Boon Bellefonte, P2., Dec. 1, 1905. com THE “LOOK OUT MAN.” Now listen, little children, an’ I'll tell a story true, An’ better you remember, ’cause it means a lot to'you. An’ if you heed th’ lesson then when Chris’'mas time is here You'll get a lot of pleasure,an’ a lot 0’ Chris’mas cheer. “The Look-Out man is walkin’ begin to peep To see if little children are in bed and fast asleep, And all who act up naughty and don’t mind their ma’s and pa’s The Look-Out man is watchin’ and he’ll tell old Santa Clans. when the stars “The Look-Out man is peepin’ through the winders every night, And countin’ up the children who are always actin’ right An’ goin’ oft to bed at onct when told ’tis time to go An’ never poutin’, not a bit, or takin’ clothes oft slow. “He puts’ em in his good book, but the bad ones in the bad, And when he writes a bad one he jus’ looks, Oh, awful sad, *Cause he knows they won’t get nothin.’ ter mind your ma’s and pa’s ; The Look-Out man is watchin’ and he’ll tell old Santa Claus.” Bet- —By Will M. Manpin. GRANDMA'S THANKSGIVING DAY. ‘‘/Can’t you smell it, father?” HER??? “‘Can’t you smell ib—smell it, father?” piped the slender old voice a little louder. Aud mother hitched her rocker closer to the old man in the easy-chair. ‘‘I've set the door ajar a-purpose. I thought mebbe you’d like to smell it.” ‘ ‘Smell? Yes,I keep a-smellin’ something. I have right along. But I dunno—what is it I smell, mother?”’ ‘It’s Thanksgiving, father.” Andrew Penny’s mild old face evinced astonishment. He had not thought it was getting so close upon the heels of Thanks- giving. Here at little Andy’s it was cur- ious—ourious, father called it—the way the time went past. Much as ever you could tell winter from summer here. At home, now——The old man sighed. It was not an echo of mother’s sigh, for he could not hear thas. It was what ‘‘went with’’ that part of his reverie. ‘‘At home,”’ and the sigh—they always went together. At home, now, it was easy enough tell ing time! There was the old yellow alma- nac hanging on the kitchen wall, if you ever needed it—but you never did. In summer the haying, in autumn the plow- ing and harvesting, in winter—ah, in win- ter! Old Andrew Penny straightened his bent shoulders and drew up his head as if to breast the splendid, keen-edged wind and the sifting of snow in his face. Then the sigh again. **Judith! Judith! I duono how I'm goin’ to get through another winter without pullin’ on the old yarn mitten and shov- lin’ a path to the barn!’’ he cried out wist- fully. ‘‘I dunno how I'm goin’ to! Think of it, will ye? Old Dandy a-whinneyin’ to me ab the other end o’ the drifts an’ me a-workin’ toward him, nigher and nigher! And then the home trip, with you waitin’ in the doorway, Judy. And the hot brew in front of the kitchen stove—I dunno, I dunno how.I'm goin’ to stan’ it!” Judith Penny’s sweet, lined face,contors- ed with pain—her pain and father’s. Did she remember it all? Conld she see the dauntless old figure breasting its way through the snow, getting ‘‘nigher and nigher?”’ Old Dandy and the patient cows? Could she see it coming back again, down between the walls of white, getting nigher and nigher her? Could she smell the hot whiffs of ginger tea with the old accompan- iment of scorching woolen socks?father was a case to scorch his socks when he warmed his feet! At home—no$ here at Andy’s; you can’t scorch your stockings at a steam radiator. Through the door that was left ajar crept the warm, faint smell of Thanksgiving. She could sort them out ard set them apart in order—that was the pudding smell; that other, with the spice of old times strongest in it— ‘‘That’s the mincemeas,’”’ mother said, suddenly, aloud. *‘They’re making the mince pies! Father; father, don’t yon smell the mincemeat? There—that? Don’t it re- mind you? Andy’s wife got my rule copied into her cookbook. I'd give a good deal to know—but I’m certain she is. It smells so. She’s making it by my rule, father!’ Downstairs, where the smells were spici- est and strongest, Andy’s wife and Dolly were talking things over as they stoned the raisins, : “I’ve got to, Dolly. I couldn’ have them at the table that day,” the matronly little person was sayiug, plaintively; ‘‘not with the Malboros here. Meroy, think of grandpa’s eating with his knife!” ‘‘And tucking his papkin ander his chin,” langhed Dolly. She was young and made comedies of her mother’s little trage- dies. Still, grandpa and grandma didn’t seem to—to assimilate with the Malboros. Dolly had a sudden vision of stately, dia- mond-stadded Mrs. Malboro sitting beside the old-fashioned little grandmother up- stairs. : ‘“No—-o, and still it seems kind of mean- ish to shut them op in their room on Thanksgiving Day, mumsie—"’ ‘* ‘Shat them up’—you are very crade, Dorothy. I shall send them up a beautiful dinner exactly like ours down here. You know very well how they shrink from see- ing strangers. It will be a real relief to them, I’ve no doubt.” : ‘“Ye—es, and still—?? *“The raisins are stoned. I think your gervioes are not needed any more, my dear,’ Andy’s wife said, with dignity. This clear- eyed daughter of hers that was growing up so astonishingly fast sometimes embarrass- ed her curiously. The idea of her putting in her little oar for the old people! Non- sense! as if a dinner to the Malboros and a dinner to grandpa and grandma must not on sheer necessity be a house-length apart! It did not ocour to little Andy’s wife that one might be postponed to make room for the other—just for Thaksgiving’s sake. She had made up her mind to have Fulton Mhalboro and his wife and two stately daughters to dinner on that day. It was a good time to pay off one’s social debts. I shall send them the invitation today.I ought to havesent it before, ’she soliloguiz- ed, with a decisive nod of her pretty head. Bat the invitation was never sent. Fate was weaving other threads—sombre ones— into her plans. Half an hour later a mes- Senger boy came with a dispatch for Andy’s e. “‘Dolly, Dolly, come down here quick!’ she called at the stairs, in shrill in “I've got a telegram from your Uncle Dick, and I’ve got to go right off. Ruth is very sick—do yon think I’d stop a minute when my one, only sister needs me?’ “0, mumsie—O, I'm so sorry!”’ Dolly came hurrying down the staiis. ‘Of course, you’ll go! I'll pack your things myself. And you can call for papa on the way and take him with you. He won’6 let you go alone. I can see to everything—O, I forgot Thanksgiving!’’ “Never mind Thanksgiving. Fortunate- ly, I haven’t invited the company yet. That's a mercy. You can just do exactly ag you like about having a Thanksgivisg din- ner. I don’t know whether youn’ll be lone- lier if you do or if you don’t. Anne could cook the turkey, on a pinch.”’ The excited voice ran on steadily, while Andy's wife and Andy’s daughter got together the ne- cessary things for the journey. “I guess you’d better have one, dear, on the whole. Ask some of the girls in to eat it with you. There’s Nettie Potter and the Knapps and Bliss Bishop. Tell Anne to baste—baste—baste the turkey.”’ There was only time for a harried word of good-bye at the old people’s door, and then, out of the confusion and haste, came a grea$ calm. Dolly thought the house had never been so quiet in all the span of her sixteen years. She wandered about for- lornly. At nine o’clock she was glad enough to go to bed. “Yes,’” she mused,lying in the dark and talking child-fashion to herself, ‘‘yes, I'll ask the girls. Mother forgot Love Mackay but I shan’t. I wouldn’t leave Love out. That makes—Ilet’s see—six of us. They’ll all come, I know. Six girls—I guess grand- ma and grandpa’d rather eat in their own room!’’ s Dolly laughed softly at the thought of the frolic six girls could make of a Thanks- giving dinner all to themselves. What would two old people think of it? They’ rather have a quiet little dinner to fhem- selves, of course. “And I'd rather they would,”’ admitted honest Dolly. ‘‘They were going to, any- way, if mumsie badn’t gone, so I’m not making any change.’”’ Still—still—Dolly nestled uneasily on the pillows. On Thanksgiving Day was it kind of meanish—was it? Somebody came and set the door into Dolly’s room a little way open. It was grandmother, probzhly. She often did when her room w=3 too warm. Grandma was afraid to open the hall door nights, on account of robbers! ‘“‘The dear child is sound asleep,’’ Dolly heard the gentle old voice murmur, and she knew grandma was standing, listening. “I’d love to creep in and kiss her once, but I guess it wouldn't do. I always did little Judy. Father,’’ grandma raised her voice, ‘‘father, ain’t you noticed how much the dear child’s getting to look like little Judy lately? I hope you’ll say you have. It’s a comfort to me.’’ The voice was very wistful, as if grand- ma was in need of comfort, “Father, you come over here to the door a minute. Stand right here close to me— there, don’t it remind you? Don’t you re- member how we used to stand listening for little Judy’s breathing, after she’d gone to bed! Then first you'd steal in and kiss her, and then me—you always took your boots off. Don’t you remember, fathei1?'’ ‘Yes, yes, I remember, mother.”’ “Well, I’ve had little Judy in my mind all day. I guessit was smelling the Thanksgiving, so. Judy always helped make the mincemeat. She was a great hand to chop the suet and apples.” The soft old voice drifted away from the door and ggew indistines, till Dolly sat op in bed. Then she could hear it again: “Little Judy was dretfual bandy, father. She was always helping me same as little Andy was you. They were dear children. If little Judy’d lived”’—bhnt grandma's voice did not go on. It was grandpa’s now. ‘Mother, your speakin’ of Thanksgiving’s brought up them old times, so I dunno’s I shall get to sleep to-night. I keep think- in’ of them two little highchairs op to the table an’ little Andy a-poundin’ with his knife an’ fork. ‘‘I want a drumstick—I want a drumssick, father!’ little Andy’d always pipe up.’’ “Little Judy liked the white meat best, father. And don’t you remember how we always gave her the wishbone? She was the youngest, and the girl. I guess we spoiled little Jady.”’ ‘‘Well, the Lord took hack all our other little girls—I dunno’s it was any wonder we did, motber. She was the right kind to spoil. It didn’t hurt little Judy any. Sometimes I wonder—but I dunno’s if would ’a’ made any difference—’’ “What would have made any difference, father?’’ “Little Judy’s bein’ alive. With— things—I duonno’s it would. She’d likely have been married an’ took us to live with her, same as little Andy did. She wouldn’t have thought it was best for us to stop on at home,either. I guess the trouble was our growin’ old, mother.’’ ‘‘Yes, father, I guess 80.” ‘‘But I’m terribly lonesome for the old place.” ‘Yes, father.’ Both voices broke pitifully, like grieved little children’s voices. Dolly hid her face suddenly and sobbed into the pillow. Poor grandpa and grandma! She had never known before. ‘It seems worse ’long about Thanks- givin’ time.”’ “Yes, O, yes, father!” ‘We nsed to make so much o’ that, ’way back when the children was little. My, the turkeys we fattened an’ the pantry shelves fall o’ puddin’s an’ pies! You rec- ollect the Thanksgivin’ dinner when all the children was there, don’t you, mothe1?”’ Did mother remember? Did she see the row of little heads on her right hand and the row on her left? That was the Thanks- giving before the little girl twins died. They had never been all together again. ‘‘Father!" and the gentle voice rose to a sharp cry, ‘‘it’s terrible to grow old, fath- er! They won’t ever be old—the babies and little Judy.” ‘No, they’ll always be young in the land o’ promise,’”’ Andrew Penny said sol- emily. ‘‘It’s me an’ yon that’s old, moth- er. We’ve had our day.”’ “But I'd like to have another!”’ little Judith Penny cried out sharply ‘‘—just one, father! And if I conld have my choice I'd like to have Thanksgiving Day. I'd like to roast a turkey and make the stuffing and the pudding sauce. The children are all gone, but I'd like to do it for you, Andy.” Not “father,” but ‘‘Andy,”’ this time, as if she had gone back to that old time be- fore the children had ever come, when she and this bent old man were lovers. Then Andy had been straight and brown and young. Dolly, sitting up in her little white bed, threw ont her handsin a gesture of love and pity, but she could not know that grandma had gathered the tremulous white bead into her bosom and was rocking ib gently to and fro, like a little child on her breast. But the girl’s heart was full of sudden longing and resolve. She made a beauti- ful little plan, there alone in the dark, and then fell asleep to dream that it was too late—that little Judy bad sent for father and mother to come to the land o’ promise. Ab, but it is sweet to wake out of a sor- rowful dream like that! Dolly sprang ons ‘of bed in the full glow of sunshine, with the warmth and the glow in her hears, too. “It isn’t true! I'm alive, and they're alive—I can hear grandfather snore!”’ she langhed, in her relief. ‘It’s a beautiful sound! O, bus I’m glad it’s today—grand- ma’s Thadksgiving Day!” A little later she tapped at the old peo- ple’s door. “Merry Thanksgiving! I wish you a merry Thanksgiving!’’ she called, gayly, “and, grandma, are you up? For there’s such a lot to do—may I come in? Goody, you're up! You’ll voass the turkey, won’s you, grandma? And you'll make the sauce for the pudding, and the stuffing, and—O, Idon’t know what you won’t have to make! Annpe’sno good on Thanksgiving Day. Do you know what? Let's give Anne a ‘day out’ and have things all to ourselves! 0, let's! You shall season things and roast and bake things, and grandpa and I'll peel em and carve ’em—and eat ‘em!’ Anne bad her day out, and grandma had her Thanksgiving Day. At last the feast was ready, and the radiant three of them sat down to it. And when grandpa carved he called Dolly “‘litsle Judy’’ and gave her the white meat and the wishbone! She was little Judy to them both all the way throogh the feast. It was at dessert that Andy and Andy’s wife came home. The sickness. thas had called them away bad proved a short cone, and bad yielded readily to treatment. So Andy’s little wife was in fine spirits when she stole softly up to the dining room door to surprise Dorothy and her girl guests. Andy went, too, and they stopped and gaz- ed at each other in bewilderment, on the threshold. What was this? Father was laughing, and mother’s voice bubbled out in a soft, sweet echo. One was at the head of the table and the other at the foot, and somewhere in between Mis- tress Dorothy eat with a radiant face. ‘‘Pass your plate, little Judy—pass it over here for another belping,’”’ mother cried, over the pudding dish. “Andy, Andy, what does it mean?’ whispered the little wife, huskily. “It means we’ve been making a mistake all this time, and the child has found it out,’’ little Andy answered her. They stocd there watching, unseen. Their bands stole together by and by, and in the pressure of their fingers there was born for father and mother a land o’ prom- ise on earth.— By Annie Hamilton Donnell in The Christian Advocate. Facts About Coffee. In cultivation the coffee tree attains a height of between six and ten fees. The leaves are evergreen, very shiny, oblong aud leathery; the flowers are small and clustered in the axils of the leaves; they are snow-white and of a delicious fragrance. The fruit when ripe are a dark red, almost purple, color and the seeds are semi-ellip- tic and of a horny hardness. They are commonly termed beans. Coffee requires a fertile soil. In Brazil, hillsides exposed to thesun are usually chosen as coffee fields. The coffee plant usnally begins to bear when it is three years old. When six years old it produces a full crop, and generally continues to do so for ten years, and sometimes even long- er. The flowering or blooming of the oof- fee tree varies according to the latitude in which it grows, and also according to local and meteorological circumstances. Ordi- parily in the province of Rio de Janerio the first flowering takes place in the months of August and September, and the second in those of November and December. Sometimes there is a third flowering in January and February. Coffee begins to ripen in April, and the process of gather- ing the crop on a plantation usoally em- braces about four months. While the different grades of coffee pro- duced throughout the world shows consid- erable variation in quality and appearance, all are the product of the same species of trees, the difference being due to the vari- ations of climate and manner of caltivat- ing and preparing for market. The flat bean and peaberry coffee of Brazil grow up- on the ends of the branches and the former near the trunk. The flat beans of Brazil, which resemble the Java bean, are often sold as Java coffee; similarly, the round bean, or peaberry of the same country, is commonly sold as Mocha coffee. Rio coffee is grown in the territory of Brazil whose market is the city of Rio de Janerio, one of the principal coffee produc- ing distriots of the world. It varies con- siderably in size and color, is very strong in flavor, in fact,the strongest coffee grown. Most of the Rio coffee received hereis a small sized bean, varying in color from a dark green to a golden yellow. Java coffee varies considerably in quali- ty. The hean is large and of a yellow or brownish yellow color, the latter tint be- ing peculiar to the Java product. The bet- ter qualities, which include private planta- tion and fancy marks, make a rich, strong infusion, and are very highly esteemed by consumers. Mocha coffee is a variety of which much is heard, hut’ which is very seldom seen. It is a very small bean, roundish and ir- regular in shape and grayish in color. The Mocha bean is a product of Arabia, but the imports of Arabian Mocha into this country are ridiculously small compared to the con- sumption of so-dalled Mocha. Small bean- ed coffees of a higher grade and produced in different countries are indiscreetly sold as genuine Mocha in the United States. Much of the so-called Mocha and Java consumed in this country consists merely of selected Brazilian beans. I$ may con- sole consumers to know that the Brazilian coffee planters claim that the finer grades produced by them are equal to the best that are grown in any other country, and the claim seems to be substantiated by the fact that they are so frequently substituted for Mocha and Java coffees. Kansas and Crime. Of one hundred and five counties in Kan- sas forty-four are without a pauper,twenty- five bave no poorhouses, thirty-seven have not a single occupant in jail, and thirty- seven have not a criminal sase on the docket. The prohibition of the sale of li- quor as a beverage, if enforced, would trans- form the whole face of society and solve many troublesome problems. Why the people will not enact and demand the en- forcement of such laws is a much deeper question than many seem to think. Every- one knows that if, for instance, a new drug were introduced into the city of New York, producing effects similar to those that alco- |: hol produces upon those who use it, all classes except the victims would rise up, and the traffic would be extirpated before it could intrench itself in the various ele- ments which now maintain the ascendency of rum. Kansas should infliot the heaviesy punishment upon violators of its prohibi- tory law, and ostracize politically those who try to destroy it.— Christian Advocate. The Empress Dowager of China. Her maje~ty’s love of flowers was one of her characteristics which seemed most in- compatible with the idea I bad formed of her from what I had heard, and her love of flowers and all nature caused me fi1st to change that idea. It seemed to me no one could love flowers and nature as she did and be the woman she had heen paint- She bad flowers always about her. Her private apartments, her throne rooms, her loge at the theater, even the great audience hall, where she went only to tiansact af- fairs of state and hold official audiences— all were decorated with a profusion of flow- ers, cut and growing, but never, though, of more thao one kind at a time. She wears natural flowers in her coiffure always, winter and summer; and however careworn or harrassed she might be, she seemed to find solace in flowers. She would hold a flower to ber face, drink in its fra- grance, and caress it as if it were a sen- tient thing. She would go herself among the flowers that filled her rooms,and place, with lingering touch, some fair bloom in a better light, or turn a jaidinere so that the growing plant might have a more favorable position. é The Chinese do not place certain cut flowers in water, but keep them dry in bowls or vases to get their full fragrance. The empress dowager had some quaint con- ceits about the arrangement of these. She would bave the corollas of the lily-bloom or the fragrant jasmine placed in shallow bowls in carious, starlike design, beauti- ful to look at, as well as moss fragrant. Her passion for flowers being generally kuoown among the courtiers, princes, and high officials, they send daily offerings to the palace of all thas is rare and choice in the way of plants and flowers; for they know this one present her majesty will always accept and appreciate. There are some quaint customs in the place as to flowers and fruits that grow within the precincts. Though the prin- cesses and ladies have the freedom of the gardens and may pull as many flowers and cull as many fruits as they wish, it is not etiquette for them to gather the smalless flower or to touch a finit when in the pres- ence of the empress dowager, unless they arespecially told to do so. When her ma- jesty tells them to pull aflower or fruit, the permission is gratefully accepted and that special flower or fruit religiously Kkeps. The first fruits of every tree and vegetable, the first flowers of every plant and grow- ing shrub in the palace grounds, are con- sidered sacred to their majesties, and no princess, attendant, or ennuce would touch a flower or fruit until the empress dowager bad been presented with the first of them. All these apparently trivial marks of re- spect to the sacred persons of their majes- ties were religiously observed. —[From Katharine Carl’s ‘‘With the Empress Dowager,” in the November Century. Something About Spanish Olives. The olive induséry in Spain is increasing in importance within late years, mainly owing to the efforts which have been made to use improved processes, so as {0 compete successfully with the Italian industry. One of the leading branches of olive trade is the preparation of green olives. This is carried out on a large scale at Barcelona. There is a large internal consumption of the olives and besides, the annual exports now reach 7,000 tons. The olives are put up in bottles or kegs. To carry out the pickling process, the olives are well sorted, as only those which show no faults can be kept. They are then placed for several days in cold water, which is renewed fre- quently. Then they are placed in a brine bath, which consists of a salt and soda solution, and are covered with the liquid. In some cases different aromatic substances are added to the bath so as to give a special flavor to the olives. Ripe or nearly ripe olives are but little in demand and are not consumed to a large extent. As to the extraction of olive oil this has been carried out heretofore by a primitive process. Each small cultivator extracted bis own oil by a press which he hired, generally making payments in oil or farm products. The olives were ground up in a horse-mill be- fore pressing. The ground olives were then putin a lever press, using boiling water for the extraction. The presses are heavy built, but the process is a slow one and the olives need to be stored on hand for some time. They are thus likely to ferment and give an inferior quality of oil. It is estimated that there are some 3,000 or 4,- 000 of such primitive oil-presses in use in Spain at the present time. The pomace which remained was formerly used for fodder or a combustible, but now it is gen- erally sold and more oil is taken from it by an improved process. Some of the large producers saw the necessity of work- ing on a greater scale and commenced to introduce large oylinder presses and grind- ing mills, which gave an increase in the quantity as well as the quality of the oil. The use of these machines is now becom- ing general in the large factories. As to the remainder of the olive oil process, the oil is placed after extraction in large earth- enware jars or tin tanks and is then filter- ed. In some cases the air is kept from the oil by means of a layer of alcohol which]is placed on the surface. The inferior grades of oil are used in soap manufacture.— Scien- tific American. Missing on Wedding Eve. With 500 wedding invitations in the homes of the best people in Prince George county, Md., numerous gifts in the pros- pective bride’s home and everytk ‘ng ready for a fashionable marriage on Saturday, Miss Mary K. Coffin, daughter of former Congressman Charles E. Coffin, of the Fifth district, of Maryland, is prostrated with grief over the disappearance, three days before the date set for the ceremony, of her prospective husband, Lawrence D. Caccard, of Muirkirk, Md. Both families are widely known through- out the State. Young Caccard, 34 years of age, left his home Wednesday morning for Baltimore, where he is engaged in business, intending to return by noon to attend the rehearsal at Beltville church. He did not return, however, and nothing has been heard of him since his arrival there. The prospective father-in-law and his daughter and son believe Caccard has been sand-bag- ged or taken ill and rendered unable to give his name; ~ Social Economies. ‘‘My dear girl, do you think itis right to let that young man spend so much money on you?’’ ‘Why not? I have no intention of marry- ing him.’”* Japan's Only Lake. Lake Biwa is the only large sheet of fresh water in Japan worthy of mention. It is thirty-six miles long, twelve miles wide, and its greatest depth about 300 feet. When this Earth is Crowded. ~The last week having brought some fresh contributions to the recurrent lamentation by public men in the decline of the birth rate in the United Kingdom, a writer in the London Standard discusses the ques- tion from the opposite viewpoint, basing his remarks on the latest statistics of births and deaths. Assuming that these are cor- rect and that the present emigration will increase pro rata he shows that the popula- tion 70 years hence will be double, making the number of inbabitants 83,000,000, which it will be impossible for the British isles to support unless there are some changes in the conditions of life. But allowing for the possibility of the country being able to support this number and estimating that the population will be doubled every 70 years, the writer pictures a time no farther forward than the Norman conquest is backward, say the year 2901, when there will be 6,924,000 people to the square mile in England, which would give each individual about half a square yard of space. To house and accommodate these suitably every inch of dry ground iu the country would bave to be covered with 16.story skyscrapers, leaving no space for streets, parks, shops, theaters or anything but dwellings. Assuming that the emigration to the un- occupied lands of the world will vastly in- crease, the wriver supposes that the emi- grants will produce progeny at an equal rate, while other nations of the world are also increasing in population. Quoting the calculation of an eminent statistician, the late Sir Robert Giffen, that peoples of European origin increased from 170,000,000 at the beginning of the nineteenth century to 510,000,000 at its end, and reckoning that the world’s population doubles every 75 years, he demonstrates the impossibility of maintaining the present rate of multipli- cation, and contends that the sooner the birth rate declines to one-third of what it is at present the better for our descendants. Indeed, he says, the time is not far distant when the rate must not exceed one birth to every 200 marriages or all the people must die before they reach 20 years or muss destroy one another. . Benjamin Broadbent, who has been re- elected mayor of Huddersfield, claims suc- cess for a scheme which he initiated in November, 1904, when he promised £1 to the parents of every baby born during his year in office which lived 12 months. The number so reared was 110, and there has been only one death in the last eight months. The infantile mortality in the district in which the scheme was applied was 54 per 1,000, as against 150 per 1,000 for the whole country and 122 for the dis- trict before the introduction of Mr. Broad- bent’s plan. Mr. Broadbent says he has received inquiries from the Princess of Wales, President Roosevelt and scientists as to the outvome of his echeme. Age of the Presidents When Inaugu- rated. The forty-seventh birthday of Theodore Roosevelt, celebrated Oct. 27th (he being forty-three at the time of his inauguration), directs attention to the ages of the Presi- dents when inaugurated. We here state their ages beginning with the oldest : William Henry Harrison, 68; James Buchanan, 66; Zachary Taylor, 65; John Adams and Andrew Jackson, each 62. James Monroe, 59; Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and John Quincy Adams, each 58; George Washington and Andrew Johnson; each 57; Benjamin Harrison, 56; Martin Van Baren, 55; Ratherford B. Hayes, 54; William McKinley, 53; Abra- ham Lincoln, 52; John Tyler and Chester A. Arthur, each 51; James K. Polk and Millard Fillmore, each 50. Franklin Pierce and James A. Garfield, each 49; Grover Cleveland, the first time, 48, and the second time, 56; Ulysses S. Grant, 47; Theodore Roosevelt, 43.—Chris- tian Advocate. Three Hundred Thousand Tons of To- baceo. In the United States last year 7,689,337,- 207 cigars were made. This is an increase of 185,000,000 over the output of the pre- ceding year. Only half as many cigarettes were made, but the percentage of inorease was nearly twice as great. It is scarcely believable that the American manufacture of snuff for twelve months aggregates over 21,000,000 pounds. These tobacco pro- ducts are valued by some persons at over three hundred million dollars. In com- parison with the nnmber of ‘‘real Havana’ cigars which we see offered for sale we note that the total importation of tobacco into the United States last year was in value not more than one fourteenth of the domes- tic product. — Christian Advocate. 2 ——The monument foundation iu the Diamond at Lewistown has been complet- ed. Excavation to the depth of fifteen feet was made and ninety tons of sand, one hundred and sixty-five barrels of cement and one hundred and sixty-two wagon loads of crushed stone were used to form the foundation. It is probable: that the main shaft will not be placed into position before next spring. The monument when completed will be sixty-three feet, four inches in height. Conundrums. ‘Why is a washerwoman like a sailor ?”’ ‘‘Because she keeps crossing the line and going from pole to pole.” Why is an active volcano like a talkative woman ? : Because both keep ‘‘spouting.” When do boys resemble the wind ? When whistling. When are bad boys like grain? When getting thrashed. -———She—Why is it that you never have much to say to the ladies ? He—Oh, I have enough to say, but they have so much more to say to me that I don’t get a chance to say my say. ——When a man has his treasore in heaven he does not wake up in a fright every time he hears a mouse in the house. ——There never was a man who did not occasionally manufacture a groan to excite the sympathy of his friends. ——If you would be a leader yon must have a way of laughing at iidicule and rocks. ——The devil never worries over the man who saves all his smiles for the stranger. ——The rich man cannot have a better bank than the poor man’s cellar. ——The lowly place of service may be the mountain top of communion. Indian Summer. This is a period of tremulous mystery, writes C. Leon Brumbauogh in the Johns- town Democrat. The beautiful Indian legend that a child born in this season would combine the quality of supreme tenderness with supreme valor had its origin perbaps in the physical nature of this splendid interval in the ‘snow month.”” This relation of meteorology with destiny was po more foolish than other people’s ideas concerning the infln- ence of the natal star, at least. If there be truth in this red man’s myth of Indian summer, may the world see hosts so good- ly favored ! We shall then bave a race ot the nobility of nature. The fascination of these hours seems to lie somewhere beyond the horizon; at any rate, it is not at one’s feet and 1s never reached. Like the rainbow’s elusive gold to the eye, it is ever receding from the grasp of the soul. There is, however, a serene joy in the apparent vearness. It lies somewhere within the sphere of things that mould the sonl to beauty and to hope. A vague pensiveness remarks in the still- ness of field and wood. Those ghosts of the late smiling summer—the bare, brown stems of flowers—haunt the memory with pictures of fair delight in form and color. The faint rustling of lifeless leaves stirs the fancy to far-off spring avd points to proph- ecies of unborn splendor. The tinkle of wandering bird songs carries the listener on fleet wing to subdued melodies familiar and dear. Reflection is now the general- issimo of one’s moods, and commands to brave thoughts and true. An unspeakable tenderness finds accent in these orders. There is no sadness in the Indian sum- mer. While life bas ebbed, it’ has hut re- tired for repose. The hibernating mammals and batrach- iaps have gone into dormancy. The fur- beavers have their new and finest coats. Larvae have gone into their fairy cocoons and chrysalids. Birds of the summer have departed. Trees have prepared for their next burgeoning and bloom. Rootstocks are stored and children of the free fields have found couches until the eall of spring. In this matter of preparation Indian sum- mer advances matters a step so that the general resurrection will take place as soon as the sepulchral stone of winter is re- moved. -—Tom—I had my fortune told the other day, and my fiancee broke off the en- gagement. Jack—Why, is she a believer in sanch nonsense ? Tom—Nonsense nothing ! her by a mercantile agency. It was told True Friends. ‘‘A friend cannot be known in pros- perity, and an enemy cannot he hid in ad- versity. True friends visit us in pros- perity only when invited, but in adversity they come without an invitation'’’ -—Tom—Did Miss Warbler sing for you the other evening when you called on her ? Jack—Yes; she sung a couple of songs after a good deal of pressing. ——1It depends on education to open the gates which lead to virtue or to vice, to happiness or to misery. ——Some people start in to save for a rainy day and then become frightened at the first little cloud. ——1I¢ is hard to sit before a steam radi- ator and call up recollections of a happy past. FORAKEC. i Dhio Senator We! f.oiciid Inter-State Commerce Law. Washington, Nov. 25.—Senator For- aker presented to the senate committee on inter-state commerce the draft of his bill to amend the inter-state com= merce law. The senator stated that he had tried to meet the complaints against present railroad conditions and at the same time avoid conferring upon the inter-state commerce commission, or any similar body, the power over rail- road rates. The Foraker bill, however, provides for enjoining the publishing and charg- ing of excessive rates and for enjoining and discrimination forbidden by law, whether between shippers, places, com- modities or otherwise, and wheher ef- fected by means of rates, rebates, clas- sifications, private cars, preferentials, “or in any other manner whatever,’ While this does not confer upon the court the power to fix a rate it does authorize the court to say what is an unlawful rate and how much is unlaw- ful and to enjoin he carrier from charging more than is found to be law- ful. The bill also is designed to pro- hibit the giving of passes; to allow free access to railroad documents and to meet complaints as to rail rates on export and import freight. Provision is made so that the laws to expedite cases in the courts will ap- ply to the new law. No carrier is al- lowed to grant a special rate or in any manner collect from any person a greater or less compensation than it receives from any other person. CUSTOM HOUSES SEIZED Allied Fleet Lands Sailors On Island Mytilene. London, Nov. 28.—The Daily Mail publishes the following dispatch from Mytilene, dated November 27: “Right warships of the combined fleet arrived here at 8 o'clock this morning. Admiral Ritter Von Jedina, accompanied by the Austrian consul, proceeded to the government house at 10.30 o’clock and handed an ultimatum to the governor. At 1 o'clock this after- noon 500 sailors landed and seized the customs and telegraph offices. Every- thing is quiet.” Say Sultan Accedes to Demands. Vienna, Nov. 28.—-The Neue Freie Presse published a dispatch from Con- stantinople saying that the sultan, through Tewfik Pasha, the foreign minister, has announced to Baron Von Calice, the ambassador of Austria Hungary, that Turkey accedes to the demands of the powers regarding the financial control of Macedonia.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers