Bellefonte Pa.. Nevember 11, 1904. OE THE NOVEMBER CHRISTMAS. You can’t help kind o’ wishin’ dat de time would hurry round When gif’s is on 'de Christmas tree an’ snow is on de ground. Buy dey’ve fixed up an arrangement dat will help de time to pass “Entil de sleighbells ring an’ fros’ is silverin de grass. Dar ain’ no ’scuse foh fidgitin’ impatiently, because A candidate is mighty nigh as good as Santa Claus. He'll use a hoss an’ buggy stead o’ ridin’ ina sleigh, But dar ain’ much need o’ Christmas when you’s got election day. ‘ Tt sho’ly is mos’ comfortin’ an’ cheerful foh to find # LH So many folks in sech a very generous frame ©’ mind. Dey keeps a-axin’ bout yoh health an’ says, “How well you look 1” An’ sometimes even takes an interest in yoh pocketbook. De band is sweetly playin’, an’ de people ma’chin’ by Is almost like a circus, it’s dat pleasin’ to de eye. De wind is tempered to de lamb, jes’ like de Good Book say, . Dear ain’ much need o’ Christmas when you's got election day. —- Washington Star. A MEMORIAL. The sound of the piano filled the big firelis room. A score of ‘‘Parsifal’” lay open on the rack, bus it was his own com- position Laidlaw was playing—a tone- picture, admirably, conceived and execut- ed, vigorous, musicianly, significant, like all the creations of this virile young com- - poser. Following a prelude sonant with the winding of distant horns. came a swift staccato movements, the rapid crescendo of the pursuit, the ringing musio of the chase growing always clearer, stronger, nearer, then the gradual diminuendo, the winding of the horns dying into the distance, fains- er, fainter, farther away, and then silence. Laidlaw’s hands fell from the keys. He ball rose, and bis eyes, turning from the picture above the piano on which they had rested as he played, fell full upon a face pressed against the window beside him—a child’s face, plain and pinched and sallow, yet lifsed out of the commonplace by the rapt look in the big dark eyes. Meeting Laidlaw’s glance, she turned to scurry away through the gathering twilight, but his call, imperative though kindly, stayed her. She paused irresolute, a shrinking little figure toning in with the deepening shadows of the dusk out of which her face, startied and appealing, shone dimly white. ‘‘Come here, child,” the musician call- ed, nct ungently ; ‘‘what are youn doing there in the dusk and cold?” The child approached obediently, though hesitantly. Laidlaw threw wide the low French win- dow and drew her into the cosy half-light of the shadowy room. A thin and shabby little figure the firelight revealed ; the fad- ed shaw! thrown loosely over her head had slipped down disclosing a pale, unchild- like, [foreign face, framed with heavy braids of long dark bair ; she was small and stunted, with none of the soft curves or rosy tints of childhood, but the wistful dark eyes she lifted to Laidlaw’s face were exquisite. ° “I listened,” she said simply. Her English was accurate bus she spoke with an odd little foreign accent, ‘‘today, many days, always, I listen when you play,” ‘‘But,’’ Laidlaw protested, ‘‘you are chilled through—your hands are like ice. Why didn’t you come inside?’ “I could not know the Signor would permis,’”’ the child answered quaintly, “and I bad not the wish to disturb.” Laidlaw’s stern face softened in a smile. It had seemed to him always more a part of herself, more closely inwroughs with her being than any other of her possessions, and somehow the sight of it broughs him a memory of her more real, more livid than aught else. He could recall just how she bad held it close against ber oheek, how her fingers had caressed its strings, how she had made it sing or sigh with joy or sorrow. Al now—that alien hands should ) it, that this unknown child should take it with rude fingers from the case where she had placed it. Was it Jess than desecration? He glanced {rom the beautiful pictured face, to the wistful countenance before him. There was a thors, sharp struggle, then he spoke quietly. : “The Signor permits,”’ he said. In- stantly the child was on her knees beside the case. In truth he need not have fear- ed: Tenderly, lovingly, reverently almost she drew the violin from its place, a look of such rapture on her wizened little face as quite traunsfigured it. A single string had snapped, but there were others in one of the comparéments of the case. Hand- ling the instrument tenderly, as if it had been a flower, the child fitted the G string in its place and began to tune it softly— even these swift pizzicato hints hespeaking the musician, She presently rose and stood uncertainly before Laidlaw for an instant. Then, reading encouragement in his eyes, she laid her cheek caressingly against the shining wood, drew her bow across the strings—and straightway forgot her auditor. At the first quickening, shivering chord, Laidlaw, bimeelf no syro. recognized the musician. Touching the Amati, tentatively at first, then with in- oreasing confidence, she began to play. It was The Swan of Saint Saens. Dnmb with amazement, Laidlaw listened. The child’s cantabile was matohless : her bow- ing perfect. Under her touch the violin wailed and sang; whispered, sobbed and sighed, till the rapture of hearing became almost as poignant as pain. And always that matchless ‘‘singing tone,”’ of which Laidiaw, himself a virtuoso of ability, de- spaired, the flawless cantabile that marks the master. Before the last long-drawn, shuddering note had fairly died, Cara bad dashed into a wild Hungarian czardas, dis- playing a mastery of technique which fair- ly startled Laidlaw. Not even she who had been the Amati’s mistress had played like this. She had had talent—a wonder- ful talent indeed, but here was something more. Clearly Cara had been taught by a master, and, child though she was, she was an artist to her finger tips. Without pause she glided into a little familiar German Lied, a plaintive, simple thing that she had often played. Laidlaw bent his face upon his hands and gave himself to memo- ries. As Cara played, the shabby little figure beside him faded and in its stead came a fair and gracious Presence. As real as life itself she stood before him in her clinging white gown, a woman tall and slender, with. a Madonna face, her cheek laid caressingly against the old Amati, her long dark lashes drooped, a little, tender half-smile curving her lips. Laidlaw turn- ed with a start. Cara, at his side was cay- ing timidly : ‘I have played too long—I have wearied you, Signor. Perdoni I did forget.” Laidlaw caught her bands in his. *‘Child,”’ he said ‘Yon are an artist!” It was a tribute of one musician to another. The great eyes glowed; the thin olive face flushed with pleasure at his praise. She drew a long rapturous breath as she had dene when first she saw the violin. ‘‘Ah, you are good, Signor, and I bave been happy ! I haveso missed the violin. It is as if I had been dumb and had found again the voice. Mille grazias. Signor!” —and before Laidlaw could protest she had caught his hand in her graceful foreign fashion and lifted it to her lips. After that, Cara came daily to play for her new-found friend, in whom she had . not rcoognized the young composes of whom . all America was talking. A wonderful new suite for orchestra had lately set the musical world agog, and from the quiet village where Laidlaw had elzoted to ' make his home among them the building of a chapel here in the village—but it bas eeemed to me shat a truer memorial than that of sense- less stone and mortar would lie in helping. others to perfect themselves in the art she loved. I have decided to found a soholar- ship in a great conservasiore in her mem- ory aud it is to be yours first of all. When you bave finished there you shall go abroad to study with the Maestro who was her instructor. Do yon wish this Cara ? Your mother has given her consent and it rests with you.” The child stood silent for » long moment, a great light dawning in her wonderful ayes; then without a word she sank down, laid her cheek against his Mug and burst into a torrent of tears. dlaw, gently smoothing $he dark bair, waited for the paroxysm to spend itself, and presently the child lifted ber face, glorified by a great joy. to his. “Ah, Signoor,”’ she said, ‘I have no woids—only my heart speaks. You have given me what I nross desired.”’ _ - After a listle she rose and’ began to gath- er up the scattered music. When she lift- ed the violin to lay it away, Laidlaw noted that she held it long as if loath to put it aside; then, with a touch that was a oca- ress, sbe laid it gently down and closed the case. Both knew that the noble Amati must remain mute through the long years till Cara should return, and somehow it gave him a keen pang to see the violin— her violin—shut away to silence again. It was like witnessing the burial of a human friend. He saw a reflection of bis thought in Cara’s face ; saw the hungry look with which she regarded the closed case, the lingering touch with which her fingers oa- ressed 18. His eyes turned with a ques. tion in them to the portrait above the piano. The sweet lips seemed to smile an answer. Laidlaw sat very still for a long moment, then rising he crossed the room, lifted the violin and held it ous to the won- dering child. ‘Is is yours, Cara,’”’ he said simply, *“'I think she would bave it 80.”—By Leigh Gordon Giltner, in The Pilgrim. Spelling. Oid Fashioned Spelling Bees Wculd be a Good Thing. There is much complaint that the rising generation can’t spell, says the Albany True, there was complaint thas Argus. some of the forefathers could not spell. George Washington, Andrew Jackson and other men eminent in our history conducs- ed a spell-as-you please. Ancient men of letters were poor spellers, in many in- stances. The average man has gone down hill, it appears. Perhaps the memory of the tingling cheeks, and the ready birch in the teacher’s hand, which accompanied ‘‘a spell down,’’ makes we children of an old- er growth think that we learned to spell better than do these youngsters, nowadays. Usunally, with the old methods, it did not pay to miss the same word twice. *‘Why is it,”’ the question used to go, ‘‘that all the bad spellers hecome sign painters?’ It is hecause of the strict union rules, nowadays, that the bad spell- ers have deserted sign painting and over- flowed into the other occupations? Have modern methods of teaching overlooked the desirability of teaching boys and girls spelling and the three Rs, in cider to cram their little heads with ornamental accom- plishments ? There has been a widespread belief that the restoration of the old-fashioned spell- ing bees, ‘‘spell up and spell down,” would be a good thing. The Brooklyn Eagle thinks so to such an extent that it bas offered prizes, on condition that the public school principals will let their pu- pils take part in ‘a series of spelling matches. But without success. The prin- cipals do not take kindly to the ndtion. The Eagle says : ; “The nub of the master is just this: The public school children cannot spell. The principals of the high schools know that they cannot spell, as does everybody else who has occasion to receive letters from them. Ifa series of competitions were held, this ‘most troublesome fact of the school situation to those on the inside From the Funny Side. ‘Did Edith marry a sitle?”’ ‘‘Well, she married Rounders, who is known about town as a prince of good fellowes.” Merchant “(to hawker)—‘‘Call those safety matches? Why, they won’t light. at all!” Hawker—*'Well,.wot could: yer ‘ave safer?” ‘He declares his wife made him all thas he is.” “Quite likely; and I should judge that she didn’t waste more than half an hour on the job.”’ — ‘‘He says be bas: more money than he knows whas to do with. ‘‘Ah! then he isn’t married. A man may have more money than he knowe what to do with, bat if he hae a wife she’ll know a thing or two.”’ Tramp—‘‘It is needless to ask the ques- tion, madam. You know what I want.” Lady—‘*Yes, I know what you want badly, bat I’ve only ane bar of soap in the house and the servans is using it. Come again some other time.”’ ‘‘How much did you say?” queried the man who had finally decided to dispose of bis horses and buy an auto. ‘‘The price of that machine ie $2,800,”’ replied the dealer. ‘‘And—er—do_ you warrant it gentle and sound and net. afraid. of the cars?’ > > “Do you have much trouble “in keeping’ your boy off the street?’’ asked Mrs. Gada- bout. ‘‘Yes,’’ responded Mrs. Homebud- dy, as she scrubbed away at little Johnny, ‘and I also bave considerable trouble in keeping the street off my boy.” Rising Politician (whose friends have given him a brass band serenade): My fellow citizens, this spontaneous tribute sonches me deeply. I amata loss to find words to express my thanks. You have laid me under obligations I shall never be able to repay. Leader of Brass Band (in alarm): Bat dis vas to pe a cash dransaction, mein friends ! : The brawny Irishman bad been hanging around the dock for two hours, seeming to be especially interested in a huge anchor which was lying on the wharf. Why don’t you move on, Pat? said a dock laborer. There's no jobs to be had here today. Divil a bit will I stir from this place, re- plied Pat, till I see the man that’s going to use that pick! Yis, said Mis. Clancy, Pat and I have parted forever. I went to the hospital to ax after him. I want to see my husband sez I—the man that got blowed up. Yez can’t see him, sez the docthor; he’s under the inflence of Ann Esthetioks. I don’t know she lady, sez I, mighty dignified loike, bus.if me lawful wedded busband can act loike that when hé's at dith’s door; I'll have a divorce from him. : Some years ago an English traveler vis- iting the Transvaal asked a man whom he met to directs him to the President’s house. : Youn, came the answer, shust ko on dill | you comes to a road vot koes around der skoolhouse; but yon don’d dake dot road. No, you ko on till you see der pig barn, ‘shingled mit shtraw, den you durn der road down der field und ko on dill you comes to a pig red hoose; dot ees my Broder Hane’ hoose.” Don’t ko in dere; ko strate on dill you comes to der baystick mit a farm. Vell; he don’t live dere. But vhen you get furder yon see a hoose on der top of a leedle hill, so you ko in dere und asks der ould voman inside. She vill tell you pester as I can. : A teacher in an interior city recently re- Found Big Cave of Kxtinct Animals, American Museum Expeditions Happen Upon Speci- mens of Mammals that Lived 2,000,000 Years | are call Museum of Natural Histo {rom the Rocky Mountains. animals heretofore undiscovered, besides complete skeletons of monsters of which there were in the world’s museums pre- of complete and Osborn -notcbed hy the cross section of an old river ‘and ventured out too far into the treacher- of titanothere, two with part of a skeleton, and two skulls of carnivores related to the dog family. borseof the Bridger, bus thus far only frag- best being a palate with complete set of upper teeth. : Mr. Barnum Brown, well known through his explorations in Patagonia and in Mon- desired to obtain a complete skeleton of one saurs. search was made in the Fort Pierre shales and from Fort Pierre sales near Edgemont, 8. D., we obtained the greater part of a and neck complete, about fifteen feet long. One complete paddleand part of the pec- toral girdle, with some doreal vertebrae, jaws, one complete paddle and disassociated were foond in this formation—a young | paddles‘ and ‘a mosasaur specimen’ with oluding pelvis, vertebral column and limb ‘sas, and in a crevasee in a cavern of the pleiseocene age were found ten complete and carnivores, about one thousand jaws, preparation of a section of this remarkable Ago—Twp Carloads of Fossils. Foot Gear of the Japanese. The Jupancse shoes, or * ’ as the , Bays the London, i ny one of the singularly distinctive features of o expeditions under Professor Henry Japanese life which will strike the observer yesterday wo car! viously only fragments. Most remarkable was the discovery of a cave in New Mexico containing thousands whole menagerie of extinct animals. Prof. orn gave the following account of the expeditions and their results : ‘The mammal expedition into the Fort Bridger region, Wyoming, was in charge Three : v : . with wonderment as soon as he sees them Fairfield Osborn returned ‘to the American ooming slong the r oad way or hears tem i tablesqu . , They. brought orVpinE the F1a%e with an irr : Sirna. 2 his nerves. shudder. Neverthe- of skeletons of many less, ands though the shoes appear, they are of a kind constituted to make fees as hard as sheet iron and ankles as strong as steel girders. The shoes are divided into two varieties: Ihe low shoe is called the yumage and is only used when the roads are in entary skeletons of 8 | 005" condition. The high shoes, named ‘‘ ashida,”’ are worn when the weather is rainy and the roads are muddy. Both kinds bave a thin thong attached to the surface to secure them to the feet, which of Dr. W. D. Matthew and Mr. Walser | re $herefore not coverrd as if they were Granger. This ie-a classic locality. Spec- in shoes, but are lefs exposed to atmos- pheric conditions. The ‘‘komageta’ re- ial search was made for complefe remsins. semble somewhat the Larcashire. clog, and of the great horned quadruped which in- habited this region in the cocene period. As a result portions of two skeletons of their construction merely entails the ocarv- ing of a block of wood to the proper size. The ‘‘ashida,’’ however, are of more com- uintatherium were obtained, also a fine plicated design. lower jaw. MET ITS DEATH IN BAYOU MUD. “One of these skeletons was found in They have two thin pieces of wood, about three inches high, at, right angles to the soles, and occasionally, in the case of such a position that the animal muss have priests or pilgrims, only one bar attached. mired in what was formerly a soft, tena Some of the. ‘‘geta’’ worn by little girls cious mud but is now an olive green shale. | 5.0 painted in many colors and others have “Not far off along the steep face of the | 5 giny bell banging from a hollow place at bad land oliff this shale stratum was the back, which, as it tinkles in a mystic channel fitled with bard lone, and ayy aeraide ‘the approach’ -of children. r makes are covered with mats mey imagine tbat the animal came down | 536 of “panama. The highest price along the firm sand of the old river bed | amounts to about ten yen, or $5, whils the ous mud of she hayou. “There were also found the skeleton and ‘cheapest is less thanten sen, or a few cents; bus then the “‘geta’” will not lass longer than a month and once out of re- two fine skulls of hyrachyus, a primitive pair can never be mended. running rhinoceros; the skull and - part of Learning to walk on a ‘‘geta’’ is an ex- the skeleton of a hyopsodue, either a emur ceedingly difficuls process. Indeed, it is or an insectivore; three skulle of isectolo- | far easier to aoquire skating or stils walk- phus, a primitive Rocky Mountain tapir; | ing. The average child in Japan takes six skulls of palacosyops, av early type |gahous two mouths before being able to move along on the natural footgear, and the little ones repeatedly slip from the wooden blocks. falling to the ground, ‘Diligent search was made for the fossil | which seems 10 their miniature imagina- tions a considerable distance beneath them. mentary Specimens bave been found, the | A}ghongh foreigners usually take with DISCOVERY OF PLESIOSAURS. ‘‘In charge of the reptilian search was tana for fossil reptiles. It was especially of the great sea reptiles known as plesio- *‘Continning the work begun in 1902-03, plesiosaur skeleton, including skull, jaws were also found. *‘In the same locality we obtained an- other plesiosaur specimen having skull, vertebrae. Two other important specimens plesiosaur having both girdles and two skull, jaws, and part of the skeleton .un- crushed. This formation yielded twenty- two boxes of fossils. sia r ‘In beds near the Judith River in Mon- tana was discovered the Skeleton of a large herbivorous dinosaur related to the iquan-. odonts of Europe, Jom trachodon, in- bones. : % iv FISSURE CAVE FULL OF MAMMALS. ““The party continued down into Arkan- breast bone from a youn last spring. The bone is greatly discol- ored, dark lines covering both sides. Very few light spots are shown. The heavy dark lines indicate a severe winter, heginning early in November and lasting late in the spring. ~ . readiness to the customs of Japan, they are absolutely unable to manipulate the peri- lous ‘‘geta.”’ Reading’s Goose Bone Prophet's Proph- ecy. Elias Hartz, Reading’s veteran ‘‘Goose Bone Prophet,’’ on Tuesday made his ‘an- nual prediction. His announcement was awaited with interest by scores of persons who ‘have more faith in: his: predictions thav in the Weather -Bareau at Washing- ton or. the time-honored almanacs. “Fill your coal bins, and do it quickly, for we are going to have a very severe win- ter,’’ is his latest warning. Several days age Mr. Hartz received a goose hatched The few light spots’ indicate a short duration of mild weather. Mr. Hartz said : “I bave been making my predictions from the goose bone 65 years,and never once missed. I have great faith in the goose. I was taught to read it when a yonng man, and have followed its lines ever since. The bone I secured this fall is: very dark in color, and we will have a severe winter. Those who have not yet dope go had better lay in a good supply of coal and wood, for they will need is. My prediction that last winter would be a severe one was correct, and the bone of this year is still darker than that of last and many fragmentary skulls of rodents | £411.” There will be numerous heavy snow- thousands of limb bones and vertebrae, storms and an immense ice ¢rop.”’ Mr. Hartz ‘will celebrate his ninetieth Feprsenting nearly forty species of ani- | birthday anniversary next week. He is mals, : well preserved for his age. Filty years ago ‘‘Materials were brought back for the | hig predictions of the goose bone were only of local interest, but his fame bas spread “The Signor is flattered that you care to | 98me romors that hehad resnmed work | might be revealed to the great body of | io 20" following letter: cave which will show the bones in posi- | far and wide, with the resuls that farmers listen,”” he said. He drew a low chair - close to the fire and stirred the smoldering logs into a blaze. ‘Sit down,’’ he commanded. The child obeyed, stretching her hands—the long, . slender, nervous hands of the musician, Laidlaw noted—to the hlaze. He touched the bell. ‘‘Another cup, Dawkins,’ he said to the man who appeared with the tea tray. ‘*You will honor me, Sigonorina? Or will your mother miss you perhaps and be alarmed ?”’ “The madre knows,’ the child answer- ed quietly, ‘‘she permits that I listen daily if I am very still, if I do not annoy. I am often here till quite late—¢ill the Signor bas finished his practice. Then I run quickly home. Itis not far and I have no fear.’’ : Laidlaw watohed ber keenly as she ate and drank, eagerly, yet with a certain daintiness that zomported well with she grave courtesy of her manner and the for- mal precision of her speech.” Over the tea- cups, he learned that she and her widowed mother had lately come to live in a small brown cottage which lay just without the boundaries of his own estate, that the child’s name was Cara and that, small as she was, she was past fifteen. She pres- ently leaned back in her chair and let her eyes wander about the rich, dim room with its subdued tones, its costly fornishings, booklined walls and polished floor, until at last they fell upon a painting above the massive grand piano—she portrait of a lady as beautiful as the pictured Madonna her father bad cherished, —which dominat- ed the whole. The look of childish won- der, of rapt admiration with which she gazed at that radiant countenance endear- ed her as nothing else could bave done to the man, whose eyes had followed hers. Her gaze had lighted upon an object which stood beneath the portrait—a closed case holding a violin. The child got to her feet and stood with clasped hands regard- ing it, a look upon her face that Laidlaw recognized—the look the musician turns upon the instrument of his choice, the voice of his musician soul. As if drawn irresistibly she moved a little toward it, then paveed and looked toward her host. “If I might—if the Signor would per- mit’? —she said hesitantly. Laidlaw’s face darkened. He did not speak at once. ‘‘Ah,” she cried quickly, ‘‘It is perbaps of much value. Bat you need not fear, My father trusted me always with his gnarne- rius, even when I was very little, know- ing I loved it too well to permit that it should be hurt. Signor, I loved it as if it lived, but they sold it when he was dead. I bave not played since. I—but I pre- sume. Perdoni, Signor.” The light had died out of her eyes and she turned list- lessly back to her place. Laidlaw sat with his head bowed upon his hand. The violin—a priceless Amati— had been hers. It had lain untouched in its case, mute, soundless, voiceless, since ber hand, now stilled, had placed it there, upon the opera he had laid aside as the death of the wife who bad been his idol and inspiration. In truth the hand of a ohild was leading him back to the familiar paths, back to the world of music which must henceforth steed him in lien of human interest and happiness. The old love for his art, which had lain dormant woke to life again. He unlocked the cabinet which held her music and together he and Cara played the classic melodies she had loved; and always as they played her presence seemed to fill the room to hover like a benediction upon his unguies spirit. adumbrated in Laidlaw’s brain took shape and form. Through his garrulous house- keeper he had learned Cara's history. Her mother, the daughter of a proud, old house bad eloped with her young Italian music- master; her family and friends had cast ber off; years of hardships, struggle and privation had followed; adversity had seemed to pursue them until at last the husband had died, leaving his wife and child to face the world alone. The wife, who through these crucial years had shown a courage worthy of the traditions of her house, had since managed to earn with her needle a scanty living for herself and the child. Laidlaw heard and pondered. Then one day he walked down to the small brown cottage, talked for an honor with Cara’s mother, and when he turned his steps homeward that which had been but fancy had become a fact. That night, when Cara bad finished play- ing, he called her to him. *‘Cara,”’ he said, ‘Your mether has left me to tell you that you are to go away at once fo give Jou life to your music.” The child ooked at him with wonder tempering the adoration with which she habitually re- garded him, but she did not speak. He turned his eyes upon the portrait and her gaze followed his. Long ago he had told Cara of her. Never since her death had he uttered her name to any one, but, some- how, to this strange, unchildlike creaturs is had been easy to speak of her. From the first the child bad been possessed of an old fancy that the portrait was not an insensate thing; often she turned and spoke to it as if it lived; and strangely enough her fanoy helped Laidlaw to realize the elusive Presence which, some- times near and real was often impalpable and remote. One night, as Cara was laying the violin tenderly in ite case, she bad lifted ber gaze and looked long into the smiling eyes of the portrait above her. Then she turned to Laidlaw. *‘Signor,’’ she said, ‘‘somehow I seem to know that she is glad that the Amati has found again its voice.”’—- Tonight the knowledge that what he had planned would have pleased her was with bim as she looked at the pictured face. ‘‘Cara,’’ he pursued softly, ‘‘I have tried to think—since she went away—of some- thing which shounld be a fitting memorial to her. I bad thought of many things— Day by day, a project at first bus | parents aud taxpayers, Then there might arise such a hugh and cry for common sense and the fundamentals of education as would annoy the authorities who now make ont our scientific and philosophical course of study, which slights spelling for general information about everybody from Confucius and Buddha down to Admira Togo. If the school should once begin tol make time enough for fundamentals, of which spelling is earily first, there is no telling how many fads and frills would bave to be cut out to find the time for es- sentials.’’ i Stoessel A Wonderful Man. An influential merchant named Kratz, from Port Arthur, gives an excellent de- goription of life in the town, says the London Telegraph. He declares that all hearts beat at the bidding of General Stoes- sel, and all realize that he is the one strong man who alone can save the situation. Socially, however, he is not liked. General Stoessel is now getting slightly gray. His tall, bulky form, clad in a bril- iant general’s uniform, is seen daily in the streets, but when he is proceeding to the forts he is ‘dressed in simple gray, and is frequently taken for a private soldier. He is described as the ‘Russian Lord Kitch- ener,’’ a man of few worda, huta stren- uous worker. People say that General Stoessel never sleeps, for when all the city is in darkness a light burns in his head- quarters. ; His administrative work finished, Gen- eral Stoessel prowls around the forts and makes his bed in some trench or rampart. Next day, with Madame Stoessel, a little figure clad in black, he proceeds around the hospital wards, speaking words of sympathy to the inmates. He insists thas the officers shall perform their duties strios- ly, and the clubs have been closed. He takes a prominent place in the firing line, and when officers in charge of detached expeditions fail to return he leads their men himself successfully. His rule is, *‘What I order can be done.” The soldiers Jove him, but the officers resent the fact that owing to his recent pro- motion he is vested with the right of the award of decorations. After a recent assaunls the divisional commanders presented their recommendation, their aids-de-camp head- ing the lists. General Stoessel crossed out the aids saying: ‘‘Aids cannot be aids and in the firing line too. They are good aids, perhaps, but it is not an opportunity for dis- playing valor. I cannot accede to their re- wards.’’ Friction resulted from this deni- sion. Of the 200 women who remain in Port Arthur nearly all are banded under the leadership of Mme. Stoessel as Sisters of Charity. They have pledged themselves not to leave, and are working heroically. The climate favors rapid recovery from wounds. The permanently disabled men become the guests of the residents. General Stoessel, it issaid, is of Swiss, as Todleben was of German extraction. Sur and Frend—Do the Carnage libber- ary lend Books teechin Mattbewmatios, to Outside your Citie? I want Onlie books on Matthewmatics, as I am all rite on spelling and am a presty good Grammati- can if Ido say it Miself. I kin spell and Grammariez but Matthewmatics is one to Much for me. During one of my visits through the country districts, said the professor, I bap- pened to reach a small village where they were to have a flag raising at the schaol house. After the banner bad been ‘‘fluang to the breeze’’ there was an exhibition of drawings which the pupils had made and of the work they had done during one year. : - The teacher recited to them the landing of the Pilgrims, and after she bad finished she requested each pupil to try and draw from his or her imagination a picture of Plymouth Rook. Most of them went to work at once, but one little fellow hesitated, and at length raised his hand. Well, Willie, what is it? asked the teacher. ; Please, ma’am, do you want us to draw a hen or a rooster ? ; Memory Hard to Beat. In the days of Barnum, an old ‘“‘auntie”’ lived in East Tennessee who was reputed to be of great age. Like all her kind she was extremely proud of the Jdistinotion,and never underestimated her age in the least. She bad outgrown that weakness decades . : past. Barnum heaid of her, and concluding thas if she was as old as ramor made her she would be a valuable acquisition to his show, he sent an agent down to make an investigation. She caught the direction of the wind very promptly, and was prepared for any test question that might be asked. Gradually the agent led up to the crucial interrogatory, and at last said: Ai ‘‘Aunty do you remember George Wash- ington?" & Fea vs UL “Does I recomember George Washington? ‘W'y laws-a-massy, Mistah, I reckon I does. Faster, ortens 17 ‘Fer Toe, Sesed him. We p er ev'ry day when he was a 1i’l chile.” ? ‘‘Well, do you remember anything about the Revolutionary war?”’ ‘‘G’way, chile! Yes,indeed I does, Honey. I stood dar lots er times, an seed de bullets flyin’ aroun’, thicker’n rain drops.” ‘‘Yes—well, how about the fall of the Roman empire? Do you recollect any- thing about that?’ *‘The old woman took a good, long breath. In faot, it amounted to a sigh. She reflected for a few moments, and said : ‘De fact is, Honey, I was purty young den, an’ I doesn’t have a very extinct recommembrance ’'bout dat; but I does ‘member, now dat you speaks of hit’ dat I did heah de white folks tell about hearing’ some’pn drap.’’ tion as they were found. They include | many living species of animals, such as bears, weasels, pumas, deer, foxes, wolves, beavers and rabbits. “The species of these animals were part- ly of living kinds avd some kinds which bave disappeared sinve this remarkable cave collection was deposited. As proof of geological age there were also found a keleton of the extinct sabre toothed tiger, ‘recognizable, although very much orushed; also the skeleton of a musk ox. Remains of living species of peccaries were also The nintatheres which Professor Osborn mentions, of which the firs¢ complete skeletons ‘were found, were great quad- rupeds with elephantine bodies, very small brains, four horned skulls and powerful tusks. They lived around the ancient Bridger Lake, Wyoming,” in the middle eocene times of 2,000,000 years ago.—New ' Danger ot White Bread. I was informed afew weeks ago bya gentleman who owns large flour mills that the craze for white bread is being carried to such extremes that many mil- lers are pu ting up expensive machinery for the purpose of actually bleaching the This is being done by ozone and nit- rous acid, the object being to make an artificially white bread and to enable the grain to be used which would otherwise give a darker color to the flour. The development of the grinding pro- cess during the lasé few years has been such that the old-fashioned stones have been replaced by steel rollers actuated under great pressute. The germ and other most nutritive con- stituents of the wheat are thus to a great extent abstracted and the valuable charac- ter of the bread greatly reduced. It is the opinion of many who can speak with. authority on the subject that bread, ‘instead of being, as formerly, the ‘‘ataff of 'life,”’ has become to great degree an indi- gestible nou-nutritive food, and that it is responsible, among other causes, for the want of hone and for the dental troubles in the children of the present generation. It is doubtless true that the variety of food now obtainable in a measure compen- sates, in the case of those who can afford i, for this abstraction of phosphates ; bat I think I am justified in stating that every medical man, if asked, will give it as his opinion that very white bread should be avoided, and that ‘‘seconds’’ flour, now almost unprocurable, should only be used either for bread or pastry. Thanksgiving Day. WASHINGTON, Nov. 1.—The President to-day issued the Thanksgiving Day Proe- lamation, setting aside Thursday, Novem- ber 24th, to be observed as a day of festival and Thanksgiving by all the people of the not only of this State but of other States await bis prediction each year. Mr Hartz says that too much money is wasted in establishing high-priced weather bureaus. He said: ‘‘The goose bone never fails. The great trouble is some people fail to appre- ciate it.”? : Queen Bees Worth $200. Just as there are valuable strains in borses,cattle and other stock, eo there are ‘varieties of queen bees which are worth many hundred times their weight in gold. The most valuable strain is the Italian, and many Italian bee farmers demand and receive without question prices ranging from $50 to $200 for a single queen bee of a certain kind. Such bees are sent all over the world. The owner of a bee farm near Ottawa, Canada, goes to Europe annually and brings back with him bees of an ag- gregate value of thousands of dollars. He is enabled through the agency of an Italian firm to effect an insurance upon the moss valuable of his queens. This bee farmer has many strange exper- iences in connection with the assistants he is obliged to engage. Of course all bee keepers must submit to a certain amount of stinging. But in some cases the poison in the sting acts directly upon the assist- ants and makes them alarmingly ill. Oth- ers are immune, though stung hundreds of times. Bee farmera are often applied to by persons suffering from rheumatism who wish to place themselves in the way of be- ing stung. And, strange as it may seem, the viras of the bee sting does often act as a oure to persons suffering from serious at- tacks of rheumatism. North Star and Dipper. The pole-star is really the most import- ant of the stars in our sky, say’s Country Life in Amerioa; it marks the nerth at all times; it alone is fixed in the heavens; all the other stars seem to swing around it onve in twenty-four hours. But the pole- star or Polaris is not a very bright one,and it- would be hard to identily, but for the belp of the so-called pointers in the ‘Big Dipper’’ or ‘‘Great Bear.” The outer rim of the Dipper points nearly to Polaris, at a distance equal to three times the space thas separates the two stars of the Dipper’s outer side. Varions Indians call the pole- star the ‘‘Home Star’’ and ‘‘The Star That Never Moves,”” and the Dipper they call the ‘‘Broken Back.’’ The Great Bear is also to be remembered as the Pointers for another reason. It is the hour hand of the woodman’s clock. It goes once around the north star in about twenty-four hours, the reverse way of the hands of a watch; that is it goes the same way as the sun,and for the same reason—that it is the earth that is going and leaving them behind. ——It is not you who possess riches, but United States, at home and abroad. your riches which possess you.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers