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.