going on. Now, what I've
learned is this:
“At the very first sign of that sort of
thing all you have to do is to look .he
offending person full in the face and
then let your eyes travel slowly down
to the feet and rest there. If you keep it
up a while the result will be most
amusing, and if you can manage to
smile faintly, as your eyes reach the
feet it will work wonders.
“If the offender be a man his efforts
to get his pedal extremities out of
sight will be the funniest you ever saw.
A woman will curl hers up under her
gown, but she will not stare any more.
She will be too busy seeing that her
feet are carefully tucked out of the
way. Next time you are bothered try
it.” —New York Press.
The Pear Industry Increasing.
"Citrus fruits are now- being grown
in nearly every county in northern
and central California. They are not
only being grown, but profitably so,”
said D. G. Semmes at the Arlington.
“California could supply all of the or
anges used in the United States we re
It not for the fact that the orchard
ists find that It is more profitable
to raise prunes, apricots, peaches, ap
ples and pears,” which can be grown
at less cost and with a great deal
less risk. The output of the latter
fruit is growing with each year, and
oranges and lemons will to made to
take a back seat to a much larger
extent than heretofore.”—Washington
Star.
Professor Braun announced before
the Strasbnrg Scientific society that he
has discovered a method of producing
electrical energy of unlimited volume
and projecting it into space in the form
of electric waves, to any desired dis
tance.
TRAILING WILD ANIMALS. |
Fascination in Following Footprints of
Various Game.
Trailing deer Is one of the finest
sports of America, either up in the,
snows of Manitoba or down in the
south and west, where the black
tailed deer abound in the hills. The
deer is swift and cunning and the
hunter must needs he strong in wind
and limb to follow where he leads and
very wise to unravel the story of his
footprints. ’
The elegant hoofmark of the deer
could never be anything but a deer's
imprint to the old hunter —but men
may live years In places where deer
are found and yet on coming across
a footprint be unable to determine
whether is was made by a deer or by
a sheep or a pig. Indeed, the foot
prints of deer, sheep and pig, seen;
singly, are remarkably alike and only
an expert can tell the one from the
other. ;
To trail deer successfully needs the
cunning of the North American In
dian, who knows from the mere touch
and smell of the track not only how,
long ago the track was made, but also
the size and condition of the deer who
made it. The hunting Indian is as
cunning as the hunted deer himself; 1
ho seems himself to enter into the
very working of the brute mind. The
first mistake made by the young deer
hunted is to follow too closely on his
game. If the hunter watches the trail*
at his feet, Instead of looking ahead,
he may stumble on his deer unawares.
This is what the boy hunter did in
Thompson Seton’s little story of “The
Sandhill Stag.”
Sneaking along, watching the tracks
at bis feet, he was so startled when
the big eared grayish animals he was
after sprang suddenly up before him
tiiat he could only stand still and gaze
as they bounded away, rising higher
and higher at each bouhd. Then, whea
he goes to examine their trail, he
reads a wonderful story. Between one
track and the next he finds a blank
space of 15 feet, then another blank
after the next track, the blanks in
creasing to 18 feet, then to 20, to 25
and sometimes even to 30 feet.
The tracks made by running deer
have spaces between them of from 18
to 30 feet. Running deer are wing
less birds. "They do not run at all,
they fly,” said Thompson Seton, “and
once in awhile they come down again
to tap the hilltops with their dainty,
hoofs.”
If the hunter always followed on the
deer’s trail he might follow for thou
sands of miles without having a shot.
He must leave the trail when it
grows new and hot, make a detour and
lie up to ambush in front. By clever
maneuvering a strong man can al
ways run down the swiftest deer, and
then at the end of a long chase the
shortened blanks between the tracks
will tell the story of a deer grown
weary.
The deer often goes back on his
own trail. Sometimes, when the track
Is dim, it is hard to tell which way it
leads. But the footprint Is a little
sharper at the toe than at the heel,
and when the trail leads over a hill
the hunter can always tell which way
the animal came, for if he went up
the hill his spaces would be short,
through the labor of climbing.
All manner of tricks are played by
hunted deer who know that they are
hunted. One thing they often do is
to return a little way along their own
track and then, making a great leap
to one side, race away in another di
rection. Sometimes when hard
pressed deer repeat this maneuver
time after time, finally lying down to
rest (having bounded aside from the
last trail) in a spot where they can
smell and hear the hunter long be
fore he comes dangerously near. The
hunter, constantly finding himself on
cold scents, must patiently unravel
all the twisted story by the deer’s
feet, harking back on the cold scents
until he finds where the real trail
begins anew.—Chicago Tribune.
The Umbrella Nuisance.
Everybody has seen him, for he Is a
familiar figure on all the principal
streets and is multitudinous in num
ber —the man who holds his folded
umbrella by the handle so that it is
inclined backward at an angle of 45
degrees, and swings it as he walks.
This position of the weapon brings
the ferule exactly on a line with the
shins of the person behind the wield
er, and if there he no intimate and
painful contact between them it may
be attributed to the nimble dodging of
the owner of the shins than to the
fault of the owner of the umbrella.
If a man will carry an umbrella
when It, is not raining why does he
not use it as a walking stick, or hold
it by his side in an upright position?
What right has he to turn so useful an
instrument into a weapon, every stab
of which threatens to inflict a painful
wound? And yet if you remonstrate
with him there are 10 chances to one
that he will be seriously offended at
your presumption.
It Is saidi they do things quite dif
ferently abroad, particularly in tho
large cities of the continent. If a
man so far forgets himself—and oth
ers —as to carry his umbrella in that
way over there you have a perfect
conventional right to call him to or
der, and he politely responds by
thanking you for calling his.attention
to his breach of good form.—Detroit
Free Press.
Costly Catechisms.
The printed answers to questions
put in the house of commons have in
six months, under the new rule, cost
the taxpayer £2300. It is felt that
an average price of 255. per question
is too much for the information ob
tained, and the matter will be criti
cised when next the stationery office
vote comes up for discussion.—Print
ing Machinery Record.
Human Nature.
Hix —Say, I want to buy a good dog.
Dix —Now, that’s a sensible thing to
do. Every man should own a good
dog.
Hix—Do you know where I can get
one?
Dix—Sure. I’ll sell you mine,—Chica
go News,