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Demorraic atc
Bellefonte, Pa., August 23, 190l.
A PRAYER.
I ask not wealth, but power to take
And use the things I have aright.
Not years, but wisdom that shall make
My life a profit and delight.
I ask not that for me the plan
Of good and ill be set aside;
But that the common lot of man
Be nobly borne and glorified.
I know I may not always keep
My steps in places green and sweet,
Nor find the pathway of the deep
A path of safety for my feet.
But pray that when the tempest’s breath
Shall fiercely sweep my way about
I make not shipwreck of my faith
In the unfathomed sea of doubt.
And that, though it be thine to know
How hard the stoniest pillow seems,
Good angels still may come and go
About the places of my dreams.
I do not ask for love below,
\ That friends shall never be estranged;
But for the power of loving, so
My heart may keep its youth unchanged
Youth, joy, wealth—Fate, 1 give thee these ;
Leave faith and hope till life is past;
And leave my heart's best impulses
Fresh and unfailing to the last.
~— Phoebe Cary.
FRED'S FOOTBALL SUIT.
It is impossible, Fred! But mother,
I’ve just got to have it. Don’t you see, I
can’t join the Eclectics if I can’t have the
suit, for Jack Hall wants to join, too; but
the boys would rather have me than him,
because I can play better. But if I can’t
have a suit, of course they'll take Jack.
And I want awfully to play with that
team, for they’ve got all the crack play-
ers, and I know we shall heat the Carson
Hall fellows. And the suits only cost six
dollars—shoes and cap and everything.
A look of impatience flashed over Mrs.
Cronover’s face. She had had a trying
day, with many things to worry her, and
here was her boy, her right hand man,add-
ing another drop to the cup of trials that
already seemed full to overflowing.. But
she waited a moment before replying, and
when she spoke there was no sign of im-
patience in her voice.
Fred, I have said that it is impossible,
but since you evidently do not believe i,
I will tell you why. You know already
that times are so hard that there has been
no work in your father’s office for the past
three months, and no signs of anything
better abead. But we have: not told youn
of the last misfortune—indeed, I have on-
ly known it myself for two or three hours.
She paused. Fred gasped, What, moth-
er! vaguely alarmed at the seriousness of
her manner.
The Second National Bank, in which
was all the money we were depending on
to carry us through the bard times, has
suspended payment. It may resume some
time, but meanwhile we have just sixty-
three dollars to live on. Kitty will go to-
morrow, and I shall do the housework,
with what belp you and Josie can give me,
and father will dismiss his last draughts-
man. But how does sixty-three dollars
appear to you, Fred? As plenty to pro-
vide necessaries and football suits also ?
I should say not! Guess we shall have
to live on sawdust. What shall we do,
anyway? Won’t grandpa lend us some
money ?
I do not think grandpa will let us starve.
But, Fred, would you be willing to play
football in a suit paid for with borrowed
money ?
Fred was only a boy of fourteen, and he
had not yet fully grown into that spirit of
independence which is said to be born in
Americans, but which seems to be largely
a matter of cultivation. He had never
stopped long to consider the source of the
money which bought him his comforts.
N-no, why no, of course not. Only,
mamie, Ido want that suit, and I’m not
going to tell the boys that I can’t have it—
not until to-morrow, anyhow. Perhaps
something will turn up. Good-by. And
snatching up his books, Fred darted off to
school.
Mrs. Cronover looked after him with a
sigh. Was he selfish, or was it nothing
worse than thoughtlessness that sent him
off with nothing in his mind but football,
when he had just learned of the financial
straits they were in?
Really, Fred’s apparent selfishness was
due to ignorance, rathcs than to other
causes. - Mr. Cronover, although not
wealthy, had always bad a sufficient in
come from his work as an architect to kee
his family in comfort, and to lay aside
something for a rainy day. What Fred
needed, and many things that he did not
really need, had come to him so easily that
he had scarcely had a thought as to how or
whence they came. SAR
Hence it is not to be wondered at that it
was some time before the information which
Fred’s mother had given him really touch-
ed him. But during the afternoon his
thoughts often wandered from his lessons,
and not always did they take the direction
. of football.
So the bank’s burst ! Pretty business !
Wonder how much father has in?
_. Then for a few minutes the history les-
gon would come in for its share of atten-
tion.
So mother’s sent Kitty away. It'll seem
queer to bave mother doing the work. I
s’pose Jo'll help some, and I-guess house-
work’s not very bard. Wonder what we’ll
have to eat! Shouldn’t think we could
afford much. And as for buying football
suits—whew ! aL
‘At recess Fred heard something which
set him to thinking again of the suit. His
thoughtfulness lasted until supper time.
Supper seemed a trifle different, with no
Kitty to. serve it, but it was a cheerful
meal, and Fred felt a little relieved to find
that there was enough to eat, although it
might have been a little plainer than usual.
‘Josephine, his twelve-year-old sister, seem-
trip to the kitolien. No one seemed bowed |
ed jollier than ever, and her brown curls
danced with importance every time that
she had a change to fill Kitty's place hy a
“down by trouble.
'* ‘Father, Fred began, hurriedly, with
rather a red face, if I can earn enough
money to buy a football suit, may I?
+. Tell me more abou it before I give you
an anawer, my boy.
3 ell. 7 0 Yeo ied Baker's sick. His
“father’s
4 & Fan
Iatlier’s janitor at our school, you know,
‘and "Ned h hy dust and sweep and such
things! Mr." Baker wants a boy to do Ned’s
work for two weeks. I'd have to sw
two or three hours after school, and I’
have to go early to dust every morning,
and he’d pay me three dollars a week, and
in two weeks I could earn money for the
suit. May I do it?
Mr. Cronover looked from Fred’s eager
face into his wife's gray eyes. What do
you say to the boy’s scheme, Lucy ?
It seems to me that that sort of thing is
not just the kind of work I want my son
to do, for—
But, mother, haven’t you always told
me all honest work is to be honored, and
that--
Wait, Fred, you go too fast! I would
be proud of my son as a janitor,if he swept
and dusted well. What I meant was that
breathing in so much dust is unhealthy.
Ned always wears a sponge tied over his
mouth and nose when he sweeps.
It you will do that, I won’t object to
your plan—if your father is willing.
I had thought you could help your moth-
er at home some, Fred.
Oh, I can, after supper, papa, and Satur-
days and Sundays.
Jo and I can manage the housework for
two weeks, I think, if Fred will bring in
the coal in the evening, said the mother.
Oh, I can do that easily ! May I do it,
then, papa. -
Yes, you may do it if yon choose. But
remember that you must not neglect your
housework or your lessons, and before you
decide to undertake ‘it be sure that vou
have the grit to stick to it.
Fred began his work next day. It some-
times seemed hard and dirty work indeed,
and he often longed to be out with the boys
after school. He did not hear any jeers
from his schoolmates. He was a favorite
among the boys, but probably he owed
part of his immunity from ridicule to the
fact that Ned Baker, the lad whose place
he was filling, was the sort of boy who al-
ways earns the admiration of schoolmates
and teachers, and he had made the position
of assistant janitor respected in the Lowell
School. ;
Three more days, just till Wednesday,
then I'll get the suit, he said to. Josephine,
as they were sitting on the back poach
shelling peas for the Sunday dinner.
I’m glad !' It’s splendid that you’ll be
in the Eclectics. I wish girls could play
football ! and Josephine split open a pod
with such spite that the peas shot far out
into the grass. :
By and by Josephine said, softly, Say,
Fred, don’t you think that bank’ll presume.
pretty soon ?
Resume, goosey.
Well, resume, then.
Don’t know. ' Guess not.
I just wish it would, becanse I guess
mamma’s working too much. Mrs. Mar-
ston was in yesterday afternoon. and the
first thing she said was, Why Mrs. Cron-
over, you’re not sick, are you? I never
saw you looking so tired and pale. Mam-
ma laughed and said she guessed the hot
day was ‘sponsible. I heard papa, last
night, try to get her to have Kitty back,
and I guess she works too hard. °
Fred’s fingers were working more slowly
at the peas. Does she say she’s sick? he
asked. ; :
No, but don’t you see she never bas red
cheeks now? And she goes sort of slow,
and—well, I don’t know, but I feel sort of
scared about her.
Why doesn’t she have Kitty back,
then ? :
She told papa she couldn’t ask ber to
stay when she didn’t know where we'd get
the money to pay her. There, sir, that’s
the very last ! ;
Fred carried the pan of peas into the
kitchen. Mrs. Cronover was working over
the stove. Fred stood and watched her.
There was plenty of color in her cheeks
now, bgt there was surely a look in her
face that he was not used to seeing there—
a look that made him ask : What can I do
now, marmie ?
Can you and Josie set the table ?
We can try it. Come on, Jo!
Fred furtively watched his mother at din-
ner. She bad lost again the pretty color in
her cheeks, and she ate very little. Fred
did not have as much appetite for his din-
ner as usual. During the. rest of that day
and in the days following he tried to help
more about the house. He watched his
mother, too, but blushed when she caught
him looking at her.
Wednesday night came, and as he went
home to supper with his six dollars in his
pocket he hardly felt that he was tired.
Tomorrow afternoon he would get the suit,
and on Saturday the first game would be
played. He was so happy that he forgot to
worry about his mother that evening.
Thursday morning he was up bright and
early to help about getting breakfast, and
after that meal was over he ran down to the
post office to mail a letter for his father.
As he came out of the door of the office,
Dr. Larson, their family physician, was
just untying his horse, and asked Fred to
ride as far as the school house with him.
On the way they talked of varions things
—school, football, bard times, and just as
they came in sight of the school house the
doctor said : How’s your mother ?
Pretty well, only she’s working too
much. :
I'm afraid so. I saw her at church Sun-
day, and it seems to me she’s looking pret-
ty well worn out. Take care of that moth-
tr of yours, my hoy ; there aren’t many like
er. !
They reined up at the gate, and with a
Thank you, sir, and a touch of his cap,Fred
disappeared amoung the hoys.
The bell rang and school opened.
another quiet day for Fred’s corner of the
room. He thought about many things be-
sides the lessons of the day, and now and
then the words would ring through his
ears. Take care of that mother of yours,
my hoy. Bie :
As he was walking home at noon he met
Kitty. Hullo, Kitty, how are yon? Where
are you working pow ?
It was
Sure, Master Fred, I haven’ any place |
at all. There's more girls than there is
places for 'em. It’s ‘the hard times that
does be the tronble. I've just been up to
see your ma, an’ I tould her I'd work for
half what I was getting. It’s only two
dollars a week I'm askin’, but she says
she'd think it was wrong of her to pay even
that. And her lookin’ clane beat out with
the work! ..--. .... :
Fred’s hands were in their usual place,
his pockets. Something his fingers touch-
ed in one of these pockets seemed to burn
them, for he jerked bis hand out suddenly.
Then he heard~again Dr. Larson’s voice,
Take care of that mother of yours, my boy,
and in went the hand again, to reappear in
a moment with something which was
reached toward Kitty.
See here, Kitty, if you won’t tell any-
body, here's ‘six dollars if you’ll come to.
our house ‘and work three weeks to give
mother a rest. Will you, right off? Tell
mother you won’t be asking any pay.
Will you agree to that? = 0] ”
~ Sure, an’ Ill be there in time to wash
| the dinner dishes. My, but won’t your ma
be surprised ! And Kitty walked briskly
down the street. : -
Fred stood still a minute, looking at her
retreating figure. There goes my foot ball
suit, he said thoughtfully. Then he laugh-
ed aloud, and started for home whistling in
as cheerful a manner as if foot ball matters
were going entirely to his satisfaction. In-
eed, he was unusually merry at the noon
meal, which fact called out a comment from
Josephine.
Fred’s dreadfully happy because he’s go-
ing to buy his suit this afternoon. Say,
Fred, won’t you put it on tonight, and let
me see it ?
Can’t doit, Jo. I’m not going to join
the Eclectics, so I sha’n’t need the suit.
What? exclaimed Josephine with an
expression in which sarprise and dismay
were about equally mingled, while Mr. and
Mrs. Cronover looked questioningly at
Fred’s flushed face.
No, I’ve concluded not to join, was the
response. There’s Jack going to school. I
want to see him. Excuse me, please. And
off he went, and was not seen again until
the rest of the family had begun supper.
No one spoke of his being late, or com-
mented on the presence of Kitty, who
waited on the table in her old quiet way,
and no one spoke of the football suit. It
seemed rather strange, but it was a great
relief to Fred, who had almost dreaded
coming home.
Bus later in the evening, when his moth-
er and Josephine bad gone upstairs and he
was busy over his arithmetic, he felt his
father’s hand laid on his head.
My Boy, I'm very proud of you to-night
he heard his father say. Kitty has not
kept your secret, you see. And he turned
and left the room, leaving Fred still work-
ing at his problems, but with a hot face
and a quickly beating heart. ;
When the lad was in bed his mother
stole in, and putting her arms around him
gave him some little tokens of affection
which he rather enjoyed, since the lamp
was out and noone was around to see.
She said never a word, but after she was
Eope Fred found moisture on his cheek.
e was not quite sure whether it had come
from his eyes or those of his mother.
I wish I could tell you that the bank re-
sumed payment during the next week, and
that Fred got his suit after all, but it
would not be true. For although Mr.
Cronover had enough work come in so
that Kitty stayed on after the three weeks
were over, Fred is not yet a member of
the Eclectics. But I can assure you that
he is happy, in spite of that fact.— Youth's
Companion.
Big Skin-Grafting Job.
A Square Yard of Hide Replaced on an Elephant.
Belle’'s Painful Experience. Fitteen Other
Pachyderms Compelled to Surrender Parts of Their
Cuticle to Supply Her.
We bave all heard of skin being grafted
on to human beings, says a London ex-
change, but of all wonderful surgical
achievements that of grafting a square
yard of skin on to an injured elephant is
certainly the most wonderfal on record.
This latest trinmph of animal surgery
wags performed on a circus elephant called
Belle, which sustained a painful accident
when the company was on the move.
Just as she was getting out of a rail-way
car it received a sudden jolt; owing to the
brake failing to act properly. The ele-
phant was thrown down and struck her
shoulder heavily on a small iron cage that
torn off, and generally lacerated over a
space of quite one square yard in extent.
Inflammation set in, and was followed by
considerable fever, and the elephant, which
was the more valoable hecause she had a
call, was in grave dangerof losing her
ife.
WHOLESALE SKIN GRAFTING OPERATION.
The specialists dec
operation in skin grafting was the ‘only
thing that would do the elephant any good,
but an elephant’s skin is as thickas a
plank, so it was notan easy undertaking.
The great operation was undertaken
forthwith in the menagerie hospital, and
Belle’s own son was the first elephant se-
lected to supply new skin. The young
animal’s skin is peculiarly suitable for the
purpose, as it is tender, yet healthy and
vigorous. Moreover, as he is growing, he
will have plenty of new skin, and will not
miss a little purloined at the present time.
Belle was placed on the ground in the
operating theatre and secured with heavy
chains to immovable posts. The wound
in her shoulder was carefully washed with
the nsual antiseptic fluids. At the same
time an antiseptic spray was kept contin-
ually playing in the air. The new skin
was taken from the young elephant in
those places where he appears to have a
great deal more than be needs. Cocaine
was liberally applied where the cuts were
to be made.
A heavy knife was used to cut off the
course outer part of the skin. Then a ra-
zor was employed to slice off the tender
part that was to be transferred to the
wounded elephant. This was then taken
off in strips abont 6 inches long and 1
inch wide. Thestrips were pressed upon
the wounded surface and held down by
great bande of plaster.
FIFTEEN SKIN SUPPLYING ELEPHANTS.
In exactly six days the new skin was
found by the doctors to be firmly adhering
in Belle’s shoulder. Another elephant
was then called in, and rome pieces of his
skin were moved in the manner already
described. 5 ;
By this - time the raw surface wa so
greatly reduced in size that Belle began to
show signs of relief from her worst symp-
tons. Certain hopes of her recovery were
‘entertained from that time. :
Every week a new elephant will be call-
ed to yield up some of his skin for the sake
of his suffering sister. This will be con-
sinued until the wound is entirely covered
with skin. The elephants make the sac-
rifice in a cheerful spirit, and it is calcu-
lated that 15 will be required before mat-
ters are set right.
It is confidently expected that this oper-
ation will prove an epoch-making triumph
in the history of pachydermatous derma-
tology.
" British Surrender to Boers.
Fifty of French's Scouts Surrcunded and Captured
by Theron’s Burghers
The London war office has received the
following dispatch from Lord Kitchener,
dated Pretoria, August 16 :
‘“While a party of fifty of French's
scouts were proceeding to join a column
near Bethesda they were surrounded in the
hills by a superior foree under Theron and
surrendered. One was killed and three
ously.”
Lord Kitchener does not give the date,
but the casualty lists indicate August 8.
Reporting upon the engagement between
Colonel Gorringe and Commandant Kritz-
inger at Middelburg, Lord Kitchener says
that the British commander drove the
Boers north to Venterstad in confusion.
‘He asserts algo that ‘General French's
other column in Cape Colony is gradually
driving the.enemy.northward.
Another dispatohes reports that Lord
Hondweni, on the border of Zululand,
where General Botha is reported to have
concentrated 4,000 Boers. An important
engagement is expected.
—— Suberibe for the WATCHMAN.
was standing near. The skin" was ‘partly’
ided. that a wholesale
were wounded, Captain Bethheim danger-
Kitchener with a strong force is moving on |
About King Edward VII.
Personal Traits of the Ruler of One-Quarter of
the Human Race.
King Edward VII. of England reigns
over about 400,000,000 people, or a quarter
of mankind.
As Prince of Wales his income was
about $500,0C0; as King he gets about $5,-
000 a day.
The King, the Lord Mayor, and the
Constable of the Tower are the only per-
sons who know the password of the Tower
of London. This password is sent to the
Mansion House quarterly, signed by the
King, and is a survival of an ancient cos-
tom.
How long will the King live? He has
never shown the slightest fear of assassin-
ation. The insurance companies, however,
are rapidly approaching the limit of the
risk they will accept on King Edward’s
life. His expectation, according toinsur-
ance tables, is 14.1 years: Allowance for
moral hazard, or the chance of assassin-
ation, reduces this to ten years.
Between Jannary 1st and September 1st
of last year Edward went to forty-three
public dinners and - banquets, to twenty-
five garden parties and concerts, thirty
times to the opera and theater, to twenty-
eight race meetings; eleven times he was
in attendance at the House of Lords, and
be fulfilled forty-five official and charitable
engagements.
In his own set his favorite topic of con-
versation has been clothes. Tbe King is
an expert shoemaker, a handicraft he chose
to learn when a boy, being obliged by his
royal parents to learn some trade. He has
worn shoes of his own make.
Under “Likes and Dislikes,’’ the King
has written in the Duchess of Fife’s album
when I bave no public engagement to fal-
fill, when I can smoke a really good cigar
and read a good novel on the quiet; when
I can, like plain Mr. Jones, go toa race
meeting without being chronicled in the
paper the next morning that the Prince of
Wales has taken to gambling very serious-
ly and lost more money than he can ever
afford to pay; when I can spend a quiet
evening with the Princess and my family.
I am ubhappiest when I have a raging
toothache and have to attend some func-
tion where I must smile as pleasantly as
though I never had a pain in my life.”
In the matter of gifts the King has been
abundantly favored. They vary in size
from a cat to a hotel. Dogs, cats and
other quadrupeds galore bave been given
or left to the King by request. His name
has been mentioned in not far from a hun-
dred wills as the recipient. of tue family
dog, and more than one occasion an an-
nuity has been left by a testator in order
that the maintenance of the animal should
be no expense to the royal master.
One of the King’s treasures is a solid
gold dinner set, the most magnificent in
the world. It is valued at. $4,000,000,
and ie kept'at Windsor Castle. Another
unique specimen of its kind belonging to
Edward is the state carriage, which cost
$40,000. Tn"addition to being the most
ornate vehicle in existence, it is said to be
one of the most uncomfortable. Queen
Victoria» never: used ‘it when she could
avoid doing so, as it always gave her head-
ache.
King Edward's Champion, the Cham-
pion of England, is a young Lincolnshire
farmer named Dymoke. He is of a stun-
dious and retiring disposition, little given
to the gayeties of ‘the great world. It is
said be is somewhat exercised over the ne-
cessity of fulfilling the duties of his office.
This is to ride out of the hall where the
banquet is held after the coronation, clad
in the steel armor, and challenge all comers
to deny the title of the new sovereign.
He then pledges the King in the golden
goblet filled with wine, finally backing his
borse from the royal presence. Young
Dymoke possesses this honor by virtue of the
holding the Manor of Scrivelsby, which
ancestors have held since the time of the
Norman Kings. The Dymokes got the
manor by marriage more than five hundred
years'ago, and since than have acted as
Champion at each coronation.
Inaccurate People are Dishonest
It is not safe to trust people who are
habitually inaccurate in their work. Even
with the best intentions in the world,
they become dishonest. Before they are
aware of it, the habit of inaccuracy ex-
tends to their statements. They do not
not take pains to be thorough in anything
they undertake, even in clearly expressing
the truth.
These people never carry much weight
in a community, however honest in prin-
ciple they may be, because no reliance can
be placed on their words or work. You
cannot depend upon what they tell you.
If they are orators, they are discredited; if
they are at the bar, the judges always take
their statements. cum grano.salis; if in the
pulpit they do not win respect of the con-
gregation. In fact, whatever those people
do, they are placed at a disadvantage be-
cause of their habit of inaccuracy.
There is a great difference between just
right and a little wrong. These victims
of inaccuracy did not stars right. They fail-
ed to realized that what is put - into the
first of life is pus into the whole of life.
A pebble in the tiny stream will turn
the course of a river, 0 the seemingly un-
important habit of inaccuracy has kept
many a man from success by changing the
current of his life. ; » .
Accuracy, doing things to a finish, is
one of the most important lessons that can
‘be taught a child, because thereisa moral
quality at stake. The whole character is
often undermined by the unfortunate hab-
it of inaccuracy. Men whose ability
would have made them peers in their com-
munities have become nonentities, and
their careers mediocre or total failures,sim-
ply because they were allowed in child-
hood to form the habit of half doing things,
and of making half or exaggerating state-
ments. —Success.
Bonfire of $50,000 im Cash.
Fifty thousand dollars in cash left by H.
Y. Scott, of Faribault, Minn., who died
last Saturday, will be destroyed by fire,
according to the terms of his will.
Scott had accumulated about $60,000,
mostly in cash. To his servant girl he left
$5,000, bub his nephew, his nearest and
only relative, is cut off without a cent.
The bequest of money to his servant was
in return for the care she gave him during
his last illness. ;
‘After all my funeral expenses are paid,”’
says he in his will, ‘I direct that my ad-
bank, and in the presence of witnesses
burn it to ashes.”’ i
——‘‘Buger buys his ink by the ingful.’
‘‘That’s what his wife thought until she
went to fill the inkstand.’’
‘““What did she find ?’
*‘ She found that it wasn’t ink by a jug
ful.” Nove
we TEA
over his signature : “I am the happiest
thing was that he remembered about
ministrators gather up all of my cashin |
The Memory.
Was Suddenly Lost Without
Cases Where it
Apparant Cause.
One of the most-talked-of people in
Britain to-day is a young girl whose whole
past life is lost to her. Without any ap-
parent reason, her memory utterly vanish-
ed a short time ago, and she can remember
neither her family, with which she lives,
her name, nor anything that she ever did.
These wonderful memory losses are not
so uncommon, and one of the weirdest
cases was that of Mr. Quincey, a few years
ago. A middle-aged gentleman was found
aimlessly wandering about Wimbledon
Common, dressed in a silk hat and frock
suit, wet to the skin, for it had been rain-
ing heavily all night. Though quite sane
and clear-headed, he could not tell who he
was or where he lived, and could not even
recollect that there was such a thing as a
police station, which might help him. A
letter was found in his pocket—he had not
thought of that, addressed to him by his
son; but after reading it slowly he could
not remember any such person as the writ-
er—had never heard the name.
He was taken home, and was embarrass-
ed when received by his family, none of
whom he knew, though Se had left them
that day before quite in possession of his
faculties. He did not know what he had
meant to do. He was well off, cheerful
and contented, never had overworked, and
was a clever tennis player—and this last
was the only thing he found he could do,
except read and write since the adventure.
He soon got used to his family, and be-
came much attached to them, and also be-
came an accomplished golfer, as many peo-
ple knew, but to the day of his death, a
little while ago, he remembered nothing
before that rainy night, and practically be-
gan life again at the age of 41.
In several cases overwork has wholly
wiped out the memories of clever people—
for, whatever the cause, it is seldom a
stupid man or woman that falls victims.
And it will leave the brain just as fit as
ever for the future, though blotting
out the past, as in the case of John An-
drews the inventor of the Truefit circular
saw, the Andrews valve, and a dozen
other clever works that bear his name
all over the country.
One day when his family was away, a
batch of letters came to his house at Camp-
den Hill, complaining of important ap-
pointments he bad not kept. Next day
a deluge of telegrams, and then a string of
callers. Andrews was fou nd locked in his
study.
He had shut himself in, with a spirit-
lamp to cook his own food, as he some-
times did when tackling a big problem,
and slept on a couch when tired out. This
time he was found merely sitting and
smoking. He had forgotten all his ap-
pointments couid remember none of his
callers who came for him and stared blank-
ly at his own family. - When asked if he
would take dinner in the dining-room, he
replied : ‘‘What dining-room ?”’ He did
not know the way about his house, and
‘knew no more about London*than if he
had never seen it. Not one of his inven-
tions remained in his memory. Doctors
could do nothing for -him; and though it
was ever afterwards a puzzle to him that
be bad a wife and family, he was greatly
attached to them. He picked up the
threads of his work, however, and turned
out another useful invention—the Andrews
steam-gauge—before his death in the dia-
mond jubilee year.
Still more complete, and odder because
there was no *‘clue’’ to it, was the loss of
Dr. Graham Hearne’s memory, the great
throat specialist and bacteria expert. He
bad successfully treated over 4,000 people
in his time, and three years ago—in July,
1898—he went for one of his customary
long tramps round Londen, for exercise,
returning, as usual tired ont. Next morn-
ing he awoke to wonder who he was and
what bis business might be. Here, again,
his entire family and circle of friends con-
veyed no memory to him; but he remem-
bered one thing in the blank page of his
past life—his dog, and its name, Poppy.
They were great friends. Yet though, his
brother had given him Poppy, the brother
himself was a complete stranger to the
doctor’s mind since that night. Of his
medical knowledge, which was enormous,
he remembered nothing, and hardly
seemed to know a vein from a nerve. But
be took up a study entirely new to him—
architecture—and mastered itin a most
wonderful way within a year. He was
good company, kindly, sane in every way,
and was the only case of the kind in which
everything eventually returned for just
twenty-four months after his lost memory
returned to him rapidly. Within six
months more he knew everybody he
had forgotten, dropped architecture, and
took up medicine again. He died only
three months ago, as sound in brain as he
had ever been. i
It was one of these strange memory
freaks that was the cause of the ‘great run
on Gresford & Co.’s bank in Lombard
street. A gentleman was found in a train
that ran into Queen street station, Glascow,
who seemed to know nothing about his
ticket, or any other matter of importance.
The ticket was found in his pocket, but he
could not say who he was, where he came
from or where he wanted to go. He had
ample money was presently discovered, af-
ter as much trouble as though he had been
an unidentified ‘‘body,’’ that he was Mr.
Gresford, the popular chairman of Gresford
& Co.'s bank. Now the news got into the
papers, and it gave rise toa rumor that
there was something wrong with the bank.
The result was the ‘‘run’’ on Gresford’s,
in which crowds of anxious peo le gather-
ed, drawing out many thousands in a few
hours. a
The hank, of course, was as sound asa
rock, and there semed no sort of reason for
the strange loss of memory the chairman,
who was always cheery and contented, and
had no worries of any sort. The stran st
a
the members of his family, but had no
recollection of the other half; and as for
the bank and its affairs, they were a closed
book to him. "Two years later, however, he
regained part of his memory ; but that mem-
orable journey north never found its
place in his mind. g
How He Loved Her.
A negro man went into Mr. E—'s of-
fice for the purpose of instituting a divorce |
Mr. E——proceed- |
suit against his wife.
ed to question him as to his grounds for
complaint. Noticing that the man’s voice
failed him, Mr. E——Ilooked up from his
pers and saw that big tears were running
own over the cheeks of the applicant for
divorce. Boi fe oa :
“Why,” said the lawyer, ‘‘yon seem to
care a great deal for your wife. Did you
love her ?"’
‘‘Love her, sir? I jest analyzed her }’’
This was more than professional dignity
could withstand, and Mr. E——Ilanghed
until the negro, offended, carried his case
elsewhere.—C. W. in Short Stories.
’
Laughter and Life.
It may be that some enthusiastic and
laborious German statistician has already
accumulated figures bearing upon the ques-
tion of length of life and its relation to the
enjoyment thereof; if so, we are unac-
quainted with his resalts and yet havea
very decided notion that people who enjoy
life, cheerful people,are also those to whom
longest life is given. Commonplace though
this sounds, there is no truth more com-
monly ignored in actual every-day ex-
istence. ‘‘Oh, yes, of course, worry short-
ens life and the contented people live to he
old,” we are all ready to say, and yet how
many people recognize the duty of cheer-
fulness ? Most persons will declare that
if a man is not naturally cheerful he can-
not make himself so. Yet this is far from
being the case, and there is many a man
who is at present a weary burden to his
relatives, miserable through the carking
care of some hodily ailment, perhaps, or
some worldly misfortune, who, if he bad
grown up into the idea that to be cheerful
under all circumstances was one of the first
duties of life, might still see a pleasant
enough world around him. Thackeray
truly remarked that the world is for each
of us much as we show ourselves to the
world. If we face it with a cheery accept-
ance we find the world fairly full of cheer-
ful people glad to see us.. If we snarl at it
and abuse it we may be sure of abuse in
retarn. The discontented worries of a
morose person may very likely shorten his
days, and the general justice of pature’s
arrangement provides that his early de-
departure should entail no long regrets.
On the other hand, a man who can laugh
keeps his health and his friends are glad to
keep him. To the perfectly healthy laugh-
ter comes often. Too commonly, though,
as childhood is left behind the habit fails,
and a half-smile is the best that visits the
thought-lined mouth of a modern man or
woman. People become more and more
burdened with the accumulations of knowl-
edge and with the weighing responsibilities
of life, but they should still spare time to
laugh. Let them never forget, moreover,
and let it be a medical man's practice to
remind them that ‘‘a smile sits ever serene
upon the face of Wisdom.”>—London
Lancet.
Circular Insanity.
A Medical Theory Upset by Chicago Physicians—Re-~
sults of an Examination of a Skull.
That the peculiar insanity of the late
Frank Howard Collier, the once prominent
lawyer of Chicago, resulted from a blow
received on the head from supposedly po-
litical antagonists several years ago was
practically decided Monday by several phy-
sicians, who removed his brain for the pur-
pose of a careful examination. The discov-
ery is of special interest from the fact that
it has been an accepted theory among the
medical men that the kind of insanity
from which ' Collier suffered—technically
known as ‘‘circular insanity’’—never oc-
curred except as a result of hereditary
taint. If the conclusion reached after the
first investigation proved correct, this
theory will have to be abandoned.
A section of the forehead several inches
square was removed and the brain taken
out. An examination showed that there
was an exostosis or hony growth, on the
inner table of the skull,to which the mem-
branes and frontal bones of the brain ad-
hered. The growth was an inch and a
half long and an ineh wide, and the points,
which were sharp, protruded nearly a
quarter of an inch. The exostosis, which
was not directly under the part of the
skull where Collier had been struck, is be-
lieved to have been caused by the inflamed
condition of the skull and brain membrane
around the wound.
The size of Collier's brain was remark-
able, and gave evidence of the immense in-
tellectual strength which he once pos-
sessed.
A year ago Collier’s skull was trepann-
ed but the operation showed nothing. The
incision, as was disclosed to-day, had been
made a little to one side of where the ex-
ostosis existed.
The Eye at Work.
and the Rapidity of Its
‘ 7
Recording the Number
Movements.
A very curious device has been invented,
by which it is possible to determine how
many times the eye moves in reading, and
how fast the movements are made. The
object of the instrument is to show in what
.cases reading is hurtful to the eyes, and
thus to prevent short-sightedness and
fatigue. : i
In a test of the instrument recently
made the results were curious. A man’s
eye was first made insensible to pain by an
application of holococaine, and then a very
light shell, with a hole in the centre, was
piaced on the eyeball and held to it by
suction. The shell was connected with .
light aluminum levers in such a way that
the eye movements were traced on a mov-
ing sheet of smoked paper. . Electrical de-
vices caused the pointer to record not only
the movements but the speed of each and
the exact time it took.
The tracings showed that the eye does
not move over a printed line continuous-
ly, but by quick jerks of varying length.
e eye returns in an unbroken sweep un-
“til near the end, when it halts occasional-
ly, as if to get ite bearings. The average
number of jerk movements in reading a
newspaper line is about three. A line
slightly less than an inch in length was
read without movement.
New Cause for Lightning.
An old colored preacher in the rural dis-
trict accounted for the lightning in this
way : :
Ever’ time Satan looks down en sees
de Lawd’s work gwine on, fire flashes f’um
‘his eyes. Dat’s de lightning. En wen
he fail ter hit a church wid it he lays back
en hollers. Dat’s de thunder.”
“But, son,’’ said an old deacon,
‘‘whar is Satan inde winter time? We
don’t have no lightnin’ den.”
The preacher studied a minute and then
said :
‘‘Well, hit may be, Br’er Williams, dat
‘hell’s froze over den.”’—Atlanta Constitu-
tion,
Barn for a Cigarette Light.
Boys Who Wanted to 8moke Cause Loss of $3000.
The young sons of Aaron 8. Kreider, a
wealthy shoe manufacturer at Annville,
near Lebanon caused the total destruction
“of their father’s big new barn and all the
‘out-buildings recently. They had secured
some cigarettes, which they decided to
smoke in the barn. . They were unsuccess-
ful iv lighting them with matches, so ap-
lied a lighted match to a bunch of hay.
[he flames spread so swiftly that the boys
barely esoa; with their lives. In the
absence of the town’s volunteer firemen at
a pionic no effort could be made to save the
buildings, and only the live stock was got-
ten out. The loss is $3000; fully insured.