Sa ] i : ¥ i EE Bellefonte, Pe., Jan. 19, 1906. THE RESCUE I “I dislike,” eaid Mise Harmony Bright, with accustomed emphasis, ‘‘above all other names I dislike the name of —Tuthill. And I do vot think Iowa as all the proper sort of State for Everly to choose a wile from.” Sescom Bright, her brother—{amous banker, famous owner of trotting-horses, whose with and without the distor- tion of ca re, is (I bad almost writ ten) a *‘houshold word’’—Sescom Bright continued reading the lester. “+I am so happy,’ ’’ he pronounced, in the same droil, quiet manner be bad found effective for after-dinner anecdotes, ** ‘She is the sweetest girl in the world ; I am sure, pater, you will take to her. She's not a bit like New York girls’ 7’—Miss Harmony Bright groaned alond—'' ‘she’s so whole-souled, and when she looks into your eyes—''" Sescom Bright stopped short. *‘! think that’s all of importance,’ he said, replacing the letter in its enve- | 504 1 secon; demanded Miss Harmony Bright, ‘‘you will cable him at once to break the engagement ?"’ “Do you want to marry the girl ?"’ “‘Certainly not.” Precision and neatness are perhaps the surface traits of Sescom Bright's character. “1 Siok, % be said, . I shall write and con- te the . oN hi “‘Bessie Tut- Miss Harmony gasped. hill? Iowa ? Oh, Sescom !"’ continued the banker, will bave “The letter,” ‘“‘comes from Brussels. three weeks in Paris, Miss thill sails from Cherbourg on the 14th, and Everly will return home with her, of course. Please write Mies Tuthill and her chap- eron, Miss—Miss Perrin, as soon as pos- sible. Ask them to visit us before going on West. I shall write Miss Tathill’s father myself, when I think proper to do #0.” ‘‘You mean to receive her ?"’ “Why not? Everly says she’s the ‘sweetest girl in the world !” “Everly,” commented Miss Harmony Bright, “is a fool !"”’ “He is my only son,” said the banker. II When Everly Bright achieved his diploma at Yale University, he was twenty-two years old. A week later, on the third day of July, 190-, he set sail for Naples on the good i “Aller,” and took with him on that occasion an ample letter of credit and his father’s blessing. ‘‘I suppose he'll ges into trouble,” was Miss Harmony Bright's only comment on the adventurer ; ‘‘he al- ways does.” “Bat he always gets out again,’’ was ber brother’s response. As for Everly in person, he had small thought for troubles past or to some. One is not always twenty-one, one has not al- ways graduated from Yale in spite of an adverse laculty,not always does one possess an ample letter of credit and the wide ways of the earth for play-ground. When these things concur, it rains only perfumes ; when these things concar, it is very plea- sant only to breathe, and to move bere and there with an eye out for the unexpected. When one is twenty-two, the unexpected is always a girl. Everly saw her the second day out ; she was leaning back in a steamer-chair, eating candy from a two-pound box. She was rather a large girl, with a plump, pretty face, a little heavy in type. When she smiled, her cheeks dimpled and ber eyes almost closed. She looked very good- natured. Everly merely noticed her in passing ; the girl, for her part, hall turned to follow him with her eyes down the long promenade-deck. ‘‘That’s the first swell- looking man I've seen,” she remarked to her chaperon. Miss Perrin, the chaperon, was talking with much expressive gesture toa short, heavily built man of middle who stood beside her steamer-chair. ‘‘My dear Bes- sie,” she said, ‘‘whom are you rattling on abont ? I thought you were asleep.” “Not she !"’ laughed listle Lawyer Gra) le, the man of middle age. ‘‘Miss Bessie idee out her cavalier with disore- tion. ‘That was young Everly Bright, Miss Bessie ; I had bim pointed out te me in the emoking-room."”’ Mies Bessie dimpled vaguely, but Miss Perrin at once eat up and raked the deck fore and aft with restless ‘black-beaded’ eyes. ‘‘Surely you don’t mean he's the son of Sescom Bright, the millionaire? hen Ne nd agai tly, Mise © rou 0 ys Perrin. He seems to ‘biok the prom- enade-deck is a ranning-track.’”’ Miss Per- rin sank back to her cushions and address- ed Mr. Grapple with a siren smile. *‘Youn’ll introduce vs, won't you? I do so want Bessie to meet the right people, and have all the advantages.”’ The thick-set little lawyer rubbed bis somewhat scrubby cheek, ‘I'll bave to . meet him myself, first,” he raid. ‘Ob, here he comes !"” Everly rounded into view forward and came down the deck with bis long, easy stride. Miss Bessie did not look up, but just as Everly neared her the two-pound box of candy slipped from her lap and fell, scattering bon Well-bred Everly at once ran to assist the fair unfortunate. He picked up the box, handed it to her, and stooped to gath- er again the fallen sweets, “Ob, please don’t bother.’’ said Miss Bessie, just the least littie flutter in the world rippling her voice. ‘'I've lots more in the cabin. You're awfully good. Won't you have one? This is Miss Perrin, my chaperon ; I'm Miss Tuthill.”” She raiced her big blue gray eyes to poor Everly’s with the most engaging of smiles. He stammered something Jolie, blushing to the roots of his hair. ‘‘My name’s if," he said ; “'I—I hope you don’t mind my interfering.” And before Miss Perrin could put in a tranquilizing word, he was off down the sloping deck with new and effective speed. ‘Bessie,’ said Miss Perrin, *‘I'm ashzm- ed of yon. Why didn’t you introduce Me. G oP “Ho, ho !" laughed little Lawyer Grap- eo, , Pm not a swell—am I, Miss murmared Miss Bessie, ‘‘that my box should fall just then !” *“‘Yon mustn't be so careless, dear,” smiled Miss Perrin. Ii On the laat Sighs one from Naples Miss Béssie and Everly met together forward in the shadow A svelte, 1s soft, southern night ; down on the steerage-d some one was playing a mandolin. There “Wasn's is awlal,” eck | your father ?"’ was a moon, but Miss Bessie said it always made her homesick to look at the moon. They had been silent for some moments, when Miss Bessie, not too vaguely, remark- ed, “I'm sorry it's over.” “It isn’t over,’’ said Everly. “I though we landed tomoriow ?"’ “Oh m Silence. “What did you mean, Mr. Bright, by saying ‘Is isn’t over?’ “[—I meant—I—I hoped we should see something of each other this summer—now and then, you know—on the Continent.” “On Silence. “You've traveled a lot, haven’t you, Mr. Bright ?”’ “Well, when I was 2 kid they yanked me round moreor less. But I don’t re- member much about it.” ‘Are you going—any place in particu- lar?” “Not much ! I mean to chance it !"’ “Wouldn’t it be lovely if Perry and I should to meet you SoRlehi ues ” Perry knows just where we're going to every day To J next three months.” “Does she?’ asked Everly, with im- ge A hed good-tempered e laughed—a -tempe listle chuckle. ‘‘She the schedule in her diary ; I ¢ t I'd better copy it for fear she might ps lose it some day forget where to go nexs.”’ “You—you wouldn't let me take a copy, would you ?'’ asked palpitating Everly. “I wouldn’t let anyhody else take one,’’ raped simple Miss Bessie. ence. “‘What I like about life on ship-board,”’ said blissful Everly, ‘‘is the chance it gives yon to meet nice le. I never make any new friends in New York. Aunt Har- mony sees to that.” “What a funny name ! Something like ‘harmonica,’ isn’t it ?"’ A delicious giggle. “Oh, please, Mr. Bright, do tell me more about New York. I just love to hear about swell people.” “How sweet a unafiavied she wit thought bappy Everly. ‘‘How eren rs other girls! I wonder if —'' But the voice of Miss Perrin, who, in company with Mr. Grapple, was extending her Skitwishing line, interrupted his refles. tions. Miss Bessie rose hurriedly. ‘Good night,’ she said, holding out both bands, but withdrawing one as Everly attempted to meet them ; ‘‘here come Perry and her bean.” As Everly’s Rogers pressed hers, they closed upon a small square of folded Jager ; a wonderful thiill swept through m “Bessie I" he whispered. Bat Miss Bessie was gone away into the moonlight. i" The summer passed. Everly followed Miss Bessie and her unchaperoned chap- eron up through Italy to moonlit Venice, to Bellagio of the blue hortensiae, across the Tete-Noire to Chamouni, to Geneva, to Lucerne, to Munich, Nuremberg, Frank- fort, Cologne—Brussels ! It was from this hillside city that he wrote home to his father proclaiming Mies Bessie for bis fu- tare wife. As he wrote—be it understood ~—he trembled. A vision, not of the pater hut of Aunt Harmony, rose menacing be- fore him ; in spite of himself be heard her say, ‘So this is Miss Tuathill ?"’ saw the nipping kiss of [rost to follow, and with a sudden clairvoyance saw lifted eyebrows when Miss Bessie’s back should first have turned. He despised himself for this prophetic imagination of ills to come. It seemed to him disioyal to her. in Paris Miss Perrin and her charge stop- ped at the Hotel de I’Amzrique at the re- quest of Everly. This hotel is supported by wealthy Americans ; one hears little French there. As Everly wae entering his own name in the register, his eye glanced up the sheet and came to rest on the names ‘Mr. and Mrs. Belmont Bright, Miss Cynthia Bright, New York city.” Mr. Belmont Bright was his father’s ball. brother. Everly gnailed. “They will see her !"” He tried to un- think the thought and so aveid his per- turbation. The thought remained. When he entered the dining-room that evening with Miss Bessie and Miss Perrin, be cast a nervous glance to right: and left ; then he looked straight ahead and encoun- tered the black, wirthful eyes of Cynthia. He bowed, blushing. When he had found a desirable table for his party in quite another corner of room, he excused himself, crossed to his uncle's table, and told bis auot, his uncle aud his cousin how very and how very glad he was to see them. The first assertion was impeccably trne. ‘Whom are you din gy ?7 asked Cynthia, wickedly. ‘‘She looks very healthy—I mean the young woman, of course.’ Now it would bave been the manly thing, as Everly wel! knew, for him to say, “I am dining with Miss Tuthill, my fiancee, and with Mies Perrin, her companion.” What he did say was this : ‘Oh, that's a little girl I’ve picked up en route— Bessie Tuthill !"’ Cynthia smiled Sppioval. “I wish I were a man and con up plamp little nohodies ! It must be fun, rather?’ Mrs. Belmont Bright demurred—*‘Cyunthia !"’ Everly was about to leave them. ‘When do you sail ?"’ asked bis uncle. “‘From Cherbourg, the 14th.” “No !"” from Cynthia. ‘What a fortunate chance !"’ from Mrs. Belt Bright. returned to Miss Bessie, be a, “Who are they ?'’ asked Miss Bessie. cena wi vous ¥" st tl your n ? “Yes,” said Beale, As in duty hound, Miss Harmony Bright accompanied her brother to Pier No.— The great vessel, aviag done ite part, lay vely and let itself be pushed ded into ite berth by four or five pro- fane, petulant little tugs. The ge were lowered ; the priconers streamed hy glad-eyed, with tumult of feet and cries of delighted recognition. Handkerchiefs waved, and those who could not get them- selves heard made hideous faces, intended to Jrejecy mimetic joy and welcome. t, famous hanker, famous owner of horses, had achieved for himself and bis sister an enviable tion near the first-cabin gangway. His did not betray emotion, but little muscles just Bes. | at the articulation points of sither jaw Slgergately champs his bit so under 7e- straint, When his only son appeared on the RaY: he stared searchingly at the girl be- e him. ‘Sescom !"’ exclaimed Miss Harmony Bright, *‘is’s Cynthia!” “Bo it is,”’ admitted the famous banker, dryly. “Everly, my boy, how are you?" ‘Pretty fit, pater !” Cynthia. Where's “Welcome home, “Dad and Mama are coming. Mama awfully sick all the wav over, poor dear-- she always is!" Then as Everly stepped aside to salute his Aunt Harmony, Cyn- thia added, in & delicions whisper, *‘Well, I hope you're satisfied—I've Everly I” *‘You got my cable ?"’ “Of course. I persuaded dad to change our sailing date—aund now poor Everly thinks he's engaged to me! It's a little rough on him, per but——Oh, there's Miss Tathill now—the fat, red-cheeked rl—no, there, flirting with the purser ! ig he Cynthia,” rred fam “My dear Cyn pu ous banker Sescom Bright, in a fatherly aside, “‘conldn’s you matage to make this engage- ment permanent Cynthia laoghed. ise m Now just at this instant Miss Harmony Bright's cnltivated, carefully modulated voice rose above modesty and the natural piteh in a shrill paean of lov. Everly, standing beside her, looked a little sheep- ish, but fairly happy and self-satisfied. ~-By Lee Wilson d, in the Cosmopol- itan. rescued “Ob, I can’t prom- Hello ! A young lady, desiring to communicate with a certain society heau, was told to call him up by telephone at his club at a cer- tain hour. She rang up the exchange, gave the number, and waited. Presently a voice said : ‘Hello !"” ‘‘Hello,”” abe replied. ‘‘Is Mr. 8. there ?”’ “Mr. who ?” “Mr. 8. “Mr. 8. ? No.” ‘‘Are you sure?" “Yes, sure. We haveno record of any ove of that name being here.” “Please look and see if he isn’t some- where about.” “There's no use looking, ma'am. We bave ’em all down iu the book.”’ “Well, it is strange. I was told that he would be there at this hour.” “Say, look here, what number do yon want ?"’ “Why, 2085." “Oh, that’s the——City Club. This is the Morgue.” —Lippincott’s. A Striking Fact. A young man was riding in the cab with a locomotive engineer. ‘Now,’ said the young man, shudder- ing, ‘‘suppose a stageload of children were to glide onto the track from that lane— what a blessing it would be if you could stop short, instantly, like a man walking.”’ ‘‘Blessing ?"’ said the engineer. ‘‘Why, young fellow, if that stage you speak of were to appear now, and I eculd stop short like a man walking, I wouldn’t de it. In- stead, I'd keep right on and kill the kids.” “Why on ‘‘Because it would be the more humane course. In onecase there won'd be a stage- load of kids slanghtered ; in the other case there would be the slangliter of a trainload of people. The train is going at the rate of forty-five miles an hour, and the sud. den stoppage of a train going at that rate would give the passengers precisely the same shock that they would get from a fall of fifty-four feet—a fall from a housetop.”’ Indoor Amusements for Little Folk, A pleasant pastime for little ones on bad days when getting out of doors is impos- sible is for them to take their slates and pencils and write across the tops of the slates a four-syllabled word. Then see how many sentences can be written with the letters contained in this one word. Sometimes quite a story can be made up of words containing the letters spelling one very long, many-syllabled word. Writing letters to each other through the use of characters and pictures--called ‘‘pozzle letters’ —also affords much amuse- ment to the little folks as well as training them in drawing, and cultivating in them a sense of humor and originality. Free Free Free. Fan and laogbter for the children. A | genuine and complete cirons with animals given away Free every Sunday, with the Philadelphia Sunday Press. Everything complete. Every child loves animale. The Sunday Press costs only 5 centa the copy. Tell your dealer or carrier to save you a the | copy next Sunday. So many people buy the Sunday Press each week that yon must order is in advance or otherwise yon may not be able to it. If your dealer does not bave it, send your order to the Philadelphia Press. — -~With every visit of thestork to his home, George Cramer, a farmer, of Eldo- rado, Ia., getsa check for $1000 from his father in Germany, and the stork has twelve visits. Although he bas not more than ordinarily successful as raising Sropss Cramaer hin oleared $12,000 raising es. Bee Keeping for Women. To one familiar with the care of bees it is surprising ihat more women do vot at- tempt bee-keeping as a means of earning money. To many the word *‘hee’’ is asso- ciated with thoughts of wild chases with tin pans and cow bells after absconding swarms, and later nursing innumerable painful stings. With the wodern method ol caring for hees, swarming is | y done away with, and there is little danger of stings. There are many reasons why bee-keeping us a money-making occupa- tion should appeal strongly to women, says a writer in the September Housekeep- er. The work is light; there is no part of it a womau of ordinary strength cannot do, except to carry the hives into winter guar ters and ret thems out on their stands again in the »pring. There is no dirty or | disagreeable work about it as there is about ltry raising or gardening. It is a ealthfal occupation. h not requir- iug a great amount of attention, one will unconsciously he drawn out of doors to note when the first pussy willows or alders blossom or when the hees begin to fill the tiny ‘‘baskets’’ on their legs with pollen, which is the food for the larva-baby bees. Bee-keeping can be carried on almost anywhere, whether one has a home of her own or uot, or whether it be in city or country. Bees have been kept in garrets, on the flat roofs of city buildings, in oot. buildings, in boate which travel by night, in small back yards; io fact, almost any place where there is room to set a hive, and there are few localities where bees oan- not he Kept at a profi, if nightly managed. Although there are certain tasks to be attended to at certain times, the work is not continuous. A forenoon or afternoon, ovce a week, given to the work during the buss season would be all that is necessary to cure for a large number of hives when | one has hecome thoroughly acquainted with the work. Two hives are all a person should begin with. Oue can learn as much | from one or two Lives as from a dozen, but | it is better to have more than one hive un- | til one kas learned to winter them safely. The Blessiugs of Cold. Io the Medical Era for October. Dr. Rob- | ert Peter maintains that cold is a blessing when you learn to endure it. He points out that its endurance can be acquired gradually if begun early in the season. He does not helieve in coddling the body with woolens. ‘“‘Better keep blood in circula- tion hy outdoor exercise,” says he, ‘‘so that if heavier clothing should really be needed the body will not require its en- cumbrance too much.” Graduated bathe, with friction, he tells us, will harden the body very much, espe- cially when followed by vigorous exercises in graded temperatores. *'I know a man,” says he, ‘who is always astir and who wears not even a shirs, bus only blue jeaus and blouse, all the year round. He has his windows open all the year round, | day and night, vo dre, and thoroughly en- {joys it. While this ix an extreme case, it | shows how oue can inur: himself to cold.” Dr. Peter expresses the conviction that the subjects of ventilation and heating, | which are important factors in the winter | mouths, are not as well understood as they | might be, and he attributes much of the { illoess during the inclement part of the | year to the fou! air and fuel gases, to | which the baneful effects of indoor life are mainly doe. According to him conditions should be reversed, and it would be wiser to camp out and bask in the winter sun aud to stay at home in the summer shade. “As to ventilation,”’ says he, ‘‘it can vever be overdone, and especially is this true at night. Oar bedrooms should be well ventilated. One-third of our lives is spent in them. A bedrcom with southern exposure is probably best in winter and it isa cheer and godsend. It is death to germ life. It will cut short a cold or ca- tarrh and the white plague cannot lurk there. As we need the shade in summer, we need the son in winter.” After a consideration of the diet, which | should be more stimulating at this season | of the year, the author emphasizes the fast | that the respiratory organs mostly stand the brunt of the winter discases. e doc- i Rulieven at we was look Xe oie oir- culation to help us out in our axis. “Alter a cold is ae os hi he says, ‘‘open the flood gates of elimina- tion and equalize the circulation. A good physic or a Turkish bath may restore con- ditions." —*'Seientific American.’ The Snake's Hiss. an instinctive horror and suake, and it is nov strange Ww sowe of them clever enough to imitate the hiss, and thus gain a means of defense that in Jiksly to prove very valuable in case of a . : . Cats, we know, have a habit of hissing when attacked. Many animals would not hesitate to nee on members of that tribe, but they would think several times before encountering Every animal in oreation, Jeans, read of that we EEE —— an angry, hissing ——Uncle--Who is that man you said | Sake. The wildcat has ber home in a you were going 0 marry to reform him? Niece—It's Mr. Millions. Unole~-Indeed ! I didn’t know he had any bad habits. iece—- Well, his friends say that he is becoming quite miserly. ——Mr. E. R. Mark--I’ve just been elect- ed ‘Grand Worshipal Master of the Tem- ple in my lodge.” Mrs. Mark—What will you bave todo? a Mr. E. Z. Mark--Goard the outside oor. ~——Uncle—Well, here’s the money you've heen bothering we for. Now, re- member the old saying that ‘‘A fool and his mouey are easily parted.’”” Nephew—I don’t know about that. I've had to coax you for more than a week for this ! ——State Treasurer-elect William H. Berry attended a banquet given by the Democratic club of Willia at the Park hotel, Monday night lact week, being the principal speaker. ——An ! says & Clinton county woman during her fall hatsing sip is said to bave hugged a deer to death. [tis not such an uncommon experience for a man to hug a dear to death. ——Madge-—~See here, what did you mean by iog I wasn't hall witted ? Yabsley—What shall 1 say ? That you are ball witted ? —-—Meat trusts are unknown in Aus tralia. Largely for this reason, mutton sells as low as two cents a pound. — «Jacc—1I'olish ’em up, Sir? Hippc—--Naw ! 1 don’t want any of your ‘Monkey Shines.” hollow tree, and her little kittens would make a dainty meal for almost any prowl- ing wild beast, had their mother no way of scaring off intruders. But when the beast looks into the hole, and ety id glaring eyes, $6 Jaid-hask ears exposed fangs angry cat, and hears her & hiss of defiance, itisnot tobe w at that he takes ber for a snake, and beats a quick retreat. Conundrums. What is the color of the wind and the color of the storm?—The storm rose and the wind blew. Why do short men always rise early?— Because it is impossible for them to lie 1 Who was the first whistler, and what air did be whistle?—The wind, and he whis- tled “‘Over the Hills and Far Away.” Which is the Queen of the Roses?—The rose of the watering pot which rains (reigns) over them. Why is the moon like a sword?—Is is the glory of the (K) night. Make five less by adding to it?—IV. Why is an unwelcome visitor like the Hoosac Tunnel?—A great bore. Why is a newspaper like an army?—Be- cause it has leaders, columns and reviews, What day will New Year's fall on in 1928? — January 1st, of course. Reliet from Rheumatism. Your rheumatic correspondent, ‘‘M. H.,” may find relief by eliminating from her di- etary sugar and milk, or oream, together in any form, es ly in tea or coffee. Either may be taken alone, but not at the same meal. A glass of pure water an hour before meal Sime; two meals a day of good cereal and hos milk, fruit, if wanted; a gen- erous dinner of meat, vegetables, eto., will cure an aggravated and painful case of rheumatic trouble, as I can testify. CONSTANT READER. A SONG OF SOLACE. Dear Heart, some day When thou shalt wake to find that | am gone, Cry not; “Oh, lonesome day!" but rathe’ 35; “He loved the dawn!" In spring, in spring, When down our graden-psth sweet per- fume blows, Sizh not, but smile with Memory and sing: “He loved tt ¢ rose! Afar, afar, When thou shalt greet anight | cannot know, Weep not, but say of moon and twilight “iar: “He loved them so!" Thus with the dawn, rose, twilight star and moon I shall be near to thee and thou to me— Oh, blessed boon! — Clarence Urmy. Crippled and 8'ck Guests at Play of Grand Opera House. There was unusual incentive for the comediaus playing at the Grand Opera house at a matinee during the flist week of January to put forth their best efforts in fonmakiog, as a large percentage of the audience was composed of sripples and in- mates of the Episcopal Hopita , maoy of whom bad never hefore the pleasure of attending a theatre. It was through the benevolence of the management of the theatre, G. A. and W. D. Wegefarth, and the chief comedian of the play, “Happy” Ward, that nearly 300 of these De unfortunates were given an afternoon of rare enjoyment. Not only did the theatre provide enter- taipment, but it forpished the means of transportation. Three large ’buses, filled with yzed and crippled men, women and little children, ran from the hospital to the theatre and back again at the close of the performance. It was almost pitiful to see the eager joy of some of the little patients as their first glimpse of the inside of a theatre, but the men and women, though pleased and excited by the nnusval outing, did not show their delight as openly as the litle ones. Drs. H. M. Hansmer and Carl Boardman, with several nurses, accompa- nied their charges and helped make them comfortable. One of the surprises of the afternoon was the distribution of candy to all the guests from the Blspial by Miss Frances E. Wegefarth, Miss Merriman, of Narberth; Miss Kennedy, of Cape May; Miss Basnes, of Bryn Mawr, and Mies Burke. G. A. Wegelarth, the manager of the theatre, ie especially interested in the Episcopal Hospital, since he was himself a patient there during a serious illness some time ago. The second matinee gave toa still larger number of people who rarely view a theatrical performance a chance to laugh at the antics of Lucy Daly and evjoy the rest of the funmakers who appear in “The Grafter.” For this matinee nearly 1500 tickets were distributed among the inmates of the of the Home of the Merciful Saviour, Day Nursery, Masonic Home, Nazarene Home, Odd Fellow’s Orphanage, Home for Friend- less Children, Home for Aged Couples, Home for Widows and Single Women, Home for aged Veterans and Wives, Home for Poor Children, Day Nuisey, German- town; Point Breeze Settlement, Bethseda Orphanage, Santa Claus Association, Old Ladies’ Home, St. Vincent’s Home for Orphans, Penn Widows’ Asylum, Gonzago Memorial and other institutions. — Phila. delphia Record. In Short Chapters. The United States leads the world in the consamation of tobacco, namely, over 440,- 000,000 pounds every year. The second largest tobacco consuming country is Ger- many, with 202,000,000 pounds. Then follows Russia, with 150,000,000 pounds. The next largest users are France, 84,000,- 500 pounds; Great Britain, 83,000,000 pounds; Austria, 78,000,000 pounds; Hun- gary, 48,000,000 pounds; Belgium, 44,000,000 pounds; . Italy, 35,000,- 000 pounds; Canada, 15,500,000 pounds; Mexico, 14,000,000, and Australia ’ with 10,000,000 pounds. Per i- ta of the population, however, tig claims the first place, namely, 6.21 pounds, while the. per ta consumation in the United States is about 5.40 pounds, and in the Fatherland only 3.44 pound. ——————————— The Spirit of Winter. The Spirit of Winter is with us, making its presence known in many different ways —gometimes by cheery sunshine and glis- tening snows, and sometimes by driving winds acd blindiog storms. To many Phe ib ucema to take a delight in Ey things worse, for rheumatism twists harder, swinges shy r, catarrh Jeeomes more annoying, e many symptoms scrofula are developed ot There is not much ppetry in this, is truth, and is is a wonder that more peo ple don’t get rid of these ailments. e cures them—Hood’s Sareapa- rilla—is easily obtained and there is abnn- dant proof that its oures are radical and permanent. —*‘] believe I can trathfully say, re- marked the self complacens man, ‘‘that I have ouly one fault, and that’s a small one “Yes,” replied the candid man. ‘‘Thas’s just like the hole in a nickel. It may bea Smal wele, but it makes the nickel no — Gaston—I tell you, old man, Miss Watkyns is a mighty sensible girl—the most sensible girl, I think, I ever knew. Alphonse—I think you're right, my io I wonldn’t advise you to propose to er. “Your wile certainly bas a remarkable command of language,” said Gray. “Yes, I presume she has,’ rejoined Smith, *‘but there are times when I am inclined to think it has command of her.” tt] bear that Bingleson has reform- “Yes.” “What was the cause?’’ “He lost the easy job he had and is compelled to earn the small wages he's now drawing.” ‘I make it an invariable rule,’ said Mr. Stormi Barnes, ‘‘not to talk about myself.” “Indeed?” “Yes. When I wae asked recently who the greatest Hamlet is I refused to an- swer.”’ —~—Love is a subject in the considera. tion of which two Leads are a million times better than one. HOW LINCOLN CLIMBED. A Long, Hard Path to Reach a Good Fee Before the Sapreme Court, The lawyer who works his way up from a five dollar fee in a suit before a Justice of the peace to a $5,000 fee be- fore the supreme court of his state has 2 long and hard path to climb. Lincoln climbed this path for twenty-five years, with industry, perseverance, patience— above all, with that self control and keen sense of right and wrong which always clearly traced the dividing line between his duty to his client and his duty to society and truth. His pdcfect frankness of statement assured him the confidence of judge and jury in every argument. His habit of fully admitting the weak points in his case gained him their close attention to his strong ones, and when clients brought him question. able cases his advice was always net to bring suit, “Yes,” he once said to a man who of fered him such a case; “there is no rea: sonable doubt that I ¢an gain your case for you. I can set a whole neighbor hood at loggerheads; I can distress a widowed mother and her six fatherless children and thereby gain for you $600, which rightfully belongs, it appears to me, as much to them as it does to you. I shall not take your case, but I will give you a little advice for nothing. You seem a sprightly, energetic man, 1 would advise you to try your hand af making $600 in some other way.” He would have nothing to do with the “tricks” of the profession, though he met these readily enough when prac ticed by others. He never kn undertook a case in which justice was on the side of his opponent. That same inconvenient honesty which prompted him in his storekeeping days to close the shop and go In search of a woman he had innocently defrauded of a few ounces of tea while weighing out her groceries made it impossible for him tc de his best with a poor case. “Swett,” he once exclaimed, turning suddenly to his associate, “the man is guilty. You defend him; I can't,” and gave up his share of a large fee.—Helen Nicolay in St. Nicholas, STAGE EPIGRAMS. The theater is the chastener of life.~ Euripides, An actor is a public instructor.— Euripides. The theater is the mirror of life.— Sophocles, Actors are the only honest hypo- crites.—Hazlitt, The theater is the devil's own terri. tory.—Edward Allyn. The stage represents fiction as if it were fact.—Betterton. The stage is the field for the orator as well as the comedian.—Roscius. A passion for dramatic art is inher ent in the nature of man—Edwin Por. rest. The drama is the most refined pleas- ure of a polished people~Dion Bouci- cault. It is In drama where poetry attains its loftiest flight.—Don Luis I. of Por- tugal. The stage is more powerful than the platform, the press or the pulpit— Anna Dickinson. Arcomedy is like a cigar;.if good, ev- ery one wants a box; if bad, no amount of- puffing will make it draw.—Henry James Byron. Some Big Oysters. The usual size of the shell of an oys- ter is three to five inches, but away back in tertiary times there were oys- ters in California that had shells thir teen inches long and seven or eight inches wide. The animal and shell would be enough for one stew at the An Eskimo Dainty. The greatest treat known to the Es- kimo boy or girl is a lump of sugar. morsel in a piece of tobacco leaf. This they place in their cheek and, smack- ing their lips deliglitedly, hold it there until it is dissolved. This dainty is called “laloop”-and is the choicest mor- sel known to the little Eskimo stomach. Different Service.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers