CCA SROTE EE
[EE
Beworrahit Aatcn
Bellefonte, Pa., March 17, 1905.
FIGGER UP.
If the day seems to carry a burden of woe,
Figger up ;
If its moments seem dragging and terribly
slow,
Figger up,
For I guess you will find if you pause to re-
flect
That there’s *bout as much sun as you've right
to expect ;
If you’ve earned something good, you are
bound to collect—
Figger up.
On the great slate of Time there are many
accounts,—
Figger up—
For various payments of divers amounts,—
Figger up,
And we're apt to collect what is coming our
way, !
Though it’s shine of the sun or gloom of the
day ;
If we dance, you have heard, we the fiddler
must pay —
Figger up.
Look back on your life, though you'd much
rather not,—
Figger up—
And say, if you dare, that the treatment you
got—
Figger up—
Is not pretty near to the treatment you earned.
Who was it the candle incessantly burned,
And burned at both ends, until wisdom he
learned ?—
Figger up.
What's the use of a sigh, or the good of a
whine ?—
Figger up—
Take your medicine now, as I must take mine.
Figger up,
And I guess we may find on the big, final
sheet
There was just as much shine as of gloom for
our feet,
Or, if not, that the treatment we had was but
meet—
Figger up.
—A. J. Waterhouse, in Sunset Magazine for Oc-
tober.
THE OTHER SIDE.
The door-bell rang twice and there was a
sound of raised voices in the hall. Shelton
looked up from his cup of coffee across the
table at his sister-in-law with a ques-
tion in his eyes, just in time to see her
change color. She rose hurriedly, maur-
muring an excuse, and went out, shutting
the door behind her.
babbled on incuriously of the tennis tour-
Damens.
“Papa will take us,’’ said Elsie, shaking
her blond curls with conviction.
“Maybe he won’t have time,”’ said the
more serious Claire.
‘‘Oh, papa always has time for us; and
’sides it’s for the benefit of the sick chil-
dren, and papa said we ought to do all we
can for it—’count of Robbie,”’ conciuded
Elsie trinmpbantly.
Shelton only balf heard; his inner ear
was fixed on that colloquy in the hall, and
when, after a few minutes, Mrs. Shelton
slipped silently into her place, his eyes
studied her face keenly. She kept ber’s
persistently averted, but there was a red
spot on either cheek which had not been
there before, and the hand which lifted the
coffee-pot shook. Her brother-in-law con-
tinued to scrutinize ber pitilessly. There
were little lines about the corners of her
eyes—those were the sleepless nights with
the boy, probably; there were others about
the corners of the mouth, and little furrows
on the forehead, which he bad remembered
as Parian marble,—those were not the boy.
The lips were set in a peculiar line, the
corners were depressed into the habitual
melancholy of those who have forgotten
how to smile. Shelton looked at her so
earnestly that at last she surprised the look
and a hot color came into the thin cheeks.
“What kind of a night did Robbie
have?’’ asked be.
*‘Restless—he slept towards morning; I
was up with him most of the night.”
There was an implied explanation in the
words; Shelton brushed it aside.
“Will too, I suppose?’—he glanced at
his brother’s untouched place.
‘Ne, I did not call bim;—he took that
long tramp yesterday to get Rob autumn
leaves, and came home tired out. Besides —
I couldn’s have slept anyway.
‘‘Here he is now,” cried Elsie, clapping
her hands. ‘‘Papa, papa!”
Claire’s face, too, had brightened; indeed,
a sudden sunlight seemed to fall upon the
room. There are those who seem to bring
both sun and air with them; papa was one
of them. A gay little echo of whistled
melody came in with him, and he stopped
on his way to Lis chair to give a soft little
mischievious pull to the golden and hrown
ourls above the two beaming faces turned
to greet him. The children’s babble ran
over again in a minute.
‘Papa, it is a good day,” said Elsie; “I
bet you a peanus it wonld he, yon know.”
‘And, ob, papa, the ground will be
splendid for tennis,” cried Claire. “You
will be able to go, won’t you?”
Papa laughed and put both hands over
his ears.
‘‘Hold on, chicks; give me time to
breathe and to speak to mamma. Good
morning, Jim. Well, what kind of a night
did you have, Lena? How is the little chap?’
‘She was up all night.”” Shelton spoke
sharply. ;
‘Why didn’t you call me, Lena?’ Papa’s
voice was reproachful. ‘‘You look all fag-
ged ont. I tell you what, chickies, we
muss take care of Robin and let the mam-
ma get some rest after breakfass.’’. And as
papa proposed it, stirring his coffee, and
smiling at them over if, it sounded like |.
the nicest kind of a proposition. Bus then
anything—even a visit to the densist’s—
wounld have had almost a festival sound as
eminating from him. Papa's eyes were so
merry and his laugh was so full of fan, his
brown carls were so soft, and everything
ahout him so debonair and coaxing and
kind. —the individual did not live who had
ever szen papa really cross. Uncle James,
beside him, was like a column of figures
beside a fairy-tale and mamma—even mam-
ma—was like a story which you loved but
somehow depressed yon and took the
smiles out of yon and left yon vaguely un-
comfortable. But papa—papa always un-
derstood ; you could babble over with him
all the fun that was in yon and never be
thonght silly, and he cared how your kites
flew and whether yon won the dence set in
tennis. Mamma often listened so abstracs-
edly, you could nos tell whether she really
heard or not, and if she made an effors,
still you were not sure whether she really
cared; but papa cared. It was all real to
bim. He always had time to go down and
score the match games, and knew every
boy aud girl in the set by name, and he
understood just why Ned Martin’s serve
was ‘‘greas,”’ and where Sune Smith was de-
The two little girls
plorably weak; and from base ball to ping-
pong, and dancing school to the Charity
Fair, he was an aathority on all subjeots,
and one you could ruthlessly consult at all
hours. Uncle James was good at helping
you with your lessons in an awfully serious
way, and mamma was always to be counted
on for buttons and to do up one’s sore
throat, or any other barren necessity of life;
but when it came to living, papa was the
thing.
aa listened now in silence to the
discussion of the tonrnament for the bene-
iit of the hospital—all split up with little
langhs and jokes—which went on while
papa broke his egg and sipped his coffee.
‘Mamma, however, never even smiled, and
presently went upstairs to Robbie.
Uncle Jim swallowed his breakfast
glamly.
‘Poor mamma,’’ said papa, ‘‘she’s all
tired out. Run away lize good little girls
and see if you can’t amuse Robbie. I'll
come as soon as I've finished this egg.”
‘But, papa,’ said Elsie, ‘‘if we take
care of Rob all the morning, you will take
us this afternoon, won’t you? It isn’t go-
ing to rain, truly, papa.’’
Papa laughed again at her eagerness.
“We'll salk about that later on,” he
said easily. ‘‘Come, skitter along.’
‘If you can manage with juss the boys
at the shop, Jim,—he spoke soberly when
the chiidren had gone,—I’ll stay at home
and give Lena a rest this morning; the
poor girl has been up all nighs.”’
¢‘Mossin has been here again with that coal
bill, Will,”” said his brother, sharply, by
way of reply. ‘‘What are you going to do
about it.”’
Papa’s face clouded slightly, but he
threw the cloud off resolutely.
*‘I told Mossin,’’ he said, in an annoyed
tone, ‘‘that I would attend to it at the
first possible moment —’
‘‘He has called three times already.”’
“I'll go round there to-day,’’ said papa,
pushing away his cup and rising. ‘‘It’s
impossible for me to settle juss now—with
Rob needing all kinds of comforts; but for
the poor little chap’s illness I could
have kept things even. Here only lass
week I had to ges a wheeled chair—’’
“I didn’t know that was paid for,’’ said
Shelton.
Papa looked more annoyed than ever,
bus his perrennial sweetness conquered.
‘‘Nobody realizes how these things count
up,’’ he said. ‘It’s all well enough for
you, Jim, with only yourself to think of;
bus I can tell you it’s a very different prop-
osition when it comes to five. And now,
besides the chicks and Lena, here’s the lit-
tle chap with this hip trouble; and I
don’t propose my family shall suffer for
anything that I can give them.”’
Jim Shelton’s lips opened and shut si-
lently. He followed his brother’s graceful
figure across the room.
‘I suppose,’’ said papa, turning at the
door, ‘‘you can spare me this forenoon.”’
“Of course,’’ said Shelton, dryly.
He was still leaning his elbows on the ta-
ble, laying out tennis-courts with the
crumbs moodily, when his sister-in-law re-
appeared and began to clear the table.
The Sheltons kept but one maid.
“Don’t let that coal bill worry vou, Le-
na,’”’ said Shelton abruptly. ‘‘I’ll attend
to 16 this morning.”’
Mrs. Shelton’s thin cheeks flashed. ‘‘It
was not the coal—this time,’’ she said.
“What was it, then?”
“The market bill.”” Mrs. Shelton set
down the pitcher she was carrying and
gripped the table-cloth once or twice.
‘They refuse to leave any more orders
till the account is settled; and the doctor
insists upon strong broth and chicken for
Robbie.”’
‘*How much is it?"’
“Thirty-seven dollars odd.”’
‘Will didn’t pay it, then, last month?”
‘Of course not,’’ said Mrs. Shelton, with
such an accent that her brother-in-law
looked at her. \
¢‘Sit down, Lena,”’ he said. ‘‘You are
worn out.’”’
He himself got up and walked up and
down the room rapidly, casting as he did so
glance after glance at the woman who sat
there staring into the morning suushine
with burned and tearless eyes. In that
light every one of the thin, sharp lines
stood out plainly. Shelton cursed himself
softly under his breath as he looked.
‘Don’t worry,”’ he said aloud, ‘I'll at-
tend to both bills.”’
‘‘Do you think that makes it any easier
for me!’’ said the woman, sharply, and
suddenly her eyes dimmed.
‘For Heaven’s sake, Lena, don’t. Think
of the child,” said Shelton. ‘‘And—so far
as I’m concerned—why should yon mind?
It I died to-morrow, the little I bave
would be all yours and the children’s.
I’ve taken care of that, at least. And I've
got the business where—where I can keep
it from ruin.”
*‘I am afraid of myself,’’ said the woman;
‘‘I—I am beginning to bate him.”
‘Well!—Idon’s wonder.’’ He walked to
the window and looked out. ‘‘It is talking
to the wind; I've tried already every posei-
ble argument, for your sake, but I'll try
again if you say so.”
‘It’s absolutely useless; do you think
that I haven’s tried too—all these years?
No, there is nothing to do. And the chil-
dren adore him—they love him better than
they do me.”
‘*‘They ought to he ashamed of them-
selves.”’ said Shelton, roughly.
‘Why ought they to be ashamed ‘of
themselves?’ —she turned upon him almost
bitterly. ‘‘They love him for the same
things I loved him for—the same things
which I almost hate now!—and the things
are true. He is gay and bright, and always
doing all the pleasant, expensive things
which give them pleasure. Children love
what is cheerful and bright.”’
‘‘It is easy to be cheerful and amiable
—and let someone else pay the biils,”’ ob-
served Shelton, grimly.
‘Isn't it?"
There was a moment’s silence.
‘You would he justified in clearing ont
of is altogether,”’ said Shelton, slowly.
‘So far as I am concerned, I have cleared
out of it,” she replied. ‘‘But—there are
the children.”
**They ought to be told; it’s a shame to
let them grow up cherishing false idols;
they ought to know its all a grand sham.”
‘‘It is not all a sham,’ said bis sister-in-
law, lifting her white face almost sternly.
‘Their part is true; the bond is a true one;
what they love is trne enough, and what
be is to them. And suppose I did take
all that out of their lives—suppose I did
break their hearts and ruin their childhood,
~—do you think they would love me any
the better for it?’
‘They ought to-—~when they know,’ per-
sisted he, doggedly.
‘‘But they wouldn’t; and what could I
give them in place of all this?’?
‘You know very well,”” began Shelton,
averting his eyes, ‘‘that every cent I have
in the world »
‘And you know very well,” interrupted
she, ‘‘that I conldn’t take one—then. But
thas isn’t what I mean. What could I give
them in place of what ha is to them? And
he is their father,—and it is my fault shat
he is. When they are older, they will
judge, iuevitably,—and perhaps they will
be able to judge more fairly and kindly
than I am able to do. Everything irritates
merow. I don’t wonder the children love
him best.”’
‘‘It was always so,” said Shelton, in a
low voice. ‘He was the favorite at home
and the pet at school; he bad only to wish
Ior a heart to win it. He could wheedle
and coax anybody for anything. He could
sell ten sets of volumes any day now to
people who do not want them, while I am
trying to sell eomebody a book he has come
a mile to buy. He had only to wish fora
heart and it was his—child’s or man’s,
or—"’ he broke off abruptly. ‘‘WhenI
think of the home he took you from.” he
began, in a changed voice, ‘of the girl youn
were, and that it has come to this—that
you are afraid to meet your own trades-
people—’
‘‘I am growing bardened to it,’’ she said
with a quiet scorn, which a scarlet stripe,
as if he had struck ber, on either cheek be-
lied. ‘It is only the children I think of
now.”’
‘‘And even them he manages to steal
from you,”’ said Shelton, savagely. ‘It's
outrageous. I don’t know how to win
them, but you—it’s preposterous! They—
they are ungrateful little wretches. If
you wou’t do anything else, Lena, for
Heaven’s sake make a stand there.”
‘Do you think people love by force?—
that I can compel my own children to love
me—or you—better than their father?’’
‘Try, at least to make yourself brighter
for their sakes, if that’s what the little
beasts care for,”’ said the man, grimly.
‘Will is always talking about the duty of
‘keeping near,’ them; ‘sharing their inter-
este,’ —that means going to all the games,
and buying Rob an expensive microscope
last week instead of—’
‘The child has been very happy with it,’
remarked the mother, listlessly.
*‘He has? Heaven knows I don’t be-
grudge him any comfort, but—well, no
matter. This cursed tournament, now—
Lena, go yourself with the children and
cut him ous of it,”’ said Shelton, with
growing rage. ‘‘You can’t take the walk,
but—look here: let me send up a carriage
for once, and you take the little girls and
pretend you care! I'll stay with Rob my-
sell, and see to everything. Come, it will
do you good, make the effors.”’
‘How oan I?"’--it was almost a cry of
despair. ‘‘I tell myself every day I muss;
bus it’s no use. I have lost all energy—
all hope—all courage, and I am so tired, —
so tired of everything.’”” She dropped her
head suddenly upon her arms, and Shelton
sprang to his feet. His hands worked ner-
vously, and he thrust them deep into his
pockets as if for security. He looked dumb-
ly again and yet again at the bowed figare,
and walked away to the door.
‘‘Try, nevertheless, Lena,’’ he said with
a hand on the latch. *“I—I’m going myself
now to attend to the—the business,”’ and
the door closed behind him.
It was noon before ‘‘the business” was
satisfactorily concluded and Shelton had
arranged for an afternoon’s absence at the
shop. His face wore its mo«t determined
expression as he went up stairs to seek his
sister-in-law in Rob’s room.
She mes him on the threshold, holding
up a warning hand; and Shelton, drawing
near, gazed silently.
Propped in his father’s arm, the sick boy
was sleeping sweetly, one hand clasping
a shining object, while the other curled
round his father’s finger, who, cramped in
behind hin bad held him patiently. The
child’s face wore a contented look, but the
father’s was white against the pillows; he
bad fainted quietly.
His wife turned a face as colorless to her
brother-in-law. ‘‘He bas not moved for
fear of disturbing Rob.”’
*‘Lils the child,’’ said Shelton briefly,
slipping an arm beneath his brother; bus
at the soach both pairs of eyes opened.
‘What did Ido?’ said papa, witha
smile. Fainted? Oh, nonsense? And the
little chap was sleeping eo beautifully.
You're all right now, Bobbins, aren’t you?”
Rob rubbed his eyes, and they fell npon
the ehiny thing before them.
‘Look, mamma,’ said the boy. ‘‘Isn’t
it beautiful. My papa got it.”’
“For the tournament,’’ said papa, with
an embarrassed smile. ‘‘You see, I thought
it would please the children, and being for
the hospital, I got it for practically noth-
ing.”
Shelton surveyed the cup—it was of sil-
ver, with the date and name engraved.
*‘It isn’t much of a oup,” said papa,
‘but at any rate it’s something towards
helping the other poor little sick chaps
who haven’t any home like this one.”’” He
stooped to embrace the boy. s
*‘I love you—I love you,’ said the child,
wrapping his arms about him ecstatically,
and papa held him very close. The two
litsle girls came bounding in, dressed in
their best.
“I told them not to disturb you,’’ said
papa to his wife. ‘‘You see I had planned
a little surprise, anyway, and as I had
promised to take them to the tournament,
16 occurred to me that it would be a good
scheme to give them a lunch there, and
give you a quiet day, J.ena. We can get
sandwiches—something simple—for we
mustn’s be extravagant, you know, chicks.
Rob is going to watch for us, and not be
lonely one bit—are you, Bobbins?"
“Isn’t the cap lovely?’ said Claire, soft-
ly, creeping to her mother.
‘And isn’t it lovely of papa?’ said Elsie
clapping her bands. ‘‘Papa always thinks
of the nice things.”’
Papa laughed an embarrassed laugh.
“It’s mamma who is the lovely one, you
know,’ he said, bending down to caress
them; “but at any rate, papa’s little girls
love to flatter him.”’
Shelton bad walked to the window.
‘‘There’s a buggy,’’he said in an odd voice,
“Did yoa order one?’’ :
*‘Oh, that’s'all right,’’said papa, genially.
‘The trolley only goes part way, and the
chicks would be all played ont. You know
Ibave a pull with Sayer’s, so the carriage
costs me almost nothing. We’ll bave a
drive too one of these days, wont we, old
chap, when the doctor lets us?’
The child threw his aims about him
again silently.
“My little boy loves his papa, doesn’t
he?” said papa in a moved voice.
*'S8o do we, papa,’’ cried Elsie, stoutly.
Papa extricated himself from the bon-
quet of arms with a laugh, but his eyes
were dim.
‘Well, come along, chickabiddies,"’ he
cried, gayly. ‘‘Good-hy, old chap; you
look out and we’ll wave when we go—and
the first thing coming back; and if its onr
side that wins we’ll tie Elsie’s blue ribhon
on the whip, so you oan see it ever so far;
bus if it’s the other, we'll tie my white
bandkerchief half-mast.”” And papa walk-
ed out of the room, each of the little girls
with a hand in his.
Robin leaned forward eagerly to watch
their departure from the window. Papa
helped Elsie and Claire into the buggy,
then climbed in himself. Papa gathered
up the reins; he waved a band, the little
fellow waved energetically and fell back
exhausted. It was the mother’s arms which
caught him.
-
‘‘Darling papa,’’ she heard him mutter.
Shelton picked up his hat. “I may as
well go back to the shop,’’ be said.
Leprosy Beaten at Last.
Cured of leprosy, with his face clear from
‘the fearful scarf of the dread disease, as
smooth as a girl’s, and with the glassy
stare gone from bis once expressionless eyes,
Lois Sinet, a 15-year-old New Orleans
boy, of Creole parentage, has been discharg-
ed from the Louisiana Lepers’ Home, as
the first leper who has ever been absolute-
ly cured by less than divine agency in the
history of the world. Success has crowned
the treatment administered in the Louis-
iana Lepers’ Camp by Dr. Isadore Dyer,
consulting leprologiss of the home, and the
world’s authority on leprosy, and a short
time ago the boy was released from the asy-
lum without a trace of the disease for which
he was committed to the home four years
ago.
In the history of the world there is no
greater miracle than the healing of the
lepers. The healing of the ten outcast and
afflicted sufferers at the touch of the Naza-
rene has been one of the staple evidences of
his divinity. Yet here in these modern
days this very miracle has been accomplish-
ed. It was not done at a touch in the
twinkling of an eye, but years of patient
labor and unremitting care were required
to take away the taint of the most awful
affliction under which the world suffers.
Every moment of the day in the life of
this boy and of all the other patients in the
home is hedged about by the regulations of
the physicians and every movement of
each patient, man, woman and child, are
carefully prescribed.
Yes the miracle is not less great on ac:
count of the number of years required to
the physicians and every movement of
perform is. When TLonis Sinet was com-
mited to the home, in October, 1902, his
hody was the color of coffee. He was cov-
ered from head to foos with leprous ulcers;
his face was blotched and puckered up with
open sores. He had noeyebrows or lashes;
his mouth was drawn down sidewise across
his face. When he smiled so light-hearted
—a boy was he, that even in the depth of
this misery he conld smile—she contortion
of his face was most horrible. Now he is
pleasing to look npon. Hig face is olear,
with a slight color in his cheeks, a most
unusual thing in a Creole. The skin is as
tender as that of a baby, having virtually
been made over. There isa new growth of
hair and lashes on his once bald head and
unshaded eyes; and the eye, which was
formerly dull, bleared and glassy, without
expression, is clear, and shadows all the
emotions of his mind.
CURE FOUND AFTER LONG AGES.
Ten other patients at the Louisiana
Lepers’ Home, the only institution in the
world, or in the whole of history, where
an attempt bas heen made to intelligently
care leprosy, are on a fair way to recovery.
‘*Leprosy in all hut the most advanced
stages can be cured at the Lonisiana Lep-
ers’ Camp,’’ says Dr. Isadore Dyer. ‘All
the treatment means is indefatigable per-
severance, not for days, but for months
and years. If the remedy is taken early
enongh. and maintained, leprosy can: he
cured in any case except where the patient
is in the last stages, and where the disease
has made such terrible inroads that the
sources of life bave heen sapped, and there
is not sufficient foundation on which to
build a new body.
‘In ten years the catalogues of incnrable
diseases will have been lessened by one
disease. The awful scourge of leprosy will
have been cut out of the list of irremedi-
able visitations and placed on the same
harmless list with typhus, typhoid, yellow
fever, cancer and tubercnlosis.”’
Eight months ago the announcement was
made by Dr. Dyer, in a lecture hefore
the Jesuit College in this city that leprosy
had been cured. The news was flashed
over the habitable globe within 24 hours.
Inoredulity was expressed by the whole
world. Telegrams came from far-away
Russia and Germany. A prominent Berlin
specialist, hitherto deemed the world’s au-
thority on leprosy,sent a long letter to Dr.
Dyer, asking for information. The Inter-
national Dermatological Congress, which
meets every three years in Europe, and
contains the world’s greatest specialists on
skin dis:ases among its members, sent Dr.
Dyer an urgent invitation to address them
at their conference held last September in
Berlin. His address was one of the fea-
tures of the whole Congress, not only at
that convention, but since its organization
many years ago.
Before that Congress Dr. Dyer presented
a paper on ‘‘Leprosy in North America,”
which contained statistics of the disease
throughout this continent, including
Mexico, Canada and some Central Ameri-
can States.
LEPERS ON NEW YORK STREETS.
The startling information was contained
in the fact that there ate fully 500 lepers
abroad in Louisiana, aud more than 200
walking on the streets of New York.
“*These latter,’ the report states, ‘‘are
entirely without attention by the medical
authorities of that State, who have asserted
that the disease is not contagious in spite
of the world’s experience to the contrary."
These lepers are free to walk abroad upon
the streets of the national metiopolis, con-
tinually spreading the danger of contagion
to all whom they may chance to brush
against in the course of their peregrina-
tions. No care is taken of them; there is
no place where they may receive special
treatment,and the danger is not even recog-
nized by the city’s medical authorities.
“There are 2,300,000 lepers in the
world,’’ said Dr. Dyer, commenting on this
report. ‘‘Three million out of an esti-
mated population of 1,438,680,000 souls,
or one for every 500 souls. Ont of every
1000 persons that walk the habitable globe,
there are two afflicted with this awfal and
loathsome disease, hitherto incurable.”
The figures are appalling : 20,000 lepers
in Japan, 200,000 in India, 2,000,000 in
China and thousands and thousands in the
Philippine Islands. The acquisition of the
Philippines, Guam aud Porto Rico have
made the question of leprosy an important
one to the whole country. Every one of
the Philippine Islands is infected ; one-tenth
of the population of Guam is infected; in
Havana there are 11 lepers now in she 1so-
lation hospital at San Lazardo. There is a
lazaret in nearly every important city in
our new acquisitions. :
DESCRIBES THE FIRST CURE.
Speaking more in detail of the treatment
by which Sinet was cured, Dr. Dyer said :
‘‘Absolute cleanliness, pure food and
regularity of living are enforced. The vir-
tue of the treatment is that it re-enforces
the tissues that have been eaten away by
the disease and enabies the system to work
them off. It is simply she enlistment of
soience to aid Natare in shrowing off the
euoroachment of disease and to rebuild the
destroyed tissues. Constant bathing is a
great feature to enable the skin to throw
off all impurities at ovee.
“Certain ointments ate used in small
quantities, and an extremely limited quan-
tity of drngs is also given the patient.
Strychnibe bas been given regularly in one
to twenty grain doses, and chanlmoogra in
gradually increasing doses, from five to
fifty drops.
‘In the early part of February, 1903, he
developed leper fever. In May, 1903,
dosage had reached fifty drops. In the
summer of 1904 he was taking regularly
twenty-five grains three times a day. He
bad grip in January, 1904. Otherwise he
has been in perfect health.
‘For both males and females, chaul-
moogra oil and strychnine in gradually in-
creasing doses have been given, the treat-
ment varying altogether with the necessi-
ties of the patient. Hot baths formed a
very large part of the treatment, and the
regular diet and exercise, with the excel-
lent fresh air and ozone of the Louisiana
pine woods, are potent factors in the treat-
mens.’’
Attention! Youngsters.
Most young people are willing to do
trifling acts of courtesy and kindness when
they are asked for; even when it is at a
cost of some sacrifice on their part, ‘they
generally make the sacrifice with agreeable
promptness. Bat there is special grace to
be given the favor that is done before it is
asked or without any previons knowledge
of the recipient.
It ie such a pleasure to find things and
without having to beg some one to do them
that the timely thought of somebody is
gratefully appreciated; and, although the
thought may not be easy to give at
first, is grows by practice.
Suppose some older person enters the
room where the feather-hearted younger
person sits, the moss comfortable corner of
the room is found vacated, the relief of
not needing to turn some one else out adds
greatly to the zest of occupying it.
Suppose the eyes that find is harder to
thread needles than they used to do found
needles threaded in the work basket, what
a delightful surprise !
Suppose the stockings, that nightmare to
the busy mother, were suddenly seen to be
sorted, folded, and put away; those to be
mended laid in order, although the invisi-
ble worker might not be able to darn well
enough to mend the rents—another delight-
ful surprise.
Suppose heaps of such little things of the
sort which are always waiting to be done
were silently accomplished, with a loving
wish for the comfort of somebody’s tired
body and mind. It is well worth while
for mothers to undertake the work of ‘line
upon line and precept upon precept,”
which will train their little ones into habits
that will later on prove of solid comfort.
A Bit About Lent.
With Ash Wednesday began the Lenten
season—the fasting time before Easter,
which from the beginning of the Christian
era has been ohserved in the Catholic,
Fpiscopalian, Greek and Oriental churches.
The observance of Lent is an ancient
custom banded down by the early Chris-
tian fathers.
Formerly the usage of Lent excluded all
meats and the fast was strictly kept.
Gradually the roles were relaxed. In
Spain, is is said, during the Crusades and
the wars with the Moors the practice began
of permitting in certain cases the substitu-
tion of a contribution to the holy war for
the observance of the Lenten abstinence.
The term Lent bad its origin with the
Anglo Saxons, who called March ‘‘the
stormy month,’ ‘‘the rugged month?’ and
“the lengthen month?’ or length month, be-
cause in this month the days rapidly
lengthen. Ae the chief period of the fast
occurs in March it was given the name of
Lent. .
Easter Sunday this year will fall on
April 23rd.
Extension of World's Largest Farm.
The largest farm in the world, which
until recently was in Missouri, has been
extended into Iowa, says the Kansas City
Journal. It is owned by David Rankin
and his son, W. F. Rankin, of Tarkio, Mo.
The elder Rankin ia worth $1,000,000 and
has made it by farming. He owns 23,500
acres in Atchison county, and, being still
afflicted with the desire to own more land,
bad to reach into Fremont countv, Iowa,
the other day, when he bought 3,500 acres
more. Rankin never sells. He is a cattle
king, a corn king, a land king, a philan-
thropist and a captain of industry. He
employes about 300 persons, representing
1,500 population.
His Devoted Assistant,
No small credit is due to Dr. Ralph
Hopkins, the young conferee and assistant
of Dr. Dyer. Dr. Hopkins is resident
leprologist, and his regular report to Dr.
Dyer as consulting leprologist form the
only intelligent tabulated records of sys-
tematic observances on systematic medical
treatment of leprosy in existence.
Dr. Hopkins lives among the lepers. He
is risking everything for the cause of sci-
ence and, should he contract the disease,
he would be obliged by State law to re-
main among the lepers while undergoing
his own treatments.
The White of an Egg.
The white of an egg is made up of little
cells filled with albnmen. By heating the
white these cells are roptured, and oxvgen
from the air is inclosed, which gives the
white and light appearance to beaten eggs.
The white of a stale egg will not inclose as
much oxygen, will not be as light and as
easily digested as that of the fresh egg and,
of conrse, less valuable. The importance
of heating the egg in cold, pure air is readi-
ly seen.
Snakes’ Eyes Never Close.
The svuake has one great protection
against assailants, He appears to be al-
ways awake and on his guard. This is ex-
plained by the fact that the eyes of snakes
never close. Night and day, sleeping and
waking, alive or dead they are always wide
open. A snake's eyes are not protected
with lids, but with a strong scale. This is
as clear as glass, and, of course, affords not
the least impediment to sight.
DINNA FRET.
Is the road very dreary,
Patience yet !
Rest will be sweeter if thou art aweary ;
And after the night cometh the morning
cheery,
Then bide a wee and dinna fret,
The clouds have a silver lining,
Don’t forget ;
And though he’s hidden, still
shining ;
Courage ! Instead of tears and vain repining,
Just bide a wee and dinna fret,
—Torquil MacLeod.
——Sabscribe for the WATCHM AN.
the sun is
Lew Wallace’s ¢“Ben-Hur.”
The death of General Lew Wallace® re-
calls the circumstauces of his first visit to
the establishment of Harper & Bros. in
New York with the manuscript of ‘‘Ben-
Hur’ under hisarm He was personally
unknown to the Harpers as that time, and
after introducing himself he explained to
Mr. J. Henry Harper that he had written
a book which dealt with the life of Christ.
Mr. Harper asked him if Christ actually
appeared in the story, and Gen. Wallace
replied that he did. Mr. Harper then re-
marked that this suhject was a delicate one
to treat in a novel, and Gen. Wallace an-
swered that if there were anything in the
story which could offend a fellow Christian
he would rather cut off his right handfshan
publish it.
He then explained to Mr. Harper that
the book hag resulted from a spirited con-
troversy he had held with Robert G. In-
gersol on the subject of religion, in which
Ingersol bad defeated him in argument.
Gen. Wallace went away from the discus-
sion with a troubled mind. For some time
he contemplated writing a theological work
which would strengthen religious faith at
the point of Ingersol’s brilliant attack.
But he decided that theologians could do
that work much better tha he, and besides
bis desire was to reach and help the masses.
He lay awake by night pondering the ques-
tion which had taken possession of his
mind and eventually decided to write a
religious novel in which he could embody
his understanding of religious truth. ‘‘Ben-
Hur’ was the result. When General Wal-
lace had told these interesting facts to Mr.
Harper he left the manuscript, expressing
the hope tbat his own estimate of the work
would be indorsed by the house.
The manuscript was read in the usual
way by the readers of the firm and was
promptly accepted. Gen. Wallace told
Mr. Harper later on that he had written
the book in all sorts of out the way places
—on hoats, railroads, in carriages, wherev-
er he bad an opportunity—afterward
correcting and revising with the utmost
patience and care. It seems astonishing
that he bad never been to the Holy Land
when he wrote ‘‘Ben-Hur,’”’ but worked
out the minute topography of the country
as ii is presented in the story entirely from
mape and reading. He once said to Mr.
Harper that wher eventually he did visit
Palestine he was himself surprised at the
absolute accuracy of his descriptions, which
tallied exactly with the facts, and he was
fond of telling how he found the very stone
which he bad imagined as a resting place
for Ben-Hur at a certain point of the story.
The hook was published on Nov. 12th.
1880, and for the first year the sales hung
fire. It showed no signs of general popu-
larity. Then it began to grow year by
year, and it bas now sold well on to a mil-
lion copies.
st —r—
The Shamrock.
We hear much about the shamrock these
days.
How mavoy of us know much about it?
In the dim past the name shamrock is
supposed to have heen applied to a plans of
the geuns oxalis, or wood sorrel, which
alsp has trifoliate leaves,
Just now numerous pans of oxalis are to
be seen at their best at Hortieultural hall,
Fairmount Park. They are in the East
hall.
Not everybody knows how this plant,
which is commonly known as the white
trefoil and white clover, came to be the
emblem of Ireland.
One authority (Lover) says that when
St. Patrick first preached the Christian
faith in Ireland before a powerful chief and
his people, he did nos think it was to enter
into a theological definition when asked to
‘explain the Trinity, so cast about him for
some simple little image that would en-
lighten rather than puzzle.
So St. Patrick stooped to the earth and
picked from the green rod—which is so
softly green because there is not much sun-
shine and a good deal of moistuare—a sham-
rock.
He held this trefoil up before the people
and bade them behold one in three.
The chief was at once convinced, as were
all his people, and they straightway adops-
ed the faith preached by the interesting
saint, so the legends run.
Why Is It?
Everybody knows how the wheels of a
railroad car are fastened to the axle. They
are shrunk on—that is, put ou hot and al-
lowed to shrink in cooling so thas they are
practically a solid piece with the axle.
These cars go around curves, and it will be
observed that the outer rail covers a great
deal more ground than the inner one, so
that to turn the curves and finish even the
outeide wheel must of necessity travel con-
siderably faster than the inner one. Yet
it is fixed solidly to the axle and cannot
make a fraction of a revolution more than
the other one, yet the axle remains intact,
and the curves are passed with untiring
regularity. Why is it ?
Finest Coffee in the World,
We ought to buy more coffee from Mexico,
for the slopes of the gulf produce some of
the finest coffee in the world. European con-
sumers are more paticular than the people
of the United States. The importers over
there have agents in all the coffee countries
picking over the crop every year and buy-
ing the best grades; while the poorer qual.
ities, which are not wanted in the European
markets, are shipped to the United States
and dumped on docks at New York, Balti-
more and San Francisco for our commission
merchants to get. We use five times as
much coffee as any other nation in the
world, hut we are not go particular as to its
quality.
LIFE GUARDS.—The Life Guaids are
two regiments of cavalry forming part of
the British housebold troops. They are
gallant soldiers, and every loyal British
heart is proud of them. Not only the
King’s household, but yoors, ours, every-
body's should have its life guards. The
need of them is espesially great when the
greatest foes of life, diseases, find allies in
the very elements as colds, influenza, ca-
tarrh, the grip, and pneumonia do in the
stormy month of March. The best way
that we know of to guard against these dis-
eases is to strengthen the system with
Hood’s Sarsaparilla—the greatest of all life
guards. Is removes the conditions in which
these diseases make their most successful
attack, gives vigor and tone to all the vital
organs and functions, and imparts a genial
warmth to the blood. Remember the weak-
er the system the greater the exposure to
disease. Hood's Sarsaparilla makes the
system strong.
——Children are notoriously eager to ac-
quire facts. The following question was
asked by a lad of seven after he had ridden
upon his uncle's knee : ‘Say, Unole Will,
what hecomes of your lap when you stand
up ?""—Youth’s Companion.