i
E
Diemorraic Wada,
ASSIS,
— meme fre
Bellefonte, Pa., Aprii 5, 1907.
rm
————
THE DRUGGIST AND THE FOOTPAD.
“Hist,” cried the stealthy footpad, as he
knocked the druggist down;
“Deliver up your wad at once before I crack
your crown!
You need not say you have no mun—
I've watched an hour or more, and fifty people
passed within,
And then came out your door!”
“Alas, sir,” wailed the druggist, as he rose with
features pale, :
“I pray you, Mr. Footpad, kindly listen tomy
tale:
Fall well I know that people do go in and out
my place,
But some come in for postage stamps, and
some come in to face
The mirror and adjust their hats, or borrow
pen and ink,
And some come in to ask the time and some
come in to think.
And some come in to meet their friends, and
some their friends do bring
To ask me for an almanac, or else a piece of
string.
And some come in to question where a certain
esr to catch,
While more come in to telephone or ask me for
a mateh;
And some to look up something in the street
directo-ree,
And some have nerve enough to try to borrow
dough of me.
And some come in to sit and hand out sage
advice
On how to run & drug store and treat the peo-
ple nice.
And some come in to rip me up and some to
rip me down
Because I closed at twelve one night when
they stayed late in town.
And some come in to tell a joke that I have
heard before,
And then because 1 don't ‘haw-haw’ they go
away dead sore.
And some come in to change a bill and then go
out again,
While some come in to warm themselves, or
get out of the rain. And some—""
“Enough! Enough!" the robber said, “Yours is
an awful calling,
My life of crime has never met a story so ap-
palling.
Forgive that lamp upon your head made by
my club descending,
And take my purse—I feel condemued to think
1 came near ending
‘The life of one whose only work is every one
Yefriending!"
—Rawling's Drug News,
A CHILDS VOICE.
The baby got in at Madison Square. Not
alone, of course, butcarried by an impas-
sive German nurse, whose cap was rampant
with starch. The baby was dressed dainsi-
ly and fine, as a littie iady should be, and
the people in the car looked up and smiled
unconsciously.
That started it ! For there is not a doubt
in my mind that the baby saw the smile,
and realized with what little effort she
could capture all hearts,
With the trae spiiit of conquest, she set
to work with ber blandishments. She
covered her tiny face with two little white-
mittened hands, then slowly allowed her
blue eyes to peek [rom over them. The
eyes were sparkling with the joy of life,
and knotted in the corners with a child's
laughter-wrinkles,
This was all for the benetit of the old
gentleman on her right, who quickly
capitulated and turned sideways to obtain
a better view of her. He noded his head,
Chinese fashion, and smiled crookediy,as if
he hoped the other passengers would not
see him.
At this, the baby clapped her hands and
laughed openly. Sure of her trinmph she
wriggled about on the nurse's lap until she
gn a good look at ber neighbor on the left.
e also was an elderly man. At first he
would have uone of her ! He drew out. a
newspaper and began to read, but the baby
made a lunge at it and brought away a fist
fall of Wall Street news.
There was some smothered langhter at
this, and the second old gentleman folded
the paper viciously and pnt it in his pocket.
The baby thought that rather a nice game
and tried to imitate him, bas if she bad a
pockets she failed to find 1t, and with a be-
witching little gesture she offered her
neighbor his tattered Wall Street items, —
possibly because she did not know what to
do with them. Bat thats an ulterior
thought ! We will try to believe that it
was in reparation for baving torn his paper.
Then, for the first time, old gentleman
No. 2 took real notice of her. One glance
and he, too surrendered. He held outa
finger, which was quickly grasped and
pump up and down to the tune of many
gurgles.
eanwhile, the first old gentieman kept
up his voddiug, and the second old gentle-
man joined in, and then, before they
knew it, they were nodding to each other.
Joe baby stiunded . has to each, at
w mpartiality the er passengers
made no farther attempt to hide their in-
terest and enjoyment.
Littlefield, who sas opposite the child,
found her more fascinating than the top of
his cane which, up to this time, be bad
been contemplating in an absorbed way.
Now he caught himself almost wishing oe
would flirt with Aim. The conductor next
claimed the little one’s attention. Little-
field laughed outright at the wonder which
grew in ber eyes as the harly fellow distrib-
uted his transfers. She looked up into her
nurse's face, evidently wondering why the
woman did not take one, but the nurse
kept her gaze fixed upon the windows be-
fore her, no shade of expression of human-
ity lighting ber featares. If, inwardly, she
loathed the notoriety which her young
charge counrted she Neyosige.
Suddenly the , bending forward,
beamed upon the entire car full of people,
ered up the Wall Street soraps which
soattered on the nurse's knees and,
th a charming twinkle, bestowed several
pieces on those pearest her.
The old gentlemen each gravely took
one, then, catch amute invitation in
Listleield’s eyes, the ohild held out to him
also of her own private transfers, which he
J a Wk iu
““That’s a great kid !"’
Littlefield tarned. The man beside him
was no less interested than he.
“Yes,” he said.
SDon's koow as I ever see one tu beat
her I'”
The man was evidently not a New
Yorker. He might have come from any-
where el¢e, west, south, east. His weather.
beaten face had a droll expression, but a
gentlenes® seemed to breathe from his big,
uncouth frame.
“She appears to have put everyone in 8
good humor,” said Littlefield, in a friendly |
way.
a t's your name, baby?’ asked the
big man, leaning forward.
“Yah— Yah!”
The baby said this witha wink, as if
she wanted him to know that what she
told him was not quite the truth.
“It sounds Persian,’’ laughed Littlefield.
“Or Navajo,”’ pus in the stranger.
Littlefield looked up quickly. Like all
good newspaper men, he was ever on the
trail of an odd character or the germ of a
story.
“You come {rom the Southwest?’ be
asked.
“Round there,”’ answered
carefully.
*‘Is this your first trip East ?’’ Littlefield
put it boldly, as though there were no
chance of the older man taking offence at
his question.
“Well—yes !"” He lonked Littlefield
over rapidly, and seemed satisfied. ‘Will
you tell me,’”’ he added, ‘‘what you New
Yorkers do with all the flowers you bave ?
Seems to me, I never see so many in all
my life before !"’
“It is the great Easter display,’’ said the
young man smiling; ‘‘the city isn’t always
#0 gay as this, but you have happened upon
us during one of our holidays. Pretty
sight, isn’t is ?”’
“Yes,” answered the Westerner, ‘‘but
what do you do with all the flowers ?"’
Littlefield thought for an instant.
“Mostly’’—he said—*‘mostly—we—send
them to our sweethearts !"’
“Will you send some to yours ?"’
The Westerner put the question with a
quains smile which included the baby, and
seemed to say, ‘‘We'll enjoy the joke to-
gether, kid !”’
Littlefield laughed. ‘‘I’'m married.” be
eaid.
The other persisted. “Will you send
some to your sweetheart 2’
The baby stopped swinging the first old
gentleman’s watch and listened.
“I told you—,’’ Littlefield began.
“‘Isn’t your wife your sweetheart 2’
Littlefield looked over at the child, and
something seemed to blur hefore him. Then
the car came suddenly to a stop and the
German woman stood up with the baby.
The newspaper man glanced from the
windows. They were at Forty-Second
Street. He conld hardly believe that the
youngster had heen in the car for a mile.
The time bad flown.
The two old gentlemen, as if ashamed of
their frivolity, shrank in their seats and
disdained to take further notice of each
other.
“By-by !"’sang the baby over the nurse's
shoulder.
There was not a person in the car who
did not answer the sweet little childvoice.
Some of them, only in their hearts, but
most of them in conscious, stiff tones.
Littlefield merely lifted his hat, then
once more held communion with the head
of his cane. When, finally pulling himself
together, he glanced around the car, he
found it singularly empty now that the
child had left.
“May I ask,”’ he said to the Westerner,
“how much farther you are going ?"’
“Don't know! I’m just riding ’round !"’
“Then let us leave together!” Littlefield
suggested, and started toward the door.
He could hear the stranger following him.
Once out in the street, they swung down
Broadway.
‘Ain't we just passed here?'’ asked the
older man,
“Yes, but you couldn't see much from
the windows.”
The street was filled with people, the air
rich with Spring warmth, and the wares of
the florists,ovetflowing the shops, straggled
gaily out to the very curbs.
“What's the matter, voung feller?”
asked the big man, suddenly, "did the kid
‘loco’ you om
**Not exactly,’’ said Littietield.
“Perhaps is was my question about your
sweetheart. I ask your pmdon il it was,
—it was none of my blamed business !"’
“What is your bosiness ?'’ asked Little-
field, ignoring the first part of the speech.
“Well, I haven’t any business here,”
said the man. “I came on, God knows
why, and I’m going back as quick as scat !
The plaivs ain’t in it for lonelinéss com-
pared with this place !"’
“See here!” said Littlefield, with a
rapid shavge of manner, “I'm going to tell
yon something nota soul in the world
knows. You'll think it odd, perbaps, my
telling this to a stranger whom 1 met ten
minutes ago in a public car. Bo% the man
conldn’t have a face like yours if his heart
wasn’t in the right place, and somehow,
that kid has set me thinking!’
“Fire away !I"' »aid the Westerner.
‘Yon say you're lonely ! Man, you
couldn't be as lonely as Iif you lived to
be a hundred. Ihave a home,—you might
call it that. My wile lives there too, but—
we're almost strangers. We haven’s spoken
in six months, except when we have visi-
tors. We live our lives apart; but under
the same roof, and I wonder if you can un-
derstand how ghastly that is !”’
*‘It muss be the devil !"’ said the other
man simply. ‘What happened ?"’
“Well, her sister died. There was a lit-
tle baby left,—a nice enough oue, I sup:
pose, though I bave never seen it. It's
father was a pretty bad sort, an! disap-
peared soon after the sister died, and has
never come back. I felt sorry for the
mother, bat I had never liked her. When
she died and the father made off, my wile
wanted to take the child,but I pus my foot
down. She has made all ber arrangements
without consulting me, and I didn’t like
it. Ilost my head that afternoon, when
we talked it over, and said some wild
things I suppose. I spoke of her sister in
a way she grew pretsy angry over, and said
she should nos bring the baby into the
house. I said I didn’t want her sister’s
child there, nor—nor anyone else's child !"’
The men walked along fora little way in
silence.
“It was rough, wasn’t it ?"’ asked the
stranger.
“Brutal,” admitted Littlefield, ‘‘but
the kid in the car seemed to change some-
thing within me. I conldn’t help think-
ing that if the sister’s child was like that
one, it would make things sort of jolly, or
it there was a little one of our own, the
world aur be such a beastly lonely
place after all.
““You’re all right,’’ said the other, kind-
ly, ‘‘vou’re all right.” Then he asked,
““‘where is the child ?"’
‘With some annt or other. I could find
out in the directory !"’
Same tion then, and find out.”
“I know,—but—'’ began Littlefield.
“Quit your buttin,’’ said the Westerner,
‘‘yon’re on the right trail—atick to it.”
41 "Littlefield almost
bashfully, *‘I thought I would send my
wile some flowers now, and go after the
baby tomorrow. It will be , you
koow, and we can make some attempts at
the holiday again.”’
Without more wordy; 3 he turned jos
himself in the midst of glories such as be
bad never dreamed of.
the other
“I don’t know much about these things,
but I suppose you wouldn't object if I were
to send her one ?"’
Listlefield put his band on the hoge
shoulder.
“She would like it,”’ he said. “Youn
must know her. Will yod come and spend
tomorrow with us?"
“I'll see, I'll see!"
Littlefield stood by the table while the
salesman put a dozen American Beauty
roses into a long box. Then he gave his
wife's address.
“Why don’s you carry them, and give
them to her yourself 2°’ cried the Wester-
ner. ‘‘Don’t vou think that's a pretty
fashion ? That’s the way I used to do.”
The big man bad such a deep voice, aud
put all his questions in such a tentative
manner !
“Well, yes,”” assented Littlefield, ‘‘only
it isn’t the custom here.”
“Oh, take them ! What do you care
about costom ! Is isn’t the costom fora
man and his wife to live as yon have been
living.”
It seemed absurd to Littlefield that he
should he taking this man’s advice, and
yet there was no reason why he should
not,—exoeps on principle.
“You need not send the roses,” he said,
turning to the salesman, *'I'll just take
them along with me.”
The Westerner having bought a little
basket of violets, the two once more went
into the street.
It was a silent walk, for the most part
that brought them to Littlefield’ad welling.
Perhaps in their hearts they were thinking
of the simple, childish incident that had
bronght them together from such distavt
parts of the land, —one to tell his story of
wounded authority, the other to give ina
simple way conrage to undo the mischief
caused hy a stormy heart. And the in.
nocent canse of this chance acquaintance,
—a mere scrap of a baby, whose tiny voice
has prepared a way for peace, had gone
serenely on her way without a thought.
Littlefield’s home was, from the outside,
a pretty little house, with a quiet, elegant
nir which the stranger seemed dimly to
realize as he stood gazing at it.
Can von find yonr way tomorrow ?"’
asked Littlefield, one band on the stone
railing of the stoop.
“We'll be giad to see you.” he con
tinned, ‘Rose and I,and—the baby.”
The Westerner shook the other’s band
with a warmth that =arprised Littlefield.
“Thank yon, thank yon, he said, ‘‘but
you'd better not have any strangers about
tomorrow ! I'll drop in on my next trip
East
“No,” oried Littlefield earnestly, ‘‘vou
must come tomorrow. I want you. Why,
it’s a holiday, what would von do all hy
yourself, like a stray oat ?"’
The stranger shook his head decisively.
“I'll be thinking of you and wishing yon
luck."
“But how will yon spend the day ?"
asked Littlefield, anxious for the big man’s
welfare,
The stranger grasped his hand again he-
fore he finally turned away, and, langhing
in hie deep, gentle way, he said :
“I know it will be a wild goose chase,
hut I'm going to try to find the hahy we
met in the car today. No, I know there's
not much chance of my succeeding, —hut
I'm going to try ! Sort of thonght I'd like
to end her some flowers—seeing it's Eas.
ter.”’—By Claire Wallace Flynn, in the
Delineator.
A Dry Shampoo.
People who are susceptible to colds, and
who fear to wet their hair during the win
ter months, will find a dry sham with
orris, in conmection with brushing and |
massage, very effective, |
Ten cents’ worth of powdered orria is
amply sufficient for two shampoos. When
ready to retire, and after carefully brush.
ing the hair, apply the ortis, rahbing it in
well with the finger tips, then put on a cap
or tie the head up in a towel and allow it
to remain over night. The orris will ab.
sorb the oil ard dirt from the hair and
scalp daring the night, and can be broshed
out in the morning.
Orris is not only an effective shampoo,
but a very agreeable one ; imparting a dis-
tinct yet dainty evanescent odor to the
hair. By its use the head and hair can be
kept in a perfectly healthy condition, Fre-
quent airing, brushiogs, and massagings
will add to the beneficial results.
Wiihon: Kindling Woad.
According to a recent dispatch New York
city is suffering from a kindling wood
famine. Grocers all over the city say that
they have not een the woodman for more
than three weeks.
The kindling wood is cut from Penussl-
vania hemlock and Virginia pine. Dealers
in the product say that the severe winter
in Pennsylvania and the scarcity of freight
cars are among the causes for the shortage.
Auother reason is that Virginia woodmen
are getting better prices for pine in the
form of lumber for building purposes and
are ignoring the fuel-wood trade.
—— Beside their costliness, poultry and
poetry have many points of resemblance.
The hen is like the poet. who
Will «is and think for balf a day,
Then work a minute, maybe two,
Aud there, behold, a lovely lay!
The teacher a ed one little fellow
who was present for she first time, and in-
quired his name for the purpose of placing
it on the roll.
“‘Well,” said the youngster, ‘‘they call
me Jimwie for short; but my maiden name
is James.
-—-‘‘My wife was rather worried when
I left her this morning.”
“What was the master?”
she bad been worrying about
or other yesterday evening, and
this morning she couldn't remember what
‘Then you bave no sympathy for the
deserving poot?’’ asked the person working
for charity.
‘“‘Me?"’ replied the rich and great man.
‘‘Why, sir, I bave nothing but sympathy
for them.”
——When the boarder passed up his
coffee cup for a third helping the landlady
icily remarked, ‘‘You must be very fond
of coffee.”’” To which he replied, ‘‘I should
think so, from the amount of water I have
to drink to get any.”
——8he: Father consents to our mar-
riage, but he wishes us to wait four years!
0, Carlo, don’t look like that, you will be
still young as that time!
He: My treasure, I was not thinking of
myself.
———As long as Father retains any rights
at all, he is pretty sure to remove his shoes
out by the sitting room fire.
Abvent-Mindid Man.
“Iguess I bad the most absent minded
man in the world in my chair this morn.
ing,”’ said a Seventeenth street barber
yesterday. “He came in and sat down
near the door to wait his tarn. I velled
‘next’ as him two or three times when my
chair was vacant, hut he was dreaming and
dido’t bear me. Finally I touched him on
the shonlder and told him I was ready for
him.
* ‘What do you want me todo? he
asked.
** ‘Why, get in the chair if you want
anything,’ I replied. ‘This is a barber
shop’
“ ‘Oh, yes," he said, and then he got
into the chair. He leaned hack so I let
the chair down and shaved him. He didn’t
have a word to sav. When I finished
him up he got out of the chair and rook
the check over to the cashier. He paid
and started ont. When half way through
she door he stopped.
** ‘Say,’ he said to me, ‘what did you do
to me?"
“I shaved yon,’ I said.
“ ‘Darn the luck,’ he replied. ‘I wanted
a haircut.’ Then he went ont scolding.’
Searcely one woman in a thousand really
appreciates the fluence of her sexual or-
ganism over her whole life. It is only the
gkilled physician who has time and again
traced disease hack along the delicate
nerves to the sensitive womanly organs,
who understands how closely related are
these organs to every healthy function and
attribute of the body. Women who have
used Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription for
diseases of the delicate organs understand
the remarkable relief given to overstiung
nerves, It cures irritability, hysteria. de-
pression, spasms and various other forms of
nervous divease hecanse these originate in a
diseased condition of the delicate womanly
organs. ‘‘Favorite Prescription” is a
special remedy for woman's special ail-
ments, It makes weak women strong and
gick women well.
Don't Develop the Mind at the Expense
of the Body.
The man or woman who would train
the mental faculties without any refer-
ence to the physical shows a faulty
qualification for the work in which he
or she may be engaged. The mind
may be ever so well trained and stored
with knowledge of the books, but un-
less there is behind it a reasonably
strong body life runs the risk of be-
ing a failure; if not that, an existence
of pain that serves as a limitation upon
its possibilities. It is a species of cru- |
elty to educate the mind at the ex-
pense of the body. Better let a child |
grow up into manhood or womanhood |
with an inferior education than with |
a better education of the mind and a
body weakened in the effort.
The fact that so many men in this
country who have succeeded in busi-
ness snd in professional and public |
life have been the sons of farmers,
whose early life has been spent out of
doors, has heen a subject of remark.
May it not be accounted for on the
ground that in their boyhood thelr |
physique was developed so that in aft.
| er life, besides their mental acquire- |
ments, they had strong bodles with |
which to do the work they have so |
successfully performed? This Is not!
only possible, but very probable.—
Knoxville Journal.
A Stolen Trade Secret.
The manufacture of tinware in kEng-
land originated in a stolen secret. Few !
readers need to be informed that tin-
ware is simply thin sheet iron plated |
with tin by being dipped into the molt- |
en metal. In theory it is an easy mat-
ter to clean the surface of iron. Dip |
the iron in a bath of boiling tin and |
remove it enveloped in the silvery met- |
al to a place of cooling. In practice, |
however, the process is one of the most |
difficult of arts. It was discovered in |
Holland and guarded from publicity
with the utmost vigilance for nearly |
half a century. England tried to dis- |
cover the secret in vain until James
Sherman, a Cornish miner, crossed the
channel, insinuated himself surrepti- |
tiously into a tin plate manufactory,
made himself master of the secret and
brought it home.
Women and Jewelry. :
“Women know a great deal more
about buying jewelry now than they |
knew twenty-five years ago,” said a |
jeweler. “When I first started in the |
business a clerk with a persuasive |
tongue could talk a woman into buy- |
ing most anything. It wasn't safe for
her to step inside a shop unless she
had a man along. Now the average
woman knows more about jewels than |
the average man. Of course they can |
be fooled—anybody can but an expert
—but as a rule she buys with a sur- |
prising knowledge of value, and her |
taste in the cutting and setting is ex-
cellent.”—New York Post. |
Brains.
“A man stood on his head twenty
minutes in order to win a wager. He
died the next day.”
“What killed him? Congestion of the
brain?”
“No; if he had had any brains he
wouldn't have dome it.” — Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
Specified.
“When in trouble,” said the eminent
lecturer, “refrain from worrying.”
“But, doctor,” asked a woman in the
audience, “bow can we?”
“Anyway,” replied the lecturer, “re-
frain from worrying other people.”
Worse Still,
She—You'll be glad to learn, dear,
that I've got out of visiting rela-
tives. He—Grand! Splendid! Ithung
over me like a soul. How you
manage it? She—Oh, I them
here!—Life.
Moeting the Situation.
“1 wonder if there's
iE :
apap there has had the
bos of all her a
gende BI ,
|
RA
PACIFIC LUMBER RAFTS.
“luge Log Piles That Are as Large as
Ocean Steamers.
Nearly as large as the largest trans-
atlantic liners are some of the huge
sea rafts by means of which timber is
transferred from the Columbia river
and Puget sound to San Francisco or
southern California. Occasionally these
bundles of logs ‘measure G50 feet from
end to end and contain as many as
5,000 pieces of timber. To fasten such
pr raft so that it will withstand the
force of the seas to which it is exposed
in the trip down the coast no little en-
gineering skill is required. As the
cigar shape offers less resistance to the
force of the waves than any other,
this has been adopted. In order to pile
the timber in this form a huge skele-
ton or shipway is constructed. This
is practically a cradle, which is moor-
ed in the water adjacent to the boom
where the raft timber is confined. By
means of a boom derrick the poles and
piling are lifted from the boom singly
and placed in the proper position in
the cradle. They are so adjusted as
to overlap each other, the plan follow-
ed being somewhat similar to that in
laying a brick wall, the end of each
stick being placed opposite the center
of the one adjacent to it. While to a
novice the raft looks as if it were
made up of timber thrown in without
any order, every pole is carefully
placed in position. Sometimes the work
of filling the cradle occupies several
months,
After completion the raft is wrapped
with iron chains lashed around it at
intervals ranging from twelve to twen-
ty feet apart. These chains are com-
posed of one and a half inch links, and
the ends are toggled together after the
chains have been stretched taut by a
hand or steam windlass. To prevent
the chains from slipping iron staples
are driven through the links into the
outside poles. In addition to the
chains, however, “side lines,” as they
are called, consisting of wire rope, are
stretched around the raft between the
chain sections, so that when the wrap-
ping is completed the mass of logs is
bound together very securely. When
the wrapping is finished, the raft is
ready for launching.
In building the raft two two-inch
shains are stretched lengthwise from
2nd to end through the center. One of
these is bolted to a sort of bulkhead at
one end, consisting of a band of iron,
| which is fitted around the projecting
ends of the outer pieces. The other
{chain is connected at the forward end
with the towing hawser and secured
inside the raft by lateral chains. To
move this unwieldy bulk two powerful
steamers are usually employed at sen,
one for pulling directly ahead and the
other to keep the raft in the right
course, —(C'hicago News,
Pure Salt.
The purity of salt depends upon the
source from which it is obtained and
the sanitary conditions under which it
is preparxd for the market. The sup-
! ply of common salt, the”most indis-
pensable of all the seasoning sub-
stances both as a relishing condiment
and a well nigh universal food preserv-
ative, is exhaustless, yet even so there
is salt and salt. PPormerly salt was
obtained by evaporating ocean water,
a process that left many impurities in
the residuum, to say nothing of its ex-
posure to all kinds of dirt in its ship-
ment from seaports. The Turk's island
or rock salt, which is still largely used
in pork packing and in the manufac-
ture of ice creams, comes to the Unit-
ed States in holds of vessels contin-
ually subjected to dirt and foul odors.
Upon its arrival it is again handled,
then packed in coarse burlap bags, per-
mitting dust to sift into the salt. In
this condition it reaches the consumer.
Latterly, however, the product of salt
springs has largely taken the lead in
this country, not only for table salt,
but for meat packing.—London Pie-
i torial Review.
A Magazine of Famous Editors.
One of the most interesting of peri-
odical adventures in the first quarter
of the last century was the establish-
ment of the Liberal, a literary journal
planned by Lord Byron in Italy con-
jointly with Shelley and Leigh Hunt,
who were then with him there, but to
be published in London, with Hunt as
editor. The consultation took place
at Leghorn a week before Shelley was
drowned in the gulf of Spezia. The
Liberal was started in the summer of
1822, but only four numbers were is-
sued, the first of these containing By-
ron’s great satire, “The Vision of Judg-
ment,” two years before the poet's
death. Leigh Hunt had ten years ear-
lier set out on his journalistic career
in the Examiner, established by his
brother, in which appeared some of his
most noteworthy sonnets. His most
important writing was in the Indi-
cator, in the Companion and in the
Talker, “a daily journal of literature
and the stage,” lasting during two
years and written almost entirely by
himself.—H. M. Alden in Harper's.
Chopin's Superstition.
Chopin, unlike most musical geniuses,
was a late riser. He practiced so long
at the piano, with his back unsupport-
ed, that his spine was permanently in-
jured. He never composed except when
seated at the piano, and he always had
the lights turned out when he was im-
provising. A public audience unnerved
him to such an extent that he could
not properly interpret the music before
him. Seated in the midst of a small
select circle, he easily extemporized
and improvised. He “talked” to his
pin: whenever he was melancholy.
He thought more of his manservant
and his cat than he did of his intimate
friends. Chopin had a superstitious
dread of the figure seven and would
not live in a house bearing that num-
ber or start upon a journey on that
date.
| MUSIC AND SHORTHAND.
Two Lines of Work That Are Particu-
larly Bad For the Eyes.
A St. Louis oculist, chatting with
friends about the ins and outs of his
profession, said that there were two
lines of work which for professional
* reasons both the oculist and the op-
tician would be glad to see widely en-
couraged. One is music, particularly
plano playing.
“Have you ever noticed,” said he,
“that the pianist’s head as he sits up-
right at the plano is generally almost
three feet from the music? He reads
at long range. This of itself is bad,
Involving as it does a continual strain
upon the eyes. If the pianist only sat
still, however, the casé would not be
so bad, but very few do. In executing
difficult passages or extended scales
they sway first to one side, then to
the other, sometimes a foot in each
direction, lean back six inches, then
toward the music, all the time keeping
their eyes fixed upon the notes, and
during all the changes of distance and
direction the delicate mechanism of the
eye is constantly seeking to adjust it-
self to the distance so as to obtain the
clearest possible image of the notes.
The result is, of course, an overstrain,
and it is a common thing when the
practice hour is over to see the mu-
sician rub his eyes and to hear him re-
mark that music is bad for the eyes,
anyhow. It is not good, indeed, for,
although in ordinary piano sheet music
the notes are large enough, the signs
of expression are often so small as to
cause an effort to see them properly,
and, besides, much piano playing, par-
ticularly of the standard classics, is
done from small size editions, which
are to be had at much cheaper rates
than sheet music.
“Shorthand work and typewriting
are as bad for the eyes in their way
as music. Most stenographers write
with a medium pencil and in small
characters. The dots and dashes are
thus hard to decipher and themselves
strain the eyes. Then comes the tran-
scription, which is worse. If stenog-
raphers would only learn to use a type-
writer as a pianist does the keyboard—
that, is, to write without looking at the
keys—the eye strain would not be so
severe, but very few of them acquire
this degree of confidence and proficien-
cy, so the focus of the eye is always
changing, first reading the notes, then
dancing back and forth over the keys,
then looking at the typewritten page
and repeating these processes all day
long until the wonder is not that their
eyes are bad, but that they don't go
stone blind, If pianists would learn
to sit still while they are playing and
stenographers would acquire the art of
using a typewriter without looking at
the keys, the demands on the time of
the oculist and the services of the op-
tician would be lessened very materi-
ally, but as it is these two classes are
a great help both to the specialists and
to the man that makes spectacles, fur-
nishing more business than any one
would suppose who is not in the pro-
fession.”—8t. Louis Globe-Democrat.
A Tombstone Lunch.
The waiter in the indigestion dispen-
sary, towel in hand, gazed with refiec-
tive eye at a corpulent victim consum-
ing a midnight repast of lemonade and
an egg sandwich and unburdened his
speculative mind thus: “If I was a kid
again, I'd go to college and learn to be
a doctor, even if I did bave to work
my way through. ‘Cause why? Well,
there's more money and respectability,
to say nothing of peace of mind, in
curing dyspepsia than in making it.
See what the gent's eating? Well, that
ain't a fair sample. Some of ‘em
comes in here and orders lobster salad
and chocolate, and for dessert they
pull out a little box and eat a dyspep-
sia tablet. I used to have a yourg fel-
ler come in every night and eat what
he called a tombstone lunch. It was a
Welsh rabbit made on mince pie fu-
stead of toast. He don't come any
more, though. He's dead.”—Philadel-
phia Record.
The Baron's Order.
A worthy Welsh baronet, a member
of one of the parliaments of William
IV., was asked by one of his constitu-
ents who chanced to be in town at the
time for an order of admission into the
house. With his characteristic disposi-
tion to oblige, Sir —— immediately
complied with the request and wrote
an order in the usual terms and ad-
dressed it thus: “To the Door Ceeper
of the House of Kommons.” The per-
son for whom it was intended discov-
ered the errors in the spelling after he
had gone ten or twelve yards from the
worthy baronet and, turning back and
running up to him, said: “Oh, Sir —,
there is a slight mistake in your order.
Two letters have been transposed. You
have spelled ‘keeper’ with a C instead
of a K and ‘commons’ with a K in-
stead of a C.” “That's all right,” was
the answer. “The doorkeeper see
to it. He is sure to know which is
which.”
Washington's Advice.
Here is a bit of advice given by
George Washington on Jan, 15, 1873,
to his young nephew, of whom he was
very fond:
“Be courteous to all, but intimate
with few, and let those few be well
tried before you give them your con-
men any
make fine birds. A plain, genteel dress
fs more admired and obtains more
credit than lace and embroidery in the
| eyes of the judicious and sensible.”