Bellefonte, Pa., July 12, 1895.
WHICH WAY?
Children, stop your play
And tell me which way :
1 hall take to reach the city on the hill.
First the girl,
With a smile;
“This way : .
Through the woods, across the stile,
By a brook where wild flowers grow, -
here the birds sing sweet and low;
Then you forget it is so far,
And how tired you are;
For the calm rests you, makes you still,
If you take this way tothe city on the hill.
Then the boy,
With a frown;
“By the mill and through the town—
“You will see the soldier there,
Hear theldrums and watch the fair;
Thentyou forget the way is long
While you walk in the throng,
For the noise wakes you, makes you thrill,
When you go this way to the city on the
hill»
—San Francisco Alta.
KNUCKS' 4th OF JULY.
dt was during the hottest hour of the
hottest day thus far this season, when
the streets of the city were like so
many ovens, that a small boy present-
ed himself at the office of the secretary
of the Fresh Air Fund society.
There was little ot boyishness in his
face, and nope of the elasticity of
childhood in his step. He seemed
weak, as if ill from the intense heat.
He removed his tattered hat at the
door and stepped just inside, holding
on to the door casing with one-hand.
“Got a chance for me, sir?’ he
asked timidly.
“No my boy,” answered the secre-
tary. ‘No one wants boys yet.”
The lad made no answer. His
weak, dragging footsteps carried him
out of the building and down the hot
street for a few blocks. Then he stag-
gered a few steps, threw up his hands
weakly, wavered blindly and fell in a
heap on the pavement.
“Another sunstroke,” said the po-
liceman who picked him up.
Next day another boy came to the
secretary's office with the question,
“Any chance for me sir?’ And again
the secretary answered that nobody
wanted boys yet.
This boy limped on a crutch, for one
of his legs hung withered and useless,
but his limp was brisk, despite the
heat and his evident weariness.
And when he heard the discourag-
ing answer to his plea he limped out
again briskly, and even whistled a few
gay notes. But he stopped when out
of hearing and one hand slipped fur-
tively up. and dashed a tear or two
away. .
Upon the following afternoon an en-
tirely different sort of a visitor came to
the office of the secretary of the fund.
He was a tall, angular man and came
striding briskly up the hot street, mop-
ping his moist forehead with a red
handkerchief.
He might have been less hot had he
been so minded. He was walking un-
sheltered from the fierce glare on the
eunny side of the street, and not only
that, but was clad in a well worn pep-
per and salt suit of clothes amply
warm enough for any weather short of
freezing.
Instead of a straw hat he wore a
thick black slouch. In addition he
wae striding along as if walking for a
wager.
When he entered the office of the
Fresh Air fund, the secretary looked
up from his writing, then greeted him
politely.
“Paul Hallett, I reckon ?" inquired
the newcomer.
“That is my name, sir.
I do for you?”
“Well, you might remember me.”
“] am sorry, but’’— oy
“Not surprisin, Name's Joplin—
What can
" John Joplin from Colorado.”
“Mr. Joplin, I hardly”’—
“You remember Romford, up among
the Connecticut hills? Remember the
little yellow schoolhouse jest across the
brook ? Remember the lanky Jop-
lin boy ?”
“I—why ot course I remember you,
John Joplin,” said Mr. Hallett, with a
hearty ring in his voice. “And I am
truly glad to see you again, old friend.”
“That's good to hear. You're the
rame Paul.”
“I don’t know, John.
more years is a long time.
they served you ?”
“I've had my ups and downs,’ ans-
wered Mr. Joplin, “fought my fights
and got my scars. Yes, twenty odd
years is a long time, Paul. I didn’t
realize it till 1 walked under the elms
up in old Romford the other day.”
Mr. Joplin, in his well worn pepper
and salt suit, did not look particularl
prosperous, and the secretary was
afraid that he had been obliged to
eave and hoard in order to make this
journey back east to visit old scenes.
But he was very glad to see him,
and he was talking over old times
when he was interrupted by the en-
trance of the lame boy who had come
the day before and gone away with a
whistle on his lips and tears in his
eyes.
“Got a chance for me yet, gir 2’ -he
asked. :
“Yes, my lad,” the secretary an-
swered, “I have just one chance for a
boy. You can spend your Fourth of
July week in the country? What is
your name?"
As he spoke he held out a card.
“Hi!” The boy fairly snatched the
card and hopped out of the room with
a emothered whoop.
Twenty and
How have
“Here! Here!’ called the secreta-
ry after him. “What's your name ?”’
“Knucks,”
The boy was already in the street:
and speeding along the pavement as
fast as his crutch would carry him,
and if there was any more of his name
Mr. Hallett did not catch it.
“What's this business anyhow ?"
asked Mr. Joplin. “I don’t exactly
se2 through it.”
Mr, Hallett briefly explained the so-
ciety. Its beneficiaries were among
the children of the very poor, who
could never hope to escape for even a
day from the exhausting heat of the
stifling city unless helped. ; :
Kind people living out in the
eountry send in their names signifying
their willingness. to entertain a girl or
a boy for a week. The society paid
for the transportation of the children
to and from the country.
“But very few of these kind people
want boys nowadays,” continued Mr.
Hallett. “The little chaps are in-
clined to be riotous. Nearly every
one has asked for girls of late. The
boys do a good deal of mischief and
behave, I presume, like wild Indians.”
“Qr just simply like boys ?’’ suggest:
ed Mr. Joplin.
Mr. Hallett was in love with his
work, poorly paid though his position
was, and he told the man from Colo-
rado a great deal about-it. Mr. Jop-
lin listened gravely.
“It’s a good notion,” he said, “and
human.”
And then little Knucks returned.
He hopped in and laid the card on the
desk.
‘Here is the ticket back again, sir,”
he said. “Let some other boy use it.
I don’t need it.”
And he turned and started to hop
from the room.
“But, my boy’’—began Mr. Hallett.
“I don’t need it,” the lad repeated,
hopping toward the door. oe
“But your country week’’'—
“I’m not goin.” He was outside of
the door by this time.
Mr. Joplin’s tall form uprose sud-
denly from his chair. He took a few
long steps and placed his big hand on
the lad’s shoulder.
“Here! be said, fairly propelling the
little chap back into the ro.
“Come back here :
“I'm not a goin to the country to-
morrow,” the lad persisted. “Lemme
go; I'm busy!”
“Sit down there!” commanded Mr.
foie.
ow, when Knucks had received
the precious ticket entitling him to the
country week he had flown homeward
as fast as his crutch would carry him.
"Little Jimmy Patton, the sun-strick-
en lad, lay on the brisk little cripple’s
bed. He looked up weakly as his
friend came into the room.
“I've got it, Jim!” Knucks cried
eagerly. “I've got a ticket for one, an
you can go to the country to-morrow !”
“You'll get well now, old man!”
cried Knucks., “An Jim you jest re-
member everything you do and see an
hear fer ter tell me.”
The sick boy held out the the ticket.
“I ain't goin, Knucky,”’ he said.
“you are the one who got the ticket;
you are to go!”
Mr. Hallett was a keen questioner,
and it was not till he had the whole
story.
“Course I wouldn’t listen to him,”
said Knucks in telling it. “But it’s
no use; he says I got the ticket an
I’ve got to ge on it.'
“Well, why don’t you?” said Mr.
Hallett.
“Me? The boy’s tone was defiant
but he looked worried and troubled,
more than he would tell. “Me go?
Who'd take care of him while”’—His
voice shook, and he started to hop
from the room. “Keep your ticket,”
he jerked:
“Sit down there again,” said. Mr.
Joplin. “Here little feller, both of
you can go to the country.”
Knucks had sat down, and now for
a moment he stared at the man in the
pepper and salt suit.
“There's only one ticket,” he falter-
ed finally.
“Hang tickets I" cried Mr. Joplin.
“You fellers are goin with me. To-
morrow’s the Fourth of July. I'll
give a potlatch., I—git along with
you. Tell the other little feller that
both of you are goin to the country
with me tomorrow. Say, hold on.
Any more sick boys you know of?
Invite 'em all”
“John,” interrupted the secretary.
“Invite 'em all,” said Mr. Joplin,
talking him down. “You've got to
have a crowd when you give a pot-
latch. Hold on! Better let Mr. Sec-
retary do the invitin. But you and
the other little chap be on hand here
at this office by sun up. Don’t for-
get!” :
Knucks glanced at the secretary in-
quiringly and got a reassuring nod.
He flew for home as fast as he could
possibly go, wholly unmindful of the
heat, and told the giorious news, Jim
immediately sat up in bed declaring
that he felt well.
“But what's a potlatch ?’ he asked
presently.
“I dunno,” answered Knucks, “but
iv’s something good.”
Next morning a mob of children
stood collected at the door of the Fresh
Air society before the sun rose. They
were all boys.
Such a crowd of weaklings as they
were—white faced, skimpy little fel-
lows—but every face ashine with ea-
gerness,
While Mr. Hallett had been issuing
the invitations the giver of the potlatch
had been equally busy. He had
strode hither and thither, made pur,
chases and sent telegrams. #
Presently all wasready. Across the
ferry they were bundled into the cars,
and a variety of boxes of all sizes were
thrust into the express car, and away
they went.
It was still early in the forenoon
when they reached their destination—
a pretty green bowered country village
who was riding on the seat beside the
driver, lifted his this face to sniff
the breeze that blew fresh and odorous
from the trees. . ¥
“Smell the green, Kuoucks,” he
cried, turning to his comrade who was
perched on oboe of the boxes in the
wagon. ‘Oh, smell the green I”
“The first thing,” said Mr. Joplin’s
big voice, “isto eat. Some of us didn’t
have as much breakfast as we wanted,
and mebby some of us didn’t have an
at all. So eat now fellers, and tal
later on.”
All those urchins fell upon the long
table almost like as many ravenous
wolves. Andthen in a moment Jim-
my whispered something to Knucks,
and Knucks hopped over to where
Mr. Hallett was and whispered to him,
“Mebby we oughn't to eat too much,
gir. It costs lots of money, an perhaps
Mr. Joplin”'—
“Mr, Joplin is the owner of a great
cattle ranch out in Colorado,” ans.
wered Mr. Hallett. ‘He can afford
this.”
“We didn’t know,” said Knucks,
“His pepper and salt suit looks kinder
—well, we—we didn’t know."
And when Mr, Hallett told the man
from Colorado what Knucks had said
Mr. Joplin laughed a big, hearty
“Haw! Haw!” and then he looked
himself over, and then he colored, ard
then he laughed again.
When they had all eaten and were
filled, Mr. Joplin stood up at the head
of the mighty breakfast table in his
seedy pepper and salt, and he ead
rather awkwardly :
“I asked Mr. Hallet to make youa
speech, but he says I've got to do it.
I haven’t much to say. This is tae
Fourth of July. It's the proper thing
to read the Declaration of Indepen-
dence on the Fourth of July, but tae
only Declaration of Independence we're
goin to have here is that we're goin to
do just exactly as we please all dsy
long.
“We're goin to yell as much and as
loud as we please. There are two big
boxes of firecrackers over there, and
we're goin to help ourselves to all we
want and shoot till they’re all gone.
“We're goin to eat again at 1 o'clock
and again at 6 o'clock, and we've got
to keep busy in the meantime, or we
won’t have good appetities.
‘After dinner the ice cream freez:rs
will be opened and every feller will
grab a spoon. There are four or five
barrels of red apples. The heads will
be knocked in pretty soon, and we'll
fill our pockets and hats,
“This is my potlatch, understand,
and everybody takes all he wants and
does what he pleases with it. Fall
into the brook if you want to, or eat
yourselves sick, or break your arms;
it's all right. A doctor goes with the
rest of the potlatch if you need him.
We''—
“Oh, John, that is not the way to
talk to them,” interrupted Mr. Hallet
“I'd like to know why it ain’t,”’ an.
swered Mr. Joplin. “A potlatch that
ain't a free pitch in ain’t no potlatsh
at all. Well, then, I'll make this con-
dition : No boy shall take advantage
of any smaller boy. If he does, I'll
thrash him.” ;
“So will we!” yelled the boys.
“I think I ought to add something
to what Mr. Joplin has said,” spoke
Mr. Hallett. ‘In the «first place, I
presume you are puzzled to know what
a potlatch really is. 1 was myself till
Mr. Joplin explained.
“Away out west, among certain
tribes of Indians, when a savage
aspires to stand high among his fel
lows he saves up blankets and all sorts
of desirable articles till he has as great
a store of them as possible. Then he
invites his tribe to a feast and gives
away all the accumulation.
“It makes a beggar of him for a
long time, but he has won the esteem
of his tribe as long as he lives. Mr.
Joplin has given you a -potlatch of
happiness, and I think he has won
more than the giver of an Indian pot-
latch ever won.”
“Hurrah ! Yes, sir-ee!”
the boys.
“Tell 'em what made me give it,”
said the man from the west.
And Mr. Hallett told in a few sim-
ple words the story of the unselfish-
ness of Jimmy and Knucks. And the
boys, being boys, only whooped, but
their whoops meant a great deal.
And not once during the whole In-
dependence day did one of them im.
pose upon another, nor break any-
thing, nor commit any act that could
make the giver of the potlatch regret
in the slightest degree what he had
done.
During the afternoon Mr. Joplin ar-
ranged with various families in the
village to take care of such boys as
needed more than a day of the coun-
try air as long as they might require
it, and“ the next week Xnucks and
Jimmy found that it was all settled
that they should live in the country for
a year at Mr. Joplin’s expense.
At night, after the fireworks had
been shot off and it was time to begin
the march for the train, the boys cheer-
ed for Mr. Joplin till they could have
be@® heard nearly a mile, and when
they stopped Mr. Joplin said :
“Thank ye, fellers.””—T. P. Morgan
in Boston Herald.
whooped
——He loved her.
True his incomes were only fifteen
r.
But he loved her and he would ask
her to be his.
She was speaking now, however, and
that M=. Hallett had recommended—
there was a brass band at the depot to |
meet them.
“Ware here,
Joplin to his boys. “This is the
place. It's out in the open air, and |
to-day’s the Fourth of July. Yell all |
you want to. The band will now play. |
The musicians headed the procession |
of whooping lads to a pleasant grove |
just outside of town. The boys who !
couldn’t run walked, and those who!
couldn't walk rode in a long wagon ou !
top of the boxes that had come from
the city.
As they entered the grove little Jim,
fellows !”’ cried Mr. |
it is impolite to interrupt.
Yes, she was saying. My mother
had twenty-three children
ville and a select few from the
| cortege without.
He clutches convulsively at his chair, |
——under her care when she was teach- |
er at Dry Forks school.
Then his heart resumed operations
and shortly afterwards she lisped a hap-
py Yes.
——The legislature of this State pass-
ed bills appropriating $23,182,000 for
the next two years. The estimated re.
ceipts are only $19,000,000. Now Gov-
appropriations about four millions.
"wood will do.
St. Helena to Paris. |
The Removal of Napoleon's Body—Impressive
Ceremonies at thé Church of the Invalides.
The grave in the valley of Napoleon,
on St. Helens, as the place had come to
be called, was surrounded by an iron
railing set in a heavy stone curb. Over
the grave was a covering of 6 inch stone
which admitted to a vault 11 feet deep,
8 feet long and 4 feet 8 inches broad and
was apparently filled with earth, but
digging down some seven feet a layer of
Roman cement was found. This brok-
en laid bare a layer of rough hewn stone
10 inches thick and fastened together by
iron clamps. It took 4} ou to re-
move this layer. The stope up, the
slab forming the lid of the interior sar-
cophagus was cxposed, inclosed in a
border of Roman cement strongly at-
tached to the walls of the vault. So
stoutly had all these various coverings
ibeen sealed with cement and bound by
iron bands that it took the large party
of workers ten hours to reach the
coffin.
“The outermosteoffin was slightly in-
jured,” says an eyewitness. ‘Then
came one of lead, which was in good
condition and inclosed two others—one
of tin and one of wood. The last coffin
was lined inside with whitesatin,which,
having become detached by the effect of
time, had fallen upon the body and en-
veloped it like a winding sheet and had
become slightly attached to it.
“Tt is difficult to describe with what
anxiety and emotion those who were
present waited for the moment which
was to expose to them all that was left
of the Emperor Napoleon. Notwith-
standing the singular 4tate of preserva-
tion of the tomb a we could
scarcely hope to find Anything but some
misshapen remains ¢f the least perish-
able part of the costume to evidence the
identity of the body. But when Dr.
Guillard raised the sheet of satin, an in-
describable feeling of surprise and affec-
tion was expressed by the spectators,
many of whom burst into tears. The
emperor himself was before their eyes.
The features of the face, though i
ed, were perfectly recognized ; the hands
extremely beautiful ; his well known
costume had suffered but little, and the
colors were easily distinguished. The
attitude itself was full of ease, and but
for the fragments of satin lining which
covered, as with fine gauze, several parts
of the uniform, we might have believ-
ed we still saw Napoleon lying on his
bed of state.”
* * * *
The climax of the pageant in Paris
was the temple of the Invalides, The
spacious church was draped in the most
magnificent and lavish fashion and
adorned with a perfect bewilderment of
imperial emblems. The light was shut
out by hangings of violet velvet; tri-
pods blazing with colored flames, and
thousands upon thousands of waxen
candles in brilliant candelabra lighted
the temple. Under the dome, in the
place of the altar, stood the catafalque
which was to receive the coffin.
It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon when
the archbishop ot Paris, preceded by a
splendid cross bearer, and followed by
16 incense boys and long rows of white
clad priests, left the church to meet the
rocession. They returned soon. Fol-
owing them was the Prince de Join-
rand
apo-
leon’s coffin.
The king descended from his throne
and. advanced to meet the cortege.
‘Sire,’ said the Prince de Joinville, “I
present to you the body of Napoleon,
which, in accordance with your com-
mands, I have brought back to France.”
“J receive it in the name of France,”
replied Louis Philippe.
Such at least is what the ‘Moniteur’’
affirms was said. The Prince de Join-
ville gives a different version: Itap-
pears that a little speech which I was to"
have delivered when I met my father,
and also the answer he was to give me,
had been drawn up in council, only the
authorities nad omitted to inform me
concerning it. So when I arrived I
simply saluted with my sword, and then
stood aside. I saw indeed that this sil-
ent salute, followed by retreat, had
thrown something out, but my father,
after a moment’s hesitation, improvised
some appropriate sentence, and the mat-
ter was afterward arranged in the ‘Moni-
teur.’ ”’ .
Beside the king stood an officer, bear-
ing a cushion. On it lay the sword of
Austerlitz. Marshal Soult handed it to
the king, who, turning to Bertrand,
said :
“General, I commission you to place
the emperor's glorious sword on the
bier.”
And Bertrand, trembling with emo-
tion, laid the sword reverently on his
idol’s coffin. The great audience watch-
ed the scene in deepest silence. The
only sound which broke thestillness was
the half stifled sobs of the gray haired
soldiers of the Invalides, who stood in
places of honor near the catafalque.
The king and the procession returned
to their Talsess and then followed a
majestic funeral mass. :
In their midst
The Trade in Sawdust.
In New York city there are about
600 venders of sawdust, having a capi-
tal of $200.000 invested and doing a
business of $2,000,000 annually. Forty
years ago the mills were glad to have
the sawdust carted away ; twenty-five
years ago it could be bought for fifty
cents a load ; now it brings $3.50 & lead
at the mills.
1t is used in hotels, eating-houses,
groceries and other business places. It
is wet and spread over floors in order to
make the sweeping cleaner work.
Plumbers use it a great deal about pipes
and buildings to deaden the walls and
floors. Soda water men and packers of
glass and small articles of every kind
use it and dolls are stuffed with it.
Yellow pine makes the best saw dust,
us it is the least dusty and has a pur-
gent, healthy smell. But any light'
Black walnut sawdust |
will not sell, and is burned. 3 |
——Sunday ball playing has been |
stopped in Toledo, Ohio. For many ,
years the ball game has been a regular |
Sunday amusement there. The move |
is a commendable one, and the ball club |
_ernor Hastings hasa problem in arith- | will be all the more successful on ac-| I ’
"metic to solve in subtraciics from the count of the abandonment of the Sun- claim. Herr Meyerstein used to give
day game. /
In the Garden of China.
BY JULIAN RALPH.
There are many Chinas, or many
kinds of China, but the only one I ex-
pected to find was the ome I did not
see. It was an idezl I had been form-
ing all along the years between my
first geography and my latest pur-
chased book—of a country peopled by
| men wearing broad-brimmed, cone-
shaped hats, and carrying boxes of tea
on each end of the bamboo poles they
balanced on one shoulder. That sort
of man I saw once or twice among the
millions I met, but the whole combi-
nation I missed altogether. My Chi-
na has its gentry, its merchants, its
working-men, and its farmers—not to
speak of beggars, actors, priests, con-
jurers and sailors. We found its mer-
chant class polite, patient, extremely
shrewd, well-dressed, pattern shop-
keepers. We found its gentlemen
graceful, polished, generous and amia-
ble. But the peasantry constantly re-
minded us of the country tolk of conti-
ental Europe outside of Russia/
Theirs was the same simplicity of cos-
tume, intelligence and manners.
They lived in very much the same lit-
tle villages of thatched cottages.
Theirs was the same awkwardness,
shyness, cunning in trade, the same |
distrust of strange things, The sharp-
est fracture of the comparison was seen
in the €hinese farms; for, where we
were, every handful of earth was al-
most Ii ly passed through the
hands of its cultivators, every leaf was
inspeéted, every inch was watered,
manured, watched, and cared for as a
retired Englishman looks after his
back gard The result was a fertili-
ty beyond compare, a glory of vegeta-
tion, a universality of cultivation that
permitted no waste places. It was a
system that always included the prepa-
ration of a second growth to be trans-
planted into the place of the main
growth when the first reached its har-
vest. As compared with Japan, one
feature of every view was strikingly in
favor of the larger country. The dress
and behavior ot the Chinese will not
offend Europeans. The women of
central China are not merely most
modest, they are as completely dressed
as any women I have ever seen.
They are covered from neck tc heels
in a costume composed of a jacket and
trousers. As Mr. Weldon eays:
“Their complete freedom of move-
ment is calculated to produce the
most perfect nation, physically. Itis
God's providence that this menace to
the safety of the world is offset bv
their innutritious food and their fond-
ness for the crippling of women’s feet.”
In Japan nakedness is’ what startles
the newcomer on all gides. In China
“the altogether” that Trilby posed for
is a product that I saw only in the
cases of less than half a dozen children.
I am told that in the country one sees
women half bared above the waist
when the sun shines ‘tropically, bat I
cannot prove that. I saw one farmer
girl with only her padlike frontlet of
cotton on above her trousers, but I
cannot announce a national custom up-
on that slender basis. <n the other
hand, I saw the women at every spot!
of labor, squatted down apon the riv-
er’s edge, climbing like boye, wrestling
frollicking, rowing boats with their
feet, wading streams, yet never having
occasion to regard that jealons mod-
esty which 1s safeguarded in their
dress and in their souls from intancy
onward. I never—except in two in-
stances among thousands—raised my
eves to have them meet those of a
woman that she did not cast hers
down, or turn and run indoors as fast
as her ‘‘golden lilies”"—goat’s feet,
Weldon calls them—would carry her.
Even in the night resoris of the gentle-
men, where the bejewelled sing-song
girls ply their service of song and at-
tendance during the formal dinners of
men of means, I never saw the sug-
gettion of improper behavior on the
men’s or the women’s parts. To be
sure, these women made bold to rub
their hands softly against my hair
(where I keep what I have inthe back)
to see how our shorn hair feels. And.
they fingered my collar and cuffs, and
they gently touched my plainlike shirt
front; and giggled just as little child-
ren do under similar circumstances at
home. So like little children were
they that I could not bear to think
them different in any respect—there in
that garden where baby girls only
fetched a dollar in the market, until
the price rose recently, in Shanghai,
because of the employment of girlsin
the silk-filature factories. Boys sre:
very different, of course. Just as I
was leaving China an old man who
wanted to adopt a son picked out a
likely shaver of four years old and set
i “hackmen,”
is heart on having him. The fool of | cording to the statistics women wood
mother did not see taat the true choppers number thirty-two, lumber-
pricg the old man offered was a com- | man and raftsmen, 28 stock raisers,
Women Who Work.
They Have Entered Every Field Known to Men
Except Two.—Army and Navy Unmolested.—
One Woman Pilot and Forty-Two Plumbers.
The Census Bureau report on occupa-
tions which has just been published,
gives much information as to the in-
creasing tendency of women to earn
their own living and to invade almost
every field of labor in doing so. The
bureau gives a list of 211 occupations,
and women figure in all of them with
two exceptions. There are no women
soldiers or sailors.
The total number of women 10 years
old or over engaged in gainful toil in
1890 was nearly 4.000,000. While the
number of working males was 27 per
cent. greater in 1890 than in 1880, that
of women who worked increased 49 per
cent. The ten years in question were
years of general prosperity. There was
work at fair wages for all the men who
wanted to work. It is evident the wo-
| men wished to share in that prosperity
also and to earn a living for themselves
and not to be dependents.
*
*
As might be expected, domestic ser-
vice is the chief occupation of women.
Five years ago over 700.000 were em-
ploved thus. The number was much
larger ih 1830 than in 1880, not
merely on account of the increase
in the number of families, but in-
comes were larger and more people
could afford to hire servants. Hard
times, on the other hand, lessen decidely
tne number of those thus employed.
Next in importance come ‘‘farmers,
planters, and agricultural laborers.”
Only a few of these, however, actually
work for wages. Most of them own or
have an interest in farms.
* *
What are called the manufacturing
and mechanical industries give work to
more than a million: women. There
were 288,000 dressmakers,. 145,000.
‘seamstresses, and 60,000 milliners. The
Census Bureau does not report what the
total amount cf the bills rendered by
these persons was for the census year.
It is the impressien of the heads of fam-
ilies who pay dressmakers’ and milli-
ner’s bills that thesum is colossal, and
the profits of those engaged in those in-
dustries must be excessive. There were
also 93,000 operatives in cotton mills,
and 63 tailoresses. Great number of
women were employed also in woolen
and silk mills, in tobacco factories, shoe
shops, bookbinderies, etc.
No one will be surprised to learn that
in 1890 there were 245,230 female teach-
ers. They have driven the men out of
this field of labor and monopolize it as
thorougly as they do that of keeping
boarding houses. But it will be a cause
of surprise to learn that 228,300 women
are engaged in “trade and transporta-
tion.” Of these, however, 58,000 are
saleswomen, 27,700 bookkeepers, and
21,000 are stenographers and typewrit-
ers. A shorthand writer in a railroad
office cannot be said to be engaged ac-
tively in ‘‘transportation.” but it ap-
pears that in 1890 there were four wo-
men who were locomotive engineers and
firemen, 237 who drove hacks, drays
and teams, twenty-nine who were sail-
ors, and one who was a pilot. There were
8400 telegraph and telephone operators.
Other women worked as commercial
travelers, agents and collectors, peddlers,
linemen and electric light employees,
and livery stable keepers.
* *
*
There were in 1890, 3900 “women ac-
tresses, 10.800 artists and teachers of art,
34,500 musicians and teachers of music,
4500 physicians and surgeons, and 1200
clergymen. Women figured also
among the lawyers, the dentists, veteri-
nary eurgeons, barbers and theatrical
managers.
There are nine women whitewashers,
three roofers and slaters, gix steam boil-
ermakers, three ship and boat builders,
nine distillers and rectifiers, eleven fer-
tilizer makers, and four tinsmith’s three
plumber’s eight painter's €hd twelve
machinist’s apprentices. There are fifty-
nine women blacksmiths, and among
blacksmith’s apprentices are three wom-
en. There are nine carpenters and
joiners and two carriage and wagon
makers who are women.
Brewers and malsters number
among them seventy-two women; fifteen
women are charcoal, coke and lime
burners, and 129 women are butchers ;
208 women are fish curers and packers.
There are 6286 women compositors and
396 women who make tallow, soap and
candles. There are 418 women engaged
even in making powder and cartridges ;
twenty-three women are plasterers, and
forty-two are plumbers.
*
*
Under the head of watchmen, police-
men and detectives there are 283 women;
thirty women are sextons and eighty-
three are undertakers. The hunters,
trappers, guides and scouts claim twen-
ty-one women, and thirty-six women
are employed on boats, canal or others,
while 237 women are called ¢‘draymen,”’
teamsters, etc. Ac-
fortable home and the heirdom to his | herders and drovers 687, coal miners
property. She only saw how much ; 218, and other miners 1383. There are
the old man wanted her boy.
would not sei! him for lesz than eighty
dollars. Therefore the pradent old fel-
low was obliged to stifle his budding
affection and look for a cheaper child.
He got a chubby little urchin for sixty
dollars, which was his limit— Harper's
Magazine for July.
'
|
}
|
|
t
!
She | thirty women working in quarries, and
263 women are in the fish or oyster busi-
nges. As farmers, planters and over-
seérs they number 226,427, and as agri-
cultural laborers 447,085. The men in
the last two occupations number, re-
spectively, over 5,000,000 and 2,000.000.
As florists, etc., there are 9415 women.
* *
*
New York State has the largest num-
——Denmark’s police, when they find ber of female servants—179,000—while
a drunken man in the streets, summon a | Pennsylvania comes next with 119,742.
cab, place him inside, and drive to the | South Carolina has the greatest number
police station, where he is detained until | of women agricultural laborers—78,315
sober. Then he is driven home, the
police never leaving him until he is safe
’
i
in his family. The cabman then makes
his charge, the police surgeon his, the !
constables theirs, and thi: bill is pre-
sented to the proprietor of the establish- |
ment where the culprit tock his last and |
overpowering glass. This
enness which formerly prevailed in Cop-
enhagen.
{
system is |
tending to reduce the appalling drunk-; ] y
2 ro reduce Ppa. ng ‘ to complain of modern industrial condi-
——Official Receiver (at a meeting
of creditors )—What bgre you come
here for ?
Professional Beggar—To put in my
me twopence every week.
—and Mississippi the greatest number
of women farmers, planters and over-
seers—16.074.
These statistics show that there is no
field of labor which men may call ex-
clusively their own. And yet half a
century ago there were hardly a score of
ways in which 8 woman cculd earn a
living. They at least bave no reason
old times.”
* * *
A dainty set for a jacket guit is com-
posed of vest, collar and cuffs of fine
embroidered muslin, trimmed with rows
of narrow butter-color valenciennes.
These come in all the finest shades,
pink, blue, white or ecru.
tions and sigh for a return to the ‘‘good