RA
=
Bellefonte, Pa., July 31, 1903.
TO LIVE AND LOVE AND LEARN,
Most of the things that worry us
Don’t matter much.
Too many of us fret and fuss
At every touch.
There’s nothing that's of great concern
Except to live and love and learn,
Suppose the world don’t go our way,
What of it, then?
We have the better chance today
To act like men.
And still insist at every turn
‘We’re here to live, and love, and learn.
It isn’t doing what we wonld
That counts for most;
It’s being brave, and kind, and good,
, . Amid the host;
For better then to crave and yearn
Is just to live, and love, and learn.
We make too much of ease and joy,
And sordid gain;
The things that vex us and annoy,
The toil and pain.
And every malady we spurn
May help us live and love and learn.
And there is nothing else to fear,
Of good or ill
Than just the failure of good cheer,
And honest will;
No loss need fright us if we earn
More power to live, to love, and learn.
—~8an Francisco Star.
THE CRUCIBLE.
Ah yes, the choice is meagre—
Between two evils at best—
Pain is the price of living
And death is the price of rest.
Most of life is a waver
Between a smile and a sigh ;
We grasp at joys that vanish,
We love and our loved ones die.
The heart, waked from its slumber,
Breaks into a glad refrain
Which fills the soul with music ;
But dies in a sob of pain.
As oreis crushed and melted
For the gold it may contain ;
So is the heart made purer
In the crucible of pain.
Thus in God’s mighty workshop,
While the years are passing by,}
Hearts and souls are fashioned
For his purpose bye and bye.
—M. V. Thoinas.
RUNAWAY ON THE A & R.
The G. P. A. put his head into the gen-
eral superintendent's doorway and said :
‘‘Old Tympan’s out there again, I see,
Palmer.” :
‘No use,” replied the general superin-
tendent. ‘‘His name came in two hours
ago. I told him to report here next time
he got drunk. This finishes him.”
Five minutes later old Tympan, after
forty years of service for the A. & R. went
tumbling down the stairs because he was
drunk at the Hancook street switch the day
the directors went up the line. Palmer
had given him a pass home, eighty miles
up the road, and then fired him with sen of
the words Palmer wasn’t accustomed to
using on ordinary jobs.
Train No. 8 pulled in while Tympan
fumbled the pass on the platform, and he
climbed in and found a double seat in the
smoker. He knew only that he was ous of
a job, with a full pint in his coat and
Palmer’s transportation te take him up
home, where he could camp down for the
winter with the boys. He had threatened
that many times. They deserved it for let-
ting him work for a living.
‘Taking vacation, Tympan?’’ asked
Hennessy of No. 8 when he came through
for tickets. Tympan admitted he was off
for a bit of time up the road.
*‘Gruess you ain’t coming back right off,’
taunted Hennessy. . ‘‘The return check on
your pass don’t seem to be in sight. Long
lay off, eh, Tympan !’’
Tympan sat up, pulling his hat over his
eyes. :
“Dick Hennessy,’ he said, “you go slow
on yer kiddin’ ’r I'll roast you one o’ these
days f’r bein’ so smart. They've fired me,
you o’n bet—yes, they have, fired me good,
but I’m nexs to Palmer yet. An’ I heard
what Palmer told the G. P. A, this morn-
in’ about your runnin’ over orders twice
last week. I know somethin’, an’ don’t
you kid me no more.”
Train No. 8's conductor ignored the chal-
lenge, partly because he dared do no more.
He knew the whole operating department
bad been knocking everybody in sight be-
cause old Tympan, invariably drunk and
disorderly, held his job while better and
younger and sober men were overhauled 1n
Palmer’s office for nothing more than leav-
ing stations ‘half a minute ahead of orders
or failing to vise the annual of some of the
spying directors who went up and down.
R. H. Palmer gota master tongue lashing
those days from the rank and file, and now
that the dismissal bad really come Hennes-
sy was no more skeptical than any of the
others concerning the general superinten-
dent’s honest intention of keeping Tympan
out of service.
Hennessy tried to conciliate Tympan on
his next trip through, but the old man lay
with his hat over his face, steaming with
rage, too angry even to curse. No. 8 was
making beautiful work, and Hennessy felt
better than usual. He bad eight cars with
a big load. of women and kids and wanted
to be on time any way because it was his lay
off thas Saturday and there was an all night
game in the ‘‘club’’ at home.
At Inchburg Hennessy got his usual or-
ders, every thing all straight, and left on
time. The rear brakeman found him just
afterward and said :
‘Hear. about the wild freight went up
ahead of us? She’s a big one, and it
wouldn’t surprise me if she got stuck on
the Long Misery and held us at Lyshon.”
Hennessy knew his man was right. Ly-
shon station is at the foot of a thirteen mile
grade known for good reasons as *‘the Long
Misery.’” If a freight got hung there ahead
of No. 8. it meant everything balled up, for
the A. and R. is a single line, and the di-
rectors won’t stand for a siding between
Lyshou and Oldtown, the station at the
crest of Long Misery.
Hennessy took the platform at Lyshon
before No. 8's brakes held her and sought
the dispatcher in the dingy station. ;
x Wild freight 2”? eq oy the telegrapher.
Yes, , went up an hour ago. Big train?
Yes, big train, bat she’s got a good rail,
ad I don’t believe she’ll hold you a min-
ute. Si
Hennessy «went out and looked in the
book by the station door. = He found where
the wild freight had reported and saw with
satisfaction thatshe was in charge of Bit-
vers, one of the ring and sure to do his best
seconds, but Hennessy risked a trifling de-
lay and went back to the operator :
“Can’t you ask Oldtown, just for a
he asked. wy
# x Uma ox x
Wild freight 543 started over the Long
Misery in good order that Satu ‘and
more.
injector in the mogul.
caboose and ran up
redheaded engineer grab up the wrenches
and start from his seat.
‘‘Go ahead lively as you can, Mike,”’ he
shouted. 5
Mike gave the mogul sand and steam.
She strained for a moment while her driv-
ers raced and then shot ahead so hard that
Mike bounced out of his ‘seas. Thé train
had broken apart seven cars down, leaving
thirty three detached. Before the mogul
could gather herself to back up and catch
the breakaway the fugitive section was
slowly moving off, very slowly, down the
head end of the Long Misery.
‘Back up, Irish! Back up and catch
‘em !”’ screeched Bitters.
‘“You can’t do it I’ yelled a breathless
brakeman who came up from the rear, ‘‘be-
cause the gear’s just completely out o’ the
head o’ that section and there wouldn’t be
nothin’ to make a eouplin’ to if you caught
’em, which it ain’t likely you'll do any-
way.”
Bitters was thinking of Hennessy and
No. 8. If No. 8. were on time, she was
just leaving Lyshon. Chances were she
was late. He knew Hennessy. It was for
him to reach Oldtown in time to stop No.
8 at Lyshon. Bitters sickened at the
thought of the Saturday Bight rush of wom-
en and children which had given Hen-
nessy’s train the name of the ‘*nursery ex-
press.”’ : :
They worked quickly then. In thirty
seconds Bitters was in the cab, and his
Irish engineer was giving the mogul steam
enough and some to carry. Bitters figured
it was four miles to the goal, and the way
they paced it off made it impossible for him
to say he was disappointed when he jump-
ed off at Oldtown.
‘No. 8, hold her at Lyshon. My freight’s
busted, an’ thirty three of em are on the
grade, goin’ to beat thunder !"’
*‘No. 81”? The dispatcher’s face was pie
crust. ‘‘She left Lyshon six minutes ago,
late.” He went back to the instrument
and sent ‘‘Seventeen’’ the clear out signal,
to warn the road south of him, but as he
did so he knew that No. 8 was coming up
Long Misery ten minutes late, straight in-
to the teeth of the worse runaway the A.
and R. had known.
* * * * * *
Hennessy was fuming at Lyshon, for he
couldn’t afford another second, yet Oldtown
had seen nothing of the wild freight.
‘‘Better wait for another report from
Oldtown,’’ said the operator. But Hen-
nessy was six minutes late then and resolv-
ed to go on up the grade. He signaled his
engineer and jumped on the rear. The
brakeman was there and grinned when the
conductor cursed his lnck.
Hennessy, half way through ' the door,
wheeled. There, away back by the station
platform, only afading bit of dismal detail
in she familiar view, was old Tympan
standing in the middle of the track and
waving crossed arms.
‘‘Left and signaling us to come back for
him,’’ said the rear brakeman.
Hennessy spoke eloquently, looking at
his watch. The time frightened him. ‘I'll
pos go back for him,’’ he cried. ‘‘I.can’t
il rin
There was that in the rear brakeman’s
eves which stopped Hennessy. Suppose he
should leave Tympan at Lyshon over Sun-
day, with no trains either way, and sup-
pose the old man’s pull with R. H. P.
was still working, and suppose the young
husband of her who was Nell Tympan, he
who worked in the G. P. A.’s office,
should—
And there was old Tympan himself stand-
ing in the middle of the track and signaling,
‘‘Back up, back up, back up.” Could he
afford to ignore the old fellow? Though
it hurt him to do it, he said : ait
‘No, I believe I’ll go back for the old
guy, Bill.”?
The rear brakeman pulled: the cord, and
Hennessy went in to reckon just how much
over thirty minutes late he would be into
Oldtown. fad t
There was no denying that old Tympan
was exceedingly drunk. Hennessy smoth-
ered his wrath with difficulty as No. 8
backed into Lyshon, for he hadn’t relished
what he had heard going through the day
coaches, He leaned out toward the dirty
figure reeling across the platform and heard
Tympan’s idiotic laugh as he boasted of
having called back the biggest train on the
road. “I jus’ went .out there—ri’ ont
there—and signaled, ‘Back up,’and yer
backed up, didn’t yer? I tell yer, gents,
there ain’ er man o’ the ro’d darst ter dis-
disobey my orders.”’
There was a scramble on the platform be-
hind them, and the dispatcher came shriek-
ing like a plow train at a blind crossing.
‘Back up, Hennessy, for all you're
worth I’ che shouted. ‘‘Runaway freight
—thirty something cars off the wild train
coming down the grade—be here in less
than a minute. Oldtown wired. Oh, Hen-
nessy, look up the line !"’
It was a cloud of sand and dust at the
first curve in the Long Misery, three miles
away. abun |
Hennessy’s knees wavered. The dis-
patcher struck him with his fist between
the shoulders, crying : ‘‘Quick, man! Run
her back into the siding ‘and let the freight
go by.”
The passengers knew only enough to
complain that they were horribly shaken
up that afternoon near Lyshon. It was
Hennessy himself who switched No. 8 into
the siding and’ who thanked heaven with
all sincerity that it was just long enough
to take his train and leave the main line
open, As he threw the switch his head
went dizzy 'with the ‘whirl of the freight.
When the threatening thirty-three banged
past, Hennessy gave one look after, but
fainted over the lever and hung like a uni-
formed scarecrow until they gathered him
up.—By James Edmund Dunning.
Bitters left the
81-Year-old Won Race.
Mrs. Anna Llan Davis, of Youngstown,
near New Castle, 81-years-old, won a foot
race, running against her cousin, who is
70-years-old, at the annual reunion of her
descendants held at Cascade park. It was
her eighty-first birthday. :
Of the 100 or more persons who gathered
to celebrate the event, none took more ao-
tive part in the amusements than did Mrs.
Davis. When the foot races, a part of the
athletio program, occurred, she announced
that she would enter. She had but one
opponent for honors, and by a goodly space
crossed the tape ahead of her rival.
She has six children, thirty-four grand-
children and ten great-grandchildren.
0 get that heavy train out of the way long
before Hennessy came along. :
——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN,
Lyshon was on the card for only thirty
chance, it that freight’s showed up yet?”
made excellent time for eight miles or
Then she was stopped by a shaky
ead in time to see his
Ss,
Sketch of the Strange Life of Cassius M. Clay,
Politician and Abolitionist. Clay was Born in Same
Year Pope Leo XIII Saw the Light, Gut Lived a
Different Life. o 5 2
General Cassius M. Clay died at ten min-
utes after nine o’clock last Wednesday even-
HE at his home, Whitehall, Ky.
The physicians who had been attending
the aged ‘‘Sage of Whitehall’! since the
court adjudged him of unsound mind noti-
fied General Clay's children on Wednesday
that their father had only a few hours to
live. All of the children except one drove
to Whitehall, and, forcing their way past
the general’s bodyguard, who was guard--
ing the mansion with drawn revolvers, they
entered their father’s room. General Clay
“refused to notice them. :
Recently General Clay was taken to cours
and the management of his affairs was
placed in other hands, on the ground that
he was not capable of taking care of him-
self or his estate. He believed that a con-
spiracy to assassinate him had been form-
ed, and some years ago fortified his home
at Whiteball and entered a life of seclu-
sion that ended only a few weeks ago, when
the courts appointed a committee to take
charge of him and his effects.
He was then found to be desperately ill,
and had every care. His children, long
estranged by reason of his eccentricities,
did everything possible for him.
General Clay was born in Madison Co.,
Kentucky, October 19th, 1810. He gradu-
ated at Yale in 1832, and became an aboli-
tionist as the result of a speech he heard
by William Lloyd Garrison, although all
his family were slaveholders and later
ardent secessionists. Nevertheless, he was
elected a member of the Kentucky legis-
lature three times,and was a successful law-
yer in Lexington, Ky., where he issued
the True American, an abolition news-
paper.
A mob destroyed the press and office of
his paper, but General Clay removed the
publication office to Cincinnati and issued
16 from there.
His determined stand caused great of-
fense, aiid as he was of a contentions dis-
position himself, and proud and utterly
fearless, he had almost numberless duels,
with pistols, guns and knives, the bowie
being his favorite.
In the Mexican war he served as an of-
ficer of volunteers. He supported Taylor,
Fremont and Lincoln for the Presidency,
and was made minister to Russia by
Lincoln, serving from 1861 to 1869.
General Clay supported Greeley in 1872,
Tilden in 1876 and Blaine in 1884.
When General Clay was recalled from
the court of St. Petersburg he brought to
America with him a Russian woman and a
son, Launey Clay, was born to them in a
farm house at his country mansion, Whit-
hall. General Clay’s family rebelled be-
cause of the presence of the woman. Mrs,
Clay, who was a Miss Warfield, secured a
divorce. She would not go to court for
alimony, but was allowed a large portion
of the property by General Clay.
It was on November 9th, 1894, the Gen-
eral Clay, after nearly thirty years of soli-
tude, married Dora Richardson, a domestic
in his kitchen. The girl was about 14
years old. Her home was at Valley View,
in Madison conuty, and she had performed
an act of heroism by saving the life of her-
self and litle brother on a railroad trestle
by letting herself down through the beams
while holding her brother in her arms.
General Clay was always peculiar, and
he wrote for the children to be brought to
Whitehall, where he placed them in the
care of a shepherdess to be raised.
The 14-year-old girl ruled Whitehall
during her short stay there as firmly as
General Clay had ruled the place before
she came and after she left.
In September, 1897, General Clay di-
vorced the girl, who had fallen in love
with Riley Brock, and gave her a home in
Pinkard, up in Woodford county. Riley
Brock was killed recently and Dora Brock
went back to live at Whitehall.
In the last year or so General Clay
thought a secret foe was after him, and he
filled his house with bowie knives and
guns. On the upper floor he had two field
pieces, and these protruded through the
windows overlooking the approach to the
mansion. They were covered with rust,
bus looked silently out where they have
stood for years.
It was not until Dr. Thomas S. Bullock,
of Louisville, and Dr. Walter O. Bullock,
of Lexington, were summoned to White-
hall that a stranger was allowed to enter
the now tottering old house.
The sight that met their eyes was one of
misery. ‘Inthe large bedrooms the paper
was falling from the walls. Cobwebs were
clinging to the corners and to the tops of
the pictures, and there was dust and dirt
everywhere. Skillets were scattered about
the hearth, chairs were broken and worn
and scattered about’ in confusion. Large
revolvers lying at the head of the bed and
huge bolts on the doors added to the weird
aspect.
In this place the once famous duelist and
statesman lay on a bed, his eyes fixed on
the door. Questions asked him were an-
swered in monosyllables and with unwill-
ingness.
He declared that he was the victim of
the greed of his children, who sought to
keep his child wife Dora away from him
and to get his property.
“Why can’t they be patient ?’’ said the
sorrowing old man. : ‘They will not have
much longer to wait. I have always con-
tended I would live to be 100 years old,
and I am going to doit. I tell you I am
going to live one century.’
His famous old home was in a bad con-
dition. The fences were tumbled down
and weeds have grown up abont the house
until the once beautiful walks can no long-
er be seen. The pastures of blue grass are
unkept. and the fields in gullies.
Fearing he would be poisoned by some
imaginary eneny, General Clay had his
meals prepared on the hearth in his bed-
room, and no matter how hot the weather
the preparations must be under his diree-
tions.
His coffee .was prepared in a little boiler
on the fireplace, in which wood is burned.
He allowed no one to prepare his coffee.
His servants had quarters near by, but
General Clay would eat none of their cook-
ing. The Great Dane dog stood guard
over the house and at the approach of a
stranger began barking.
When General Clay was minister to
Russia he was a court favorite. He was
given many handsome presents, and these
he had always pointed out with pride to
visitors. General Clay gave some of them
to Dora when he divorced her. She sold
them as rubbish. The littlejrocking chair
which he bought her when she first went
to Whitehall as hie ward occupies a place
in the corner of the parlor.
The surviving children are : Brutus J.
Clay, promir ent in national politics, of
eR Miss Laura Clay, noted as an
exponent of woman’s suffrage, of Lexing-
ton; Mrs. Dabney Crenshaw, of Richmond,
Va.; Mrs. Mary Barr Clay and Mrs. James
Bennet, of Richmand, Ky. i
Wed By Hypnotism.
Girl Says Fairman’s Eyes Held Her in Terror—Didn’t
Know of Marriage.
“I am not this man’s wife. Controlled
by some mysterious
tract of marriage was acknowledged,’ said
Miss Lillian Joven, of 456 Ninth avenue,
New York. ‘I signed no paper, acknowl-
edged no signature. Loathing and dread
are the only sentiments I feel toward the
man who falsely claims me as his wife.”
This statement was made by the girl in the
course of astory in which hypnotism is the
feature. :
Notice of Miss Joven’s marriage to James
F. Fairman on June 24th was published in
the New York morning papers on Monday.
*‘It is all right; Miss Joven is my wife,”
insists the alleged bridegroom. ‘‘We were
married under the new law—by contract.
Together we acknowledged our signatures
to the agreement before lawyer Frank M.
Wells, of the firm of Beard & Peret, 115
Broadway. Her mother has come hetween
us, but her love is mine. I shall enforce
my rights and take my bride.”’
Miss Joven, a tall, pretty young girl, is
employed in a Wall street broker’s office
and sings in the choir of the church of the
Holy Apostle.
‘‘I never saw the man, who claims me as
his wife. until last April,’’ said Miss Joven.
‘‘He walked into my office one day, in-
troduced himself as a telephone lineman,
and asked to examine the instrument.
While ostensibly working at the phone he
kept staring at me. His eyes terrified me.
They were clear and gray and as cold as
ice. I felt weak and rose to leave the of-
fice. The feeling passed in an instant and
I almost laughed aloud at my fear.
‘Three days later the same man met me
in the elevator. He bowed respectfully,
and I answered with a slight nod. Ap-
proaching me, he asked about my work,
the hours and the salary. Every word was
a gross insult, coming from an absolute
stranger, but his strange gray eyes were on
mine and I answered. I struggled to choke
back the words, but was powerless.
‘This work will notdo for you,’”’ said
the man. ‘You shall havea position in
one of the city departments, with better
pay and shorter hours.” Murmuring a
woad of thanks I ran from the elevator. I
thought I had seen the last of him.
‘‘From that night he shadowed me every-
where. Learning that I sang in a church
choir he managed to find a place in the
chorus. Early in June our choir gave a
benefit performance at Carnegie lycenm. I
was assigned to one of the leading roles,
but even on the stage I could not escape
my tormentor.
*‘Steadily the influence of his peculiar
eyes has taken possession of mine. Once
his arms grazed mine as he suddenly ap-
peared beside me in Breadway, and the
shock was like an electric bolt. Late in
June he met me and said : ‘Come up to the
office of a friend. I want in introduce
ou.’
“I refused to accompany him until his
eyes caught mine. In that instant every
particle of will atandoned me. Feeling
powerless to disobey I followed him like a
child to 115 Broadway, to the office of law-
yer Wells. There I sat as in a dream for
folly an hour. I saw the lawyer busy
with papers and heard the voice of Fair-
man saying. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, old
man.” No one asked me a question and I
did not take a pen in my hand.
‘“The story that I acknowledged my
signature to a contract of marriage is wick-
edly false. If a signature purporting to be
mine is found affixed to any such contract
it is a forgery. We left the office togeth-
er. Fairman said, ‘I must leave on a busi-
ness trip to Buffalo. When I return I
shall claim you, for you are now my wife.’
‘‘I laughed in his face at the absurdity
of it. Again I told him that I hated him,
and he walked away laughing.”
Fell 100 Feet and Lives.
Boyce Describes Sensations as He Whirled Through
the Air.
Daniel Boyce, aged 30 years, fell 100 feet
through space Wednesday morning, struck
a roof, rolled on to the ground and lives to
tell the tale.
Pedestrians on Broad street and South
Penn Square, Philadelphia, heard a shriek.
The next instant a man fell to the pave-
ment. As men rushed to raise the corpse
the supposedly dead man rolled over, sat
up, gasped for breath and ‘finally spoke.
Although he had been thrown from the
seventh floor of the West End Trust Build-
ing and had struck the tiled roof of the
Hotel Wilmot and an iron fire escape dur-
ing his 100-foot fall, Boyce had sustained
only a broken ankle, a few bruises and
soratches and a nervous shock.
He was removed to the Hahnemann hos-
pital, where he was able to relate his sensa-
tions in the fall.
Erecting a scaffold at the seventh floor,
several boards were thoughtlessly allowed
to project in the elevator shaft. Boyce
was standing on the boards when the eleva-
tor shot up the shaft and struck the planks.
Then the man felt a rush of air in his ears,
bad a kind of shock as he clinched his
hands and seemed to brace himself, and
realized that he was falling. Immediately
he recognized that death awaited him.
“All I could think of was the sudden
stop,’ he said, ‘I was only an instant in
falling. I saw the hotel roof below me. It
came up tome. I knew there would he a
sudden stop. Then it came.” :
Beyond this, although Boyce was per-
feotly conscious when picked up, and, for
that matter, is still conscious, he could
remember nothing except intense pain in
his ankle.
‘All things were away from my mind
except that I must hit something and that
it would come awful sudden,’ he said.
From the slanting roof Boyce rolled over
the steep edge and fell on an iron fire es-
cape. It was on this that he sustained
most of his injuries. Then he pitched to
the pavement, his body turning in this
final drop and throwing its entire weight
on the foot which struck the ground first,
breaking the ankle.
His Great Opportunity.
“Ah, me !"’ sighed the nervous author as
he trimmed the midnight lamp. “I’ve
just been reading an article which says the
sun’s light will be extinguished in a million
years from now. Ain’t that terrible to con-
template ?”’
‘It certainly is,’ replied tue rife. ‘But
you won’t take my advice.”
‘“What do you mean 2’ .
‘‘About saving money. Now is the time
to lay by, with a view to taking stock in
the gas companies.”’—Atlanta Constitution.
The baker dresses in spotless white,
As many of us know :
But the baker if not the richest man—
He hasn't all the dough.
: —St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
lh
0 power which he has |
over me I did accompany him to the office |
of a lawyer, where, they now say, a con- |
Reviving of the Drowning.
Scores of lives are lost every summer in
the rivers and lakes around the country and
many of them might be saved by a knowl-
edge of bow to act in cases of emergency.
~The United States volunteer life saving
corps of New York City has issued a sum-
mer bulletin of inséractions for life saving
from drowning, and if people will read the
following exfracts from it and keep them
in mind when the time comes to act the
number of deaths may be greatly reduced.
A large proportion of the lives lost every
year are of children who have never heen
given any conception of the dangers of the
waters, either in bathing or boating. The
corps has been long and persistently urging
apon parents and school boards the duty
and necessity of education in this direction
and of teaching the young how toswim and
how to act when boating. !
As a result many lives have been saved
the past year by children in their teens.
These rules are important :
1. ‘Do not go out in any pleasure boat
of small or large dimensions without being
assured that there are life saving buoys or
cushions aboard sufficient to float all on
board in case of an upset or collision.
2. With a party, be sure yon are all
properly ' and satisfactorily seated before
you leave the shore—particularly with girls
on hoard. Let no one attempt to exchange
seats in midstream or to put a foot on the
edge or gunwale of the boat to change
seats or to rock the boat for fun. This, by
rollicking young people, has upturned
many a boat and lost very many lives every
year. Where the waters become rough
from a sudden squall or passing steamers
never rise in the boat, but settle down as
close to the bottom as possible and keep
cool until the rocking danger is past.
If overturned a woman’s skirts, if held
out by her extended arms, while she uses
her feet as if climbing a stairs, will often
hold her up whilea boat may pull out from
the shore and save her. A non-swimmer
by drawing his arms up to his sides and
pushing down with widely extended hands,
while stair climbing or treading water with
his feet, may hold himself up several minu-
tes, often when a single minute means his
life. Throwing out the arms, dog fashion,
forward overhand and pulling in, as if
reaching for something that may bring him
help, may at least keep him afloat sill help
comes,
3. In rescuing drowning persons seize
them by the hair or the collar, back of the
neck; donot let them throw their arms
around your neck or arms. If unmanagea-
ble do not strike them, but let them drop
under a moment until quiet,then tow them
to the shore. If unconscious do not wait a
moment for a doctor or an ambulance, but
begin at once. First get the tongue ont
and hold it by a handkerchief or towel to
let the water out, get a buoy, box or bar:
rel under the stomach or hold them over
your knee, head down, and jolt the water
out, then turn them over from side to side
four or five times, then on the back and
with a pump movement keep their arms
going from pit of stomach overhead to a
straight out and back 14 or 16 times a
minute, until signs of returning life are
shown. A bellows movement pressure on
the stomach at the same time is a great aid
if you have help.
Ot course you will at first loosen collar
and all binding clothing. Let someone at
once remove shoes and stockings and at the
same time rub the lower limbs with an up-
ward movement from foot to knee, occa-
sionally slapping the soles of the feet with
the open hand. Working on these lines,
our volunteer life savers have been success-
ful after two hours of incessant manipula-
tion, but are generally successful inside of
30 minutes. Spirits of ammonia to the
nostrils, or a feather tickling in the throat,
often helps to quicken, but we rarely need
anything more than the mechanical means.
Use no spirite internally until after breath-
ing and circulation are restored, then a
moderate use of stimulants or hot tea and
a warm blanket or bed is of the first im-
portance. \
The United States volunteer life saving
corps has distributed several thousand of
its ‘Rescue and Resuscitation Cards,”
through its life saving members, . and, per
mail, it will furnish them to anyone on re-
ceipt of the cost of postage and mailing
tube. But if readers will cut out this arti-
cle and study its instructions and carry it
with them they will be able to meet any
emergencies that may occur upon the wa-
ters.
Wherever, in any State, on any water
ways where people gather for swimming or
boating, three or more expert swimmers
will form a volunteer life saving crew, we
will furnish them, free of expense life sav-
ing buoys and ‘flags and" signs to denote
their stations and buttons and badges to
denote their official positions, and hoats
and medicine chests where needful, con-
taining all remedies to resuscitate the
drowning, at half their cost. ! ta
"A Wail From the Solitudes.
TO A BABY.
So here you are, blinking and winking
those eyes of yours on the unaccustomed
scenes of this ‘world. And a curious old
world it is too, as you will find to your
surprise bye and bye. : 2
As you are a stranger here I will give
you a short account of the scenes in which
you will be expected to take an‘active part,
vis. After sundry astacks of cholera-infan-
tum and teething during which process
you will be furnished with a temporary
set of teeth—and you will find that most of
the other good things of life are of a more’
or less temporary character—will come the
period during which you will be furnished
with the essentials of life, which will be
grip, measles, chicken-pox, mumps and a
long retinue of followers of varioas kinds.
All things considered, my young friend,
the prospect is not a cheerful one. As
you grow older and develop, your several
admiring friends and relatives may declare
you look like anyone from your uncle's
half-sister’s aunt to the barber of Bagdad.
These are but the beginning of sorrows.
You will lose them bye and bye, like your
early teeth. Bat, like the teeth, they will
be replaced with a set of permanent trials
and tribulations that will stick to you
with the adhesiveness of a bad habit. But
do not let me discourage yon, for among
all that I have mentioned you will find a
liberal sprinkling of swimming, fishing,
fire-crackers, taffy, doll babies etc. Asa
whole you will find life very much like a
sandwich, if you know what that is, you
will find the meat of pleasure sliced thin,
highly spiced and placed hetween generous
slices of the bread of care and toil. That
is you will find it so provided you will be
able to survive the caressing onslaughts of
all your adoring relatives and friends of all
ages and conditions of health and breath
and life,
In short, one of the greatest mistakes
you ever made in your life was to come in-
to this world, and it is a pity too, for you
are a likely looking youngster.
KENDRICK J. ARNOTTE.
General Jackson’s Manner.
A Reminiscence Hrs. ‘Harriet Lane Johnston was
Fond of Relating. SEALE holt
‘“The late Harriet Lane Johnston,” said
a New York woman who was an intimate
friend of the former mistress of the White
House, ‘‘having lived so long with her
statesman uncle, James Buchanan, had many
interesting reminiscenses of him and his
times. One of them which she was fond
of relating,” says the New York *‘Sun,”
was an incident told ‘to her hy Mr.
Buchapan of the social career of General
Jackson while he was President. Mr.
Buchanan was in the United States Senate
ab the time.
*‘As Mrs, Johnston related the incident,
a famous Baltimore lady, one of the leaders
in society of that day, and related to an
English family of title and distinction,
had spent a long time in England during
Jackson’s administration, her family con-
nections admitting her to the inner circles
of aristocratic and royal society. George
IV was then King; and a short time before
this lady left England to return to Ameri-
ca she was presented to him. He confided
to her a message to President Jackson,
which be requested her to deliver in per-
son.
‘The reputation his political enemies
had made for Jackson was such that the
lady was most unfavorably impressed,
never having met the rugged old soldier.
In fact, the idea of ‘Jacksonian vulgarity’
was quite the popular one, and there were
many stories of the general’s offensive ap-
plication of it in his social as well as busi-
ness contact with visitors.
‘‘Consequently, this high-bred message-
bearer from the king of England was very
much disinclined to a personal interview
with this President of boorish reputation,
but, having undertaken to carry out the
wishes of the King, she determined to un-
dergo the trial, prepared to be greatly
schocked at what she might see and hear.
Being well acquainted with James Bu-
chanan, she begged him to accompany her
on her mission and introduce her to the
President.
, ‘‘ ‘My uncle escorted the lady to the
White House,” Mrs. Johnston related mer-
rily, ‘and leaving her in the reception
room, he went to the President’s room to
arrange for the interview.
' “ ‘He found the President alone. His
face was covered with a bristling beard of
several days’ growth. He was wearing a
dressing gown which was very much soiled
and greatly the worse for past service. ‘He
was smoking an old clay pipe.
‘ ‘It was a disheartening moment for
Mr. Bucharan, for to present the refined
and elegant lady to the President of the
United State. in ‘such attire and personal
uncouthness seemed to him but little bet-
ter than a national disgrace. He told the
President about the distinguished woman
who bad come to seek an introduction to
him, on an errand from the King of Eng-
land, and made bold to say :
*¢¢ ‘But, General, you ought not to see
her without making an appropriate toilet,’’
‘! ‘The grim old soldier took his pipe
out of his mouth, stretched himself to his
full height, shot a fiery look at his auda-
cious social prompter from beneath his
shaggy eyebrows and exclaimed, with some
forceful adjuncts of language that may as
well not be repeated :
tt ‘Buchanan, I knew a man once who
sncceeded admirably in getting along sim-
ply by minding his own business !"
‘“ ‘He told my uncle to go back and wait
with the lady, and he would see her pres-
ently. Mr. Buchanan returned to the re-
ception room and awaited the President’s
coming in a torture of suspense. /
‘ ‘In a remarkably short time General
Jackson entered the room. He was neatly
shaven and in plain bat correct attire. A
more courtly and dignified presence,
my uncle said, could not well he imagined,
and he was so astonished at the change in
Jackson’s appearance and manner that he
almost forgot what he was there for.
‘ ‘He introduced the lady, however,
and retired to await the termination of the
interview, which, from what she had said
to him, he felt that she was eager to make
as short as possible. He was therefore,
surprise when more than an hour had
passed and she was still talking with the
man she had dreaded to meet as one but
little better than a wild cat.
{1 # ‘She appeared at last, escorted to the
door. by the President. Mr. Buchanan
said she was positively radiant. He hand-
ed her into her carriage, and asked her
what she thought of the grim and muchly
abused Jackson. Gia
ff YT am captivated !’’ she replied. ‘I
never so enjoyed an hour. I have been at
all the courts of Europe, and I can truly
say that at none of them have I ever seen a
man who in elegance of manners could ex-
cel General Jackson. While intensely
dignified, he was so kind that my dread
disappeared in’ an instant, and before I
knew it I was captivated. It will never
do for any one to charge General Jackson
with vulgarity, in my presence'again !”’
‘“ ‘As long as my uncle lived,’ Mrs.
Johnston was wont to say, ‘he delighted
to relate, which he always did with great
relish, and particularly if it gave him op-
portunity to rebuke an ill-natured refer-
ence; to Jacksonian vulgarity, what befel
him and his apprehensive companion from
that interview with Andrew Jackson.’ ”’
The Lingering Department.
‘‘A large and overwhelmingly dressed
colored woman came in here yesterday,’
said the floor walker. ‘‘She was evidently
a stranger in the store, but the world was
hers, and she felt at home anywhere. She
sailed up to me with a rustle of nearsilk
that you could have heard in Alexandria.
‘“ ‘I want to go to the lingering depart-
ment,’ said she. I hesitated till she had
repeated her remark; then I said :
‘¢ ‘Oh, yes; you’ll find the waiting room
at the head of the stairs, over there.’
‘I don’t want the waiting room. I
wants the lingering department,’ she said.
‘Then it dawned upon me whatshe want-
ed, and I sent her three aisles over and two
floors np to the place where things made of
white muslin and lace and be.» ribbon are
sold. And considering the lengih of time
that the average shopper spends over the
choice of a garment up there, I thought
‘lingering’ was as appropriate a word as
‘lingerie.’ !’— Washington Post.
A Bride of Fourteen.
And the Groom But 19— Were Self Married on Thurs-
day.
Thomas H. Lowther and Ethel Schroyer,
of Smock, near Uniontown, were self married
in the office of the register and recorder at
that place on Thursday. The blushing bride
was fourteen years old. The groom was
five years hersenior. The former was very
childish in appearance, and looked as if she
should have been under the parental roof
for several years more. The latter also
looked quite youthful. They attracted
considerable attention around the cours
house.