Bellefonte, Pa., March 15, 1907. _ A SOULFUL GEM. “ROCK OF AGES" “Rock of Ages, clei for me, Thoughtlessly the maiden sung ; Fell the words unconsciously From her girlish, gleeful tongue; Sang as little children sing ; Sang as sing the birds in June ; Fell the words like bright leaves down On the current of the tune : “Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee." “Let me hide myself in Thee" Felt her soul no need to hide; Sweet the song as song could be~ And she had no thought beside ; All the words unheedingly Fell from lips untouched by care, Dreaming not they each might be On some other lips a prayer— ‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee." “Rock of Ages, cleit for me—"" 'T was a woman sung them now, Pleadingly and prayerfully ; Every word her heart did know; Rose the song as storm tossed bird Beats with weary wing the air; Every note with sorrow stirred, Every syllable a prayer— “Rock ot Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee,” “Rock of Ages, cleft for me~"" Lips grown aged sang the hymn Trustingly and tenderly— Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim, “Let me hide myself in Thee." Trembling though the voice and low, Rose the sweet sirain peacefully, Like a river in its flow. Sung as only they ean sing Who life's thorny paths have pressed ; Sung as only they can sing Who behold the promised rest— “Rock of Ages, cleft tor me, Let me hide myself in Thee." “Rock of Ages, clelt for me,” Sung above a coffin lid ; Underneath all restfully, All life's joys and sorrows hid. Nevermore, O storm-tossed soul ! Nevermore from wind or tide, Nevermore from billows’ roll Wilt thou need thyself to hide. Could the sightless, sunken eyes Close beneath the soft gray hair, Could the mute and stiftened lips Move again in pleading prayer, Still, aye still, the words would be, “Let me hide myself in Thee." — Anon, THE WISDOM OF THE HEART. Just because I am an old woman out- wardly it doesn’t follow that I am one in- wardly. Hearts don’t grow old — or shonldun’t. Mine, I am thankful to say, hasn't. I'm only an old lady who oan do little more than sit hy the window and knit; bat eyes were made for seeing and | use mine for that purpose. When I see the good and the beautiful thivgs—and a body need never look for the cther kind, you know—the things God has planned from the beginning and brooght about in spite of the counter plans sud schemes of men, I feel such a deep joy that I'm glad, even at seventy-five, to be alive in a world where such things come to pass. Aud if ever God meant aud made two people for each other, those people are Doctor John and Marcella Barry, and that is what I always tell peo- ple who come here c.mmentiog ou the dif- ference in their ages. “Old cuongh to be ber father,” sniffed Mex. Riddell to me the ether day. I didn’t say anything to Mrs. Riddell—I just looked nt her. | presume my face expressed what I thought pretty olearly. How any woman oan live for sixty years in this world as Ms, Riddell bas, as a wile and mother at that, and not get some realization of the beauty of a rea! and abiding love iy something I cannot understand and never shall be able (0. Nobody in Bridgeport believed that Marcella would ever come back except Doctor Jokn and me—nos even her Aunt Sara. I've heard people laugh at me when I said I knew she wonld, hut nobody minds being laughed at when she is sure of a thing, and I was as sure that Marcella Barry would come back as that the sun rose and set. Ihadn't lived beside ber for eight years to kuow so little about her as to doubt her. Neither had Doctor Joka. . Marcella was only eight years old when she came to live in Bridgeport. Her father had just died; ber mother, who was a sis- ter of Miss Sara Bryant, my next-door neighbor, had been dead for four vears. Marcella’s father left her to the gnardian- ship of his brother, Richard Barry: but Miss Sara pleaded so hard to have the little girl that the Barrys consented to let Mar. cella live with berannt until she was six. teen. Then, they said, she would have to £0 back to them to be properly educated and take the place of her father’s daughter in his world. For, of course, it is a fact that Mies Sara Bryant's world was a very different one from Chester Barry's world. As to which side the difference really fa- vors, that isn’t for me to say. It all de- pends oo your standard of what is really worth while, you see, So Marcella came to live with us in Bridgeport. I say ‘‘gs" advisedly. She slept and ate in heraunt'y house; but every house in the village was a home to her, for, with ail our little disagreements and diverse opinions, we are really all one big family and everybody elge, Besides, Mar- cella was one of those children whom every- body loves at sight aud keeps on loving. ah blue apes of pepe oro thore bi, gray. ers went r i heart and stayed there, 3 ae your She Wa a pretty Skil} and as was pretty. It was the ri ht sort of good- ness, too, with juss ls of original sin in it to keep it from spoiling by reason of over-sweetness. She was a frank, brave, lov ine thing, even at eight, and ouldn ve said or don ave her Jide. ®4 Wey ting tv e and I were right good friends from the beginning. She loved we and she loved her Aunt Sara; but from the very first her hest deepest affection went out to Doctor John. It was predestination; I'm old-fashioned enough to believe in that. Doctor John lived next door to Miss Sara on the other side, in a big brick house that had been his father's before bim when his father had been Doctor Haven. Doctor ohn was a Bridgeport boy, and when he got through college he came right home and settled down here, with his widowed mother. The Bridgeport girls were flutter: ed, for eligible young men were scarce in _ our village; there was considerable setting good as she ’ of caps, I must say that, although I despise ill-natured gossip; but neither the caps nor the wearers thereof seemed to make an impression on Doctor John. Mrs. Riddell said be was a born old bachelor. I suppose she based her opinion on the fact that Doctor John was always a quiet, bookish fellow who didn’s care a button for society and had never been guilty of a flirtation in bis life. I knew Doctor John’s heart far better than Martha Riddell could ever know it, and I knew there was nothing of the old bachelor in his nature. He just had to wait for the right woman, that was all, not being able to contemt himself with less, as some men can and do. If she never came, Doctor John would never marry, but he wouldn't be an old bachelor for all thats, Bridgeport—a tall, broad-shoaldered man with a mass of thick brown curls and level dark hazel eyes. He walked with a little stoop, his bands clasped behind him, and he had the sweetest voice—spoken music, if ever a voice was. He was kind and brave and gentle; bat a little distant and reserved with most people. Everybody in Bridgeport liked him, but only a very few ever passed the inner gates of his confidence or were admitted to any share in his real lite. Iam proud to say I was one. I think it is something for an old woman to boast of. Dr. Jobo was always fond of children and they of him, It was natural that he and the little Marcella should take to each ather. He had the most to do with bring- ing ber up, for Miss Sara consulted him in everything. Marcella was not hard to manage, for the most part; but she had a will of her own, and, when she did set it up in opposition to the powers that were, nobody but the doctor could influence her at all. She never resisted or disobeyed his wishes, Marcella was one of those girls who de- velop early. 1suppose her constant asso- ciation with us elderly foiks had something to do with it too. But at fifteen she was a woman, beautiful, loving, spirited. And Doctor John loved her—loved the woman, not the child. those young, straight-gazing eyes of hers were wonderfully quick to read iuto other peoples hearts. 1 watched them together and I saw the love growing between them, like a strong, fair, perfect flower whose fragrance was to endure for eternity. Miss Sara saw it too, and was ball pleased and half worried; even Miss Sara thought the doctor was too old for Marcella, and, be- sides, there were the Barrys to be reckoned with. Those Barrys were the nightmare dread of poor Miss Sara’s life. The time came when Doctor John’s eyes were opened. He looked into his own heart and read what life bad written there for him. As he told me afterward, it came to him with a shock. Bus he was a brave, sensible fellow and be looked the matter squarely in the face. First of all, he put on one side all that the world might say he would not take that into account at all; the thing concerned only Marcella and him. and the world had nothing to do with it. Then he asked himsel? calmly if he bad any right to try and win Marcella's love. He decided that he bad not. It would be taking, he thooght, an unfair advantage of her youth and inexperience. He kvew that she munst soon go to her father’s people. She must not go hound by any ties of his making. Doctor John was nos a vam man, but I think be knew he conld make Marcella love him; and for ber rake he gave the decision against his own heart, Se much Doctor Jobn told me, his old friend and confidante. I said nothing and gave no advice, not having lived seventy- five years for nothing. I knew that Doe- tor John's decision was manly and righ and fair, bat I also knew it was all naili- fied by the fact that Marce!la already lov: ed him, So much I knew; the rest I was left to suppose. The doctor aud Marcella told me much, but there were some things too sacred to be told, even to me. So shat to this day I don’t know how the doctor found out that Marcella loved him. All [ know is that one day, just a month before her sixteenth birthday, the two came band in hand to Miss Sara and me, as we sat on Miss Sara's veranda, aod told us simply that they had plighted their troth to one another. I looked at them standing there with that wonderful sunrise of life and love on their faces—the dootor tall and serious, with a sprinkle of silver in his brown hair and the smile of a happy man on his lips, and Marcella, such a slip of a girl, with her black bair in a long braid aud ber love: ly face all dewed with tears and sunned over with smiles. I, an old woman, looked as them, and thanked the good God for them and their delight. Miss Bara laughed and cried and kissed, and forboded what the Barrys would do. Her forebodings proved only too true. When the doctor wrote to Richard Barry, Marcelin’s guardian, asking his consent to their engagement, Richard Barry promptly made trouble. He descended on Bridgeport in his wrath and completely overwhelmed Miss Sara. He laughed at the idea of coun- tenancing an engagement between a child like Marcella and an obscure country doce tor, and he carried Marcella off with him. She had to go of course. He was her legal guardian and he would listen to no pleadings of any kind. He didn’t know anything about Marceila’s character and he thought that a new life in the great world would soon blot out her childish fancy. After the frst outburst of tears and pray- ers Marcella took it very calmly, as far as outward eye could see. She was cool and diguified aod stately as a young queen. On the night before she went away she came over to say good-bye to me. She did not shed any tears, but the look in her eyes told of hitter hurt. ‘It is good-bye for five years, Miss Tran- quil,” she said steadily. ‘When I am twenty-one I shall come back. That is the only promise I can make. They will not let me write to John or Aunt Sara, and I will come back.” Ricbard Barry would not even let her see Doctor Joon alone. She bad to bid him good-bye beneath those cold, contemptuous eyes of the man of the world. So there was just a hand-clasp and one long, deep look between them that wae tenderer than any kiss and more cloguent than any w “T shall come back when Iam twenty- one,’’ Sia Yareel's, And I saw Richard smile. So Marcella went away, and in all Bridge- port only two people believed that she oo ever return. There is no keeping a secret in Bridgeport everybody knew about the love affair between Dootor John and Marcella and the promise she had made. Everybody sym ized with the dootor, for everybody believed that he had lost his sweetheart. ‘‘For of course she'll never come back,’ said Mrs. Riddell to me. “‘She’s only a child and she'll forges him in a year. She's to be sent to school and taken abroad and between times she'll live with the Richard He was thirty when Marcella came to | ! I knew it before he did, but i not, I think, before Marcella knew, for Barrys, and they move, as everyone knows, in the very highest and gayest society. I'm sorry for the doctor, though. A man of his age doesn’t get over a thing like that in a hurry, and be was perfectly silly over Mar- cella. But is really serves him right for falling in love with a child.” There are times when Martha Riddell gets on my nerves. She is a good-hearted wom- anand she means well, bus she rasps— rasps terribly. Even Miss Sara exasperated me. Bat theo she had excuses. The child she loved like her own had been tora from her, and it bad almost broken her heart. But, even #0, I thought she might have bad a little more faith in Marcella. ‘Oh, no, she'll never come back,’ sob- bed Miss Sara. ‘Yes, I know she promised - . . bacthey’ll wean her away from me. She'll have such a gay, splendid life that she'll not want to come back. Five years is a lifetime at her age. No, don’t try to comfort me, Tranquil, because I won't be comforted.” When a person has made up ber mind to be miserable you just bave to let her be miserable. I almost dreuded to see Doctor John for fear he would be in the deeps cf despair, too, without any confidence in Marcella. Bat when he came I saw I needn't have worried. The light bad gone out of his eyes, but there was a calm, steady patience in them. ‘She will come back to me, Miss Tran- quil,”” he said. *‘I know what people are eaying, but that does not trouble me. They do not know Marcella as I do. She promis- ed and she will keep her word—keep it joyously, too. It Idid not know that, I would not wish its fulfilvient at all. When she is free she will turn her back on that brilliant world and all it offers and come tome. My part is to wait and trast.” So Doctor John waited and trusted. After a little while the gossip died away and people forgot Marcella. We never heard from or about her,except a paragraph now and then in the society column of the city paper the doctor took. We kuew that hie was gent to school for three years; then the Barrys took her abroad. She was pre- sented at coort. When the doctor read this —he was with me at the time—be put his hand over his eyes and eat silent for a long time. I wondered if at last some doubt bad crept into his mind—il he did not fear that Marcella must have forgotten him. The paper told of her beanty and her tri- umphs; it hinted at a titled suitor. Was it probable or even possible that she would he faithful to him after all this? The doctor must have read my thoughts, for after a time he looked up with a emile. But I saw thar the doubt it was, had gone. I watebed him as he went away, that tall, that his tiust might not prove misplaced. forward. But it pusses quickly enough. One day I remembered that it was Mar- cella’ twents-fitst birthday. Only one other person thought of it. Ev. n Miss Sara did not. Mis« Sara remembered Marcella only as a child that bad been ioved and lost. Nobody else in Bridgeport thooght ahont her at all. The doctor came in that evening, He had a rose in his buttonhole and he walked with a light step. ‘She is free today,” he said. ‘We shall soon have Ler again, Miss Tranquil.” “Do you think she will he the same?" | said I don’t know what made me say it. | hate to bez one of those people who throw cold water ou other people's hopes. But it slipped out hefore I thought. I suppose the doubt had heen vaguely troubling me always under all my faith in Marcella, snd now made itself fels in spite of me. Bat the doctor anly laughed. “How could she be changed?” he said. “Some women might be, but not Marcella —never Marcella. Dear Miss Tranquil, don’t ~poil your beantiful record of voufi- deuce by doubting ber now. We shall have her again svon, how soon I don’t know, for I don’t even know where she is, whether in the Old World or the New, bat just as 2000 as she can come to ue.” We said nothing more. Bat every day the light in the doctor's eyes grew brighter and deeper and tenderer. He never spoke of Marcella, bat I knew she was in his thoughts every moment. He was much calmer than I was. I trembled when the postman knocked, and jumped when the gate latch clicked; and I fairly had a cold chill if TI sawa telegraph boy running down the street. One evening, a fortnight later, I went over to see Miss Sara. She was out some. where, so I sat down in her little sitting. room to wait for her. Presently the doo. tor drop in and we sat in the soft twi- light, talking a little now and then, but silent when we wanted to be, as hecame real friendship. It was such a beautiful evening! Outside, in Miss Sara’s garden, the roses were white and red and sweet with dew; the honeysuckle at the window sent in delicious breaths now and again; a few sleepy birds were twittering; between the trees the sky was al! pink and silvery blu, and there was an evening star over theelm in wy front yard. We beard somehody come in at the front door and through the hall. I tur ed, expecting to sre Miss Sara: and I saw Marcella! She was «tanding in the doorway, tall and beautiful, witha ray of sunset light falling athwart the black hair under her traveling bat. She was looking past me at Doctor John, avd in hersplendid eyes was the look of the exile who bad come home to her own. ‘‘Marcella!”’ said the doctor. I went out by the other door and shut it behind me, leaving them alone together. The wedding is to be next month. Miss Sara is beside herself with delight and Bridgeport cannot get used to it. The ex- citement has been something terrible, and the way people have talked and wondered and exclaimed bas almost!'worn my patience clean ont. I've snubbed more ple in the last ten Jaye than I ever did in my life before. But there are really some persons who haven’t sense enough to know when they are snubbed. Nothing worries Doctor John and Mar- cella, though. They are too happy to care for gossip or outside curiosity. The are not coming to the wedding, I under- stand; they refuse to forgive Marcella or countenance her ‘‘folly”’ in any way. Folly! When I see those two together and realize what they mean to each other I bave some humble, reverent understand- ing of what true wisdom is!—By L. M. Montgomery,in Watson's Magazine. . —— ‘Mies Ethel,” he , ‘‘or, Ethel, I mean, I've known you long enough to drop the ‘Miss,’ haven't 19" fixed her lovely eyes upon him with a meani A ‘Yes, [ think you have,’ she said. ‘What prefix do you wish to substitute?" ——At least two-thirds of the married men you meet are henpecked, but th don’t know it. is y | “Ste will come back,” was all he said. { gentle, kindly eyed man, and I prayed | Five years seemed a long timein looking { i brought him a third; while his dying vision A HOMESICK BOY. I'm visitin’ Aunt Maria's, And I'm homesick as I can be; It's sawdust and shavin's for break fast, And shavin's and sawdust for tea! ! i She says it ain't sawdust or shavin's, But some kind 0’ nu-triment food ; Anyway "tain’t pie nor doughnuts, Nor fritters, nor anything good ! She never has jam or cookies, She says they are awful for me ; We eat ‘em like sixty to our house, And we're all of us healthier'n she ! She won'tlet me have any sugar, Because it will give me the gout, And meat I can't swallow a mite of Till I've chewed it an hour about ! Didn't know that I had any liver ‘Cause, you see, I was never sick much : But I'm hungry for all I ean think of 'Cept sawdust and shavin's and such. Oh, I want to see Ma and Louisa And Grandma and my old ball ! Than anything else at all ! — Emma D. Dowd, in Life. The Four bLeaved Shamrock. —— how in the order of things. planations offer themselves for the saints using the little three leaved plant for his the four-leaved shamrock —and it's cousin, the fonr-leaved clover—is such a lncky em- Lucky it is, hoth in love and more every. day affairs, a« every superstitious mortal | will tell you. And even those practical, common sense wuortals occasionally confess that, while they don’t believe in luck, still they do like to find a four-leaved clover. St. Patrick certainly badn’t anything to do with that end of things; bas, then, the superstition is as strongly believed in as if be bad—that a girl who finds a four-leaved shamrock will find her lover within a year, or in three. And no girl is above plucking one, if it lies in her path ! From Ireland, where 20 many tender lit- tle stories are created, comes a legend of the man who traveled the whole world over recking the four-leaved shamrock. Restless and eager, life slipped by him as he sought, and yet he never found it, until, fat lass, he went hack home and took up { his long-neglected duty. There, beside the | threshold of the lit'le onstage he called But I guess I'm homesicker for doughnuts : illustration, but nohdy, not a single lone | folklorist. has come forward to tell us why i WHALES THAT FENCE. The Male Narwhal Uses Its Eight Foot Tooth as a Sword. Who ever heard of whales fencing ! with one another—just for amusement | apparently? This may seem very strange, but it is nevertheless true. There are whales that not only fence | with one another, but use their teeth | for swords, Some whales have no | teeth, but instead of teeth have great | sheets of whalebone hanging from the | roof of the mouth, others have thelr | great jaws filled with terrible teeth, { while one kind, the narwhal, hag but two teeth, One of the tecth of the male narwhal grows through the upper lip and looks like a spear projecting in front of the animal. Sometimes both teeth grow ' out in this way, but that is not often the case. This tooth is frequently eight feet in length, and it is with this powerful tooth or spear that the nar- whal does his fencing, No one seems to know of what use With 8t. Patrick’s day looming up in Such 4 big tooth Is to the marwial, the near distance, shamrocks seem some- | A posi of 63. | scare out fhe fish fhat may be lurking Some say it is used for digging the mud in the bottom of the ocean to there. Others think it is used in spear- ing the fish or for breaking holes through the ice in the northern seas in winter, for whales have to come to the blem for the sentimental maiden to find. | Surface occasionally to breathe. But, for whatever use it is intended, it is certain the whale derives amusement | from his tooth, for when he wants to play he finds another narwhal in the same playful mood, and away they go clashing swords—or teeth—together, Besides being very frolicsome, they are very active for such big animals, and sailors have watched them cross- Ing swords, thrusting and parrying, rolling, turning and darting with much agility. In traversing the ocean they form in ranks like soldiers, and with similar undulations of the body and sweeps of the tail they swim by the thousand to- gether, The narwhal is light gray in color and covered with black spots. The Greenlanders value it highly for many { home, he found it. The story is an allegory, of course, the | shamrock symbolizing contentment, which | | men think i< fonnd in fame or snceess, hat | { which, so the story says, grow only in the | path of duty. Another tale, from Aralna or Persia — i fomewhere out of the Ea-t—tells of the | | wanderfol four leaved shamrock —1he only | | bit of Paradise Eve carried away with het i from the garden of Eden. Ouse of its leaves | | was copper, one ~ilver, ons gold, and the | | fourth a diamond. The tradition ix that, | as she passed throngh the gates, a violent | gost of wind tore the leaves from her hand | | and scattered them over the land. i Then-this story tells of a man wha dreamed and dreamed of the legend until lit seem .d to him that, in all the world, there was nothing so wonderful- nothing he cared so much to have--as those fon | precions bits. He tried to look for thew. | but interruptions came~-he tarned aside to belp diz a well in the desert ; and, with the first rush of the water, came a bit of copper——the bit he wanted. He turned aside from hi« seaioh again to save a young girl's life, and she gave him her amulet, which was another leaf. And another interruption—another good deed—— was of an angel who held out to him the fourth. These are only legends, only the sym- bolical tales that mean #0 much, or so lit. tle, depending upon you. Bat in each isa germ of trash, ——For many years we have heard the advice given, “In time of peace prepare for war,” but ts my mind a much more im- portant adage to hear in mind is, “In time of health prepare for sicknese,”’ Those who bave good health cannot too carefully gnard it, and those who are not blessed with this great boon should leave nothing in their power undone to obtain it. Little children, of conse, do not under- stand the wisdom of this, nor bave they the judgment in caring for their physical well-being; but I consider that the mother who neglects the physical care and training of her children is almos® a eriminal. Many mothers who would he horrified at such an accusation against them are, nevertheless, thonghtlessly courting it. One of the commonest sources of neglect is in not seeing that the ohild gets the proper amount of play. Not physical ex- ercise, but play. The growing child needs a great deal of active play, which means some form of physical activity, which at the same time will bring pleasare and men- tal stimulant. A healthy child, if not restrained. will usaally find in active play —running,jomp- ing, shouting and so on—natural and suffi- cient exercise—exercise which will supply all needed development, both of body and mind. But when the child is not inclined to do this, and prefers reading or pastimes that do not require activity, then it is the mother’s duty to tactfully encourage good, wholesome, romping play. I am always 80 sorry for the children whose mental powers are prematurely developed, and cannot understand parents who try to do this, as such efforts are so often attended with serious results ; and it is especially barmfal to precocious children to try to cultivate their ‘‘smartness.” ——The largest passenger engine in the world bas just been completed at the Pitts- burg plant of the American Locomotive company. It is of the Paocifio type and will be tested on the Pennsylvanis lines west. It it comes up to the anticipation a num- ber of others will be built of the same type. This engine has six drivers, each 80 inohes in diameter. The weight on the drivers is 170,000 pounds, while the entire enzine will weigh about 240,000 pounds. There are engines that weigh as munch as this one but none have heen built of that weight with the high drivers. Speed is the one thing sought aud if the engine proves the success expected, it is to be placed on the regular runs of the Pennsylvania special and other flyers. A ———— —*''Love,”’ remarked the sentimental maid, “makes time fly.” “It does Qurivi sourighiip, rejoined the young widow, ‘‘but after the parson has eaid his say, time begins to make love fly.’ A ————————" ~——‘‘What'll you take for that pipe 2" ‘‘Oh, you wouldn’t care to smoke this reasons, Its oll is of a very fine qual- | ity, its flesh Is used for food, and the skin is made into a jelly ealled mattak, considered too much of a dainty for or- | dinary occasions.—8t. Louis Post Dis- | patch. Kneeling In the Commons. The navy is not the only institution which has had trouble over an on the knee order, for kneeling as well as standing orders have been fertile of trouble in the house of commons. The late Sir Reginald Palgrave states that the practice of ordering delinquents on their knees was stopped by the ob- duracy of a Mr. Murray in February, 1750. Being ordered to kneel for the purpose of receiving the censure of the house for a breach of privilege, he re- fused to comply. His audacity was voted a high contempt, and he was sent to Newgate, where he remained till set free by the prorogation, four months afterward. But the victory was his, for no one, according to Pal- grave, was ever afterward compelled to kneel at the bar. Oldfield, however, records the following among later In- stances: An election for the city of Westminster took place In 1751, when Lord Trentham was returned against Sir George Vandeport. Serious out- rages having been committed by the mob, one of the ringleaders, Mr. Crowle, an attorney, was summoned before the commons. The delinquent was commanded to kneel and was duly reprimanded by the speaker. On ris- ing he wiped his knees and said he had never been in so dirty a house be- fore.—Pall Mall Gazette, Largest Family on Record. In the Harlein manuscript, Nos. 78 and 980, in the library of the British museum mention is made of the most extraordinary family that has ever been known in the world's history. The parties were a Scotch weaver and his wife (not wives) who were the fa- ther and mother of sixty-two children. The majority of the offspring of this prolific pair were boys (exactly how many of each sex is not known), for the record mentions the fact that for- ty-six of the male children lived to reach manhood’s estate and only four of the daughters lived to be grownup women. Thirty-nine of the sons were still living in the year 1630, the major- ity of them then residing in and about Newcastle-on-Tyne. It is recorded in one of the old histories of Newcastle that “a certyne gentleman of large es- taytes” rode “thirty and three miles beyond the Tyne to prove this wonder- ful story.” It is further related that Sir J, Bowers adopted ten of the sons, and three other “landed gentlemen” took ten each. The remaining mem- bers of this extraordinary family were brought up by the parents. A Temperance Story. “A Melbourne husband,” said a lec- turer, “stayed out till about 8 a. m, This man, when he got home, thought that he would go boldly to the bath- room and take a bath. That would re- move from his wife's mind any suspi- clon as to his condition. It would show ler, In a word, that he was all right. So he undressed, filled the tub and plunged in. Hot and enfevered as he was, he enjoyed the bath. As he splashed and serubbed and puffed he heard a slight noise and, looking up, saw his wife in the doorway. His wife was regarding him with an expression of unspeakable contempt. He was rather amazed at that, but he said nothing. He lowered his head and went on scrubbing. ‘Well, what are you doing? she asked. ‘Can't you see what I'm doing? he answered, He rubbed up some more lather. ‘I'm tak- ing a bath’ She sniffed and said as she turned to go, ‘Why don't you take old plve = ‘No, bat I'd like to buy it and throw it away." off your underclothes then?” The Kindnces of the Poor. The old adage that the poor are the best friends of the poor was instanced in the story ef a chambermaid, who is a young widow with two children to support, After a lingering sickness the Younger of the children died, and, the young mother's bank account having been depleted from defraying the ex- penses of the weel:s of medicine and doctor's visits, she was obliged to con- tract a debt at the undertaker’s. After that she paid a small monthly install ment until the bill was half settled, when one day there came through the mail a receipt for the remainder. The receipt was accompanied by a badly written and blotted note from a serub- woman in a jarge uptown hotel, who knew of the trouble, knew the family and the circumstances and in her note explained that she had no family nor near relatives and that she earned enough to support herself and tu .t she wanted to use this surplus money for the little mother, who needed all that she could make extra to support the remaining child. As scrubwomen re- ceive only 50 or 75 cents a day, one will readily appreciate the spirit which moved one kind soul to help another in distress.—Leslie's Weekly. What Words Can Do. “Any one who swears,” declared the bishop of Carlisle, “manifests the beg- garliness of his vocabulary.” The Con- cord Patriot puts it in this fashion: “People swear because they do not know the possibilities of plain Eng- lish or have not the skill to manipulate it so that it will yield the amount of fire they want. You can do almost anything with common words. No matter how tame and lifeless they look standing in stupid rows as if they didn’t know enough to come in when it rained, they can be made to dance like imps, to frolic like fairies, to float angelwise on light wings, to glow like fire spirits. They can do things that make the ordinary bits of profanity look like feeble scarecrows stilfened up with a fence stake. The cure for profanity—reformers and edu- cators please make a note—is merely wit enough to handle your words so that swearing will seem like baby talk in comparison.” When Blondin Was Afraid. One of Blondin's favorite jokes was to offer to carry some distinguished spectator across the rope with him on his back. Everybody naturally refus- ed, and the great equilibrist, with a genial smile, would say, “I am sorry You are afraid I should drop you.” But he was hoist once with his own petard. He was exhibiting in Paris and was about to cross the Seine on his rope. Cham, the great caricaturist, had come to make a sketch. Blondin, recognizing him, at once invited him to cross with him. “With pleasure,” replied Cham, “but on one condition.” ‘ “And that is”— queried Bloudin. “That I shall carry you on my back,” answerad Cham, “Not if T know myself.” answered Blondin, “Ah,” trinmphantly exelaimed Cham, “this time, M. Rlondin, it is you who are afraid!” Hiustrious Shoemakers. Shoemaking is a calling which has given the world some very great men. One authority asserts that the major: ity of cobblers have exceptional brains, that their attitude when stooping over their work tends to a cranial develop- ment in the part where the intellectual faculties are seated. Some one has written a book on illustrious shoemak- ers. In it are Sir Cloudesley Shovel, Gifford the Terrible, Bloomfield, author of the well known “Farmer's Boy,” Carey, the orientalist; Admiral Myngs, George Fox, founder of the Society of Friends; John Kitto, the Biblical schol ar, and Sturgeon, the electrician. The list of illustrious shoemakers runs into scores, Rocks That Float In Water. A geologist who is well up in his business can name a dozen or twenty different specimens of rocks and min- erals that have less specific gravity than water and which will, if tossed into that clement, float on the surface, Hubelite is one of the best known rep- resentatives of that class. The common pumice stone is another example. The rock with the very least specific grav- | ity known is damari, a substance found in an extinct volcano in Damara- land. Its atomic weight is .5, or exact Iy one-half that of hydrogen. The Sum of Genius. Men give me some credit for genius. All the genius that I have lies just in this: When I have a subject in hand, I study it profoundly. Day and night it is before me. I explore it in all its bearings. My mind becomes pervaded with it. Then the effort which I make is what people are pleased to call the fruit of genius. It is the fruit of labor and of thought.—Alexander Hamilton. Art of Reading. To get the best out of reading we must begin early and work hard. It is an art like music or painting and de- mands its stern apprenticeship. It re- mains true that a man who knows only his own tongue does not know that.— Christian World. Wonderful. She—What Interested you most in your travels, major? Major—Well, the mummy of a queen I saw in Egypt. It's wonderful how they could make a woman dry up and stay that way.- Philadelphia Inquirer, A fool can talk without knowing what he ought to say, but a wise man’s silence is due to his knowing what he ought not to say.—Chicago News.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers