Diewornaiic Wacpnan,
Bellefonte, Pa., Jan. 6, 1899.
IT CANNOT BE.
It cannot be that he who made
This wondrous world for our delight,
Designed that all its charms should fade
And pass forever from our sight,
That all should wither and decay,
And know on earth no life but this,
With only one finite survey
Of all its beauty and its oliss.
It cannot be that all the years
Of toil and care and grief we live
Shall find no recompense but tears,
No sweet return that earth can give.
That all that leads us to aspire
And struggle onward to achieve,
With every unattained desire
Was given only to deceive.
It cannot be that after all
The mighty conquests of the mind
Our thoughts shall pass beyond recall
And leave no record here behind.
That all our dreams of love and fame,
And hopes that time has swept away,
All that enthralled this mortal frame
Shall not return some other day.
It cannot be that all the ties
Of kindred souls and loving hearts
Are broken when the body dies
And the immortal mind departs,
That no serener light shall break
At last upon our mortal eyes
"To guide us as our footsteps make
The pilgrimage to paradise.
— David Banks Sickels,
A FRONTIER CINDERELLA.
But He Managed in Spite of Narrow Lines to Make
Christmas Come His Way.
It must not be forgotten that before
Cinderella attracted the attention of the
prince and brought confusion upon the
cheeks of her more pretentious sisters she
was the kitchen artist, and that her name
came from the ash box. This much by way
of explanation.
Years ago, when the Territories were
more unused to the ways of civilization
than they are to-day, the flotsam of the
human drift tossed up on the tide a vagrant
printer. He landed in a frontier town,
and he found employment on one of the
newspapers that flourished in the camp.
He differed little from the rest of the craft
at the time he landed. But he settled
down in the Territory and he stayed there.
He took root. He went to seed. He came
pretty near forgetting that he had one day
been a fragment of a wreck from ecivili-
zation, and the stranger who came in on the
newer reliefs looked at the queer spectacle
and marveled.
They called him Cinderella, which name
was immediately abbreviated to ‘‘Cindy,”’
as being plenty big enough and just as ex-
pressive, at any rate. ‘‘Cindy’’ had stayed
around so long that he was the senior com-
positor in the office by many a year, for
pew men did not stay iong in one place
down in the Territories in those days.
They followed the mining excitements, and
flitted over the continental divide one after
another. ‘‘/Cindy’’ kept his nose in the
space box, and grubbed away day after
day, six days of every week. He was never
known to lay off a day to give work to a
‘sub’? and he was as tight with his money
as a bank vault. He allowed nothing to
dribble away. A more picturesque mem-
ber of the craft never stood beneath the
coal oil lamps of the sage brush country,
that land of picturesque men.
“Cindy’’ had a room in a ‘‘dobe’’ shack
over in the Mexican quarter of the town,
and he maintained bachelor apartments
there that were a terror to all traditions of
comfort and order. To save expenses he
was his own chambermaid and housekeep-
er, and he never wasted any time on the
work. He gave the barber the merry
laugh, for both his beard and his hair fell
in corkscrew ringlets wherever a stray
wisp of hair found a place to fall. His
faded, old white hat had long ago lost its
shape, and it stood on his head like a cone
that the boys on the dunce block wore in
the early days of school life in the Re-
public. He was not an old man in years,
but he was a patriarch in appearance. He
wore spectacles, and as they had sustained
a fracture, ‘‘Cindy’’ had repaired the dam-
age with a piece of green flannel, and that
gave a peculiar air to his appearance. He
wore heavy cowhide boots, and as the dry
air and absence of rain never made the sage
brush country muddy, they needed no at-
tention. Hence they had assumed a fash-
ionable tan color years before tan shoes
became the fad in the States. Because it
was cold when I knew him, “Cindy” wore
two pairs of trousers- That the outside
pair was about three inches shorter than
the pair beneath, which stuck out quite
coquettishly at the bottoms, was of no con-
sequence. He affected two pairs to keep
him warm, and they kept him warm. Had
he been wearing his clothes for: looks he
probably would not have had recourse to
the style which became popular with dudes
when the short overcoat and long cutaway
later made more fashionable men look like
refugees from a home for feeble minded.
Some persons would have mistaken
“Cindy”’ for a farmer. Perhaps the diag-
nosis would have been goed in a country
where they have farms. But down in the
Territories they have nothing but ranges
and ranches, and the ranchmen or the
society bud from the cattle ranges affected
an entirely different style of dress. The
farmer in the Territory doted more upon a
chiffon of five shooters and a corsage of raw
hide than he did on jean trousers and a
knit wamus. ‘“‘Cindy’s’’ garb was proof
enough that he was not addicted to agri-
cultural pursuits in the home of his
adoption. He did not even wear a spur or
maintain a leather fringe down the seam of
his pantaloons where the first lieutenant
wears a white stripe. Neither did “‘Cindy’’
drink pulque with the stars from the Seven-
Bar ranch, nor play monte at Conoway’s
with the soldiers, nor go to the hailie
dances, nor in any way prove up on any
other claim to belong to the noble profes-
sion of husbandry. He was a printer, pure
and simple, and as rnde and crude as he
looked he was an uncommon good one.
He had the ‘‘ad’’ cases, which is one proof
of genius, for the man who sets advertise-
ments must be a professional. He was
reliable and he was well read and well
posted. He was an expert in his calling,
and aside from the fact that he was a most
startling production in’ his economical
make-up, “Cindy” was not a bad sort of a
man to have around the place. But he vas
a terror to the tramp printer who had just
climbed nto town, and who longed for a
shors bit ©. pay his compliments to Rilly’s
Snug, for I: never gave down anything.
“Cindy” wis as saving ws 4 judgment
note at comj==:n interest, and many was
the joke that the tenderfoot got off at his
expense. But he let them all pass without
remark.
comer wanted to know why the Mexican
had the best job in the shop when he would
never give a cent of his $25 a week to help
a fellow in tough lock, ‘‘Cindy’’ paid no
attention. He pounded away in his space
box, and raked in his dollars. Every Sat-
urday he marched up to Catron’s bank at
the regular hour, and came out with his
little book snugly tucked inside his pocket. |
This thing went on in this way until one
day the foreman told a story that set
“Cindy” to rights, and made of him a hero.
He had always held the respect of the fore-
man and of the editor, and the foreman,
who had known him in the States, said he
was all right.
For back in God’s country, as the ex-
patriated down in the Territories love to
call it, **Cindy’’ had a father and mother.
They lived on the farm, and while it was
not the best farm in the world, they had
spent their lives trying to make it better
than it was, and in paying for it and rear-
ing their family. *Cindy’’ had not always
been the best boy in the world, but when
he landed down in the Territory, the place
of all the rest in the world where a man
who has the desire can go to perdition
quicker and with more facilities for his ex-
peditious trip than any other place,
“Cindy” pulled himself together. He |
steadied up, saved his money, led a life |
that could not be criticised, and sent his
checks from time to time home to the bank-
er in the village back across the plains.
The banker bought a uit of ground right
across the road from where ‘‘Cindy’s par-
ents lived, and announced that he would
make himself a home. He began to build |
a house in course of time, fixed it up, added |
a barn, purchased some good stock, and
after he had spent what must have been a
comfortable bit of money, and exhausted
considerable time in getting the thing in
shape, what did he do one December day
but send to grotesque old Cinderella down
in the bad lands a deed for the whole busi-
ness. “‘Cindy,’’ in turn, sent the whole
thing back to his old mother, and as the
place made a right convenient addition to
the paternal acres, and as he sent it just
about the holiday time, and as he, for the
first time in years, puton a ‘‘sub’’ and took
a few days of a holiday, it soaked into the
heads of the egotistical idiots about the
office that if there was a man in the outfit
that was worth as much as a dead maverick
after the coyotes had stayed up all night
with it, it was old ““Cindy.”” But he did
not tell his story. The foreman gave it
down one afternoon when he had been over
to the lockup bailing out a couple of print-
ers that they might sober up in time to get
the paper out. He prefaced it by telling us
how much better it would be if he had more
men like “Cindy’’ with two grains of sense
to keep company in their heads than such
a lot of cheap cattle as he had to rely on.
From which it is seen that if a man has two
pairs of trousers and chooses to wear both
at the same time that he may still have
other good traits.
“Cindy” for years had been pegging
away, a real hero, and he was hero enough
to make no fuss when the rattleheaded
scum around him could not understand his
righteous motive.—Bion H. Butler, in
Pittsburg Times.
Father of the Senate Dead.
Senator Morrill Dies From the Effect of Grip. A Re-
markable Career. His Combined, Period of Serv-
ice In the Senate and House Was Almost Forty-
four Years. The Senior Senator.
Justin S. Morrill who represented Ver-
mont in Congress for twelve years and the
United States Senate thirty-two years died
at his home in Washington on Tuesday, the
27th, of grip, complicated with lung and
heart trouble. The Senator was 83 years
of age and until his last illness was re-
markably well and strong.
The senator has been some years the
patriarch of the Senate, and has held a
warm place in the affections of his associ-
ates. He likewise has enjoyed the fullest
confidence of his constituents. who, not-
withstanding his years, re-elected him in
1896 for a sixth consecutive term, which
will not expire until March 3rd, 1903. It
has been his annual custom for several
years to make one formal address on some
topic of live interest to the Senate and this
has been listened to with attention by his
colleagues, who regarded these speeches as
remarkable in view of the age of their au-
thor. The last address was delivered a
week or more before the Christmas day ad-
journment, the subject being the need of a
building for the United States supreme
court and other courts. Its deliverance
showed few signs of lessened vitality and
at its conclusion the honor was done the
senator of a unanimous passage of the re-
solution on which he spoke.
Senator Morrill, was born at Stafford,
Vt., his present place of residence, on Apuil
14th. 1810. He received a superior educa-
tion, but in early life preferred a mercan-
tile to a professional career, and went into
business. Later he wasa farmer. He was
a member of the House of Representatives
at Washington in six Congresses, beginning
with the Thirty-fourth. Since March 4th,
1867, he has been a United States senator.
His wife died last May and her body was
interred at Washington waiting the com-
pletion of a mausoleum at Brattleboro, Vt..
which is now finished and in which they
will both be laid shortly.
The People Will be Glad Enough to Haul
it Down Ere Long.
From the Doylestown Democrat.
In the course of his speech at the Atlanta
Peace Jubilee the President is quoted as
saying:
“That flag has been planted in two hem-
ispheres, and there it remains—the symbol
of liberty and law, ‘of peace and progress.
Who will withdraw it from the people over
whom it floats in protecting folds? Who
will haul it down?”
If this be true, the President lays him-
self open to criticism. We dislike to see
the man occupying that high office placing
himselt in the ranks of the Jingoes. ‘‘Who
will haul it down—the flag he means? We
should do it ourselves, if it is not good
policy to keep it there. We have ‘‘hauled
it down’’ from mauy places where Ameri-
can valor placed it, and the act was not
considered discreditable, The President’s
expression is a measure of buncomb that
does him no credit.
|
Beware of the Grip.
It is raging in New York and Philadel-
phia and the physicians there have decided
it is both infectious and contagious a well-
known physician, says ‘‘Keep warm, dry
and clean, isa good rule to observe. Above
all, people should give in tothe disease
and not insist on fighting it off. With the
first chill, it is well to remain indoors and
avoid draughts and exposure. If the case
grows worse, a physician should be called
in without hesitation. Convalescents
should remain indoors until all danger is
past. Grip leaves the system in a weak-
ened condition, and it is easy for grip suf-
ferers to contract pneumonia, bronchitis
Even when a brash young new- |
and kindred diseases. Grip is not a dan-
| American
World's Largest Farm.
In Nerthwestern Canada and Contains 100 Square
Miles.— Provided for the Younger Sons.—Owned by
an English Syndicate and 45,000 Acres Under
Cultivation—A Land of Immense Farms. Land
Very Cheap.—Some Popular Errors.
It is a fact not generally known to the
public, though well understood to the
grain trade of the northwest, that in the
new and far Canadian northwest, in a prov-
ince whose very name is a synonym for
desolation, in Assiniboa, 1,000 miles to the
north and west from the head of Lake Su-
perior, are situated some of the largest and
most successful wheat farms in the world.
One of them, the Bell farm, is without
much doubt the largest connected block of
land devoted to the raising of wheat to be
found on the globe. This farm is owned
by a syndicate of Eungiishmen, who have
made it a sort of staking-out ground for
their younger sons, in so far as they have
been able, and have subsequently won-
dered why their profits were no greater,
though the yield of grain was so large, for-
getting that these same younger sons had
to be provided for and that salary lists
mounted up.
It isnamed after Major Bell, the military
manager of the estate, and has an area of
ten miles square, or 100 square miles, of
which 45,000 acres, or about three-quarters
is under cultivation. There is also the
Brassey farm, owned by Lord Brassey,
Governor of Australia, and the Sunbeam,
owned by the Scottish-American syndicate,
besides many others of less importance,
and a stock farm of the Bell corporation
nearly as large as its wheat acreage. These
farms are in a country which a few years
ago was the last stalking ground of the
buffalo, and where the relics of buffaloes
and of Indian battles are thick on the
ground. A few miles southerly from Re-
gina is an alkali plain, sixty miles across,
that is covered with bones of buffaloes and
Indians, the latter from the results of the
last fierce battle of the Crows and Blaek-
feet, not many years ago. All through
this country piles of buffalo bones, some of
them 500 to 1,000 feet long, and perhaps
100 feet wide, and as high as a man could
reach, have been gathered together and
shipped east to fertilizing works.
In this district, where for hundreds of
miles the train passes no houses nor tilled
soil, where there are millions and millions
of acres apparently as good as those that
are yielding thirty to forty bushels of
wheat the acre, where these lands can be
bought for from $2 to $3 an acre, with the
best of railway facilities, the Bell farm peo-
ple have been able to sell thousands of
acres this summer at $8 to $10 an acre, and
in one case the purchaser was subsequently
enabled to turn his purchase of 640 acres at
$25 an acre to an incoming farmer. This lat-
ter price, though it seems very high, when
the vast stretches of arable and unoccupied
land all around are considered, is not so
high but that it permits good interest on
the investment, year after year, by wheat
farming.
The problems of farming in these great
plains that stretch northwesterly 2,500
miles from the head of Lake Superior into
a latitude that further east is a region of
cold so intense that scarcely any vegetation
will grow, have been long in solution, and
have ruined many a man who has strug-
gled against them. The soil is, generally
speaking, a heavy, black loam, and the
rainfall is very little, sometimes amount-
ing to but a few light showers during an
entire summer. It has been found neces-
sary to so handle this soil as to preserve
the moisture and to keep all the water, that
comes from the melting snows of ty
cold winters, and to do this a new method
of soil culture has been inaugurated. Fall
plowing, so common and so much desired
in the Dakotas and Western Minnesota, is
said to be worse than no plowing at all,
and nothing is done to lands in crop after
the harvesting. A third of the land under
cultivation is allowed to lie fallow all the
time, so that but two-thirds is in crop in
any one season. By such farming methods
northwestern farmers are able to raise crops
of from thirty to forty bushels of hard
Scotch fife wheat to the acre. The average
yield in the Red River valley of the Dako-
tas and Minnesota is about fourteen to fif-
teen bushels, and the average through-
out the United States is not far
from eleven bushels. Conditions as to
soil, and sometimes as to moisture, are the
same in the Red River valley as they are
in the Saskatchewan valley of Assiniboia,
but the farmers of Dakota and Western
Minnesota would consider it suicidal to fol-
low any such methods as these; in fact
they are not adopted anywhere else.
Such a farm as the Bell, with 45,000 to
50,000 acres under cultivation, and two-
thirds of this immense land in crop every
year, yielding at the rate of thirty bushels
to the acre, gives a crop of from 750,000
to 900,000 bushels of grain. But this crop
is nearly 1,000 miles from navigation on
Lake Superior, where the wheat of the
Canadian lands comes in direct competition
for the export and eastern markets with
that of the northwestern prairies of the
United States, the one yield at Fort Wil-
liam, the lake terminus of the Canadian
Pacific, the other at Duluth, the lake ter-
minus of the Northern Pacific and the
Great Northern. It costs 15 to 16 cents a
bushel to get this Canadian wheat on ship
at Fort William, for the 1,000 mile haul.
It costs 8 to 10 cents to get the wheat of
the Dakota farmer from his fields to Du-
luth, 250 to 350 miles. The Canadian Pa-
cific is engaged in developing the country
through which it runs, and it is willing to
bear a larger share of the burden than its
American competitors. But last fall a
strange condition prevailed and is yet
continuing. Wheat is worth within 6 to 7
cents as much on these farms, 1,000 miles
beyond the jumping off place, as it isin
Duluth, where buyers for the world’s food
are congregated. These far off farmers are
now getting actually more money for their
grain than are those of the famed Red val-
ley, 250 miles from one of the chief mar-
kets of the world. The demand from
mills in Western Canada, those of the Ogil-
vies and others, and their success in selling
flour in both Europe and the antipodes,
has had much to do with this condition.
In these hyperborean regions, along the
fifty-first parallel, the cold is not far differ-
ent from that of the prairies to the south of
line. The thermometer some-
| times gets to 40 and 50 degrees below zero,
but it does not stay there, and this cold is
not felt more than the 20 to 30 sometimes
enjoyed in Minnesota. Cattle do not run
out free all winter, but horses do, and come
out in the spring fat and hardy, having fed
through the cold months on the dried grass-
es of the prairie that they have been able
to reach by pawing off the snow. These
grasses seem to have no nourishment as
they stand dried and wiry over the surface,
but they have been the native food for the
buffaloes for countless years. Two hun-
dred and fifty miles further north, away up
on the Upper Saskatchewan, the prairies
ave settled exclusively by cattlemen, who
have their ranches covering thousands of
square miles. They are the only inhabitants,
gerous disease in itself.
as it is their wish to be, for these cattle-
men are unsociable fellows 1n their busi-
ness life and do not care for the close com-
panionzhip of farmers and townsmen.
These cattle that graze in the province of
Saskatchewan are driven to the Canadian
Pacific at its terminus at Prince Albert,
or to its main line, near Regina, or they
are trailed east 300 or 400 miles over prai-
ries, whose only paths are these made by
the wild cattle of years ago, and kept clear
now hy these cattlemen and their drives to
the terminus of the Manitoba and North-
western road, at York, at the foot of the
great Beaver Hills. For years to come the
future of the ranch cattle business of the
northern portion of the American continent
will be in this region, where buffalo grass.
plenty of water, and wooded rivers, room
for millions of head, and no intruding
small farmers to fence off the water holes
and cut the feed offer attractions that the
Montana and Dakota plains are rapidly
losing. The big ranchmen are leaving
these latter districts, and most of them are
going to Texas, but the rational course is
to the north, and that way will be the next
great movement, say those in the business.
The quantity of land open for settlement
in this region cannot be understood by any
one who has not traveled over these prai-
ries day after day, week after week, and
seen their sun set in level prairies and rise
in level prairies morning after morning
without change and still without sameness.
From where the Soo road crosses the inter-
national boundary at Portal, N. D., to its
junction with the Canadian Pacific, and on
the north by the latter’s branch to Prince
Albert, a distance of more than 500 miles
almost directly north, there are scarcely any
inhabitants except along the main line,
chiefly at and near Indian Head and Re-
gina and at points between. Further west
on the branch to Edmonton the same con-
dition prevails. A few miles back from
the railroad almost absolute stillness pre-
vails, and the land is practically tenant-
less. It is the same soil as that which at
Indian Head produces thirty bushels of
wheat to the acre and it can be bought for
a song.
Girl Caught a Footpad.
Treed Him on a Barbed Wire Fence and Handed Him
Over to a Policeman.
For two months Kansas City has been
terrorized by footpads. Hold-ups have been
of almost nightly occurrence, and people
who were not absolutely obliged to be on
the streets after night, all stayed indoors as
a matter of precaution.
The climax came when nine women re-
turning from shopping just after nightfall
to their homes in Independence and Gar-
field avenue were held up and robbed of
their purses and packages. The next
morning the police board met, and imme-
diately afterward an imperative order was
issued by Chief Hayes to his men that the
footpads must be brought in.
“Bring them in dead or alive, but bring
them in,”’ the order read. That was 10
days ago, but, although the night force
was increased and policemen in civilian
clothes were in almost every block, no
footpads were brought in and the holdups
continued.
The first one, however, was brought in
Saturday, not by a stalwart policeman, but
by a woman—DMiss Effie Buck. The foot-
pad, William Smith, is a negro. It all
happened in broad daylight.
About 2 o’clock Saturday afternoon Miss
Buck left the High school to deliver some
packages. At Eleventy and Cherry streets
the packages and her purse were knock-
ed from her band, and, when she turn-
ed, a negro was picking up her purse.
He started to make off with it, and Miss
Buck, with screams and cries for help, ran
after him. She gained on him with every
jump, and finally caught up with him in
an alley.
‘He was the slowest nigger I ever saw,’
she said afterward. But when she was
ready to grasp him, she realized the place
was lonesome and there was no one near,
so she withdrew from the alley and went
back and picked up her packages.
Miss Buck had no intention of pursuing
the man further, but when she saw him
lifting his fat legs laboriously in an attempt
to climb over a barbed wire fence, clutch-
ing the purse in one hand, she accepted
the opportunity, and, dropping her pack-
ages, went forward to the capture. Smith
had one leg over the fence and was careful-
ly putting over the other when he saw the
girl crouched for the spring. He flung the
bundles away, and, jumping safely across
the fence, made a few feeble steps.
Then Miss Buck sprang upon him,
screaming for help. Shecaught him by the
coat collar with both hands and held him
fast. Smith, panting hard for breath,
turned his head around and asked inanin-
jured tone what he had done to be treated
in so brutal a way by a woman. Miss
Buck screamed again, and Special Officer
Tompkins, a negro, ran up.
Smith was pleading pitifully. Tompkins
wanted Miss Buck to let go. She was sus-
picious of his color and wouldn’t. A dozen
women, with shawls on their heads, had
gathered, and at sight of them Miss Buck
let go, giving Smith over to the policeman,
who took him to the station.
Miss Buck secured her purse, which con-
tained something besides a check for $75,
and her packages and went her way.
Income and Expenses.
State Treasurer Beacom Tells of Receipts and Ex-
penditures.
State Treasurer Beacom has submitted to
(Governor Hastings his annual report for
the fiscal year ended November 30, 1898,
with a statement of the estimated receipts
and expenditures for the ensuing year.
The revenues for the year amounted to
$13,325,120.97 and the expenditures $13,-
973,803.46, leaving a balance in the treas-
ury of $4,888,017.53 on November 30, last.
The assets of the sinking fund applicable to
the payment of the debt are $5,789,317.09,
leaving the net debt of the State at $1,025,-
981.93.
Mr. Beacom says the hopes of his prede-
cessor that the state revenues would be
largely increased under the legislation en-
acted by the last legislature and improved
business and financial conditions have not
been realized. The receipts for the fiscal
year were $1,000,000 short of the estimate
of the state fiscal officers. The bill author-
izing the payment of interest on state de-
posits has proven satisfactory and will yield
a revenue of upward of $100,000 annually.
As the direct inheritance tax law is yet
pending in the supreme court and other
revenue laws have either been recently en-
acted or judicially construed. Mr. Beacom
does no think any radical change should
be made in the revenue system of the state
at the present time. He says that if the
legislature will, use wise economy in the
matter of appropriations, the state will,
under its present revenue system, be en-
abled to care for its educational and charit-
able institutions and pay the ordinary ex-
penses of government without serious diffi-
culty. Mr. Beacom estimates the ordin-
ary state revenues for the current year end-
ing November 30, next, at $12,056,500 and
the expenditures at $16,164,168.37.
Prayed in the Courtroom.
The Supplication Didn't Prevent the Jury from
Finding an Adverse Verdict. :
A ten-minute prayer in open court in
Allentown, over a horse case attracted con-
siderable attention not long ago. Robert
F. Thomas had brought suit to recover the
part payment he had madeon a horse. He
bought the animal from Peter German, of
Heidelberg township for $80; paid $50 on
him, and the balance, $30, was to be paid
in sixty days. The horse was guaranteed
sound. Later Thomas returned the horse
and wanted his $50 back, saying the horse
was not as represented; that the animal
“knuckled.” German denied this, and re-
fused to give back the money. Thomas
then brought suit. The case came up be-
fore Judge Albright. Thomas took the
stand, took the oath and before answering
the first question as to where he lived turn-
ed to the learned Judge and asked whether
he could offer prayer. ‘‘Certainly,”’ said
Judge Albright, with a quiet nod, and
while on the witness stand Thomas prayed
aloud.
“0 Lord, Thou who rulest over all, and
art willing that all shall have justice, we
appeal to Thee, in this our trouble, to lend
ear and give Thy presence. Guide us and
all of us to tell the truth to this honorable
court and to this jury; that I bought that
dark bay horse from German for $80; that
German said he was solid and sound; that
I paid $50 on him; that the horse was not
solid and sound as represented, and that
by right and justice this court and jury
should compel German to give me my
money back and receive his hoise back
again, as the horse is now just as I bought
him. O Lord, we hold no grudge against
German and we don’t want him to have
enmity against us; but we want our money
back because we are entitled to it. Thou
hast said that brethren should dwell to-
gether in unity, and it is our desire so to
do, but we can’t do it if German don’t take
his horse back and return my $50. Soften
his heart toward us, forgive our enemies:
give ne a safe deliverance in this trial and
bless this good Democratic judge who has
just been indorsed by the solid Republican
party of Lehigh county.”’
Thomas went on in his prayer for ten
minutes, and at its conclusion the trial
gravely proceeded. The jury patiently
listened to all the evidence. The parties
are farmers near Slatington, but German
deals in horses. The jury brought in a
verdict for the defendant, and apparently
Thomas’s prayer had not been answered
as (he desired, German, the defendant,
having shown that the horse was not
“knuckled,’”” but was big boned and
sound, as represented.
Boston’s Great Station.
Dedication of the Largest Railroad Depot in the
World. It Covers Thirteen Acres.
The new terminal station for the rail-
roads entering Boston on the south, by far
the largest railroad station in the world,
was dedicated last week in the presence of
a number of invited guests, by Mayor
Quincy, of Boston, and President Clark, of
the consolidated roads. The station upon
which work has been going on for two
years, is not yet completed, but it is suffi-
ciently advanced to accommodate passen-
gers and trains of one of the lines.
The station covers about 13 acres, and is
765 feet long and 662 feet wide. The main
building is of granite, and dark buff mot-
tled brick, and faces the square formed by
the intersection of Federal and Summer
streets and Atlantic avenue. Opposite the
end of Federal street, and at the intersec-
tion of Summer street and Atlantic avenue,
is the main entrance and central architec-
tural feature of the station.
It is five stories in height, and is sur-
mounted by a tower with an illuminated
clock. The train shed is 602 feet long and
570 feet wide.
The maximum height is 112 feet. Its
roof is of steel construction in three great
spans, the middle one being of 228 feet,
and each of the side spans of 171 feet.
Thirty-two tracks enter the station, 28 be-
ing on the main floor level and four in a
subway, through which it is intended to
handle all suburban traffic.
The station originally was estimated to
cost $1,000,000, but it is thought as much
as $2,000,000 will be required before it is
completed. The share that Boston bas
assumed in the enterprise for street widen-
ing and other accommodations will be near-
ly $5,000,000. The rest is borne by the
railroads.
Fatally Poisoned.
A Case Which Resembles the Celebrated Dunning
Case in Many Ways.
Mrs. Kate J. Adams, a well-to-do wom-
an, was fatally poisoned last week in her
handsomely furnished apartments in New
York. Her death is connected with a
curious chain of events.
Mrs. Adams was a widow, 50 years of
age. She lived with her son-in-law, Ed-
ward Rogers, an insurance agent. Harry
Cornish, a well-known athlete and phys-
ical director of the Knickerbocker Athletic
club, boarded with the Rogers's. Mrs.
Adams awoke one morning with a bad
headache. Her daughter, Mrs. Rogers,
advised her take some bromo-seltzer. Mrs.
Rogers hunted around but found none of
the required medicine. Finally she remem-
bered that there was some bromo-seltzer in
Mr. Cornish’s room. This she got and
gave her mother, who took a fair sized
dose. Ina few seconds Mrs. Adams was
in great pain and evidently suffering from
the effects of a strong poison. Dr. Hitch-
cock was called in and he tried to counter-
act the effects of the poison, which he de-
clared to be cyanide of potassium. Mr.
Cornish and Dr. Hitchcock both tasted the
poisonous stuff and in a few minutes both
were prostrated by the effects of the slight
quantity they had taken. Dr. Potter was
called in. He revived the two men, but
Mrs. Adams died.
Mr. Cornish states that on Christmas
day he’ received a neat package addressed
to himself containing a sterling silver medi-
cine bottle holder in a Tiffany box, and in
the holder was a bottle marked ‘‘bromo
seltzer.”” The package was anonymously
sent, but Cornish says he thought nothing
of this, as he frequently gets presents in
this way. It was this bottle that Mrs.
Rogers got for her mother, and out of
which Mrs. Adams drank with fatal effect.
Mr. Cornish says he cannot think who
could have had any designs on his life.
Why Didn’t He?
‘This,’ said the police judge the other
morning, ‘‘is one of the most aggravated
cases of assault and battery ever
to my official notice. How could a big,
able-bodied man like you strike a deaf
mute?’
|
brought |
Colonel Bryan's Jap.
Yamachita Came Unbidden, and Now Mr. Bryan
Doesn't Know What to Do With Him.
Speaking figuratively, one of the white
elephants Colonel William J. Bryan, of
Nebraska, is trying to unload himself of is
the enterprising Jap, who recently appear-
ed at the Colonel’s house, in Lincoln, and
annexed himself thereto. Mr. Bryan at
first, if the newspapers are to be believed,
rather enjoved the compliment paid him
by little Yamachera Yamachita. Now,
however, he regrets this enforced expan-
sion of his family circle, and heartily
wishes the lad were once more in the land
of the rising sun. But the boy is well
pleased with his new surroundings and
only looks sadly out of his almond eyes
when the Colonel drops hints that he is
willing to bear the expenses of a journey
to far-away Cathay.
Yamachita is the son of a poor farmer,
and not of noble birth, as was first report-
ed. Yamachita’s desire, even from the
cradle, has been to become a member of
the Japanese Parliament and a laurel-
wreathed leader of his people.
chita’s papa does not possess sufficient
means to give his son an education. This
circumstance sorely distressed the boy,
until one day he read in the local paper
that one William J. Bryan, a mighty man
and of the people, was endeavoring to dis-
pense to the inhabitants of the United
States thoughts on the money question.
Yamachita at once saw a chance to get the
much-coveted education. ‘‘A great man,”
he exclaimed. “I shall go to him; he
shall be my mentor and —my meat.”
So Yamachita packed his bandana, tied
the four corners together, slung his bag-
gage over a stick and set out for the great
Western republic. In due time he reach-
ed Lincoln, sought Colonel Bryan and hail-
ed him as his foster-father. Altogether
surprised at the boy’s action, the valiant
warrior did not think it quite proper to
turn away a half-starved lad, so he took
him into the kitchen and gave him a meal.
Since that time Yamachita has looked upon
the Bryans as his protectors. Mrs. Bryan
has secured his admission to classes in the
University of Nebraska, and he seems to be,
making progress. The Colonel, however,does
not quite enjoy working out all of Yama-
chita’s knotty algebraic problems; and he
is endeavoring to arrive at a satisfactory
solution of a burning question: What
shall be done with Yamachera Yamachita?
His Iiead Is Level on This Question.
From W. T. Stead’s Interview with the Czar of
Russia.
“I look out over the world; I study our
civilization, and I do not find it very good.
I see nations all engaged in seizing, or try-
ing to seize, all territory not yet occupied
by European Powers.
‘“f look at the results.
seem to me to be good.
‘For the native races what does imperial
expansion mean ? Too often opium, alcohol,
and all manner of foul diseases, a great
gulf between the governed and those who
rule, and crushing taxation upon the na-
tives for the blessings of this civilization.
‘‘And for the nations who seize, what
does it mean ? A continual increase of sus-
picion, jealousy and rivalry; the heaping
up of fleetsand armies in order to take part
in a scramble with the world, with the re-
sult that the army and navy are swallow-
ing up more and more millions that should
be used for the welfare of the people and
the advancement of the world.
“On top are afew very rich and comfort-
able. Down below, with an ever-increas-
ing pressure of taxes for armaments, is the
great mass of poor people whose position is
not very good. There isan ever-increasing
multitude of those below with their brood-
ing discontent ripening into Socialism and
developing into all kinds of anarchy.
‘No, I do not find our civilization good.
Why do we make it so? We have at the
present moment arrived at this stage that
we have put all our very best manhood in
the army. So much is this the case that
we cannot mobilize the whole of our troops
in European countries without dislocating
the whole fabric of the social community.
‘War has become so expeusive that no
State can stand the strain of protracted war
without having to look bankruptcy in the
face, and we are so perfecting our modern
weapons of destruction that no army can
go into the field without losing so large a
proportion of its officers that when the war
is over, even if that army be victorious, the
war will have inflicted irreparable loss on
the country. What with disconnection
caused by mobilizing, what with empty ex-
chequer, what with decimated ranks of
leading and governing men, I see nothing
before any nation but a terrible heritage of
revolutionary anarchy.’
They do not
“Bab” is Dead.
Mrs. Isabel Mallon Dies from Pneumonia—She Was a
Well Known Writer—Death Hurried by Grief.
Mrs. Isabel A. Mallon, best known by
her -none-de-plume of Bab and Ruth Ash-
more, died at her home in New York on
Tuesday the 27th. Grief over the death of
her mother, Mrs. Mallon’s inseparablelcom-
panion for so many years, so weakened her
that she was a ready victim to the dread
disease.
As “Bab” and “Ruth Ashmore’ Mrs.
Mallon was known to thousands of readers
in this country. She was one of the pio-
neer newspaper women. She went to New
York 16 years ago, suddenly thrown on her
own resources by the death of her husband,
who possessed considerable wealth, and be-
gan her career as a newspaper correspon-
dent.
She began writing the ‘‘Bab’’ letters in
1888. They made a hit, and there was
much curiosity as to who was their author.
Later she made a reputation under another
none-de-plume, ‘‘Ruth Ashmore.”
Her letters were directed particularly to
young girls. Her ‘‘Side Talks With Girls”
were full of advice brightly presented.
Mrs. Mallon was one of the editors of the
Ladies Home Journal.
Mrs. Mallon’s illness began the very day
of her mother’s death, Oct. 8 last. She
suffered from neurasthenia. A month ago
she was attacked with the grip and this
was followed by pneumonia.
Mrs. Mallon was 36 years old. She was
a member of the old Sloan family of Hart-
ford county, Maryland.
For several years past Mrs. Mallon had
also written under her own name, so she
was well known to three circles of readers
as ‘‘Bab,” ‘‘Ruth Ashmore’’ and Isabel
| Allderdice Mallon.
The American Press Association for some
time syndicated the ‘‘Bab’’ letters.
Diagnosis Under Difficulties.
“What appears to be the matter with
your father ?”’ inquired the doctor, as he
hastily put his clothes on.
“He’s got the plumbago,’’ replied the
“Do you’s m’ane that he could n’ayther | boy. “I think that’s what maw says itis.”
sp’ake nor h'are?”’
“That’s precisely what I mean.”
“Thin, sor, phy the divil didn’t he
say so?’ .
“Pain in the small of the back, I pre-
sume,’’ said the doctor.
“No, sir, he hain’t got no small of the
{ back. My paw weighs 284 pounds.”
But Yama-'