SR II ——— Benoora fd Bellefonte, Pa., March 8, 1907. THE BIRTH OF THE OPAL. The sumbeam loved the moonbeam, And followed her low and high, And the moonbeam fled and hid her h2ad, She was so shy, soshy. The sunbeam wooed with passion— Ah! he was a lover bold— And his heart was afire with desire, For the moeonbeam pale and cold, But she fled like s dream before him, Her hair was a shining sheen; And oh, that face would annihilate The space that lay between! Just as the day lay panting In the arms of the twilight dim, The sunbeam caught the one he sought, And drew her elose to him. Out of his warm arm startled, And stirred by love's first shock, She sprang, afraid, like a trembling maid Aud hid in the niche of a rock, Aud the sunbeam followed and found her And led her to love's own feast; And they were wed on that rocky bed And the dying day was their priest, And lo! the leautiful opal, That rare and wondrous gem, Where the moon and the sun blend into one Is the child that was horn to them. WELLINGTON'S GIRL. Rainey, the news editor, went to Blake, the managing editor, with a telegram. “Wellington wires to kuow if he can’t have his vacation now,” said Rainey. ‘‘He wants to stop over at Newton on his way home.”’ “Tell him,” instructed Blake, ‘‘that any vacation he takes now will be made per- manent. We're short-handed, and we want him back bere in a hurry. He ought to have started last night.” Rainey went back to his desk and an- swered the telegram as direcved. Wellington had been sent out on an im- portant story, which he had handled sue- cessfully, and lie should have been on his way home. Instead, he was still some han- dreds of miles away, and he showed no dis- position to return. Rainey went to Blake again a little later with another telegram. ‘‘Wellington wants to stop over Satur- day and Sanday at Newton,” he said. “No!” thundered Blake. ‘‘He's lost one day already, and we need more men than we have right now—especially good men. I can keep Wellington humping every minute, We ought to have him on that bribery story. What is there at New- ton, anyhow, that makes it 20 interest- ing 2" “Wellington's girl, 1 believe,” replied Rainey. ‘Ob, that's it, is it 2’ exclaimed Blake, with a laogh. “Well, we're running a newspaper and not a matrimonial bureau. Tell him to get back here on the first train.’ Blake was not really as bard hearted as this might seem to indicate. If the circom- stances been favorable he would have given Wellington his vacation at once, but the circomstances were not favorable, and he reasoned that the paper needed Welling- ton at that particular time more than the girl did. [t might seem hard fora man whose girl lived so far away to bave to pass through her town without stopping | a over to see her, but it happened to he business necessity in this case. So he was decidedly angry when the third telegram came. “Wellington says he's going to stop at Newton,’’ Rainey announced. ‘‘Fiire him by wire!" instructed Blake angrily. “Can’t,” returned Rainey. ‘‘He said he was leaving for Newton when he wired last, and he gave no Newton address. May not be at a hotel, and we couldn't pick oat the right one anyhow.’ *“What's the girl’s name ?"’ “Don’t know.” “What a devil of a lot of tronble women | make I"’ growled Blake. “I'll see that a letter of discharge is on his desk when he gets back, and that the reason is clearly stated.” The letter was written and put on Wel- lington’s desk, and thereupon Wellington hecame a negligible quantity so far as the ‘‘Express’’ was concerned. He was cousid- ered no longer a member of the staff when a startling Associated Press buolletin was | received the next day. There were others who could baudle big stories quite as well, | if not better, and this was so big that the slighting of less important matters never would be noticed. The bulletin read : ‘“‘Clondbarst in the mountains. Town of Highwood destroyed. Through passenger train in Highwood depot lost. Wires down and tracks washed ont. No word since last night, except story of one balf dead survivor who has just got through.” Blake jumped for an atlas and a time- table, and Rainey and the sae editor lean- ed over him as he looked up Highwood. *‘Can’t get any one there from here be- fore tomorrow,’ he announced, ‘‘hut it's more than a single-day story.’ Then to the city editor : ‘‘Start three men and an artist, Brown. Tell them to be there to- morrow morning, if it's n to buy the road to get through. Rainey and I will figure out to-day 's story.’’ The city editor hurried back to his desk, aod Blake tarned to the map again. ‘‘It’s an awkward place to reach,’’ he said. ‘'We baven’s a first-class correspon- dent within striking distance, and we've got to have our own story. Associated Press alone Wowk do.” His index finger, passing over the map, stopped at one town and then another,and he read off the names. *‘Tell our correspondents there to try to get through. One of them may make it, and —Hold on a minute ! Here's Newton, only sixty miles away ! Lord! we've just got to get hold of Wellington ! Wire im, Raivey, and then try the long-distance phone. They may know him at one office or the other. Why the devil didn’t he mention his girl's name ?”’ ; While Rainey was doing this, Blake tried to for a report ina more round- about way, but Svely other id seemed to be eacing his difficulty in getting men to the spot, and there was no certainty of anything. Nor was Rainey more suc- cessfal in effort to locate Wellington. They kuew nothing about him at the tele- phone exchange, and the telegram was re- ported undelivered. There is nothing more aggravating, no greater strain on the nerves, i with an attempt to get the elusive details of a difffoult story. Blake and Rainey worked over it indefatigably, taxing their ingenuity to the utmost, trying to arrange with papers nearer the scene, but there was no assurance of a satisfactory report. So it naturally bappened that Blake was in no amiable mood when he was fioally notified that Newton wanted him on the long-dis- tance. “Wellington at last !”’ he exclaimed. But it was a feminine voice that came to him over the wire. “Do you want Mr. Wellington 7’ asked the voice, and it was a very pleasant voice, although Blake was too excited to think of that then “Do I want—"' He broke off short and demanded sharply. ‘‘Where is he ?"’ “I thought you did,’’ said the voice. *‘I heard a messenger was hunting for him wilh a telegram, so I got the telegram and | opened it. Then they told me you'd heen | telephoning, too, and I thought—'’ *‘Are you Wellington's girl ?"’ Blake blurted out thougbtlessly, and he heard a gasp at the other end of the wire. ““Why—why, yes, I believe I am,’ came the hesitating reply. ‘‘Well, ges him to the telephone quick,’’ “I can’t; he isn’t here.’’ { ‘*Not there ! Oh—'' Blake remembered | that he was talking to a woman just in time to chop off the last word. , “No,” taid Wellington's girl, ‘‘he isn’t | here. He left for Highwood on the first | relief train this morning—ran right away + from me when I badn’t seen him for—"' | ‘Gove to Highwood !" cried Blake. “Oh, good old Wellington !"’ “Yes, he took three men with him.” “Great old Wellington !"’ was all Blake ! could ray. | “*And a photographer.’’ 1 “Bully old Wellington !"" cried Blake. “But he isn’t old !"” protested the girl, aggrieved. **He’s anything you want to have him,” returned Blake gallantly. **And he ran away from me," complain- ed the girl. “I'll give von a bill-of-sale of him when he gets back !"’ cried the jubilant Blake, ed. “Bulletins !"” repeated Blake. We want every line we can get.” you like,” she said. and took her bulletins, repeating them toa reporter who wrote them out, *‘She’s a prize!” terthought, Wellington knew that he was making | trouble for himsell when he stepped over | at Newton, hut be did not believe it to | a8 serious a matter as Blake was disposed | to make it, and besides he wanted to brip | the girl back with him, | lute certainty that he could do this on such | short notice, but he thought a vacation at that time wonld give him a fair obance of success, avd even two days might enable him to reach a mere definite and satisfac- tory nnderstanding. So he took the risk and disobeyed orders. ‘‘Blake,”” he told her, ‘‘must be mad enough to tear the paper off the wall, bat I just had to stop over and eee you.” “Ot course,”’ she said, as if it were a matter that admitted of no argument. “Who is Blake 2’ ‘‘He’s the managing editor. He said 1 coalun’t stop over.” ‘‘How ridiculous of him !" she com- mented. ‘Isn't it?'’ he langhed. ‘‘He’'ll be pretty warm, but I guess I can explain it | all right when I get back." | “I'd like to tell him what I think of him," she said. “I'd like to have you,”’ he assured her | with cheerful mendacity. *‘That’s why I want to take you back with me.” ‘Take me back with you ! In twe days!” *‘Of course. It's just as easy to he mar- ried in two days as itis in two weeks or two months or two years.’’ “I never said I'd marry you,’ she pro- tested. “I know it,” he admitted calmly, ‘but you never said you wonldn’s.” “That's vo; I never did,”’ she returned thonghtfally. marry you, hat there are a whole lot of other people I never said I wonldn’t marry, too.” ‘Tue others don’t count,’ he asserted. “They baven’t been writing to you and dreaming about you and disobeying their managing editors to see you. I ought to be rewarded, you know.”’ “Bat two days !”’ The form of this protest seemed to him to seitle the main question. “Call it two weeks,”’ he urged. “I'll resign and stay over, if necessary." ‘No, no,’" she said, shaking he: head | energetically. | “Two months," he persisted. ‘I'll get | my vacation and come back." | “Perbaps,”’ she conceded. ‘‘I won't I must have time to think.” { “Think!” he exclaimed. ‘‘What have | you been doing all the sime I've been think- | ing and hoping aud writing and trying to | get to see you ?"’ | dora answered the inconsistent | girl. | **Of what?" “Well,” she replied evasively, *'I hadn’t got as far ava wedding day.” He interpreted this so satisfactorily that his arms just naturally appropriated her. “‘But yon will now,” he declared con- fidently. ‘“Can’t I bave a little time to think, it I want it?" she asked, with another be- wildering change of wauner and tone ‘I don’t want to be hurried. Les’s talk of something else.”’ Wellington never had been so foolish as to think that he fally understood girls, but be had thought he knew a little bit about Shis one, aud he i the more Bewildered n uence. began to talk lightly and Srigatly of other things, and he bad to make the best of it, He was in this perplexed state of mind when the news of the cioudburst came. Instantly, the newspaper instinct became dominauvt, and all else was momentarily forgotten. His eyes sparkled, his mind was alert, he was considering all the possi- bilities before be folly realized it.* The tracks were gone, the wires were down, the place was isolated ; it would be difficult to get men there from anywhere, and he was certainly the nearest upon whom his office could rely. A train would take him part way, and he on foot. | promise, could push on with horses or “That's my story !” he announced jubi- lantly. A newspaper man thinks only of the story as an opportunity, never as a hor- ror “Bat you're not going to ran away from me,” she . “Why, yon've hard- Rae ty ut “It's my story, as ee os} y ning a wondering whether he could get any local nee. “I won't let you go !"’ she declared. “Won't let me go!” he exslaimed. “1 never said I wouldn’s | | pick up a photographer on the way to the “Do you want any bulietins ?’ she ask- | the way, and he gave all possible attention i “Say ! | miles from Highwood they had to leave you're a newspaper man’s girl all right. | the train. One wire was working that far, i “I'll tell you all that's known here, if { evening. But the facilities were already i Blake himself remained at the telephone | the men from the nearer towns. { i i | he exclaimed as he | Conditions, he was told, were a¢ bad or | finally got up from the telephone desk. worse on the other side of Highwood, and ‘‘She’s the best ever! Tear up that note | there was practically no chance for a uearer on Wellington's desk,’ he added as an af- | available wire that day. The linemen were | slow, and as yet they were only extending | i | lucky to get a thousand words through.” spot—almost. No one else from the office You don’t want me to fall down on the chance of a lifetime, do you ? Yon don’t want me to shirk ! This is a big thing !”” His enthusiasm was infectious, and she began to feel something of the thrill of it. “I couldn’t keep away from it if I tried. And, perhaps, you can help.’ | ““What can I do ?"’ she asked. He was planning, speculating, consid- ering all the possibilities as he talked. “I don’t know what the conditions will | be around there,”” he explained, speaking | rapidly. “I may have to come back here | to get wires. I may want typewriters who | can take from dictation on the machiue. | I'll be late and in a horry, you know. I'll telegraph or telephone—to youn.” “Will you really ?”’ Her eyes sparkled at the suggestion thatshe might bave her share in the work and excitement. “I shall be ready, aud I'll look out for bul- | letine.”’ : ‘‘Bulletins ! Well, you certainly are a newspaper man’s girl,”’ he laughed. “Do your best !"”" she urged, and she kissed him. She certainly was a puzzling girl. Only a moment before she had de- murred to his going, and now she was gis- ing bim most surprising and delightful en- couragement. Kittie's brother, Jack, was wil to go. He was a oollege boy, bright and quick, and be eaid he could get another youth who had some newspaper experience. “‘Get him!" instrncted Wellington. ‘“Take a carriage and hustle ! Ili try to station. But don’t miss the train.’’ Jack appeared at the station with two assistauts, so the party, with the photog- rapher, numbered five. Throughout all the excitement of that | day the question of a wire was uppermost in Wellington’s mind. Of what use was even the most perfect story, if he could not get it to the office ? He made inquiries on to conditions along the road. Eight or ten and he was told there might be a second by overtaxed by official relief business and From this point they pushed on hy wag- ou, waking the last two miles on foot. pushing on, but the work was dificult and “Why, Kittie, it’s my story ; I'm on the | | forgetting that he had heen consigning him the wire already in use, which would add nothing to the facilities, even if they gos it | working to a nearer point hy evening. These were the conditions that Welling. BR Juve | toh kept in mind as he directed the work | of his little force. ‘Copy’ was prepared | as opportunity offered, a box or a board or | one’s own knee serving as desk, but the | problem of ‘‘the wire’ was ev.r present. One man was sent back early, to try to get the story started. Later, the others fol- lewed, and found the temporary telegraph office in a state of siege. “No chance here for what we've got,’ was Wellington's decision. “We'd be Their horses were pretty well winded, for, at the risk of life,they had come down the mountain road on the run. It was time that counted now—time and a wire; they had the story. They pushed on through the darkness to another station, where they hoped to find better facilities, but there were only three wires here. The Associated Press had one, the second was the wire in use from the station they had just left, and local men bad been ahead of them with the third. “It’s Newton for us !"’ exclaimed Wel- lington. ‘We can get wires there.” “‘No train,’ said the station agent, when approached. ‘‘May be oue later, but it's uncertain.’ *‘Give us an engine !"’ said Wellington. *‘Can’t, without orders,” returned the agent. ‘‘You’ve got to !"’ insisted Wellington. ‘‘You’ve got a railroad wire open. Wire headquarters that the ‘Express’ wants an engine to Newton.” *‘Well, I guess not,’’ was the reply. “I think too much of my job to hother ’em that way at a time like this.” “I'll telegraph !'’ threatened Welling- ton. ‘A telegram to your superintendent will bave to go through, and I'll wire him that you refuse an engine to Newton for the ‘Express.’ ‘‘Hold on !" cried the station agent, as Wellington began to write his message. “I'll wire him myself.” ‘‘And put a private message through to Newton for me.” “No, sir!” replied the station agent vigorously. ‘‘Nothing but railroad busi- ness on that wire.”’ “All right,” 3) uted Wellington. “Get the engine !"* He hurried back to the telegraph office and fought his way to the desk. ‘‘Ove word to Newton,’’ he plead- ed; ‘‘just one word ! Sandwich it in any- where !"’ There was instant ontery and protest. He must take his turn, which would mean that bis one word te Newton would get through some time the next day. But he insisted and argued and pledged and offer- ed money. One of the wires in operation was working through Newton, and a word could be sandwiched in withont appreciable delay. He won bis point finally, and sent the single word “*Coming’’ to Kittie. There was a protest that this was no time for love messages, but he insisted that this was strictly business. And it was. *‘It’s the best I can do,’’ he confided to Jack. “‘It will be nearly midnight before we get there, and we'll want wires and typewriters. I hope she'll understand.” ““You get your engine, and the track’s clear !"’ the station agent called out. In the office of the ‘Express’ there was anxiety and excitement. Fragmentary re- ports of the clondburst they had, but there was 0o complete story and not a line of ‘‘special’’ except what bad been secured from surronnding towns. No word of an sort had come from Wellington. How m or how little of the Associated Press report they would want to use was still uncertain. ons were made to rely on it en- tirely, il neceseary, and much of it had been put in type. An emergency intro. duction, with the fragmentary reports re. ceived as a basis, had been written in the office. Blake himself was nervous apd anxious when the hour hand of the clock sli past eleven, A, the wirés clogged and working badly, he can’t get much of a story in now anyhow,” grumbled Blake. ‘‘We'll have to go ahead without him.”’ At 11:30 he gave instructions to use the emergency introduction; at 11:40 be was calling Wellington names and swearing at everybody in the office; at 11:50— “‘Newton looping into the office I’ one of the telegraph operators called ont. ‘Newton !"” roared Blake. ‘“What the devil does Newton want?" “Wellington must have got back there,” suggested Raivey. “Newton looping in on a second wire— | on a third I” called the chief operator. | “Well 's story coming on four wires!" A thrill went through the office, the more pronounced becanse of the long, anxious wait, and every mau nerved him- self for the race against time in getting this story into she paper. *‘Good old Wellington !"’ sighed Blake, 30 the perpetual furnace a few minutes he- ore. ‘Newton on the long-distance !I"”’ came | the cry from the next room, and Blake hur i ried there. ‘It's a girl and she wants you,’ said the | city editor. | “Wellington's girl !"" exclaimed Blake. | “Hello,” said the girl ; “‘is it coming ¥"’ ““On tour wires," said the jubilant Blake. “That's me,” said the girl, proudly hat | ungrammaticaily. | “What !"’ ! “I got the wires myself, and went for | the extra operators with a carriage.’ “Good old Wellington's girl I" com- mended Blake, that being his favorite form of commendation. “*And I had the typewriters ready. it's all heen splendidly improper.’ “Bally old Wellington's girl !"" said Blake. “Don’t talk like that !"* said tue gir! sharply, *‘or I won't uive von the fast mail story.” “What's that!" “Mr. Wellington said you'd want some things for the fast wail edition that wouldn’t get through in time. He made notes of them, coming in on the engine, a mile a minote. You ought to see him ! He's black and dirty and torn and muddy and wet and—and—splendid.”’ *‘Never mind that now." ‘“He couldn’t call yor up, hecause he’s dictating,” the girl persisted. ‘“The pic- tures go by mail.”’ “Yes, yes, I know.” He turned from the telephone a moment. “Two men here, quick ! Take notes an this by relays and write it out on a split second schedule.” Then to the girl : ‘What I"! “Give me the fast mail story.’ “Ob, ves," Reading from the notes before her, she gave him the facts, even sopplementing them with details that she caught as Wel- lington and the others dictated to type- writers, *‘Tell Wellington to call me up when Lis Oh, “Let ber slide !"* story's finished,’’ said Blake wken ber work was done. “All right,” she replied. ‘‘But—ob, | Mr. Blake!” ! Yes." “I don’t want jou to think this is so | dreadfully improper. My brother's here, i yvoa know.” | Blake laughed. To think of chaperonage | at such a moment seemed to him amusing and delightfally feminine. He liked the girl; she had feminine incousistencies and vagaries, bat she could do things. He told Wellington so when the latter called him up. “Bring her back with you.’ he said. “She won’t come,” replied Wellington, whereat the girl, who could hear this end of the conversation, gave a quick little gasp of comprehension. “Won't come !"" iepeated Blake. ‘Yon stay there at office expense until you get ber. She's a mascot ! Won't come ! Huh ! Don’t you believe it | Why, she told me over the telephone that she was your girl — yours, mind you ! Jost remember that if she tries to bloff you.” “Did she really say that?’ asked Wel. lington joyfully, whereat the girl tried to think what she had said and remembered. She backed into a corner when he hung up the receiver and turned toward her. He followed. “Yes, yes, I'll go,” she said, weakly sor- rendering. ‘You hear, Jack!” exclaimed Welling- ton. ‘“‘You're going to lose a sister, and I'm going to take a wile back to town.” But Jack, worn out, was peacefully sleeping on a table.—Elliott Flower in Col- lier's. Maple Sugar Season Near. Very shortly the sap in the sugar maple tree will stars up through the fibres of the trees, the farmer will prepare for the sugar making industry, and a week later fresh maple sugar and syrup will be used on thousands of tables over the western oonti- vent. The maple sugar industry is confined to practically three states, although 23 states reported making sugar last year. Pennsyl- vavnia, New York and Vermont claim to make 80 per cent of the total manufactur- ed in the United States. Over 12,000,000 pounds were made last year, which seems enormous, but nothing to be compared with the consumption, as a spurious article can be booght oftener than the genuine. The makiog of maple syrup aud sugar has lost much of its primitiveness. Many years ago it was manufactured by the far- mer for his own use. Maple sugar was made at an early date in New England. It may have been the uot of ‘‘necessity,’’ or an inheritance from: the Indians, al- though maple trees grow in China, Japan, Canada and all northern countries, Ameri- ca alone baving 100 varieties of maple, but only one of the sugar maple. The Indians bad a spring “sugar making moon,’ but history does not specify wheth- er they used it to good advantage or not. The old methods were crude and ruined the trees, which are now nourished, and the last to be cut. The was formerly caught in troughs, carted to kettles hung over roaring wood fires; and then boiled to sugar. Recent apparatus has enabled manu- facturers to make the sugar as nearly white as common beet or cane sugar. The old sugar kettles are now curiosities, and one | has captured from Gen. Burgoyne at the battle of Saratoga, is preserved at the Bennington Battle monument as a curiosity. The maple sugar eeason comes at a time of the year when the farmer bas little else to do. It is still considered a social event in many neighborhoods, young and old alike gathering for the ‘‘hoiling down’’ and the making of ‘‘spota.”” A good run in a season will net the farmer three pounds of pure sugar toa tree if the weath- er conditions are just fair. In some sec- tions nothing but maple sugar is used and uot a pound of white gets into a household. Everything is flavored with the fragrant magle. In some sections of Somerset and Cambria counties and in Allegheny county, Maryland, ‘camps’ of 2,000 trees are not unknown, and many trees accommodate as many as three keelers. As the years roll by it is one of the best sources of income to the farmer, this maple sugar making. Haven't seen Brown for years. Is he doing well?” “Immersed in business, he telis me. Literally up to his neck in it.” ‘“What's he doing?" ‘‘He’s a teacher in a swimming bath.” ——What man is so like a duck? The ‘ ‘quack. " THE REAL SIMPLE LIFE My name is unsritten, My name is unsung In fact, | am only A Little Girl's Tongue. You've heard of how busy Ix Sir Bumble-bee Well, "twould make you quite dizzy To hear all of me, I work in the morning Ere breakfasts begun I work every meal time Not missing a one. 1 work during school hours And the time meant for piay And even at midnight And then people say, That my mistress has nightmare Well, this I suppose Is the Stenuous Life Which is some people's pos. If 1 have My say (Andit's seldom [ can.) The real Simple Li‘ Will be my next plan’ — Este Farnisn, Herculaneum, Most people imagine that Herculaneum, baried by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 A. D., bas been as carefully and complete- ly excavated as its neighbor, Pompeii, but this i2 not so. It lies nearer to Naples, and its site was the sooner covered with houses. Two or more villages now stand above it, or rather above the hardened mud seventy 1 | Effect of Duration of Stress Strength and Stiffacss In Wood. Is has been established thata wooden | beam which for a short period will sustain | safely a certain load, way break eventual- i Iy if the load remains. For instance. wood- en beams have been known to hreak after fifteen mouths nuder a constant load of but ‘sixty per cent. of that required to break | thew ia au ordinary shorttest. There is but | little definite and systematic knowledge | of the influence of the time element on the | behavior of wood under stress. This rela- | tion of the duration of the stress to the | strength and stiffness of wood is now being | studied by the Forest Service of the United | States Department of Agriculture at its | timber-testing stations at Yale and Purdue | universities. The effect of impact load or | sudden shock; the effect of different speeds | of the testing machine used in the ordinary | tests of timber under gradually increasing | load ;aud the effect of long-coutinued vibra- | tion. { To determine the effect of constant load on the strength of wood, a special appara- tus has been devised by which tests on a series of five beams way be carried on simultaneously. These beams are 2 by 2 inches iu length, eacl: under a different load. Their deflections and breaking points are automatically recorded upon a drom which requires thirty days for one rota- tion. The results of these tests extending over long periods of time may he compared with those ou ordinary testing machines, avd in this way sale constants, or “‘dead”’ loads, for certain timbers may he deter- wived as to breaking strength or limited deflections. feet below which sleeps the little Graeco- Samuite town. When the caoriosity of the | eighteenth century started to ex- | plore and to dig through this mud bonuses | were already in existence above the t.ench- | es and tupuvels then cat, aud the excavators | bad to go with cantion, and eventually to be contented with a very partial exeention of their task. Indeed, one corner merely | of the city was dugout, avd then the mat- tar was left for want of funds and for fear | of trouble with the owners of the soil | above. Little was done in the nineteeth | centary; and while excavation has been | busy in other parts of the classical lands, | and its neighbor, more happily situated for | the explorer, has been revealed in its en. | tirety, nothing has been added to the knowledge of Herculaneum. | Hercunlanenm was not so much smother. i ed as overflowed by wave on wave of mud | that preserved things by covering them up before cinders aud seorime had time to set | anything alight. The town itself was in. habited, there is reason tn believe, by a | more cultivated clas¢ of people thao the | pleasure seekers of Pompeii, whose one | anxiety, as their inseriptions prove, was | that gladiators might he many and sport | good. ‘The paintings and sculptures thas | have heen recovered from Herculaneum are | of greater artistic value; and, to pus the | matter beyond question, while Pompeii hae not yielded a single manuscript, the one house in Herculaneum that bas been thoroughly explored contained numerous rolls of papyri. Unfortunately, the house belonged to a wan who specialized in Epi. ourean philosophy, for the rolls were all! works of philosophers of this school. Bat the houses in Herculaneum are numerous, and it is agaivst all reason to suppose that they were all inhabited by students of Epi- | curus and his doctrines. Under the mud waves there may lie the lyric poets of Greece, whose loss makes, per- haps, the worst gap in all ancient litera- tare. Sappho, Alcweus, Simonides -— the critics speak of them, but they are bardly more than names. There also may he the lost writers of tragedy, such as Phrynichus, whose songs, so Aristophanes tells us, the veterans of Marathon hummed as they went through the streets at night, and of the Old Comedy, the rivals of Aristophanes himelf, Cratinus and Ameipsias. There, too, may lie the writers of the New Come- dy, whose loss the ancient critics would have accounted as the worst we bave suf- fered. Nor are the poets the only writers men would wish to recover. The historian of Greece and Rome, because of his scant ma- terial, bas to piece together much of his story from inscriptions and later authori- ties. He bas the ‘impenetrable stupidity” of Diodorus an the anecdotes of Plutarch, but he would prefer something more con- temporary. He would like to read the rise of Ath- ens as recorded by Hellanious, and the story of Sicily as told by the ‘‘Pusillus The experiments of the Forest Service show that the effects of impact and gradu- ally applied loads are different, provided that the stress applied by either method is within the elastic limit of the piece under test. For example, a stick will bend twice as far without showing loss of elasticity under impact, or when the load is applied by a blow, as it will under the gradually inereasing pressure ordinarily used in test- ing. The experiments are being extended to determine the relations between strength under impact and gradueal loads. Bending and compression tests to deter- mine the effect of the speed of application of load on the strength and stiffness of | wood have already been made at the Yale laboratory. The bending tests were made at speeds of deflection varyivg from 2.3 inches per minate to 0.0045, and required from twenty seconds to six hours for each test. The woods used were longleaf pine, red spruce, aud chestnat, both soaked and kiln dried. From the results are obtained comparable records for difference in speeds in application of load. A muliplication of the results of any test at any specd by the proper reduction factor derived from these experiments, will give equivalent values at standard speed. The tests also show concretely the variation of strength due to variations of speed liable to ocour during the test itself. The re- sults plotted on cros«-section paper give a remarkably even curve as an expression of the relation of stiength to speed of applica- tion of load, and show much greater strength at the higher speeds. It is common belief among polemen that the continual vibrations to which telephone poles are subjected, take the life ont of the wood and render it brash and weak. Nosh- ing is definitely known as to the truth or falsity of this idea. Tests will be under. taken to determine the effect of constant vibration on the stiength of wood. —Seientific American Presidentinl Mothers and Wives. Not many of the names in this list of mothers of the Presidents we kaown to fame, hut who can sav whether the sons would ever have been heard of if the moth. ers had not been such women as they were: George Washington Mary Ball John Adams........ Susanna Boy Ison Thomas Jeflerso Jape Randolph James Madison... Nelly Conway . Eliza Jones Abigail Smith Elizabeth Hutchinson Maria Hoes Elizabeth Bassett John Tyler... Mary Armistead James K, Polk... Jane Knox Millard Fillmore Andrew Johnson... U. 8B. Grant...cusine Rutherford B, H James A. Garfiel - Chester A. Arthur... Grover Cleveland... Thucydides,’’ Philistus, who took part in | Benjamin Harrison. his own subject matter and was the con- | yim Mekinley-...... Nancy Allison temporary of Dionysius. Not least, he would wish tosee Alexander and successors as they appeared to those with whom they lived. If his interests were more with Latin literatare, he might then h to find in Herculaneam the lost “Civil Wars” of Sallust and the loss ‘‘Decades”’ of Livy. Something, too, might be found that would give new knowledge, if not of early Chris. tianity, yet perhaps of the early Christians. To test th:se speculations one chief thing is wanting —money. The assistance of the Italian Parliament would be needed. Even then the sum required would be large, per- haps a quarter of a million, perhaps more. Want of money, and that alone, has pre- vented the attempt being made; but the money should be found somehow. Here is the greatest romance of excavation and dis covery waiting.— [The Specatator.] China on the March, Even China has been caught in the stream of progress. Not only has her military system been reorgavized under Japanese direction, so that an efficient fighting force with unlimited posibilities of development been oreated, but steps have been taken toward the establishment of a constitution. The astute Empress Dow- ager, having wisely resolved to take the lead in this direction, instead of wait- ing, like the Czar, to have her hand forced by a popular uprising, has been able to act with that leisurely deliberation so congen- ial to Chinese habits of mind. She bas sent a commission abroad to study foreign methods of governments, and has begun the preparation of plans for a deliberative as. sembly, which, it is expected, will be fully perfected in about twelve years. Mean- while she is introducing gradual reforms ip the details of administrative machinery. Thus the progressive ideas that nearly cost the young Emperor his life seven years have now been adopted by the chief of the reactionists. Three Agusient i Russia, Persia, and China, one of them the oldest and most lous in the world, and all together com a third of the hu- man race—may be said to have been fairly started within the past year on the road of constitutional government. There are reaily no absolute, ir ble monarchies left except Turkey, Morocco, and a few barbarous tribes, and even those have been 80 brought under the tutelage of the ocivil- ized powers that the despotic anthority of their rulers is hardly more than a name. — Colliers. ! The Presidents’ wives were as follows : James K. Polk.... Zachary Taylor... Childress wo. Margaret Smith { Abigail Powers Millard Filimore........ { AbEM! Powers = Franklin Pierce... . Jane M. Appleton James Buchanan Unmarried) Abraham Lincoln ary Tedd Andrew Johnson Chester A, Arthur. Grover Cleveland. {Ftaioes Be . ‘arolina Scott Benjamin Harrisco.... i Mary Scott Dimmick William MeKinley........ .1da Saxton Alice Lee Theodore Roosevelt... { fice Kermit Carew Frances Folsom Willle's Lion Hunting. “When I grow up,’ said Willie, *‘I am going to A rica and kill lions with a ? #8 . “Why not kill them witha gun, Wil- lie?’ asked his father. *‘Why, all the natives kill lions with a spear, you know, and I wouldn’t want to bave the advantage of them. I would want to fight the licus band to hand.” ‘‘But sap you run upon two lions,” said Willie's father. ‘While you were fighting one hand to hand, the other could slip up behind and bite a piece out of the back of your neck." That put the matter in a new lighe. Willie thought over it a while and then decided perhaps after all it was better to he a private. Cn —————————. In the course of a life time every man spends hundreds of dollars on medicine or medical advice which he would save if he bad at hand Dr. Pierce’s Common Sense Medical Adviser. Its name tells its scope. It is a common sense presentation of iological fact and hygienic law. It tells the truth in plain English. It is written 80 that ‘‘he who runs may read.” This encyclopedia of medical information is sent free ou receipt of stamps to pay the cost of mailing only. Send 21 oue-cent stamps for the paper bound book, or 31 stamps for cloth covers. Address Dr, R. V. Pierce, Buffalo, N. Y. ‘
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers