Bemorraiic atc Bellefonte, Pa., Oct. 6. 1899. “IF YOU LOVE ME.” Eager lips grow oft so dumb, When youth’s ardors have departed, And alas! too quickly come Days when love is hungry-hearted, Then, to sweet old memories turning, How our tears in secret flow, And we no longer whisper, yearning, “If you love me, tell me so.” Though we doubt not, deep within, Still that wistful pain besets us, And we wonder—is it «in? If the worshiped one forgets us, Oh, for one dear little token, Fragrant of the long-ago, One endearment, acted, spoken !— “If you love me, tell me so.” Why, O dearest put away All love's tenderness and sweetness ? These should be the same for aye, As love grows to its completeness. Spare not, then, the old caresses; Sweeter every year they grow; Ah! the thrill of lips on tresses !— “If you love me, tell me <0.” Tell me so by day and night, And forever, knowing, surely, Ne’er the fount of love’s delight Overbrimmed it, welling purely, Deep, ah, deep the wells of loving! Out of God’s own heart they flow, Living well, forever moving— “If you love me, tell me so.” —James Buckham in Harper's Bazar. THE SILENCE OF SIMEON SAYLES. “I wish to goodness, Simeon Sayles, that you would shut up and keep shut up !”’ said Myra Sayles, in a weary tone, and speaking as if the words were forced from her against her will. ‘“You do, hey ?”’ replied her brother Simeon, sharply and irritably. He had been scolding about some trifling matter for nearly half an hour, and his sis- ter Myra has listened in patient silence. Now she spoke because he had said some- thing peculiarly annoying, and when he had replied so sharply, she said : ‘Yes, I mean it, Simeon Sayles. I get so sick and tired of your eternal scolding and blaming that I just wish sometimes you’d shut your mouth and never open it again while yon live.”’ ‘“You do, hey ?”’ ‘Yes, I do.” There was sullen silence in the room for three or four minutes; the wrinkles on Simeon’s brow deepened and his lips were pressed more and more tightly together. Suddenly he opened them with a snap and and a defiant toss of the head. “Very well, Myra Sayles, I will ‘shut up,’ and I'll stay ‘shut up,’ and you’ll see how you like it.” “I'll have some peace, then,’ replied Myra, shortly. Yet she looked at her brother curiously. The Sayleses were noted in the country roundabout for rigidly adhering to every resolution they made. The thought now came into Myra’s mind, “Will he do it?” She had not meant him to take her re- mark literally. Simeon was as iron-willed as any of the family, and yet Myra felt that he could not keep such a vow long. It was necessary for him to talk. So she said : “I guess you'll be gabbling away fast enough before night. There’s no such good luck as your keeping still very long.” Simeon made no reply, but took his old straw hat from a nail behind the door and went out into the barnyard, walking very erect, but with little jerks, indicating that the Sayles temper was high in him. “Now he’ll go out to the barn and putch around out there awhile, and maybe putch all evening in the house, and then talk a blue streak all day to-morow to make up for the time he’s lost keeping still. I de- clare, if the men folks can’t be the trying- est !”’ She stitched away steadily on the sheet she was turning until the clock struck six, when she jumped up hastily. “‘Mercy,’’ she exclaimed, “I'd no idea it was so late! I hope to goodness the fire hasn’t gone out. I must get the kettle on and supper ready. I did intend making some of the flannel cakes Simeon likes so much, to put him in a good humor, but I don’t believe Ishall have time now.” Nevertheless, there was a plate of steam- ing hot flannel cakes” and a bowl of maple syrup before Simeon’s plate when he came in to supper half an hour later. He ate the cakes in stubborn silence. ‘Are you going over to Seth Badger’s after supper,” Myra asked, ‘‘tosee him about helping you cut that grass to-mor- row ?”’ After waiting in vain for the answer, Myra said : “I want to know it if you do go, because I want to send Mrs. Badger a waist pattern of hers I borrowed last week.” No reply from Simeon. His sister gave her head an impatient toss, and they finish- ed the meal in silence. When it was done Simeon went to a little table in a corner of the room, pulled out the drawer, and took from it a scrap of blank paper and a stub of a lead pencil. Myra took the supper dishes into the kitchen; when she came into the room Simeon handed her the scrap of paper. On it was written : ‘I’m a-going over to Badger’s now.”’ Myra dropped the bit of paper to the floor and stared hard at her brother. ‘‘Well, Simeon !’” she said, at last. ‘I call this carrying matters pretty far. Be- fore I'd make myself so ridiculous, I’'d— ‘What you going to do when you get over to Badger’'s? You’ll look smart writing out what you've got to say, when you’ve got as good a tongue 1m your head as any- body.” Simeon made no reply, but picked up the bit of pencil and wrote on another scrap of paper : ‘*Whare 1s that patern ?’’ ‘I think you’d better learn to spell be- fore you go to conversing in writing— spelling ‘where’ with an ‘a,’ and ‘pattern’ with only one ’t I” If you don’t get sick and tired of this sort of tomfoolery before two days, I miss my guess, Simeon Say- les !’* Whether he grew tired of it or not, Simeon Sayles said all he had to say in writing from that time forth. His only reply to his sister’s ridicule and remon- strance was written in these words : “You sed you wisht I'd shut up my month and keep it shut, and I’m a-going to do it.” He bought a little blank book, in which he kept a pencil, and all his communica- tions to the world and to individuals were made through the medium of this book and pencil. The neighbors said that ‘‘the Sayles al- ways were a queer lot, anyway;’ that some of Simeon’s ancestors had been rather eccentric, and that Simeon himself had never seemed quite like other men. No matter how true this may have been, his sister Myra was a thoroughly well-balanced woman, with a large fund of strong com- mon sense, and her brother’s freak caused her great secret mortification and distress, although she had declared at the beginning of it : *‘It will be an actual rest to me to get rid of your eternal scolding !”’ ‘But Simeon had not scelded ‘‘eternal- ly,”” as Myra felt obliged to confess to her- self in her reflective moments. He was, indeed, somewhat infirm of temper, and sometimes gave himself up to prolonged fits of petulance, but there had been days and even weeks at a time when Simeon had been as serene of mind and as companion- able as any man. He and his sister Myra had sat side by side on the little porch at the front door of their old red farm house throughout many a peaceful summer evening, quietly talking over the past and the future. The long winter evenings had often been filled with a quiet happiness and peace for them both, as they sat at the same hearthstone which their parents had sat, Myra with her knitting and Simeon reading aloud or smoking his pipe in peace. They had nearly always eaten their meals in har- mony; and now, as they sat at the table facing each other in hard, cold silence, there were times when, although neither would have confessed it to the other their food almost choked them. ‘This freak of higis harder to put up with at the table than at any other place or time, ’’ his sister confessed toa sympa- thetic neighbor. ‘‘Sometimes it just seems as if I'd fly. There he sits as mum as a grindstone. Sometimes I try to rattle away just as if nothing was the matter, but I can never keep it up very long. I’ve tried all sorts of little tricks to catch him unawares and make him speak once, but he won’t be caught. One day, just when he’d come in from the field, I smelt some- thing burning so strong that I said: ‘I do believe the house is on fire,” and he opened his mouth as if to speak, and then clapped it shut again and whipped out that abomin- able little book and wrote : ‘“Whare ?’ “I was so put out that I flung the book clear out into the gooseberry bushes. I really doubt if he ever does speak again in this world; and the prospect is pleasant for me, isn’t it??? The two lived alone in the old red farm house in which they had been born 50 years before. They were without kith or kin in the world, with the exception of a much younger sister named Hope, who had married a prosperous farmer and had gone out west to live. It had been a time of great sorrow to them when this pretty, young sister had married Henry Norton and gone from the old house. They re- joiced in her happiness, of course, and were quite sure that Hope had ‘‘done well,”’ but it was none the less hard to give her up. She was only 21 years old at the time, and so much younger than her brother and sister that their affection for her was much like that of a father and a mother for an only child. They had lavished the tender- est love of their lives on Hope, and their affection had not lessened by her absence- In the years since they had seen Hope’s pretty face and heard her cheery voice they often talked of her. Myra had always stood as a strong wall between Hope and harm or trouble of any kind, and this loving thoughtfulness had kept her from writinga word to her sister about her brother’s strange silence. “I wouldn’t have Hope know it for any- thing,’”’ Myra had said; ‘‘it would worry the child so. And there’s no danger of Simeon writing it. He’d be ashamed to.”’ During all of the fall and through one whole long, wretched winter the iron-will- ed Simeon kept his resolve not to speak, and a decided shake of his head or a writ- ten ‘‘No’’ was his reply to Myra’s oft-re- peated question : ‘Don’t you ever intend to speak again ?”’ One day in May a neighbor coming from the town brought Myra a letter that gave to her troubled heart the wildest thrill of joy it bad known for many a day. Hope was coming home! She had written to say that she would arrive on Wednesday of the following week with her little girl of three years, and that they would spend the entire summer in the old home. Catching up her sunbonnet, Myra ran all the way to the distant field in which Simeon was at work, holding the letter out as she ran and calling out before she reach- ed him: ‘0 Simeon! Simeon! A letter from Hope! She’s coming home! She’ll be here next week with her little Grace, that we’ve never seen! Only think of it— Hope’s coming home !”’ Simeon was plowing. He reined up his horses with a jerk, and opened and shut his mouth three or four times; but no sound came from his lips. His face wore a half-wild, half-frightened look, and his hand trembled as he held it out for the letter. “Simeon ! Simeon!" cried Myra, with quivering voice and tearful eyes, ‘‘surely you’ll have to speak now !”’ He shook his head slowly and sadly as he sat down on the plow to read the letter. He handed it back in silence and turned away his head when he saw the tears streaming down Myra’s cheeks, and he bit his lip until it almost bled when he heard her sob as she turned to go back to the house. When he came to dinner he read the let- ter again, but he and Myra ate in silence. Hope came a week from that day. Myra went to the railroad station three miles dis- tant to meet her. “It'll be better for me to meet her than for you, if you are bound and determined to keep up this nonsense while she’s here, ’’ said Myra. ‘‘She doesn’t know a thing about it; you may be sure I haven't writ- ten a word of it to the poor child, and I dread to tell her of it now. It’s a shame, a burning shame, Simeon Sayles, for you to spoil Hope’s first visit home, just to carry out a silly vow that it was wicked for you ever to make in the first place. It’s a piece of wickedness right straight through !”? A visible palor had come into Simeon’s face at the mention of Hope’s little girl. No one knew how much and how tenderly this little girl whom he had never seen had been in his thoughts. He was fond of chil- dren, and no child in the world could be as dear to him as this little girl of Hope’s. He and Myra had looked forward so eager- ly to the time when Hope should bring her to them, and they had read so proudly of her infantile charms and accomplishments as set forth in Hope’s letters ! He stole softly into the seldom-opened parlor when Myra was gone. The door stood open now, and all the shades were up, while the room had been made spot- less and dustless, and bright and sweet with Hope’s favorite flowers in the old- fashioned vases on the mantel. Several photographs of Hope's little girl, taken at different stages of her infantile career, were in the album on the parlor table. Simeon took up this album and gazed at these photographs, one by one, with unhappy eyes. He wandered round the house and yard until the time drew near for Myra’s return with Hope and little Grace. Then he went down the road to meet them. He had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile when he sat down by the wayside to wait until they should drive around a turn in the road a hundred yards or more distant. He had waited not more than five min- utes when he heard the sound of wheels and voices round the curve in the road. He heard the sudden, sweet laugh of a child, and was on his feet in an instant. At that same instant a man on a bicycle dashed past him. Bicycles were still an almost unheard of thing in that part of the country. Simeon had neverseen but three or four of them, and the appearance of this one whirling along at such speed startled him. Its rider sent it flying on down the road, and it. whirled around the curve, to the surprise of Miss Myra and to the terror of old Hector, the horse she was driving. The reins were lying loosely in Myra’s hands, and before she could gather them up old Hector jumped aside, rearing and plung- ing, and the next instant he was racing madly down the road with the reins drag- ging the ground on either side of him, while Hope clung to little Grace and screamed. “Whoa! Whoa, Hector !”’ cried Myra, in a voice so awful with terror that it frightened old Hector the more. ‘“Whoa, Hector, whoa !”’ This time old Hector pricked up his ears, for the voice that spoke was a firm, com- manding one, and the next moment a strong hand grasped bis bridle, while the voice repeated : ‘Whoa! Whoa!” It was a harsh stern voice, but it sound- ed like the sweetest music in Myra’s ears. It was Simeon’s, and Simeon was holding to the bit. He held it until old Hector came to a halt, and then he. turned and said, calmly : “Don’t be scared, Hope, child; you're all right now. Give me the little one.” He held out his arms, and Hope put the little one into them, saying as she did so: “It’s your Uncle Simmy, dear! Put your arms around his neck and give him a kiss, and let him hear how well you can say ‘Uncle Simmy.”’ A pair of soft little arms stole around Simeon’s sunburned neck; a soft little cheek was laid on his rough, bearded one, when she had kissed him twice she said : ‘Dee Nuncle Thimmy !”’ ‘The blessed little creetur!”” he said, winking his eyes and hugging her close to his heart. And when she and her mother were asleep in Hope’s old room that night, Simeon came into the kitchen where Myra was setting some bread to rise and softly humming a Gospel hymn of praise out of the joy of her heart, and Simeon said : “Well, Myra—?’ ‘Well, Simeon ?”’ “Well—er—well, what did Hope say, anyhow, when you told her ?”’ *‘When I told her what?’ Oh, about your—your—la, Simeon, the minute I clapped eyes on that blessed child I knew you'd just have tospeak to that baby ! So I never lisped a syllable about it to Hope, and she never shall know a word about it if I can help it. I wish you’d fetch me in a basket of nice, dry chips. The moon shines so bright you can see to pick them up. I want a quick fire in the morning, so I can have hot biscuit for Hope’s break- fest. She always was fond of them.’’ And Simeon took the chip basket and went out into the moonlight, his long- silent lips softly humming the same song of praise Myra had been singing.-—By J. L. Harbour, in the Youth’s Companion. A Mayflower Sixty-Sevemn. “I sat on the veranda of the hotel at Warm Springs, down in Virginia, last Sunday;’’ said the woman who has just come back to town, ‘‘and just simply put my manners in my pocket while I listened to the conversation of two women near me. They were both from Washington, and one of them belongs to a family that has been famous for generations for the magnificent hair of its women. The other is that most pitiful thing I know, a woman who won’t admit even to herself that she has grown old. They were talking about family, and roundly scoring Washington society for the mere moneyed nobodies it has admitted to its circles. ‘ ‘Now, there’s Mrs. X,’ said the woman with the famous hair. ‘She hasn’t any family.’ ‘“ ‘She’s a Daughter of the Revolution,’ said the old woman. ‘“ ‘That’s nothing,” said the first. ‘Twenty-five thousand women belong to that. It isn’t exclusive.’ ‘‘ ‘You're a Colonial Dame, aren’t you?’ asked the elder woman, ‘Yes,’ returned the other. ‘My ances- tors were Colonial Governors. Are you a Holland Dame? “The elder woman drew herself up with pride, and a faint color showed under the rice powder on her wrinkled cheeks. “40, no indeed,’ she said, with an inde- scribable air of coquetry; ‘I'm a May- flower.’ “A mayflower! And she must have bloomed for at least sixty-seven years. What it Means to Start a Blast Furnace. Archer Brown, in the Engineering Maga- zine for October says: Few people who have not actually run a blast furnace real- ize what it means to fill the capacious maw of one of these monsters. A stack of 200 tons daily capacity, running on 50 per cent ore, must have delivered to it each day something more than 400 tons of ore, 250 to 300 tons of coke, and over 100 tons of limestone, besides sand, coal and minor supplies—say 900 tons raw materials. Add the 200 tons of pigiron product shipped out, and we have a daily freight movement of 1,100 tons, taking no note of the dispo- sition of the slag. The mining of the ore requires the labor of 150 to 300 men; the coal mining, coke making, quarrying of limestone and transportation, at least 300 more. The furnace itself employs about 150 or more hands. Starting up a furnace of ordinary capacity, therefore, calls imme- diately for the labor of nearly 1,000 men; for the use of at least 1,000 railway cars and many locomotives; for perhaps several steamers and vessels on the lakes; for capi- tal, from the mines to the pig iron, of $1,- 000,000 to $2,000,000, and last, but not least, for a high order managing ability. Growing Poles. A few years ago a western railroad plant- ed 600 acres of land with trees, with the idea of growing timber for railway ties and telegraph poles. The trees have made good growth, but are not quite ready for use as poles, and some of the trees are now being cut out and made into fence posts, in order to thin the forest. Some of the eastern lines that are now hustling to keep up their tie supply might do well to follow this example. Oom Paul at Close Range. Daily Habits of the President of the Transvaal. 4 8imple Minded Millionaire. Kruger is a Devoted Husband and Father, and a Democrat of the Most Pronounced Type. It will be interesting at this time to know something of the personality and daily hab- its of Paul Kruger, president of the Tras- vaal, whose words at this critical hour de- cides the destiny of his country for weal or for woe. I first met Kruger at Pretoria in 1879. He was then 54 years of age, but as strong, lithe, erect and robust as the average man at 25. Kruger was then a poor man; in fact, at times he had hard work to keep the wolf from the door of his large family. He was suspicious of every person who spoke the English language as his native tongue. At that time the Boers were chafing under the restrictions of British rule. It was only after being assured that I was an American that Kruger became talkative. On that occasion General Joubert and others were with him formulating plans for an uprising against the British, which took place the following year and resulted in the Boers se- curing their independence in 1881. The next time I met Kruger was in 1894, at Pretoria. This time I had letters of in- troduction to the Transvaal President. I recalled to him the first time we met. He invited me to become the guest of his house- hold, and during the three days that I re- mained at his home I had an excellent op- portunity of studying the inner life of the Chief Executive of the Boers. Though he holds the highest gift at the hands of his countrymen and is reputed to be worth about $5,000,000, I found Kruger to be the same simple man that he was in 1879, when practically penniless and unknown to fame. His house is always open to the humblest Boer in the land as it is to the highest offi- cial. If anything, Kruger better enjoys a chat with the cronies of the old days than he does entertaining persons of high degree. A DEVOTED HUSBAND AND FATHER. It would be impossible to find a husband more devoted to his family than the Trans- vaal President is to his. He simply idol- izes his wife, children and grandchildren. To be seen at his best Kruger should be seen with his grandchildren around him. No one would imagine at that time that the old man playing with the boys and girls was the head of a nation and a democrat that has proved the master of English statesmen. His belief, too, in God is great for Kruger is a most religious man. The family altar isa very permanent institute in his home. Every morning before break- fast and every night before retiring every white person in the Kruger household must gather around the family altar. The President takes down the old family Bible, reads a chapter in the Boer language, leads in the singing of a hymn and utters a pray- er, in which he never forgets to appeal to the Divine power for aid in his work of state. He also prays for all his subjects from the lowest to the highest. The altar has beena part of the Kruger family for over a century, When his father treked northward from the Cape Colony the fam- ily altar was not forgotten when a halt would be made for the night on the Afri- can veldt. Unless matters of state keeps Kruger up, he is always in bed by ten o’clock every night. AN EARLY SMOKE. At 6 o'clock every morning an African servant takes a cup of strong black coffee and a big pipe filled with tobacco to the President’s room. As soon as he receives these he rises, drinks his coffee and smokes his pipe while he dresses. By 6:30 he is downstairs and looks over the Pretoria morning papers. At 7 o'clock there is a short family worship, and at 7:30 breakfast is served, which generally consists of ham and eggs and always black coffee, and such coffee! It isso black and thick that an American, unless he had lived in tropical climates, could not drink it. The Boers are great coffee drinkers. It is the bever- age of thecountry. Kruger isallowed, be- sides his $40,000 a year salary, $10,000 cof- fee money to entertain his callers. There is always in the Kruger kitchen a two-gal- lon can of coffee on the stove. It is kept hot for instant use. After breakfast the President, with his secretary, one of his nephews, looks over the state papers, which require his attention that day. At nine o'clock a special messenger from the post office brings the mail and at 10 o’clock the callars of the day begin to arrive. Kruger is the same toall; he sits at a big table with a huge cuspidor at his feet and a large pipe in his mouth. Coffee is frequently served. If the visitor cannot speak Boer language, the conversation is carried on through his secretary. Though Kruger can speak the English language, quite fluently, he has not spoken a word of English since 1893. During my stay in his household I had to carry on my conversation with him through his children. In 1879, however, he talked English freely with me. At 1 o'clock in the afternoon dinner is served, the old Pres- ident taking care to say grace before bread is broken. After dinner he takes a short nap and begins to receive the government officers at 3 o'clock. Heis served with toast and coffee at 4 o'clock, and at 6 o’clock in the evening the Presidential family sits down to supper. It is after supper that the relaxation from official cares comes to Kruger. If the weather is fine he sits on the veranda, with his pipe in his mouth, a pouch of Transvaal tobacco by his side and the cuspidor at his feet. Streams of callers come in to chat for a few moments. He is greeted with ‘Good night, Oom,’’ or ‘‘How are you, Oom, tonight?’ Itis al- ways ‘‘Oom’’ in the evening, and President during the other portion of the day. To all he gives a kindly answer, and when an old acquaintance comes along 1t is ‘‘How is it, Will’? or ‘‘John?” from Kruger. All days during the time of peace and recess of the Volksraad isbut the repetition of the preceding ones to him. When the Volksraad is in session a sentry stands at the door of the Krugar household and admits no one to the house but officials, except by the orders of the secretary, during the day. When Kruger attends any functions away from Pretoria he travels in a special train. He hasa private car which was built especially for him. Every precaution is taken for the safety of the President. A pilot engine always goes ahead, but keeps in sight of the Presidential train. A MAN OF REMARKABLE STRENGTH. Kruger stands over six feet in height, but is now considerably stoop-shouldered, but very wiry and possessing remarkable strength for his age. He never leaves the house without a large black stick, which he carries for support. It is a common oc- currence for him to walk about Pretoria unattended. When he does go out alone the children in his neighborhood—for the President lives in an unpretentious house set back about 15 feet from the sidewalk— gather around him and call him ‘‘Dear Oom.’”’ Often he may be seen walking along with three or four young ones trotting gayly by his side. Next to his God, country and family, President Kruger’s love turns toward the Americans. While I was at his house he time and again said that he would like to have a treaty with the United States. He was desirous of favoring them in trade rela- tions with the Transvaal, and which he has done in several instances. He refers to this country as ‘‘My big brother.” ‘I know,”’ he said on one occasion, ‘‘that the Ameri- cans do not want my country, and I can trust them.’’ MRS. KRUGER. Of Mrs. Kruger it can simply be said that she idolizes her husband. She is the su- preme mistress of her house and has a num- ber of native servants to do the house-work which she superintends, as if she were not the wife of the President. To sum up the character of Paul Kruger, in the language of the Afrikander, he has never funked. He did not funk when at the age of 17 he killed unarmed a huge panther and saved his sister’s life, nor when he cut off his own thumb to save his hand from blood poisoning; and Kruger will not funk in this crucial hour of his country. I believe that he desires peace, but he will not accept peace if it is to be purchased at the expense of the independence of his country. One thing may be assured, that Kruger will fight to the bitter end before he will give up the independence of his country, and in this he has the support of every Boer in the Transvaal. How Beef is Divided. The Most Expensive Portions do not Make the Most Nutritious Food. Beef cattle sell for about $40 to $50 a head on the ranges in the West and South- west, says the Chicago Record. These cat- tle weigh perhaps 1000 pounds, and are selling for $6.40 a hundred at the Chicago stockyards, which would amount to $64 a head. Dressed carcasses are sold for nine cents a pound to the wholesale butchers, and they divide the carcass into its several parts and sell it to the retailers. For some portions of the carcass there is almost no sale, while of the choicest portions there is not enough to supply the demand. Con- sequently the less desirable portions are sold at such prices as will attract buyers, and for the choice portions enough more must be charged to make up the deficiency. Wholesale butchers figure that a beef car- cass weighing 800 pounds and cut up will cost them about as the following figures indicate : Forequarters— Pounds. Per pound. Roast... ..00... 0 1614 cents Plate..... en 314 cents Shank.. 3 cents Chuck.. 614 cents Hindq Rumpo... 9 cents Loin 1614 cents Suet. 4 "cents Flank 3 cents SHAR. cue. oroieinpsecsaerien sim 32 215 cents These prices are the selling price of the wholesalers, with the exception of the roast and loin prices. To these must be added whatever is to be realized as profits. In some cases the prices of the inferior por- tions may vary from the prices quoted. In this respect conditions in Chicago are widely different from what they are else- where. In other cities the spread of prices between the lowest and highest is much less. In London ‘‘chuck rib”’ is sold at about 16 cents a pound and loin at 22 cents. In New York prices are much the same as in London. The peculiarity of Chicago seems to be due to the fact that the people have got into the habit of de- manding sirloin and porter-house steaks and rib roasts, and look with disfavor on the chuck and round steaks. There is a feeling of hesitancy in offering a guest steaks of the latter kind. In none but the poorer class of restaurants is round steak to be had at any price. This is neither econ- omy nor correct dietetics, for the forequar- ters, embracing the chuck portion, are more nutritious and better food than any other part of the beef. Of the hind-quar- ters the round is the best for food. Dealers in meats in Chicago have made attempts to increase the consumption of the parts other than the loins and rib portions, but have made little progress. The prevailing high price of loins and ribs should teach the peo- ple the value of rounds and chucks. Thus the high prices may prove ultimately a real benefit. Clothes and Shoes. We must pay more for our clothing and our shoes this year than we have paid for several years past. ‘We must pay more for our shoes because the Dingley tariff placed a duty on hides in order to enrich the great, grabbing Cattle Trust. We must pay more for our clothing be- cause of the heavy duties placed by the same law on wool and on woolen goods for the ‘‘protection’’ of our sheep raisers. And the increased cost will not be trifling in amount. Every overcoat and every suit the tailors say, will be advanced $5. Every pair of shoes that a year ago cost $3 will cost $4.50 or $5. Multiply these advances by the 70,000,000 people who must have several suits and several pairs of shoes apiece this year and the total will represent a very heavy sum of money which the law takes out of the earnings of all the people and gives to a favored and protected few. The thing is worth thinking about.—From the New York World. His Suicide Deliberate. Had to Kneel and then Strangle Himself to Death. Fred Hahn, fifty-nine years old, com- mitted suicide at Franklin, by hanging last Friday night. He lost his position on the railroad a few days ago and brooded over the matter until his mind hecame unbal- anced. After supper he went to the attic and threw a rope over a rafter which was only six feet from the floor. As Hahn was nearly that height himself, he was compelled to kneel on a box, which he shoved out from under him. He was found in that position by one of his chil- dren an hour later. On a table in his room was found a note addressed to his wife and children expressing regret that he was forced to commit the deed. ——A splendid record is that of the little Society of Friends in England, which, with its few members and slender resources, has enrolled and maintains seventy-eight mis- sionaries, who are laboring in India, Cey- lon, Madagascar, China and Syria. The number of native helpers is 1,035, with a membership of 2.730 and a total of 14,297 adherents. In the mission schools 20,869 children are under instructions. ‘——One evening four year old Nellie failed to mention her father in her prayer because he had scolded her. ‘‘You must pray for papa, too, Nellie,’’ said her moth- er. “But I don’t want to,”’ replied the little one. “But you must,’”’ said mamma. Dropping upon her knees again, she added: ‘‘And, for pity’s sake, bless papa, too, and let us have peace in the family.” The Reason Why. “No man has ever kissed me !"” Said Sarah, firm and grim. “You ought to make yourself,” said Doll, “Attractive, then, to him.” Our New Battle Ships. The successful trial trip of the Kearsarge added another first-class battle ship to the American navy. The Kearsarge is the heaviest of our battleships in active ser- vice, having a displacement of 11,520 tons. The. Indiana, Massachusetts and Oregon have each a displacement of 10,288 tons, and the Iowa a displacement of 11,340 tons, while the second class battleship Texas has a displacement of only 6,315 tons. While the Kearsarge is a little long- er than the Iowa and of the same breadth, she has a mean draught six inches less. She carries four more guns than the Iowa in her main batteries and the same number in her secondary. : At the builders’ trial some weeks ago the Kearsarge made over seventeen knots, and at the official trial on Monday for the first thirty-three miles she made a record of seventeen and thirty-two hundredths knots an hour; for the full course of sixty-six miles she had an average of sixteen and eighty-four hundredths knots an hour. The average speed for the full course was less than that of that Iowa. The Kear- sarge heat her contract speed (sixteen knots) by almost a knot, while the Oregon beat her contract speed (fifteen knots) by one and seventy-nine hundredths knots. The test as to speed was somewhat disap- pointing, but as to the steadiness of the great fighting machine and her lightness in turns and manoeuvers, points on which there was some uneasiness, the trial was more than satisfactory. The Kearsarge stands one of the largest and finest battle- ships afloat. Her sister ship, the Kentucky, and the Illinois, Alabama and Wisconsin, all of the same size as the Kearsarge, are rapidly ap- proaching completion. The Alabama, at the builders’ trial of August 29, reached a rate of speel of seventeen and two-tenths knots an hour, with weather conditions in her favor. With weather conditions against her she made fifteen and forty-three hundredths knots per hour, This gave her an average speed of sixteen and twenty- three hundredths knots per hour. Itis be- lieved that she will do better on her official trial, as certain alterations will be made in her firerooms. With the Alabama, Illinois and Ken- tucky ready for service, the United States will have eight first class battleships and one second class. When the Wisconsin, now building at San Francisco, is complet- ed we will have six battleships of the Iowa class, and when the Maine, Missouri and Ohio, each to have a displacement of 12,- 500 tons, are completed the United States will have thirteen battleships as perfect in every appointment and as formidable in armament as any in the world. In addi- tion to these are the three battle ships and three armored cruisers, as heavy and as formidable as battle ships, authorized by the last congress. It is noticeable that there is now no op- position in any political party to the plans for giving the United States a navy com- mensurate with her dignity as a world power. Politicians as well as statesmen realize that the navy is very close to the hearts of the people, and it is probable that there will be in the next ten years no great opposition to the naval programme which contemplates giving the United States a navy strong enough to resist encroachment from any quarter. A Few Simple Remedies. Drugs Which Should be Kept on Hand in the House- hold. Things which oe should have ready at hand in case of need are, first and foremost, essence of cinnamon. When exposed in a sick room it will kill the bacilli which are floating round. A decoction of cinnamon is recommended as a drink to hé taken freely, in localities where malaria or fevers prevail, for cinnamon has the power to des- stroy all infectious microbes. Peppermint is an old friend, but not on this account to be snubbed. Nothing is better for a bee sting than the application of a drop of peppermint. In case one is near the premises or apart- ments where there is diphtheria, the sim- plest yet effectual mode of fumigating is to drop a little sulphur on a hot stove or on a few hot coals carried through the rooms. In this way the spread of the disease may be stopped. A disinfectant to use in different parts of the house, which will sweeten the whole place, may be made for ten cents or less. Take one pound of cinnamon copperas and eight ounces of crude carbolic acid and dissolve in one gallon of water. Use fre- quently. A little carbolic acid added to the water in which burns, bruises and cuts are washed greatly lessens the soreness. After applyiug iodine to the skin, if it smarts too intensely to be borne, it is well to know that it can be washed off with am- monia. That there is a royal remedy for seasick- ness one is inclined to doubt, hut shutting the eyes at once when lying down in the cabin is a hint to the wise. Never look in the opposite way to that which the boat is going is an excellent plan. Nibbling a dry biscuit or an apple from time to time is recommended. French prunes, figs and lettuce are good articles of diet, and there iz wonderful virtue in hot water, taken as hot as can be, from time to time, from the first day of the voyage to the last. Maligned Siberia. Asiatic Russia is by no means as barren and deserted as is the general impression. The tide of immigration, during the past year 500,000 people, has only been equal- ed by that which poured into the United States in the past. There are vast tracts of agricultural lands, rich beyond belief, in Siberia and Armur, lands where the crops ripen in two-thirds of the time they do in France, for instance. Many indus- tries are also springing up, as chemical, sugar and paper mills. Moreover, there are vast coal deposits, hard and soft, and iron and minerals in abundance. Exclu- sive of the Ural fields there are 851 places in the Empire where gold is found. Will Cut the Rohn Timber. M. G. Brown, of Clearfield, will cut the timber on the John Rohn lands in West Keating township, Clinton county, for Crider & Sons, Bellefonte. This timber was purchased from Rohn, before his dis- appearance, by Joseph and E. I. Gilliland, of Pottersdale, for $5,000. The price paid by Crider & Sons was $7,000. Mr. Brown will commence operations within the next week. October. When the petal fallsand lies Wrinkled like a leaf that dies, When the flower that once was merry Sobers to the russet berry, When the rose and hawthorn draws, Slowly down to lips and haws, Tis the season birds are mute, 'Twixt the flower and the fruit. —P. H. Savage.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers