Bellefonte, Pa., Sept. 22. 1899.
asm —_—
A BIRTHDAY PRAYER.
The field Thou gavest me to keep
Is choked with weeds, or bare.
Scant time is left to plant or reap—
O Master! dost Thou care?
I planted seed; Thy sun and dew
Wrought silently their part,
But while the green blades upward grew,
Ah, careless roamed my heart!
I left my tender plants to die
Beset by noisome weed ;
My field lay scorching, parched, and dry;
I cared not for its need.
To-day I walk within my plot,
And fain would gather grain,
Alas ! the golden fruit is not—
My harvest bitter pain.
Have pity, Husbandman divine!
Come to this desert ground.
Although my strength and years decline,
Thy mercy knows ne bound.
O let thy love, a cleansing flame,
Burn o’er this weed-grown land ;
Thy harrow use—I’'ll bless the name
When in my Father's hand.
The sunlight now begins to wane ;
My feet no more shall ream.
Lord, may I bear some ripened grain
When twilight calls me home.
— Edith Eddy Lyons.
THE COLLEGIANS.
On that critical February afternoon Mar-
garet Ford sat alone in the Greek seminary
room of the university, planning a life dra-
ma of highly colored elements. She had
just hought her Doctor of Philosophy de-
gree at the cost of eight years’ stiff work,
as devoid of the picturesque as the white
plastered walls of the seminary room,
against which the classical busts stood out
faintly. She felt that she had earned the
right to warm dreams, of which she was the
central figure. The scene of these visions
was Mercer University, whose favorite she
had heen for these last eight years. No
masculine record had been as brilliant as
hers. She had wellnigh convinced the most
sceptical members of the faculty that the
feminine mind can grasp even those subtle
mysteries of the universe embodied in the
higher mathematics. To clinch this act of
faith on the part of the doubting much de-
greed Thomases, she had gone through the
emotional cataclysms of a courtship and an
engagement in her last, most critical year,
without her work suffering thereby. Some
of her contemporaries, young girls who re-
sented her exemptuness from experiences
which they felt she ought to have, said of
this engagement that Margaret had left the
bruntsof it to Fiske Willard. He did the
suffering, feeling, hoping, longing, and all
the rest of it, while his lady worked out
her thesis in calmness, only pausing at in-
tervals to ask him how he was getting on.
But Margaret honestly felt that man was
made to bear the brunt of all things of this
life, even of love. She watched him strug-
gle towards her through a whirlwind of
passion, and when he reached her at last,
out of breath and feverish and wide eyed,
she bade him hurry on and take his Doctor
of Philosophy degree, lest he should miss
an instructorship in Mercer the next year.
A great deal depended on this instructor-
ship. It would lead eventually to a pro-
fessorship, and a professorship might lead
to the Presidency, if Fiske Willard were
properly managed by a brilliant wife.
Margaret was already tasting the sweets of
that campaign. No professor’s wife, to
her knowledge, had ever had intellect
enough to form a salon. The women of
the faculty were content to give very good
dinners, at which the men did most of the
talking, while their wives listened, looking
sweet and womanly. Young as she was
Margaret felt a vast contempt for them.
She could afford to be contemptuous several
years in advance, for her intellect was back-
ed by good looks, and she knew how to
dress, being city bred. She already saw
herself the centre of a salon which would
add to the fame of Mercer and insure Fiske
the Presidency. On this dreary February
afternoon, while Fiske was under fire for
his doctorate degree, and while she was
waiting the triumphant outcome of that or-
deal, she planned the ways and means of
his advancement. Clever engineering
would be necessary on her part, for the
man who had chosen her had about him
something of the irresponsibility of genius.
He wrote amazing stories, but was loath to
sell them. He had written a series of son-
nets to her during their courtship—flower-
like products of ephemeral value, but pos-
sessing the grace and perfume of flowers.
She had sent some of them to a magazine
without his knowledge. When a check
came in return she thought he would be
pleased, but for some mysterious reason he
was deeply angered. He had torn the
check in two; had asked her why she mock-
ed him. She was more than ever convine-
ed that he could not attain to high places
without her watchful management. She
found herself wishing that she could have
been present at his critical examinations.
She almost resented her exclusion from this
great affair, which was to be the first round
in their ladder. It wassoon to be over now.
Deep booming in the clock tower had just
sounded five.
After another quarter of an hour she be-
gan to be impatient. She rose from her
seat at the long table and paced the room.
Once she paused at a broad window that
overlooked the valley. The short February
afternoon was passing into evening. Night
seemed already to have closed over the dark
lake at the base of the university hills.
Lights shone in the town below. One or
two students were toiling up the long snow
covered slope to the library. The dreari-
ness of the scene depressed Margaret. She
turned away again.
Just then a key was put into the door.
Her heart leaped. He had come at last !
But Peggy Leonard entered instead.
Margaret had said once to Fiske that Mer-
cer offered her one insoluble problem, the
presence within its halls of Peggy Leonard.
Her bewilderment was not altogether with
out justification. Peggy’s appearance con-
tradicted every academic tradition of the
scholar. She was slender and - rounded,
with the skin and eyes of a baby, and a
cloud of yellow hair that was at the mercy
of the winds which raged like demons over
the campus. She wore frivolous gowns
even in the lecture room, and went toevery
dance of the winter, to say nothing of other
functions. No one knew when and where
she studied. She had been seen on sev-
eral occasions bending over the ponderous
=ncyclopaedias in the library, but a mascu-
line head was always in close proximity to
hers. She seemed as little inclined to face
an encyclopaedia alone as the dangers of
the lake or of the neighboring ravines.
How she ever passed her examinations was
an irritating mystery to Margaret.
‘No man can resist fluffy blond hair,”’
she said once to Fiske. ‘‘Peggy Leonard’s
untidy hair has taken heras far as her Jun-
ior year, but I doubt if it graduates her.”
Fiske did not reply. He liked the own-
er of this blond fluffiness, but he knew bet-
ter than to defend her to Margaret. He
liked her cheery ways, her honest admira-
tion of scholarship and learning and serious
endeavor, and the rest of the program that
she made no attempt to carry out. He had
seen a good deal of her this winter, for
they were boarding at the same house. She
had flashed past his study door in bright
array many an evening that he was to de-
vote either to Margaret or to study. Cava-
liers were always waiting for her at the foot
of the stairs, young undergraduates, who
adored her, and whom she treated with
kind nonchalance. With Fiske she was al-
ways a little shy. She stood in awe of his
attainments. She did not talk with him
much, but sometimes Fiske was conscious
that she watched him. He felt her friend-
liness like a genial atmosphere. But of
late he had not quite understood her con-
duct. Some days she would seek him with
a certain feverishness of manner, would
talk with him in a mature fashion that
seemed very unlike her. At other times
she would openly avoid him. On this af-
ternoon she entered the seminary room with
the timidity she always showed in Margar-
et’s presence. Her color had fled before
some stress of thought. The pallor of her
face and the blue shadows about her eyes
gave her a look of maturity, heightened by
the dark gown she wore.
‘She looks as if she had been really study-
ing,” was Margaret’s first thought, after
she had recovered from theslight annoyance
caused by the girl’s entrance. Peggy in
the Greek seminary room seemed as much
out of place as an Angora kitten.
‘I beg your pardon Miss Ford.
am not disturbing you.
a book.”
‘Not at all,”” Margaret answered coldly,
turning on the electric light.
Miss Leonard groped about among the
books as if she scarcely knew what she had
come for. Suddenly she turned. Her face
in the glare of the electric light seemed
haggard.
‘“The doctorate examinations are not over
yet, Isuppose,’’ she said.
‘They should be by this time,’’ Margar-
et answered crisply. ‘I am expecting Mr.
‘Willard every minute.”
‘Of course he’ll make a wonderful show-
ing,” Miss Leonard said, with a certain
wistful intonation.
‘‘He will probably do what is expected
of him,”’ Margaret replied.
The two girls looked at each other for a
moment. Margaret's somewhat austere
beauty was somewhat heightened by Miss
Leonard’s too childlike and obvious charm.
She felt herself altogether at an advantage
with this fluttering little thing. Under the
older woman’s calm gaze, Peggy grew very
red. She apologized again for her intrusion,
and hastened to the door. When it was
closed upon her, Margaret breathed a sigh
of relief.
‘““Thank Heaven ! she is gone before he
comes. I want to be all alone with you,
dear. I.wonder why she is interested in
his doctorate? She has no business to be.
Fiske, why don’t you come?’
Her imagination ran riot as to possible
causes of delay. Three-quarters of an hour
passed, dragging large cargoes of her impa-
tience. At six she heard his step in the cor-
ridor. She found herself wondering if he
had on heavy shoes. His key in the door
brought her face to face with a crisis. So
great was her nervousness that she had a
sensation of physical sickness. She could
not bring herself to look at him till she had
regained her self possession. She turned to
a window and stared out into the darkness.
His voice would break the spell, and she
would cry or laugh. But he did not speak.
Yet she knew he had entered the room,had
closed the door behind him. Why was he
keeping her in suspense? She turned slow-
ly around and faced him. He stood, lean-
ing one arm heavily upon the table. He
seemed so very tired. His eyes were raised
to her as a dog’s who expects the lash.
She needed no words of his to tell her he
had failed.
She grew ag pale as he, but she forced a
smile.
“Well, Fiske—the news?"
““There is no news,’’ he said, huskily.
“Why not?’’ she questioned, her voice
shrill with emotion.
‘‘Margaret, I have failed,” he said with
an appeal in his voice.
‘“You failed 1’’
‘Yes. Don’t look at me that way, dear.
It1sn’t necessary to hurt me, toshame me,”’
“To hurt you! to shame you!’ she re-
peated. She went over to the window-seat
again and sank upon it. Fiske became
aware that she was weeping passionately,
as he did not know she could weep. Her
sobs seemed to tear her slender frame in
their efforts to find vent. He was mental-
ly too tired to be much alarmed, to detect
the note of hysteria. He went over to her
and laid his hand gently on her. She shook
it off as if it burned her.
‘Don’t touch me ! Don’t come near me !
How dare you! How can you! You've
shamed me before the whole university.
What will they say? A man whocouldn’t
pass his doctorate! You make me ridicu-
lous. Tell me,’’ she went on between her
sobs—‘‘tell me what was wanting. You to
fail ! to fail ! and in letters too !”’
Fiske looked at her with great compas-
sion in his haggard face.
“I found in the first hour that my prep-
aration had been inadequate, he answered
quietly.
‘“What an excuse !* she laughed. ‘‘You
had time enough. You wasted it on that
novel. A man who can’t take a doctorate
in letters had better not try to write.”’
Fiske’s face was white now with another
sort of emotion.
“Don’t try me too far, Margaret,’’ he
said. “I don’t ask your sympathy, but
spare me your taunts.’
He might have reminded her that she had
demanded much more of his time this last
year than he had given to his novel, but he
did not. His pity for her was genuine. She
was so ambitious, so imperious, and he had
failed her. He regretted his angry words
the instant they had passed his lips.
‘Dear, let us go out into the air. I feel
as if I could not breath in here. Thesnow
is very crisp. Let us walk through the
woods to the farm house and get our supper.
Then on the way back we can talk it over.
I am going to try again. This failure means
success in the end.”
She shook her head.
‘It ends Mercer for us. They will never
give you an instructorship now. They want
men with straight records.”
‘But there are other universities,’’ he
ventured.
“None like Mercer. You don’t under-
stand. You don’t share my love for it.”
She began to cry again.
‘But everything is at an end now !”’
“Our love is not atan end ’’ hesaid soft-
ly. ‘‘Dear, if you love me, I can do any-
thing.”
“I loved you, yet you lost this degree,’’
she added. ‘‘Don’t talk of love, or you'll
drive me to say that that is over too.”
I hope I
I came to consult
He was miserably silent.
‘Leave me now, Fiske.
alone.”
He obeyed her.
Peggy Leonard was in the porch of the li-
brary as he came out. She had heard the news
of his failure. Fiske bore the confirmation
in his face. He did not see her as he flung
through the great doors. She put herself in
his way.
*‘Mrs. Denton asked me to supper to-
night, Mr. Willard; told me to bring
along anyone I met on the campus. You
know the generosity of her invitations.
What's better she means them! I want
you to come with me, please.”
She placed herself in front of him. Fiske
looking down on her, thought she seemed
very young and small. Her tone was jest-
ing, but her blue eves were bright, as if
with tears.
“It is good of you, Miss Leonard; but,
you see you mustn’t be friendly just now.
I’ve failed of my doctorate.’’
She shrugged her shoulders. Her eyes
gazed out into the night with an expression
that was very, very old.
“What of it?’’ she said. ‘‘One might
lose more valuable things. Idaresay you'll
get it next time. But don’t bother now.
You need hot coffee, and Mrs. Denton.
She’s motherly and sweet, and she never
frightens one with epigrams. Please come,”’
she pleaded. She raised her eyes to Fiske’s.
He had the sensation of a half frozen man,
stumbling into light and warmth out of a
tempest.
“I will come,’ he said.
She drew a long breath. The rose leaf
color came again into her face.
I want to be
Ten years later Margaret Ford sat at her
desk reading over.and over again a letter
that had just come from a friend. As she
read it she forgot that she was thirty and
three, a teacher in a New York school, a
lonely inhabitant of a tiny flat filled with
her books and her large vague ambitions.
She forgot her surroundings. She was hack
again in Mercer the most distinguished girl
in the university, engaged toa man who
promised to be distinguished. She ran over
the brilliant courtship. She knew now
that she had gone through a magnificent
experience, with but little appreciation of
its wonders. Her train of thought led her
direct to that last scene in the Greek semi-
nary room.
“I -wish that I had not broken our en-
gagement,’’ she said aloud.
She rose and went to a long mirror.
“T am beautiful yet,’ she thought. ‘‘Is
it possible that we—that he—might care
yet. He loved meso!” She knew that
she would not appeal to the rank and file
of men, but Fiske Williard was not of the
rank and file. She went back to the desk
and began to re-read the letter.
*“ ‘I have secured Fiske Willard for a
dinner—a triumph ! the man who has writ-
ten the most successful novel of a decade is
not easy prey, but I—depending on you.’
“I must have skipped a page,’’ Margaret
thought. Inher excitement she had hurri-
ed again and again to the essentials of the
letter. It filled two sheets of note paper.
She twisted and turned the second sheet
until she found the continuity.
‘* ‘But I—but I—engineered and gained
my point. His wifeis with him. She was
a Mercer girl, a Peggy Leonard—not his
equal intellectually, but wonderfully fitted
to hold up the social end of his busy life.
From New York they go straight to Mercer
—the day after my dinner. It is rumored
that the university will offer him a chair.
The romance began at Mercer it seems,
and——’ ”
The sheet of note paper dropped from
Margaret’s hand. She bowed her head on
her desk. She could give way to her pas-
sion of grief and bitterness and disappoint-
ment. There was no one in the flat to wit-
ness it.—Anna McClure Sholl in Harper's
Bazar.
Birds that Crack Nuts.
There is a wonderful cockatoo in one of
the islands of the Indian Ocean, near New
Guinea. It is as large as a full grown
pheasant, and it is of a jet-black color.
The bird is remarkable for its immensely
strong bill and the clever manner in which
it is used. The bill is as hard as steel, and
the upper part has a deep notch in it.
Now, the favorite food of this cockatoo is
the kernel of the canary nut; but there is
wonderful ingenuity required to get at it,
for the nut is something like a Brazil nut,
but it is ten times as hard. In fact, it re-
quires the blow of a heavy hammer to
crack it. It is quite smooth and somewhat
triangular in shape.
The cockatoo might throw the nut down,
but it would not break; or it might hold it
in its claws like parrots usually do with
their food, and attempt to crush it, but
the smoothness of the nut would cause it to
fly out of the beak. Nature appears to
have given the possessor of the wonderful
bill some intelligence to direct its powers,
for the cockatoo takes one of the nuts edge-
wise in its bill and by a carving motion of
the sharp lower beak makes a small notch
on it. This done, the bird takes hold of
the nut with its claws and, biting off a
piece of leaf, retains it in the deep notch
on the upper part of the bill. Then the
nut is seized between the upper and lower
parts of the hill and prevented from slip-
ping by the peculiar texture of the leaf.
A sharp nip or two in the notch breaks off
a tiny piece of the shell of the nut. The
bird then seizes the nut in its claws and
pokes the long, sharp point of its bill into
the hole, and picks out the kernel bit by
bit.
The cockatoo has a very long tongue,
which collects each morsel as it is broken
off by the bill.
This isa wonderful process, forit is quite
clear that without the leaf nothing could
be done, and it proves how certain struc-
tures in birds are made to destroy cer-
tain parts of plants.
——The American Bankers’ association
represents a capital of from $5,000,000,000
to $10,000,000,000. With such wealth
under its control, it will not be difficult
for it to secure almost anything that it may
ask for, but there are somethings which
are even beyond its abilities to obtain. It
has just asked Congress to pass a law, legal-
ly establishing the gold standard. What
do you think of such a request at this time
—with a presidential election near at
hand ? Congress is no doubt willing to
do a great deal for the American Bankers"
association. But to take such a radica.
step as that suggested, at this time;
can hardly be done.
Joe Patchen Sold.
H. Y. Haws, of Johnstown, has sold his
famous racer, Joe Patchen, to Senator Mec-
Carthy,of Goshen, N. Y. Haws paid about
$20,000 for Patchen a few weeks ago in
Cleveland, O. It is understood that the price
paid by Senator McCarthy, whose check ar-
rived last week was in excess of what Haws
paid. Mr. Haws says that Senator McCarthy
will put Patchen on his stock farm near
Goshen. This may mean that Patchen will
never be seen again in a race.
Helen Keller’s Last Triumph.
-One of the most notable and remarkable
young women in this country is Miss
Helen Keller. Her physical afflictions
have elicited the sympathy of thousands of
people. Other young women are blind
and deaf and dumb, and receive the sym-
pathy of many people, but what has made
Helen Keller unique among women who
are thus afflicted is the fact that she has been
enabled in a large measure to triumph over
her afflictions. Her case has received
much attention in the public prints for a
number of years, and each new victory
that she has won has been heralded far and
wide.
A few months ago she added another
triumph to the large number that she had
achieved. Having completed her prepara-
tions for college in three years instead of
four, which it was thought necessary for
her to take, she presented herself last June
for the regular entrance examination for
Radcliffe College at Cambridge. The
branches in which she was to be examined
on this occasion were geometry, algebra,
elementary Greek, advanced Greek, and
advanced Latin.
The requirements for admission te this
institution are of such a character as to
make even the brightest young woman,
with the best preparation, nervous as to
the outcome of her examinations; but it is
safe to say that no person ever presented
herself for a college examination with so
many things against her as did Helen Kel-
ler.
She could not see the examination pa-
pers, nor hear the voice of the examiner.
The natural method of communicating the
questions to her would have been to make
use of the fingers of her devoted teacher
and interpreter, Miss Sullivan, but as Miss
Sullivan is not acquainted with Greek or
Latin or higher mathematics, she was un-
able to be of service at this time. It was
necessary, therefore, to bring in an inter-
preter from the outside, and a gentleman
from the Perkins Institution for the Blind,
who had heard of Helen Keller, but had
never met her, and was unable to commun-
icate with her in any way, wrote out the
examination questions in the Braille char-
acters, which is a system of writing in
punctured points now generally used by
the blind. These questions written out by
him were given to Helen Keller in the ex-
amination room, where she was constantly
in the presence of an officer of the college.
She read the questions in her own way,
and then wrote out her answers on the
typewriter.
It would seem as if the physical obstacles
which she was compelled to surmount
ought to have been sufficient to dissuade
her fromm her purpose, but she was com-
pelled to surmount an additional difficulty.
The system ot Braille writing in which the
examination papers were transcibed was
the American, whereas Helen Keller had
been accustomed to the English system.
It became necessary for her then to wrestle
with the unfamiliar method of writing, as
well as with the examination questions.
Besides all this, her Swiss watch, which
had been made for the blind, had been for-
gotten at home, and there was no one at
hand on either of the days of examination
to tell her the time, so she was compelled
to work on in the dark.
But in spite of all the embarrassments
she passed the examinations in triumph in
every study. In Latin she passed with
credit; in Greek she received a very high
mark; and in the other studies her record
was also creditable. She is now ready for
matriculation as a student at Radcliffe,
having performed one of the most remark-
able achievements, as well as one of the
most unique, in human annals. The col-
lege authorities treated her with no greater
consideration than they did any other
young woman who came up for examina-
tion; no particle of severity was abated for
her because she was deaf, dumb and blind,
and no precautions were omitted because
she is known to be incapable of deceit.
Without the touch of a friendly hand she
sat alone in the total darkness, and as she
passed her fingers over the slips, pricked
with unfamiliar characters, which were pat
before her, she would turn to her type-
writer and write out her answers to the
difficult questions.
The case of Helen Keller ought to be an
inspiration to every young man and young
woman in this country. If she, under the
awful burden of physical debility, deprived
of hearing, of speech, of sight, can master
the difficult problems of an entrance ex-
amination, and gain the mastery over these
to such an extent as to secure admission to
an educational institution with high credit,
what ought not the young man or woman
to be able to do who is not thus impeded
and afflicted ?— Christian Advocate.
Hair for Violin Bows.
The horse hair used in making violin
and other similar bows is imported from
Germany, a considerable part of the hair
thus imported, however, coming originally
from Russia. Horse hair for these pur-
poses is white and black; the black is the
heavier and stronger, and is used in mak-
ing bows for bass viols, because it bites
the big strings better. In preparing the
hair for use in bow making the white hair
used for violin bows, is bleached to bring
it to its final whiteness.
The standard violin bow is twenty-nine
inches in length; longer bows are made to
order. Shorter bows are used by young
persons, but the bow commonly seen in
the hands of a violin player is twenty-nine
inches long. Horse hair for violin bows
is imported in various lengths, but mostly
in lengths of thirty-six inches. Hair suf-
ficient for one bow is put together in what
is called a hank. The hanks are tied up
in bundles of a dozen hanks; these are
bundled in grosses, and the gross bundles
are put together in great grosses, in which
shape the hair is imported.
There are grades and qualities of the
horse hair, but the best is not very costly.
A hank of the hest white hair can be
bought for 1s. it might cost 1s. 6d. more
to have it put into the bow. To rehair a
bass viol bow costs more, the bulk of hair
required being greater.
How Postal Cards are Wasted.
‘“Women often send messages to their
dressmakers or to dry goods shops on
postal cards, ’’ says the Ladies’ Home Journal
‘‘attaching a bit of cloth, ribbon or samples.
This makes the card unmailable, so that it
is always sent to the dead letter office and
invariably destroyed. Men—presumably
men—not infrequently paste a clever joke
or a telling political fragment upon a
postal card and send it to a friend—at
least, start it, but it never arrives. Noth-
ing can be attached to a postal card, nor
may one word be written on the address
side except the address itself.”
——Colonel Lugard, the new Governor
General and Commander-in-Chief of North-
ern Nigeria, will leave England for West
Africa in October. He will make his cap-
ital and government house at Jebba.
| thought and my nightly dream.
The Indian Wives.
The probability that more land in Indian
Territory will be thrown open to white set-
tlement has caused a flood of inquiries as
to the personnel of the Indians who live in
the territory.
Most people are under the impression
most of them as well educated as the upper
class of citizens of the larger Eastern cit-
ies.
There are five nations—Choctaw, Chicka-
saw, Cherokee, Creek and Seminole. About
10 per cent of the five tribes are full bloods
while the remainder are quarter, sixteenth
and thirty-second blood.
The young men are almost all highly
educated, as well as the girls. Each nation
has a school, where these young people are
educated and boarded free. The school is
maintained by the United States, and all
the higher branches are taught. The In-
dians are compelled to send their children
to these schools. Perhaps the most inter-
esting characters of the Indian nation to-
day are the girls and young women.
At a matter of fact. these Indian girls of
the five tribes would be at home in any
drawing room. They have been educated
into it by the college teachers among them.
It is very difficult todistinguish the Indian
girls of the Territory from white girls who
live among them.
During the last quarter of a century the
number of white men who have married
girls belonging to the five civilized tribes has
been astonishing. The advantages of marry-
ing these girls are many. The man who mar-
ries one is at once adopted into the tribe and
is given a tract of fine land and his share
of the annuity funds, which in some tribes
amounts to $50 per, month. The white
adopted citizens have become a power
among the Indians of the Territory, and it
is largely due to them—at least the more
honest ones—that the Territory is being
opened to settlement. Not long ago one of
these attractive Indian girls, for a joke, in-
serted an ad. in a matrimonial paper, and
it was a good paper or else the ad. was a
very attractive one, because she received
350 proposals of marriage.
The Indian girls have been trapped by
fortune hunters so many times that they
ave very suspicious of proposals of marriage
from white men whom they have not known
any length of time. To protect these girls
from the clutches of unprincipled men the
interior department made a ruling that be-
fore a white man could marry any of the
five civilized tribe she must presenta certif-
icate of good character from the judge of
the county where he last resided. They
want no more criminals in the Indian race.
—New York Journal.
Wooing a School Teacher.
‘Yes,’ said a young wan, as he threw
himself at the feet of the pretty school-
mistress. “‘I love you, and would go to
the world’s end for you.”
‘You could not go to the end of the
world for me, James. The world, or the
earth, as it is called, is round like a ball,
slightly flattened at the poles. One of the
first lessons in elementary geography is de-
voted to the shape of the globe. You must
have studied it when you were a boy.
“Of course I did, but’’——
‘‘And it is no longer a theory. Circum-
navigators have established the fact.”’
“I know, but what I meant was that I
would do anything to please you. Ah,
Minerva, if you knew the aching void”’—
“There is no such thing as a void, James.
Nature abhors a vacuum. But, admitting
that there could be such a thing, how could
the void you speak of be a void if there
were an ache in it ?”’
“I meant to say that my life will be
lonely without you; that you are my daily
I would
go any where to be with you. If you were
in Australia or at the North Pole, I would
fly to you. I”——
“Fly! It will be another century be-
fore men can fly. Even when the laws of
gravitation are successfully overcome, there
will still remain, says a scientific authority,
the difficulty of maintaining a balance’ —
“Well, at all events I” exclaimed the
youth. ‘‘I’ve got a pretty fair balance in
the bank, and I want you to be my wife.
There !”’
‘Well, James, since you put it in that
light, I"’——
Curtain.
Nothing New Under the Tent.
I wandered to the circus, John; I sat be-
neath the tent and saw the man from
Borneo, likewise the tattooed gent. I
heard the toothless lions howl, while men
in spangled clothes stepped fearlessly into
their dens and whacked them on the nose.
I saw the sacred elephant spout water
through his trunk, the salamander eating
lead and other melted junk; I heard the
merry clown get off the jokes we used to
known when we were boys together, John,
some twenty years ago. The same old
horses waddled ’round the same old kind
of ring; the same old comic vocalists prov-
ed that they couldn’t sing; the same old
hippopotamus was grunting with disgust;
the same old Persian ox was kicking up
the dust; the same old rheumatic acrobats
crawled painfully around, and the ossified
contortionist was crawling on the ground,
and ladies rode barebacked steeds to music
sad and slow—the same old girls we used
to see some twenty years ago.— Minneapolis
Messenger.
Falling Off in Farm Values.
In a report made by E. T. Peters, special
agent of the Agricultural Department at
‘Washington, relative to the agricultural
condition of Lancaster county, he shows
that there has been a surprising decrease in
farm values. He says that a farm here
that once sold at public sale at $250 or $300
an acre now brings only $125 an acre in the
market, and farm properties generally
bring only one-half their former prices. In
many instances farming is being conducted
at a loss, and this is the case with some of
the finest properties in the county. From
careful inquiries he believes that fully 50
per cent. of the farmers are tenants. He
concludes that it is a bad indication for the
welfare of a country when the returns from
toil are so small that the owners refuse to
live on their farms.
——The village of Sainte Foy de Taren-
taise, in the department of Rhone, is at-
tracting attention because of a curious local
phenomenon. It is situated on a small
plateau, which for some time has been in
slow but continuous motion. Already the
bell tower of the church is out of the per-
pendicular, and the interiors and cellars of
some of the houses show enormous cracks
and fissures.
——Gencral Schilder, of St. Petershurg,
is writing a biography of Czar Alexander
I. in twenty volumes, of which four have
been published.
Women of the Five Nations Are Now Typical S8quaws., |
that they wear blankets and live in tepees. |
The Indians are as thoroughly civilized and !
Users of Morphine.
**The amount of morphine used hy wo
{ en in New York is increasing at an alarm-
ing rate,”’ said a physician. “I do not
give the drug at all, save in extreme cases,
tor I believe we doctors are largely re-
sponsible for the spread of the evil. It
seems such an easy, merciful thing to re-
lieve acute suffering by a dose of morphine,
and it would be all right if the patients
couldn’t get the drug themselves. They
can get it. There’s the trouble.
**I was called to see one of my patients
last week. She is a wealthy woman. Sh
developed the morphine habit two yea
ago, when she had a serious illness. Sinc
then she has had periodical sprees with
morphine, in spite of all we could do to
prevent her. She always says that the de-
plorable state she gets into is due to other
causes, but I can tell, as soon as I see her
whether she has been taking morphine.
Last week, when I went tosee her, she was
a nervous wreck and said she had been
agonizing with rheumatism. Rheumatism
is a handv thing. A doctor can’t swear
that a patient hasu’t got it. I accused the
woman of having heen on a morphine
spree. She denied it. I appealed to her
husband. He searched her bureau and
chiffonier and found 200 morphine pills.
She had bought them all at one time, but
wouldn’t tell who sold them to her. -
“Of course there's a law against selling
morphine except on perscription. But a
morphine fiend can always get it if he is
persistent, and generally he is so. Any
physician can tell a habitual morphine
taker at a glance. So can a druggist.
The latter reads the unmistakable signs in
a man’s face, and if he hasn’t a conscience,
will sell the morphine victim what he
wants. The druggist knows that the pur-
chaser will guard the secret quite as closely
as he could. But, if a person with no
symptoms of the morphine habit wants to
buy the drug, he will probably have great
difficulty in getting it. No pharmacist,
even if not particularly reputable, wants to
take the chances of being hauled up for a
breach of the law.
I am constantly running across cases of
the morphine habit, especially, as I said,
among women. The life they lead when
active socially uses up their nerves, and
they take morphine for neuralgia until
they can’t get along without it. Usually
they are ashamed of the habit and conceal
it carefully, but sometimes they are quite
open about it, take their morphine regu-
larly and will not listen to reason. A
short time ago a beautiful young woman
showed me a new chatelaine ornament she
had just bought. It was a remarkably
handsome gold case, studded with jewels,
and looked like a vinaigrette. The top
opened, and inside were a tiny hypodermic
syringe and tube of morphine. I said
something more forcible than polite and
tried to make her see the insanity of the
thing, but she only laughed and told me
she carried morphine pills in her chate-
laine bonbonniere, so that she would be all
right if she happened to be where she
couldn’s use the hypodermic, which she
prefeired. I threatened to tell her hus-
band, but she said he knew abou. it and
didn’t care. She didn’t bother him, and
he didn’t bother her. I went to the hus-
band, and he merely shrugged his should-
ers and said he never interfered with his
wife. Then I relieved my mind again and
told bim what I thought of him—and now
there is one family less on my list of pa-
tients.
“That was an exceptional case, I admit.
Usually relatives and friends of a person
who takes morphine do everything possible
to break up the habit, but a morphine
fiend is remarkable for cleverness. A
great many women who don’t want any
one to know that they have the habit work
the physicians for morphine. I know
women of good families who never go more
than two weeks without terrible attacks of
neuralgia or rheumatism or something else
that causes excrutiating agony. The doc-
tor is called in and tries to relieve the
woman, but nothing relieves her until he
tries morphine. If he is clever enough to
see through the thing and too’ conscien-
tious to help out the little farce, he gives
up the case. Another doctor is called in
and another, until one prescribes what is
wanted. This is an old, old game. Many
a struggling young doctor has thought his
fortune made because a wealthy woman in
his neighborhood called him in, but when
she is seriously ill she goes back to her old
doctor. She only wants the new one to
prescribe morphine for her neuralgia.
There’s no use in the world for a doctor
acquiring the morphine habit. He knows
better. Yet some of the doctors do it.
One famous old New York doctor used to
take his morphine as regularly as he took
his breakfast, and whenever he gave a hyp-
odermic injection to a patient he took one
himself while he had the syringe out, just
for sociability, I suppose. He never went
to pieces under it, but I presume he would
have done so in time.
‘‘No one but a physician can realize how
this special vice is increasing and how ser-
ious a problem it presents. As a class the
medical profession takes a strong stand
against it, but I confess I'm feeling iather
discouraged. The person whe takes a dose
of morphine for anything within the limits
of endurance is a fool—but the world is
ull of fools.”’
Seven Prospectors Died in Alaska.
Otto Thews, of Primrose, Ia., who has
arrived from Copper river, Alaska, brings
news confirming the reported deaths of
seven members of the Scientific Prospect-
ing company, of New York. The dead are:
Earhardt, Miller, Allerman, Schutz, Peter
Siegel, Butner and Baumgartner.
George Hooker, another member of the
party, got out alive, but is badly crippled
with scurvy, which carried away the ma-
jority of his companions. Baumgartner
went out hunting and was never seen
again. The most affecting case was that
of Butner, who was driven insane by his
sufferings. His weak companions had to
strap him down, but even then they could
not restrain him. One morning Butner
was found sitting in the snow with his
clothes off. The mercury was 45 degrees
below zero. Butner was taken inside, but
he died in a few hours. The party camped
at Twelve Mile, just beyond Valdez
Glacier. :
Thews also brings a grewsome story of
the remains of a whaler named Smith, who
perished last November on Valdez Glacier.
All the flesh had heen eaten by ravens.
The remains were identified by clothing
and effects. His purse, containing $250,
was among. the effects. A prospector named
Austed, a partner of Smith, said a money
belt which contained a sum of money was
missing.
Thews said he had a close call crossing
the glacier. He fell into a crevasse 1,000
feet from the top, but the pack on his back
caught him and held him until his com-
panions could come to his rescue.
——Paul Kruger’s salary as President of
the Transvaal Republic is $35,000 a year.