Demorvaic atc Bellefonte, Pa., March 17, 1899. I —————— THE BOYLESS TOWN. Ne wo comer, A cross old woman of long ago Declared that she hated noise; “The town would be so pleasant, you know, If only there were no boys.” She scolded and fretted about it till Her eyes grew heavy as lead, And then, of a sudden, the town grew still, For all the boys had fled. And all through the long and dusty street There wasn’t a boy in view: The base-ball lot where they used to meet Was a sight to make one blue. The grass was growing on every base And the paths that the runners made; For there wasn’t a soul in all the place Who knew how the game was played. The dogs were sleeping the livelong day— Why should they bark or leap? There wasn’t a whistle or call to play, And so they could only sleep. And pony neighed from his lonely stall, And longed for saddle and rein; And even the birds on the garden wall Chirped only a dull refrain. The cherries rotted and went to waste— There was none to climb the trees; And nobody had a single taste, Save only the birds and bees. There wasn’t a messenger boy—not one— To speed as such messenger can; If people wanted their errands done, They sent for a messenger man, There was little, I ween, of frolic and noise, There was less of cheer and mirth; The sad old town, since it lacked its boys, Was the dreariest place on earth. The poor old woman began to weep— Then woke with a sudden scream; “Dear me!’ she cried, “I have been asleep; And, oh! what a horrible dream!” —St. Nicholas. THE TRAMP. He was a real, bona fide tramp. His coat was a marvel of grease and tatters, on one foot he wore a tolerabhly respectable boot, while the toes of the other protruded through a very ragged shoe, and his hat would never have heen recognized for that article of headgear if it had not been for his head. Altogether he might have been the original of the funny papers’ latest edition of Weary Willie. At present he wasresting. This was the chief occupation of his life, his profession, as it were, and after many years of exper- ience he had succeeded in bringing it down to a very fine point, being able to pursue it under the most unfavorable conditions and in circumstances that would have daunted an ordinary mortal. Such is the result of practice! Just now the conditions were extremely favorable, the day being warm and the fence corner grass grown and shady, so the tramp lay upon his back, with one leg thrown over the other and his hat pulled down over his forehead. Over in the field opposite a farmer was plowing up stubble, pausing now and then to wipe his perspiring face, while his blue shirt clung in damp streaks to his skin. The tramp watched him meditatively. ‘‘I wonder why people like to work?’ he soliloquized. ‘‘Queer! They’re al- ways a-doin’ somethin.” Now, I ain’t never done anythin,” and I git along just the same. I bet that chap owns this whole place all round here, but he ain’t havin’ as good a time as I am, and I ain’t got a red cent. I wonder what people want to be workin’ for when they might be takin’ it easy. It’s a funny world. Wisht I had a chaw of terbaccer.”’ By and by the tramp climbed the fence and began to investigate a hay stack stand- ing a short distance from the road. *‘Might’s well fix my bed for to-night,’ he said and squirmed into the heart of the stack. Presently he heard the sound of voices. It was probably the farmer, and * he lay still in his hiding place. ‘Of course 9:30 is a little early for our biz, but that is a through train and bound to be worth more than either of the other two.” ‘But there will be more people on it.” ‘‘What’s the odds? A dozen more or less. Tbey won’t sit heavy on our con- sciences.” ‘It’s a dead easy thing, too. All it takes is grit. We’ll be pretty sure to strike a gold lined pocket or two before they can make out what’s happened. And if any- one turns up beforehand?” ‘‘Shoot him dead. We don’t stand no trifling. You stand at the bottom of the gully; ain’t likely to be a soul walk that track, but if there is crack him dead with- out a word. I’ll take care of my part. I tell you, I’m desperate, and if—Look, there's a man over in that field. Get around on the other side. He didn’t see us. Make a bee line for that hedge. We can’’— The voices died away. The tramp turn- ed over on hisside. ‘“Train wreckers! Well, itain’t no busi- ness of mine,”’ he grunted. Nevertheless the vision of a wrecked train disturbed his nap, and he crawled out of his hole. He sat on the fence and nursed his ragged foot, watching the sun- set. ‘‘It’s a pity for so many people. I guess some of em would he young, too; maybe some little babies; maybe a feller about my age. They’re all a-lookin’ at the sun for the last time if they only knew it.” What kind of a queer feeling was this? He tried to whistle it off, but it only came back the stronger. The frogs’ singing had never disturbed him before, but to-night it sounded weird and sad, and after awhile the very stars came out and looked at him as if they knew something about it. ‘‘What a str. .nge thing it must be to die! Maybe somebody ’ll be waitin’ and waitin’ for some of those people to come home.’ Not in his remotest past could he remem- ber any love, but somehow he understood this waiting. The frogs sang on, the young moon sail- ed slowly down the heavens, and by and by the tramp climbed off the fence and slouched away down the road. Hanging beside a stable door he had seen a lantern when he passed that afternoon,and he crept up, hooked it off the nail and went on his way. He had no definite purpose in view except that he was going toward the gully, and it might be useful. ‘I never did do anything, and I always got along. But it’s a pity to let them all die. Better to have one old feller go. I wonder how it feels to die!” He shuddered a little and seemed to hear the voiceagain, ‘‘Shoot him dead!” He sat down by the roadside and said sullenly: “It ain’t none of my business. I ain’t got nothin’ to do with ‘it. It don’t concern me any.’’ But after awhile be went on again. ‘It must be 9 o’clock now,’’ he said. The night had grown dark and cloudy; only a few stars glittered at intervals through the flying rack. The tramp had reached the head of the gully. It was not very deep, but sufficient to cause a terri- ble disaster. The track sloped around a curve a few yards beyond and just here ran over a narrow bank of earth slanting ab- ruptly down on either side. The tramp lit his lantern, and, taking off his coat, wrapped it carefully around. Then he lay down on the ties, flat on his face, and began to creep slowly along, squirming and crawling like a worm. After a seemingly endless time of creep- ing and feeling carefully with his hands he felt the smooth, cold steel of the track end abruptly. The rail had been removed just at the highest point in the gully. Now he had nothing more to do but waif. And be killed. He wondered how it felt to be shot. A strong desireto get up and run took possession of him, but he might just as well be shot saving the train as now, =o he lay still. > . ‘‘Maybe I won’t be killed. I might git through some way. An old no count like me ’u’d be likely to git through with a whole hide. Anyway, ’twon’t be much lost. If ’twould only come!’ It seemed an hour since he had lain there; then he heard the rumbling and the distant ‘‘whoo—o—whoo—o0—,”’ and in a minute the train rounded the curve. The tramp flung his coat into the gully and spring to his feet, waving the lantern up and down over his head. Five pistol shots rang out sharply above the noise of the train, the lantern tumbled into the gully and the tramp fell forward across the track, the engine coming to a standstill within two feet of his body. Instantly a clamor of voices arose, the engine puffed breathless, lights flashed through the darkness, the ties were ex- amined, the lantern, coat and an empty pistol were rescued from the gully, and the tramp was lifted by a dozen pairs of hands. ‘‘He is dead!”’ they cried. ‘‘Shotdead! Murdered by train wreckers! A young doctor elbowed his way through the crowd. He was of tall, commanding presence, and they fell back before his au- thoritative voice. ‘‘Make way, there!” He knelt down beside the tramp and after a rapid examination said: ‘“The man isn’t even seriously hurt. There is only a flesh wound in the hip. He has fainted from fright.” Even as he spoke the tramp opened his eyes. A young girl sat down and took his shaggy head into her lap, where he moved uneasily from time to time as he told his story. : ‘‘He’s a real hero!” cried the girl. ‘“A brave, noble fellow, God bless him!”’ cried another woman. A man held his brandy flask to the tramp’s lips and another shook his hand heartily. The tramp seemed to hardly understand it all. He blinked at them stupidly, but clung to the brandy flask. They carried him aboard the train and the engine backed slowly toward the town, a mile away, and as the tramp reclined up- on velvet cushions, surrounded hy sym- pathetic faces, for the first time in his life treated as an equal, a man among men, strange, new desires stirred vaguely in his heart. “I ain’t been nothin’ but a no ’count so fur,”’ he thought, ‘‘but I'm mighty glad I could save ’em all, mighty glad.” ‘“We will make up a suitable reward for that brave fellow,’’ said an old gentleman, but the young doctor spoke up suddenly: ‘‘See here! That man is a fake! His story is the thinnest I'ever heard. I say he took up those rails and waved the train in the hope of a reward, shooting himself to give weight to the story. Do you think of five shots aimed straight at a man only one would hit him and inflict a slight flesh wound? And if he feared the wreckers why didn’t he wave the train on the other side of the curve? Any sane man would have done that.” This was an indisputable fact, and the passengers began to comprehend the whole matter. ‘‘He says he heard the two men at 6 o'clock, ’’ the young doctor went on. ‘Why, he could have gone to Fordsville and got a posse to capture them in that time! And he says he took the lantern from a farm house stable. Why, he could have gone in and informed the farmer. Pshaw! The thing couldn’t be plainer. He was after the reward. You will be lucky if you are not sent up for this, old fellow.” The passengers laughed or were angry, according to their various temperaments, while the tramp tried to understand the meaning of the change in their manner, but could not exactly comprehend. Hadn’t he saved the train? They took him to the hospital at Fords- ville, and later on the men whom they had left behind came in to report that they could not find the slightest trace of the wreckers or any evidence to prove the truth of the tramp’s preposterous story. In the morning the young doctor called at the hospital and the nurse who received him said: “The man is dead. He died during the night of heart disease, from the fright, I suppose ?’ She showed him the bed, and they both stood looking down on the still form lying there. ‘‘Well, he’s gone to his reward,” said the doctor jocularly.—From the Chicago Daily News. For a Fainting Fit. The patient should be laid full length on the floor, face upward, without pillow or prop for the head, all fastenings, buttons and bands about the neck, chest, waist and legs loosened, the free ingress of pure, cold air insured by open windows and doors. If in a few minutes consciousness does not return, a few drops of cold water may be dropped over the face from the fingers held high above it, ‘‘smelling salts,’”’ aromatic vinegar, etc., passed to and fro under the nose, and the face, neck, chest, arms and backs of the hands sharply flipped with the wet corner of a towel. Hard Luck. “Well, how are you getting along with that fund you began saving some time ago for your trip to the Paris exposi- tion?’’ “I’ve had bad luck with it. I had $1.40 laid away, but my wife happened to find it one day just before a man with a newly patented egg beater came around.’’ ——Ex-Governor R. P. Flower, of New York, is a hard worker and a man of regu- lar hours. He is at his desk in Wall street every morning at 8, allows himself just 15 minutes for a light lunch at noon, and does not consider the working day at an end until 6p. m. nn ——————————— ——*‘‘Madam,”’ said the smooth spoken tramp, ‘‘I am not an ordinary hobo! *‘Oh, I don’t know,” said the lynxeyed housekeeper, as she leisurely took down her husband’s gun from the wall ‘‘you’re about the same as the rest of ’em.” You can work, but you won’t. Git.” And he gat. The Samoan Situation. What May Yet Come Out of the Present Difficul- ties.—Some Facts About the People—The Condi- tions Existing in the Islands are Favorable to the Development of the Highest Civilization.— The English Lanquage in Favor. The eyes of the world are turned upon Samoa, the beautiful isles of the Southern Pacific and their triple government, by the representatives of England, Germany and the United States. Since long ago, Ger- many, it is commonly reported, has cher- ished a desire to acquire a control of these islands as a colony of the empire, but the treaty made at ‘the Berlin conference of 1889 by Germany, Great Britain and America by which neutrality was guaran- teed to the islands and rights of citizens to the natives in equal respect to trade, resi- dence and protection, was generally sup- posed to have quenched her ardor in at- tempting to gain the coveted control. Re- cent reports from the islands, however, in- dicate that the treaty has been violated and the right which it recognizes for the natives to elect their own chief or king was repudiated by Germany’s refusal, in per- son of her representative, to consent to their recent selection of Malietoa Tanus as king. At home the German empire is tak- ing an amicable attitude and showing her- self superior to allowing the Samoan mat- ter to interfere with more important inter- ests. “It would be a crime, to turn the Sa- moans over to the egotistical brutal Ger- man militarism.’” Mr. Ireland has just re- turned from a delightful peep at the isl- ands in question, and sings praises of their beauty and fair climate, and their merry and comely inhabitants, and, in view of the present interest in the islands, his views are particularly interesting. ‘‘Rob- ert Louis Stevenson,’’ he continued, ‘was wise in speaking of Samoa as the ‘Paradise of the South Seas,” and in selecting it for his home. In my journey over the world I saw no place that pleased me so much. *‘The approach to it is full of beauty. A coral reef, dashed with surf, projects a long way out into the harbor, and, back of Apia, the harbor town, rises gradually a chain of hills which develop into a monnt- ain, 800 feet in height. The climate is one of the finest and most healthful in the Southern Pacific. It is impossible to hurry or worry there, even if one receives the news of the death of a friend, he might think he ought to go to the funeral some time, but not immediately. It is impossi- ble to worry and it is impossible to be en- ergetic. One can’t do anything. The na- tive character shows the influence of this languor of the climate. The people can- not be induced to work. The lad I en- gaged as a ‘boy,’ the Oriental name for all body servants, was asked whether he was a Christian. ‘No,’ he said; ‘if I would go to the Christians they would make me work, so I stay away.” The same boy, when we gave him a basket of fruit to car- ry for us nto the interior to distribute to the tribes we visited, insisted upon resting every fifteen minutes and after each of his numerous intermittent recuperations could scarcely be induced to move on. ‘At another time, when he performed the same office for us, we found at our journey’s end that our fruit had all disap- peared. When we asked him about it, he replied with the greatest irresponsibility, ‘I gave them all to the ladies we passed. Couldn’t help that.” He had made a pres- ent of some of our fruit to every native woman we had met. No amount of money is of any value to these people and cannot be used as a bribe to set them to work. All the work of the islands is left to the cannibals, the Maori, a dark-skinned, thickly-built race, who share the islands with the native Samoans. ‘The Samoans, by the way, are not can- nibals and never were. They never slew their friends or foes for the purpose of feed- ing on their bodies, but they would, in the case of a man they hated, roast the corpse and eat of it in small bits, which were afterward ejected from the mouth. ‘Another striking characteristic of the Samoan is their great good nature. They are as merry and pleasant as children. The mirth and charm of the Japanese Gei- sha girl cannot, be compared to the fascina- tions of the laughing Samoan maiden. She is always merry, she laughs all the time, and over everything. She has exceptional beauty, too, a very fair skin of an olive hue, lighter than the Spanish complexion, and much finer color in her cheeks. Her hair is genuine Mrs. Potter red. This comes from dyeing. All the Samoans dye their hair—men and women. They take a lime made from burnt coral and apply it to their hair with the result that they have for months a perfectly white head. After that it is transformed into the really beau- tiful shade of auburn for which they were aiming. ‘‘Another personal decoration which is fancied by both men and women is tattoo- ing. The men especially tattoo themselves gorgeously from the knees to the waist. There is nothing gaudy about the designs. They are in dull blues and reds, like the dull colors of oriental draperies. The women tattoo only around the wrist in the form of a bracelet. “They are innocent, uncorrupted, child- like people with irritable, not savage tem- pers, heing easily appeased. They are quiet and kind, truthful, respectful to women and affectionate to children, clean- ly, law-abiding and moral. Our civilized vices are practically unknown among them. Inebrity, which is the common vice of the South Sea Islands, is ‘unheard of. This is largely due to the strict watch that is kept over the sailors of incoming vessels, not permitting them to land in ‘great numbers. ‘‘Any one who attempts to sell intoxi- cants is sentenced for six months in prison. The nearest approach to alcoholic drinks is the kava-kava, one trial of which com- pletely quenched my thirst for it. It con- tains as the essential ingredient a root known as taro, and has peculiar narcotic qualities, which produce, even when it is imbibed in very small quantities, unsteadi- ness of the legs without any clouding of the brain. ‘‘This drink is regarded as an expression of the native hospitality and is prepared by the beauties of the village to offer their visitors. Every community has its guest house, where the stranger is welcomed cor- dially, lodged, fed and entertained. The dancing which they provide for the visitors is quite unlike the usual offensive and dis- gusting performances common to the South Seas. It is graceful and attractive. Be- sides being hospitable to outsiders, the Sa- moans are charitable to those who custo- marily dwell within their gates. Here in the United States we have orphanages for children, but there they look out for the interest of little orphan animals. I saw some Samoan women who were tenderly raising some little pigs who had lost their mother. These pigs are of a species like the razor back. They are used as food, together with an abundance of bananas and many other varieties of tropical fruits that grow there freely without demanding any human toil. The earth yields easily and plentifully her luscious products in that mild and warm climate. The houses require almost as little labor for their erection asthe vegetation requires for the growth. In reality they are no more than huts, consisting simply of six upright posts thatched with leaves of sugar cane or cocoanut and neatly paved below with gravel. There is nothing private about them and there is scarcely any furni- ‘ture in them, the sleeping apartments be- ing distinguished by the mats laid upon the floor. But they are better than elegant, they are scrupulously tidy. ‘I bad a very delightful visit in one of these huts. It was the home of Maliteoa Tanus, one of the sons of Maliteoa, and just elected king. He had no idea of be- coming heir to the throne when I left the islands a few weeks ago. He came up to us at the American hotel and commenced talking to us in quite a friendly manner in a foreign tongue. ‘‘Why, that sounds like French,’ I said, ‘It is French,’ he replied. He then stated that he could speak French, German, Italian and English, having received a thoroughly liberal education in London. He was a good friend of Robert Louis Ste- venson and finds genuine congeniality in European and American society. When I asked him why he had lapsed into barbar- ism he replied that he had not, except that he had taken his clothes off. He is a hand- some fellow, six feet tall, of superb build, with pleasing manners and natural ability. “I bad quite a long talk with him re- garding the affairs of the islands, and he impressed me as being well posted and having an excellent grasp of the situation. At the same time his European training had not done away with the childlike sim- plicity of his race, while the characteristic indolence of the inhabitants of the islands has taken a firm hold upon him. In my private opinion I do not think he would walk across the street to accept a kingly crown, at any rate to-day, although he might make up his mind to do so by to- morrow afternoon. However, with all he is an exceedingly bright and intelligent man, and of course far above the average of his subjects in training and education and force of character, and I think his choice as ruler of the island is a particularly happy one, and will no doubt prove a benefit not only to his subjects, bus also to the foreign nations most interested. At the present time the natives, without exception, speak the English language. They do not pay the same compliment to the mother tongue of the Germans who live among them. They detest the Ger- mans and do not permit their officials, as some of the native officials, with whom I dined informed me, to resist the German officers inany way or form, no matter how serious the provocation may appear. The German naval officers at Samoa are the same class of people as the German officials at home, arrogant and unsympathetic. As our ship, the Pacific mail steamer Mariposa, sailed into the bay of Apia her Stars and Stripes were saluted by the two British gunboats stationed there, hut was blankly unrecognized by the German gunboat. I predict that, as soon as a United States man-of-war is anchored in the harbor and the ‘Jackies’ get shore leave there will be an immediate fight between the German tars and themselves, for they will not brook interference nor put up with any nonsense. ‘At present, with three foreign powers exercising a control over the island, the 3,- 000 square miles included in Samoa are better governed than any other land in the South Seas, and if a good government will be continued prosperous days for her will dawn. Her resources in coffee, fruits, cocoanut and copia, the dried meat of the cocoanut, have scarcely been touched, since no one lives more than three or four miles inland, and her population has the distine- tion of being the only island in the South Seas which is not decreasing, but increas- ing.””—From the Philadelphia Times. Peanut Growing. It is a Vast and Rapidly Increasing Business. A fruit and nut dealer talking to a re- porter for the New York Times says: “‘A friend of mine who handles peanuts by the thousands of bushels, says that the people of the United States eat 4,000,000 bushels annually against the 500,000 bushels they consumed before the civil war. They used to have peanuts only on ‘trainin’ day’ in the days of our grandfathers. They had them on the Fourth of July and circus days before the war, and now we have them all the time. The civil war had a lot to do with making the ‘‘goober,’’ as the Virgin- ians call it, popular in the North. The soldiers of the army operating in Virginia and North Carolina acquired the peanut habit and brought it North with them, and now it is a greater favorite north of Mason’s line than it is south of it. The North now consumes two-thirds of the crop sold in this country, but Europe takes fully one- half of all the peanuts grown. They use them for their oil on the other side, the Frenchmen pressing it out and sending it back here as olive oil, after mixing it with a little of the real stuff. People generally have little idea of the vast amount of capi- tal there is interested in the peanut busi- ness in this country. It runs well up into the millions, and the pennies accumulated in it by the Italians on the street corners are the foundations for many a snug little fortune that cuts a big dash among the simple peasautry of sunny Italy. But the pecan is the nut that is to bring big money to dealers in the future. Texas, Georgia, Alabama and Louisiana have followed their successful propagation in California, and in ten years from now we shall be raising enough pecans to supply the whole world. And that is no dream, but a hard, stern fact.”’ ——The new mining town of Florence, near Punxsutawney, which will be built next summer, will be the largest mining town in this part of the state, and the mine will employ more men than any other sin- gle bituminous mine in the United States. A vast coal territory will be tapped by this opening, and when the heading are driven it is expected to give employment to over 2,000 men. ——Few Pennsylvanians realize that in one of the State's counties. Allegheny, the capital, surplus and deposits of the var- ious banks exceed the combined banking capital, surplus and deposits, of eight Southern States. This was the claim of Congressman Graham in his recent appeal for a government appropriation for the im- provement of the Allegheny, Monongahela and Ohio rivers. —In a new jackscrew for raising heavy bodies the spiral ribs inside the frame are replaced by a series of steel balls which mesh in the grooves on the threaded shaft and decrease the Triction as the shaft is turned. ——DBoth the Czar and Czarina are en- thusiastic pedestrians. ——=Subscribe for the WATCHMAN. Emilio Aguinaldo. In the nineteenth century there has not been a more unique figure among the na- tive races of the earth than this Tagalo pa- triot—or rebel; call im what you will. Philosophers call silent men wise; super- ficial people call them ignorant. Aguinal- do is wise among his people. ignorant among Europeans. A man must be judged by his environments, his compatriots, his race. Aguinaldo is not a Napoleon nor a Washington; neither is he a Tecumseh or a Sitting bull. He is Aguinaldo, and his name stands for no metaphor. He has the astuteness of his race, the fearless bravery of the savage warrior, the sphinxlike im- perturbability of the Indian, the straight- forwardness of childhood, and the innate sense of justice that characterizes all abo- riginal races. It may be premature to sum up a man’s character while his career is at the zenith. Some trick of circumstance or expediency may shift the kaleidoscope, for no man can stand under the microscope of the historian until the last page of evidence has been turned in; but Aguinaldo, as he is to-day, commands the consideration and respect of all who have taken the trouble to study his character and watch the trend of events of which he is the central fig- ure. That he loves pomp and opera-bouffe, ludicrous though it seems to the European, cannot condemn him to the showy nobility of the kingdom that taugh his people to reverence gold braid and plumed cockades, nor to the gaudy monarchies of the old world, nor to be our own bemedalled, brass-buttoned, and gold-chevroned army and navy. Aguinaldo is ‘but a feeble imi- tator of a civilization a thousand years his senior. The cost of all the insignias of his three hundred officers would not equal the expenditure for the full dress regalia I have seen worn by the English colonial governor at Hong-kong. His much advertised gold collar pales into insignificance in compari- son with the ones worn by the British dig- nitary. Aguinaldo takes himself seriously. It is a primitive old-fashioned idea, and never fails to arouse the amused smile of a for- eigner. If we set the same representative of a higher civilization down in the presence of the Tagalo chieftain at Malolos head- quarters, the smile will vanish from his face, and he will begin to ask himself why he feels ashamed of his thoughts. I confess I bad to exercise my will-power to with- hold an expression of my amusement when I first gazed upon the Filipino soldiery. Aguinaldo’s generalship shows itself in his resolute chin and overshot jaw. If he were a bull dog a fancier would call him a thoroughbred. In Malolos the natives told me that Aguinaldo never slept. While the Filipino takes his siesta from 12 until 3:30, the priest from 12 until 5. Aguinal- do grapples with the problems of war and peace. Over a thousand miles of telegraph wires (captured from the Spanish) termin- ate at his desk. All parts of Luzon, and even beyond, are within his ready reach, and every regiment receives its orders daily. He is an enigma to his people, and to the foreigner who would probe his thoughts. Among the natives he is held as a demi-god who leads a charmed life— even far back among the hills and yet un- tamed Negrito tribes fear his name. He knows every inch of the Filipino soil, and can hold the outlying districts loyal, for his purpose is never questioned, and the ethics of right and wrong are not discussed. His flag flies over every group of huts, every petty pueblo, and every junk and barge that plies the rivers and bays of Lu- zon, and it is not a stranger among the southern islands. .His people, in the gen- eral acceptance of the word, are Indians; but they must not be confused with the North American product. They are ad- vanced in the arts of civilization far beyond the native races of our continent. They are industrious; they make the soil pro- ductive; they understand the method of developing to their best maturity the native fruits, the cocoanut, the betel nut, the ba- nana, the mango, and even raising potatoes aud apples of an inferior quality. They build substantial houses; they make and mix paints; they carvein wood; they work in iron; they make skillful machinists, good-mill hands, servants and day-laborers, and they worship God.—Harper’s Weekly. | Collecting Resin. The French Take Great Care of the Trees. In the days of the poet Ausonius the Boii of Arcachon were already famous for their “Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums,” and the fresh forests planted since their time have given renewed stimulus to what might, with proper. organization, become a very profitable industry. As it is, the methods might hardly have been changed since the days of the Gauls. At any time the Resinier can be seen in the forests, perched upon his long pole, fitted with its little steps, that seems at first to be leaning against nothing. He rests it partly upon one knee, partly on the pine in which the scar is to be made, some 30 inches long by 4 in width. At the bot- tom the resin is caught in a little earthen pot, which takes about three weeks to be- come full. Tt is then emptied into buckets, and the buckets into vats, the contents of which are in turn distributed into barrels and carried by mule carts to the manu- factory. The foresight and economy employed by the French in their development of this in- dustry stand in glaring contrast to the im- provident waste of present and future ma- terial in the forests of Georgia and Florida. The trees of Arcachon are not scarred until they are some 25 summers old, and only three or four cuts are made each year, which may reach from the bottom as far as 15 feet up the trunk. For 20 years this process may continue, and in some cases for far longer, the older trees bulging out to a great size and producing timber of a much closer grain than those which have been but lightly wounded. The President's Trip South. He Started Monday to be Gone a Fortnight. President McKinley held his last cabinet meeting for several weeks last Friday, as he left for Thomasville, Ga., on Monday, at 6 p. m., by way of the Atlantic coast line. The party consisted of the President and Mrs. McKinley, vice President and Mrs. Hobart, Senator and Mrs. Hobart, Senator and Mrs. Hanna and assistant sec- retary Cortelyou. The party will remain at Thomasville for a couple of weeks or longer, if the public business will permit, as the guests of Senator and Mrs. Hanna. THE WHOLE FAmiLYy—Hawk Run, Pa., March 8th, 1899.—Hannah Lupton of this place states that her entire family have used Hood’s Sarsaparilla for several years and have found it an excellent remedy for headaches and nervousness and for impure blood. So many people testify to the bene- fit derived from this medicine that there could be no doubt of its genuine merit. It is the best medicine money can huy. About Amber. Interesting Facts Concerning This Beautiful and Precious Metal. Although amber is not a precious stone, | or anything of that sort, it is nevertheless a precious metal, one full of picturesque in- terest, and very beautiful to boot. Most of the amber of the world has been found thrown up on the shores of the Baltic sea, and is supposed to be the residuum of old and huge forests of a period before the civ- ilization of the world began. A little is found in this country, a little in England, a little in the far Orient; a little of it is mined, and there the fossil trees, whose gum it was, are still in evidence in the strata with the gum extending from them; the most of the world’s amber comes from the Prussian coast. Originally the appropriation of any piece of the amber found along the shore was punished with death. At present the re- gion is let out to contractors, and the coast is patrolled for trespassers. Quantities of the precious substance are thrown out on the beach after great storms; and in win- ter the amber fishers break through the ice and gather it by hauling up the sea-weed into which it has become imbeded, or go into deep water and spear up the masses of sea-weed that carry it. The great entrepot for the sale of amber is in Vienna, where it is cut and carved in- to faceted beads and fanciful shapes. This is very delicate work, owing to the brittle nature of the article, and requires an unus- ual skill and artistry. Sometimes an in- sect is found sealed into the gum, the chief interest of which is that it is an extinct in- sect of a long vanished past. When any modern insect is found in what purports to be amber, it is known not to be amber, but merely gum-copal. Amber can be told from copal by the fact that the flame of burning copal is steady, while that of am- ber snaps and sparkles. It is distinguished from its imitation in glass by biting it, the glass resisting the teeth stoutly, the amber seeming to yield to the bite. True amber, moreover, is electrical; indeed, electricity takes its name from the old Greek name for amber, and none of its imitations has any power of that nature. The best amber will attract to itself various articles with great celerity; if warmed by rubbing, the second quality will attract with much less force: and with every less fineness of grade resulting usually from melting and remelt- ing, the power diminishes, till after the fourth quality has been reached there is no electrical power left at all. When the best amber is carved the mor- sels left from the carving are melted, mold- ed and then recut, and the result is con- sidered of the second quality. This proc- ess can be repeated four or five times, but each time the grade is of less value than that of the time before. The great purchasers of amber are among the Mohammedams; and wonderful speci- mens are to be found in the Turkish mar- kets. The women are very fond of it, both for its color and its fragrance, to illumine their toilets, and the men use it for mouth pieces to their pipes; as the friendly pipe is passed from mouth to mouth, and wip- ing it would be a great solecism, it is made of amber, which is supposed by the Turks to resist infection. We will see mothers even in this enlightened country who se- cure a string of amber beads around their child’s throat with a no wiser purpose and belief. While this brilliant and beautiful sub- stance has no power of separating and re- fracting the rays of light as a crystal has it has the power of holding the rays in it- self till it looks like solidified sunshine. There is a soft radiance, like that of yellow harvest moons, in the cloudy and milky amber—the most valuable sort; and both that and the kind of a clear golden trans- parence is beautiful enough for queens to wear and kings to have their favorites. No wonder that it has again hecome at- tractive to the butterflies of fashion, who may tire of their pretty playthings, but will always return to them in due time, as a child returns with new joy toa long-for- gotten toy.—From Harper's Bazar. A Pacific King. Tyson is the Richest Man in All Australia. Many newspapers have lately quoted from the London Zimes its narrative of the life of James Tyson, the richest man in Australia, who lately died and left a fort- une of £5,000,000. That is not very much for an American, but in Australia it is con- sidered to be positive affluence. Tyson was an Australian by birth, who began life in poverty, and made all his money in buying and selling cattle and sheep. In that he began and in that he ended, devot- ing himself to it to the absolute exclusion of all other concerns and interests. He knew nothing about spending money, and was as indifferent to the luxuries of life as our own Russell Sage. He wore cheap ready-made clothes, lived frugally, avoided society and remained unmarried. But ac- cording to his lights he had fun. His fun was the cattle business, and what he called ‘‘fighting the desert.”” His money did not seem to interest him. Once he said: ‘“The money is nothing; it is the little game that was the fun.’”” And being asked what the little game was, he answered :— “Fighting the desert. That has been my work. I have been fighting the desert all my life and I have won! I have put water where there was no water, and beef where there was no beef. I have put fences where there was no fences, and roads where there were no roads. Nothing can undo what I have done, and millions will be happier for it after I am long dead and forgotten.’’ Tyson seems to nave been the modern millionaire reduced to his simplest terms. The chief end of millionaires, after they get the few millions which they require to make them comfortable, is to bestow their surplus in such a manner that it will grow. It seems hard to do that successfully with- out incidentally promoting the comfort and well-being of one’s fellows. The ‘‘little game’’ is a good game; so good, indeed, that the players are always in some danger of getting over-interested in it and forming too many of the combinations called “trusts.” It may be necessary presently to put a limit to it. How would it do to proclaim that when a man has played it till he has won five hundred millions he shall keep 5 per cent. of his winnings, and the rest shall be put back into the general pool and the cards reshuffled >—E. S. Mar- tin in Harper's Weekly. ——Richard Suydam Palmer, the wealthy young yachtman, who died the first of this month as a result of hardships suffered and disease contracted during the Cuban campaign, has willed $10,000 to Captain Casper F. Goodrich, of the United States navy, under whom he served as an ensign on the auxiliary cruiser St. Louis. The will also leaves $20,000 to charity. Mr. Palmer owned at one time the steel cruising schooner yacht Yampa, which he subsequently sold to the emperor of Germany.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers