BDemorrait Wacwan
Bellefonte, Pa., July 25, 1902
THF TWOFOLD PRAYER.
When grass is green and tall, lad,
When hills aie white with]sheep,
When whetstones ring against the scythe,
And the sauntering brook’s asleep ;
When trees are loud with flutter and song
And not a bough is sad,
When skies are smiling in God’s face,
And even man is glad ;
When June flees down her laughing lanes
As fast as foot can fall,
The castles that our fancies build
Are fair as Ilion’s wall ;
Yet this must be the boon, lad,
To ask the jealous years;
Oh, if you may, bring laughter,
And if ye must, bring tears.
For soon the grass shall whither lad,
And winter fetch the snow,
Soon other hands will hold the shear,
And other arms will mow,
Soon Helen’s face must yield its grace,
And youth must lose its Troy,
For love unlearns its pleasure, lad,
And June forgets her joy.
Oh, life must give this ignorant heart
The penance that it needs !—
How long a rosary seem our days
When sorrow counts the beads!
Yes, this shall be the prayer, lad,
We ask the coming years:
“Qh, if ye may, bring laughter,
And if ye must, bring tears!”
— Frederick L. Knowles.
OUR RED-HEADED KID,
Monday is a bank’s busy day. So when
the Fourth of July, or Washington’s Birth-
day, or some other of our increasingly
numerous holidays comes on Monday, and
the fifth day of July, or the twenty-third
day of February, or whatever day Tuesday
may chance to be, is burdened with the la-
_ bor of three days and a half, the bank clerk
takes off his coat and his cuffs and his
morality, and prepares for a tall exhibition
of elementary arithmetic. It is not well to
ask a favor of the cashier on such a Tues-
day.
Bob turned up at the bank on Tuesday,
July the fifth, and his reception would
have disheartened a person lacking as tough
an integument. As it was, Bob didn’t
seem to realize he had been turned down.
Mr. Martin, the cashier, had his coat off,
and both hands working like an electric
fan in a mass of filthy bills which Uncle Sam
should have redeemed and turned into
papier-mache hats and vases long ago. The
day was unseasonably warm, and the cash-
ier’s collar slapped limp and gluey upon his
apoplectic neck.
At intervals he turned his head away and
said something not meant for the teller’s
ears while he sprinkled the reeking mass
with rose water from a bottle on the count-
er. Most of the bills had been dragged
from deep pockets by members in the
thirty third degree of the great unwashed
fraternity, and, as the cashier had remark-
ed, they carried one hundred scents to the
dollar. But that was on a previous occa-
sion. There was no time for such levity on
Tuesday, July 5th.
‘‘Please sir, I’m lookin’ for a job.”’
We all heard it, but its origin was not
immediately apparent. The cashier con-
tinued counting dirty bills. Mr. Harvey,
the teller, glanced at the cashier and re-
turned to hie books. Tom, who was ‘‘on
the ledger,’’ paused with a check in his
fingers and his pen on the line, took one
swift look in the direction of the sound.
evidently saw nothing, and proceeded to
enter the check. The rest of us were en-
gaged with mercilessly multitndinous
checks and seemingly endless columns, and
did not even pause. The cashier had in-
formed us that if we wanted anything to
eat that night before we caved in, we had
better ‘’hit it up pretty lively.”’
‘‘Mister, I say I’m lookin’ for a job.”
This time we all stopped, supper or no
supper. The cashier looked up angrily and
beheld a small boy, not over washed, vil-
lainously red headed, and, judging from
the age of his face, stunted in his growth.
His eyes did not reach the level of the
counter. It was after four and the doors
had been locked for an hour. He must
have arrived via the window.
“I’d like to run your errands,’’ he eluci-
dated pleasantly.
‘‘We have no place for you,” said the
cashier shortly, and in a tone which made
further conversation on the subject ludi-
crous.
The boy retreated to the window and sat
down on the sill. At five he was still there.
He didn’t even whistle. He simply stayed
with us, his eyes roving around the bank
and taking stock, as it were. Af six he
had not departed.
We were working furiously. Tom had a
ten cent difference and was growing gray
hunting for it. I was some hundred and
fifty odd dollars out, and was rapidly los-
ing my reason. Jim hadn’t his checks even
entered yet, and was apparently going to
sleep standing. Art had his balance, and
from the top of a stool was yawning, and
between gaps smiling sweetly at my vo-
cabulary and egging me on. By seven we
were all waiting for Jim. He had his foot-
ings he said, and thought he bad a differ-
ence, but wasn’t sare how much. At this
brilliant announcement Tom took Jim’s
books and straightened things out. By
that time it was seven thirty, and I for one
was limp with hunger.
Fortunately the cash was two dollars
over, and we closed up for the night. As
the cashier philosophically observed, if the
bank was ahead two dollars there'd be no
trouble finding out who was short,
As we turned out the lights and shut the
shutters we came upon the boy still sitting
in the window. Tom asked him who he
was, and he said his name was Bob. He
gave no sign of needing sympathy express-
ed in either words or cash. Rather he gave
one the impression of being excellently
well able to care for himself. He left the
bank with us, and we separated in a wild
rush for something to eat. -
I was the first to reach the bank next
morning, but Bob was waiting on the steps
outside. He came in with me, helped me
open the windows, and would haye accom-
panied me inside the cage bad I not remon-
strated. I was not sure whether he thought
he belonged tothe bank or the bank be-
longed to him, but it was one of the two.
He took the rebuff, however, with a resign-
ed philosophy, and seated himself as before
in the open window. When Tom arrived
he stopped short on seeing the hoy.
“Well, kid, been here all night?’’ he
asked pleasantly.
‘“Yep,”’ replied Bob.
“Where ?”’ asked Tom at this startling
announcement.
“Ont front,’? replied the boy.
“You didn’t sleep on the steps !”’
‘Yep.”’
“Had any breakfast ?’’
‘““Nope.”’
‘“The duce !
night 2’
‘‘Nope.”’
“Why the devil—you must be near starv-
ed.” 3
““You’re dead right,’’ said Bob.
Tom hurriedly brought out a quarter and
gave it to him, telling him to go across the
street and: fill up. The boy obeyed with-
out wasting any time, and Tom came in-
side.
“Did you hear what that kid said ?’! he
asked me. ‘‘How about his sleeping on
those stone steps without anything to eat ?
It makes me cold inside to think of it.”
The cashier and Mr. Harvey had both ar-
rived when Bob returned. Tom related
the conversation, and the cashier spoke not
unkindly to the boy.
“What are you doing around here,” he
said.
“Lookin’ for a job, sir,’’ said Bob solemn-
Have anything to eat last
ly.
VieBat I told you we had no place for
you,’’ said the cashier.
“Well, I thought I'd just hang around
an’ see if somethin’ didn’t turn up,’’ he re-
plied.
He seated himself in the window and
proceeded to ‘‘hang around’.
His first official recognition came about
ten o'clock, when the cashier gave him a
gight draft to take around te Jim Clark for
acceptance.
“‘Get him to write his name on the face
of it,’’ he explained, as Bob left.
Twelve o’clock came and he had not re-
turned.
‘Takes that boy a good while to go
round the corner and back,’’ observed the
cashier.
“I didn’t like his looks first time Isaw
him,’’ said Harvey. ‘‘He looked sort of
slow to me.’”’
It may bestated here as well as else-
where that Harvey’s intellect has never
been known to produce an original idea.
Certainly he has never expressed one. In-
side the bank he is the cashier’s ‘‘me-too’’
in all things, however great or small. Out-
side he fills a like position for any one he
chances to meet. Harvey is loosely put to-
gether, and walks from his knees, as
though he feared a good full swing might
shake a leg off. Now it is a singular fact,
but I have never known a man who walk-
ed from his knees who amounted to a row
of brass tacks with the heads off.
Harvey’s parents have never ceased the
babit of calling him ‘‘Sammy,’’ and either
he has conscientiously lived down to the
name, or the name has conscientiously liv-
ed down tohim. Every night after bank
hours he rides his wheel slowly and ginger-
ly a given distance for exercise, but always
declines invitations to drive, because he
never feels comfortable with a horse ; they
are such uncertain creatures. He has like
views of sail boats. He is one of the bright,
particular stars in the firmament of the
Baptist church, and in his own opinion and
that of the Rev. Mr. Squires he holds a gilt
edged first mortgage on a mansion in the
skies, taxes and special assessments paid.
However, to give the angel his due, he is
a fair accountant and draws a good salary,
which goes to show that in this perverse
generation of vipers it isn’t always the man
who commands the money. I, for instance,
was getting only about half as much as
Harvey.
About 12:30 the telephone bell had an
unusually violent spasm, and I answered
the call. Jim Clark requested, in no vac-
illating spirit, that we call off our dog.
For a moment I thought Mr. Clark was
suddenly gone insane, and I was rapidly
formulating plans to hold his attention
while I sent for Williams, the constable,
when I remembered Bob.
““There’s a boy over here with a draft,”
pursued Mr. Clark; ‘says he’s from the
bank. I don’t owe the money, and I won’t
accept the thing, an’ hesays he’ll stay with
me till I write my name on the face. Says
you people told him to. Send somebody
over here an’ get him will you ?’?
I had to go over and bring Bob back, as
he declined to be ‘‘called off’’ by means of
the ’phone. He told Mr. Clark he wasn’t
that easy.
Everybody in our town knows everybody
else—at least by sight; and previous to his
advent at the bank Bob had not been one of
the population. Whence he came he de-
clined to state, simply saying he ‘‘come in
a box car.”
Aside from what we dubbed his ‘‘carrot
patch,” he was by no means brilliant, or
otherwise attractive ; in fact, he was dis-
tinctly the opposite. But fordeadly tenac-
ity of purpose, as Tom remarked, ‘‘he’d
beat the prize bull terrier in a bench
show.”’
So far as we conld learn he had made no
other endeavor to get a place. He came to
us first, it may be by chance ; he liked our
looks, and he stayed with us likea Vera
Cruz flea.
After his encounter with Mr. Clark he
considered himself a regularly constituted
member of the bank force, and wore a con-
stant and extensive smile, which varied
only in degree, and at times threatened to
engulf his countenance. The cashier sur-
rendered at discretion, and gave him a dol-
lar, telling him to make it last till Satar-
day. This he apparently did, for he never
admiteed being hungry from that time
orth. ;
That evening Jim and I hunted up Tony,
the combination janitor and watchman, who
slept in the bank, and arranged that Boh
should bunk with him. Bob took kindly
to the arrangement, and Tony was glad
enough to have his company at night and
help in cleaning up the bank after hours.
His weekly wages were fixed at two dol-
iars by Mr. Martin, and when Bob was
‘handed the money on Saturday he nearly
‘burst with pride over his affinence. Where
he got his meals at this time we did not
know ; probably at some cheap restaurant.
Snhsequently be was more or less adopted
by Tony and his wife, i
To say tha he made himself indispensa-
ble would be stating plain, unvarnished
truth. Jim and I early agreed that if Bob
was ‘‘fired’’ we’d have to resign, or, what
was equivalent, interview the directors with
a view to a raise. Up to his advent the
running of the bank’s errands had devolv-
ed upon us, and we were loath to return to
any such arrangement. Also as Bob lived
at the bank he always had the windows
open avd the place ready for business when
we arrived. This gave us an additional
five minutes in bed each morning, and dur-
ing the winter this isnot a thing to be de-
spised. The bliss of waking up in a room
where you can see your breath, and are
morally certain your water pitcher is froz-
en over, even when it isn’t, of looking at
your watch and finding that you have sev-
en whole minutes more! Champagne is
not like it. ‘
However, Bob had been with us nearly a
year, and had, as Isay, made himself indis-
pensable to Jim and me before he succeed-
ed in attaching himself to the bank as one
of the permanent fixtures. After the events
I am about to relate the directors would
have put up with the loss of the cashier, or
Harvey, or even me, before they would
have let Bob go. He’s with us yef, and
will be till either he or the bank goes ap.
Our bank is the only institution of the
kind in the vicinity. North one mustgo
six miles, south twenty miles, and west
twelve miles to find another place of de-
posit, and to make the east is the Atlantic
ocean. This beingso, the hank is unusual-
ly prosperous for a country institution,
paying regular dividends of twelve and
thirteen per cent. to its stockholders. If is
run conservatively, and is as sound and safe
as United States 4’s—almost.
Oar trouble began with the failure of the
Tidewater Trust Company of New York.
This bank was our city correspondent, and
with it, we had on deposit some $40,000,
drawing'a low interest and available imme-
diately in time of need. This amount was
nearly four-fifths of our ready cash to meet
the demands of depositors. The bulk of
our deposits was, of course, invested in
short time paper not available until
maturity —and not always then—
and some of the assets was in the form of
real estate, inconvertible except at a heavy
loss. There was something like $10,000
cash actually in the bank to meet $200,000
worth of deposits, and the day when the
New York papers announced the failure of
the Tidewater saw the beginning of the
only run our bank has ever experienced.
That it stood the strain was due only to
Bob. :
Fortunately the knowledge that we were
badly caught in the Tidewater failure did
not become generally known until after-
noon, and the $10,000 held out till we
could close the bank doors at three. I was
dismally doing ny work that night, won-
dering where I could get another place if
the bank went under, when I became aware
of Bob at my elbow. He looked more dole-
ful than I felt.
“Oh ! cheer up,”’ I said ; ‘‘it may not be
true. You look as though yon’d just been
measured by the undertaker.’’
He looked at me solemnly, as though not
certain of my sanity.
“We'll pull through yet,’’ I said.
“Hu’h,”” he grunted ; ‘'I ain’t worryin’
none about the bank. Mr. Martin’ll tend
to the bank all right.”
The cashier was his God, and before him
only he bowed down.
“iT geen me dad this afternoon,’’ he add-
ed dismally.
‘‘Well that’s good,’’ I said ; “bring him
around and introduce him. If he’s any-
thing like you, though, tell him not to
make a long call,”” I added. It is never
well to let a boy get the idea he is indispen-
sable, even when he is.
‘‘He didn’t see me, though,’’ Bob con-
tinued, ignoring my levity. ‘‘ Wonder how
he follered me clean here. Thought I'd
shook him for keeps. I bet he ain’t bum-
min’ ‘round here for no good, neither.’”’
‘You unfilial little barbarian,’’ I said.
“You don’t seem incrusted with smiles at
the advent of your long lost parent.’’
“Think you’re funny don’t you. Hh’h?”’
said Bob, and left me, and I promptly for-
got his dad.
There was a convocation of directors in
the bank parlors that afternoon, which im-
mediately converted itself into a committee
of the whole on ways and means. Mr.
Martin had sent off telegrams to half a doz-
en of the nearest banks asking for eo 3sist-
ance and offering to deposite bonds as se:
curity. Ten thousand dollars was obtain-
ed in this way from the Beach Grove Bank-
ing Company, and came in on the last train
south that evening. The only other bank
able to help was the Longford First Na-
tional, which offered $20,000 if we would
come and get it. The last train to the west
was gone, and there was no train back that
night.
Longford is twelve miles west of our
town over bad roads. If we could get this
$20,000, the cashier believed it would tide
us over and restore confidence in our ability
to pay dollar for dollar. If we did not get
it the bank must close its doors by twelve
next day almost to a certainty. Some one
must drive across to Longford with the
bonds and return with the money before
the bank opened next morning.
Our part of the country is as safe as an-
other; but under the circumstances, when
the composite eye of the community was
centered upon the bank, it would be im-
possible for one of the bank force to leave
town without the object of his mission be-
ing immediately surmised. And in our
town it is a common saying that a dollar
bill looks to some folks as big as a ten acre
lot. So it was not a hilarious party which
drove west late that evening. There was
too much at stake.
We had a two seated buckboard and a
good team. The cashier and I sat behind,
with the bonds in a valise between us.
When we were ready to start, Bob climbed
up beside the driver on the front seat.
‘‘Here, Boh,”’ said Mr. Martin sharply,
‘‘we can’t take you.”’
I gob to go,’’ said Bob simply, and he
went. Mr. Martin may have realized that
since he had decided to go it would be im-
possible to leave him behind. He would
have materialized at Longford from some
impossible part of the vehicle as sure as we
had tried it.
The cashier had two revolvers and I had
one. The other one of the four always
kept in the bank could not be found when
we were ready to start. However, wedidn’t
use those we had. We reached Longford
in good time, and drove directly to the
bank. The cashier had been advised of our
coming by telegram, and was waiting for
ne, We handed over the bonds, received
the cash in small bills, and started back in
good spirits.
It was near two in the morning when we
approached our town. I had had a bard
day’s work, and confess to have been near-
er asleep than awake. Still I heard Bob
say to the driver :
‘If anything happens you give the horses
one almighty cut an’ drive for town, an’
don’ stop till we get there—see.’’
The driver laughed. !
“‘Don’t get scared, kid,’ he said. ‘We're
‘most home now.”’
About one minute after this things hap- |
pened. :
The huckboard stopped with a jolt, and I
came back to the melancholy things of
earth, which I found consisted mainly of
the wrong end of a.44 calibre revolver. Mr.
Martin was seeing similar sights on his side
of the vehicle. I awa not the hero of this
narrative, and I freely confess that I put up
my hands—good and high. I didn’t want
whoever had the other end of that gun to
entertain any doubts about my intentions.
I was anxious he should know I was peace-
ful—extremely so. What the cashier did I
do not know, but I have my suspicions. At
the time my own troubles were the para-
mount issue. That .44 bor an almost speak-
ing likeness to a thirteen inch gun, and I
was completely certain if it exploded it
would blow the whole upper half of me off
into stellar space. I know exactly how
those Sepoys felt before the British gunners
pulled the lanyards, The upper half of me
didn’t want to go.
1 felt the valise lifted from my side, and
then we were told to drive on and not look
behind.
“It'won’t be healthy for you,” said a
voioe.
Bob had Janished. He sat in front of me,
but I had not seen him go. The driver
said he had slipped to the ground the mo-
ment the horses stopped, and we pleasant-
ly surmised he had been worse scared than
we were. We drove into that sleeping
town with our horses in a lather, and with-
in the hour parties were out raking the
country for the perpetrators of the ‘‘hold-
up.” We decided there had been three of
them. One had seized the horses and the
other two had attended to the cashier and
me.
The president and directors absolved us
from all blame after hearing the story, but
Mr. Martin sat at his desk with bowed
head. He had been with the bank{for twenty
years, and to know that the institution was
doomed, and that he was partially respon-
sible, was a hard hlow. I felt bad enough
nyee)l; but it must have heen harder for
im.
I bad known some blue times before,and
bave known some since; but for concentrat-
ed aniline and indigo, that morning holds
the palm in my experience. We were all
dead tired. We had worked under the
strain till we were mentally and physically
incapacitated, and then had worked on till
our nerve was gone. Then, too, it was at
that fearfully devitalizing time, the hour
before sunrise. If you have ever gotten up
at three of a winter’s morning, to go duck
hunting, and after walking ten miles with
a ten bore gun, have found no duck, you
can get some idea of our depression. Also
we had had no breakfast.
Things were undoubtedly bad, but if the
sun hadbeen up I think we would have
found some means of escape after all. But
in the dead, cold gloom of the hour before
dawn, I felt ahout ready for my coffin, and
the rest looked it. Every time the door
opened we looked eagerly up, hoping even
when we knew there was next to no hope,
and each time it was to be disappointed
again.
So two eternal hours passed. Harvey
was wandering around and acting like a
she-ass, of course, telling Mr. Martin not
to mind, and it couldn’t be helped, till it
was a wonder some one didn’t kill him. I
considered the matter with a feeling that
it would at least create a diversion and re-
lieve the suspense.
Jim and Art were discussing the ‘‘hold-
up’’ and telling each other what the cash-
ier and I should have done. Their conver-
sation did not interest me. They had not
experienced the thirteen inch gun. Tom
didn’t say a word ; didn’t even look at us.
I always did think that he bad good horse
sense, and now I knew it.
Half a dozen of the directors were sitting
around, talking spasmodically and in whis-
pers, and minutely examining the cracks in
the floor. I remember thinking that when
a gang of directors got together and didn’t
make any more noise than that, there was
some mighty heavy sledding ahead, and no
signs of snow.
I tried to sleep, but conldn’t. I had too
much to think about. There was nothing
ahead but three or four hours more work,
and then closing the doors and leaving the
old place, with the government sommis-
sioner in charge, and starting ous to find a
new job several steps down the ladder. Not
a cheerful prospect.
The outer door opened. I didn’t turn
my head. The spring that worked my
hope machine was played out. Then I
heard an unusually profane yell from Tom,
and he went by me and out the cage door
like a half back carrying the ball. I took
one look toward the door and followed in
similar fashion.
What we saw was a tramp carrying a
satchel —the satchel. Behind him was an-
other, nursing a badly cut right hand and
exploding steadily in highly colored lan-
guage. Aud behind both came Bob, with
a revolver at full cock and his face a pea-
green yellow. It took us about forty-eight
seconds to tie those tramps hand and foot,
and Bob put down the gun and came in-
side with thesatchel.
‘It’s all there, Mr. Martin.”” he said.
“I caught ’em ’fore they got it open. An’
—1I guess I'll sit down.”
He collapsed into Martin’s chair, and
that was the first we knew he was hurt.
We got him out on the floor and opened his
shirt, and Martin looked mighty lumpy in
the throat while we were doing it. I'm
not saying how I felt. I thought the kid
was done for. He had a blue black spot
high up in his left shoulder, and be’d bled
about all there was in him I should think.
Harvey came out from somewhere and
got ready to faint, and Martin sent him off
for Doc Richards, and Tom told him to be
‘‘pretty sudden about it.’’ At such times
seniority of office doesn’t count.
The directors were treading on one an-
other to fetch water and produce handker-
chiefs, and the president drew out a silver
flask and we gave Bob some brandy. That
revived him and he tried to get up.
‘I ain’t hurt much,’’ he protested. ‘I
just feel sorter empty— that’s all.”
He fell back weakly, however, and lay
quiet for a moment. Then he grinned hap-
pily and said :
“‘T knew dad’d be up to some meanness.
He don’t miss any chances.’’
‘“You’d better not talk, Bob,” said Mar-
tin. ‘Not now. Wait till the doctor
comes.’
“I ain’t hurt, I tell you,’”’ said Bob ag-
gressively.
“Say, it was great,’’ he said presently,
with another grin, = ‘‘I just walked in on
'em while they were pryin’ the satchel
open, an’ I says, ‘Put up your hands, dad,
I got you,’ an’ instead o’ puttin’ up the
way the books says they does, he pulled a
revolver an’ shot me. But say, I fired
‘hous the same time, an’ knocked his revol-
ver all to chunks. Gee, it was great!’
He stopped again from sheer weakness.
Then he looked up at Martin on his knees
beside him and said : :
‘Next time I’m goin’ to drive, Mr. Mar-
tin. If that blame driver had cut the
horses like I told him to we'd ’a come
through all right.”’
“Very well, Bob,”” said Martin, and I
think he meant it.
“There wasn’t but two of ’em,’’ continu-
ed Bob, ‘‘an’ the other one was seared cold,
so I just gave him one to pick up the satohel
an’ march an’ he didn’t wait for the count
neither. An’ dad knew when he was lick-
ed, too. That’s him now, ain’tit ?’’
He was bleeding to death, and I thought
the doctor would never come. It seemed
pretty tough luck - after what he’d done.
His parent was lying on his back, cursing
like an Irish gatling gun, and when I got to
the point where I had todo something or
make a fool of myself I hunted up Wil-
liams, and we kicked them both on to their
feet and put them in the lockup.
When I got back the doctor was making
his examination. It was a solemn crowd
that stood around and watched him. Bob
was the only cheerful one in the lot. For-
tunately the bullet had gone clear through,
so that there was no probing to do.
When the last bandage was fixed, Bob
tried to get up again, but had to be held
down while Doc Richards explained to him
that he would probably bleed to death if he
didn’t lie still. Then we put him on an
ifnprovised stretcher and took him up to
Martin’s. I waylaid the doctor.
a
“Will he get well ?"’ I asked.
“‘Yes,”’ said the doctor, ‘‘I think so. He
lost a lot of blood, but he’s pretty tough,
and with Mrs. Martin and the girls to nurse
him he’ll be around before long.”
I waited till I got one block from the
house, and then turned loose one long up-
roarions yell, and doubled for the hank
with the news.
‘‘Well say,’’ said Tom, ‘isn’t that kid
about twenty-four carats fine, though ? Lay
on MacDuff ! He'll be president of a bank
while we’restill footing columns. You see
if he isn’t.”
“I always did think that boy had some-
thing in him,”’ said Harvey. ‘‘He sort of
looked like it to me first time I saw him.’’
—By Frederick Walworth in McClure’s
Magazine for July.
Street Tree Planting.
In a former issue of Forest Leaves an ar-
ticle appeared on the proper trees for street
planting. The late Wm. Saunders described
the qualities of a good curhstone tree as fol-
lows ;
1 A compact stateliness and symmetry
of general form or outline as distinguished
from a spreading of pendant form, so that
the stem can be relieved of side-branches to
a height sufficient to allow the free circula-
tion of air below the branches and also that
they may not interfere with the comforta-
ble use of the sidewalks and trees.
2 An ample supply of expansive foliage
of bright early spring verdure, and rich
and varied in the colors and tints assomed
during autumn.
3. Healthiness, so far as being exempt
from constitutional disease, and ability to
withstand the many evils which city trees
have to encounter, such as reflected heat
from buildines, short supplies, at times, of
water, and the some of soil.
4. Cleanliness, characterized by a per-
sistency of foliage during the summer, free-
dom from fading flowers, and exemption
from the attacks of insects.
5. It should _bear removal and trans-
planting without much difficulty; not li-
able to throw up suckers from the roots; of
vigorous, but not excessive growth. A tree
of extremely rapid growth is generally short
lived.
6. The branches should be elastic rath-
er than brittle, that they may withstand
heavy storms and twisting gales, which are
more prevalent in cities than happens in
seemingly more exposed situations.
The City of Washington, D. C.,has made
a study of street trees and the following ex
cerpts from the report of the Commission-
ers in regard to the results obtained from
different species will be of interest :
Washington was a city of young trees
during the seventies, and in the spring of
1873 more than 6000 trees were planted,
consisting of silver maples, Norway maples
American maples, American and European
lindens, sugar maples, tulip trees, Ameri-
can white ash, scarlet maples, poplars, and
ash-leaved maples.
From 1880 to 1888 the caterpillars were
extremely numerous in the city, and op-
portunity was had for observing which
trees were mostly a prey to them. It was
found that the white poplar and the ne-
gundo or ash-leaved maple were the first to
be attacked, and next the lindens, elms,
and sycamores (or western planes) and
white ash. Those mostly exempt were the
Corolina poplars, the sugar,silver and Nor-
way maples, the tulip trees and honey lo-
custs.
A careful count of the trees was made in
1887, and by comparing this with the num
ber of trees since planted and those remov-
ed, there is found to be more than 77,000
trees, which, if placed 30 feet apart, would
line both sides of a houlevard between
Washington and New York. These con-
gists of more than 30 varieties, but seven-
eights of the number may be placed in less
than twelve varieties. The number and
peculiarities of the principal trees may be
described separately :
The silver maple( Acer dasycarpum) num
bers about 25,000. It is almost a perfect
street tree, as it stands transplanting well,
is quite a rapid grower, and has beautiful
foliage, which is never too heavy to allow
free circulation of air. It loves moisture,
but, nevertheless,stands seasons of drought
better than many others. It cannot attain
at the curbstone the magnificient propor-
tions it has in the park or field, and must
be trimmed at times very severely. It is
seldom attacked by the caterpillar,but some
years ago a scale appeared on the trees that
caused serious thoughts of their removal.
This has since disappeared and the trees
are in a healthy condition. It taught the
lesson, however, that it is not well to have
most treee of one variety.
The Norway maple Cicer platanoides)
numbers about 5000 trees, and it is unfors-
unate that more of them were not planted
in past years. They require considerable
care in transplanting, and are a little too
thick in foliage. They are handsome in
leaves and form and are strong of fibre, so
that they withstand storms well. Insects
seldom trouble them.
The American elm (Ulmus Americana)
nambers about 5000 trees, planted on va-
rious avenues. It is a tree of spreading
form so that on roadways 50. feet wide its
limbs arch the entire space. From this it
is liable to be split by storms. It presents
a magnificent appearance at certain times
of the year, but the elm-leaf beetle has
preyed so constantly on this tree that it is
either doomed to disappear as a street tree,
or else be limited to a small number.
The buttonwood sycamore or plane tree,
‘(Plantanus orientalis or oceidentalis)num-
bers 5000 trees. ‘It is a tree of large growth
and must be closely trimmed as a street
tree. The western plane is not an altogeth-
er handsome tree, its shedding of bark giv-
ing it an ugly appearance, which is object-
ed to by many. As a shade producer it; has
no fault. The eastern plane is its superior
in many respects, and it seems unfortunate
that its merits were not recognized sooner.
Its size and nature make it better fitted for
avenues than the narrow streets. Its foli-
age is splendid in appearance, and of prop-
er thickness. It is free of insects.
The American linden (Tilia Americana)
numbers 5000. In early summer they are
at their best, when their flowers dll the
street with their fragrance. They need
ample space, and are apt to suffer from the
drought. They seem to have been planted too
close in this city, and have grown very lit-
tle in late years.
The tulip tree (Liriodendrod tulipifera,)
numbers nearly 2000. It can hardly be
considered a great curbstone tree, as it re-
quires good conditions for its development.
It is fine in appearance, and does well on
wide parkings.
The Carolina poplar (Populus monilifera
numbers about 6000, and was probably
planted on account of its rapid growth. If
is a-good curbstone tree in many respects—
is assertive, free of insects, and is of good
foliage. Its bad gualities are, brittle limbs
which are always broken by storms, and a
persistency of reot growth that is fatal to
sidewalks. Money considerations have
doomed them, and they are being replaced
with more desirable trees.
The aspen poplar (Populus alab and ash-
leaved maple (Acer negundo), numbers
about 2000, although of good foliage have
been condemned as street trees, on account
of their liability to attacks of insects.
The gingko or maidenhair tree,although
few in number here, has been found to be
a good curbstone tree. The pin oak has
shown itself an ideal tree for an avenue or
wide-parked street.
Horse chestnut trees have grown with
some little success, but cannot be called a
good street tree,
The sugar maple, although a queen among
trees, needs too good care for an ideal street
tree. No success has been had with it, al-
though it may be said that attempts have
not been persistent.
The red oak, planted where it is sur-
rounded by good conditions, has been a
great success. ;
If required to arrange a list of trees in
this city in the order of their merit, and in
the light of what has been here shown, the
silver maple, Norway maple and eastern
plane would be placed side by side in the
first rank. Then the ginko and western
plane; and, last, those that require extra
care, and are well fitted for wide parkings
—the American linden, the oak, and the
sugar maple.
The proper distance tospace trees depend
on the locality and variety. Too close
planting was done during the first year of
the commission, the distance along the
curb being from 20 to 25 feet. From 30 to
45 feet is now considered a better limit.
The trimming of trees is a bone of con-
tention among authorities, as to time, man-
man and extent. It is certain, however,
that some city trees must be trimmed and
trimmed severely, if they are expected to
last long.
Fatalities in Soft Coal Mines Made
184 Widows.
In Addition the Production of Bituminous Coal
During the Year Made 412 Orphans.
James B. Roderick, chief of the bureau
of mines and mining, who is at Johustown,
investigating the cause at the explosion in
the *‘Klondyke’’ soft coal mine, furnishes
these facts and figures relative to the bi-
tuminous distries in his report for 1901 :
In the production of bituminous coal 301
persons lost their lives and 659 were injur-
ed, an increase for the year of 39 in the fa-
tal and 64 in the non-fatal accidents. The
number of wives made widows by these
fatalities in the anthracite and bituminous
mines were 184 and the orphans numbered
412.
Of the fatal accidents that occurred in
and about the bituminous mines, 290, or
96.30 per cent., were underground, and
11, or 3.66 per cent., on the surface; 72
per cent. of this number were miners or
their helpers.
By comparing the reports of the anthra-
cite inspectors, it can be seen that they
show nearly the same percentage of fatali-
ties in proportion to the number employed,
while it is quite different in the bitumin-
ous districts, as several of them have very
few accidents, and some of them will com-
pare favorably with any inspection dis-
trict in this or any other country.
Mr. Roderick does not favor the use of
electricity in mines and says :
In gaseous mines, electric cutting ma-
chines or electric motors should never be
permitted in use, as otherwise sooner or
later theyjwill be the cause of a great ca-
tastrophe.
The number of persons imployed in and
about the bituminous mines was 117,602,
an increase of 85.84 over the previous year;
of these 95,562 were imploved inside and
22,040 on the surface. Regarding inspec-
tions during the year Mr. Roderick says.
The inspectors report the mines general-
ly in good condition as to ventilation,
drainage, etc., an could be expected. They
all report some exceptions, bnt the mines
that are not up to thestandard are old mines
that are being ‘‘robbed’’ preparatory to
being abandoned, and small operations that
do not generate explosive gas.
Hobson Rescues a Girl From
Drowning.
Capt.
8illy Girl Jumps Into River Just to Be Rescued By the
Hero of the Merrimac.
Captain Richmond Pearson Hobson, hero
of the Merrimac, who lectured at Mt. Gret-
na last week, rescued Miss May Cerf, of
St. Louis, from drowning in the Mississip-
pi river near the Chautauqua grounds
at Piasa, Ill., recently. Miss Cerf,
standing on the deck of a yacht while
the naval officer was swimming, called to
him :
“If I should fall overboard would you
rescue me ?’’
“I certainly wouid, Miss Cerf,”’ replied
Hobson laughing. :
There was a splash in the water. A clond
of filmy skirts floated a moment on the wa-
ter and then sank. For several seconds a
sailor hat glimmered above the waves and
a pair of round arms splashed desperately
against the tide.
Captain Hobson started with long strokes
to swim the distance of nearly a hundred
feet to the yacht’s side.
Albro Giberson, of Elsa, Ill., Hobson’s
only companion in swimming, swam after
the girl also. Theriver was swollen by re-
cen rains. ;
At the same moment both swimmers reach-
ed the place where the last ‘glimpse of the
‘white hat was seen. From the yacht'sdeck
frantic men and women shouted. Hands
were pointed down the stream.
Captain Hobson, turning with the tide,
floated by the yacht’s side, peering all the
‘while into the muddy water for the girl.
Suddenly he dived, and in a few moments
came to the surface with his left arm around
the shoulders of Miss Cerf. : :
" ‘Shestruggled desperately,and it was hard
for him to keep her head above water until
‘his companion came to his assistance. Even
then the weight of her clothing made the
task of rescuing her very difficult for the
two men, battling with a strong current.
The yacht came to their rescue and eager
hands ‘outstretched from the boat assisted
them on board. Miss Cerf waa nearly un-
conscious. - Captain Hobson was thorough-
ly exhausted from his exertions. Miss Cerf
soon recovered.
Hon. Willlam Jennings Bryan
Principal Speaker.
the
The New Eugland Democratic league
has issued a circular letter concerning
the banquet that was given at Nantas-
ket Beach, July 24. The letter says that
Hon. William Jennings: Bryan, of Ne-
braska ; Hon. Edward M. Shepard, of New
York ; Senator Edward W. Carmack, of
Tennessee, and Senator Joseph W. Bailey,
of Texas, will speak. Hon. F. A. Collins,
mayor of Boston will preside.
The meeting will mark the opening of
he congressional campaign in New Eng-
and.
The highest mountains in Cuba reach
greater heights than any peak in the east-
ern ranges of the United States.