Sowa Bellefonte, Pa., January 23, 1903. THE GREATEST HERO. Here's a song for the man, the strong hearted man Who whistles and smiles through the hours of the day; Who sets a high standard, does all that he can, And scatters bright sunshine along his life's way. We sing of the heroes on war's bloody field Who faltered not, facing the battle’s grim test, But here is a song for the man who won't yield In every day life, but keeps doing his best. We sing of a man who, behind the grim gun, Brave, steady and true, with unfaltering aim, For country and flag greater glory has won, And honor by cheering the sound of his name. But here is a cheer for the man brave and true Whose patient endeavor knows never a rest; ‘Who cheerfully labors, ne'er downeast or blue, And brightens the world just by doing his best. We cheer when they mention the man of huge wealth ‘Who builds ornate temples >f mortar and stone With millions secured by a legalized stealth, And gives them away that his name may be known. But where is the cheer for the brave man and true To whom fortune has never come as a guest ? ‘Who, humble and honest, is hidden from view, But never gives up, and keeps doing his best? We've honored the heroes of sword and of gun Who vanquished the foe by their valorous deeds; We've cheered the gold kings who their millions have won By profits they've wrung from their fellowmen’s needs. So now let us cheer with our uttermost might The king of them all who, four square to each test, Brave, humble, unknown, with his face to the light Keeps pegging away and is doing his best. A WARTIME LOVE STORY. BY GOUVERNEUR MORRIS. Aladdin missed the fight at Malvern Hill and became wounded in a non-bellicose fashion. His general desired to make a re- mark to another general, and writing it on a pieee of thin yellow paper, gave it to him to deliver. He rode off to the tune of axes —for a Maine regiment was putting in an hour in undoing the stately work of a hun- dred years— trotted fifteen.miles peaceful- ly enough, delivered his general’s remark, and started back. Then came night and a sticky mist. Then the impossibility of finding the way. Aladdin rode on and on, courageously if not wisely, and. came in time to the dimly discernible outbuildings of a Virginia mansion. They stood hud- dled dark and wet in the mist, which was turning to rain, and there was no sign of life in or about them. Aladdin passed them and turned into an alley of great trees. By looking skyward he could keep to the road they bounded. As he drew near the mansion itself a great smell of box and roses filled his nostrils with fra- grance. Bat to him, standing under the pillared portico and knocking upon the door, came no word of welcome and no stir of lights. He gave it up in disgust, mount- ed, and rode back through the rich mud to the stables. Had he looked over his shoulder he might have seen a face at one of the windows of the house. He found a door of one of the stables un- locked, and went in, leading his horse. Within there was a smell of hay. He closed the door behind him, unsaddled. and fell to groping about in the dark. He wanted several armfuls of that hay,and he couldn’t find them. The hay kept calling to bis nose, ‘‘Here I am, here I am ;”’ but when he got there, it was hiding somewhere else. It was like a game of blindman’s-buff. Then he heard the munching of his horse and knew that the sought was found. He moved toward the horse, stepped on a rot- ten planking, and fell through the floor, Something caught his chin violently as he ‘went through, and in a pool of filthy wa- ter, one leg doubled and broken under him, he passed the night as tranquilly as if he bad been dosed with laudanum. Aladdin came to consciousness in the early morning. He was about as sick as a man can be this side of actual dissolution, and the pain in his broken leg was as sharp as a scream. He lay groaning and doubled in the filthy half-inch of water into which he had fallen. About him was darkness, but overhead a glimmer of light showed a jagged and cruel hole in the planking of the stable floor. Very slowly, for his agony was unepeakable, he came to a reali- zation of what had happened. He called for help, and his voice was thick and un- resonant, like the voice of a drunken man. His horse heard him and neighed. Now and again he lapsed into semi-unconscious- ness, and time passed without track. Hours passed, when suddenly the glimmer above him brightened, and he heard light foot- steps and the cackling of hens. He called for help. Instantly there was silence. It continued a long time. Then he heard a voice like soft music, and the voice said, ‘Who's there?” A shadow. came between him and the light, and a fair face that was darkened looked down upon him. ‘‘For God’s sake take care.”’ he said. “Those hoards are rotten.’’ ‘You're a Yankee, aren’t you?’ said the voice, sweetly. ‘‘Yes,” said Aladdin, ‘‘and I’m badly hurt.” The voice laughed. ‘‘Hurt, are you ?”’ it said. “I think I've broken my leg,” said Aladdin. ‘‘Can you get some one to help me out of this ?”’ ‘‘Reckon you’re all right down there,” said the voice. Aladdin revolved the brutality of is in his mind. ‘‘Do yon mean to say that you’re nos going to help me ?’’ he said. ‘‘Help you? Why should I%” Aladdin groaned, and could have killed himself for groaning. *‘If you don’t help me,’ he said, and his voice broke, for he was suffering tortures, ‘‘I’ll die before long.” A perfectly cool and cruel ‘‘Well 9? came back to him. ‘Yon won’t help me?” No.” : Anger surged in his heart, but he spoke with measured. sarcasm. ; ‘‘Then,”’ be said, ‘‘will you at least do me the favor of getting from between me ‘and God’s light? If1 die, I may go to hell, hut I pfefer nat to see devils this side “of it, thax you,” ) ¥ 2 i on ie : The gitl went away, bnt presently came back. = She lowered something to him on a string. ‘I got it out of one of your hol- sters,”’ she said. Aladdin’s fingers closed on the butt of a revolver, “It may save you a certain amount of hunger and pain,’’ she said. ‘‘When you are dead, we will give it to one of our men, and your horse too. He's a beauty.” “I hope to God he may—’’ began Alad- din. “Pretty I’ said the girl. She went away, and he heard her cluck- ing to the chickens. After a time she came back. Aladdin was waiting with a plan. “Don’t move,’”’ he said, ‘‘or you'll he shot.” *‘Rubbish I’? said the girl. She leaned casnally back from the hole, and he could hear her moving away and clucking to the chickens. Again she returned. ‘““Thank you for not shooting,’’ she said. There was no answer. ‘Are you dead ?”’ she said. When he came to, there was a bright light in Aladdin’s eyes,for a lantern swung just to the left of his head. . “I thought you were dead,’ said the girl, still from her point of advantage. The lantern’s light was in her face, too, and Aladdin saw chat it was beautifunl. ‘“‘Won’t yon help me?’ he said plain- tively. ‘‘Were you ever told that you had nice eyes ?”’ said the girl. Aladdin groaned. ‘It bores you to be told that ?*’ ‘‘My dear young lady,’”’ said Aladdin, ‘if you were as kind as you are beaunti- ful—"? “How about your horse kicking me to a certain place? That was what yon started to say, you know.” ‘‘Lady —lady,”’ said Aladdin, ‘‘if you only knew how I’m suffering, and I'm just an ordinary young man with a sweetheart at home, and I don’t want to die in this hole. And now that I look at you,’’ he said, ‘I see that you're not so much a girl as an armful of roses.” ‘Are you by any chance—Irish ?'’ said the girl, with a laugh. ‘Faith and oi ahm that,’’ said Aladdin, lapsing into full brogue; ‘‘oi’m a hireling sojer, mahm, and no inimy av yours, mahm.”’ “What will you do for me if I help you?’ said the girl. ‘‘Anything,’’ said Aladdin. *‘Will you say ‘God save Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate States of America, and sing ‘Dixie’—that is, if yon can keep a tune. ‘Dixie’ ’s rasher bard.” “I'll ‘God bless Jefferson Davis and every fature President of the Confederate States, if there are any,’ ten million times, tf you’ll help me out, and—"*’ ‘“‘Will you promise not to fight any more ?”’ A long silence. “No.” “Yon needn’t do the other things eith- er,’’ said the girl, presently. Her voice, oddly enough, was husky. “I thought it would be good to see a Yankee suffer,”’ she said after a while, “‘bust it isn’s.”’ ‘If you could let a ladder down,’”’ said Aladdin, ‘‘T might be able to get up it.”’ *‘I’11 get one,’’ said the girl. Then she appeared to reflect. ‘‘No,’’ she said; ‘“‘we must wait till dark. There are people about, and they’d kill you. Can you live in that hole till dark ?”’ ‘If you could throw down a lot of hay,”’ said Aladdin. ‘‘It’s very wet down here and hard.” The girl went, and came with a bundle of hay. ‘‘Look out for the lantern,’’ she called, aud threw the hay down to him. She brought, in all, seven large bundles and was starting for the eighth, when, by a special act of Providence, the flooring gave again, and she made an excellent imitation of Alacdin’sshute on the previous evening. By good fortune, however, she landed on the soft hay and was not hurt beyond a few scratches. “Did you notice,” she said, with a little gasp, ‘‘that I didn’t scream ?”’ ‘Yon arn’t hurt, are you?’’ said Alad- din. “No,” she said; ‘‘but—do you realize that we can’t get out, now ?”’ She made a bed of the hay. ‘“Yon crawl over on that,’’ she said. Aladdin bit his lips and groaned as he moved. - “It’s really broken, isn’t it?’’ said the irl. Aladdin lay hack gasping. ‘“You poor boy,’’ she said. The girl borrowed Aladdin’s pocket-knife and began whittling at a fragment of board, Then she tore several yards of ruffle from her white petticoat, cut his trouser leg off below the knee, cut the lac- ings of his boot, and bandaged his broken leg to the splint she had made. All that was against a series of most courteous pro- tests, made in a tearful voice. _ When she had done, Aladdin took her band in his and kissed the fingers. ‘“They’re the smallest sisters of mercy I ever saw,’’ said he. She made no attempt to withdraw her hand. ‘‘It was stupid of me to fall through,?’ she said. ‘Isn't there any possible way of getting out ?”’ ‘‘No; the walls are stone.’’ “0 Lord !’? said Aladdin. through,’’ said the girl. “So am I,’’ said Aladdin. ‘“What were you doing in our stable ?’’ said the girl. “‘I got lost, and came in for shelter.” ‘‘You came to the house first. I heard you knocking, and saw you from the win- dow. But I wouldn’s let you in, because my father and brother were away, and be- sides, I knew you were a Yankee.’’ *‘It was too dark to see my uniform.” “I could tell by the way you rode.’ **Is it as bad as that ?"’ ‘‘No—but it's different.”’ The girl laid her hand on Aladdin’s fore- head. ‘You've got fever,’’ she said. “It doesn’t matter,’ said Aladdin, politely. “Does your leg hurt awfally ?”’ ‘Is doesn’ matter.” ° “Did any one ever tell you that you were very civil for a Yankee ?”’ “‘It doesn’t matter,” said Aladdin. She looked at him shrewdly, and saw that the light of reason bad gone out of his eyes. She wetted her handkerchie! with the cold, filthy water spread over the cellar floor and laid it on his forebead. Aladdin spoke ramblingly or kept silence. Every now and then the girl freshened the band- kerchief, and presently Aladdin fell into a troubled sleep. When he awoke his mind was quite clear. The lantern still burned, bus faint- ly, for the air in the cellar was becoming heavy. Beside him on the straw the girl lay sleeping. And overhead footsteps sounded on the stable floor. He remem- bered what the girl bad said about the people who would kill him if they found him, and blew out the lantern. Then, his hand over her moath, he waked the girl. “Don’t make a noige,”’ he said. ‘‘Listen.’’ The girl sat up on the straw. “I'll call,’”” she whispered presently, ‘‘and presend you’re not here.’ “I'm glad I repented before I fell ‘‘But the horse ?”’ “I'll lie about him.”’ She raised her voice. ‘“Who's there ?’’ she called. “It’s I—Calvert. Where are you?’ ‘‘Listen,’’ she answered; ‘‘I’ve fallen through the floor into the cellar, Don’t you see where it’s broken?’’ The footsteps approached. “You're not hurt, are vou ?”’ ‘No; but don’t come too close, don’t try to look down; the floor’s frightfnlly rickety. Isn’t there a ladder there some- where 2’ A man laughed. *‘Wait,”’ he said. They heard his foot- steps and laughter receding. Presently the bottom of a ladder appeared through the hole in the floor. ‘Look out for your head,’’ said the man. The girl rose and guided the ladder clear of Aladdin’s head. ‘“What have youdone with the Yankee’s horse?’ she called. ¢‘He’s here.” ‘“Where’s the Yankee, do you suppose ?’’ ‘“We think he must have run off into the woods.”’ ‘“That’s what I thought.”’ The girl began to mount the ladder. “I’m coming up,’’ she said. She disappeard, and the ladder was with- drawn. She came back after a long time, and there were men with her. “It's all right, Yankee,’’ she called down the hole. ‘‘They’re your own men, and I’m the prisoner now.’’ : The ladder reappeared, and two friendly men in blue came down into the cellar. “Good God!’ they said. ‘It's Alad- din O'Brien !”’ Hannibal St. John and Bea uLarch lifted Aladdin tenderly and took him out of his prison. Outside, tents were being pitched in the dark, and there was a sound of axes. Fires glowed here and there through the woods and over the fields, and troops kept pour- ing into the plantation. They laid Alad- din on a heap of hay and went to bring a stretcher.. The girl sat down beside him. ‘You'll be all right now,’’ she said. ‘‘Yes,”” said Aladdin. ‘‘And go home to your sweetheart.’’ ‘‘Yes,”’ said Aladdin, and he thought of the tall violets on the banks of the Maine brooks, and the freshness of the sea. ‘‘What is her name ?’’ said the girl. ‘‘Margaret,’’ said Aladdin. ‘*Mine’s Ellen,’”’ said the girl, and it seemed as if she sighed. Aladdin took her hand. “You've been very good to me,’”’ he said, and his voice grew tender, for she was very beautiful, ‘‘and I’ll never forget you,’’ he said. ‘Ob, me !’’ said the girl, and there was a silence between them. ‘I tried to help you,’ said the girl, faintly, ‘‘but I wasn’t very good at it.’’ ‘‘You were an angel,’”’ said Aladdin. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever see each oth- er again, will we?’ said the girl. “I don’t know,” said Aladdin. haps I'll come back some day.’’ ‘It’s very silly of me—'’ said the girl. ‘What?’ said Aladdin. ‘Nothing.’ He closed bis eyes, for he was very weak. It seemed as if a great sweetness came close to his face, and he could have sworn that something wet and hot fell lightly on his forehead; but when he opened his eyes, the girl was sitting aloof, her face in the shadow. ‘I dreamed just then,” said Aladdin, “‘that something wonderful bappened to me. Did it?” ‘‘What would you consider wonderful?’’ Aladdin laid a finger on his forehead; he drew it away and saw that the tip was wet. ‘I couldn’t very well say,’’ he said. The girl bent over him. ‘It nearly happened, ’’ she said. ‘‘You are very wonderful and beautiful,”’ said Aladdin. Her eyes were like stars, and she leaned closer. ‘‘Are you going to go on fighting against my people ?’’ she said. Roses lay for a woment on his lips. ‘‘Are you ?"’ He made no sign. If she had kissed him again he would bave renounced his birth- right and his love. ‘‘God bless and keep you, Yankee,”’ she said. Tears rushed out of Aladdin’s eyes. *‘They’re coming to take you away,’’ she said. ‘‘Good-by.”’ ‘‘Kiss me again,’’ said Aladdin,boarsely. She looked at him quietly for some mo- ments. ‘‘And your sweetheart?’ she said. Aladdin covered his face with his arm. ‘Poor little traitor,’’ said thegirl, sadly. She rose and, without looking back, moved slowly up the road toward the house.—By —From Qouverneur Morris's new novel, ‘Aladdin O’Brien.” Copyright 1902. By the Century Co. ‘‘Per- Cholera’s Many Victims. Have Been 37,473 Deaths Since Outbreak in the Philippines. What is probably the most interesting and exhaustive treatise on the Philippine islands ever compiled was issned at the war department on Tuesday in the form of appendices to the report of the Philippine commission for the last fiscal year. Cholera statistics are given prominence. From the time of its first appearance in Malolos. Bulucan province, to September 1st, 1902, the total number of recorded cases was 52,536, of which 37,473 resulted fatally, the mortality being 71 per cent. Reporte from officers of the quarter- master’s department say the Filipino has proved himself capable of development alter comparatively short training into a skilled laborer. He declares there is no necessity to in- troduce Chinese labor in these islands. Work which can be performed by Chinese can be performed equally well by the Filipino, he says. The latter, moreover, have marked advantages over the Chinese, inasmuch as they are more amenable to disgipline, more enthusiastic ‘in their work for the work itself, and more easily assimi- Jated bv American workmen. Five Children in One Year. In his morning mail State-Treasurer Lamp- ton, of ississippi, received a letter from a friend in the southern pars of the State telling him of a most remarkable woman who lives near Tangipahoa, La., which is near the Mississippi line. The woman is Mrs. Stevens, daughter of Gideon Bond, a well- ‘known lumberman of that neighborhood. She was married twelve years ago and since that time has become the mother of fifteen children, all except one of whom are living and doing’ well. Five of these children’ bave been born during the lass twelve months, triplets at one time and twins at the next. Mrs. Stevens is a re- markably well preserved woman, looking young and vigorous. Smothered by Dritting Sand. “Garden of Moray” Now an Absolute Desert, the Names of its Hamlets Forgotten. Along the coast of Moray, Scotland, from Nairn to the Findhorn, stretches a series of low hills composed entirely of sand so fine and so loose that it drifts with every wind. The area covered is about 4000 acres, the sands extending for some ten miles from east to west and three from north to south. Save an occasional seabird wheeling over- head, not a living thing is to be seen, and hardly a blade of grass breaks the yellow monotony of the sand. It isa place of absolute waste and desolation. Yet 250 years ago this area was known as ‘‘the Garden of Moray.” It was the fairest part of that fair country. The soil was fertile, the climate kindly, and crops were early and luxuriant. In the middle of the seventeenth cen- tury, according to a local authority, the valued rental of Culbin was larger than that of the neighboring estate of Darn away, the principal possession of the Earl of Moray. Now the lands of ('~lbin are but a name and a memory. I'.clds, or- chards, gardens, dwellings, ate alike buried deep under those mountains of sand. Early historians record an inundation by the sea of part of Moray early in the twelfth century, when land under cultiva- tion was covered with sand. It does not appear, however, that this occurrence work- ed any serious permanent injury to Culbin. But for hundreds of yearssand seems to have accumulated on the western borders of the estate, carried thither apparently by a powerful current from other parts of the Moray Firth seaboard. There it lay barm- lessly until the latter half of the seven- teenth century, when the inhabitants of Calbin, in their ignorance, brought upon themselves, or at any rate precipitated, the catastrophe that drove them from their fields and homes. Along the coast to the westward there was ab that time a big sandhill called in Gaelic Cul-bein, or the Black hill—from which, of course, the name ‘‘Culbin’’ is derived. The hill was called black because it’ was covered with a vigorous growth of wins, broom, heather and bent, which gave stability to the sand and protected it from the wind. This undergrowth the people ruthlessly uprooted for thatohing purposes, leaving the sand loose and naked, with the result that the westerly winds gradually drove it farther and farther over the adjacent lands. When the mischief became apparent the pulling of bent was prohibited by the authorities, but for Calbin this came too late. Nothing could avert its doom. Grandually the whole estate was engulfed. Sometimes a year or two would elapse without any serious encroachment, and then would come a violent storm, and in a eingle night many fields would be ahso- lately obliterated. Frequently a field plowed daring the day was buried during the night, and at the present day one often sees in the valleys among the sand bills furrows that were turned up more than 200 years ago. In the closing years of the seventeenth century a terrific storm all but overwhelm- ed the mansion house itself, so that it had soon afterwards to be abandoned, and a few decades later a single farm was all that remained of the once broad and fertile acres of Culbin. Of even that poor remnant not a wreck now remains. The very names of the hamlets and holdings are as completely forgotten as if they had never been. The sand is still moving eastward in great drifts. Its further progress along the coasts isarrested by the Findhorn, although the river itself now reaches the sea by a circuitous course, and at a point two miles east of where its mouth used to be. Bat the barrier, after all, is only ap- parent. Slowly, but surely, the river is being headed eastward, and the village of Findhorn, perched on an unstable bank of sand and shingle, seems marked out for destruction no less complete than that which overtook Culbin.— People’s Friend. The Mystery of Growth. ‘‘Some men and women grow all their lives,” said a well-known physician. ‘I have made a considerable study of the mystery of growth, and I am positive that two or three persons in every 500 lengthen out at least two inches after the age of 25. “I know one old man who grew an inch between his fifty-eight and sixtieth years. At the same time his hair, which has been thin, thickened, and his sight, which had heen bad, improved. ‘“The medical books tell of a women who grew three inches after she had passed 35. She, too, seemed henefited by this growth, her hair taking on a youthful lustre, and her voice a youthful ring. “The nails grow always, the bair grows always, the ears grow always, and the beard and eyelashes grow always. Why should the frame alone stop growing? Well, investigation shows that it doesn’t always stop. “Growth is a mystery. There are cases where, at the age of nine, children have attained full development, boys reaching a height of six feet and putting forth long beards, girls achieving all the contours that belong to women. Then, on the other hand, there are cases where growth has been arrested. Men of 25 have been chil- dren of 10in appeaiance, and then, sudden- ly, they have begun to sprout like weeds, and in a year have regained all their lost ground.” Bequest to Pniladelphia. Dr. Bushrod James Leaves $55,000 to Establish Free Eye and Ear Hospital. PHILADELPHIA, Jan. 16.—The will of Dr. Bushrod James, of this city, which was probated to-day, devises to the city of Phil- adelphia $55,000,several pieces of real estate in this city and several lots at Island Beach., N. J., for the purpose of establishing a free hospital in this city for the treatment of disease of the eye and ear. The will directs shat the $55,000 be invested as an endowment fund, the income to be used for the maintenance of an institution for the examination and treatment of eye, nose, ear, throat and pulmonary diseases. The will directs that the proposed hospital be called the Washington James Eye and Ear insti- tute. Had a Narrow Escape From Hor rible D.ath. At Driftwood a few evenings ago John Hacket, 8r., had a narrow escape from a horrible death in the tannery as that place. The Gazette says that blinded by the steam he walked into a boiling vat in the leach house at L. R. Gleason & Son’s tannery. The vat is 10 feet deep and was filled with ground bark and boiling water: He sunk to the waiss bus succeeded in drawing him- self ous. Both ankles and hie wrist are badly scalded and he will be laid up for some time. tS The Coal Question. A Physician's Prescription Brought a Supply. Rail- road imports 80,600 Tons. Snow Adds to the Difficulties in Moving the Dusty Diamonds— Factories and Schools Closed—S8uffering from Cold is Feared. Over in New York coal has become such a loxury that a physician’s certificate showing there is illness in the house of the applicant is required by some of the retail dealers. Several day ago a physician in the Flat- bush section was surprised to receive an unusually early call from a woman patient who as soon as she saw the doctor ex- claimed : “‘Doctor, I want a prescription for a ton of coal. My coal dealer refuses to send me any coal unless I prove to bim by a physician’s signature that there is sick- ness in our house.’’ The certificate was duly made out and signed and the woman was successful in securing her ton of coal. Hearing of her success others are now seeking prescrip- tions for coal. IMPORTING COAL. A statement coming from the New York and New Haven Railroad officials on Mon- day was to the effect that the road would import 800,000 ton of European coal to tide over the period of shortage. The road con- sumes about 4,000 a day and this supply will last twenty days. ’ COAL DELAYED BY SNOW. Sunday’s heavy snow storm, says a dis- patch from Wilkesbarre, made the coal supply question more serious there than ever. The people of that region now face a famine. The coal companies in their efforts to force out the speculators have cut off the supply of coal to all except their regular customers. As most people have bought from teamsters, and these can- not get coal the people arein need. The rail- roads were in difficulties on Sunday night, wise to the heavy snowfall and large drifts. FACTORIES WERE STOPPED. Three large factories in Aurora, Ill, have closed because of a lack of coal and 900 persons are out of work. About 200 mechanics were laid off in the West Mil- waunkee, Wis., shops on Monday, owing to a coal shortage. Lonisville, Ky., seems to be about the only city in the country not suffering for coal. About 50,000,000 bushels of river coal is stored at Pumpkin Patch and prob- ably twice as much is stored in the yard of dealers. SUFFERING IN THE WEST. According to the latest health bulletin in Chicago two hundred thousand persons in that city are suffering maladies due to zero weather and the coal famine. Three men are dead because of cold. The in- vestigators who have gone before the special Grand Jury called in Chicago to in- vestigate the conditions responsible for the coal famine, claim to have discovered trains of coal cars side-tracked outside the city by the operators and placarded with in- structions to freight crews to hold the con- signments indefinitely, and that hundreds of tons of coal have been taken from the cars and heaped up along the tracks. In Adams county, Nebraska, people to keep from freezing are burning corn worth 35 cents a bushel. All available coal and wood has been used, zero weather prevails and there is nothing bat corn left to burn. At Tuscola, Ill.. ten cars of coal were con- fiscated by the people at the Illinois Cen- tral yards on Monday. Bankers, lawyers and business men joined in the raid. The coal was paid for and the money will be turned in to the railroad. SCHOOLS CLOSED. At Babylon, Long Island, only one car- load of coal in sight. Most houses have a three or four days’ supply. At a meeting of citizens it was decided that it would be better to have a carload of coal received for the high school divided among the citizens and closed the school. Most of tbe churches exbausted their supply on Sun- day. For Apostle Smoot Senator. Mormon Chosen by the Utah Republican Caucus Will be Elected Next Tuesday. Apostle Reed Smoot, of the Mormon church was nominated senator by the Re- publican caucus at Salt Lake City on Wed- nesday night. Two years ago President McKinley when asked for advice by Smoot, who at the time was a candidate for senator, told him that a Mormon apostle would not be acceptable as a United States senator, and urged Smout to quit the race, Smoot withdrew. A week ago Smoot sent an agent to Washington to consult President Roose- velt. The latter warned Smoot that the Senate would not seat an apostle of the Mormon church. But Smoot declined to withdraw this time. and rallying his Mor- mon brethren to his support Wednesday night won the most pronounced victory recorded in Western politics. There are fifty Republicans in the Legis- lature and the caucus was attended by forty-nine members. No name but Smoot’s was on any tongue and from the time the caucus was called to order to its adjourn- ment the mention of Smoot’s name was received with cheers. The apostle was nominated as the peer of any man in the state and the truest type of Utah. Three speakers indirectly scored the so-called in- terference of the national administration, and declared that Utah was able to eleot its own senators without advice from out- side. It was moved that Smoot be nominated by acclamation. This carried with a mighty shout. Smoot was declared the nominee and a committee was appointed to escort him to the hall. The apostle thanked the members. He made a conservative speech in which he said good things of President Roosevelt. The nomination of Smoot by the cancus means that on Tuesday next he will be elected by an overwhelming majority. Fifty of the sixty-three members of the Legislature will vote or him. Smoot’s friends declare that his election is a rebuke to the president, It is known that four members who were all anti-Smoot men came over to the apostle after Roosevelt's warning was received. Forty-two of the fifty members of the caucus which nomi- nated Smoot are Mormons. The anti-Smoot people will now organize to meet him at the door of the United States Senate. Every ministerial associa- tion and woman’s club in the country are joining in the fight against Smoot. An Exciting Game. {Das was a very excitin’ jackpot I won las’ night on a bluff,” said Mr. Erastus ‘Pinkly as he tilted his cigar ‘and dropped his hat over his eye. “Did you raise de opener?’ asked Mr. James Colliflower. “No, sub; I opened a razor.’’—Wash- ington Star. the United States. The Finest of Boulevards. New York Can Soon Boast of the World's Largest and Most Delightful Driveway. A magnificent boulevard seven miles long through the most picturesque portion of New York is what that city will soon boast of. It will be the longest drive in the world and the most delightful. It will be free from all restrictions and wil! accommodate all sorts of vehicles, as well as bicycles and pedestrians. Plans have been prepared for President Cantor for the extension of Riverside drive from the Manhattan viaduet to the Boule- vard Lafayette and will afford a continu- ous trip from Seventy-second street to about Two Hundredth street. The plans provide for viaducts, terraces, bridges and a beautiful public park with innumerable artistic features. It also pro- vides for public comfort stations and refec- tion stands of an artistic nature. The boulevard will be lighted with electricity aud at many points colored lights will give an artistic effect. Except to the privileged few the Boule- vard Lafayette is as much unknown as drives in far-away cities, and yet the drive from One Hundredth and Fifty-eighth street to the Heighths of Inwood is with- out parallel for beauty in this or any other land. A pleasure driveway will extend from Central Park west via Riverside and Boule- vard Lafayette, down to Dyckman valley and back by the Speedway and St. Nicho- las avenue, in all a distance of fifteen miles. Following the proposed route, the new drive and park will swing gradually to the west, approaching closely to the tracks of the New York Central, but at such a height that the vision will be carried above and beyond the railroad to the river and distant cliffs. Streets which now have no junction at their western end, being twenty to thirty feet in the air, will be joined with New York’s most beautiful thoroughfare. The drive now reaches Trinity cemetery, where a series of beautiful masonry arches carries it over to One Hundred and Fifty- fifth street. This street is bridged, as the drive is at an elevation of sixty feet above the river. An inclined approach on the northerly side makes connection between the drive and street. Passing through protty Audubon park the Riverside drive crosses over One Hun- dred and Fifty-eight street, and at once makes its northern exit upon the Boule- vard Lafayette. The approach at this point is widened out, forming a roomy plaza, and corresponding to some extent with the entrance to the viaduct north of Claremont. The driveway provides for a carriage road sixty feet wide a bridle path of swenty feet, two walks of fifteen feet each, and grass plots between road and walks of five feet. Trees will be planted at the sides of the roads and walks, forming beautiful avenues. The parkway is laid out with walk terraces down the slope to the river, with flights of steps at various places, and ornamented here and there with a fountain or a vase. A complete drainage, sewerage and water supply system is arranged, not for the requirements of the park only, but for the future requirements of the popula- tion sure to follow the building up of this section of the city. A Thousand Miles of Collars. Troy's Tremendous Output of the Product that Makes that City Famous. - If all of the collars and cuffs made ina year in Troy, N. Y., says Harry Beardsley, in Leslie's Weekly, were placed in a single line, end to end that line would be more than 1,000 miles long. It would extend from New York city to Chicago, with sev- eral miles to spare. Ninety-five per cent. of all the collars manufactured in the United States are produced in New York State, and 85 per cent. of the entire coun- try’s product comes from Troy. That an industry of this magnitude, and one whose product is of such general use, should be concentrated in a city of 75,000 inhabitants is perhaps the most interesting industrial phenomenon in the country. From it arises a variety of unique conditions. Troy is called ‘‘the collar city’ of the world. Here the very first collar detached from the shirt, and hearing a semblance to that article of apparel as it is known to- day was made; and since that time, seventy-five years ago, the industry has increased. with, Troy always as its centre, until now collar manufacturing involves $20,000 annually and gives employment to nearly 18,000 persons, whose wages amounts in the aggregate to between $8,000,000 and $9,000,000. Although the factories which constract these finishing touches to a mnan’s attire are in some instances immense plants em- ploying thousands of people—great, buz- zing nests of activity—a large and impor- tant part of the work is done by women in their homes. For this is distinctly a woman’s work, and while in the city of Troy the great factories are humming, through all the country round, in the farm houses and villages within the radius of fifty miles, the women sitting in their own homes are helping to make the collars of It is the skill of these women, as well as those who are employed ’ within the factories, that enables thirty manufacturers in and near Troy to turn out complete every year about 60,000,000 collars, cuffs and shirts; and it is these same women, in the small hoase of the oity, in the villages round-about aud on the farms, that make it impossible for this industry to live elsewhere. Compromise for Miss Keim. If 8he Reduces Breach of Promise Claim to $5,000. ’ Judge Bailey, at Huntingdon, settled the motion for a new trial in the case of Prof. I. Harvey Brumbaugh, acting presi- dent of the Juniata college, against whom Miss Cora A. Keim, of Salsbury, obtained a verdict for §9.250 for breach of promise. The judge stipulates that if Miss Keim, by a paper filed within 20 days, remits all the verdict in excess of $5,000 the motion for a new trial is over-ruled. os Both Prof. Brumbaugh and Miss Keim are prominent Dunkards and the suit at- tracted more than common attention for the reason that the church discipline for- bids law suits. Democratic Governor New. Vote in Oregon Gives Chamberlain 276 Plurality. The two houses of the Oregon Legisla- ture mes in joins session on Wednesday to canvas the vote for governor at the last general election. The vote was officially announced as follows : Chamberlain, Democrat, 41,857; Fur- nish, Republican, 41,681; Hunsaker, Pro- hibition, 3,483; Ryan, Socialist, 3,771. Chamberlain’s plurality, 276. Governor Chamberlain was subsequently inaugurated.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers