a Bellefonte, Pa., February 1, 1907.; THE UNIVERSAL ROUTE. As we journey along, with alaugh and a song, We see on youth's flower-decked slope, Like a beacon of light,shining fair on the sight, The beautiful Station of Hope. . But the wheels of old Time roll along as we climb, And our youth speeds away on the years ; And with hearts that are numb with life's sor- rows, we come To this mist-covered Station of Tears. Still onward se pass, where the milestones, alas! Are the tombs of our dead, to the; West, Where glitters and gleams, in the dying sun- beams, The sweet, silent Station of Rest. All rest is but change, and no grave can estrange The soul from its Parent above ; And, scorning its rod, it soars back to its God, To the limitless City of Love. —By Ella Wheeler Wilcox, THE BABY. Where did you come from, baby dear ? Out of the everywhere into the here. Where did you get your eyes so blue ? Out of the sky as | came through. What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ? Some of the starry spikes left in. Where did you get that little tear ? 1 found it waiting when I got here. What makes your forehead so smooth and high ? A soft hand stroked it as went by, What makes your cheek like a warm, white rose ? Something better than any one knows, Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ? Three angels gave meat once a kiss, Where did you get that pearly ear? God spoke, and it came out to hear. Where did you get those arms and hands * Love made itself into hooks and bands. Fest, whence did you come, you darling things? From the same box as the cherubs’ wings, How did they all just come to be you? God thought about me, and so I grew. Bat how did you come to us you dear? God thought of you, and so | am here. ~By George Macdonald, VIGNETTES OF WESTMORELAND. Tom Bindloss lived in the lonely valley of Grisedale, which lies far from the main centers of activity. It never hears the hom of the outside world, and except for a few weeks in the bright summertime, is sel- dom visited by the stranger. Tom's farm, for the name still clings to it, iz almost hidden by a group of tall fits and attracts no attention save when the smoke curling from the homely “‘Words- worth'’ chimney causes the stranger to stand for a few minutes and look at the quiet homestead. Perhaps the lonely val- ley was responsible in some measure for the molding of Tom's character, for he was stern and forbidding. A tall man with white locks, a hooked nose and thin hard lips, which intensified his austerity. He had lived his long hie wn the valley and with the exception of a day's holiday to a neighboring ‘“lipping”’ bad never heen from home. It is bard to differentiate between the claims of daily routine and environment which, with some men, preclude the diver- sions enjoyed by others, and mere stolid indifference to change of scene and place. To bave credited lnm with anything ap- proaching a fine ethical decision in such matters would have been the task of the idealist with a predilection for the creative and vivid, in preference to cold facts and true values. The choice seemed to have been made for him and not by him. Bindloss had inherited his ancestors’ essions and adopted their views of life, Praia which had done service for his grand- ther. He would never have sold the plaid, neither would he extend his mental outlook. “It was good enough for me fadder and it’s good enough for me’ was one of bis terse and emphatic declara- tions, His ancestors had passed away after a strenuous life with little variety. Each year they bad performed the tasks of the different seasons till there came a day when they failed to do so—and that was all. Their record for hard work was pro- verbial, and as Tom noticed the signs of a past acsivity, ‘round and about the farm, he smiled with the satisfaction of the materialist. For some years after his par- ents’ death Tom remained a bachelor and engaged a housekeeper, ‘to tidy upa bit and lenk efter things.” The woman was cast in a finer wold than the farmer, and the neighbors wondered “how she could stand a cross-grained fellow like him,” but she was a simple woman and did not look at the deeper side of life analytically. When Tom was well advanced in middle life be was sitting one evening by the fire watching Jauve's preparation for supper. He glanced at her intently for some time and then became impressed with two facts: that a wife was cheaper than a house- keeper, and that Jane could lay claim to a pleasing personality. The wooing was un- usual, hut it had the same ending as the most orthodox. They were married at the little chapel and Tom hurried back after the ceremony ‘‘to git t’ bay in, es it lenked like thraw- ing a shooer.” A few neighbors were pres- ens and gave little account of the wedding beyond the fact that Tom, on replying to the momentous question, ‘Wil Po bave this woman?'’ said impatiently, ‘Why it’s just what a com for, to be sure.” When Mike was born the old man said reflectively, *‘It’s a good job it’s a lad and ors a las; jen be handy aboot ¢ farm oor lang,’’ but many years awa before the lad could tala, pel 1 degree his father’s ambition. Mike was frail and delicate, and for once there was a break in the succession of the stalwart Bindlosses. Early manhood was reached before the lad was of substantial service on the farm. Then he grew stronger, but as the old man watched him among the sheep and io the harvess field, be said somewhat harshly, **T” lad will nivver be a Bindloss in this world.” Mike felt his father’s cen- gure even when it was unex , and be shrank from it as something unjust and unmerited. Under more favorable circam- stances he might bave developed the finer feelings of which he did not rightly ander- stand the value or significance; which were | his by divine heritage, bat which seemed | oat of place on thas bleak hill-side farm. Any feeble encouragement his mother was able to give was soon withdrawn, for when Mike was yet at school, she gave up a life that had seen little sunshive, but had fel: the shadow of a great sorrow. The Dalesfolk said she wight have lived “if nohbut for Mike's sake,” but the wiser onessaid, ““You don’t ken o',”" and this was significant of much. Within a few weeks of his wife's death Tom went to a neighboring fair and bought a new cart horse. He then adjourn- ed to another part of the town where the balf yearly hiring was held and engaged a ‘general.’ After this combined call npon bis purse and energy he tiamped home azain, refusing to stay to the market day dinner, on the plea that he ‘‘hed hed a nip would put him on till he gat yam.” Mike's life grew more distasteful as he grew older, for the old man became steraer —if that were possible. He worked bard from morn till night and failed to satisfy his father, who looked for the impossible. “Young fellows noo, a days don’t ksa they'r born, they don’t ken what wark is,” and then would follow a recital of his life as a boy. Mike was weary of such recitals, but listened withoot comments. It seemed strange that he did not leave the old home- Stead and begin life under happier condi- tions. Bat be lacked the energy and he often heard the threat, ‘If thoo waint does] say thoo'l nivver heva penny of mine." Mike received no wages except a few shil- lings at odd times, which barely kept him in clothes. It was perbaps fature pros pects which kept him submissive, added to the lethargy which sooner of later claims | the indifferent and makes him a bonds- man. In comparing his position with others Mike had only suffered from faint contrasts, in which there was little above the common-place. Bus one day the old man fell ill and that turned the current of Mike's life, just as the floods of the winter changed the chan- nel of the little brook which ran behind the house. ‘‘Thoo mun go to Dent's this efternoon and see aboot that lile job we hev between us.” Mike listened to details and set off at a rapid rate to cover the nine miles between the farms. He had never beeu there before and was interested in the prospect of seeing the *‘stock,’’ for Dent was the leading farmer in the valley of Deepdale. Dent, like old Bindloss, owned as well as farmed the land and was called a “‘statesman,’’ as is castomary under such circumstances. Mike did not fail to notice the signs of * prosperity as he approached the farm and said to himeelf, “T’ farm is well managed and neah mistek aboot it.” Alice Dent was inspecting her little garden plot and saying to herself that it wanted serious attention when she heard a step on the garden path. Turning round she saw Mike, and the young fellow raised his head and gazed for the first time at the lovely face and tall, slender figure of the statesman’s daughter. Her perfect oval face, the firm mouth, | the large kindly eyes, with their depth of sympathy,aud wealth of brown hair would have made her the beauty of any eeason if the magician’s wand could have lifted her from the environment of her dale and placed her with her sisters of higher rank. No wonder that Mike forgot his errand and stared dumbly at Alice Dent. Her beanty made him realize, as he had never done before, what an awkward fellow be was, and he felt her critical survey of him as if he were weighed in the balance and found wanting. Had she been an appari- tion Mike could only have continued fooking in that half dazed, hall admiring way. In his modesty Mike hardly took counsel with himself, and did not consider be was an attractive young fellow, but the girl did, and pondered these things in her hears. “Do you want tosee father?’ and Mike nodded at this interpretation of his errand. “Well, come in and sit down a hit. He wont he long, for T expect him back any minute.’’ Mike followed into a pleasant kitchen, wor unlike the one at home, but this had a different air, for Alice Dent was “hoose proud’’ and made the best of her materiale. Mike sat down on a settle in a state of mental unrest, He welcomed the scrutiny of the suspicions sheep-dog and patted its massive head, as he became dim- : | ly conscions of new conditions—of obsti- ust as easily as he wore the shepherd's nate questionings. Mike's introspection gradually succamb- ed to Alice's volubility. She brought her womanly influence to bear on him. Lit tle by little he told her of his home life, and iu thi= oofolding of a sad experience the lad unconsciously won the heart of the statesman’s daughter while he as yet ‘‘wor- shiped afar off.” He watched the preparations for tea with a pew interest. The apirit of the home took possession of him and be slowly dis- cerned the cleavage between the old and the uew world,into which he was entering. By the time old Dent came home Mike was already thinging how he could elude the vigilance of his father and pay another visit. “Well. lass, and is’t tea ready? I'=e gaily hungry,’’ and Dent came into the kitchen. “‘Gitten company et? Why its Bindloss's lad to be sure, thoo waint ken me, hut] yance sa thee et Grisedale, hoos’s auld man? thoo does hurt tek efter him et 0.” Mike in confusion mattered something about being ‘‘o reet and heped he was,” and then Alice told them to ‘‘draw up,” which meant tea was ready. Mike had never been so happy before, and drew various pictares in which Alice was the central figure. He would have had little tea if she bad not filled his enp without asking, and kept sayiog, ‘‘Make yourself at home.” They lingered at the meal till the prac- tical farmer scraped bis chair as he p! it back and said: ‘If thoo’s done we’ll hev a peep into’t shippon and aboot’s farm.” Mike mechanically followed Dent, and Alice watched them orossing the yard sill they entered the outbuildings. “What a kind lad, be's differents to the young fel- lows about here,”’ she reflected, as she slowly oleared away the tea things and made many mistakes in the process. The hush of evening was on the valley as Mike set his face to the west. In the distance the lake glistened, the purple was slowly dying from the hills. It was » time of peace. The dalesman felt its influence as he stole along and tried in vain to grasp the fullness of the new life. The spiritual in Mike was stirred. Part ofan old San- day school lesson, which had been buried beneath the years of indifference, came to his mind be murmured it witha v sense of its relativity, ‘‘who through the valley of Baca e it a well.”” He walked along for a while and then recalling the latter portion of the text, repeated it somewhat somnolently, ‘‘the rain also filleth the pools.” He stood at last in the shadow of his home and halted for a time. The kitchen | was dark when he entered and his father was #itting near the fir from mere force of habis, as the fire had long ago died out. The night was warm, but Mike felt a chill as he =as ou the end of a bench whieh 1an the length of the long, low win- | dow. It wae as if one had left the sunshine | of the noouday aud entered a gloomy {old ruin. Mike felt the contrast as his | thoughts retnrned to Deepdale. | *““hoo's been & lang time,”’ grunted ' Bindloss. *'I thowt thoo was nivver com- | ing back 1am.” His voice seemed indis- | tiner, for Mike heard as in a dream and | presently he kicked off his boots and silent- | ly walked up the oak staircase to hed. | The early moruing light was comiog into | the room ere Mike went to snatch a little sleep hefore the work of the day. He had maoy thoughts, but they were a mere hangie and did not represent any design. | Daring the next twelve months he was o' cheese and bread and a glass of ale, which missing on the majority of Sunday after- | noons aud explained matters hy saying: | “Old Dent asked me to gang ower noo and | then, as he is a bit lonely.” | “Why he's gitten a dowter hesn't he, | what meks him lonely?" | Mike offered no solasion and the father, cussion. nothing. moreland and the farmers were husy from fore another dawn. total of the past. Bat Mike was lifted his own, such a courtship which kings might envy, | and the silent mountains were the eternal witnesses of a pure trust. 4 at a trysting place besween the farms and were discussing the future. Before them loomed the figure of Bind- loss, and be seemed to be magnified as they giants in the mouuntain mist. “Oh I'll bring t'aald chap ‘round neah fear,” said Mike, putting hope hefore conviction. in her eyes as he left her and waved his hand at the corner of the footpath, which led into the main road. When he reached home Benson had ‘‘just been’t ’round o’t lambe’’ and was smoking his long clay. Mike sat down and pansed a moment he- futuredepended. There was little comfort different?” to marry Alice Dent. Thoo knas what a —aud then we need’nt bodder thee in any way. I've hed neah wages so far, but thoo wod give me a trifle, fadder, eh? We don’t want thee oot’s war and thoo kuas thas weel enough, but we don’t waops to wait langer and well nivver be yomnger. I hav'n’t Deen a had son to thee noo, hev 1.” Mike continued to make his disjointed and pathetic appeal and the old man smoked 1m silence. It is always an unequal hattle between the ardent on the one hand and the lao- dicean un the other, and Mike felt he was ouly beating the air. Old Bindloss slowly finished his pipe, knocked out the ashes and tossed it on the broad chimney piece. ‘‘So thoo wants to git wed’t, eh? well its neah girt matter I can tell thee, for I've gone throogh it my sel. There's plenty of time to do that efter I've gone,’ and he chuckled as he added, *‘thas will b2 a hit yet I expect.” “But fadder,” urged Mike, ‘‘we er do- ing thee neah harm, I nobbut wan't wages thoo wod give a man, and thoo will likely leeave m't money efter thy time.” ““Thoo’l hed to wais till then like I did,” and the old man snapped out his verdict. Had he looked ‘round he would have seen Mike whiten to the lips—but he did not notice. Bindloss had his breakfast alone next morning and the servant said, ‘‘Mike had gone efter’t lambs aboot three o'clock.” The day wore on, he did not retarn, and when a streak of light touched the face of the eight day clock the old man felta vague unrest, and went to look for him. He called on his way for some neighbors and they went silently over the ground Mike was in charge of. About two miles from the farm is a lonely bleak tarn. For- hidding rocks rise round about it, throw- ing a cold shadow over the water which looks black and bas few contrasts. Sowe- times the playfal breeze stirs it into motion aud the little white waves relieve the mo- notony of the surface as they chase one an- other to the shore. A gleam of light kin- dles it for a moment and is gone. haunt of the buzzard aod the raven. It bas many traositions, but they are the re- chance visitor. scape with their sharp eyes. gave a shont and pointed to the tarn. master who would never return. They aud drew it to land. The sad band retorn- ed to the homestead. The grief of the old" man made his com- the mountain path. coffin, for the dalespeople have deep sym- pathies. placed over Mike's grave and the shadow it. Sometimes a white haired old man, in the dusk of the evening, is seen to stand by the stone. His shin lips tremble as he reads the inseri Ambleside, Westmoreland, Eongland.— By James A Walmsley in The Christion Advocate. —You can never get life's perspective from time’s platform. ——If you dare not face a head-wind, you need not look for your harbor. What a different world this would be il we were all as smart as we think we are. -—]¢ is not the sigan of the cross, but She spirit of the cross that makes true relig- on. ——A man may be able to give advice and still unable to fulfill a promise. —'Tisn’t always the man who puts on Suwhelg front that is talked about behind who slept the greater part of Sunday after- noous, seemed indifferent to further dis: If be had his suspicions he said It was now the lambing season in West. the earliess streak of dawn till the long slanting shadows falling on the sides of the valley allowed them a brief re<pite he- To the farms hands that spring was the same as others, it was one of many and only swelled the sum ahove his fellows hecau<e he had e~me into There is a goiet dignity aboot One bright afternoon the two had met looked at him, just as Mike had seen the figures of his fellow shepherds rise like Alice shook her head, and there were tears fore asking the question upon which his in that impressive face, but “when was it ‘“‘Fadder,’” he at length began, ‘I want fine lass she is, couldn’t we livein't lile cottage—nohody’s been in for a time noo It is the ward of the searcher and seldom that of the The band of farmers swept the land- At last one Mike's collie was sitting by the side of the water watching with pathetic eyes for the found the body a few [feet from the shore panions shudder as he stumbled along Mike was buried in the village church- yard and all the neighbors followed the Old Bindloss caused a simple stone, hewn from the local gnarries, to he ofa fine old Norman bower falls across on, which is a prayer both for the d and the living: ‘Enter not into jndgment with the servant, O Robert EE. Loe's Century of Birth Re ealls Life of the Man. —— - It was with his Mexican laurels still fresh upon his brow that Robert E. Lee (horn 100 years ago ou the nineteenth day of January) came to make his residence in Mar, land in the spring of 1819. Imme- diately preceding his coming to Baltimore he bad heen appointed, with other army officers, to examine the coast of Florida, its existing defensive fortifications, and to re- commend localities for new ones. In Mary- land he was assigned to the construction of Fort Carroll, with which task he was oec- capied for about three years, and lived dur- ing that time in a house on Madison Ave. three doors above Biddle street. General Lee's son and namesake, Captain Robert E, Lee, in his published recollections of his father, gives a delightlal picture of his own childish memories of their residence in Baltimore. SON'S TRIBUTE TO FATHER. I used to go down with him to the fort quite often, writes the son. We went to the what! in a bus, and there we were met by a hoat with two omisinen, who rowed ug dawn to Sollers Point, where I was gen. erally lefts under the care of the people who lived there while my father went over to the fort, a short distance out in the river. These days were very happy oues lor me. The wharves, the shipping, the river, the hoat and oarsmen and the country difners we had at the house at Sollers Point all made a strong impression on me, bas,above all, I remember my father, his gentle, lov- ing care of me, his hright talk. his stories, his maxims and teachings. I was very proud of him and of the evident respect for and trust in him which everyone showed. These impressions, obtained at that time, have never left me. He was a greas favorite in Baltimore, as be was everywhere, especially with ladies and little children. When be and my mother went ont in the evening to some entertainment we were often allowed to sit up and see them off; my father as I remem- bered, aiways in full uniform,always ready and waiting for my mother, who was gen- erally late. He would chide her gently in a playfal way and with a bright smile. He would then bid us good-bye, and I would go to sleep with this beautiful picture in my mind, the golden epaulets and all— chiefly the epaulets. In Baltimore I went to my firer school, that of a Mr. Rollins on Mulberry street, and I remember how interested my father was in my studies, my failares and my lit- tle trinmphe. Indeed, he was se always, as long as I was at school and college, and I wish only that all of the kind, sensible, useful letters he wrote me had been pre- served. My memory as to the move from Baitimore, which occurred in 1852, is very im. Daring his residence in Baltimore Gen- eral Lee attended Mount Calvary Protes- tant Episcopal! church, and his home—now No. 908 Madison avenue— bears upon the wall fronting the avenue an appropriate tablet placed there asa tribute of remem. brance by the United Daughters of the Confederacy. A BIOGRAPHER'S IMPRESSION. General Lee returned to Baltimore sev- eral times in later life, and always seemed to feel for the city and its people a peculiar affection. He came in the spring of 1869, when his mission was to represent many representative Virginia gentlemen and to urge the construction of the Valley Rail- “road. A special meeting in the interest of this railroad was called at the Western Female High school, then situated on Fay- ette street, neat Westminster Presbyterian church. A recent biographer who attended that meeting writes : “The busiuess of the ocea- sion seemed to vanish in the overwhelming rapture tha: marked the entrance of Lee. The spacious hail was filled to the utmost with men who had followed his standard, aod for once the claims of the material world passed ont of memory in the ecstatic homa~e bestowed upon the man whom all adored.” A LOVER OF NATURE. General Lee found in communion with nature the sympathy and strengthening which less reserved and self-contained char- acters ask of their fellow-men. Ina letter to his wife written in their early married life he says: “In the woods I feel sym- pathy with trees and birds in whose com- pany I take delight, but experience no in- terest in a strange crowd.’ Again be writes in December, 1856, from Fort Brown, Tex. : “I rarely see any one outside the garrison. My daily walks are alone up and down the banks of the river, and my pleasure is derived from my own thoughts and from the sight of the flowers and animals I there meet with. The birds of the Rio Grande form a constant source of interest and are as numerous as they are beantifal in plomage. I wish I could get for you the roots of some of the luxuriant vines that cover everything, or the seeds of the innomerable flowers.”” The letter is full of tender yearning for the home fire. side at Arlington and the companionship of wife and children. From Fort Hamilton, in 1846, he writes daring the absence of his wife and chil- dren : “I am very solitary and my only company is my dog and cats, bat Spec has become 80 jealous new that hie will badly let me look at the cats.” Professor Milton W. Humphreys, who succeeded Professor Gildersieeve in the chair of Greek at the University of Vir- ginia, writes : ‘*When a man has hecome famous there is usually a feeling of disappointment when we first form his acquaintance, and the near approach removes much of the en- chavtment. We think, ‘Why he is only a man.” But in this case my experience was just the reverse. Before the introduction I felt no trepidation, but as the conversa- tion proceeded I began to feel embarrassed, and the feeling grew steadily. When the interview was over General Lee seemed farther removed, less human—I might say more suaperhuman—than he did before, and every subsequbnt interview intensified that feeling. General Washington aleo is said to have thie characteristic, and I do not know whether any one has ever offered a satisfactory explavation in either case. ——He—*"Why do we do the meanest and most hateful things to those we love the best?" She—''I presume it is because no one else would stand it. ~Guoner—‘‘Do the automobiles in London have the same kind of horns as those over here?" Guyer—''Oh, no. In London they have fog horns.” — “I'1] be as steadfast as steel,’”’ mur mured the beautiful girl. “Common or preferred?’ inquired the young broker, ahsently. —— Subscribe for the WATCEMAN. Points About Needles. One peedle is a pretty small item, but the daily consumption of something like 3,000,000 needles all over the werld makes a pretty big total. Every year the women of the United States break, lose, and use about 3,000,000,000 of these little instra- ments, . Our needles are the finished products of American ingenuity, skill and workmwan- ship, and yet how many people, threading a needle or taking a stitch, have ever given a thought to the various processes through which the wire must pass ere it coms out a needle? The manufacture of a single veedle includes some twenty-one or twenty- two different processes, as follows: Cut- ting the wire into lengths; straightening, by rubbing while heated ; pointing the ends on grindstones; stamping impression for the eyes; grooving; eying, the eye being pierced by screw presses; splitting, thread- ing the double needle by the eyes on short lengths of fine wire; filing, removing the ‘‘cheek’’ lefs on each side of the eye by stamping; breaking, separating the two needles on the one length of wire; heading, | beads filed and smoothed to remove the burr left by stamping and breakiog; bard- eniog in oil, the needle is thus made brit- tle; tempering; picking, separating those crooked in hardening; straightening the crooked ones; scouring and polishing; blu- ing, softening the eyes by heat; drilling or cleaning out the sides of the eye; head- grinding; point setting, or the final sbharp- ening; final polishing; then papering, and | finally, labeling. For wrapping, purple paper is used, because it prevents rusting. There are many sorts and kinds of need- les: First, there is the surgeon’s grew- some outfit—the probing needle made for tracking bullets or bidden cavities of pus; the hairpin needle, the long pios for pin- ning open wounds,the post-mortem needle of curious pattern. Some of these little instruments are thin, some are thick; others are long and straight; again, curve once, twice or three times. The veterinary surgeon has his special outfit also. The cook’s needles are wonderfuolly, fearfully made. His larding needle is used to sew large pieces of meat together. The truss- ing veedie is made on purpose to insert melted butter or sance right into the vitals of a Christmas turkey. It is hollow, and has a large opening into which the sauce is poured. Nor less interesting are the needles which the upholsterer uses. Some are half curved, and some have round points, He has needles with curious eves —long, round, egg, and counter-snnk eyes; the same kinds of needles are used hy collar-makers. Then there are the deli- cate needles used by wig makers, glove makers, and weavers; these are often as fine as a hair. The glove needles are splen- did specimens of skillful workmanship; the finest of them have three-cornered points. The great sail needle, which has to be pushed with a steel palm, would puzzle most people; so, too, the bhroom- maker's needle, which must also be pushed with a steel palm. The curious knitting machine needle, with its latchet; the ar- rasene and brewel needles, and the needle for sherring machines; the weaver’s pin for picking np broken threads, with an open eve in the hook, The long instrument used by milliners, the needle of the rag- baler, the knife point ham needle used in the stock yards, the astrakhan needle— these and other varieties do not call for special notice. The needle, as we see it to-day, is the envolved product of centuries of invention. In its primitive form it was made of hone, ivory, or wood. The making of Spanish needles was introduced into England dar: ing the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Point hy point the manufacture has improved, until the little instrument is one of the highly finished products of nineteenth century machivery and skill. Penry's Fight With Ice. On the evening of September 16, writes Commander R. E. Peary, in Harper's Mag- azine, with the turn of the floodtide, a large floe pivoted around Cape Sheridan, crushing everything before it, until at last it held the ship mercilessly between its own blue side an} the unyielding face of the ice-foos. Itsslow, restless motion was frightful, yet fascinating: thousands of tons of smaller ice which the big floe drove be- fore is the Roosevelt bad easily and grace- fully turned under ber sloping bilges, but the edge of the big floe rose to the plank- sheer, and a few yards back from its edge was an old pressure ridge which rose high- er thao the bridge-deck. For an instant, which seemed an age, the pressure was terrific; the Roosevelt's ribs and interior bracing cracked like the discharge of musketry. The main deck amidships bulged up several inches, the main-rigging bung slack, and the masts and rigging shook as in a violent gale; then, witha mighty tremor and a sound which reminded me of an athlete in taking his breath for a supreme effort, the ship jomped upward. The big floe snapped against the edge of the ice-foot forward and aft and under us, crumpling up its edge and driving it inshore some yards, then came to rest, and the commotion was tra»s- ferred to the outer edge of the floe, which crombled away with a dull roar as other floes smashed against it and tore off great pieces in their onward rush- leaving us stranded but safe. This incident, of course put an end to all thoughts of farther ad- vance, and to provide against the contin. geney of a still more serious pressure ren- dering the ship nntenable, all supplies and equipment, together with a considerable quanity of coal, were landed, officers and crew and Eskimos, including the women and children, working almost without in- terruption for the next thirty-six hours. Our Teeth Growing Worse. It is sometimes candidly pointed out by the dentists that in spite of all the re- sources of their science the teeth of the Anglo-Saxon race are growing worse from generation to generation. If there is any uo cause for this it is all the more necessary that the teeth of school children should be looked alter, and probably there is much to be said for rate-aided supervision as for rate aided meals. Some attempt is being made in Germany to carry out this kind of examination, and a consular report from Frankfort gives some s ve figures of an examination of the teeth of 1020 children whose teeth were examined at Hooheide. There were 482 hoys and 538 girls. The boys had 12,826 defective teeth and only 2116 sound ones. Only niveteen boys had y sound sets of teeth. Of the teeth of she girls 15,747 were defective and only 931 sound. Only six- teen girls bad perfect sets of teeth; 203 girls were suffering in their general condi- tion in consequence of decayed teeth. The total result showed that ninety I= cent. of all the teeth examined were defective; only thirty-five out of 1020 children bad sound sets of teeth. Iu 396 children a poor bodily constitution was due to poor teeth. i o— When King Edwsad Travels. Going north, His Majesty always travels at night, eays Chambers’ Journal, appropos of the journeys of King Edward. raloon and sleeping berth are lighted by electnioi- ty. Between each carriage and the guard’s van there is electrical communication, in addition toa ¢ cord placing the guard and the driver instantly in communication. Io a carriage in the rear of the train rides one of the principal officers of the company and the carriage superintendent. y are in command of a full complement of artificers, ready to meet every ove of the almost impossible emergencies that might arise on the jealously-guarded journey. A lookout man stands on the engine ten- der. Differing from the lookout man on board a ship, be torns his back to the ap- proaching prospect, keeping watch toward the rear of the train, ready to note any sig- nal that may be given. There are two guards, one in the front van and one in the rear. I$ would be supposed that with all these precautions, and others yet to be de- scribed, the royal train might be left to make its own way. That is not the view taken by those responsible for the King's safety. Fifteen minutes in advance of the royal train rouos a pilot engine. If there be any danger in the way it will hear the brunt, and timely warning will be given. A per- son of fertile, not to say criminal, imag- ination, might suppose that, accidentally or designedly, the rail could be blocked within the space marked hy the passage of the pilot engine and the arrival of the roy- al train. This would be found impossible. The intervening space, at distances nos ex- ceeding a quarter of a mile, is guarded by a line of platelayers provided with hand signals and detonators. Each ou his beat carefully examines the line before the roy- al train approaches. By an exaggeration of caution, the ob- ject of which is not immediately apparent, every man must remain at his post ten minutes after the royal train, flashing by, has disappeared in the murk of the bight. Each keeps within sight of his fellow on the right hand and on the left. So they streteb, a living line of the prime of British workmen, a!l the way from Satton Sta- tion to Ballater, in the far-off highlands. Even these elaborate precautions do not satisfy the anxiety of royalty’s guardians. It will be seen that the line on which the King travels is kept under surveillance for at least ten miles ahead, the distance at which the pilot engine leads the way. But there is the possibility that a train passing southward as the King journeys northward may break down within the limit of this jealously-guarded ten miles and obstruct the parallel line. The contingency is met by a simple peremptory ediot. The up-rail of the down parallel with that on which the King’s train runs is tem- porarily devastated of traffic, not only at the actual hour that the royal train will pass, but fora precedent interval. For thirty minutes before it is doe to pass a given point no engine, train or vehicle is allowed to proceed along or across the line. Heavy traflic is temporarily paralyzed, it being decreed that for a similar period all shunting operatiors on lines adjoining the main road must be snepended. When in the early days of Queen Vie- toria’s journeys to Scotland, these rules were drawn up, it was ordered that no trains or engines might be allowed to travel hetween ary two stations from the time the pilot engine was due until the royal train had passed—that is to say, for a per. iod of fifteen minutes. This regulation proved a little too drastic even for so royal a body of men as those who sit at the board of railway direction. The order was modi- fied by an exception in favor of passenger trains and of fish trains, with respect to which a special arrangement is made for rapid unloading at the terminal. Ohvions- ly it weuld be a serious thing for a train laden with cod and soles to be pulled np for a bad quarter of an hour, while Bil- lingsgate, only partially succeeding in wol- lifying the language of its commentary, was waiting for the contents, German Soldiers in America. The Trosdel Markes is on a little island in the heart of the old town of Nuremberg. Along the north hranch of the river is an old, low-eaved house with a little darkling doorway. When yon have got so far you are mes by a little old man—a rusty little man who looks as though he were made of metal—who leads youn into the great mys- terious warehouse of toys. ‘Round all the walls they are ranged —guns, cannons, mo- tors, steamships, trumpets, sabers; and every where the soldiers, How many mil- lions of metal soldiers have marched away from the Troedel Market not even the rusty old man could tell yon—mighty armies of pewter and tin. Hundreds of regiments, cf hattalions, of divisions are drawn up on the shelves, waiting for the day when they shall be rent out into battle. And with a kind of pride the rusty old man says: “They are Edifying Soldiers.” That ia the German way of putting it. What it means is that each army illustrates a battle or a campaign—the war of Troy, the ca npaigns of Alexander, the exploits of Carur de Lion, the war of Thirty Years, the siege of Orleans, the victories of Napo- leon, the battles of 1870, and (the one I liked best) that desperate battle in which a tiny tin hero with gleaming teeth rongh- rode it up San Juan Hill. Ina word, the Edifying Soldiers teach history, geography, strategy. The soldiers are sold by the hundred- weight, he says, and last year nearly fifty thonsand quintals were sent into the Uni- ted States. A pound box, which contains abous one hundred and fifty pieces—in- fantry, cavalry, artillery, with such ac- ceseories as trees, bastions, camps, the wounded soldiers and the dead—you may buy yonder in the Troedel Market for sixty cents. As every one knows, there are two kinds of toy soldier—those stamped out of flat metal and the finer kind made in molds. Modern machinery—as yon may see in the great factories outside the city walls—has stripped the of romance. The only hand-work is paintiog of the little figures, which is done by women and irls.—Vance Thompson, in the Christmas re yiols s. —The farm which is well fed will feed the farmer. It must be applied to the stock as well as to the land, and by feed- ine the stock well the land may be fed with the greatest accuracy, and so the cir- ole of feeding be made complete. —Cows will founder the same as will horses from being overfed by some foods that cannot readily be digested, and will show the characteristic lameness which re- sults in horses when they are overfed with anything. ——His Married Granddaughter (in 1973) —*‘Oh, gradi pa, ie it possible! You surely don’t remember when 200th street was congidered uptown!” v
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers