Bellefonte, Pa., May i, 1891.
AT THE DOOR.
I thought myself indeed secure,
So fast the door, so firm the lock;
But lo! he toddling comes to lure
My parent ear with timerous knock.
My heart were stone could it withstand
The sweetness of my baby’s plea—
That timorous, baby-knocking, and,
“Please, let me in—it’s only me.”
I threw aside the unfinished book,
Regardless of its tempting charms,
And, opening wide the door, I took
My laughing darling in my arms.
Who knows but in eternity
I, like a truant child, shall wait—
The glories of a life to be,
Beyond the Heavenly Father’s gate?
And will that Heavenly Father heed
The truant’s opileating cry,
Asat the outer door I plead,
“Tis I, eh, Father! only I!”
— EugeneRudd.
ECE Er ————
-A NOB HILL PRINCESS.
BY EMMA S. ALLEN.
She lived, as a princess should, in
the palace of her father, the king. It
was one of the richest and most beauti-
ful of palaces, standing on an imposing
terrace and looking down with all the
majesty of a royal abode upon the sur-
rounding houses, though many of them
were equally splendid.
The king, after all, was net a king,
as he had no more royal blood in his
veins than a hackman er a car-conduc-
tor, He had left the aged father who
had given him the royal blood of hon-
esty as an heritage, and come to Cali-
fornia in “the days of 49" to search
for gold. He had found the gold, and
since that good fortune had created the
hunger and thirst for more and more
gold, there seemed to be no limit to his
ambition. Everything he touched had
‘turned to gold, and for .years people
had called him King 3idas. The
name clung to him after ke built his
palace on Nob Hill, and it was some-
times varied by the less classical ap-
pellation of “Old John Vernon, the
Bonanza King.”
The Princess Beatrice was the only
daughter—the only child. She was
the power behind the throne, even be-
fore her weak little mother succumbed
to the ill-health that had driven her all
over the face of the earth in search of
new climates and new physicians.
Since her death Beatrice had worn the
ermine exclusively, and worn it with
such unaffected simplicity and grace
that she was not spoiled one jot or tit-
tle. There was something in her na-
ture too sweet and womanly for any
amount of money or power to choke
out.
She stood, one evening, on the mar-
ble steps of thie grand piazza, looking
in her own dreamy fashion at the steel-
blue waters of San Francisco Bay, just
as the sun was going out. through the
Golden Gate. She was wondering, as
she had grown to wonder very frequent-
ly of late, why her father seemed
changed. He had a secret which he
was evidently keeping from her as long
as he possibly could—but a secret that
must be made public sooner or later.
Something in the expression of his face
as he avoided meeting her eyes, told
Beatrice all this. She wondered every-
morning if he would tell her before
night what it was. Her questioning
eyes scrutinized him very closely
across the fine damask and glittering
silver and crystal as she handed him
his Mochu or Oolong at breakfast,
lunch, or dinner.
“Do you believe it is possible that
he is going to fail?’ she asked her
very dearest friend in all the world—
father barely excepted—Helena Ashton
that afterngon.
“How can he fail?” said Helena,
with an inexpressible gesture.
Miss Ashton was an extraordinary
girl in a very ordinary position in life,
She was the oldest of three daughters,
and had very good reason to be proud
of a talented older brother who was
putting the zeal of his life into his pro-
fession.
*‘Oh,” rejoined Beatrice, composedly,
“he might as well fail as 2
“As the Bank of California ?”
“As well as ‘some other men who
have failed. I wonder how it would
seem to be poor.”
* ‘*As poor as we are?’
“No, you are not poor. You belong
to that happy class of which Young
tells in ‘Night Thoughts'—‘a goodly
competence ir all we can enjoy.” Your
father enjoys life as well—far better—
than mine does, because he has that in-
terest in another life that all my fath-
- er's money cannot buy; and your
mother—oh, Helena! if I only had
such a mother! But I never had.”
The princess would have cried if she
had been a erying girl; but she only
swallowed a little sob as she bent over
Helena's artistic work-table. When
she rose with sudden vehemence from
the mahogany and eld-rose plush chair
in which she had been idling it flew
back and struck the unfinished paint-
ing on Helena's easel, throwing it, face
downward, across the long, curved
rockers.
“Never mind, the paint is dry,” said
Helena, not stopping her work in the
velvet bed of arasene lilies. “You
could not hurt it any if it was not, It
is a storm at sea.”
Beatrice carefully replaced the pic
ture and adjusted a drape of amber silk
across the easel.
“You paint so much better than I
do—you do every thing better than I
do. You always did, since we began
to go to school together. Your broth-
er promised to find out what my mis-
sion in life is”—blushing slightly and
getting behind Helena's chair. “He
has given up the quest, I presume, as
a hopeless one—something past a law-
yer's ability to ferret out. Good-bye,
dear. Will you be at Mus. Adley’s
‘At home’ to-morrow evening?’
“Oh, yes.” .
Helena put down her work and went
arm-in-arm with her friend down the
stairs and out upon the lawn, They
you prefer to talk with her?”
stood together in the iron gateway for
a few moments, then the princess was
driven away from the pretty Queen
Anne house—a picturesque affair in
dull Indian red and terra-cotta shades
—to the portals of King Midas’s palace.
It was not alone of her father and
his unaecountable actions that Beatrice
was thinking as she stood on the piaz-
za looking over the waters of the bay.
“If I were a poor girl, I believe—
but he is too proud—too true and per-
fect a man to ever think of-—there isn’t
another like him in all the world.”
Which scattering reflections certain-
ly had no reference to her royal parent.
The unspoken thought brought a blush
to her face that made her brilliantly
beautiful, even to the stupid fostman
who answered her questions in the
hall.
“Is papa at home yet 2”
“No, miss. He went away an hour
ago 10 be gone until to-morrow night.
He left this message for you.”
Beatrice read the scrawling hand-
writing on a large white card that the
obsequious servant handed her on a
silver salver.
Dear zirTLE Princess: To-morrow
night I will tell you all chat I think
you must suspect now. It will be a
blow to you, and perhaps you will
blame me so much that you will nev-
er forgive me. I ought to have pre-
pared you for the news, but I put it off
from day to day with cowardly assur-
ance. ‘To-morrow will do as well.)
Come in to the library to-morrow even-
ning after you return from Mrs. Adley’s
and I will tell you what the papers
will announce the following morning.
Your FarHER.
There was no more doubt in Bea-
trice’s mind. = She was sure that her
time for heroic action had come. There
would be no more days of idleness and
nights of revel for her—no mere luxur-
ious sipping of the richest wine of life
from golden goblets—no more treading
of rose- strewn paths ; but thorns and
bitter draughs and work—real work
for her daily bread—would be her in-
heritance. All this she pictured in the
few brief moments she was ascending
the velvet-carpeted stairs to her own
beautiful suite of rooms,
She touched the button of the tele-
phone that her extravagant fancy had
caused to be constructed between her
sanctum sanciorum and Helena's sitting
room. Just at that hour the pride of |
the family was having a few moments’ |
chat with his favorite sister, his six !
feet of splendid manhood stretched on |
a couch just underneath the telephone.
He sprang up as the bell tinkled and
put the receiver to his ear, touched the
button and waving his hand in pro- |
test to his sister's interference.
“Hello, Lena! Do please come up
and stay all night; papa is away from
home. He left a message for me. My
suspicious are correct, I am satisfied—
he is on the verge of financial ruin.
He has promised to tell me to-morrow
night after | return from Mrs. Adley’s.
The next morning, he says, all the
world will know of it through the pa-
pers.” .
There was an excited ring in the
voice away off in the Nob Hill palace.
“Princess Beatrice, I don’t believe it
in spite of your correct suspicions,
Helena has just been telling me, in
confidence, of your anxieties. Itseems
to me the trouble must be something
elce.”
If the telephone could only have
conveyed to him the loud beating of a
woman's heart, what a useful inven-
tion it would have been to him in dis-
closing what he had never been able to
find out when the princess was talking
in the same room with him. He wait-
ed a moment for her reply.
*No,” it came presently, with metal-
lic precision; “it cannot be anything
else, Is Helena there?”
“Yes, your Royal Highness. Do
“Certainly. ell her I will sead the
carriage for her if she will come.”
“May I come with her!”
“If you choose.”
Helena pushed him aside.
“No, he can’t come with me. What
was it you told him that you intended
for me?” :
After standing silently listening to
some long sentences, she replied :
“All right, I will be ready, Phil is
not coming, for he is only waiting for
dinner to be off on some special busi-
ness with his client.”
Beatrice was one of the latest arri-
vals at Mrs, Adley’s that night. She
was never more simply dressed, and
never so lovely m Philip Ashton’s eyes.
He had sent her the first flowers he
had ever bought for her—passionate
blood-red roses—and she wore them:
with the simply-made cream satin.
Aside from the rich lace in neck and
elbow-sleeves they were her sole orna-
ments. Even the diamonds in her ears
had been put away, for appearance's
sake, on the eve of her father's ruin.
“Did I do wrong to come ?”’ she ask-
ed Ashton, when he stood under a pot-
ted palm tree in the music room, look-
ing-at her in the dim radiance of rose-
colored lamps.
“Why wrong?’
“Because people will make remarks
about it, in the morning, when they
know the truth.”
He covered her hand with his own
ag it rested on the back of a low divan.
“You are very philosophical in re-
gard to the matter. Why are you not
at home, as most girls would be, cry-
ing and wringing your hands ?”
He had never before so committed
himself by word, lock and action.
Beatrice understood the underlying
significance of the question. She an-
swered it ywith the same roundabout
directness. In spite of all their past
reserve they understood each other per-
fectly.
“I don’t believe,” frankly meeting
his adoring eyes, “that I am so very
sorry—sorry enough to cry or wring
my hands; I mean myself.” :
A strange, sweet knowledze kept
them silent for several moments.
When a passing couple had gone out
of sight and hearing, Ashton took both
her hands.
how long I have loved the king's daugh-
ter with a hopeless love ?”
“Perhaps,” said Beatrice, ‘for as
long a time as you have made her be-
lieve thatlas ‘the daughter of a hundred
earls, she was not to be desired.’ ”’
He lifted the hand to his lips.
“We succeeded in misunderstanding
each other perfectly, ther. I should
never have been braye enough to ask
King Midas’ little daughter for her
hand with all the royal jewels in its
palm.” .
%. 0% %. ® x =»
Beatrice tapped tremblingly at the
library door at midnight. After some
little delay her father opened it and
smiled very much as he ‘had been in
the habit of doing before he became
“peculiar.”
“Come in, my dear,” he said kissing
her, as he always did. “Don’t wear
your seal-skin in this warm room. Did
you enjoy the evening at Mrs. Adley’s?
Sorry I could not go with you.”
As he did not seein to expect an an-
swer to any question, Beatrice made
none. Shesank into the huge depths
of the nearest chair and stared blankly
at the old gentleman. He was not
pale and haggard and showed nosymp-
toms of paralysis. On the contrary,
his face wore a blush like a school-
boy’s and his eyes shone with any-
thing but a wild despair. The terrible
thought came to Beatrice that perhaps
the calamity had been the means of
darkening his mental faculties.
certainly did look foolish enough to
warrant the suspicion. :
“Don’t look so distressed, my dear.”
he began. “What I have to tell you
is not’ so terrible, after all—only I
should have prepared you for it grad-
ually. Don’t blame me too much you
know ‘there 1s no fool like an old
fool.”
“Qh, papa! tell me the worst at once.
For myself I do not care—but for you
it is dreadful.” Beatrice began to sob
as she flew into her father’s arms,
“What is dreadful for me? You
don’t know anything about 1t?” de-
manded he.
“I know enough to satisfy my sus-
picions.”
“Well, what do you know 2’
“Oh, papa! why do you act so
strangely ? I believe you are crazed
with trouble.” :
The old man scratched his bald head.
“Bless my bones! What isthe mat-
ter with you, Beatrice? It isn’t such
an awtal calamity for a man to be mar-
ried if he is sixty.”
Beatrice stood gaping with astonish-
ment,
“Well, my dear, is that what you
knew ?"7 laughed her father kindly.
“No—no! Is that all?”
“Yes; that isall. It 1s enough to
make me teel as young as I did at
twenty-five.”
“And you are not bankrupt? We
are not on the brink of ruin?”
John Vernon laughed uproariously.
“This is too much fun! Marion,”
he called, going to the half drawn por-
tierer ot the adjoining room, “come
and enjoy’ it with us.”
As the curtains were drawn back
Beatrice saw a sweet-looking woman
take her father's hand and cross the
room to where she stood in the third
or fourth stage of her amazement. She
was not half as old as her millionaire
bridegroom—not more than five years
Beatrice's senior.
“Beatrice, this is the new Mrs. Ver-
non—Queen Marion, the Princess Bea-
trice.”
When they all separated for the
night the princess and the queen swore
hfe long fidelity.
“It isn’t strange that you loved such
a little woman well enough to bring
her into the palace to usurp your prin-
cess, papa,” she told her father, when
they were alone fora moment. “But
she must have married you for your
money."
“Well, perhaps she did ; but Ashton
can't have it all in that case, you see.”
Beatrice had made him a confidant,
even in the presence of her youthfnl
step-mother.
The little telephone bell in Helena's
sitting room tinkled madly in the early
morning hours.
“Forgive me, Lena, for keeping you
waiting so long for the news. Have
you been asleep in your chair 7”
No; Helena had been taking a very
comfortable nap on the couch, obliv-
ious to her friend's sorrows. She re-
ceived the news with unmitigated sur-
prise, and, when she said good night
and shut up the instrument, glided
through the hall to her brother's door.
A light shone through the transom—
the ruddy glow of a coal firein the
grate before which Ashton was stretch-
ed in an easy chair, clad in a dressing
gown aud slippers, dreaming, but not
asleep.
“Well ?”” he interrogated, sitting up,
“has the telephone told the whole
truth 2”
“Yes”
“Poor old man !
he bears it 2”
“He bears it beautifully, I think
Bee is really to be congratulated ;” and
Helena’s grave face became canvalsed.
“It isn’t very much of a laughing
mater, is it!” said the young fellow
seriously,
“Yes, it is—the most decidedly fanny
thing I ever heard of,” said Helena.
And her brother thought so, too, five
minutes later. He did not laugh yery
much.
“Atter all,” he said, “the world will
say I am marrying the money instead
of Beatrice,”
There proved to be truth in the
newspaper report of the previous mori-
ing. A large wholesale house in the
city went into bankruptcy, and the
same papers that blazoned the news
abroad published romantic versions of
“old John Vernon's “marriage with a
beautiful young lady of Oakland.
“Perhaps,” said Beatrice to her lov-
er that evening,when he called, “I can
persuade papa to disinherit me, if you
object to even half the money. You
see, he might easily leave everything
to his wife.”
Did she say how
“My little princess! Do you know
She stood beside him, wearing her
He
——— TE
diamonds again, and a soft, trailing
tea gown of white and gold India silk.
He laughed happily.
“Since I have become so hopelessly
entangled, I shall have to submit to my
fate, royal jewels, princess and all.”
“That sounds heroic. We will let
the world say what 'it pleases,” and
Beatrice placed her hands, in his. *If
you had not proposed to me in such an
accidental way, I am not sure but I
should have taken the step myself,
‘Philip, my king.”
Teaching Lions,
Various Steps Explained by a Practi-
cal Trainer.
Long before I began to teach lions,
says B. E. Darling in the New York
Telegram, I had been acquainted with
the character of the animals. I had
dealt in wild animals, had attended
them, fed them, and so I was accustom-
ed to them. I knew considerable about
their nature and habits from observation
and not from the reading of books. I
used to be particularly interested in the
baby lions or cubs, and would endeavor
to cultivate their friendship and make
them fond of me.
When I resolved to train these lions
to perform tricks I started with fourteen
of these animals. Only two of that num-
ber proved serviceable, and those I now
have, and they perform at each of my
entertainments. Of the twelve lions I
discarded some were stupid, others died,
and some were vicious and several times
hurt me.
In training the animals the first thing
I did wasto go in their cage and sit
there. Nothing more than that; sim-
ply sit there hour after hour.
You may ask whether I wasn’t afraid
to do this. No; because, as I say, I
had for years been accustomed to be
with wild beasts. I will notsay it is a
pleasant experience to go in a lions’ den,
but it is not so bad as you might think
it would be if you know the animals
you deal with.
When I first went into the cage the
lions would growl; now and then they
would act as if they were going to bite
me. When they were kind and quiet I
would falk to them pleasantly as you
would a vicious dog you were trying to
train to like you. I would call them
“good old fellows,” “fine old fellows,”
and s0 on, and so they would get used
to a kind voice. After a while, some
two or three months, when they were in
their quiet moods I would venture to
touch them, finally to pat them gently
on the head or tv stroke them on the
back. When they were cross I would
stand apart from them, but without
showing any sign of fear. I used no
force with them. Such a method might
do in training some kinds of animals,
but it would not do with lions.
By being in the lions’ cage day after
day, and spending hours at a time there
and never ill-treating tiem I gained
their confidence. Naturally they are
afraid ot human beings, or rather, I
should say, they dislike the presence of
human beings. In their native state
lions, when young and active, live by
hunting in the forest far fromm human
habitations and seldom quit their re-
treats while they are able to gain a sub-
sistence. When they become old and
unable to surprise their game they bold-
ly come down into places more frequent-
ed. They attack the flocks and herds
near the habitations of the shepherd or
the husbandman. [t is remarkable
however, when they make their sallies,
if they find men and quadrupeds in the
same field they only attack the latter
and never meddle with men unless pro-
voked to a fight.
Lion tamers before me have not
sought to teach the animals tricks. It
was my ambition to appeal to their good
sense and intelligence, the same as we
do in the case of the dog or the horse.
So, after I had gained the confidence of
my animals,and was able to touch them,
to stroke them and to pat them on the
head, I would pick out the best lion
and put a chain around his neck and
lead him around the cage. It took a
long time, you must remember, before I
could touck him, and a longer time
still before he would allow me to put the
chain upon him and lead him any dis-
tance. :
‘When T had arrived at this stage of
the training I was on such familiar
terms with my beasts that I allowed my-
self to talk sternly to them, and repri-
mand them if they did net obey my
commands.
But there is this important thing to
be borne in mind in the the training of
lions(and I will mention it in case my
young readers wish to adopt my profes-
sion):—You must continually keep your
eye on the animal and see that you
are not worrying him and making him
do toomuch. You learn to know his
disposition simply by being with him,
the same as you know people by being
with them and studying their disposi-
tions. A lion easily becomes confused
when he is being taught, and when he
gets in that candition he is apt to be ug-
ly and dangerous; and so one of the]
principal parts of the lion trainer’s art is
too watch the lion, to study his disposi-
tion and tostop before you have given
him too much to do.
Training a lion is something like
training a bulldog; you must first gain
his confidence and you ‘must let bim
know you are his master. After the
lion allowed himself to be led by a
string I would march him around an
arena, run with him. Then I would put
trifling obstacles in his way. First a
small log, which he would learn to jump
over; then gradually I would increase
the size of the obstacle, using firsta
small box, then a larger box, and so dn |
until finally, after many days of regular |
exercise, I hed a jumping lion. |
The some kind of training was pur-
sued in teaching him to ride the bicycle |
and to drive him like a horse—it was a |
gradual process of leading him on. Af- |
ter I had got him so that he would be
led around the arena it was not such a
dificult matter to drive him with reins
instead of leading him with a rope.
The same with riding a tricycle, though |
that is a more diflicult trick and took a!
longer time to teach, but it was simply
leading the animal on from one style of
the performance to the other until he
bad mastered the art.
1t has taken me from ten to thirteen
months to train my lions. Some are
more docile than others. One is very
affectionate, more like a dog than a wild
.
{ I go out,” she said, artlessly.
| careless that it woulda’ be safe.
A mon
beast; one is savage at times, but he is
driven to the chariot at every perfor-
mance.
You have some times heard that a
lion tamer charms, magnetizes or hyp-
notizes the animal with his eyes. That
is not true. It is possible to pursue
this course with human beings, but a
lion will not remain quiet long enough
to come under such influence.
The best lions in the world come from
the central part of Africa, from: Nubia
and Abyssinia. The latter is a particu-
larly rich country, full of forésts and all
sorts of game and wild animals, My
lions came frome these sections, When
I am in countries where the horse is
used as an article of food I feed my lions
on horse meat. The reason for this is,
that coming from a warm climate the
flesh of the horse which contains consid-
erable heat, will warm up their blood
better than any other kind of food. I
do not use it in countries where it is not
used for human food, because the meat
might be diseased. In this country I
use lean beef, and the animals are giv-
en about eight pounds a piece a day.
A Ghastly Necktie.
Awful Experience of a Mining Pros-
pector in a Colorado Landslide.
“Yes, that may be an old necktie, but
it is not the queerest neck wear I have
worn,” Henry B. Gillespie of Aspen,
Col., remarked to a servant at the Grand
Pacific as he was removing a little Chic-
ago real estate from his countenance.
“I once wore a corpses for a necktie.
“It was in the afternoon of March 10,.
1884, that I started up Aspen Moun-
tain to visit a claim which I thought
was located upon my land. Should I
find that my surmise was wrong, I in-
tended to purchase the owner's right
for $73,000, and accordingly I took my
mining superintendent with me.
It was snowing quite hard.
The mine-owners refused to al-
low me to go down the shaft to make
level explorations, but consented to al-
low my superintendent to accompany
them, I remained in the shaft house
with a few laborers. At exactly 5.40
o’clock, one of the miners asked me the
time. I had just closed my watch,
when crash | and we were hurled into
a promiscuous mass of timbers, men,
ore, snow and ice.
‘We had been enveloped in a genu-
ine Colorado landslide. I fell near a
stack of ore bags corded several feet
high, The roof timbers fell so as to
allow me about eight inches of leeway.
Around my neck, bent into a semicircle
by the pressure of the terrible wall of
ice and snow that was heaped above,
was the lifeless body of the miner who
had asked me for the time. Poor fel-
low, he found that time, all time was
before him. His head and shoulders
were crushed into a jelly, which the
ever-sinking weight squeezed around my
neck until the torn flesh penetrated my
clothing. His lower extremities shared
a similar fate on the other side of my
head. My breathing was restricted.
A few feet away and resting upon my
outstretched right arm, was the mangled
body of another vietira, Three others
perished in the shaft.
“There I remained in that silent, op-
pressive cell, with my ghastly necktie
until midnight, when a rescuing party
of 200 inhabitants of the mining camps
ot Roaring Forks cut me out of my
icy prison. The snow had become ice ;
hence the small army of willing miners
found plenty of work for their picks and
spades. But if my situation was terri-
ble, what was that «of those imprisoned
in the mines? They were not so
cramped for room and oxygen, though.
“Only four men buried in that aval
anche were rescued: Now, that is how
I once wore a peculiar necktie.’,—Chi-
cag News.
A St. Louis Charity.
A meek-eyed, mild spoken man drop-
ped around to the hotel in St. Louis one
evening last fall, and as fast as he cane
to any one whom he sized up as “safs”
he said : i
“Tt is a case of charity—a notle
charity—but we are opposed to any-
thing like a subscription. The widow
wouldn’t have it that way, you knaw.
‘We bave, therefore, arranged for a tn-
round go between the Missouri Terjor
and the St. Louis Chain Lightning.
Comes off at 10 o’clock- -admission 31.
Its for blood, and the money goes to
the widow of the best dog-handler inthe
United States.” i
It seems a sort of duty to go aronnd
with the crowd and pay the admistion
fee. The affair was to come offin a
barn, and when the principals entered
the ring there were sixty-two of us/dol-
lar men present. They shook hands,
‘put up” in good shape, and the kpow-
ing ones predicted a hot time. the
first punch the Terror made, however,
the other fell down seemingly uncon-
scious, and after working over him for
five minutes the meek-eyed man stood
up and said : |
“Gents, I am sorry to inform vou that
Chain Lightning is a dead man. He
has evidently died of heart failure, and
under the adverse circumstances the
fight cannot goon. I'll haveto send
for the police.” :
Of course everybody made a hustle
to get away, only too anxious to escape
arrest and detention, and the bara was
emptied in thirty seconds. Next day,
as I was going down the river on a
steamboat, I heard two men in the
stateroom next to mine disputing.
“Well, make it an even divide,” said
one.
“Of course, ils even,” replied the
other. “Bill worked in the crowd,
you played dead on em, and I had the
rig there to get off. Purty slick
game, but you died too soon. You
ought to have waited until I got in one
on you.”
——————————
-~“No. I never carry my wateh when
“I am so
Why
a person could steal anything right from
under my nose and I wouldn’t miss it.”
Then the young man stole & kiss
right from under her nose and she
didn’t seem to miss it.—QChicago Tri-
bune.
I was a sufferer from eatarrh for
fifteen years, with distressing pain over
my eyes. I used KEly's Cream Balm
with gratifying results. Am apparently
cured: —Z, C. Warren Rutland, Vt.
How to Control Him.
How to control man is a nice but nt
a difficult problem. The average man,
and it is folly to waste time on one be-
low the average intelligence and cuiture,
is mentally and moraily amenable to
improvement. He is a well meaning,
pig-headed, thoughtless creature, but he
13 fearless, loyal and responsive to
good influence. Civilization has made
man a warring animal, aggressive and
domineering: ~ Ii was once a measure-
ment of physical strength between man
and man, now is a measurement of
brain against brain. Men, since time
began, have heard themselves and that
for which they stood,. reviled and
abused.
Men are used to opposition. Antag-
onism spurs them on, rouses the fight.
Antagonism only hastens the evil it
would avert. Men arc unused to kind.
ness. Admiration tickles them and
praise bewilders them. The man who
goes to battle mighty in the armor of
his wrath is laid low when his enemy
{ burns incense instead of powder. The
| foundation of matrimonial comfort
must be laid at the very beginning.
Nowhere is delay so dangerous. Solo-
mon, to whom we are all indebted, nev-
er said a wiser thing than *‘whoso ruleth
Lis spirit is greater than he who taketh
a city.” Consequently a quick and ex-
acting or a jealous, selfish or silly wo-
man must lose the day and put up with
an irritable and indifferent husband.
Praise at the right time and for the
right thing is the secret power over a
man. This praise, however, must not
be thrown out indiscriminately or in
solid chunks. It must be opportune
and delicately minced and seasoned.
One does not fish for crabs with a quar-
ter of beef. Just as much asa crab can
grasp at one time is the rule.
A woman must not only hold between
herself and her lord the velvet shield of
silence and patience, but she must en-
circle his neck with a silken lasso of
diplomatic speech. Being unused to
all flattery and praise, he is necessarily
susceptible. Don’t flatter a man on his
personal appearance. The moment you
make him conscious of good looks you
have developed the poser or the masher.
Assure him tenderly, however, that,
though not an Apollo, his appearance
suits you. Pointout to him the weak-
ness of other men, and tell him how
grateful you are for his freedom from
such faults. Hold up before him your
ideal as reflected in himself. It will
stir his plastic soul with gratitude and
develope in him a mad desire to be
what you have painted him. When he
occasionally droops, gets cross, refuses a
reasonable request, or comes home late,
don’t rail or weep because you have
suffered. Simply look the patient mar-
tyr, betray no feeling save disappoint-
ment in this sign of his weaknees. He
will consume with regret and scramble
back to the place on the pedestal,
rre—
A New Indu stry.
The firm of C. Y. Mayo & Sons, of
this county, have shipped to a party in
Pensacola, Fla., this week, a sample
carload of sweetgum 1des, or satin wal-
nut, as it is known commercially. This
timber has been on the market for a
number of years, being shipped to
Europe from New York, New Orleans
and other points, but up to the present
time none has beea shipped from this
section of Alabama.
Mr. Mayo, who has given the subject
considerable study, says that the sweet-
gum timber to be found in this section is
of excelient quality and size, and he be-
lieves there is good money in it for some
one. He will make a thorough experi-
ment with it any rate. It will com-
mand a price of twenty-five cents per
cubic foot and will not be required to
stand a high aversge in size. Further
devolopments in this line will be duly
reported.
CT —.———
American Tea.
Mr. Gill, an expert on tea, shows
from careful calculations made in China,
India and Ceylon that teas are produced
and made ready for use at an average
cost of from 4} to 5} cents per pound.
China, he tells us, which formerly en-
joyed a monopoly of the trade, now pro-
duces less than half the tea used in Eu-
rope and America, and he maintains
with great show of reason, that the tea
may be grown in large areas of the
Southern States as successfully and pro-
fitably as any where else in the world.
A rich, sandy loam of good depth and
drainage, and a moist climate, are the
two essential requisites, and the tree or
bush will stand a considerable degree of
cold. . :
Two OLD GuUNs. — Mr. William
Moulten, of this town, has in his posses-
sion two old guns which are remarkable
in their way. One was carried by his
great grandfather, Timowny Kingsley,
in the campaign against Burgoyne’s in-
vasion, and he was present with it on
the memorable 17th of October, 1777,
when the young English adventurer
laid down his arms. Mr. Kingsley
used to say that ‘it was the grandest
sight he ever saw.” Mr. Moulton also
has a gun carried in the French and In-
dian war by Captain Durkee, of Ash-
ford, which was afterward carried in the
Revolution by his great Uncle, Captain
William Moulton. Both of these arms
are substantially in the same condition
as they were when they were in active
service.
RevorLurioNArRy Winows.—Twen-
ty-three Rovolutionary widows are on
the pension rolls of our government,
though we are in the second century
since the close of the war. They must
have been youthful bride of veterans,
like the Scotch lass of seventeen who
married John Knox when he was in his
sixtieth year.
——“Where are you going my pretty
maid ?”
“I'm going a shopping,
said.
“And what are you buying my pretty
maid 27’
“Nothing. =~ I'm shopping ;
all,” she said.-— Washington Post.
sir,?? ‘she
that’s
——The hourly rate of water ever
the Niagara Falls is 100,000,000 tons,
representing 16.000,000 horse power ; in
the total daily production of coal in the
world would just about suffice to pump
this water back.
-n
&