Bellefonte, Pa., July 21,1905.
EE A CEs,
THE ROAD’LL TURN SOME DAY.
I know the road is rocky,
And the hills are hard to climb ;
1 know the feet gét bruised and sore
And it takes ‘‘heaps 0’ time.”
I know the burden’s heavy—
Oh, you needn’t tempt to say ;
But just keep a-plodding onward—
For the road’ll turn some day !
I know that homesick feeling,
And the ache you bear alone,
1 know your heart is breaking
By the bravely stified moan.
1 know the arm you leaned upon
Has now no power to stay ;
But just keep a-plodding onward—
For the road’ll turn some day !
I know the structures you have hewn
Of youth-day dreams lie low ;
1 know you see their ruins stare .
Everywhere you go.
I know the sunbeams round your path
Long since have ceased to play ;
But just keep a-plodding onward—
For the road’ll turn some day !
There's a day a-coming shortly,
When there’ll be no hills to climb ;
When there’llbe no weary burdens
To be tugging all the time ;
When the heart will cease its aching,
And your sorrows melt away—
So just keep a-plodding onward,
For the road’ll turn some day!
— Exchange.
SS. .
UNCLE NAT.’
“Now, Uncle Nat, you just go in the
front room and rest yourself. I'll take
hold here,’”’ and the old man was pushed
with gentle insistence away from the churn.
‘‘You ain’t looking real well this morn-
ing.” ;
“Yes I am, Elviry; I want to doit,’ th
old man pleaded, but the door opened just
then and a woman’s entrance stopped dis-
cussion. ¥
“Pm about beat out; the. wind like to
took me off my feet,”’ the newcomer said,
as she dropped into a chair and began fan-
ning herself vigorously with her sun-bon-
pet. ‘But I thought I must come over,
Nz Birdsall; I heard you was thinking
of"’'—
‘‘Here, Mis’ Slocam, take this,”’ Elvira
hastily interposed, handing her a huge
palm-leat fan. ‘‘Now, Uncle Nat, you go
and lie down on the lounge and see if you
can’t get a little nap. You said you didn’t
get any sleep last night. Mercy sakes ! let
me unpin that apron,’’ she added laugh-
ingly.
The old man submitted without further
remonstrance. Elvira followed him to the
‘front room.” With quick movements
she pulled down the green paper shades,
picked np a woman’s hat and jacket from
the lounge and withdrew, carefully closing
the door after her.
“TI knew what she was after,’”’ the old
man said bitterly. His habit of talking to
himself was a great comfort to him. He
was always sure of a good listener, he said
in his jocular moments. ‘‘She saw her a-
comin’, and that’s why I was too sick to
charn, but I shan’t go to sleep, I ain’t
sleepy,’’ and he seated himself resolutely
in a stiff-backed chair. ‘1 wonder what
Elviry’s goin’ to do, she was go afraid I'd
hear.”
It wasn’t natural for Uncle Nat to be
suspicions, but he hadn’t been natural late-
ly. It was pretty tough, as he often whis-
pered to himself, to tear up an old tree and
expect it to take root a thousand miles
away. The East was well enough if all
anybody cared about was mountains and
rivers. and woods, but what were they to
the broad, level expanses his soul delight-
ed in ? ‘“Where a hody can breathe,”’ he
said, and his heart sickened as he closed
his eyes and saw again the wide sweep of
prairies, the well-tilled fields of corn, the.
happy little homes dotted here and there,
and over all the great blue dome of heaven
which seemed to arch in its immensity as
it never did at the East. But most of all,
oh, most of all, did be hunger and thirst
for little Maggie !
**Ain’t I never goin’ to see that child
again ?’’ he groaned. ‘‘Mebbe it ain’t so
much homesickness as it is her; tain’t
likely a man would be homesick that’s
knocked around like I haveand never been
homesick afore—not since the time when I
was a little kid and went to stay all night
with Tony Bates and they had to take me
home in the night,”” and he smiled feebly
at the reminiscence. ‘‘But I hadn’t ought
to’'ve come—even if Martin did insist.
He’s a good boy, though,’ he thought, his
face softening. ‘‘’Tain’t everybody would
remember what was done for ’em like he
has, though it was done juet as free as if
he was ‘my own, the land koows. Bus
Elviry don’t want me here, I've gos proof
enough of that,” he eaid sadly, and his
brow knitted as he thought of the words
that still stung like scorpions. Of course
she had not meant he should hear—Elviry
was too kind-hearted, but that didn’t help
much. “Too eld to be any good !"’ ‘They
didn’s think eo to Andrew’s; they said they
didn’t see how they conld get along with-
out me—but mebbe they onlysaid so—
Yoke 1 was in i wa here too, only I
n’t know,’” and a helpless, despair
look stole into Uncle Nat's eyes. pairing
ton when s a man ete like I he, there
I m to be no or him, and it’
time the Lord called bim somewhere pg
Day after day the weight on his heats bad
grown heavier. ' ‘Strange, morbid fancies
that ‘he could not throw off oppressed his
waking hours, and at night troubled his
sleep. Little Maggie would hardly have
recognized her heloved playfellow in this
ead-faced old man with the bitter look in | P°R
his eyes.
_ The next afternoon, Uncle Nut was in his
little room under the eaves, He was writ-
ing on heavily-ruled foolscap with an old
geography for a desk. His unaccustomed
fingers traced the words slowly, while oo-
casfoually his faded eyes turned to the
window in deep thoughs. “It's a kind of
fuayhow to bring it in so they won’s
thin it’s on account of anything here—:
I'd: hate to have them think that, shey’ve
been real good to me—bat I ain't agoin’ to
fign my name to a lie. I'l] just say some-
thing ahout that old wound troubling me
—that’s true enongh, far as it goes—only
1 Hud of hate to bave em’ think I ain’
n enoug stand a little pain,” and he
frowned as be took up his hy and wrote
with laborious patience until the page was
covered with stiff black characters, and at
she bottom his name, Nathaniel Taylor.
Then he paused, and in a moment wrote,
‘Give my love to lissle Maggie.” ‘‘She’ll’
think more of it, to be mentioned sep:
rate.” Then he carefully folded is, and
going to the bureau laid it under the pin.
Sabie onl! Sod it when she redde
m, e sai ; 11 9
dr Li sai Elviry’s a good
A little later he was standing in the open
kitchen door, while Elvira, whose watch-
ful eyes had discovered a loose button, was
‘sewing it on in spite of his protests that it
didn’t make a mite of difference. ‘‘You’re
real good to me, Elviry; you've both been
real good to we ever sence I've been here.
1 ain’t ever bad cause to complain.’”” He
looked at her with wistful eyes. ““‘Andl
want you should always remember I said
go.”
“Why, Uncle Nat, what's the matter ?
Don’s you feel so well as common ?’’ Elvira
asked, as with needle held in air she look-
ed anxiously at him. °
“Oh, nothing; I was just thinking I
wanted to lesyou know how I felt; folks
like to be appreciated.’
As she snipped off the thread, Uncle Nat
turned with an ‘I'm obliged to you Elviry,’
and took down his hat from the nail in the
corner. “I believe I'll go out for a spell;
I'd ruther stay and help you, but I don’
suppose you'd let me do anything.”’
“Oh no, Uncle Nat, there ain’t a thing
you can do. I'm real pleased you’re going
out. Mebbeit’ll take up your mind some.
There ain’t anything like outdoors if you're
kind of ran down. Martin says be feels
ten years younger when he’s out hunting
or fishing. You and he must get out some
day when you feel like it.”
“I pelieve I'll go over in them woods a
while now, Elviry, if you think ‘Martin’d
just as soon I'd take his gun,” he said.
“It ain’t very far.”
“Why, of course he’d just as soon, Uncle
Nat,”” Elvira answered, ‘but I don’t sup-
pose you’ll get a thing; there need to be
lots of partridges,but they’re getting scarce
now. You might see a rabbit. I hate to
have the squirrels killed.”
“Yes; Ishan’t kill any squirrels,”’ Uncle
Nat said, as he took the gun from its cor-
ner and carefully examined it.
“Look out you don’t get hurt with it.
It kicks sometimes if it ain’t loaded just
right; but I expect you know how to handle
a gun.”
“Yes; I guess there ain’s much about
firearms that I ain’ used to,’’ he said, with
a spark of the old martial spirit in his fad-
ed eyes. Then he took the ammunition
that Elvira banded him,but still he linger-
“It’s a nice place you’ve got here,’’ he
said as he leaned in the doorway; ‘‘it’'sa
sightly place.”
“Yes; it’s nice enough, but there’s too
much ague to suit me. I hope we shan’
stay here forever, Uncle Nat,”’ but he did
not heed her.
“Tt ain’t like the West, but it’s pretty
—it’s a pretty world,” and his eyes were
taking in the landscape with a long, fixed
aze.
8 Elvira watched him as he went down the
walk. “I’m afraid he feel kind o’ discour-
aged. I’m going to get Mart to take him
with him to town tomorrow. I believe
that new doctor could help him; they say
he’s just wonderful. Now I'll fly around
and get those curtains up while he’s gone.
It’s pretty early, but curtains do make a
room look go much more cheerfnl, and it'll
kind of surprise him.”
When she bad finished her work, she
went up the stairs with a quick, light step.
“I'm glad I cleaned it yesterday,”’ she
thought, as she moved around the neat,
sunny room. “I believe it would look
better if the bed stood over by the closet;
then I could put the burean nearer the
window. I'll get Mart to move ‘em to-
nighs if be gets back early enough. I
guess I’ll bring my bureau cover up. I
don’t suppose he’ll know the difference,
but it’s prettier than this one,”’ she
thought. As she lifted the pincushion, the
folded paper, addressed to her, caught her
eyes. ‘“What in the world!” she mur-
mured, hastily opening it. She did not
need to read it all through. “Oh, if I
should be too late,”” she groaned, as’ she
dashed down the stairs and out through
the little picket gate.
let me be !”’
The tall old trees were casting their heavy
shadows, and when she had gone only a
little way into the woods, it looked so dark
and full of gloom that at any other time
she would bave fled in affright, but now
only the one thought was in her mind as
she sped wildly on, straining her eyes for
the familiar old figure. She dared not call
for fear of bringing about the thing she
dreaded. Once in her headlong flight she
caught her foot in a tangling vine and fell
heavily, but she bardly felt the pain.
‘Deeper and deeper into the woods, and
beavier the gloom. Here and there a
bleaching stump or a vine-hung branch
showed fantastic shapes to herstarsled eyes.
“Uncle Nas, where are you?'’ she moaned.
“Oh, I don’t know which way to go,’’ and
she stopped and wrung her hands in despair.
On an old mossy log, Uncle Nat sat with
bis gun resting against a young oak. “I
must be a bigger coward than I thought I
was, or else I've been out of my mind a
spell,” he was saying. “To. think of
darkening that innercent little child’s life
just hecause imine ain’t of no account.
Thunder, how she’d ’a’ took on when they
told her,”’ and he brushed his sleeve across
bis eyes. *‘‘Well, I guess I'll go back now
and see if I can’t behave a little bis like a
man,’’ be said in self-scorn. *'I hope the
Lord won't lay it up against me,’’ he add-
ed humbly. ; ; j
Elvira saw him as he came slowly from
the thick underbrush.
sion of feeling almost turned ber fains.: She
stepped behind come friendly sumachs to
colleot herself a little. ‘‘I daren’t let him
see me yet; he'd know,’ she thought. She
let him pass before she called ‘‘Uncle
Nat I”?
He gave a violent stars.
“Why, Elviry 1" he said.
where did you come from ?”’
She tried so keep her face turned from
him. She wondered if he wonld nesice her
hands shaking. 1 7
* “Oh, I came after you, Uncle Nat,’’ she
said. ‘‘I was afraid something might hap-
to you.” HEE een X :
He looked at her with humble, loving
eyes, as she went on : ‘I'm so afraid of a
gun, if is ain’t gos lock, stock nor bavrel,as
mother used to say,” and she laughed
hysterically. Then she began to cry.
Oh, Elviry, don’,child,” he said, while
a happy look stole into hiseyes. ‘Do you
think so much of an old man as that ?*’
“Why, Uncle Nat, I love you,’’ she an-
awered as well as she could for crying;
‘“‘yon’re just like a father to me. You've
always seemed so #ince I first knew you.”
“Why, Elviry, I never thought’’—be
said brokenly. : .
*‘No, I don’t suppose you ever did—
because it ain’t my way to talk about such
things. I guess is would be hester il it
was. ”?
They went on a little way in silence, and
then Uncle Nat said ina deprecatory voice.
“And you didn’t really mean I was in the
way 2? .
“In the way ! What do youn mean?"
and she stopped short and looked as him.
You faid 80, Elviry,’’ he answered, with
a mild dogmatism.
‘Why, Uncle Nat, I couldn’s bave said
80, for I couldn’t have thought so no ‘more
**When—
than I could about Mars,” and a faint
“Oh, Lord, don’t.
The sudden revul-
ease is to be
doubt of his sanity crossed ber mind.
“Yes, yon did,”’ he persisted, but with
the hope that somehow she could dieprove
it. ‘‘That day Mis’ Starbuck was heie you
told ber I was too old to be any good. I
wouldn’s swear that I actually heard you
call my name, bus I knew well enongh
who you meant. You and ber was right
under the front room window.”
Elvira stared at him in silence; then a
sudden smile chased the bewilderment from
her eyes. .
“Well, for pity’s sake, Uncle Nat,didn’t
yon know I was talking about Carlo ? And
if you’d listened a little longer,you’d have
beard me tell her we thought a sight more
of him than when we first had him.”
Martin was waiting for them on the
porch when they returned.
“Keep him down here a minute,’’ she
whispered, emphasizing her words with a
significant look. She burried to Uncle
Nat’s room, and picking up the letter from
the floor hastily replaced it under the pin-
cushion, and was downstairs before he
knew she had been gone. As she came
out on the back porch, Martin took a letter
from his pocket and banded it to ber.
“Might as well read it out, Vi,” he said,
“though I don’t s’pose Uncle’ll he particu-
lar interested. It’s only about our going
out West to live neighbor to Sam,”’ be said,
turning to Uncle Nat. ‘‘He and I have
been corresponding quite a spell. We
wanted it kept quiet till things was a little
more definite, but I guessit’s kind of leak-
ed out. The only trouble, Uncle Nat,’ he
continued with a sly wink, ‘‘the only
trouble is, we'd be so close to Maggie, I'm
afraid you'd have to see her every day.”
—By Harriet Winton Davie, in the Country
Gentleman.
I ————————
Really Good Morning.
Every morning is a good morning to one
who is feeling well. There is no such
thing as bad weather. There are no blue
Mondays or gloomy Sundays to anyone
who is living the right srt of life. ;
The good cheer of health, combined with
a pare life, serves to turn every morning
into a good morning and every evening into
| a good evening.
The best way to wish anyone good morn-
ing orgood evening is to seb before them
the example of right living, for it is through
right living that good morning and good
evening come.
It is of no use to say grace over a badly
cooked meal. The grace will not make it
agree with the stomach. There is no use
to say good morning or good evening unless
we do she things that will make good morn-
ing and good evening. It is indeed a good
morning for anyone whe has done an hon-
est day’s labor at some useful employment
and has found eight hours of sound and re-
freshing sleep.
Good morning is the sequel of good he-
havior. The price one pays for a real good
morning is a good day’s work. Good sleep,
early to bed, up early in the morning, then
indeed it is a good morning. :
Every morning is a good morning to such
persons. They have paid the price for it
and are entitled to it.—Medical Talk for
the Hume.
————————
Be Good to Your Horse,
In order to allay suffering among horses
during the summer, the Pennsylvania So-
ciety for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ani-
mais have asked horse owners throughout
the city and State to observe the following
regulations : ,
Don’t forget that your horse will repay
you for his cost if you treat him right.
Don’t stand bim in the san, when hy
moving him across the street or around the
corner you can find shade. i
Don’t put the same load on him when
the thermometer is at 90 that you do when
it is just above the freezing point.
Don’t fail to give him water at short
intervals.
Don’t fail to bathe his head with cold
water.
Don’t give the horse whiskey unless ad-
vised by a veterinary surgeon, and don’t
take any yourself. Nine-tenths of the
abuse of animals are directly traceable to
its nse. ;
Don’t fail, if it shows signe of exhaus-
tion, to give the animal a half hour’s rest.
Don’t fail, in extreme cases, to apply ice
to the head and ice water to the body, so
as to reduce the temperature. :
Don’t swear at him. He is a sentient
being and can feel either the lash, whip or
your tongue.
The Doctor and the Editor
If the editor makes a mistake he has to
apologize for it, but if the doctor makes
one the undertaker kindly buries is for
him. If the editor makes one there isa
law suit, swearing and the smell of rul-
phar, bus if the doctor makes one there is
a funeral. cut flowers and the smell of
varnish. The doctor can use a word a yard
long without knowing what it means, bat
if the editor uses it he bas to spell it. If
a doctor goes to see another man’s wife he
charges for the visit, but if the editor goes
to see another man’s wife he gets a charge
of buckshot. Any old medical college can
make a doctor, but you can’t make an
editor—he has to be born, although it is
‘claimed that some are developed from de-
tail men. When the doctor gets dronk,
it’s a case of ‘‘overcome hy the heat,’’ and
if be dies it’s heart tronble. When an
editor gets drunk, it’s a case of too much
booze and if be dies it's a case of delirinm
tremens. Take your choice, but ourai-
vice 18. he a hod carrier.—Morgantown
(West Va). Post.
Spotted Fever’s Origin.
Professor Wettenboffer, who was sen$ by
the government to Silesia to study the
genesis of cerebro spinal meningitis and
the best method of treating it, has issued
his official report. He comes to the con-
clusion that it is undoubtedly one of the
diseases caused by inhalation, which, first
attacks the toneils, and is conveyed thus
through glands to the brain. It only at-
tacks where the glands have become weak-
ened. Io all the cases examined by bim |
the toneils show hypertrophy, and are in-
creased in size by inflammation. The
fessor is of opinion that the root of
und in the unsanif&r
tion of dwellings, and certai
schools. ro
Will Contest Willia
New York, July
William Ziegler, illionaire baking
powder manuf: r and backer of
Arctic expedi , was insane and in-
renie court to determine the
validity of the will. Mr. Ziegler left an
estate of $34,000,000 to his adopted son,
Willlam Ziegler, who will be 14 years
old next day. At the age of 40 the
OPPRESSIVE HEAT BRINGS SUF-
FERING.
Cities. Hottest Days of the Summer.
New York, July 19.—An area of op-
pressive heat, that brings to mind with
unpleasant vividness the record-
breaking summer of 1901, has settled
down over the eastern and New Eng-
land states, already numbering hun-
dreds among its victims and causing
indescribable suffering to thousands in
this and other cities.
From all points came the story of
the hottest day of the summer, at-
tended with frequent prostrations and
not a few deaths. Philadelphia report-
ed a maximum temperature of 98.3, the
highest figure officially noted. In this
city the weather bureau’s high mark
was 96, while in Boston, where the
sun’s rays are wont to be tempered by
an east wind, a temperature of 94 was
recorded.
The official thermometers located in
exposed places above the street did
not, however, indicate the temperature
in which the ordinary mortal moved,
and many street thermometers indi-
cated a temperature of 100 or higher,
some reliable instruments registering
104 and 105.
Following are the maximum tem-
peratures officially recorded in the
larger cities, with the known cases of
prostration and death:
Maximum Prostra-
Temperature. tions. Deaths.
New York..... 96 190 26
Philadelphia .. 98.3 50 5
Baltimore ..... 97.3 6 3
Washington ... 95 6 oa
Boston ...... «94 4 2
Pittsburg ..... 93 45 13
Buffalo ....... 78 2 1
The above figures by no means rep-
resent the sum of human suffering, as
an endless number of victims who col-
lapsed at home, in the office or work-
shop, were privately attended.
No relief is in sight, and the roll of
fatalities must be necessarily increased
by many who, having thus far with-
stood the ordeal, are so weakened as
to leave them more susceptible to the
heat of today.
In New York the suffering was in-
tense, especially in the crowded tene-
ment districts, where scarcely a breath
of air relieved the stifling atmosphere.
Thousands who could afford the holi-
day flocked to the beaches, but even
in the consequent crowds women and
children fainted and were overcome,
making the trip from home a doubtful
experiment, so far as securing any
comfort was concerned.
“Jake” Cook, keeper of the monkey
house at Central Park, famous as an
elephant trainer and the idol of the
children who frequent the “Zoo,” was
among the victims. The other keepers
had complained of the heat, and Cook,
volunteering to help them with their
duties, over-exerted himself and was
stricken and died.
Prompt measures were taken by the
police and park commissioners to alle-
viate in some degree the suffering of
the public. Orders were issued keep-
ing open throughout the night the park
gates and permitting those who would
to spend the night in these places.
“Keep off the grass” signs were by
permission disregarded, and last night
thousands of men, women and children
deserted crowded and stifling apart-
ments for a bed upon the cool grass.
Thousands of others, too exhausted io
reach the recreation grounds, slept
upon the pavements in front of their
homes.
Thirteen Deaths at Pittsburg.
Pittsburg, July 19.—The highest tem-
perature of the year was reached yes-
terday afternoon, when the government
thermometer on top of the 24-story
Farmers Bank building registered 93.
The addition of five degrees will give
the temperature in the business sec-
tion of the city. Fortunately a breeze
of about 15 miles an hour prevailed
throughout the ‘day, making it possible
for those who were forced to be on the
streets to prosecute their business.
Thirteen deaths from heat, including
six infants, have been reported, and in
the county a conservative estimate puts
the number of prostrations at 45. In
all nearby towns the same conditions
prevailed as in this city, and several
deaths and many prostrations are re-
ported.
FIVE DEAD IN PHILADELPHIA
Temperature In Streets Reached 100
and In Sun 116.
Philadelphia, July 18.—Philadelphia
and vicinity experienced the hottest
weather in four years. Five deaths
and 50 prostrations, due to the con-
tinued high temperature, were report-
ed in the city. The maximum tempera:
ture was recorded at 3.45 p. m., when
the government thermometer on the
roof of the federal building registered
98.3 degrees. In shady places on the
streets the temperature reached 100
degrees, and in the sun 116 degrees
were recorded. At 10 o'clock last night
the thermométer stood at 85 degrees.
It is probable that the number of
deaths and prostrations would have:
| been greater had not. the percentage
of humidity been below normal during
the day.
... High temperature was also recorded
in Eastern Pennsylvania, Delaware and
Southern ' New Jersey. At "Atlantic
City the maximum temperature was 98
degreees, and at 8 p. m. the thermom-
eter registered 80. At Cape May 90
was the maximum, and at 8 p. m. the
temperature there had dropped to 74.
Scranton’s Hottest Day In Four Years.
Scranton, Pa., July 19.—It was 98 in
the shade and 112 in the sun here
yesterday afternoon at 3.80 o'clock.
This is the hottest day in four years.
Lewis P. Davis, of Taylor, died from
sunstroke, and an unknown Polander
boy is to have complete control of the
entire estates.
was prostrated.
oe EE
|
|
Hundreds of Prostrations and Many Deaths in Large | was the hottest day of the summer,
|
1
100 In Shade at Lancaster.
Lancaster, Pa., July 19.—Yesterday
with shaded thermometers registering
100 degrees at 4 o'clock in the after-
noon. A slight breeze brought some
relief.
96 at Harrisburg.
Harrisburg, Pa., July 19.—The high-
est temperature recorded at the local
weather bureau yesterday was 96 de-
grees. This is the hottest day since
1901, when 100 degrees were regis-
tered officially.
Five Prostrations In Baltimore.
Baltimore, July 19.—There were five
prostrations from heat, one being seri-
ous. The maximum temperature was
97.3 at 2 p. m.; the minimum 78, at
5 a. m. Humidity 51 at 10 a. m.; 59
at 8 p. m.
Cumberland, Md., high up in the
Allegheny mountains, reports a tem-
perature of 101 degrees in the shade.
PLAN TO DEPOSE CZAR
Reformers Want Regency of Czare-
vitch Under Grand Dukes.
St. Petersburg, July 19.—A sensa-
tional rumor is current here that a
large party of the Zemstvoists and
Doumaists at Moscow are in favor of
the proclacation of the deposition of
Emperor Nicholas and the establish-
ment of a regency for the Grand Duke
Alexis-Nigolaievitch the infant son of
the emperor, and heir to the throne,
under four grand dukes.
It is alleged that for this reason
the meeting of the all-Russian Zemst-
voist and Doumaist Congress, which
was to take place at Moscow today, has
been prohibited.
M. Witte Sees the Czar,
St. Petersburg, July 19.—M. Witte
had a final interview with Emperor
Nicholas at Peterhof. Foreign Minis-
ter Count Lamsdorff was present, show-
ing the complete harmony of views
between M. Witte and the foreign min-
ister.
M. Witte left St. Petersburg for Paris
today, accompanied by Mme. Witte.
At Paris they meet their daughter, who
is the wife of the secretary of the
Russian legation at Brussels. Mme.
Witte has no intention of joining her
husband later in America.
Will Envelope Vladivostok.
London, July 19.—The Tokio corres-
pondent of the Daily Telegraph says
that a Japanese army has been landed
north of Vladivostok and that a com-
plete envelopment of the fortress is
imminent.
PEARY OFF FOR NORTH POLE
The Roosevelt Saluted By All Manner
of Craft As She Left New York.
New York, July 17.—The Roosevelt,
in which Captain Robert E. Peary
hopes to reach the North Pole, has
started on her long voyage. Captain
Peary and a party of guests were on
board at the start and remained with
the ship on her trip down the bay, but
they left her at the Narrows, returning
to the city on a navy tug. Captain
Peary started by rail for Sydney, Cape
Breton, where he will join the ship.
A launch bearing a party of excur-
sionists attempted to run close along-
side of the Roosevelt after she was
under way, and nearly collided with
her. The Roosevelt was saluted by all
manner of steam and sailing craft on
her way to the sea.
MOTHER'S AWFUL MISTAKE
Shot and Killled Her Son In Mistake
For Burglar.
Littletown, W. Va., July 17.—Tilden
Bass, the 12-year-old son of Town Mar-
shal “Pete” Bass, was shot and in-
stantly killed by his mother, who mis-
took him fora burglar. The boy arose
in his sleep and wandered about the
house. His mother heard him and
quietly secured a revolver. Soon after-
ward she saw a form on the roof of 2
porch, moving stealthily through her
bedroom window, and she fired. It was
some time before she summoned suffi-
cient courage to go down stairs, where
she found the lifeless body of her son.
It is feared that the shock may prove:
fatal to her.
ELIHU ROOT SWORN IN
Took the Oath As Secretary of State
In Washington.
Washington, July 19.—Elihu Root
arrived here from New York and took
the oath as secretary of state, He was
somewhat fatigued as the result of his
journey and the intense heat. He
sald that his coming at this time was
to formally take up the reins of office
as secretary of state. He will remain
in the city, however, but the one day.
Two Killed In Collision,
Roanoke, Va., July 17.—Two men
were killed and four more injured in
a head-on collision between two freight
trains one mile north of Midvale, Va.,
on the Shenandoah division of the
Norfolk & Western railway. The dead
are E. 8. Hite, of Vesuvius, Va, a
brakeman, and John Dent, of Roanoke,
Va., fireman. The north-bound freight
train had orders to wait at Midvale
for ‘a south-bound extra freight, but
the orders, it is alleged, were disre-
garded by the north-bound crew.
General Wood Leaves Hospital.
Boston July 19.—General Leonard
“Wood, who recently underwent an op-
eration at a private hospital in this
city, left the institution. Accompanied
by Mrs. Wcod, a trained nurse and a
physician, he has gone to the coun-
try for a few days. He expects to sail
‘early next month for Manila.
Connolation.
A good deal of the consolation offer
ed in the world Is about as solacing as
the assurance of the Irishman to his
wife when she fell into the river—‘You
will find ground at the bottom, my
dear.”
THE RESOURCEFUL MOLE.
He Gets Away With Ease When You
Think You Have Him.
“Speaking of quick and resourceful
animals, the mole leads easily so far as
my experience goes,” said a man from
the country, “and I dare say there are
many men who have made observa-
tions that will confirm my contention.
As you probably know, the mole plows
in the surface of the earth, generally
making a small ridge anywhere from
two to three inches high. He moves
with remarkable rapidity even when
the ground in which he is burrowing is
hard. When operating in soft ground
he moves along at a surprising gait.
But this is not the point I wanted to
make. I was thinking of the remarka-
bly good hearing of the mole and the
ease with which he can get away just
at the moment when you think you
have him cornered. Of course now and
then you can drive a spike through the
mole before he is aware of it. If you
do you will have to walk as light as a
cat and will have to act as quickly as
the same animal when the time comes
to act. In nine cases out of ten the
mole will hear the first footfall. At
once he will quit plowing. He is gone.
Search as you may, you cannot find
him. I have seen men dig for fifty
yards, following the ridge and its off-
shoots, without finding any other trace
of the mole than the ridge. The moles
hearing is peculiarly keen, and I sup-
pose this is so because he cannot see.
But even more wonderful from my
standpoint is the ease and quickness
with which he gets away. How does he
manage it? Where does he go? You
know, the element of superstition in
my makeup is slim, and I don’t believe
in ghosts, but somehow I have always
inclined just a bit to the ghost theory
when thinking of the mysterious antics
of these blind burrowers. The mole is
more like a ghost in his conduct than
anything I have ever known, though,
of course, the mole is a real and not an
imaginary and mythical thing.”—New
Orleans Times-Democrat.
EARLY DIAMOND BUYING.
South Africa’s First Finds Were Paid
For In Cows.
South Africa’s first diamonds were
paid for in cows. The story is told by
Joseph B. Robinson, one of the wealthy
pioneers of that country. In 1879 he
gave eight oxen and a wagon loaded
with sugar and tobacco to a native in
exchange for a twenty-three carat
gem. “The news spread like wildfire
through the countryside that a white
man was giving away wagons and
oxen for bits of stone,” he says. “I
set all the natives who came to work
to seek for diamonds on one side of the
Vaal river, and I brought up my own
fifty men to hunt for diamonds among
the bushes and scrub on the other side
of the stream. I had bought the land
on both sides of the river, so that I
was working on my own property.
Next morning at sunrise, when I was
having my coffee, 1 was startled by
a loud hullabalooing, and, looking
out, I saw the whole gang of my men
rushing toward me in a state of wild
excitement.
“One of them had found a diamond
of good size. They all had come to
see what I would do with it. ‘What
will you give me for it?” said the
finder. ‘I will give you ten cows,” I
replied and sent the man into the herd
to take his pick. He marked ten of
the best cows as his own. The men
had never dreamed of making such a
bargain. Ten cows for a bit of stone!
Off they went again and found dia-
monds every day. They became rich,
and I accumulated a good store of
precious stones.
“After we had accumulated a large
send them to London. We made a belt
full of small pockets, in each of which
was filled my partner girded it about
his body and started for Cape Town.
He never took off the belt until he
reached London. And it was in this
diamonds reached London.”
THE ALLIGATOR’S JAWS.
They Will Open if You Stick Your
Fingers In His Eyes.
“If ever you have the luck to be
er. “That will have the effect of mak-
ing him open his jaws, and then you
can make the most of your opportunity.
There are’ several known instances of
the escape: of natives by that means.
Alligators prefer their food high, so the
chances are if you are caught you will
be deposited on the bottom somewhere.
I heard of one native escaping even
then. When crossing the rivers the!
natives carry stout sticks, so if en-
countered by an alligator they cam.
ward him off by shoving a stick down
his throat. ;
“That ' alligators have enormous
strength I have evidence besides my
own experience. At Port Essington a
buffalo was drinking in a stream when
an alligator nailed it by, the head and
drowned it. Soon afterward a horse
was caught while drinking at the same
spot. It dragged the alligator about
forty yards before the brute let go.
Mr. Robinson anchored the body of
a horse a little distance out from a
cliff close to his camp. In due time he
had his chance and shot a fifteen foot
alligator.”
Absolutely Necessary.
Nan—I don’t see why Miss Mugley
should want to marry him with all her
money. - Dick—I guess she had to. I
don’t believe he’d bave taken her with
out it.—Philadelphia Press.
The Best Way.
Barber—8hall I take a little of the
ends of your hair off, sir? Customer—
Yes, I think you had better take it off
at the ends unless you can get it out
. the middle.—~New Yorker. :
quantity we decided we would better
we placed a diamond. When the belt .
way the first consignment of African
caught by an alligator put a finger in
| each eye,” says an old Australian hunt-
/