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