Bellefonte, Pa., April 12, ’30I.
TIRED MOTHERS.
A little elbow leans upon your knee,
Your tired knee, that nas so much to bear
A child’s dear eyes are looking lovingly
From underneath a thatch of tangled hair.
Perhaps you do not heed the velvet touch
Of warm, moist fingers, folding yours so tight.
You do not prize this blessing overmuch ;
You are almost too tired to pray tonight.
But it is blessedness! A year ago
1 did not see it as I do today—
We are so dull and thankless and too slow
To cateh the sunshine till it slips away.
And now it seems surpassing strange to me
That, while I wore the badge of motherhood
I did not kiss more oft and tenderly
The little child that brought me only good.
And if some night, when you sit down to rest,
You miss the elbow from your tired knee,
This restless, curling head from off your breast,
This lisping tongue that clatters constanily ;
If from your own the dimpled hands had slipped
And ne'er would nestle in your palm again ;
1f the white feet into their grave had tripped,
I could not blame you for ycur heartach then !
I wonder so that mothers ever fret
At little children clinging to their gown
Or that the footprints, when the days are wet
Are ever black enough to make them frown
If 1 could kiss a rosy, restless foot,
And hear a patter in my home once more ;
1f I could mend a broken cart today,
Tomorrow make a kite to reach the sky,
There is no woman in God’s world could say
She was more blissfully content than I.
Bat, ah, the dainty pillow next my own
1s never rumpled by a shining head !
My singing birdling from its nest has flown
The little boy I used to kiss is dead !
—May Riley Smith in Baltimore News.
FOR THE SAKE OF THE CHILD.
The head surgeon and his first assistant,
a younger man by twenty years, passed
noiselessly down the long padded corridor
of the hospital, through the great entrance
door, out into the dimly lighted street.
No word had been spoken between them
for some time. Each was busy with his
own thoughts, both hoping against hope,
yet vividly conscious and subdued before
the coming of the great, grim enemy, whose
shadow neither years nor experience can
soften.
Outside, the young man pansed for a
moment to glance up at the broad, somber
sides of the building, from whose windows
countless green-shaded lights gleamed soft-
ly out into the darkness. Involuntarily,
his eyes sought the accident ward, where
the figures of the attendants could be seen
hurrying to and fro, dimly outlined
against the lowered shades. ‘‘Poor Drake,’’
he mused regretfully ‘‘he wasn’t half a
bad sort-so young too. But one can never
tell.” His voice trembled slightly under
its veneer of calmness as he addressed the
head surgeon: ‘‘You think there is no
chance for his life, dogtor—not the least?’
‘I'm afraid not, With the aid of pow-
erful stimulants he may hold out till morn-
ing, bardly longer. That was a bad crush
he got; it would be a blessing if he could
£0 now, only there are relatives, I believe-
and a wife. You knew him you say, be,
fore—did you know him well 2”
‘We were friends,” the other replied
simply.
The two men paused at the corner, in
the shadow of the hospital, where they
were to separate and each mechanically
took out a cigar. Turning to get the wind
at his back, the older man struck a match.
As the light flared up, he gave a start of
surprise at the picture that met his glance.
His eyes had encountered those of a illy
clad woman fixed upon him in the utter
blankness of despair. She was leaning
against a lamp post for support, a big,
loose bundle held tightly, almost convul-
sively, in her clenched hands. Her face
was white to the lips and her features,
which still bore the traces of beauty seem-
ed to be sharpened by intense suffering.
The old gray-haired surgeon glanced pity-
ingly at the hollow cheeks, the toil-hard-
ened fingers, the contracted chest. No
second glance was needed here to tell the
story of honest labor and privation. He
took a step toward her, his eyes softening
at the mute evidences of hardship visible
in every detail. Never during his long
life of human service had the appeal of one
of God’s creatures fallen upon him un-
heeded.
“What is it?” he asked gently, ‘is
there anything—do you need help?’
For some: moments the wild effort the
woman was making for optward calm mas-
tered her, but gradually the drawn look
about her mouth relaxed a little and her
lips quivered. Her eyes sought those of
her benefactor in that blank misery of sus-
pense that knows no hope, yet dares to
grasp at its ghost. ;
‘‘You—you are the surgeon of the hos-
pital there, are you not?’ she asked,
hoarsely, her white face growing the whit-
er as she went on : “Then tell me, is he
—is he—dead ?”?
‘You mean—"'’
“The man who—was—crushed this
morning—hetween the cars. I saw it ina
newspaper. - They had it all—everything.
Ob, my God—he—he is my husband!”
The last words trailed off to a husky whis-
per, and the woman’s head sank upon her
breast. The strain upon her nerves had
blotted out sight and hearing, even feeling,
for a moment. The next, she raised her
head sharply and glanced at the surgeon
with a thrill of fear. Her eyes clung to
his in a passion of despair as she strained
every sense to catch the reply. When it
came, his voice was low and singularly
gentle, as was its wont when in the pres-
ence of another's suffering. :
“No, he is not dead, but it is, I fear, on-
ly a question of time before he will he.
And you—you are his wife—.”’ His gaze
rested upon her half wondering, half sadly
for an instant before he went on: “I am
glad you are here. T suppose you got the
message—they sent for you, you know.
Come with me.”’
Turning, he addressed the assistant :
‘You had better get your rest as soon as
possible, Arthur Hampton goes off at 12
and—I don’t know—youn may be needed.’’
‘When he turned to the woman again, he
noted with surprise that her cheeks were
now shot with vivid color, and a bright-
ness, almost unearthly, shone in her eyes.
And she? The years of desertion and
neglect were all forgotten. He had sent
for her. Her heart beat almost to suffoca-
tion with the great, new joy that flooded
her soul. Back through the unfading
fields of memory her thoughts Ruin:
and once more she stood with him upon
the threshold of a world that was beauti-
fal and full of glorious promise. And, al-
though, at last she must meet him upon
the borderland of Death, in her heart was
no shrinking for the years to come beyond
the grave, his soul would still be hers and
there was only a step between.
At the door of the hospital she paused
and drew in her breath deeply. With a
sort of timid hesitation she glanced up at
her companion and smiled half wistfully.
‘‘You—you are quite sure that he—want-
ed me sent for?’ :
The old surgeon took one of her quiver-
ing bands in his and pressed it reassuring-
ly. ‘It was his wish,’ he replied. gently.
The next minute they were standing in
the great reception hall, blinded for a sec-
ond by the flood of light that gleamed from
innumerable gas jets.
“We. will just go up,” the surgeon
said, quietly. ‘‘No preparations need be
made. They are expecting you. Lay
your bundle on one of the tables and fol-
low me.”
Together they passed noiselessly through
the long, deserted corridors and up the
richly-carpeted stairway that led to the ac-
cident ward, The woman's heart was
throbbing painfully; a thousand memories
came flooding over her and there wasa
lump in her vhroat that almost choked
her. With a sudden gesture she pressed
both hands over her breast and set her
teeth, struggling to crush down the tide of
emotions that threatened to underminé
her self-control. Bat in a little while she
had gained the mastery, no outward sign
giving testimony to the tumult within.
At the door she hesitated, shrinking hack
involuntarily, and her hands sank to her
side, but only for an instant. With a
quick effort she pulled herself together and
they entered the room.
At first everything seemed to swim a-
round her and almost unconsciously she
put one hand to her head; then, gradually
the ‘mist cleared away and she glanced
with a sort of nervous dread toward the
cot on which the Idying man lay. There
was a drawn, sunken look about the face
that rested so motionlessly against the pil-
low, and the pale lips were already smiling
to meet the kiss or death.
The surgeon had moved over to a table
where a nurse was preparing fresh band-
ages and sat down opposite her.
Slowly, falteringly, the woman went for-
ward and knelt by the little white cot.
She took one of the wounded man’s cold,
nerveless hands in both her trembling ones.
‘‘Arthur,”’ she called softly.
The eyelids quivered for a moment, then
lifted heavily. A faint look of recognition
passed over the pallid features, foliowed
by one of infinite despair. The fast-dimming
eyes lingered tenderly on the woman’s
worn face for a long time, then roved rest-
lessly around the room as though in search
of something, and closed wearily again.
There was an unbroken silence of sev-
eral minutes. Presently, the door of the
ward opened and shut quietly and the
sound of soft footsteps echoed through the
room. The sharpened ears of the dying
man caught the sound and he stirred rest-
lessly on his pillow. For the second time
his eyes opened slowly and a quick look of
brightness came into them, then suddenly
died out, fear taking its place. With a final
effort, his glance sought that of the wife at
his side, a glance full of mute agony and
pleading. ‘‘Forgive,’”’ he whispered thick-
ly.
A glazed light stole slowly over the ap-
pealing eyes shutting out foreverall human
emotion. The next minute, another soul
had gone to meet its Maker.
In a dazed sort of way the woman re-
leased her hand from that other one fast
growing cold in death. She rose mechanical-
ly from where she knelt, and now, for the
first time, turned her eyes toward the new-
comer. For asecond’s space in which she
met the startled eyes of the other, her own
hore a wild, hunted look. A wave of sick-
ening apprehension swept over her at a
‘half realization of the truth. Then this
other—this woman with the delicate, flower
like face and fragile form with the infant
in her arms—she was the wife for whom he
had sent, and the child—his child ! ‘What
she had before not entirely understood was
all too clear now.
There was a terrible stress of silence.
The older woman noted the spasmodic
clinching of the hands that crushed the
infant to the mother’s breast, and the
piteous question in the eyes which the lips
refused to frame. Fora moment, a wild
impulse rushed over her to ‘denounce him,
his treachery, her own ruined life the for-
feit—the other woman’s—the child’s. Her
eyes glowed with excitement. Her breath
came in quick gasps, and almost uncon-
sciously her lips straightened into the old
bard line. She clasped her hands tight to-
gether in front of her with the gesture
women sometimes employ in a wild desire
for self-control. With a sudden; quick re-
solve, she raised her eyes, that seemed
weighted down by some physical burden,
to the face of the child, nestling close to 1ts
mother’s heart. She opened her lips once—
twice to speak, but closed them again
dumbly, while the tense lines about her
lips relaxed and hot tears rushed to her
eyes. Down the misty aisles of ‘memory
her heart seemed, all at once, to'echo’ to
the thrill of a happy past as she looked in-
to the eyes of the child—his eyes—with the
same light of love in their placid depths;
the same quiet softness. * * %
In a dazed, pitiful sort of way, she some-
how hegan to feel that she was no longer a
part of this life. The wild, despairing eyes
of the young mother still clung to hers in
an agony of suspense, yet she dare. not
trust herself to speak—not yet. ' One min-
ute passed, during which it seemed to two
men that eternity must have rolled over
their heads. After a while, the younger
spoke, but her voice was strained and un-
natural, the words almost unintelligible,
‘“Tell me—for 'God’s sake—are yon—
was he anything—to you?’ ky
' For the space of a few seconds the other
woman's face seemed robbed of all haman
expression; it was as pale as wax, as ‘pale
as that of the dead husband who lay so
near. She glanced helplessly around the
room with unseeing eyes. Then she moved
mechanically toward the door, putting out
one trembling hand to the brass knob for
support. When at last she found words to
speak, her voice was ‘curiously low and
sweet, as though somehow it did not be:
long to this world. ki wa i
“You don’t know how—how I feel for
you," she said brokenly, an eager flame
leaping to her eyes. her face glorified by
the light of sacrifice. ‘‘I—I loved him too
—oh, so much, but not like you, of course,
not like—you. This is the first time in
ten years—the first time I’ve seen him—we
quarreled and--he--I suppose yon know--he
is high spirited. Before that we had been
inseparable--he was my favorite--and I--
look at me--can’t you tell >—~I—I-—am his
—aister 17° slinBal audit 8 '
‘When she finished speaking, she turned
her eyes; full of fearful apprehension, to-
ward the table where the surgeon and the
nurse sat, but she saw no outward sign
there to indicate a single thought within.
With a final glance at the now weeping
mother, at the baby whose tiny arms clung
close about her neck, at the pallid emotion-
less face of the dead, with shaking hands,
she opened the great door and passed
noiselessly from the room; then down the
broad stairway as one ina dream, and
presently out into the still, deserted street,
pocket.
a bundle of unsewed shirts—the bundle
she had left on one of the tables—crushed
convulsively against her bosom.
For a moment, she glanced up toward
the room of death—the room where all
that was mortal of him lay; then she lifted
her eyes mutely to the star-sown sky
above.
‘‘For the sake of the child,” she said
slowly—‘‘his child.”—By Nellie Cravey
Gillmore.
Tried to Kill His Father.
John Gulick, Who Shot his Mother and Brother,
Thought He Had Slain Him, Too,
John Gulick, who shot and instantly
killed his aged mother and brother in
Kline's Grove, Northumberland county,
on Tuesday morning, tried to kill his
father, Samuel Gulick, who escaped, after
a desperate struggle.
Samuel Gulick is 73 years old. His wife
was aged 69 years. They have eight chil-
dren, all of age and nearly all married.
John and Philip were single. The four oc-
cupied the house, the brothers occupying
two beds in a large room. They were in-
telligent men, representatives of the oldest
and wealthiest families in Northumberland
county.
Their mother loved them dearly, and the
sons were on good terms until a few months
ago, when John conceived the idea that
Philip was the favorite of his parents.
Then the former grew sullen and frequently
disputed with his parents and brother. He
left home for a few weeks, and returned,
promising to be. more affectionate in the
future.
Last week the father told the brothers he
was going to build them a double house in
Sunbury, where some of their relatives re-
side. It was agreed Monday night that
the brothers wonld drive to Sunbury on
Tuesday morning to view the site of the
building.
Tuesday morning the father said that he,
instead of Johu, would drive to Sunbury
with Philip, as he was not feeling well.
and the ride would benefit him. To this
John, who had been ill-natured all morn-
ing, demurred, contending that Philip
should remain at home instead. His moth-
er then remonstrated with him for being
unpleasant. Philip went to the barn for
the horses, while the father went to the
sitting room for his hat, first telling John
to remain at home and plow the fields.
Mis. Gulick was standing behind the stove
when John ran up stairs and returned with
the revolver. He was wild with rage be-
cause he had to stay at home. He thought
everybody in the house wanted to get rid
of him, and he determined to kill the trio.
SHOT HIS MOTHER DOWN.
While his father was kissing his wife
good-bye Johu appeared, and, rushing up
to the couple, shot his mother. The hor-
rified father grappled with him and a des-
perate fight ensued, the son vainly trying
to discharge the weapon while his father
held him by the wrists. The old man’s
strength began giving way. He fonght his
son toward the kitchen door. When
against it the father by a superhuman ef-
fort flung the assassin from him and stag-
gered through the door. He held the
knob.
The murderer tugged from within to op-
en the door. He could not. Then he
made his exit by the front entrance and
stood facing the barn, whence Philip, at-
tracted by the pistol shots, was running to
the house. John hurried to meet him.
His father, who was hurring around the
house to warn him saw the brothers meet.
PUT BULLET IN BROTHER'S HEART.
Philip tried to wrench the smoking
weapon from John’s hands. After a brief
struggle John pressed the revolver fairly
over his brother’s heart and fired. As the
young man dropped in death the heart-
broken father shrieked in the agony of des-
pair and fell fainting to the ground. John
had paused to finish him, when he saw the
old man totter and fall. The murderer,
evidently thinking the bullet that killed
his brother had passed through the body
and ended the life of the aged father, fled
over the hills.
Harry Moore, a neighboring farmer, who
heard the shooting, summoned aid and in-
stituted pursuit of the murderer, of whom
descriptions have been sent everywhere.
Coroner Dreher swore in a jury, whose ver-
dict is that mother and son came to their
death hy shooting at the hands of John Gu-
lick, and that the murder was unprovoked.
A Pennsylvania railroad telegraph oper-
ator at a station near South Danville Tues-
day evening said that the murderer called
on him during the day and said there was
lots of excitement near Kline’s Grove, and
that he was the cause of it. Then he ran
toward Danville, where he has relatives ;
but he did not pat in an appearance
there. =
LaTeR—Remorseful, haggard and worn
John Gulick, who Jast Tuesday, murdered
his brother at their home near Sunbury,
was lodged in jail there this morning. He
was discovered in the spring house on the
Gulick farm. In this place he secured
his first shelter since committing the crime.
He said he was tired and had come back
home intending to give himself up Mouday.
Since the day of the crime he had roamed
through the mountains during the day and
at night went to nearby towns and begged d
food from back doors. He positively re-
fused to speak about the crime merely say-
ing he ‘was very sorry. To Chief of Police
Metler he stated that he had witnessed the
funeral of his victims from a nearby hill.
When searched the revolver with which he
committed the crime was found in his coat
————
Fair Warning.
A popular Cleveland doctor tells this
story of a bright boy, his own, who had
reached the mature age of 9 after an early
career marked by wild and mischievous
pranks. ob Hd Pitas ‘ ;
His restless nature has made him some-
thing of a torment to his teacher at times,
and one afternoon not’ long ago she kept
him after the others were dismissed and
bad a serious talk with him. Perhaps she
was a little afraid that her admonitions
were falling on stony ground. Anyway,
she finally said :
‘‘I certainly will have to ask your father
to come and see me.’’
‘‘Don’t you do it.”’ :
The teacher thought she had made an
impression. :
‘Yes,’ she repeated, ‘‘I must send for
your father.”’
“You'd better not, said the boy.”
“Why not?” inquired the teacher.
*‘Cause he charges $2 a visit,” said the
scamp.
——Upwards of 25 graduates of the
Lock Haven Normal School have filed ap-
plications for positions as teachers in the
Philippines. The government is offering
great inducements, in the way of wages
and free transportation. Normal gradu-
ates are especially desired for instructors
as their training fits them for the work.
Paradise in Southern Seas Peopled by
Kindly Ones Who Delight in Love
Tales.
Captain Arnold Granger, a short, stout,
grizzled mariner, arrived in port at
San Francisco last week with his smart
clipper, the Belle of the Seas. And the
dougbty seamen had to tell of a modern
romance of the sea, rivaling the adventures
of the rovers of the Spanish main, rivaling
even the picturesque fiction of W. Clark
Russel. Following is the narrative which
the captain gave’ frequently refering to his
log as he spoke :
*‘It was in January, 1900, that we left
this port, bound for Columbo, Ceylon, for
a cargo of sugar. But when I arrived at
Columbo the condition of the market there
was such that a cargo of sugar was unob-
tainable. Rather than return 9000 miles
without ballast I decided to cruise among
the Samoan group of islands, in the hope of
picking up a load of tropical products that
would in a way lessen the loss of my use-
less trip to Ceylon.
CAUGHT IN A MONSOON.
“We were some time out, just about
crossing the equatorial line, when a fierce
monsoon of the South Seas caught us.
For days we fought it. The sun never
shone. The clouds rendered the nautical
instruments useless. The rigging stood
the gale, but one night we got among reefs
and the rudder was lost. We tossed about
all that night, but at dawn the man at the
lead reported that we mnst be nearing
land. Suddenly the storm cleared and
the water was calm. We drifted gently
toward as beautiful a palm heach as I have
ever gazed upon. There was pleasant,
gently rolling country back of the beach,
and still further back wasa range of
frowning mountains.
‘A mere sweep of my glass disclosed be-
hind the palm trees a hig village with the
sun shining brightly in low cottages built
ofa sort of terra cotta. Drifting gently as
we were, it was a simple matter to drop
anchor. This we did, and myself and Fe-
lix Harmon, my mate, and four of the crew
made for shore in a small boat. We were
observed. A great crowd of persons gath-
ered on the beach. We cocked our revol-
vers and held them in our hands as we
landed, ready to fire at the first show of
hostility and then put back to the ship for
our lives.
SMILE ON EVERY FACE.
‘‘But,”’ said Captain Granger, laughing
aud closing the log, ‘‘bless my soul, it was
an unneccessary precaution. There stood
the inhabitants on the beach, a light-
brown colored folk, men and women with
big, gentle eyes and smiling faces. Hand-
somer men I never saw or comelier women.
Later I found that the delightful climate
and the fine old surf in which they ‘bathed
daily and the simple habits of the people
had made disease a stranger to the is-
land. Old age is the sole cause of death in
that little paradise in the sea.’
The captain reopened his log. ‘Now,
owing to the faulty working of my nauti-
cal instruments, I cannot he very exact,
but the island is located at about 10 degrees
south latitude and about 125 west longi-
tude. Of course, I don’t want to be too
exact. You'll see the reason of that later.
“‘Well, because of our lighter color we
were deemed superior beings, and men
were never accorded a kindlier reception.
The old men were considered the most
honorable, and we were escorted to the
pretty, red sort of brick cottages of the
most venerable inhabitants. We were fed
delicious fruits and certain cooked dishes
that any hotel chef would give ten years of
his life to be able to produce. I noticed that
the houses of the older men were no larger
than those af the younger. That was the
key to the situation. There was uo dis-
tinctions there. All were equal, were
equally bappy. Food and clothing were
obtained from a common supply, and both
were to be had in plenty.
THEIR SIMPLE ATTIRE.
“Of course the clothing was scant. Men
and women wore soft, clinging robes of
white. At night sweet, cool winds blew
over the. island, making sleep delightful,
On the very next morning we came out of
the houses of the patriarchs to find that in
the night the natives had voiled so that
each of ‘us was supplied with one of the
pretty little cottages similar to those of the
inhabitants. Were we so inclined, we were
told, we might each choose a wife from
among the island’s most beautiful maidens.
‘‘One mouth passed amony these delight-
ful people. In all that time I never be-
held anger flash in the eyes of one of them.
The big mountains were the homes of their
gods, and these were all good, amiable
gods. The thunder was to them the laugh-
ter of their gods, lightning the kindly
flashes of the eyes of their gods and rain
was a blessing; the whirling of high winds
they listened to with dreamy eyes, like
persons who listened to music and were
pleased. There were beautiful beach
dances by the maidens, and at night the
men and women sang strange, sweet songs,
and the old men told legends, all stories of:
kindly deeds of beautiful friendships and.
of faithful lovers. Tt is an earthly paradise,
if ever there was one.
‘Daring this time my men had been
busy fashioning a new rudder for the Belle
from some very good timber obtained in.
the forests. The natives were always
around offering theirservices or seeing that
our men had fresh sweet cocoanut milk to
drink while at their work. :
“‘But when the rudder was fixed in shape
the men came to me in a body. They said
they did vot wish to leave the island. It
was not a mutiny. : Good feeling ‘and gen-
tleness were catching in that island. But
they begged of me not to ask them to go.
In truth, I did not want to go back to civi-
lization, with its cares, its strifes, its mean-
ness, any more than they did. Nor did my.
mate. ; ; :
‘‘ ‘Boys,’ said I smiling, ‘we’ll burn the
ship.” ”’ :
“They cheered so hard that the natives
came rapning laughingly to know the
cause, and when they learned they cheered
too, and at once began arranging appro-
priate ceremonies to celebrate our decision
to remain with them for the rest of our
lives.
EXAMINING THE ISLAND.
“My mate and I set out to walk into the
interior, in order to know more of the is-
land that was to be our home. As we ap-
proached the craggy mountain I saw dis-
colorations on the surface, that only an in-
stant’s close scrutiny was needed to tell me
meant iron ore, great, vast stores of iron.
Harmon had gone to get a drink at a brook
He came running back, white and breath-
less, with his tin cup balf-filled with yellow
dust and little nuggets,
“Gold ! gold I” he shouted.
‘‘He had panned the dust in California
and knew what he was talking about.
‘‘And those fools down there,” I said,
waving my hand toward the village, ‘‘don’t
know what they’ve got here.’
“The mate laughed :
‘I like to see you get them to mine bi :
holes into these mountains. the Liomes o
their nice, kind gods !”’
‘“Well, when we got back we told the
boys. Yon bet the Belle of the Seas wasn’t
burned. The natives hugged and kissed
us and begged us not to leave. But here
we are.
‘*We’ve come back for a cargo of arms
and ammunition.”
“Arms?" a reporter asked. ‘‘What in
‘the world do you want arms for ?"’
“Because,” said Captain Granger, his
eyes lighting with the fire of a lofty pa-
triotism, ‘those ignorant, happy idiots
down there are absolutely unfit for self-
government. In the name of the United
States, in the name of humanity, we’re now
going back to civilize them. That's my
reason, young man.
A Novel Apartment.
For the Use of the Unfortunate—The *‘Blind Room *
in the Library of Congress at Washington and Its
Frequenters Described.
In the congressivnal library at Washing-
ton, the large room is set aside for the ex-
clusive use of the blind. This is the best
equipped single-gathering place for the
sightless in this country. This hoon to the
blind, provided by a thoughtful, paternal
government, is called by those who use it,
*‘the national headquarters of the unsee-
ing.”
The room in question is situated on the
first floor of the huge building, and as near
the entrance as possible. It was opened
two years ago and was instaytly popular.
All the blind folks of Washington caused
themselves to be led there, and from that
day to this very few of the local ‘‘unsee-
ing,” who are able to get about, have
missed their daily hour in quarters of
which they will never kuow the real
beauties. They have been told overand
over again, how the walls and ceiling are
covered with decorations. by famous Amer-
ican artists ; of how the color scheme is the
outcome of good taste and artistic eyes ;
of how even the colors of the furniture and
the hangings are in perfect harmony with
the decorations. But these beauties they
can never enjoy through the sense of sight.
The imaginations can only furnish them
pleasure in the art beauties of the room,
for many of them know not even what red,
or blue, or color of any sort is like. Said
one of them to me : “I know a black light
and a white light, that is all, for I know
when I am in the glare of the sunlight and
when I am in a darkened room. But as
for the rainbow and its colors, what like
may that be?’
In addition to the local blind, the steady
patrons of the blind room, there come year-
ly a thousand or more visitors from all
over the United States. Here they know
they will meet others afflicted like them-
selves, and the natural sympathy of misery
draws them here where afflictions can be
understood by experience.
During inauguration week 125,000 per-
sons visited the congressional library, but
not more than a score of these visitors were
blind. Of course, Washington at that
time was no place for the unseeing, save in
an intellectual sense.
Three days after inanguration I visited
the blind room. Instead of finding the
sightless, I found an assemblage of people,
half of whom had. two good, seeing eyes.
It seems that every Thursday afternoon a
musical is given in this room for the pleas-
ure of those who cannot see their entertain-
ers, but who can hear. On the afternoon
of my visit, a lady, possessing a rich con-
tralte voice, sang for a most appreciative
audience. They said thatshe was the wife
of a representive, and that her brother had
lost his sight in a railway accident while
on his way to Washington, and, that since
then this lady had gladly devoted several
hours each week to helping the blind enjoy
their dreary days. She was followed by a
young violinist. Then came a pianist, the
organist of one of Washington’s largest
churches. Then all three, the singer, the
violinist, and the pianist, co-operated, the
lady’s singing being accompanied by the
other two on their instruments.
All the rear seats were occupied by the
seeing, all the front seats by the unseeing.
Of the latter, about twenty were present.
The sightless ones listened, with rapt at-
tention, and applanded spontaneously.
On all other days in the week, except
Sunday, the hour between 2 30 o’clock and
3.30 o'clock is the entertainment hour for
the blind. In other words every working
day, except Thursday, the day of the mu-
sieal, there is given here a reading, or a
talk, on some subject of interest to the
blind. Authors, scientists, physicians, lec-
turers, missionaries, ministers, and army
aud navy chaplains are in turns asked to
addressed the meetings. : ;
In charge of the blind ' room is Miss Gif-
fen, a gentle woman of remarkable patience
and endowed by nature with an abundance
of sympathy. To her kindly offices and
assistance, the popularity of the blind room
is largely dae. The room over which she
presides is equipped with everything help-
ful in the intellectual development of the
blind. Here are special typewriters, tele-
graph instruments, a printing press, a type
setting case, besides the usual books and
pictures in relief. After the wusical, on
the day of my visit, a blind lady kindly
gave an exhibition of proficiency in the use
of the typewriter. A young man, unsee-
ing, displayed wonderful talent in the use
of the telegraph key. Another set up type
and still another used the printing press.
It is these things and this room, put at
their disposal in this way, that helps to
| bring happiness to the blind of Washing-
ton, 'All state government should try to,
provide similar rooms for unfortunate ones,
and all libraries could bring happiness to
the afflicted in their respective cities, by
writing to the librarian of Congress for in*
formation concerning the establishment
and conduct of a room for the blind.
GILSON WILLETS.
[Copyright 1901, The Chistian Herald.)
Mry. Palmer a Politician.
Mrs. Potter Palmer, assisted by her sons,
Alderman-elect Honore Palmer and Potter
Palmer Jr., entertained the precinct cap-
tains of the twenty-first, Chicago, and ‘the
officers and members of tne Tascarora club
at the Palmer mansion in Lake Shore drive
last Monday night.
At the door of the salon Mrs. Palmer
stood between her two sons and greeted
the two hundred and seventeen men who
had helped to make her boy an alderman
of Chicago.
The footman at the door called the
names in stentorian tones and as each vis-
itor passed Mrs. Palmer shook her hand
and presented her sons, pronouncing the
names of her guests as though she had a
personal acquaintance with every politician
high and low, of the 21st ward.
After speeches made by Mayor Harrison
and others, refreshments were served.
—-Why did Pocahontas rush to save
the captive Englishman from her father’s
club? ;
Because she pitied him.
It must have been. It couldn’t be she
was afraid it might kill off all the Smiths.
The Heavens in April.
Stars that May be Seen by Amateur Astronomers.
_ Eleven stars of the first magnitude will
be above the horizon at 9 o’cloek this even-
ing. Named in the order of their brillianey,
they are Sirius. low in the southwest;
Capella, at about two-fifths of the distance
from the horizon to the zenith, in the
northwest; Arcturus, at about the same
altitude as Capella. in the east; Vega, just
rising in the northeast; Procyon, in the
southwest, directly above Sirius, about
midway from horizon to zenith; Betelbeuse,
in the right shoulder of Orion, who now
reclines above the western horizon; Alde-
baran, just above the horizon, between
west and northwest: Rigel, in the left foot
or Orion; Spica, at about the same altitude
as Sirius, in the southeast; Pollux, the
more southerly of the Twins (Gemini), at
two-fifths of the distance from zenith to
horizon, in the west; Regulus, in Leo, now
at the hour named just crossing the meridian
at three-fourths of the distance from hori-
zon to zenith. The very brilliant red star
to be seen just above Regulus is the planet
Mars.
Ouly 14 of the 20 first magnitude stars
are very visible to observers in the mean
latitude of the United States, the remain-
ingsix being too near the south celestial
pole to rise ahove our horizon. The three
besides the 11 just named which we may
see at one time or another are Antares.
Altair and Fomalhaut.
CONSTELLATIONS.
Leo, the Lion, may be recognized by
means of the “sickle,” which forms his
bushy head and shoulders, and in the
handle of which stands the star Regulus.
His tail is marked hy the star Denehola—
‘‘tail of the beast’’—of the second magni-
tude, at a distance from Regulus to the
east abont equal to the length of the Great
Dipper. This latter well-known asterism,
which forms the tail and hindquarters of
the Great: Bear (Ursa Major, ) will be found
to-night at the hour of our observation
very nearly overhead.
The four stars—Arcturus, Spica, Deneb-
ola and Cor Caroli (Charles’ Heart), a
star of the third magnitude, at about three-
fifths of the distance from Denebola to the
end star in the Dipper’s handle—form a
large lozenge-shaped figure known as the
Diamond of Virgo. Although this Diamond
is, like the Sickleand the Dipper, a modern
constellation, it is one of the grand land-
marks of the heavens with which the novice
in star-gazing should early become familiar.
Within this diamond, about midway be-
tween the stars Denebola and Cor Caroli,
is the beautiful sprinkling of small stars
known as Berenice’s Hair (Coma Bere-
nices). an exceedingly pretty field, it hard-
ly need be said, for the opera-glass.
Two very pretty though inconspicuous
constellations which may now be seen in
the southeast are the Cup ( Crater) and the
Crow (Corvus). The Cup—the more west-
erly of the two—consists of a semi-circle of
five or six stars of the fourth magnitude,
of about the size of the Northern Crown,
open to the east, which forms its bowl, and
a short line of three equally faint stars on
the right, which form its base. Although
a little lopsided, the Cup isa very passable
celestial goblet. The Crow is somewhat
more conspicuous. It contains five stars,
four of which form a trapezium, or irregular
square, somewhat smaller than the howl of
the Great Dipper.
Capella, in the northwest, has already
been pointed out. This star, the ‘‘She-
goat,”’ stands in the left shoulder of Auriga,
the Wagoner. Below and at the right of
Capella may beseen Alpha Persei, a star of
the second magnitude, at the centre of the
constellation Persens. Below and at the
left of Alpha Persei is Beta Persei. better
known as Algol, a famous variable star,
which is ordinarily of the second magni-
tude, but at intervals of a little less than
three days falls to the fourth magnitude.
The ‘‘nova,’’ or new star, which was dis-
covered in Perseus on the morning of Feb.
21st, by Rev. T. D. Anderson, of Edin-
burgh, is about equidistant from Alpha
Persei and Algola, a little above a straight
line joining these two stars. When dis-
covered this star was a little over third
magnitude. It increased rapidly in bright-
ness, and on Feb. 24th was fully the equal
of Capella. Since then it has declined in
brightness at the rate of about a half magni-
tude daily. It is doubtful if it will to-
night be bright enough to be seen with the
naked eye.
THE PLANETS.
Mercury has been an evening star since
March 7th, aud is now far enough out of
the sun’s rays to be visible on a clear even-
ing soon after sunset, almost exactly in the
West.
Venus will bea morning star, but in-
visible, until the 20th of this month. After
that date it will be an evening star during
the 1est of the year.
Jupiter, Saturn and Uranus are morning
stars, the last in the Constellation Scorpio,
the others in Sagittarius.
Mars, in the position already described,
is now the reigning evening star.
Clipped Ears, Nose and Toes.
Woon Infiicts Fearful Injuries on Herself at Toledo,
0.
Mrs. G. Brunschneider, residing near
Toledo, Ohio, occupies a ward at St. Vin-
cent’s hospital, and is in a serious condi~
tion as a result of horrible injuries self-
inflicted. i
About 5 o’clock Tuesday evening, armed
with an ordinary pair of scissors, she cut
off all the toes of her left foot, both her
ears close to the head and about an inch of
her nose. Sins
She then cnt out a portion of her right
cheek, inflicting five gashes in the left
cheek and finally began on her arms.
Beginning at the left forearm she remov-
| ed every vestige of skin, laying bare the
muscles. She also lacerated the right arm
ina horrible manner. !
‘Nothing was known of the affair until
her husband, who was absent during the
night, returned home in the morning, and
found her in bed, in a semi-conscious con-
dition.
A surgeon was called and she was taken
to the hospital. Her recovery is doubtful.
—-—Monday was ‘‘Settling Day,’’ as
April 1st has long been known by Somerset
county folk, and, judging from the crowd-
ed condition of Somerset’s Wall street dur-
ing business hours; it continues to oceupy
the most prominent place on the calendar
in the eyes of many people., All of the
banks report a larger volume of business
Monday than on any day during the year
preceding, while the clerks in the pro-
thonotary’s and register and recorder’s of-
fices were kept busy as nailers and were
obliged to work over hours in order to
bring their records up to date, says the
Herald. x Bits
~——Mann Brothers are bnilding an ax
factory at Yeagertown, Mifflin “county,
which will employ 100 men and will be
run independent of the trust.