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.